I am really sorry, Readers. Flames are welcome. Me is Euphrasies's mum. For those of you who stuck with Michel to the end, I salute you. VIVE LA FRANCE! LONG LIVE THE FUTURE!
Enjolras' pov
I was dragged down the walk. I thought I felt strength returning, but when I tried to stand up, nothing happened. One thing did change. I felt stronger, mentally. They had broken me, I was sure. But now I was being put back together.
Looking at the guard holding my left arm, I saw that he couldn't have been any older than myself. I felt an intense hatred, mixed with a curious pity. If only he had been on our side, he might be dead now, but have died for the freedom of his country. The national Guard might fight for the king of France. But I had fought for the true France, not the king.
I looked solidly at the guillotine atop the scaffold. Even from a distance, it was very visible. A crowd of people was gathered. To watch me be killed. As I was dragged through, they made way. Most of the crowd refused to meet my eyes, but a few of them did. One person, a young kid Gavroche's age, saluted. That made me smile. I quickly sobered, though, as the scaffold's shadow loomed over me.
It was probably ten feet high, but seemed like ten hundred. Fifty feet away.
Twenty.
Ten.
Five.
I was stepping onto the scaffold.
The noise of the crowd was muted. I did not hear anything except my heart. It was pounding. My guards threw me down on the top of it. I lay there as the young officer made a speech.
"People of France! Subjects of His Majesty! Do you see this man? He was a fool and a traitor! Led and fooled by him, over thirty of your young men perished, perished to overthrow the government! Do you remember what became of France the last time this happened? The Reign of Terror! This man, a revolutionist and a coward, is here before you to serve as an example of what happens to fools and rebels. Let this be a lesson to you! Here, the last surviving member of the revolution, Michel Enjolras."
I heard my name, and then there was a scream. Not from me. From the crowd. A girl's slightly husky voice, screaming, "NO!" I recognized it. Éponine.
I summoned all my will. The guards were pulling me up. I had no strength to stop them, but, as loud as I could, I yelled, "VIVE LA FRANCE! LONG LIVE THE FUTURE!"
And then…someone darted past them, ran onto the scaffold and into me, embracing me tightly. She was sobbing into my shirt, even though it was dirty.
I looked down. It was Eponine. She looked up at me, crying. Suddenly, she leaned up and kissed me. Hard. She kept at it, holding me and kissing me. I didn't know what was happening. It was…nice. I had minutes if not seconds to live. I kissed her back. And it was like nothing else mattered. Me, Eponine, and the revolution. That's all that mattered.
Then it was over. A guard yanked Eponine back, and she said, still crying, "Je t'aime! Je t'aime, Michel Enjolras!"
I was forced into the guillotine.
The bells began to toll ten. Then it all ceased.