One more for you all! Once again, thanks for reading! Everyone's awesome! We're reaching the end of this time period, so brace yourself for another jump. enjoy!
XXVII: Princesses and Promises
The Thénardiers were disgusting people. The inn was constantly full of degenerates, wasted men with food smeared over their faces and clothes, women little more than whores beckoning with a finger and a wink. Monsieur Thénardier was skilled in sleight of hand, Aimée would watch him slip the rings off fingers and pull out bank notes from pockets as if it was his God-given call to do so. He spent a lot of time during the day held up in an office with Gérard, the two bent over papers and snickering over gold.
Aimée had been put to work, sewing, waitressing…whatever Madame Thénardier decided to call her to do. Mostly, she was spending her day taking care of little Éponine. Every now and then the little girl would get attention from her mother, a kiss on the cheek or a whisper of love, but mostly the child spent a lot of time in her room, playing with dolls or singing songs.
On the second night with the Thénardiers, Aimée wandered her way outside to the surrounding woods. There, out in the darkness and away from the reek of piss and booze, Aimée would breathe, her eyes closed and her back pressed against the bark of a tree. Tears of frustration pricked at her eyes and she bit the inside of her cheek, craning her head back and feeling the bark of the tree grip at her braid. Stars above watched her and twinkled down, oblivious to her angst.
Wiping one of her eyes, Aimée realized how unfair it was. She couldn't run away, she didn't even know what town she was in and her pockets were bare, no money. The road was a dangerous place, full of thieves and rapists. Besides, she had no idea where Montreuil was. South? East? North?
Javert…. Her heart reacted with another yanking twist when his name filled her head. The fingers of her hand pressed to her lips and she clenched her eyes shut. Eyebrows furrowed together from pain and Aimée felt her shoulders hunch forward. She could still taste him in her mouth, still smell him in the air. Hugging herself, she tried to create the warmth from his body.
"Aimée, what are you doing?" the little chiming voice asked, finding her in the dark.
Aimée's head snapped up and she tried to wipe her eyes away from little Éponine as the girl neared her. "Nothing, Éponine. You should be inside."
"I don't want to go inside," the little girl said, her eyes almost black in the darkness. She kicked at some dirt with a small shoe. "I don't like it there."
Sighing, Aimée walked over and heaved Éponine up in her arms. This was not her child. In fact, it was the child of two people she was quickly growing to hate, but she felt some sort of obligation to be there for her. Give her some love and comfort that the child lacked. Éponine reminded Aimée of herself, Gérard cruel behind closed doors but once pleasant for others.
"I'm sorry, 'Ponine," Aimée sighed, swinging the little girl upwards then setting her back down on the ground. When she smiled, she looked like a little, brown-haired angle.
"Tell me a story," the child begged, grabbing Aimée's skirts in her little fists.
"A story?"
"Yes!"
"Alright, come here, to this stump," Aimée said, taking Éponine's hand in her own and sitting down on the large tree stump. The child crawled up in her lap and watched her, waiting expectantly.
"Once upon a time there was a princess," Aimée began, wrapping her arms around 'Ponine and looking up at the stars. "She had blonde hair like spun gold and skin as perfect as marble."
"Like you!" Éponine squealed, putting her small, warm hands on the sides of Aimée's face, pushing her cheeks together and giggling.
"My hair's a dusty gold, not nearly shiny enough for our princess," Aimée said, laughing when Éponine took her hands away. "Anyway, this princess lived in a big, big castle with her father, the king. She was very lonely, no friends or family to spend time with her in the big empty hallways and rooms."
"So she was sad?"
"Yes, sweet, the princess was very sad. Her father was a mean man, always ignoring her and yelling. One day, our princess left the castle to go to the village. She loved seeing the stable boy pet the horses and the baker putting sweets in the windows."
"Like strawberry cakes?" Éponine asked intently, swinging her feet in Aimée's lap.
"Yes, 'Ponine, and chocolate cakes, lemon, vanilla, every cake you could imagine! Anyway, the princess's feet had grown tired, so she sat at the fountain to let her feet rest. She took her shoes off to put her toes in the water and a thief ran by and took them! The princess screamed and then she watched as a knight rode by on a big black horse and grabbed the thief up off the road!
"The knight took the shoes and dragged the thief back to the princess. Then he picked him up and hurled him into the fountain!"
Éponine giggled and Aimée smiled.
" 'I have returned your shoes, my fair maiden,' the knight said in a deep voice when he got of his horse. He removed his helmet and the princess gasped when she saw how handsome his was. A big, strong, rugged man with pale green eyes. The knight knelt before her and gently placed both of her shoes back on her feet.
"The knight leaned over and kissed her hand and picked her up, letting her ride on his horse as he walked her back home. The princess knew she was in love, just one look and she knew. The knight brought her all the way back to the castle and knelt before the king. He asked the king if he could marry the princess, because he fell in love at first sight. The princess pleaded with her father, begging him to let the valiant knight marry her and sweep her away."
Aimée sniffed and wiped at her nose with her hand. Éponine was quiet.
"But the king, a cruel and selfish man, denied the marriage. Crushed, the princess locked herself in her room high up in the castle and cried. At dinner time, a letter came with her supper. It was from the knight, begging her to sneak away in the night and they would run away together and live happily ever after.
"After dinner, the princess packed up all of her favorite belongings into a small bag and waited until night. She heard a whisper at her window and looked down. Below her sat her knight in shining armor, his horse as black as night. The princess, so happy, tied her bed sheets into a long rope and lowered down her bag. Then, quickly and quietly as a ghost, the princess climbed down the rope and climbed up onto her knights horse. Holding on to him tightly, the two rode off in the night and they lived and loved happily ever after."
Éponine clapped her hands, "I liked that story!"
"Me too, angel," Aimée said, remembering for a moment that Melanie used to call her that. Wiping her glistening eyes, Aimée stood and clasped Éponine's hand in her own. "Let's go inside."
The inn was still as chaotic as before, but now the shouts were so slurred together they were barely intelligible. Éponine and Aimée quickly threaded their way to her room. A mattress had been laid out on the floor for Aimée to sleep, but it was little more than a pile of straw covered in a thick burlap-like cloth. Éponine yawned and Aimée helped her get out of the little dress and down to her comfortable chemise. Taking the hairpins from the chocolate curls, Aimée instructed Éponine to get into bed. Tucking the blanket around her and giving the little girl a kiss on the forehead, Aimée took the candle from the bedside table. She brought it to the ground, next to her own pitiful bed in order to change.
"Goodnight, Aimée," Éponine said, looking at her as Aimée unlaced the tight chest of her dress. "I'm happy you came to stay with us."
Aimée's fingers froze on the strings. She looked up to the child, brown eyes wide with innocence. "What?"
"I'm glad you came to stay with us. You're better than Mama."
Aimée felt her throat constrict with painful irony. She was torn away from the man she loved only to be put in this hellhole with a little girl that desperately needed her. Aimée felt like a pawn in one of God's cruel games, forced to be thrust from one place to the next for some kind of higher amusement.
"Well…I'm glad I'm here to help you, 'Poneine , angle," Aimée whispered, her voice very, very quiet. The corset was finally unlaced and Aimée folded it up in her large skirts. With an undershirt and petticoat, Aimée crawled underneath the thin blanket. It reeked undesirably and Aimée tried her best not to think about it when she blew out the small candle. She turned on her side in the darkness and closed her eyes, seeing Javert's face in the darkness. The night rustled around her and her eyes snapped open.
Feeling a warmth nestle against her back she craned her neck backwards, but couldn't see anything in the inkiness. "Éponine?"
"I wanted to sleep with you tonight," the little girl whispered.
Aimée sighed and turned back to facing the wall, nestling her head into the pillow. Éponine was curled up against her like a little brown cat. Aimée moved the blanket so it covered both of them and allowed herself to drift off to sleep to the soft quiet sound of the little girl breathing.
Javert's hand throbbed underneath the wrapping. Pain added to the anger and it set his teeth on edge. His body lurched with Ombre's as the horse galloped, snorting against the bit. The sound of Ombre's hooves pounding matched his heartbeat. His hands were clutching the reins far too tightly.
Two days had passed and his burned hand still ached. There had been no sign of Gérard Lamenté or Aimée. His men had ransacked inns, questioned courts. They even asked prostitutes if they'd seen any sign of him. And with every shake of the head or answer of 'no', Javert's fury grew, consuming him and making his sight bleed red around the edges. As time went on, his questions grew harsher, as did his methods. Tables were flipped, windows shattered, and bodies slammed against walls as Javert growled his interrogations through is teeth, his lips curled in a snarl.
Now they were at Paris. He was expected to take the job as Chief Inspector of Paris, and it gave him the opportunity he needed to search carriages. The two couldn't run forever, their money would run out and like an ant to sugar, Gérard would make a mistake and head to Paris. Javert would sit and wait, no matter how hard it was for him. His money was running out and employment called to him, a sound he couldn't ignore.
Ombre's mouth was foaming around his reigns when Javert hauled him to a skidding stop in front of the city gates. "Inspector Javert reporting for work," Javert said, looking down at the two guards. One of them flipped through a pile of papers and nodded him through. He needed to find a stable and a fresh horse. Ombre was not the young stallion he used to be and Javert knew he was exhausted. His posse of lower officers. Finding a stable, Javert swung himself out of the saddle and put the reigns into the hands of the stable boy.
"I need a new horse ready immediately," Javert ordered, his voice like stone. The stable boy hurried away from him, fearful and timid. "You are relieved for the evening," Javert told his men, turning and watching them stiffly slide from their saddles, their legs sore from the hard ride. "Rest here. Then I expect you to travel back to your jobs in Montreuil tomorrow or the day next. Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
Javert watched them go, leading their horses by the reigns, searching for other stables far away from their commander. His gaze was hard. His arms crossed in front of him and he felt the weight of his pistol and saber at his waist. They were unmade promises to Gérard Lamenté, heavy and silent as they patiently waited for their time.
Javert's replacement horse, a tall, slender brown gelding, was brought to him. Settling into the saddle and biting his jaw against the pain in his hand, Javert reached into his coat pocket and flipped a coin to the boy. By the time it pinged to the floor by his feet, Javert had turned and trotted off back to the gate. He passed through without giving the guards a backwards glance.
Once out of the gate, he urged the brown gelding into an easy canter. The horse snorted and pulled against the reigns and Javert loosened his grip, realizing that he was not giving the animal enough slack. He looked around, trying to find anywhere to check. Javert was driven to keep looking, keep questioning, but he knew of no other towns, no other places to look. The moon and stars shone above him and he slowed to a walk, his neck craned backed and he stared at the natural lights above him.
Show me where to go…I need to find her, Javert pleaded. "Please…."
Adjusting in his saddle, Javert reached into his pocket and pulled out the little velvet box. It felt like one thousand pounds of cold iron in his palm. Flipping the little lid open, the dark sapphire glinted in the darkness. It screamed at him in the darkness, so loudly it stung his ears.
You never told her you love her. You never told her you needed her.
Javert's fist closed around the ring and he looked over the road, the lights of Paris at his back and the light of the stars above him. He swallowed back the chaos that roiled inside him.
"I'm sorry," he spoke quietly into the night. "I'm sorry, Aimée."
I'm sorry I couldn't keep you safe. I'm sorry I never told you. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
Javert would find her. He didn't know when, but he would. He pledged that to the stars above him and the ring he held in his hand. Aimée would stay safe, she was a strong woman, beautiful and resilient. Heaving a weary sigh, Javert turned the horse back to the city gates. Paris swallowed him up with its crowded, bustling chaos. He told himself that somewhere in these walls, Aimée Lamenté was here. Like that convict, Jean Valjean, she would be here, hidden in some nook or cranny. All he had to do was find her. Or all she had to do was get away from Gérard.
He wouldn't let fate win this time.
Javert disappeared in the nighttime crowds of Parisian carriages and beggars disappeared in a manner of minutes.