A Hamilton (The Musical) Fanfiction

Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story

Alexander was dead, his funeral had already taken place, and I was still in denial, believing that he would appear at my door any day, ready to present one of his crazy ideas to me and Thomas. But the days passed, and he never appeared

After the funeral, Aaron Burr and I shared a drink. I understood him after he explained his point of view. Alexander worked his entire life to rise to the top, unaware of the harm he was causing to those he defeated. I'm not trying to be biassed, but Aaron had no choice; he knew what it was like to be an orphan, and he didn't want his daughter to experience the same trauma he did, so he fired his gun, believing Alexander intended to kill him. Still, my belief in him did not improve his situation. Everyone saw him as a villain, someone who murdered one of the Founding Fathers in cold blood.

I spent the rest of my life assisting Angelica and Eliza in writing Alexander's story from start to finish. I was especially helpful in writing facts and information about his early life because I was present most of the time and with him when he travelled to America. Unfortunately for us, Eliza had burned all of the letters she had exchanged with him during their courtship, so we knew very little about their relationship prior to their marriage.

Ten years later, Angelica died, causing the Hamilton-Schuyler family heartbreak and sorrow, but I had Thomas and Eliza by her side to help her continue her work. Angelica was buried near Alexander in Trinity Church because we wanted our families to be close so that they could find each other easily in the afterlife.

We raised money for the Washington Monument with Eliza, in honour of our first president and someone I saw as a father figure who guided me and gave the best fighting and life advice. Someone who accepted me despite the fact that I was a woman fighting in the Revolutionary War alongside men.

In the meantime, I carried on John's anti-slavery work by writing essays and protesting in the town square. He was among the first to die, but his bravery will not be forgotten. As a friend, brother, or soldier, John's spirit never left us, and his legacy of freeing slaves must become a reality.

Every person I've met in my life has done so much for this country, for our country. They're all wonderful people who I'm glad I met. Even Lafayette, a French immigrant who had nothing to do with our war against Britain, fought alongside us, commanding his own battalion as a General and risking his life to liberate us from British control.

Hercules, bless his heart, was as strong as a bear but as gentle as a bunny. He taught me to be tough while also showing me that it was okay to express my emotions on occasion. He even taught me how to sew a dress once; you should've seen the corners of his mouth rise as I sewed the dress backwards, making a complete mess of material and string on his working table.

Peggy, my little sister-in-law, despite the fact that she was quick to leave our side, was always a ray of sunshine who faithfully followed her father's orders and words. Her energy and laugh stayed with me to this day, and the empty halls remind me of how she bounced from one end to the other. If you were having a bad day, one of her tiny little freckle-filled smiles would instantly lift your spirits.

Angelica, you're such a sweetheart. Whatever the reason, you could always count on her. Her heart was big, and she was well aware of her responsibilities as the head of the household. Unfortunately for you, she was quick to point fingers if you did something wrong, and she wasn't afraid to put people, men or women, in their place. She believed in equal rights for men and women, and I agreed with her on every point.

Eliza, may God bless you. She dedicated her life for 50 years to writing her late husband's biography and raising funds to make this country better for everyone, immigrants, orphans, and slaves. She was naive but strong, she didn't break easily and wouldn't let people walk all over her. Her best quality was her kindness; she easily forgave and showed everyone mercy and love. Alexander's wife was the best thing that ever happened to him.

James, my first political acquaintance. He was wise, and he taught me how to run a country alongside him and Thomas. He preferred to observe from a distance rather than speak his mind, and he tried to avoid conflict as much as possible, but with a friend like Thomas, that seemed like his worst nightmare.

My first and only love, Thomas. He was self - centered but loving, always by my side, showering me with love and reassurance. Even though we didn't have a child to call our own, Sally treated me like a mother, and she and Thomas showed me what it was like to have my own little family, even if it had some flaws. Thomas had the mind of a genius, progressing from architect to inventor to politician to president. Everyone regarded him with admiration.

Alexander, finally. Alexander, who was possibly the most influential person in my life, always had something to say and didn't waste an opportunity to say it. Even if they tried, no one could replicate his financial system; even Thomas tried and failed. He led our country from debt to prosperity, and he is underappreciated for it. Obsessed with his legacy, he forgot to appreciate what was going on around him. His mouth, as someone said, would be his undoing, and he was correct. Cheating, publishing the Reynolds Pamphlet, telling Philip to duel Eacker, publicly humiliating Burr by endorsing Thomas, and finally, refusing to lower his ego to apologise to avoid the duel that killed him, all contributed to his demise.

They all left something behind, a legacy, one by one. People had something to remember them for when they died. I lay in my bed at night, eyes glued to the ceiling, remembering each of them as a person and as someone who had an impact on my life, in small or large ways. I smiled and closed my eyes, taking slow, deep breaths.

I see a light, and as my eyes adjust to the light, I see glimpses of people I care about reaching out their hands to me, urging me to join them. It's time for me to join them, but I'm left wondering if I did enough to tell their stories. And who will tell mine when I'm gone?

- Amalia Jefferson (nee Porter), April 17, 1757-July 3, 1856

- Friend, soldier, wife, mother, but most importantly, a woman who knew what she was fighting for and was always available when others needed her.