Eliza left her sisters' sides early on in the ball, feeling a vague desire to wander the edges of the dance floor. She was therefore right near the doors when some of the last soldiers entered the hall. She would have been perfectly content to keep walking, but one of them seemed to interpret her proximity as interest, and he introduced himself.

"Alexander Hamilton. My name is Alexander Hamilton"

"Elizabeth Schuyler. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Her mouth started going on autopilot as they began to exchange pleasantries, charming replies coming without her having the slightest recollection of what they were. All she could do was stare into the eyes of the man in front of her. Looking into Alexander Hamilton's eyes, she decided, was like nothing else in the world. She was drowning in them, but instead of it being frightening, she felt exhilarated, like she could fly into the air and land on the sun without getting singed. It was as if everything else was being reduced to blurs for as long as she stared.

With a start, she realized that everything else was, in fact, a blur. She was spinning – no, dancing. She had agreed to dance without realizing what she was doing, and now she was dancing with Alexander Hamilton. Even while dancing, he conveyed restlessness, and she could feel the nervous energy in the hand she was holding.

"Do you like to write?" She asked him on a whim, because something about him conveyed urgency, a need for pen-on-paper.

He broke into a wide grin, and nodded. "About everything. Do you? Just the other day-" he began, and then launched into a speech, talking a mile a minute about the latest essay he'd been writing.

She grinned at him, more at his enthusiasm than at the subject matter. And she felt something else, too, something besides the soaring sensation of reveling in the presence of Alexander Hamilton. There was something important, some connection she needed to make.

"There's a million things I haven't done," he said now. "But just you wait." It's not just a phrase; coming from Hamilton, this is a solemn vow, a promise of things yet to come. And in that moment, Eliza began to realize what she recognized in Alexander. The energy, the intelligence, and the vast sense of potential, yearning to be realized, all of it was what she saw whenever she looked at Angelica. Looking at Alexander was like looking at a mirror of the light that came into Angelica's eyes whenever she touched upon an interesting problem.

She remembered seeing that light so often as a child, as they played together, as Angelica came up with new games and tricks, a boundless source of excitement and fun for the young Eliza. Whenever she was bored, she only had to look to her sister, and there was some new angle on the familiar room they were in, some new wonder to be imagined and delighted in.

Eliza didn't see that light as often, now that they were both growing up. She knew the pressures Angelica felt from their father, pressures that she, as the second child, was largely shielded from. To marry, to marry for wealth and prestige. Even if the husband was dull as a doormat. The weight of that responsibility had settled on Angelica more and more the older they had gotten, and Eliza's experienced eye could see it now as Angelica flirted and laughed, seemingly without a care in the world.

Nowadays, Angelica only really seemed to light up while they were alone, when she was doing something that wasn't quite proper. Going downtown, running around, and especially talking politics. The gleam in her eye as she read Thomas Paine was as bright as if it had never gone.

Eliza would do anything for Angelica's eyes to light up like that again, to stay bright and happy and excited forever.

Anything?

She was starting to see it, now, what she had been forgetting at first. Alexander had the energy to match her sister's. He might have what it took for Angelica to be truly happy, instead of subduing her light to adhere to what their father wanted.

But if that happened, she would have to give up Alexander.

It was ridiculous, to be so dramatic about someone she had met no more than ten minutes ago. But there was something about Alexander that would change the life of anyone who crossed his path. Eliza knew, with absolute certainty, that she could marry Alexander Hamilton. She would be happier than she had ever been in her life, and her calm would temper his fiery enthusiasm.

Or Angelica could marry him. Again, there was no trace of doubt, even though the two had never met. Their energies would meet, collide, grow into something fiercer and brighter than the world had ever seen.

And Eliza would have to move on.

Could she do that? She had Alexander here, right here in front of her, and she could just let history take its course. It would be so easy, to stay caught up forever in his beautiful eyes, to live out her life with him. Angelica would never have to know what could have been, could go on to marry some rich aristocrat. It would be a good future.

But Eliza remembered.

She remembered the day before her first ever ball, when she had broken one of her father's favorite vases. Angelica had taken the blame that day, had said that it had been her own fault, and had stayed home so Eliza had been able to go to the party she had been desperately looking forward to. It would have been so easy for her sister to have just let things be.

She remembered the bright summer day when her father had taken the three sisters to ice cream, a rare treat. Eliza had been seven that day, Angelica a year older, and Peggy a year younger, and Eliza had dropped her ice cream upside-down on the ground before she had taken a single bite. And as the tragedy was still registering in her brain, Angelica's ice cream was already under her nose, being pressed gently into her small hands. Angelica had refused to take a single lick, despite Eliza's offer to share. Angelica hadn't even hesitated.

Looking into Alexander's eyes for what felt like the final time, Eliza chose.

She began pulling him gently across the room to where Angelica was standing, trying to make sure no hint of regret showed on her face.

"I'm about to change your life."