Chapter Text
Prologue
To live and die for love
France 1832
Evening had arrived as the sun settled upon the ocean, tinging the sky a deep auburn red. Smoke from the cannons filled the air, blemishing the sky with small patches of grey. Screams and crying filled the air as the soldiers stormed the barricade. They were screaming for mercy and crying for lost friends. Their revolution for all the passion and fire it created, was a failure and now all that was left was oblivion.
Eponine was dying that much she was sure of. The pain of the bullet had faded and now there was only numbness. Chaos surrounded her, she could hear the distant echoes of screaming and crying, people running frantically trying to escape the oncoming onslaught of soldiers. But all she could feel was the Marius’ touch lingering on the surface of her skin as he hugged her against his chest. Marius, the man she loved with all her heart, but who did not love her back. Marius who loved the lark who worshipped Cosette, whose grace and light, would blind the gamine who lived in the dark. They were perfect together, and for once she was fine with that. Eponine was happy she was content, this was a fitting conclusion to her lonely sad life. She had lived for Marius and now she will die for Marius.
Enjolras had failed. He had failed himself, he had failed his friends and most of all he had failed his patria. His revolution was a sham a joke, their barricade the last standing. The rain the night before had ruined the ammunition, rendering it useless. Their bayonets were their only defence against guns and cannons. Enjolras buried his face into his hands, his back aching from leaning against the splintered wood of the chair, he had prepared to die but that did not mean he was free of fear. The Cafe Musain held his dearest memories, days spent with the closest of his friends as they dreamt and fought for a better tomorrow. But now as he sat amongst his brothers once more, the atmosphere was no longer hopeful, their innocence wiped from war, he silently begged for their forgiveness. He was filled with regret, not for the revolution but for failing his people, for failing his friends. His revolution was flawed and now they were all dead, walking corpses as they await their final breaths. His heart beat loudly against his chest as the distant echoes of boots hitting the hard floor grew louder and louder stopping abruptly when it reached the closed door of the Musain. The silence was deafening, he steeled himself as the door was broken open, his eyes determined and resolute a trait reflected in each one of his friends. The last thing he remembered was the bright flash of light followed by gunshots reigning in on him. Enjolras was dying this he was sure, but he could not help but smile for he was happy and he was content. He had lived for patria and he will die for patria.
They had both died for love, her for a man who would never reciprocate her feelings, and he for the people that did not rise in revolution. They were kindred spirits who lived and died for love, yet so different in their demeanours. Eponine lived in the shadows, while Enjolras basked in the glory of the light. While she was cool and mysterious, he was burning with passion and while she was cynical and realistic, he was naïve and idealistic. But still they were two parts of a single soul, ripped apart in the beginning of time desperately aching and searching for each other. They were destined to be reunited; just not in this life.