Greetings, Earthlings! Wow, my first entry into the Hamilton fandom, and it's something I wrote for English class. Eh, whatever ^-^. Oh, and I apologize if the tenses get weird near the end. I'm not sure if I got the grammar quite right.

Disclaimer: *Seabury voice* Though I wish it so, Hamilton is not among my possessions. However, among my possessions there is a sweater, a hair elastic, and a portal to Narnia. *shrugs* How it got there is beyond me.

And on that note: enjoy!

:::

I approached the cabinet and drew out a small, silver key from the pocket of my nightgown. Silently, as the house was asleep and I wouldn't let the children witness this, I unlocked the door and out from it brought a polished wooden box. Taking out a second key, I heard the telltale click of the box opening and gingerly removed the letters inside before securing both cabinet and box. I made my way to the sitting room, where I sat in my chair and gently slid one of the letters from its envelope, letting my eyes skim the ink, which was shaped into words so familiar I could at one point have recited them from memory.

The memories flooded back to me, and I stifled a gasp, letting instead silent tears drip from my eyelashes to create pathways down my cheeks. You loved me, back then. I'm no longer so sure, but reading the letters ascertained my knowledge that, during at least one point in my life, you were mine. Angelica's voice floated through my thoughts, reminding me of what she told me the day your first letter arrived. "He will do what it takes to survive," indeed.

But my sister's voice would not leave me, and suddenly it was two days ago, when the damned pamphlet had first come to my attention. "You have married an Icarus, love," she had said, trying desperately to soothe my sobs. And oh, how you've flown into the sun now. You had published it all; from the correspondence between yourself and a married woman, to how you had been seduced, to how Mrs. Reynolds' husband had extorted you so he kept his silence on the matter. There was no sense of dignity; no sense of family; no, nothing but frantic, foolish words drying on a pamphlet that the whole world now has read. Legacy? You have no legacy now, and all the paranoia of how others think of you has been for naught. Our lives destroyed for naught. You… You….

You…

History is in the making, and I will no longer be a part of it. As they study your actions, let the future citizens of our country frown in pensiveness and wonder how Eliza Hamil– nay, how Eliza Schuyler reacted when her life was destroyed, and her heart ripped out of her chest by her hurricane of a husband.

My mouth set in a determined gash as I looked into the flickering flames of the fireplace. I stood up, gathering the skirts of my nightgown in one fist and clenching the letters in the other, and made my way to the fireplace. And as tears blurred my vision and streamed down my flushed, furious face, and sobs racked my body, I fed the letters to the fire. The flames danced as they consumed the paper, and the glimmer in my eyes danced along. For what right had the world to my heart? What place did it have in our bed? So no, they wouldn't be reading the letters; seeing the memories that could have redeemed you. And you! You have no longer a claim to my heart! You have not a place in my bed! And as you rock yourself asleep in your office, pause and reflect upon how much you forfeited to save your pitiful wreckage of a legacy.

You have not the right.

Nor have you a wife.

I hope that you burn.

:::

So yeah, this was pretty fun to write. I have another Hamilton fanfic in progress (a proper twoshot this time), but I wanted to get something out.

What did you think? Comment below.

See ya!

-Unconscious Again