All these letters are written from Eliza to Alexander three months after the Reynolds Pamphlet was published in August 1797. Eventually they will change to be written in a different time, maybe after Philip's death, or Alexander's death.

My Dearest Alexander,

1780. A winter's ball.

Resigned to myself in the corner of the room, alone, sitting on an ancient chair, nursing the drink in my hand. For the sixteenth time in the past two minutes, I tried to catch another glimpse of you. You were talking to my sister, Angelica, and it tore another rip in my heart every time you laughed at her astute and quick-witted one-liners. What I hadn't known that night, was that every time I looked down, both you and she would take discreet glances over to my lone self. And then my selfless sister took it into her own hands to introduce us. And begin our tragically successful relationship.

I had finally convinced myself to stop stealing glances at you when I saw the salmon pink hem of Angelica's dress brushing the floor. My eyes darted up instantly, and landed, ironically, on your face. We were so young back then, but neither naive to the workings of the world. I placed my drink on the tiny table next to me, and stood to greet you in the ladylike way I had been taught when I was six.

"Eliza, this is Alexander Hamilton." Angelica told me, watching me with the smirk I had grown accustomed to. I bowed my head and curtsied.

"Elizabeth Schuyler." I introduced myself formally for you. Your intelligent face held a flicker of confusion for a moment before returning to its usual calculated self.

"My sister." Angelica explained, unknowing that you had already worked it out for yourself. You held out your hand for me to take, and I took it without a moment's hesitation. Unlike other men's hands of your age, yours was already worn and calloused from working from a young age. But it felt safer than any other man's hand I had held before. You bent down and pressed your warm lips against my knuckles. It felt like you had knocked the breath out of my lungs. Angelica noticed my overwhelmed expression and her smirk grew wider.

"If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it." You said smoothly, your astounding violet-blue eyes staring straight into my simple brown ones. I'm afraid I may have let out a small gasp, and I regretted it immediately, feeling I had let my composure slip. But your previously composed face broke into a grin, and it was hard not to fall for you after seeing that smile.

I strove to make you smile from that day onward. It was the second part of you that I truly fell in love with. The first being your legendary way with words. For others it meant hard competition. They saw your writings: in newspapers, in speeches, in Washington's letters, in declarations. They were everywhere, running red hot like a fever through the streets of New York. But I was one of the few who could actually hear your words. You saved those for me, your unpractised conversations. Everything you said flowed and danced off of your tongue before crashing into the air, like a river running off of a cliff in an uncontained waterfall. They could be angry rampant rants, filled with contempt and fury you didn't know how to handle out loud. Mostly they were just you, simply talking, to me, to our children, to my family. You would speak like it had already been practised, like you were an actor in a show, having learnt your lines off of a previously memorised script. There were only a few times when I saw you either speechless or struggle for your words. One, when I was pregnant with our first child. You were filled with rage for Washington, being sent home from the war you wanted so badly to prove yourself in. You stormed into the house, poor John Laurens behind you, trying vainly to convince you that it would work out. But the moment you saw me, you stopped dead. Like you had seen a ghost. I was five months pregnant, and my stomach had bulged large enough for it to be obvious that I was with child by that time. I thought you were processing what had happened, the confusion making you take a second before you would start talking. You always filled a silence with speech, too many silent and lonely days as a child and teenager left you craving noise and activity. It was only after a few moments that I realised you were actually speechless. You had no idea what to say. It was only once John closed the door behind you that you stuttered out a question.

But that memory's for another letter. Where was I? Oh, the winter's Ball. You had rendered me speechless with your charm, inducing Angelica to take that as her cue to walk away.

"I'll leave you to it." She said slyly. My eyes widened in panic, begging her not to leave us alone. I know you'll deny it dear, but you can practically feel the ambition radiating off of you. And its presence left me slightly in awe and feeling a bit useless. She ignored my plea for help, despite also acknowledging that it was there, and left us.

"Would you like to dance?" You asked immediately, not letting a moment slip away.

"I would like that very much." I answered, accepting your hand. You pulled me into the centre of the room and we danced for timeless hours. Admittedly, your dancing was flawed, but I did not mind. I could see your friends laughing at you on the other side of the room, but I knew that you didn't care. You had pride, sure, but you left your pride for your other talents, you didn't waste it on something you knew you would never master. And you never did master dancing entirely.

We talked while we danced. Only once did either of our families get mentioned, when you made a simple remark that it seemed like my sister may take over the world someday. I agreed. You knew exactly what to say, and when to say it. You worded everything just right, and I fell in love with your ability to make any troubles leave my mind instantly. At one point I spotted Peggy leave the room with Laurens and expressed discomfort with that. Immediately you rushed to settle that discomfort. And I believed you instantly when you said that Laurens was a gentleman who would never try to steal a woman's virtue. It scared me a little bit the utter control you held over me. However eventually I concluded that you were not feeding me lies to gain any favour with me, but you were simply telling the truth. You were not one to lie.

After a while we left the overly large mansion to go for a walk in the begrudgingly nice gardens. I kept my arm tucked in yours for the night, and kept my body pressed against your side. Never once did you take advantage of this positioning, which only increased my trust in you. But you never moved your body away from mine. I won't lie to you Alexander, I did flirt with you that night, and you made me laugh with your witty jokes. I looked up at the crescent moon surrounded by glinting stars in an infinitely black sky, and I saw a future with you. We sat on the benches at one point. Do you remember? For one single ten seconds you were silent, allowing us to admire the stubborn flowers against the white light of the moon. You then told me that the light the moon seemed to give off was not in fact from the moon itself, but was simply reflecting the light of the sun back onto our dark night. I informed you that I already knew this, and you seemed to become even more excited at the fact that I had received a good education. Finally someone who you could bounce your similarly late, but good education off of. You went on to tell me that one day you hoped to be like the light that the moon reflected. Appearing from nowhere to give light on certain things. This is how you introduced me to your obsession with legacy. I spotted immediately, in the way that you stared fascinatedly at the moon that your fixation on being remembered would become a huge problem in the future.

But in those ten seconds that you were silent for, while you looked on with admiration at the flowers in the moonlight, I looked at you. I looked at your young but wise face and saw a boy who had had to grow up too quickly. Someone who longed for life in all its grandness and wanted to experience everything it threw at him. I saw someone who had lived alone for so long that he was scared eventually he would fade into the background and disappear completely. You were someone who wanted to leave your mark on this world. To leave and be remembered. But above all, I saw someone who wanted to be loved. You were so eager to impress and surround yourself with people who would adore you. I saw a man that had experienced the effects of being pushed away, shoved onto the side lines to fend for themselves. Someone who would never let that happen to themselves or anyone they loved ever again. So when someone showed the slightest hostility towards you, you immediately shut them out. You let them know that you and they were enemies now. And you would rarely forgive them.

John Laurens and Lafayette, escorting Peggy and Angelica on their arms found us in the gardens. And it was my time to leave. You asked me in front of all of them if you could write to me, completely fearless in front of a crowd. I told you I'd love that, your lack of fear spurring me on in return. Behind us Peggy giggled and Laurens stifled a laugh into a cough. You three escorted us back into our carriage, and as I let go of your hand after you helped me up the steps (something I am completely capable of by the way, but I had been told by my mother many a time that I woman is never to let go of a man's hand when assistance is required) it felt like I was only pressing pause in our relationship.

That was the night my world turned upside down, my dear Alex. You swept me off my feet with everything you said, and I practically jumped into your arms.

Love your Eliza

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed it, and constructive criticism is invited.