A/N: I got this prompt off tumblr where someone wanted Eponine to die along with Enjolras and Grantaire, and I was like, game.
Here you go. Please enjoy and favorite and review if you like.
(P.S. I am not Victor Hugo or a reincarnation or a spawn of Hugo.)
She was alive.
By for God's sake miracle, she was alive. She pushed her self up with her good hand and looked around. She was in the cafe. Dead bodies laid about everywhere. It was gory and nasty and bloody. It was horrible.
Soliders. Students.
It didn't matter. Nothing matter anymore. She pushed her self off the ground and staggered weakly.
"'Ponine," a child like voice called out her name. She turned hoping to see her brother, Gavroche, her little gamin, but alas, it was only Grantaire. He looked as if he just woken up.
He did just wake up. He woke up from a nightmare just to realize that reality was much worse.
"There's so much blood." He sounded like a child, even to himself. The woman—no the girl (they were all just children playing war after all)—nodded in agreement.
Gun shots rung out.
The sound of dead bodies hit the floor above them.
"Come," Grantaire offered the gamine his hand. She gave him her good hand while keeping her bloody hand close to her chest. He helped her up the stairs.
"Surrender now," they hear the French solider order. They pushed their way from the other soliders to see Enjolras, their fearless leader, standing in front of the window by his lonesome self surrounded with rifles pointed at him. The blonde hair man widened his gaze as the two stood around him.
"Enjolras," the girl said. She attempted to stand beside him, but Grantaire lightly held her back.
"Do you permit it?" the drunk asked. The soliders looked on in confusion as the leader furrowed his brow.
"Yes," he said. In his mind, Grantaire, though dubious and loud, was his right hand man. A man who he had truly respected, and in turn, respected him as well. Eponine, she was another story. He had watched for months, for it was for people like her did he build a barricade.
She was special. They both were.
They were Enjolras' personification of Patria.
The dream of a freedom and a better life.
A dream they all longed for.
A dream that now looked unachievable.
Grantaire stood to the left of Enjolras and interlaced their fingers together. Eponine stood on the other side. The leader offered her the flag. She nodded. Together they lifted the red banner up.
The soliders watched in awe as the three revolutionaries stood up in pride.
"Guns at the ready." The head solider commanded. Every solider dumbly did as the were told.
"Fire."
Withing seconds, severals bullets hit their bodies. Eponine and Grantaire both dropped to the ground. Even through death, they hadn't let go. Eponine held on to the flag, to the dream of a better life. Grantaire held on to Enjolras, to the dream of following the great man.
Their leader, their Enjolras fell back through the window. His mouth still opened with his last words enternally left on his lips.
"Vive la France."