Chapter One

"You'll be alright, Eponine."

At the sound of her name, the young woman looked up to meet the sympathetic gaze of her friend, the Lady Musichetta, in the looking glass. Her own reflection was almost unrecognizable – her normally olive skin was pale, her eyes unnaturally glassy from the spirits she'd consumed earlier, and her hair fell over her shoulders and down her back in thick, glossy waves. It was her wedding night, and she would rather be anywhere else, even the fires of Hell itself. She was resigned to her fate, though, and had decided long ago not to fight it.

"Will I?" Eponine shook her head and turned to Musichetta, raising her chin defiantly. "I have no reason to be afraid. He didn't seem particularly cruel, did he?"

"No," Musichetta agreed. "And he certainly was not difficult to gaze upon."

"No."

Eponine thought back to her wedding that afternoon. Before stepping into the doors of the massive chapel, she had never laid eyes upon her intended, the Prince Antoine Enjolras. Like everyone else throughout neighboring kingdoms, she had heard stories of his bravery, strength, and handsome form; just last summer, Prince Antoine led his father's men in defeating the army of the Fiery Isles, a particularly vicious people from the North. In a war that only lasted two seasons, the prince and his army repelled the invasion and saved their kingdom of Corinth.

During their wedding and the reception that followed, Prince Antoine was courteous, but distant. When his eyes met hers during the ceremony, they were strikingly blue, but cold and wary. They barely spoke all evening, but when they did, his voice was carefully controlled and neutral. Eponine found she couldn't fault him for that; she was sure her mien matched his in every way. Though their guests enjoyed the feast and danced until well into the night, both Eponine and her groom stayed seated behind the head table, taking in the festivities in silence. They barely gave each other a second glance.

"He seemed as happy to marry me as I was to marry him," Eponine mused. "Do you not agree?"

Musichetta sighed and squeezed her hand. "I fear that was perfectly clear to everyone. You knew you would be married eventually, though, Eponine, and it could be worse."

"Yes," Eponine agreed. "It could be much worse." She squeezed her eyes shut at the sound of a knock on the door. "Are you sure it won't hurt too badly?"

"It will the first time, but it gets better quickly, I promise," Musichetta assured her.

Eponine tied the sash on her dressing gown and took a deep, steadying breath. Her husband stood on the other side of that door, ready to take what was owed to him on his wedding night, whether she felt ready or not. "Come in," she called.

Prince Antoine and his close friend and adviser, Lord Combeferre, entered promptly. Musichetta gave her hand one last squeeze and made to leave the room when the prince held up his hand to stop her.

"Please, I would rather you stay and hear this so I have two witnesses," he began. Eponine raised her brow in confusion and exchanged a quick glance with Musichetta. "I am sorry, Princess Eponine, but as I intend to have our marriage nullified, I will not be staying in your chambers tonight." The prince's cheeks colored, but he held her gaze steadily.

Eponine's mouth fell open in shock. "I…excuse me?"

"Did you wish to marry me, Your Highness?"

Eponine closed her mouth, thinking fast and trying desperately to figure out his game. This was a turn of events she had not anticipated. "Our union came as…a surprise," she said slowly, searching for the right words, "but it was not unwelcome."

She was used to lying through her teeth.

"I regret to inform you, then, that it was on my part," the prince said matter-of-factly and clearly with no regard for her feelings. Lord Combeferre winced and looked as if he desperately wanted to stifle the words coming from his friend's mouth, but he stayed silent.

Eponine was floored. Her head spun and she feared if she didn't sit down soon she would collapse into a heap on the floor. "How…but…if you felt this strongly, why did you allow it to already happen?!"

Prince Antoine ran a hand through his dirty blonde curls in agitation. "I am sorry that I was unable to stop today's events from happening altogether, believe me, but my father…is difficult. I will not, however, consummate our marriage and take away your chances for a successful union in the future. We have two witnesses to verify this conversation and I ask that your Lady stay with you all night to attest to the fact that I will not return to these chambers. I will begin to work on the nullification of our union in the morning and you will be sent back to your father within the week. Do you have any questions?" His color was still high, but other than that small signal, everything about the Prince suggested a calm, collected mind, including his matter-of-fact speech. It seemed he had thought this through, as baffling as it was to her.

"Why?" Eponine asked quietly, as she cocked her head to the side and studied him intently. In the myriad of reports about the young prince that she had heard over the years, nothing suggested he would ever do something this odd or rebellious.

His eyes softened a moment, but then he shrugged and turned away towards the door. "I will not allow my free will to be stolen from me. Ever."

And with that, he was gone, leaving confusion in his wake.


Eponine sat awake all night, panic steadily rising within her. Surely the prince was crazy – nullification and proof of no consummation or no, this would surely ruin her. No one would ever have her after this, and she was her father's only chance to win the kingdom of Corinth. He had made her responsibilities perfectly clear, and she feared not only for her safety, but that of her dear sister if she returned to Montfermeil in such disgrace. Her father would never forgive her, and the surest way to punish Eponine would be to punish her sister.

In the morning, after only an hour of fitful sleep, Eponine and Musichetta awoke to another knock on the door. Judging by the faint light seeping in through the curtains, it was still very early, just after sunrise. Musichetta opened the door at Eponine's urging, and was surprised to see another of the prince's friends, Captain Renè Courfeyrac, enter the room.

He bowed as Musichetta shut the door behind him, and looked at them both with an apologetic smile. "Your Highness, I apologize for the intrusion." Eponine nodded and waited for him to go on. "I wanted to reassure you that Lord Combeferre and I have talked our dear prince out of doing anything drastic."

Eponine sat down heavily in a chair and crossed her arms. "In all the stories I've heard about Prince Antoine, I never suspected he would behave in such a manner. What in the world is happening?" she asked, exasperated.

Captain Courfeyrac sighed and said sincerely, "He is a good man; that I can promise you. He would lay down his life for any of his friends and the people of this kingdom; however, he…" Courfeyrac hesitated, then said carefully, "He has his own mind, and often clashes with orders from his father. In this instance, though, he seems to have forgotten that his choices concern more than just him."

"I cannot return home," Eponine said emphatically. "He must know that! No one, not even a queen, could survive a scandal such as this."

"I understand, Your Highness. Believe me, Lord Combeferre and I helped him understand that what he wants is impossible. Not now that he has gone through with the marriage."

"What will he do?"

"I'm not sure." Captain Courfeyrac glanced at Musichetta, who was trying to make it seem like she was busy straightening the covers on the bed. "He is sometimes unpredictable. I will send word later if the prince would like to speak with you."

Eponine nodded and looked away, signaling to Courfeyrac that it was time to take his leave. He closed the door with a soft click behind him, and Musichetta immediately gave up trying to look busy.

"Do you think that Prince Antoine is…not all there?" she asked, gesturing to her head.

"I have no idea," Eponine said faintly. "What in the world could his explanation possibly be for all of this? We are already married! If he felt so strongly against our union, then he should have never agreed to it."

Musichetta shook her head in disbelief. "There must be something else going on. What will you say to him?"

Eponine thought for a moment, frowning in confusion. "I suppose I should tell him the truth."

"Which is?"

Eponine shrugged. "That I didn't particularly want to marry him, either, but I always knew I had to marry someone. That I will be a faithful wife to him, and obedient…Isn't that what all men want to hear?"

"Something tells me that this man could be different."

Eponine wrung her hands as she stood and walked across the room to the large Eastern-facing windows. She opened the heavy curtains and looked out at the expanse of green trees and low, rolling hills before her. Beyond them, somewhere in the distance, was the sea. She had never seen it before.

"Eponine," Musichetta said suddenly. "What will you do today? People will know that you didn't…you know. Word will get around quickly."

Eponine turned, momentarily panicked again as she realized what Musichetta meant. "Because there's no blood," she whispered in realization. "They will look at the sheets."

Musichetta nodded. "If Captain Courfeyrac is mistaken about the prince changing his mind, this is further proof that could help him nullify your marriage. What will you do?"

Eponine silently stared at the bed, the wheels turning in her head as she rapidly assessed her situation. Finally, she said quietly, "Get my dagger. It's at the bottom of my trunk."

Musichetta nodded and did as Eponine asked, digging through the remaining items in the heavy trunk and finally emerging with the small silver dagger in hand. It was plain and unadorned, but always got the job done.

"How much blood should there be?" Eponine asked. "Obviously, I've not done this before."

"Not very much," Musichetta assured her.

Eponine nodded as she removed her dressing gown and carelessly tossed it over a chair. "I can't cut myself where anyone might see." She sat in the middle of the bed and pulled her chemise up while she unsheathed the dagger. "Here?" she asked, holding the dagger lightly against her inner thigh, a place where no one (not even her husband, she thought ruefully) would ever see the mark.

"I can do it instead of you, Eponine," Musichetta offered. "Please let me."

"No," Eponine said firmly. "Absolutely not, I will do it. Here?" she asked again.

Musichetta nodded. "But not too deep," she reminded, "remember there shouldn't be too much blood."

Eponine pressed the dagger into the soft flesh of her thigh, creating a shallow cut. She winced as the first trickle of blood appeared, and when she felt there was enough, gently pressed her leg against the sheets. "Will this do?"

Musichetta nodded, then handed her a rag to stop the bleeding. "If it comes down to it, it is now our word against theirs."

"Hopefully there will be no questions at all. Why would there be as long as they can see the evidence?" Eponine rummaged through her trunk again for something to wrap around her leg, then tossed the bloody cloth into the fire.


Musichetta dutifully removed the sheets and took them to the wash, where someone would be waiting to verify that they were indeed stained with her virgin blood. Halfway through the morning, another knock sounded on Eponine's door. She opened it to find the prince again, his expression stormy.

"Good morning, husband," Eponine greeted with a small sneer. She mock curtsied and closed the door behind him. "Did you sleep well?"

He turned to look at her, his jaw clenched. Dark circles underneath his eyes indicated his rest was as fitful as hers. "You didn't have to bloody the sheets. I had already changed my mind, just as Captain Courfeyrac told you."

"I needed more assurance than that," Eponine chided. "You know very well that your ill-conceived plans of yesterday would have ruined me. Or worse. You don't know my father."

The prince didn't respond, but turned and crossed to the windows, his back to her. "So we are stuck, then. Married."

"So it seems."

Eponine crossed the room and stood next to him. They both gazed silently out the window for several minutes. When she couldn't stand it anymore, she said hesitantly, "What will we do now?"

"What do you hope to gain from this marriage?" Prince Antoine asked bluntly as he turned to face her.

"Nothing," Eponine lied smoothly; although, she reflected, it wasn't truly a lie. She didn't want anything. Her father did. "It is nothing more than a political alliance between our kingdoms. An assurance that we will help each other if the need ever arises."

"You have a brother."

"And a sister." Eponine swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat. Just thinking of her siblings made her fight back tears.

Prince Antoine narrowed his eyes. "Ah…they are your weakness."

Eponine gaped. "My weakness? I think not. They are my strength." She straightened and glared at him. "I would do anything for them."

"Your sister is seldom seen, from what I hear." He practically ignored her words, and kept steering the conversation where he wanted it to go. "And when she is, people say she seems like nothing more than an overgrown child, though I hear she is considered the beauty in your family. Strange that your father didn't want her here in your place?"

"What are you trying to say, Your Highness?" Eponine's hands clenched into fists at her sides. Her sister's safety and reputation were of utmost importance to her.

"Nothing. I just find it curious." He turned and surveyed the room, and when he turned back to her, his entire demeanor changed. He seemed almost apologetic. "Do not get comfortable in these chambers. My father made it clear that you are to be moved to the rooms connected to mine…apparently, so I can have you at my disposal whenever I choose."

Eponine's cheeks colored in embarrassment, anger, and resignation. Her body was not her own, that she knew, but it didn't make it any easier to accept. "As you wish. I am your wife, after all. I am here to give you an heir, am I not?" She couldn't keep the bitterness from her tone.

"If you can believe it," he said slowly, "I do not care a whit whether or not I ever have a son. Or daughter. So, rest assured that that part of your marital duties will be quite easy to fulfill. I will not visit your bedchamber."

Eponine stared at him again, shocked and dismayed. She had no response; no man, let alone a future king, had ever expressed such sentiments to her. Not wanting an heir was unheard of. And if he truly felt what he just expressed, her job would be much, much more difficult.

"You will move this afternoon. Have your lady pack your things." The prince turned without waiting for a response and left the room. Eponine looked after him in a daze.

He was truly the strangest man she'd ever met.


Eponine stepped hesitantly into her father's dank and musty "panic room," as he called it. Hidden underneath the castle, even below the dungeons, it was a small, heavily reinforced space that was almost impossible to find. Only a few people knew of its existence, and now that the tunnel that connected it to the outside world, an escape passage that emerged miles away from the castle, was complete, it was her father's favorite place. If he ever needed to escape quickly, the odds were that no one would be able to stop him. In the years since he'd declared himself king, Thenardier's paranoia had only grown. He was a short-tempered, merciless tyrant, but still calculating and shrewd. A dangerous combination.

"Daughter," Thenardier said calmly as she closed the door behind her.

"Father." Eponine raised her eyebrows as she noticed her sister in the corner. Azelma seemed oblivious to the room's conditions – she sat happily in a chair, a piece of parchment on her lap and a short, stubby piece of charcoal in her hand. Her sketch was childish and smudged, but Azelma loved to draw.

"I have news that concerns you," Thenardier said with his typical sneer as he settled into the only other chair in the room. "I doubt you will welcome it, but you will do as I say, anyway. Won't you?"

Eponine didn't answer, but waited for him to go on, all the while keeping her eyes on her sister.

"You're to be married."

Eponine's heart hammered in her chest, but she tried very hard to seem unaffected by the news. Again, she didn't answer. Showing no emotion was the best way to get under her father's skin without outright provoking him.

"Make no mistake, Eponine," her father continued as he leaned forward, "you have a very important job to do for daddy now. And I'm trusting you. Do you deserve my trust?"

Eponine nodded shortly.

"Good. And even if you don't trust me, well…" He gestured to the prettier Thenardier sister in the corner, the thick auburn curls in her hair still shiny even here. "She depends on you, doesn't she?"

Eponine finally turned her eyes to her father. "What does my marrying have to do with Azelma? Why does this sound like a threat to her?"

Thenardier smiled serenely and laid out his plans to his daughter. Over the years, he'd formed a friendly relationship with King Philippe I of Corinth, so much so that they contemplated for years whether to betroth their children. Since Prince Antoine proved himself a valiant, if foolish soldier, fighting alongside his men in last year's invasion, the king worried for the health of his only son. It was time for him to wed and produce another heir; a "spare," as Thenardier preferred to call it. And that is where Eponine came in.

Eponine narrowed her eyes at the end of her father's explanation. There were clearly details left out, reasons for choosing Corinth over anywhere else, and Eponine thought she suspected why. "Why not the Prince of Calormen in the East? He showed interest in me last year, did he not?"

"Ah, but I couldn't bear to have my only…useful…daughter so far away." Corinth bordered their own land – Eponine knew it would be easy to unite their boundaries. And besides that, not many other kings were friendly toward Thenardier; they feared men like him, men who led violent, criminal lives and murdered kings to take their power. It was wisest for most to stay steadily neutral.

"Why do you want Corinth?" Eponine asked, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. "There are wealthier, larger places. And why do you need me to take it? Just do it, the way you took Montfermeil."

Thenardier shook his head, but didn't bother explaining why. They both knew – he had squandered the wealth "inherited" when he overthrew the previous king of Montfermeil. He had men, quite a large army, but without money to fund a war effort, they would be repelled in an instant. Prince Antoine had already proven himself a skilled military leader, and Corinth had piles of money to spare.

"I will never succeed unless I take the kingdom from the inside. In other words, though there are many people I would trust more than you, dear daughter, I am afraid you are my best solution."

Eponine swallowed and glanced at Azelma, wondering again why she was here. Azelma held up her drawing with a grin and Eponine managed a shaky smile in return.

"What am I to do, then?" she asked.

"Be a faithful and obedient wife," Thenardier said firmly. "And give me an heir to the Corinthian throne. That is your only job."

Eponine gritted her teeth. "And if I don't?"

Thenardier gestured to Azelma. "Then you won't see your sister ever again. And there's no telling what husband will want her, damaged goods that she is."

Her hands bunched into fists at her sides as Eponine took a step towards her father. "She cannot marry!" Eponine hissed. "There is too much she doesn't understand! Leave her out of this – I will do what you ask if you leave her alone and let her come with me."

Thenardier shook his head and smiled as he leaned back in his chair. His posture and mannerisms suggested nothing amiss. He knew he was in complete control, and it made Eponine's blood boil.

"Oh, no. You know that isn't possible, Eponine. I will throw you a bone, however, out of the kindness of my heart…Give me an heir within a year of your marriage, and I will allow your sister to come to you."

Eponine considered his words, her jaw painfully clenched. There were so many factors to consider – her future husband, for example. She knew next to nothing about him. He could be a good man, someone she could ally with, tell the truth…or he could be horrible, like her own father. There was no telling.

"Fine," she whispered. "I will do as you ask. You swear you will allow her to come to me, and stay with me, if I give birth to a son?"

"I swear." Thenardier stood and offered his hand to his daughter. His grip was icy.


Enjolras left his wife's chambers in a worse mood than when he entered, and he didn't think that could be possible.

Marriage made his plans infinitely more complicated. He didn't want anyone else to get hurt in the long run, but being tied to him meant that Eponine surely would. It was a shame, considering she seemed like a perfectly nice girl. But, as Combeferre and Courfeyrac pointed out the night before, there was nothing to be done about it now. She was here, they were married, and his father had won this round.

Enjolras strode quickly to his father's council chambers and was admitted as soon as the guards saw him coming. His father was alone inside, and looked up as his son crossed the threshold.

"Good morning, son. I trust your wedding night left you satisfied?"

Enjolras clenched his jaw and clasped his hands behind his back to keep himself from launching across his father's desk to wring his neck. "Quite. You may release the idiot Pontmercy now. Or rather, send word to your goons to release him."

"Idiot?" His father chuckled. "For thinking so poorly of him, you certainly went to great lengths to ensure his safety."

"He is innocent," Enjolras said quietly. "I would have done the same for anyone. It astonishes me that you are so desperate to control me that you would resort to kidnapping one of your loyal subjects to blackmail me into marriage. What would Pontmercy's grandfather say if he knew?"

"Oh, but he won't find out," the king said confidently. "I know you won't tell him."

Enjolras narrowed his eyes at his father. He walked a fine line with him, and was never quite sure of how much the king knew. Or suspected. The elder Enjolras was a shrewd man, just like the younger, only less kind and more power hungry, which was why he had managed to hang on to the crown for so long.

"You will release him immediately," Enjolras said again, his voice icy.

"Are you afraid he'll talk?" his father taunted. "Reveal something you'd rather keep secret?"

"I have no secrets," Enjolras lied easily. "How could I when your spy network so easily keeps track of me?"

His father smiled serenely and looked back down at the papers before him. "Pontmercy will be released by nightfall. Is that all?"

With a clipped nod and no goodbye, Enjolras turned and left his father. Damn it all to hell – to save his friend, he'd sacrificed another's freedom. An innocent girl who was now his wife.

The word left a sour taste in his mouth.


I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. If you did (or didn't), please drop a review and let me know. This is completely different from anything I've ever written before, so I'd love to have some feedback and hear your thoughts. Thanks for reading, and look for the next chapter in a few days.

-Caroline