~|Cyrus POV|~
•|1763, Virginia|•

"Sir." He said in his British accent as we sat down face to face. I nodded, ready to listen. "I love your daugh- sister, sir." He insisted, looking desperately into my eyes. I nodded; I had no doubt that he loved her for I understood how easy it would be for someone to love her. Whilst - of course - it wasn't romantic love, I did love her dearly. He said nothing more for some time.

"Is that all?" I questioned him. He was a few years older than me; he was about 23 and I knew very little about him, nor his interests with my 13-year-old sister. I had to take the father figure for my sister, thus I had to make sure he was right.

He looked nervously around the room, almost shaking. "N-No, sir." He whimpered before he cleared his throat and took in a fresh breath of air. He looked me in the eye once again. "I know I'm not smart, drink too much and am rather lacking when it comes to courage. I know, sir, trust me." His head sank. "But when I met Mari," he smiled, "I think I finally knew what it was to be accepted." I caught glimpse of a tear resting in his eye as he faced me again.

"Walk with me," I commanded as I stood up suddenly. He looked up to me for a moment as if a child looking up enviously to his father. He, too, raised to a stance and we exited the room and out of the house; I noted Mari glancing at her lover as we passed.

"Sir, where are we going?" He asked me as we moved further away from the house and into a natural walkway.

"Allow me to be honest with you, Mr Nelson." I confessed, "I don't want to get in the way of your love with Marigold." He smiled, cheerily at me. I sighed, still not quite comprehending what my next sentence would be. "Tell me a little about yourself, Winslow."

We continued to walk onwards, passing a bench which seemed to not quite be functioning correctly. "My mother and father worked on a farm in Yorkshire. I was born and raised a farmer without much money to spend on any luxuries." He began, facing forwards as he spoke as to not make eye contact. "I wasn't much good at farming, I'll have you know. I wanted to get away from it all and took my chance one day when I stumbled into a ship as a stowaway. And here I am." He finished, glancing back over to me. A farmer, ey?

"And what do you do now?" I asked him, curiously. America posed freedom to him, I supposed; he was free from what tied him back to England. I could get behind that.

"Farmer, still I'm afraid." He sighed. I looked to him in shock.

"Then what was the point?"

"God knows. He brought me here to meet Mari, of course." He laughed. "We will one day run our own farm together and run through the fields with our children!" He fantasised. He was in love with her, or so he was convinced. I couldn't let the poor man give up his dreams even if they weren't exactly what he may have chosen if given other options.

"You have my blessing, sir," I announced to him, there and then. He pulled me into a hug for a single moment.

"Oh, God bless you, sir." He ran off home. "Have a good day!"

"You too."

Had I made the right choice? I certainly hoped so. He seemed like a fine enough fellow. I continued to walk on, not having quite the energy to stop.

"THE WAR'S OVER!" Cried a man barging into me.

"Excuse me?"

"Soldiers are coming back home. France has been beaten! Britain has won!" He cried out gleefully before running off. Could it be true? Would this truly be the end of the conflict?! I twisted my body in the other direction.

"Wait-"