Eponine's thoughts are rather sophisticated for a five-year-old; that's how old she is supposed to be in this fic. The reason that I chose for her to think this way is because I see her as being an outstandingly precocious child... Most people will probably disagree with me, but the way that she responds to things as an older teenager tells me that (1) she's not playing with a full deck, but (2) at one time, she was, and with more than just a "full deck." Most of why I think this is based on the way that Azelma responds to things; she acts pretty much braindead at times, and Eponine has lived in the same circumstances as she has. But I still want Eponine to seem to be a five-year-old... Please comment on this...

On with the fic!

PROMISE

I reached down to where she was scrubbing the floor. Azelma was watching me. I wanted her to be impressed, and I wanted to hurt Toad. She'd touched my doll- there was a muddy handprint on her little blue skirt- and she'd pay.

My left hand curled in her hair and pulled her head backwards so that her right temple touched my knee. She made an ugly face but did not cry out. I didn't like that, so I used my other foot to place a kick in the small of her back.

She made a noise somewhere between a sob and a shout.

That was good enough. For the time being, but not for long.

"'Zelma! C'mere! Bring me what you caught!" I yelled. Azelma came, her hands carrying a small pewter cup with a piece of paper covering the rim. She handed it to me, and I shook it, pleased to hear the sound of something scuttling about inside. Azelma now held on to the back of the Toad's neck. Even though Azelma was younger than the Toad, she was a bit bigger, and much stronger.

"Are you hungry?" I asked the Toad. She trembled. "I asked you a question," I said in my best schoolteacher voice. "Are. You. Hungry." She nodded dumbly, tears beginning to streak down her cheeks. "Well. I have something for you." I held out the cup and whipped the paper away, forcing the cup towards her lips. She shrieked, her eyes crossed to look into the cup where a large cockroach sat. Azelma held her head still, and I forced her jaw open, putting the rim of the cup on her bottom lip, tilting it so that our find would run into her mouth. I angled my head so that I could see into the cup. It was going in! Until-

A pale hand knocked the cup from my grasp, sending our roach flying across the floor. The cup rolled away, clattering loudly.

I looked up to see who had wrecked our game, and felt my eyes widen. I didn't mean for them to get so big; it just happened. There was a boy standing in front of us. His face looked odd; I could see in it a mixture of disbelief and anger. In fact, he looked really angry. His expression, however, was not what held me in my tracks. There was something about him... He seemed to be an angel. He looked like one, like how maman said they looked.

Toad looked at him, her dumb little face slackened. I looked between the two for a moment and then focused my attention on the boy again. He seemed to be in his young teenage years; he was twelve, maybe. Or he could have been as old as fourteen.

His voice was young, like a girl's, but deep, as well, somehow. He sounded almost regal when he spoke. "Exactly what was your reason for that?" Azelma shrugged and scuffed her shoe against the floor. I shrugged, too.

"Mind your own business."

He raised an eyebrow at me, but ignored what I said, kneeling by Toad and taking her hands. "Are you alright?" She looked at him fearfully. He looked up at me. He looked even more angry, and even scarier than he had been. "Apologize."

I shook my head. What right did he have to tell me what to do? He looked straight into my eyes, then. "Apologize." I looked at those blue eyes of his and gulped. He was too scary.

I looked down at Toad. "'M sorry," I muttered.

He turned to Azelma. "And you."

"Sorry."

He turned back to Toad and looked at her face with an odd look. The look reminded me of the time that I'd looked into a well that was so deep that I couldn't see the bottom. "I imagine that you're here working off a debt from your parents or something of the sort. They'd call you a servant, or even a slave." He shot me a glare. I dropped my gaze to the ground and refused to look at him, but I could almost feel his eyes burning into me. I squirmed a little bit, because his eyes made me feel bad. "And you are. You are a slave, a slave bought by society." Toad looked at him, her face as blank as a clean piece of paper. "You won't always be," he said softly. He wasn't whispering, but I had to strain to hear what he was saying. "You will be free, someday. You will be an equal member of society." He glanced at me; I could see his outline out of the corner of my eye. "You will not always live in hell. I will liberate you; this I swear." He paused. "Or I will die trying."

"Are you coming?" A voice sounded from across the room. He turned his head to look at a slightly older boy with brown hair that had been calling to him.

"In a moment, Combeferre."

He turned back to Toad. "I swear this." He then rose and joined the other boy his shoulders squared. I can read people, I can. And I could read that he had just been changed forever.