A/N: I'm not sure if anyone can tell, but I seem to enjoy a good old AU once in awhile. By now, darling Judy-BB probably hates me for coming up with the oddest ideas, but this isn't as far-fetched as Captured Doves is. ;)

They Meet is over, and I needed something to work on for the summer because one fic isn't enough for me (ugh), so one day, it hit me: an arranged marriage AU. I've never seen anyone do this before, so I'm excited to- possibly- be the first. The logistics will be explained; don't worry. I'd really appreciate it if you left your opinions and all that jazz.

Also, as of right now, updates will come fairly frequently. I have written like.. ten or so chapters ahead. I think this will be my longest fic yet, so hold onto your pants. I plan on updating every Monday and Thursday; but that's only for now.

As always, enjoy. And a thank you to my darling love, Brittany, or insignificantramblings, for being a doll-babe and helping with this. Everyone should go check out her stories 'cause they're pretty kick-ass.

Pairings: E/É; more to come

Disclaimer: I own nothing from Les Miserables, nor do I claim to.


The Bargain

Éponine Thénardier always had the habit of biting her fingernails down to the stub. In the end, her fingers would be sore and tender and she would regret her choice, but when the time came that her nails were once again longer, something would happen and off they would go. Once and a while, in a desperate attempt to stop, she would douse her fingers in the sauce of a pepper or in alcohol. Alcohol would always backfire, because, after all, it was alcohol; pepper sauce just didn't deter Éponine enough, but she would always try.

On one particular evening in the early months of 1831, Éponine found herself yet again painting her fingers in crushed peppers. She was awfully content, which was certainly odd for a woman in her situation. Sitting at one of the tables in her father's inn, Éponine also found herself humming a sad tune. Her good mood ended, though, when the door to the backroom slammed open and shook the inn's walls. Éponine set her fingers on the table, blowing slightly to urge along the drying. Her father stormed into the inn, her mother in tow. He looked particularly angry that evening; his already graying orange hair more prominent because his face was ashen white, his hands were bunched into fists so tight Éponine was scared his fists would pop right off.

Her hands shook as she quickly folded up her napkin full of treasures; she shoved the pouch into her pocket and smoothed down her hair. Though her life was bleak, Éponine was not scared; she was confident she would find a way out, and soon.

"Papa?" she said, wrinkling her nose when 'Parnasse made a pass for her waist; she shoved him away.

Thénardier turned around quickly, eyes wide with anger. "What, girl?!" His booming voice should have made Éponine at least flinch, but she hardly even blinked.

She swallowed. "Are you alright?"

Thénardier scoffed and placed his hands on his hips. "Do I look alright?" Éponine shook her head slowly. "Then don't ask silly questions," he growled. "Go find your sister!"

Éponine nodded and turned on her heel, bounding up the stairs. It was rare that Thénardier requested to see Azelma. He found her to be too much of a push-over, which often resulted in him being able to earn more money, but he was too ashamed of her to say so. If something had indeed gone wrong, which Éponine already figured, Azelma was either the root of the issue or the bargain. Éponine would do whatever she could to keep her little sister safe, but there was only so much power she had, as well.

Knocking on her sister's door, Éponine skirted inside. "'Zelma, wake up!" she whispered harshly, shaking her sister's shoulder. Azelma rolled over and covered her face with the crook of her elbow.

"Éponine? What is it?"

"Papa. He wants to speak with you."

This got her sister up and awake. "Papa wants to speak.. with.. me?" Éponine couldn't bear to look in 'Zelma's eyes; they would be shinning with affection and hope.

Éponine nodded and took her sister's wrist rather roughly. She could feel the uneasy air in the home, like always, but something was terribly different. Her mother had been awfully quiet; usually she was kicking up quite ruckus, too. If Éponine's father had lost something- the inn, his child- Éponine wasn't sure whether her mother would be relieved, angry, or down-right unaffected.

Down the stairs the two Thénardier sisters trudged, trying to rack their brains for some sort of explanation. They didn't expect to receive one, though, and they didn't. Standing behind their father in the tavern, Éponine twitched her nose, and held onto 'Zelma's wrist tighter. Thénardier was hardly paying attention when he daughters returned, but that was old news. He was purely entangled in what seemed to be a messy conversation with a well-dressed man.

Thénardier was just about the same height as the other man, but the latter held his shoulders more erect, whereas, Thénardier was constantly slumped over. The other man was impeccably dressed and his fingers flitted over the surface of one of the tables. Finding his finger to be coating in crumbs, dust, and other particles, he cringed and wiped his finger in a handkerchief.

The well-dressed man held up a hand to stop Thénardier mid-sentence. "We had a deal, Thénardier. I am a man of my word, and I expect you to hold your end of the bargain." he suddenly lowered his voice and leaned in closer. "You know this is wrong, but it has to be done!"

Thénardier looked as if he was struggling to find the words he wanted. Finally, he gave up, and slapped his hands on his thighs. A cruel smile graced his lips and Éponine pulled Azelma closer. Her father had "thrown Éponine to the dogs" many a time before. Azelma was merely a child; he wouldn't do such a thing to her. Would he?

"Azelma," Thénardier reached around grasped Azelma's shoulder, pulling her forward. "This is-"

The man held up his hand once more. "My name does not matter." He eyed 'Zelma over a few times, judging her.

Thénardier closed his eyes in irritation. He began again. "Azelma, this is your new father-in-law."

Éponine felt the world crash beneath her feet. He tongue turned to lead and her throat closed up. Father-in-law? This bourgeois man?! What had her father done? Acting purely on instinct, Éponine lurched forward and separated Azelma from the man and her father. She turned and faced Thénardier.

"What on earth are you talking about?" she growled.

Thénardier smirked and rubbed 'Zelma's shoulder; the girl was in too much shock to either pull away or lean in to her father's rare touch. He pointed to the man, who was looking rather impatient. "He bought 'Zelma."

This shouldn't have come as a shock to Éponine. He'd done much worse things in the past. Still, Éponine felt her eyebrows raise and her voice crack. "And.. and you let him?"

Thénardier shrugged, pushing Azelma forward; the man caught her wrist. "He seems to think the son of his is either playing for the other team; wants it clean out of him. So, he bought the kid a wife."

Éponine looked between the man, her struggling sister, and her father. "How did this come about?"

The man opened his mouth to interrupt her father, but the younger man wouldn't let it happen. "He's got a gambling problem, too." Thénardier grinned his yellow-toothed grin and the man across from him snarled. "Frequents here often, though you wouldn't notice. I heard about his problem when he was so drunk he couldn't figure what was up and what was down, or whether or not his ass was his face, or his face was his ass. I may have.. used it to my advantage."

Éponine took a deep breath. "You foul, foul man," she breathed.

Thénarider shrugged once again. "I've heard worse." He turned to the father-in-law. "Pay up!"

"No! Father, please! You can't do this. She's only a child!" Éponine found herself once again in between the two men. Her father looked as if he was about to strike her into next month.

"Out of the way, 'Ponine," he whispered. "You'll get it; I promise ya."

In a desperate attempt to save her sister from ruin and disparage, Éponine pushed the quivering and quiet Azelma out of the way. "I'll go. In her place." She felt her chest heaving.

Thénardier squinted and looked at the man. "If you want any grand-babies, 'Ponine'll give them to ya. She knows what to do." Éponine shut her eyes, as if to send away the words. It was true; she was not a virgin any longer. She'd hadn't been for years. It had been her father's fault, of course. He'd claimed they needed more, more! And thus, Éponine, at the tender age of thirteen, was shoved into the hands of an ugly little soldier. Sometimes, she still had dreams of all the men after that. It wasn't until her father found her to be "too tearful," that he finally allowed her to stop.

The man looked Éponine up and down a few times, like he had for Azelma. The girl in question was shaking her head, muttering, "No, 'Ponine. Please."

"Hush," Éponine threw her way.

The man reached for Éponine elbow, lifting it up. "You think you can fix my son?"

Éponine narrowed her eyes; her heart already cold toward her whole "new family." She'd go to hell before she gave them what they wanted. "Yes, monsieur." The word was drawn out and spat onto the floor. The man merely laughed.

"Yes. She'll do. You understand this transaction must be told to no one. We are, obviously, of a higher class." Éponine felt her father tense. "My son can not be seen marrying some gutter-rat, so we'll have to spruce her up a little; buy her some new dresses, fix that god-awful hair. Still, I will hunt you down and have you.. disposed of if word gets out." The man raised his eyebrow at Éponine's father.

Thénardier let go of Éponine's hand; she hadn't even realized he'd been holding it. It made her heart hurt all the more. "Wonderful! That'll be five thousand francs." He held out his hand and Éponine felt her mouth go dry. They'd be set for life.

The man whipped out the paper-money as if it were nothing and placed it into Thénardier's hand. Éponine had already figured the man was rich; who knew how much he had?! The man stared at Éponine as her father counted the money over and over.

"Get your things," he said.

"This is all I have."

"All the better. We'll get you new clothes sooner or later. Say goodbye then.. what was it?"

"Éponine."

His fingers flitted about as if he cared, though she knew he didn't. "Yes. Éponine. Thank you, Thénardier." He shook hands with her father. "I'm sure she'll work wonders on the boy."

Thénardier smiled shortly and then looked at Éponine. "Do me proud, girl." He tweaked her nose and then promptly left the room. Éponine's mother gave her a short hug and sloppy, over-dramatic kiss. Éponine turned to Azelma and pulled her so close the younger girl could feel the air leaving her.

All the same, she whispered into Éponine's chest, "You didn't have to do that."

"I did."

"I don't want you to go."

"I don't want to either, 'Zelma. But you have to take care of yourself. I don't know if I'll be able to get out or not. If I can, I'll find you, and we'll run away, like we've always planned." Éponine smiled and held Alzema's cheek in her palm. She pressed a short kiss to her forehead when she heard a rough, "Éponine!" behind her. "Time to go, butter-snout. I'll see you later." Éponine winked and gave her sister's hand a press, before turning on her heel and brushing out the the inn.