DISCLAIMER: I have recently decided to write my own fanfic after reading all the wondrous ones listed under The Patriot. I do hope that you will continue to read my story as the first chapter is just here to get you flowing with the story.

As you are all aware, the characters and original storyline of The Patriot belong to screenwriter Robert Rodat. Darlene Martin is my own character. Enjoy!

If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
That strain again! it had a dying fall:
O! it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odour. Enough! no more:
'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou,
That, notwithstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
Of what validity and pitch soe'er,
But falls into abatement and low price,
Even in a minute: so full of shapes is fancy,
That it alone is high fantastical.

I closed my eyes and awaited for Margaret's line to chime in. When I heard a continuing silence I repeated myself, "That it alone is high fantastical…?" I scolded, looking over to her as she looked up from her doodles.

"What?" Margaret looked confused. "Oh, are you still reading that?"

"No." I closed the book on my finger to save the place. "It is your line and we have only just started. Come now, Father has put me in charge of your schooling and you best listen to what you can whilst I am around."

"Planning on leaving soon, dearest Darlene?" Margaret smiled. I smirked back at her.

"You know that Father plans to send me to Aunt Charlotte's in Charles Town this summer. She plans to take me to all the important functions and I should hope to be engaged by the time the leaves start to turn." I sighed as I sat the book down. It was hard sometimes having to parent my younger siblings and, although I rather be enjoying the sites of places like Charles Town or New York even… I still feared who would look after them once I had been married off.

Certainly, father had gone many years without my mother, Elizabeth. However, I sometimes doubted that he would remarry to anyone in his lifetime.

I looked back to Margaret who was now daydreaming up to the sky. It certainly was a beautiful day with a warm breeze.

I thought of Gabriel. He had been gone only six months with the Continental Army and yet it was still a surprise to me to see Samuel and Nathan hunting alongside Thomas. He had surely made a point of teasing me all though our years together, often choosing Thomas over me for any such activities, and yet I still missed his presence. The topics he and father would discuss in the evenings by the fire always enthralled my attention. There's not a day that goes by that I don't miss his readings of Shakespeare's work.

Perhaps it was the adventure of it all.

I often loathed the way the girls in Charles Town acted when the gentlemen approached them; all swooning and laughing on about nothing. I suppose I was rather a Joan than a Juliet.

Although there would never come a chance for me to ride around on a horse like a man, wear something other than ten layers of fabric to balls or even eat a meal in a tavern, I still longed for it, in some respects. A life such as that would likely get me killed or worse, become that ravaging's of a man. Or men.

It was just a thought. A hope, a dream. Just the silent whisper that plagued my thoughts. An inner thought to satisfy my fantasies.

Author's Note: I am aware that the name Darlene didn't come about until the last century. Please ignore the anachronism.

Excerpt from Twelfth Night, Act I. Scene I.

Cover image from Deviant Artist: The Evil Legacy. Titled: Colonel William Tavington.

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