A/N: Updated and edited to address some issues some of my reviewers pointed out.
It was in Cosette's dreams that she found some semblance of happiness.
In her dreams, there was no work. No yelling, no scolding, no crying, no beatings from whatever object Monsieur or Madame Thenardier could reach for. Brooms. Wooden planks. Boots. In her dreams, her body wouldn't have a single bruise or welt on her skin. Her hands and feet would not be dirty and red, fingers and toes hard and brown with callouses. Best of all, there were no chores. No sweeping dirty floors and being greeted with complaints about how she still couldn't clean it right. No washing the dishes with soapy water, hands stinging from the frigid bite of cold water. No carrying buckets of water so heavy that they pulled her down, like they were a huge pile of rocks. No scrubbing floors and tables with rags so worn from use that they barely did much cleaning.
In Cosette's dreams, she liked to imagine a better world. A world that was beautiful and heavenly, not barren or desolate like the world of the Waterloo Inn. The Inn, with its creaky wooden floors, the holes in all the walls, Monsieur and Madame Thenardier ruling the roost with their iron fists and permanently angry faces, mice scuttling about the attics, whatever else. In her dreams, Cosette was a princess, living on a lofty castle on a cloud. No, even better, Cosette's castle was made of clouds. Pure white, and soft like a baby bird's downy feathers, so soft that even a baby would be safe in their caress. White like the snows that would fall during the winter, only the clouds would be warm, like fresh bread. Bread, a luxury to those who had no food, shelter, or basic necessities.
In those dreams, Cosette had friends. Hundreds of girls and boys, either her own age, younger, or a little older than she. They always had happy, radiant smiles on their faces. Smiles warm, welcoming, and inviting, mouths never turning downward in scornful, disappointed frowns. Laughter would ring through the heavens. Joyful, cordial laughter, not the cruel, hateful laughter Eponine and Azelma would laugh whenever they pulled tricks on Cosette and had Madame Thenardier yell at her. Laughter ruled the roost, and there was no sadness. No sorrow and no tears. In Cosette's dreamful world, crying, shouting, talking too loud, and tears were not allowed.
Well, if they did talk loud, it would always be merry and full of joy. Cosette did make some exceptions in her dreamy cloudland, after all.
In her lofty dreamworld, Cosette had her own room. Many rooms. All of them filled to the brim with toys, toys she could never dream of having in the Waterloo Inn. Tiny animal figures carved out of wood by the finest woodcutters in the world. Large rings with bells on them that one would push with a stick to make it roll. The bell would ring with a dulcet, gentle sound. A far better sound than any yelling Cosette could endure. Tiny china sets complete with small plates and tea cups no bigger than her hand, with delicate little flowers painted on the surface. Blue and purple were her favorite colors, so she dreamed they were painted with bellflowers and forget-me-nots. Lavenders, too. Best of all were the dolls. Dolls as large as she, with perfect, round porcelain faces, thick black eyelashes, eyes as blue as the sky, all dressed in fine robes complete with petticoats and embroidered lace, just like the doll Eponine had. Watching Eponine sit by the fire and play with her doll always made Cosette burn with jealousy. How she yearned to have a doll of her own to play with and care for like it was a child! Alas, she couldn't, as she had to endure another day of scrubbing tables, sweeping, and more scoldings from the Madame.
She even thought of a name for her most favorite doll: Catherine. It was such a lovely name. Far lovelier than her own. Elegant and dignified, that was what Catherine would be.
However, there was one single aspect of her dreams that was always the best out of everything. Better than everything else she could possibly dream up.
"Cosette."
Once in a while, when she was in an especially deep sleep, Cosette would hear a voice. A soft, gentle voice like a bell. A voice she hadn't heard in so many years. She would turn as she was at play, wondering where the voice came from. Gradually, the voice became clearer.
"Cosette."
When Cosette turned around, her eyes fixated on a mysterious figure. A lady all in white, with golden curls like her own tumbling all about, with eyes the brightest blue she had ever seen. Blue just like her own eyes. The woman was always smiling, arms open for Cosette.
Cosette recognized her right away.
"Mama!" Cosette ran across the clouds, yearning for those warm arms to embrace her just once more. "Mama! Mama!" With every step she took, Cosette cried for her mother louder and louder.
Finally, Cosette leaped into her mother's arms. Her embrace was warmer than any fire or warm coat she could have, soft just like the clouds she danced upon. The little girl rested on her mother's breast, closing her eyes as the lovely woman holding her sang a lullaby. She wasn't exactly the best singer. Sometimes she was a little off tune, and her voice would sound a bit raspy at points. But Cosette didn't care. Her mother's voice was the best sound in the world as far as she was concerned.
"Cosette. I love you very much," Her mother crooned.
"Will you come home soon?"
Her mother nodded without hesitation. "I will, my child."
This was far and away the best part of her dream. Cosette smiled with contentment as her mother stroked her hair, humming the lullaby from before. The little girl wished she could stay like this forever and ever.
"Cosette!"
What was that? Cosette could see the image of her mother fading. Where did that voice come from? It wasn't her mother's. She knew that for sure.
"Cosette, wake up!"
The clouds disappeared. The children vanished. Her mother faded. The toys, flowers, and castle turned to nothing. Cosette could see white light so blinding that she couldn't see anything else.
An explosive succession of knocks on the door roused Cosette from sleep in an undignified manner. Cosette awoke with a start, her startled eyes taking in the bed of hay and the dingy coverlet. Looming over her was a rotund woman with flaming eyes looking right down at Cosette in angry, narrow slits. But her face was red like fire, burning with rage.
"You lazy, abominable girl! Thought you'd sleep in today, huh?!" Madame Thenardier roared, her voice so loud and booming that Cosette's ear drums were likely to explode. The girl leaped to her feet, horror-struck by the sudden appearance of the massive, domineering woman standing over her. "Well, not on my watch, you're not! The kitchen floor isn't gonna sweep itself, you know! Get moving!" She whacked the wall with the broom handle before stomping away.
It was then that reality pulled her out of her dreaming state. Her tiny arms and legs donned fresh bruises from the night before, turning a darker shade of purple as the night had passed. Her hands and feet were red and brown from a combination of dirt, callouses, and scratches from whatever nature decided to poke them with, like sticks or splinters. Strands of her matted, unkempt hair stood upward, facing the ceiling, defying gravity. Cosette wore naught but the tattered rags of an old potato sack, which didn't do anything to cover her battered arms and legs.
A grim reminder that she was no princess.
With a sigh, little Cosette stood up and walked out of her desolate room, enduring yet another day of sorrow and drudgery. At least she still had her dreams.