A/N: Okay, here's the deal about this particular story.
In this, I have the barricade having not happened prior to the events of this story, whose main events will occur in 1830. The Amis, at the start of the story, are all 18. During the main events of this story, all of the Amis will be 36, and the OC will be 18. There will also be chapter review questions to help understand the meaning behind the subtext of the story. At the end of the story, I will post some questions, almost like in a work study book, as my goal with this story is to help my friend improve her reading skills, which she asked for help with. I hope that that sufficiently explained the situation.
It will be mainly Les Miserables, but will also be half Phantom of the Opera.
And also, I haven't forgotten any of my other ongoing stories that have yet to be finished. I just lost my muse for them, and they probably won't be updated for a long time. HOWEVER, I have decided to not continue "We Will Never Be Apart." I completely have no idea what to do with that story anymore and will not be continuing it. I am also having serious doubts about, "I'm No Longer Alone." I have deleted, "Do You Hear The People Sing?".
Happy reading!
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Marius sat outside the room where his wife, Cosette, laid screaming obscenities, his hands chafed and running over each other as drops of sweat rolled down his forehead. His temple was throbbing as well, the red-hot blood coursing through his veins, his notorious red worried face showing prominently. Of course he was nervous…..Cosette was giving birth to their first baby, after all.
"Marius, you'll be fine, trust me," Combeferre said, gently nudging his lifelong-friend's shoulder. "Nothing can go wrong."
"But she can die or the baby..." Marius muttered worriedly, snapping his head up to give a concerned look at Combeferre. Then, he shook his head. "I don't even want to think about it. I'm so scared for her…."
Grantaire piped up from his perch on the settee, "Marius, obtenirquelques balles! Your wife's just about to have a baby. It won't be long before we'll have another little freckle walking around."
Marius interjected, "Hey," but before Marius could say that he resented that, a loud scream squeezed under the crack of the maplewood door that made Marius' face go as white as a sheet. He started to worriedly run his fingers through his sandy brown hair and mutter quietly as if he had gone crazy.
~0~
After a few hours of fretting and reassuring, a sharp cry and wail of an infant echoed through the halls. Marius got pats on the back and, "Congratulations, mon ami," from Enjolras and Combeferre, and cries of, "Let us drink!" from Grantaire.
Oone of the midwives exited the room, rubbing her dirty hands on a rag and occasionally dabbing at her forehead which was covered with a sheen of perspiration. It took a moment before she glanced up and noticed that the Amis were all looking at her with a simultaneous, expectant look, almost as if it were believed that she brought news of the end of the world. The midwife stood up to her full height (which wasn't very tall….she was a short, jolly old lady who was a few pounds short of a barnyard) and asked, "Which one of you is Monsieur Pontmercy?"
Marius stood up on shaky legs and crossed the small space of the receiving rooms outside of his wife's bedroom. "I am," he replied, his voice wavering. Is she okay? Is the baby okay?" Without an answer, the midwife beckoned, asking Marius to follow her to the bedroom.
"Is she okay? Is my Cosette okay?" he continued to fret, rubbing and chafing his hands together in a worried muddle.
The lady opened the door with a flourish. "Why don't you see?"
Cosette was laying on the wooden four-poster-bed, cleaned up and tucked into a blanket. Her forehead was dotted with beads of sweat, and her skin was tinted a pinkish-red. Her long, curly, golden locks fell elegantly down her shoulders, although they were slightly mussed from her prior arduous efforts. A radiant smile shone on her face, and in her arms, Cosette held a little bundle of blankets that heaved with the signs of life and breathing.
"Come look at our daughter, Marius," Cosette smiled, holding out the bundle in an offer to him.
Marius stumbled over to Cosette's bedside and sat on the edge of the bed. "I….I….I have a daughter?" he stammered, gently reaching out to stroke the forehead of the newborn little girl. His daughter was perfect….to him, at least. Her forehead curved just right, her lips were shaped like her mother's, her ears were definitely her father's, and she had the familiar splay of freckles across her nose….not too much, like her father, but just enough to be noticeable.
"She….she's perfect," Marius stuttered. "Almost like you. Almost exactly like you…..you. Beautiful. Perfect. Our daughter."
Cosette giggled and handed her over to Marius. "Remember to support her head and cradle her like I was. Good, Marius. See, you won't break the baby like you thought. Call your friends in, Marius….yes, they'll want to know."
Marius followed his wife's instructions and leaned out of the door, saying, "Come look at my daughter!"
All of the Amis crowded into the room, each eagerly trying to get a glimpse of the newest little addition to Les Amis. Cries of, "Oh, she's so pretty, Marius!" and "Congratulations, mon ami!" echoed from some of his friends. Enjolras, being the silent and resigned one of their little revolutionary group, only offered a nod, and a slight smile, his golden curls bouncing with every movement. "Good job, Marius."
Jean Prouvaire pushed forward and stroked the baby's forehead. "Pretty, Marius and Cosette! What a darling child!"
And he then proceeded to recite this poem by William Shakespeare:
"O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that sweet odour which doth in it live.
The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye
As the perfumed tincture of the roses,
Hang on such thorns and play as wantonly
When summer's breath their masked buds discloses:
But, for their virtue only is their show,
They live unwoo'd and unrespected fade,
Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so;
Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made:
And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth,
When that shall fade, my verse distills your truth."
~~o~~
All of the people present in the bedroom at that time nodded in agreement.
Marius turned to Enjolras and Éponine, the latter of whom seemed to be trying to hold back tears, now that her beloved had been bound to somebody else permanently. She was resigned to her fate, and she did not show it, having bravery wrought into her fiber. "Enjolras, 'Ponine, we want you two to be the godparents."
Enjolras nodded. "Of course. I would be delighted." Éponine nodded her agreement with Enjolras. "But what is the child's name that I should be the godfather to?"
Everyone realized that this particular aspect of the birth had been forgotten in a singular movement, and all turned to Marius and Cosette expectantly. "Well?" was the unspoken question that resounded in everybody's heads, almost as in a telepathic message.
Marius and Cosette looked at each other, smiled, and announced, "Therese Christine Aria Pontmercy."
Nobody, however, noticed the man with a white mask on half of his face walking past the window with the doctor's bag, a black cape flying behind him.