Not been proofread. You have been warned.
About a year ago…
"I wish to fight for the right to be a free citizen! There is no justice in being enslaved by a society where the poor are treated as filthy rats and the rich live in luxury!"
"You cannot."
"Why must I not?"
"Because you are a woman, Alexandra! It's time you learnt your place!"
My place is here…
"You…really think anyone is going to fall for this?" Enjolras asked, looking herself up and down as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her curly blonde hair which usually hung lose around her neck was tied back and hidden under an old brown cap Combeferre had borrowed (stolen) from his father. Most of what she wore belonged to Combeferre, such as the baggy white shirt, grey trousers and boots. The only thing that did not belong to him was the red coat that was swung over her shoulders. (The coat belonged to her grandfather who had given it to her in his will.)
Combeferre hummed, tapping his foot against the wooden planked floor. "I don't know…you're still a little too…beautiful…even without the makeup. You look like a sixteen year old." Enjolras rolled her eyes and hit Combeferre on the forearm with the back of her hand. "Perhaps they will believe that you are just an attractive young man with the elegance of a woman-"
"This is bloody ridiculous. No one is ever going to follow a pansy teenage boy with a pretty face!" Enjolras exclaimed.
Combeferre placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her from exploding. "It doesn't matter what they see…what matters is what they hear…what they feel. Trust me, the people will come, if you choose to call them."
…
Now…
"I don't understand women." Enjolras commented as she strolled down the street in her white laced dress made from sky blue silk imported from London...not that Enjolras cared for these expensive luxuries(her fashion sense was practically non-existent) . Her mother and father had suggested she get out of the house to get some fresh air. She was taking a short walk around the square with Combeferre who, unsurprisingly, was wearing the same clothes as the night before.
"That's an odd thing to say." Combeferre replied, a gentle chuckle touching his lips. "Perhaps you're getting a little too into your character Alexandria."
"I'm serious. Why is it that women have to force themselves to become the lower sex? Women are just as independent as men, and yet they seem obliged to become the less dominant in a relationship…or in any kind of social convention for that matter. It baffles me. Perhaps I'm just different to other women…" Whilst Enjolras was ranting, she almost tripped over her own shoes several times, momentarily forgetting how to walk in heels. "The worst part about it is that most women don't seem to mind. They just take every day as it comes, not wanting to take charge for themselves."
"I guess the world could use a good leader, and after all, men can't do everything." Combeferre shook his head at himself, personally amused. "For what it's worth Enjolras, I think you're a great leader, and I pray that one day, we shall be able to follow you without you having to wear this mask."
Enjolras smiled. "Well, I don't exactly see it as a mask. I see it as my other half." The two walked in comfortable silence for a moment or two, before Enjolras spoke again, a new strength intertwined in her voice. "You're a good friend Combeferre. I couldn't have made it here without you…thank you."
Combeferre shrugged. "Don't thank me yet Alexandria. This war for the new world is far from over."
Enjolras shook her head and sighed, "…Yes, you're right. Sorry."
"You don't need to do that either."
…
Eponine stood at the side of the cobblestone road, her arms folded in an informal fashion and her back pressed up against the damp stone wall of the old cigar shop that sat in the middle of the square. The young independent woman lolled her head back against the wet surface of the building and took a breath of agony as yet another day of her miserable life floated on by. She watched as the rich young men and women dallied about their usual business, whilst the 'others' scurried like mice, back into the dark where they belong. A familiar voice from behind her spoke, "Lost your head Eponine?" she turned to see young Montparnasse in his blue waistcoat (which was about five years old) and black cap. "Or perhaps you're just waiting for your life to end before it's even begun."
"What do you want?" Eponine hissed.
"Can't a friend talk to a friend without having to explain himself?" Eponine rolled her eyes at the man who was smirking to himself. Suddenly, his eyes seemed to wonder, as though he were distracted by something.
"What are you gawking at?" She asked the dazed man.
"You know most of the men and women of Paris do you not?" he asked, holding his hands behind his back innocently.
"Most I'd say, though, I don't care for the snobs. Why?"
"Do you recognise that woman?" Montparnasse gestured to the young lady standing on the opposite side of the street. She was rather tall and skinny with curly locks of golden hair that fell to her shoulders. Her dress brought out the colour in her sharp and icy blue eyes. Eponine sniggered at the woman, either out of disgust or jealousy…or both. "Well, do you?"
"No. I don't usually pay a generous amount of attention to rich young women."
"She looks somewhat familiar…"
Eponine hummed for a moment. She then said, "She reminds me of a student that Marius knows. I don't recall his name though…they're part of a group who are plotting to overthrow the government or something like that…Les Amis de l'ABC. Marius doesn't speak of it much."
Montparnasse clicked his fingers. "Right. The 'Les Amis'. I've seen them once or twice…that woman...she looks oddly like their leader, Enjolras…in fact the resemblance is rather astonishing…perhaps they are related."
"Why do you care so much?"
The young man shrugged. "I have a lot of time on my hands 'Ponine. It has to go somewhere...and we all know, I am but a man who likes the taste of trouble."
Just a heads up, Montparnasse plays a larger part in this fic.
