BOOK THREE:

Lives Left Behind

Contrast of the Old and the Young

It was Foulayronnes journeyed to first, and it took nine days to arrive by carriage. Normally such a venture would have taken less than half that, but they made plenty of stops and spent an entire day in Limoges. There, Enjolras purchased two silver necklaces with the traditional Limoges blue glasswork the city had become so famous for. These were given to his daughters, and as they approached the house he had grown up in, both were wearing the pendants proudly.

The house was indeed a mansion, though not on any sort of estate. Where Aurelie's childhood home was grand, Enjolras', by comparison, would have been called a humble abode. This was the difference between those with title and those with wealth, though a title was certainly part and parcel with a fortune.

None the less, the house was impressive. Built in the early 1700's, it was constructed of chiseled stone the color of ash, with roofing that rose into tall peaks above the second floor. The many chimneys were well-spaced, a sign of large rooms and the necessity to warm such with many fires in the winter. While the front of the house had a multitude of windows, the sides and rear held few to stem off both the heat and the cold; stone serving as cool insulation. Their choice of landscape was to echo the Palace of Versailles on a far smaller scale; symmetric patterns of green throughout the expanse of the grounds. They resided in the outskirts, just as the city gave way to farmland, which offered them enough space between neighbors without having too large an area to care for.

Their household retained many servants on their payroll; enough that the carriage was met just as it stopped at the front door. A tall, boney man with ebony hair held his hand out to assist the family from their transport. Arrangements had been made ahead of time for the driver's lodging in the servant's quarters, and while Enjolras and his family were escorted to the door, the driver and two footmen began to remove the family's suitcases from the top of the coach.

Once through the door, Aurelie could not capture the necks of her twins as they launched themselves into the sitting room, where the elder Enjolras' stood in front of the fireplace. Proper as they may be, however, the Madame began to beam before she too could not control the urge.

"Oh, my darlings!" she cried, hunching down and holding her arms out for a large embrace.

Aurelie and Enjolras hovered near the door with serene smiles upon their lips; their children of course the sole focus for now, as grandchildren should be.

"My, Nico! How you've grown! Those trousers barely fit you!" Monsieur Enjolras said, clapping the middle child on the back. Nico, of course, smiled widely at this. He'd felt for too long that he hovered in his brother's shadow, as his frame had been tiny from birth. The pleasure of knowing he was growing into his age was sensational, and he was immensely proud his grandfather had taken notice.

"Honore," Madame Enjolras said through her breath. She leaned back, studying him with a clever brow as she shook her head. "I'd swear it was twenty years ago as I look at you. How strange it is to feel as though I'm looking at a painting of Alexandre when he was your age."

It was Honore's greatest pride to be compared to his father, and many did, directly or unintentionally. His smug smile as his grandmother said this was one of the few times Honore could not control his features, as it made him too content to contain.

Aurelie finally locked eyes with the matron and a wistful smile crossed both of their lips.

"Aurelie, you beautiful, beautiful girl," Madame Enjolras said as she crossed the room, her soft features beaming at her daughter-in-law. One would never know the woman was sixty, as few wrinkles were noticed on her porcelain skin.

Leaning in to kiss her mother-in law, Aurelie said, "You look well, Odile. Thank you for taking us in on such short notice."

"Nonsense!" Odile said, waving her left hand in the air to assure Aurelie it was unthinkable. "A chance to see my grandchildren? To think that would ever be a burden. And my son! Alexandre, you shine with your family at your side, don't ever visit me without them."

"Mother," Enjolras said humbly, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

Monsieur Enjolras walked staunchly toward Aurelie and Enjolras. Despite the gut he had acquired in these late years, he was small boned, just like his son. His hair had grayed, but he had not gone bald, so Aurelie had that in her favor. Juxtaposing his sweet wife, Raimund was strict and stern, very much the way Enjolras had been before Aurelie had softened his heart. But the parallel was drawn; Raimund expected greatness from his son, which he had achieved, just as Enjolras expected greatness from Honore and, in turn, Nico, once the boy had matured. The only difference was that Enjolras would play with his children whereas his father had never played with him.

But his grandchildren seemed to be the exception, and while he always appeared awkward in his kindness and warmth toward them, it was genuine. The Enjolras children softened the man where his son hadn't.

"Alexandre," Raimund said, inclining his head properly. "I'm pleased you decided to pay us a visit."

His demeanor subdued, as it always was around his father, Enjolras responded with a bland raise of a brow: "It's good to see you too, father."

Always understanding the tension between her son and husband, Odile smiled warmly. "We'll have supper in an hour. Let's get you settled in. Filibert and Mathieu no doubt have your belongings in your rooms by now. Take the blue room with the bathroom, and the two yellow rooms are already made for the children."

"Thank you, Odile," Aurelie said, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. "It'll be nice to have a change of clothes."

Once the children were wrangled, they made their way up the long, polished staircase and settled their offspring; Aurelie with the twins, Enjolras with the boys, instructing them to wash and change before dinner.

"I can already feel the need for an escape to Ager," Enjolras said once he'd shut the door behind him. He shook his head, then looked around the room that had once been his, but had been completely redecorated days after he'd moved to Paris. The walls were cerulean, gilt-framed paintings as decor; his mother a collector of artwork and a hobbyist painter.

Already digging through her suitcase, Aurelie looked up at her husband. "Don't be ridiculous. We'll have a marvelous time over the next few days. Soak in your mother's sweetness and ignore your father's sternness. It's not as though you don't know him, so no offense should be taken. Besides, he's softened by our children."

"Just wait until we're alone with him tonight," Enjolras warned, finally walking over to his case to find fresh clothes. "He's never forgiven me for 1832 and he won't forgive me for this. Bonapartist through and through, that man."

Aurelie shrugged. "But they need to know since they're written into our will and testament," she said easily, an attempt to remain calm and cool so her attitude would be soaked in rather than adding to his incitement. "Understand that this is necessary for our children, not for you. Marius, Benoit, Theo; they'll all be with us, and while we have the kids going to Benoit after their godparents, it is your parents who are third and I'd like their permission for it."

There was a rap on the door, and Aurelie called out that the visitor was free to enter. One of the maids carried an enormous pitcher of water and bowed her head. "For you to wash up," she said, then crossed the room toward the bathroom and emptied it into a porcelain bowl. Her exit was hasty with eyes cast upon the floor.

Enjolras eyed Aurelie with a dull look. "Even their staff fears them."

With a laugh, Aurelie simply shrugged and walked into the bathroom to clean herself before supper.

Raimund sat at the head of the table, flanked by Odile and Enjolras. Following this pattern, the women were on one side, the men at the other for an extravagant dinner that marked the special occasion that was their arrival; an eight course meal with two courses of meat, partridge and beef roast, along with a yellowfin tuna that was sublime.

While children in this time were meant to be seen and not heard at such fancy occasions, this had never worked in the Enjolras household even when Enjolras himself had been a child at this very table. Though Raimund directed his questions at Enjolras and Aurelie, a proper gentleman of wealth and tradition, Odile made a point of asking the kids about their journey, and the children then regaled the table with tales of their schooling and free summer. Honore was the only one of the four who maintained proper posture and manners, always set on proving himself as a man instead of a child, and as a result, Raimund may have laughed along with Nico, Manon and Margot, but he was most interested in Honore.

It was also common in these days for the men and women to separate after a meal; the women retreating to a sitting room while the men stayed around the table to discuss things they didn't deem the women worthy of hearing, or thought may upset their delicate natures. Politics, laws, economy, even more violent things such as hunting and war.

Enjolras would have none of this as a general rule, unless it was deemed necessary with men of title and wealth at his own house, and only because he felt these other men's wives couldn't handle such talks, not because of Aurelie.

So when the suggestion that they take their walk was uttered from Odile, Enjolras rose first. "We all should," he said. "I could use a glass of brandy and the children are tired. Aurelie and I will see them up and then meet you in the sitting room."

He then gestured with his head at his family, and they politely rose, thanking the elder Enjolras' for the meal, then paraded from the dining room together.

Aurelie saw to it that the girls were changed and their clothes were folded so they would not wrinkle. After kissing their foreheads once they were in bed, she left the room.

She did not know that the moment she had shut the door, Manon relit the lantern and the girls began to play, but that is neither here nor there.

Enjolras told his sons the second they were in their room, "Tomorrow night, I promise the both of you can join us after dinner. You are both grown enough to do so, but tonight I believe it's best your mother and I follow what is proper. Ease them in, all right?"

He did not know that the moment he had shut the door, Honore said to Nico, "In ten minutes, I'll be sneaking down the stairs. Follow if you wish."

The Republican and the Bonapartist

After pouring a glass of brandy for his son, a glass of wine for each of the women, Raimund sat down in his leather armchair; no other seat in the beige room had felt his weight. Opening the little wooden box on the table beside the chair, he withdrew a cigar, then asked of Enjolras, "Care for one?"

"Not tonight," Enjolras said, and what he meant was not ever, though what he meant just now was not in front of Aurelie, as he figured that if he ended up alone with his father at any point, he should echo him for civility.

"You're missing out," Raimund responded, lighting his own with a match. He puffed it a few times. "Sent to me by a friend in the States. They import them from Cuba."

"Indeed," Enjolras said, and what he meant was I'm not interested, though what he meant just now was how progressive of you, father, as his father generally criticized what he called the radical thinking of the United States.

Odile smiled delightedly. "Alexandre said the two of you are planning to head to Ager?"

"We thought it might be nice to spend a bit of vacation on our own," Aurelie said pleasantly.

Noticing that Aurelie was juxtaposing his sour attitude, Enjolras sighed, making a firm decision to pull himself together, at least for appearance's sake. Thus, he flipped a switch and smiled at his mother, knowing there would be plenty of feigned pleasantries in due time, and it was unreasonable to sully the good before the bad.

"I hope you don't mind that I assumed it wouldn't put you out," Enjolras told his mother with endearment that was not feigned. "You were rather angry last year when I didn't bring the family."

"Oh, I was!" Odile cried with a laugh. "And we think it's lovely that we'll have the opportunity to take the children for a few days, don't we dear?"

Raimund, a man who was nearly impossible to evoke emotions from, smiled at his wife and Aurelie. "We were both delighted when it was suggested."

"You see?" Odile said, having rarely seen her husband this happy, going to show exactly how much her grandchildren meant to the both of them. She gestured to her husband. "The second he read of your plans he was coming up with ideas of how to spoil them."

Aurelie laughed, bringing a hand to her chest in delectation. "Spoil away," she assured Raimund. "They adore the both of you, and we can't get away with it as their parents, lest they take advantage of us."

Nodding firmly, Enjolras took a gulp of his brandy and shook his head in mocked annoyance. "They're certainly coming into their own, and be warned: their charm can manipulate you if you're not careful. It's astounding to me how much they're like their mother!"

"Me?" Aurelie cried, her laugh louder and playfully aghast. Enjolras' grin was wicked and amused. "I've no clue how you get these ideas in your head. Odile, kindly remind your son that he is the very last person who should speak of manipulating with charm."

"Such a strong word," Enjolras breathed teasingly, swilling his glass and raising a clever brow at his wife.

Odile chuckled as the all-knowing mother of such a man. "Or not strong enough."

"You see?" Aurelie said. "This is why your mother and I get along so well. We both know you in a way no one else ever could, so enough pinning their antics on me."

Through this, Raimund was smiling, however small. "I'll admit that Honore has me impressed. It's nice to hear him speak as an equal instead of a child. He'll be a fine man, as will Nico. You've tamed yourself, Alex. Of course you'd have to with a family."

With her eyes, Aurelie warned Enjolras to keep his mouth shut, and just in time; Enjolras' lips had slightly parted to respond, but he shut them with her look and inhaled deeply to find some repose.

But he did view his father's intentional jab as a transition, albeit earlier than he would have liked.

"While it's not the reason we came, I've brought some papers for you to look over," Enjolras said.

Aurelie tried to hide her sigh, but failed, and she turned her glance to the side, mentally preparing herself. She also took a large drink of her wine to assist in such preparation, hoping the alcohol would ease the internal tension.

Interest piqued, Raimund leaned forward in earnest. Business discussions always engrossed him, as did the law. He knew not which his son was bringing him, but it didn't matter. Either would keep him entertained.

But there was a heavy silence that followed until Aurelie finally looked Enjolras sternly in the eyes before she spoke up, and it had to take every ounce of effort for her to do so.

"Alex and I realized that should anything ever happen to us, arrangements need to be made for our family," she explained carefully, judging the atmosphere of the room with each word that exited her mouth.

"Very wise of you," Odile said, features drawn in seriousness and speculation. "But what does this have to do with us, if you don't mind me asking? Their godparents are the Pontmercy's, correct?

Unfairly, Enjolras was placing the burden of this conversation on Aurelie in hopes of keeping it civil, and she knew it, and she knew why, and she was not happy about it.

"They are," Aurelie said, carrying no tone whatsoever. "But for any sort of worst case scenario, it is best to have other plans in place. France has too many orphans from such worst cases, and we felt it necessary to take things a step further for assurances sake."

Peering at his son, Raimund studied Enjolras instead of Aurelie. "So they would come to us if the Pontmercy's are unable to take them?" he asked, not once allowing his clever gaze to wander.

"Because their home is Paris, they would go to my brother," Aurelie explained delicately, for she did not want them to think they were a last choice. They were, in fact, possibly the only chance her children would have, should this end badly.

Enjolras shook his head with an exasperated sigh. "Pontmercy's, Beaulieu's, then you," he stated, his tone austere. "They've grown up in Paris or it would be the other way around."

"Yes," Aurelie agreed hastily, and she meant it. While Marius and Cosette would be excellent parents, they had children of their own to care for. She viewed godparents more as guides than caregivers. "And we defer to them if they choose to send them to you instead—"

"Specifically, Marius Pontmercy is our executor of estate," Enjolras said calmly. "We have entrusted him to use his judgment, and he will follow the order we've determined."

"We are third," Raimund said under his breath.

Odile spoke up, her face reddened in embarrassment. "Oh, it does not matter that we're third!" she cried with a smile. "Of course we agree with this, just—"

"It's not the placement," Raimund said, his tone dull. Leaning forward, he placed his elbows on his knees, his gaze sharper than before. "Alexandre, why are you doing this now?"

She'd known it would come to this, and the sigh Aurelie made was one of defeat as she leaned back and positioned her arm on the rest of the sofa, then limply laid her chin upon the palm as she eyed Enjolras, her look clearly reading: Have at it.

"With the fragility of Paris, this should have been done long ago," Enjolras said, then rose from the chair and walked over to the fireplace.

His father, without a doubt, had read between the lines, and Enjolras was keenly aware of it. Thus he prepared himself mentally for the discussion by rapping his knuckles twice on the mantle as he waited for his father to place the pieces together.

"It seems to me that most who write a will name the godparents or the grandparents, but never have such foresight as to a second or third party," Raimund said, his tone still bland. Aurelie was limp in pose and noted listlessly that the two sounded so very much alike before tensions had risen in a discussion: statements of facts, no emotion whatsoever.

"I'll agree," Enjolras said. "Most don't have the foresight to name three caregivers. With the first two residing in Paris, we obviously wish them to stay in the city. That being said, should the city end up in conflict and the men of these families injured or worse, we require a place outside the limits so they will be safe."

Aurelie noticed how tensed Odile had become as her gaze fired rapidly between the two men, and she knew Odile still thought this was about them being the third choice and not Raimund's shrewd sense of what was really happening. For a fleeting moment, Aurelie thought she should step in to assure Odile that this, again, was not about a third choice; they would have been the first if they lived in Paris. But that was not where the argument was headed, Odile would find that out soon enough, and while Aurelie figured she should escort Odile from the room, she certainly wasn't about to leave as things heated. And so she returned to her apathy until she would have to step up and begin to care.

Rising from his chair, Raimund walked over to the bar and refilled his snifter. With his back toward the room, he asked, "Is Paris about to enter a conflict?"

The corner of Aurelie's mouth twitched up as she eyed her husband daringly, though he did not look at her. She felt almost amused by the pair, and if it was not such a grave discussion—if it was not so volatile—she might have chuckled. But the discussion was macabre and about to explode, so really there was no amusement to be had.

"Paris is always about to enter a conflict," Enjolras stated, as he was anything but a liar. "Any given day something somewhere erupts. Ask the masons from the lodge in the rue de Grenelle-Saint-Honore if they have ever boiled down since 1830 and they will tell you that the kettle still sings. Just weeks ago a riot broke out in the textile factories, before that it was in Austerlitz with the workers at the paper mill. Those on rue de la Mortellerie will regale you with the eight times they've raised a barricade since 1827. Tuileries has seen a barricade on every street and alley. Take a tour of such alleys and you will still find the rubble and cobblestones, as Paris has no time to clean up before the next. Rue Saint Denis now holds more citizens without a home than citizens in one, and such dwellings are so overcrowded I couldn't tell you how they have enough floor to stand upon should all the residents decide to enter the apartments at the same time. Refugees from conflicts in surrounding countries as far north as Poland search solace in Paris, arriving on any day to a brawl simply for being foreigners. I'd tell you to walk by the Marche-aux-Fleurs fountain to listen to the rallies, but they have hushed to whispers and the passing of illegal pamphlets from palm to palm now that public assembly has been banned. You call it conflict, I call it the brink of revolution, as conflicts are the daily repercussion of living in such a city in such a time. Our triptych; liberte, egalite, fraternite is muttered with secret handshakes. Our cens tax is one hundred francs, so I'd ask of you who ends up favored in our laws, as it is not those disenfranchised, when such men make up the population of this country. And I would follow asking you which men have the largest reason to rise for equality, for they out-populate those in power, and I include myself in that category, as I have a vote, yet still find no power whilst voting against the financial bourgeois."

Raimund had turned around in the middle of Enjolras' tirade, and when it was complete, the elder took a sip of his brandy.

"Have you finished?" he asked.

Enjolras exhaled a low chuckle. "I haven't even begun."

Aurelie's hooded eyelids began to flutter against a roll of her eyes.

"I wish you had gone with cholera, Alex," Raimund mused. "I could accept cholera as a reason three young men may be taken early from their families."

The shrug Enjolras gave was flippant. "Why lie when you'll find out soon enough?" he said mildly, and eyed his father with an air of disdain. "It won't be long before the newspapers thicken, and even then it will not be covering the full story. Stack the independent papers on top of the Nationale for the whole of it, and you'll find yourself staring at an entire tree."

"Aurelie, would you like to join me in the drawing room?" Odile asked desperately, already in motion out of her chair.

Muscles still lax, you would assume Aurelie was bored with the display. And in a way she was; this was exactly as she'd predicted, and this sort of conflict between Raimund and Enjolras was unavoidable whenever they were under the same roof. The only difference was this was an argument over action instead of hypothesis, which differentiated her boredom and transitioned it into a passive surrender.

"Aurelie stays, mother," Enjolras said firmly.

"Do not speak for me," Aurelie said, the opposite of firm. The words exited in an aghast chuckle, followed by a sigh. She rose from the couch and crossed the room to stand by her husband. "No, Odile. I'll not insult you by suggesting you retire, but I am staying here because I stand beside him."

The corner of Enjolras' mouth twitched in pride, furthering his determination with Aurelie at his side. It did not turn into a smile, as he was too indignant to feel glad for any reason, but his heart always swelled when she backed him and he'd feel the proof of it in his lips even though those around him could not see the infinitesimal flutter of facial muscles.

"This is preposterous," Raimund railed, now enraged by the sight of seeing Aurelie willingly supporting his son and advocating a revolution. "You are honestly encouraging him to rise against our sovereign the king?"

Aurelie tossed her shoulders back.

"Your sovereign, the king," she stated stolidly, emphasizing the ownership.

Odile blanched and, in a daze, she rose from her chair. "Yes, I believe I'll bid you good night," she said, her gaze in the unfocused nether. "Breakfast will be served at eight. Sleep well."

With that, the weakened woman exited the room.

Raimund stared at his glass with a cruel grin, swilled it twice.

"I always knew you were a problem," Raimund said quietly. Enjolras was stunned to stupidity as his father looked at his wife and shook his head. "You are too fiery to be a good wife, instead riling up your husband to commit treason."

Outraged, Enjolras positioned himself in front of Aurelie protectively. "You dare say such a thing again and I will walk from this house never to return."

Aurelie, however, kept a cool head, and placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him. "It's fine, my love," she said with a placating tone. "Raimund, I assure you such a thing will not happen. We should speak freely. Perhaps I am a problem, as I am not mild nor meek, not shallow nor naïve. If it is a problem for a woman to be analytical and political, then I am glad to call myself a problem. Our country needs problems, for if all men were meek and mild, this nation would get away with murdering its own citizens, which I believe is done both directly and indirectly. Ignoring the plights of the poor is tantamount to murder and it should stand trial, the public serving as jury and, if necessary, executioner."

"It is not the place of a woman to involve herself in politics," Raimund challenged.

"Have yourself a daughter and say the same," Aurelie responded.

"Don't be foolish," Raimund said, then cast his eyes on his son. "I'd keep my daughter as far away from this garbage as possible, as should you. Our job as men is to protect our women from such dangers!"

Enjolras blew out a huff of air through lax cheeks. "I protect them fiercely," he said. His inhale was one of anger at himself, however. It was all too reminiscent of his failures in 1832. Yes, he had protected Aurelie, as much as she would allow anyways, but he had not abided to his duty as a man with a family. And there was suddenly a nagging voice that told him he was not abiding to it now. Nonetheless, Enjolras was a man who could rally quickly, and he continued. "Despite what should be, my family is an echo of myself. I chose a woman who was my equal, if not a far better man than I, as anything less could not even begin to interest me. It is her who has kept me alive, for without her and our children I would already be dead from some battle at any of the eight barricades in the last fifteen years."

"And so this is your plan, then?" Raimund said through his teeth. "You are raising barricades together?"

Eying him levelly and through low brows, Enjolras said, "We are."

Aurelie shuddered involuntarily. She'd known, but it had not been said. Not once had they acknowledged their end game, they had only spoken with abstract value; the umbrella of the word 'revolution' all-encompassing a fight, but it had willfully gone without any sort of design in Aurelie's eyes. Banquets were a step, Aurelie had refused to look beyond them, instead recognizing she may die and planning for such an event, but refusing to paint the picture of how.

Raimund paced back and forth, twice. His face was ruddy, his fingers on his left hand rapidly opening and closing from splayed to fists. In his right, the glass quaked.

"Marius Pontmercy," he muttered under his breath, then eyed Aurelie. "Your brother, the Baron Beaulieu—" this said with such distaste that a man of title would take part of such a thing "—will fight at your side. And where will you be, Aurelie?"

It was hard to swallow through the prominent lump in her throat, and Aurelie steadied herself as she tried to work her saliva down.

"Atop a barricade with a musket."

Because the word barricade had not been uttered by either, hearing Aurelie say this weakened Enjolras. He too had not yet designed the inevitable future day when barricades would be constructed throughout Paris, allowing the word 'revolution' to remain nondescript. Perhaps he had romanticized her involvement to what they'd once thought it would be; an image of them hand in hand against the government. It was a lovely picture, but a horrifying reality should it come to fruition.

"And this is why you fear for your children's future," Raimund spat. "If you lose, you will all go, hence the necessity for a third to take them in."

Repose was hard to grasp.

"Correct," Enjolras said, despite the cliff he was teetering upon.

Raimund finally stopped pacing and pointed firmly at the ground. "I will not allow it!" he screamed. "I will not walk through Pere Lachaise searching for the dead bodies of my son and daughter-in-law!"

And it dawned on Enjolras. Suddenly he was overwhelmed. This was not the first time his father had yelled at him; he'd had plenty of moments growing up where his father would turn red and use this booming voice that would echo through the house. His father was a strict, stern man who had expected Enjolras to follow in his footsteps, and while Enjolras had indeed become a lawyer, he had also been molded into a republican, a far stretch from his bonapartist patriarch. Because of this, even as an adult his father would become so riled by their discussions that he would yell, and Enjolras would simply laugh because anytime a person had lost their end of a debate, they would become flustered, masking it with anger. Not once in Enjolras' life had his father told him he was proud of him. Enjolras would become acutely aware of his father's displeasure when he made a mistake, it was when he achieved perfection that he would be met with silence, and in this silence he would know he had done well. This was different.

This was the first time in his life he realized that his father loved him.

He was suddenly touched, despite how macabre it was.

"Father," Enjolras said quietly, then took a step forward with his hands out in the way one assures another they're not dangerous. "It will not come to that. Not this time. We are older and wiser. We are no longer reckless. We are only planning for the worst possible outcome, a necessity of fatality regardless of any sort of uprising." He then gestured to his father's brown leather chair. "Will you please sit? Aurelie and I will tell you why this is different."

The elder Enjolras heaved in a deep breath, turned to the brandy and filled his glass to the brim, then held the bottle up as a peace offering. Enjolras joined his side, allowed his father to fill his glass, then refilled Aurelie's wine.

As the couple sat down on the sofa directly across from the patriarch, Raimund opened his cigar case, retrieving one.

Enjolras smiled, leaning forward and holding out his hand.

"I think I'll join you this time."

A Home is not a Home Without Family

After four days spent alone in Ager, Aurelie and Enjolras returned to Foulayronnes to find their children had indeed been spoiled rotten. His parents had taken them to a market where they enjoyed a travelling show of puppets, were each purchased gifts of their choosing from the merchants, fed sweets until dinner and played games with the elders into the night. They had spent the second day at a park, the third Odile had taught the girls to knit while Raimund taught the boys to carve. On the fourth, the children were given canvases to paint upon and Raimund had read stories while they worked.

No one wanted to leave, not even Enjolras. The night they had fought had ended hours later as Enjolras explained why this showed so much promise; the bourgeois were in it this time, which proved exactly how high tensions had risen in the capitol. Raimund actually listened, though debated the laws and politics he took issue with, as he remained steadfast as a royalist bonapartist. As with every debate, tempers would flare, but they settled quickly and the night had ended on good terms. Raimund had said before they retired: "Though we disagree on nearly everything, if this is the path our country must travel, it is worth finding out its destination." He had then added with a hand on his son's shoulder: "Such an argument is inevitable with us, but know this: if any man should lead the way, I see no one more fit to steer the vessel."

Aurelie did not make it to her room without tears streaming down her cheeks. Enjolras managed to, but the second he was in the door, he embraced her and they fell freely.

Lavaur proved to be a melancholy affair. They had been welcomed as guests by the Viscount Louis de Vimeur in Aurelie's childhood home; a warm man of sixty years who had been given her family's estate after it had been ripped from her father. His son, Pierre-Rene, had once been presented to Aurelie when she was but seventeen, and the two took a nice long walk through the estate's gardens the afternoon of their arrival to talk of such days while Enjolras entertained his wife, Catherine.

"Ah, beautiful Aurelie," Pierre-Rene said through a sigh of endearment after Aurelie had finished telling him of her children, having been walking for over a half hour. He turned to face her and placed both hands on her arms, then brushed them down as he looked her over. "It pleases me greatly to see that you are so happy. My memory of you is one of beauty, yet I see you again and am still stunned by how you shine."

"You shine quite well yourself," Aurelie said, admiring the handsome man.

Pierre-Rene rose a full head taller than she, and atop were straight wisps of black hair that held a few silvers, though had receded not one bit. He was the life she would have had, as Pierre-Rene had been the closest any of her suitors had come to a promise of union by their parents. He was the only one of the many paraded around that she had felt she would have been happy with, that she could have perhaps grown to love, but still, in their many visits over the course of six months, she had not once felt he was who she was destined to be with. And she had been right.

His laugh was exactly as she remembered as well; joyous and infectious. "I am a content man, and I have a wonderful family. When your father declined me permission to marry you, I thought myself quite broken, you know. It took four years of meeting families with title to find a wife, as I'd have none of them. Poor Catherine! Initially I just settled, but I've grown to truly love her."

"She's magnificent, from what I can tell," Aurelie said, though they had only talked as a group for an hour after their initial arrival, and most of the discussion had been led by the viscount. "I'm looking forward to getting to know her over dinner."

"Your husband seems like a fine man," Pierre-Rene said. "Very handsome," he added with a chuckle, then touched her arm once more as concern crossed his features. "Assure me he takes good care of you, Aurelie, as I cannot stand the thought of you ever unhappy for even just one minute of your life."

A long moment passed between the two; Pierre-Rene's eyes searching hers urgently, Aurelie reflecting on the image that could have been. Had she not felt her compass pointing north, perhaps this handsome man would have been the father of her children and she would once again live in this house, the wife of a viscount, and a pensive smile crossed her features.

She wanted none of it.

Wetting her lips, Aurelie leaned in and gently kissed Pierre-Rene's cheek. "You are very sweet," she said, looking into his deep chocolate colored eyes. "You're a wonderful man, and I would have been very happy with you, Pierre. When you have some time alone with him, your concern will be quelled and you will understand why you and I did not marry. You will fall in love with him as I did."

Chin in neck, a quick tilt of the head, Pierre raised a brow as he smiled. "That takes care of that," he said, blinking twice. "I'm glad to hear I won't stand trial for injuring a man anytime soon." He then held his arm out. "To the arbors?"

Sliding her hand in the nook, Aurelie's grin showed off her magnificent white teeth. "To the arbors!" she cried as a general would command a troop. And off they marched.

That evening, Aurelie kept an eye on Enjolras and Pierre-Rene while talking to Catherine, and she could not help but swell with pride and love upon seeing how Pierre's eyes would sparkle as Enjolras spoke; how Pierre would consistently inch forward on the red velvet chair in earnest as they talked, and how he would laugh animatedly with his head tossed back over whatever her husband was saying. And at one point, a moment passed between Pierre-Rene and Aurelie, Pierre saying clearly: You were correct, he rightfully won, I'm happy for you.

Aurelie was thrilled her children were able to play in the gardens with the youngest Vimeurs, and she spent an afternoon showing Enjolras around the massive landscape, sharing stories in certain locations:

Beneath a large oak tree in the northern corner of the land, so large its arms stretched up to the sky and provided enough shade to fully engulf the area on a hot summer day, Aurelie said: "I was so often presented with suitors that when my family left us alone, I would find a reason to excuse myself. I'd run here with a book, leaving the poor sap by himself. I'm not exaggerating when I tell you that search parties would be organized when I wouldn't show up for dinner, too enthralled in literature than in these men."

Enjolras had responded: "I pity them; they were no doubt left shattered by you, and I benefitted from their loss."

In a maze of roses that had not seen much pruning, gnarled in twists on trellises that created a hex pattern if viewed from above, Aurelie said: "My mother would have hated to see these roses untended, for before her death, we would work this garden together. She taught me how to prune them, the meticulous work necessary for them to thrive, and once said: A rose is like a child; if you care for it properly, it will blossom into beauty."

Enjolras had responded: "And the rose did not just blossom into beauty, it achieved God's perfection."

At a large fountain in the courtyard, Aurelie sat down on the edge and let her fingers dance along the surface of the water, reveling in the ripples she could create against the tension of flow. She said: "Benoit pushed me in here when I was eleven after I embarrassed him. He had been walking home with a girl his age and I had taunted them, dancing in front of the pair and mocking their blossoming love. The poor girl ran off long before our gate, and in front of this fountain, I had said: Brother, you'll never have such a swan, you'll be lucky to have a crow. He grew red, said something of how I'd be better off learning how a swan lives, as he was too outraged for me to distinguish the words, then shoved me over the edge."

Enjolras had responded: "I believe he was right. The water must have baptized you as such, as that is exactly what you are."

In the stables, Aurelie relished in the air that smelled of stale hay and manure, as it was a smell of her childhood. Placing a hand on the deteriorated wooden posts that were long overdue for replacement, she said: "I would have my horse saddled by a stable boy named Gilles, and rode more often during his tenure because I found him sublime to look upon. He was twenty when I was fifteen, and one afternoon when I'd returned from a ride, I kissed him. He was so surprised that he stumbled backwards and, subsequently, over the gate there. He ended up covered in manure and I ran off, leaving him in this horrible sludge. I have no idea what became of him, as the following day he had turned in his resignation."

Enjolras had responded: "He likely thought you unobtainable. Now let me give you a more powerful memory so the next time we are here, you can share the story of today instead of one with a stable boy."

Taking Enjolras to the top of a great rise, an unnatural looking mound on the property, Aurelie gazed down upon the small town and admired how it had grown. She said: "The romantic in me would climb up this hill so I could feel the wind whipping through my hair and blowing my dress. I loved how I could see the land and I felt as though I was queen of the world. I imagined what I would look like in a painting here, obviously quite vain now that I think about it."

Enjolras had responded: "You were quite right, though no artist could paint the beauty I see before me atop this hill. Because it would pale in comparison, the image now would be spoiled. I prefer to retain it in my memory."

At a table just outside the banquet hall, Aurelie sat down and placed her palms on the wrought iron, feeling the grooves of the filigreed metal. She said: "My father taught me of the world here. He would recite quotes from great men and explain exactly why these men were so great. I learned of all the thinkers our world has produced and admired them. However, to me, he was the greatest of all the men he quoted, yet I look upon you and find it only appropriate that you sit here as the greatest thinker of them all."

Enjolras had found no way to respond, so he took her hand and helped her rise from the table. He had then planted a yearning kiss upon her lips, having been so overcome that she would say such a thing that no words could suffice to express how she had moved his heart and soul.

It was the nights that Aurelie suffered, sleeping in a guestroom instead of the room she had grown in from birth to age twenty. But as she would lay in this bed, she would suddenly become serene as she would realize that this was but a dwelling, and without her family, the one she'd once had and the one she had now, this place meant little. It was no longer a home. There was nothing more than sentimental memories. Now it was just a roof over her head.

As to not overstay their welcome, they spent only three days in the estate that Aurelie had once felt she would never leave. She was so grateful the Vimeur's had been such gracious hosts and it had been rather nice to see how their lives had progressed, as she hadn't seen the family since they'd departed once Aurelie's father had declined an engagement between her and Pierre-Rene. And after everyone expressed their regret that more time had not been shared, the family departed for Marseille on the coast.

The Significance of Stones

Of the stops during this family vacation, it was Marseille that Aurelie and Enjolras truly felt this trip was a holiday to be remembered. They had rented a quaint house on the beach that rarely saw the wealthy owner, who had his own large mansion a few kilometers down. While it was small, it had exactly three bedrooms, which was all they needed. It was a bit rundown; loose boards allowing the breeze of the ocean to pass through gaps and into the dwelling, which served as a relief from the hot sun instead of torturing them with the cold had they visited in any other season.

They had arrived late and slept deeply their first night, beaten down by the full day of travel after Enjolras had forced them to push onward instead of spending yet another night at an inn along the way. When Aurelie awoke in Enjolras' arms to the sunbeams shining their warmth through the tattered curtains, she felt true bliss. Furthermore, removed from Paris, the tension of visiting Enjolras' parents and awkwardness of the stop in Lavaur behind her, she had entered a heaven where time could pause for a week or so. Nothing to do but relax without a care in the world. There was no revolution to worry about, and she would not allow it to enter her thoughts, as this would be the last time her shoulders would feel free of a burden.

This morning, all that existed in the world was her family. This was what freedom should feel like, and someday, perhaps she'd be so fortuitous to feel it once more, even luckier if she could feel it in her own home in a new Paris that offered such.

After breakfast at a café in the city, they decided to spend the day walking the beach. The children played in the surf while Aurelie and Enjolras walked hand in hand, and it was times like these that they had no idea how they talked of anything else before their children had been born. Not one word of politics or government or the state of the world was uttered by either. Their conversations, instead, revolved around their family; breaking into laughter when Nico fell into the water, soaked like a dog in the rain. Smiling as Honore studied the kelp and rocks, then tossed them to whence they came. Manon and Margot began a collection of seashells that were kept safe in their skirts until Margot was knocked into by Honore, causing her cache to spill into the sand, which had her yelling after him, demanding that he help her retrieve them.

What neither knew was that a storm was brewing inside of Honore.

The conversation at his grandparent's had been overheard by both him and Nico, and when they were alone together, Honore spent the majority of his time assuring his little brother that there was nothing to fear, necessary to soothe his younger brother's despair. Nico was softer; more fragile, and he had done nothing but ask Honore questions with glistening eyes ever since.

Thus Honore had to push his own anxiety aside to care for the boy, regretting that he had allowed Nico to follow him downstairs to eavesdrop that night.

The horrors of a revolution were never shied away from, and he was born and raised as a revolutionary; a copy of his father, and his mother, of course. Still, revolution was romanticized in this family, and strong as Honore was, he was also a boy of fourteen. Even a boy of eighteen would feel the fear for his parents serving as generals for a war. Even a man of thirty-seven had a lot to fear; Enjolras accepted it inside himself.

But Enjolras was not aware Honore had heard the heated discussion they'd had with his father, and Honore, afraid for his parents, felt more fear to address such a topic with them.

And so he stewed. Took care of Nico, hid it all from his sisters, waiting for a time to bring it up if he would confront it at all.

It was their last afternoon on the beach in Marseilles that Honore sat upon a piece of driftwood, picking up shore-polished stones and mindlessly tossing them at random into the sand, finally ready to ask his questions.

It was not to his father he brought them to.

"Father brought me to Saint-Michel," he said abruptly; at least it felt abrupt to Aurelie, who froze beside her son, her gaze ripped from Enjolras, Nico and the twins, Honore now receiving her full attention.

She had not known this had happened. And it surprised her; Enjolras was not one to keep secrets from her. There was a flash of anger that this had not been brought to her attention before, but concern for Honore overshadowed any irritation she felt. Furthermore, she had hoped such a thing would be done together, but she recognized the bonding of father and son in such a place. This would, however, be addressed later with Enjolras, as it was not something he should have kept from her.

Steadying herself so her tone would remain calm and not give away that she was taken off-guard, Aurelie peered at her son, who had not looked at her as of yet. Instead, he bent down to pick up a gently ridged pebble, amethyst in color, with streaks of silver laced through it. A mere glance at the stone and it was flung away again.

"And what did you think of it?" she asked plainly, relieved she carried no tone.

Honore's fingers pinched a small, orange stone that he took a second to study before tossing it out and searching the sand for another. "It is a horrible place. The pavement alone looks sickly, which only enhances how ill those on the street must be. Buildings are in desperate need of repair, tents litter the sidewalks. Everyone mills about without purpose, begging for a single sou, which gives them nothing more than the hope they'll receive twenty more for a hot meal. Everything is gray, colors seem to lose their luster, women are dirty, men dirtier. And yet it is the most important place in Paris to me."

Reaching down, Aurelie located a rock to hand to her son—larger and more rounded, much like toffee—this, in a strange way, a sort of offering: I am listening, I am a part of this. He looked at her with a crooked smile as he plucked it from her palm, and she was glad to have caught his eyes to assuage her fears that he may be wrestling with what he had seen. She had noted trepidation, but not devastation. And in this, she was looking upon a young man, no longer a child.

Such is the moment every mother dreads; the day she sees her son is no longer a boy. Yet he still threw rocks, so he wasn't gone yet. He still needed his mother.

"He showed me where the barricades were," Honore continued. "We went into the café. I saw where he planned. We discussed Gavroche and I could see it as I looked out the window. I saw where you hid and I saw where father was shot. Was it terrible?"

Aurelie nodded. "There has been nothing in my life as terrible as that," she responded, recalling those final minutes in vivid detail.

Pursing his lips to the side, Honore launched right into what was troubling him. The caramel stone skittered away.

"Then why are you doing it again?"

Aurelie was taken aback, so much so that she literally backed away on the log so she could look at him fully and not just into his eyes. It took a second for her to rally, which was a must. Honore could not be allowed to see that this question made her uneasy.

"Well, that's a simple question with a complex answer," Aurelie said honestly, stalling so she could sift through her thoughts. "But can I ask you a question before I explain it?"

Honore swallowed. Straightened. He then nodded.

"Does it bother you that we are?"

Taking a moment to think this through, Honore decided to look for another stone. When he found one, instead of throwing it, he held it in an open fist and began to shake it. It was sharp on every edge and a stormy blue in color. As it shook, there seemed to be a small storm cloud rolling and boiling within it.

"It bothers me that you are," he finally said.

"Why?"

Another moment, another few shakes.

"Knowing what I know of 1832, I'd think you would never put yourself through it again," he finally said, then thought for another minute. "It's not because you're a woman. I know what you did. I know you fought, I know you killed. I also understand the necessity. I believe we should fight—" Aurelie winced at the we "—but I worry for you, mother."

This nearly broke Aurelie's heart.

"You should not worry for me, Honore," Aurelie said, wanting to embrace him as a child while recognizing that she could not embrace him as a man. But the motherly instinct to protect her child and soothe his fears was present, and she so wished she could keep him young and innocent. Sadly, Honore had never been young. "And I thank you for the compliment, intentional or unintentional, of believing in my strength as to not view me as a woman like others. Which is where I answer your question, Honore.

"We are doing this together because I am unlike other women," she continued after a deep breath. "In visiting Lavaur, you saw what I ran from. I could have been a proper woman with a title, but I wanted none of it. And the night I entered Paris, I fell in love with your father. He was the opposite of what was expected of me, and the mirror of what I had always been. I should explain a few things.

"It is hard for all women to send someone they love to war, and I am not immune to this. After having been through it; after seeing him shot and believing him dead, you're right to question why I would put myself through such a thing again. I will not hide from you that it scares me very much, and this is a secret I share with only you, as I don't even share the extent of it with your father. Further, outside of him, no one believes I have any fear at all." She chuckled to keep the conversation lighter than it was, and with a self-deprecating smile, she added, "So please, keep my secret safe."

Her smile went returned, Honore taking this seriously. "I won't tell anyone."

"But why do it again?" Aurelie asked with a raise of her brow. "We do it out of necessity for you, Honore. For your brother and sisters and every other child in our country. If a generation cannot leave the next a better world than they found it, then they have failed and served no purpose at all."

"Still, that's not what I'm asking," Honore said. "Why are you doing it?"

"Because I believe in it," Aurelie said without hesitation. "So firmly that it feels larger than my being. My aim is to not only protect you, it's to give you the world, as you deserve."

Honore was not satisfied. "I know you do," he said, feeling frustrated. "I've talked of such politics my entire life because of you. But great men are taking care of it! Why join them when you can be safe?"

Biting her lip, Aurelie peered at her son. She felt she had gripped his question now, and answered, "You're afraid for me."

In all honesty, Honore didn't know if that's what it was. Perhaps he was afraid for his mother, as he was, of course, for his father. The thought of their death made him feel dizzy. But he shook his head. That still wasn't the whole of it.

"I am," he admitted. "I'm not even sure what I'm asking, or rather, I'm not sure what answer will suffice, as I feel it's still not good enough, which means my question isn't getting through. I guess it's more a question linked to the past. Should history repeat itself, why would you ever put yourself in a closet again?"

This was firmly grasped, and Aurelie's eyes were opened. Her son knew of her vehemence and her beliefs, her answers had been nothing he hadn't heard before. And she finally knew the only answer that would suffice for the question even he did not understand.

"Because I will not sit at home," she stated firmly. The answer to his question was the same resolve she had made on June 5th. "And I will not hide in a closet. If he is to fight, I refuse to wonder. We are equals, and I will not allow him to die behind my back, should it come to that. I will not allow the news to be delivered to me as I wring my hands at home, helpless. I fight with him so we protect the other, which makes us a force to be reckoned with. And with our determination, we will be untouchable together."

Honore's smile was tight-lipped, approving of this answer. Inhaling deeply through his nostrils, he shook the rock a few more times, then held it out. The storm within it was at last settling.

"Here," he said.

A chuckle escaped Aurelie and she raised a brow.

"Why?"

He shrugged. "No real reason," he said. "Throw it or keep it. It's yours to do with as you wish."

Moments like these reminded Aurelie how lucky she was to have such a child; to have such a family. She did not take it, however. Instead she searched, finally locating a white rock. The weight felt good in her hand, the color pure, the shape pleasing to the eye, and she held it up between her thumb and forefinger.

"A trade?"

A nod was received, and the rocks were exchanged.

Neither were thrown, instead they were pocketed for another day.