Author's note: Well I promised myself I would update earlier, obviously that didn't work. But the end of the school year is almost here, so there's still hope!
Did anyone freak out over today, June 5th? Anyone? Well, it seems that I was the only one who was really super excited over this. I need more Les Mis buddies.
PLEASE REVIEW. I'm dying here.
Anyway, enjoy!
Disclaimer: As much fun I have obsessing over fictional characters, the characters in this story belong to Victor Hugo. This is to simply take my mind off of the fact that the book doesn't fulfill my needs as a fangirl.
Liberté for the Soul
by relievedseriousness
Éponine gazed at her surroundings. She was at her father's inn in Montfermeil. But how could it be? she thought. She was not a girl of eight, but seventeen, as she was now, in reality. She wore the same rags as she did in Paris. So really, how could it be possible? The girl looked around.
The inn was a dirty structure, and the inside boasted of garishly bright colors that were ungracefully thrown about. Figures of faceless people dashed here and there, ignoring Éponine completely.
Suddenly, though, a young man stepped into the inn, and headed not to her father, but straight for her. As he came closer, Éponine could see his face. It was Marius, dressed in a boyish fashion. He kneeled in front of her, and asked, in an almost desperate voice, "Will you marry me?"
Éponine was rushed into a feeling of joy; she was in euphoria. "Yes! Yes, Marius, I will marry you." she nearly cried.
Marius smiled, it almost seemed to break his face. "Good. Now, you need to be dressed properly." He took her hand, and they were whisked away by a shot of blinding light.
Éponine looked around, and found herself a small chamber. It was the most luxurious room she'd ever seen. The walls were lined with light blue silk, the furniture of mahogany, and everything was trimmed with satin.
Where exactly am I? she wondered. She turned around, and saw Marius clothed in a dapper black suit. His cravat tied elegantly, he said, "You must prepare for the ceremony! We are to be married in moments! Close your eyes. A servant will help you."
She obliged, and shut her eyelids. Éponine heard a rustle of fabric, and muted whispers.
"Alright, now open your eyes." She did as she was told. Éponine looked down. The dirt-matted things she had for clothes were replaced with an ice-white wedding dress of taffeta. She stretched out her foot, and saw that her shoes, were of the daintiest slippers that were embroidered with gold thread. Éponine felt her head. The girl's hair was in an extravagant bun, with white ribbons and flowers braided in. Amazing, Éponine thought.
Marius then guided her to a floor length mirror. "Here's a better look of yourself. Aren't you a lovely sight now?"
The mirror showed exactly the same attire, but it held a completely different picture that left Éponine in shock.
It seemed, she now had a fair face. Her chestnut locks were now replaced with golden curls.
When Éponine looked up into her reflection, her gaze was met with blue eyes.
She had been turned into Cosette.
Marius stared at the mirror with a satisfied expression. "Ah - now you look perfect. Now you will be ready, my street urchin." He started laughing in an uncontrollable manner, mocking Éponine as the mirror shook and finally shattered into a thousand pieces.
Éponine awoke with a jolt. She surveyed the room wildly to be sure she wasn't lost in the silken nightmare she had just bared. It was just a dream, Éponine. Wasn't real at all.
She was reassuring herself, trying to calm down. Just a dream, a silly broken dream. Besides, in no world would Marius ever marry you. There is always Cosette there. He was never mine to lose.
Tears pricked at her eyes as the thought struck her with a horrendous blow. Éponine tried to keep them in place, but all efforts failed as the salty droplets dripped slowly one by one from her eyes before giving way to an entire river.
She tried to sob quietly, not noticing Aunt Hettie coming into the room. "Dear Éponine. I knew something was troubling you. Talk to me," she said softly.
The girl shook her head and wiped away the remaining tears. "I am fine," she said, her voice slightly shaky. "I just, needed to relieve myself for a moment."
Aunt Hettie sighed, but didn't meddle. "Very well. If you aren't going to lay around all day, languishing on your pallet, then could you please go to the apothecary to get some, um, tea leaves, for treating morning sickness. The address is 685, Rue Couteau. Between the docks and the vegetable market."
Éponine nodded hesitantly. The name of the street was unfamiliar to her, which was surprising, as her knowledge of the city's routeways were far more advanced than a native Parisian. There was also the fact that Musichetta was beyond the stage of such nausea. "Alright," she said. She stood up and got dressed. As she made her way to the door however, Aunt Hettie began shifting uncomfortably. "Wait," she faintly exclaimed.
Éponine stopped on the threshold, holding her shawl tightly in anticipation for a potential errand. Aunt Hettie came up, grabbed the gamine and held her in a constricting manner.
"Be careful," the woman murmured, her usual cheerful voice gone, substituted by a wobbly tone. "I'm sorry about this. I'm sorry. Take good care, you hear?" Éponine vaguely nodded, and Aunt Hettie spun around and went into the other room, to check on Musichetta, Éponine presumed.
The girl was bewildered at the episode that just happened. It was rather strange for the usually merry woman to act in such a saddening way. She supposed she should follow her and attempt to comfort her, but she didn't want to intrude in on whatever personal matter was going on.
Éponine took a deep breath and stepped out to carry her task.
He was having a dream, he knew it. But he chose to wander into it anyhow.
There was red everywhere. It was like drowning in blackness and blood. Everyone was shouting, but Enjolras couldn't hear anything. It all seemed muted, but was growing louder by the minute. Soldier fought student, bayonets clashed with rifles and guns. The mounting noise operated the booms of the cannons, signaling pieces of furniture to fly into splinters. He was holding a gun, shooting at a National Guard.
Then suddenly he was holding Éponine, her torso wounded. But her body was stiff, and as Enjolras glanced down, he saw her talking very fast. She was yelling at him, shouting about how dare he destroy the lives of the men, how dare he hold her. How dare he take her brother away.
At that moment, Gavroche collapsed in front of them, causing Courfeyrac to sob and shake the little body, trying to bring the gamin back to life.
And they were all abruptly yelling at him, lamenting to him about pain and the stupid miscalculations he made. Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Joly, Bossuet, Jehan, Feuilly, Bahorel, Grantaire, Éponine...
"Enjolras!"
He opened his eyes with a jerk, and swiveled his head to take in his actual settings. He was in his room, lying in his bed. The voice came from Marius, who was standing a foot away from the door, fully clad in his nightclothes, though thankfully with a robe draped on. "Are you alright?" the young man asked.
"Fine, yes, fine. Why are you in my room, and at night?" Enjolras questioned, noticing the moonlight seeping through his windowpane and puddling on the floorboards.
"Well, you were slightly, um, loud, while sleeping, I could hear you across the hall..."
"That is not a legitimate reason to barge into my room. Especially at night."
"But I did knock, Enjolras, I swear!"
Enjolras sighed. "Just go back to your room, Marius."
Once Marius left the room, Enjolras could finally release the pressuring anger and remorse he had inside of him.
So oblivious and childish at times. But if it weren't for him...I wouldn't have met Ép - no, no.
He fell asleep scolding himself about something he wouldn't be able to control.
Éponine had walked down over ten alleys by now, but still there was no sign of the street she was assigned to go to. Rue Couteau, Rue Couteau. Out of all the apothecaries in Paris she chose this one.
She had passed the market by now, and was almost at the docks and was about to turn back. She did so, but not before noticing a strange figment of a shadow leaning against a brick wall near her. Éponine decided to go another route, lest to avoid whatever being that was lurking.
She went down a small passage, expecting nothing more from the mysterious person. She was wrong, as the shadow seemed to immediately follow her when she moved, making their movements as discreet as possible.
What is happening? Please, don't tell me it's one of them...
She was thinking of all those men, ghastly in nature, who had forced themselves upon her. Without hesitation, without care for the woman who was trembling within. And then there were those times - her father - why she turned back before she reached the docks...
Éponine rounded yet another corner, trying to lose the stalker in the twisting turns of the cobblestone streets. But to no avail.
She went into a dilapidated building as quick as she could, hoping that the person would go straight ahead. She was halfway in the empty room when the shadow grabbed her arm.
Éponine was dragged out of the building. Before she could scream, a callused hand covered her mouth, ensuring no sound can effuse. She was pushed into a nearby corner, trapped.
The being stepped back slowly. Éponine could see that it was a man, dressed in fine clothes that looked bourgeois, yet rough around the edges. Tied to his belt was a knife, glinting with its polished blade. The face was surrounded by a darkness that Éponine thought was like smoke, evading its pursuers and catching the coveted prey.
The street's shadows finally relented, and uncovered the man. The face, now fully illuminated with moonlight, was clearly visible to Éponine's eyes. It was the devil's rescued orphan.
Montparnasse.