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cracking marble
act two, winter
chapter ten, disownment

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( decembre , 1831 )

IN A QUICK MOVEMENT, Mathilde had slipped through the doorway and out of the bitter air. Shutting the door quietly behind her, she struggled to fight off the grin emerging on her face.

A faint chuckle escaped her lips; her heart felt full. That was until she turned around.

"Who was that man?"

Her heart skipped a beat as a cold voice echoed through the hallway, which - when thinking about it - she noticed was somehow darker and colder than usual.

Spinning around in alert, Mathilde met the green eyes of her mother. Her hand was tense, clutching onto a burning candle, her gaze stoic as she stared at her daughter from the bottom of the staircase.

"Mama!" The girl cried, feigning lightheartedness, "You startled me! I didn't see you there."

"Who is that man, Mathilde?" Her mama repeated, her tone gaining a vicious edge that she'd never heard before.

"No one." She dismissed, hurriedly, as the woman took a threatening step toward the girl, the candle in her hand shaking dangerously, "A colleague of Combeferre's, he offered to walk me home."

"You lie!" She shrieked, causing Mathilde to step backwards in alarm. "I saw you! I saw him!"

Her merciless voice echoed throughout the dark household that had never felt less like home to the blonde.

A faint giggle of a child rang from behind the other side of the door, followed by a deep chortle of a man, piercing the silence the mother and daughter stood in.

Still smiling, Combeferre entered through the door, ushering Amélie in front of him as he shut it behind him, trapping the cold air outside.

Amélie strived forward unaware of her sister and mama's presence and gave a small shriek of surprise when Mathilde's hand had reached out and stopped her from getting any closer to the woman they called a mother.

"Oh." Combeferre muttered in surprise, suddenly sensing the tension in the air. "Good evening, Mama."

"Stay where you are." Her voice shook just as violently as her candle in her hand did. "I saw you all at the rally. All of you." She peered at her youngest daughter who was quickly ushered behind Combeferre.

"Mama-" Mathilde began, taking a step forward, but she was cut off before so much as another word could leave her lips.

"Maybe I would have expected this irrationality from you, Combeferre," Their mother said, scathingly, to the eldest, whose jaw was clenched at her words. "But I would never have expected you, Mathilde."

Her green eyes were fixed on her eldest daughter, who dared not blink.

"Never you." She hissed, making the hairs on the blonde's arms stand on end, "To be fraternising with anarchists!"

"Mama, please," Mathilde mustered, desperately trying to stop her voice from shaking "You don't understand—"

"You're a disgrace, Mathilde!" She shrieked, a green inferno raging in her irises. "Have you seen the state of yourself? Your hair? Your nails? And where in heaven's name do you get such a disgusting dress?"

Speechlessly, Mathilde glanced down at the light blue dress which seemed much darker in the blackness of her presence. Clutching the hem of the dress close to her, the blonde held her head high, using all her inner strength to meet her mother's gaze.

"I can hardly recognise you." Her mother said, her voice quietening a little, "Have you lost all self-respect?"

Setting down her candle on the nearby dresser, her nostrils flared and her eyes flashed like a bull seeing red.

"Mama—" Mathilde tried once more, as calmly as she could manage.

"QUIET!"

Suddenly, a burning sensation overwhelmed the girl as she felt it spread across her left cheek; its stinging causing her eyes to water as her breathing hitched in her throat.

Her mother had struck her.

The girl was agog. Her own mother, who was suppose to never harm her kin, had struck her as though she was nothing more than vermin.

"Mama—!" Combeferre cried, anger fueling his tone, as Amélie let out a strangled cry.

"Hold your tongue, Combeferre!" The woman growled, as the blonde looked at her, with more fear than she'd ever regarded anything. "I don't want to see your faces ever again, you have disgraced our name! I have never and will never accept a child of mine to be a revolutionary!"

Her shrieks echoed into the emptiness of the house, as Mathilde stood rooting to the spot, her expression constant; petrified.

"What would your father think?" She hissed, as Amélie's muffled crying filled the room. "You should be ashamed, Mathilde."

The blonde could barely muster a breath let alone a response, as she felt the hostility of her mother's tone cut into her. Her prolonged silence only caused her mother's expression to contort from one of anger into one of ruthlessness.

"I finally see how it is." Clémence took a slow step towards her eldest daughter, the sound of her heel clicking on the wooden floor sending a shiver down Mathilde's spine. "Your recklessness, your unruliness, your disobedience! All for this?"

A cold, mocking laugh left her mother's lips as she surveyed her daughter.

"It seems Mathilde, she knows best. Mathilde is so mature now, such a clever grown up miss!"

The girl's wide eyes were still glued on her mother's face, watching her every movement. Her cold eyes darted to a different object suddenly; the locket hanging around her daughter's neck; the gift her father bestowed to her upon his deathbed.

And in a brief exchange of a glance; the blonde knew her intentions.

"Mathilde, she knows best, well if you're so sure now, step aside and give me this!"

Before the blonde could even process her words, her mother had started forward and grabbed at her neck, her long cat-like nails scratching at the skin as she seized the locket in hand and pulled it so harshly that the chain snapped.

The locket was confiscated from her, dangling in her mother's nimble fingers before she threw it harshly to the floor, clearly attempting to cause as much damage of possible.

"NO!"

A strangled cry escaped Mathilde lips, as she fell to the floor desperately reaching for the locket.

She wasn't even in inches of touching it, when her mother stepped in the way, casting a cold glance down at her.

" This is what it's worth, then? Do it, I implore you. Go ahead just watch and see!" The cold woman spat in response, the golden locket clutched tightly in her grasp. "Trust my dears, there's nothing out there for you. I won't say I told you so!"

Turning on her heel, her children frozen in shock followed their mother with their eyes as she retreated up the creaking steps of the staircase — her tone cold as she continued.

"So, Mathilde, she knows best, so if your cause is righteous, go and put it to the test!" Clémence sneered as she reached apex of staircase, staring down upon her three children. "When you're dying, don't come crying mother knows best!"

Amelie's cries echoed in the cutting silence that followed, as Mathilde tried helplessly to suppress her own sobs.

"Get your things and get out of my house." She said in a low voice, her gaze never flinching as her cold eyes stared into her daughter's from the top of the staircase. "The lot of you."

***

A SILENCE HUNG over the family as they slowly walked through the dark streets of Paris. None of them dared to break it; the reality of their situation was enough to stomach without discussion. The only sounds to be heard were that of the night and frequent sniffles from Amélie who clung to the arms of Mathilde and Combeferre, for fear of them letting go.

A small suitcase hung in Mathilde's other hand, filled only with necessities. She didn't care that it had cost her a few dresses, her desire to leave that house was so overwhelming that she hadn't given a second thought to the pretentious items that had previously been in her possession.

Snow was still falling but not as heavily as before. It was as though someone was delicately dusting the streets with flour, as small snowflakes waltzed down from the sky, getting tangled in their hair.

It was also colder - or, at least, she felt it was. Even though a winter cloak was wrapped around her body, the absence of a bed to sleep in and a table to eat at made the night air colder than any snow storm could.

Looking up the street ahead, her heart - heavy with the emotion of the last hour - lightened a little at the sight of the Café Musain and the glow emitting from the windows upstairs. There was little noise coming from the building, she presumed that many of boys had decided to leave after playing in the snow, but some had remained.

Sparing a quick glance at her older brother whose gaze was set firmly upon the Musain they approached, she saw his eyes were blank. At such a point in time, the guide of Les Amis de l"ABC had no idea where the world was taking him.

"You know, I love you both."

The words left his lips just as suddenly as they'd been said. His gaze remained forward as his two sisters turned to him, eyes full of concern.

"We love you too, Ferre." The blonde replied, sincerely, as Amélie squeezed his hand compassionately. "This isn't your fault."

The brother chose not to reply, obviously believing the contrary to his sister's statement.

The downstairs of the Musain was dark and lifeless in comparison to the floor above. The oil lamps, that lit up the room in the evenings, had been extinguished. The only light to be soon inside was that of the moon peaking through the tears in the curtains.

Ferre set down his and Amélie's cases on the steps leading up to the door, so he could twist the door handle. Not for a moment did he consider removing Amélie's hand from his, as he twisted the handle and ushered her inside and out of the cold, in front of him, with Mathilde following closely behind her.

Quickly, Ferre retrieved the cases he'd placed on the ground and closed the door behind with a short clicking sound. Without anymore words being said, Combeferre stacked their cases on a nearby table and beckoned for Mathilde's to placed on top. When all the cases were securely stacked, Combeferre knelt down so he could scoop his youngest sister into his arms, Amélie fastened her arms around his neck as her hand left the grasp of her sister's.

Her two siblings led the way through the Café towards the light cascading down the stairs from the meeting room where, now that they were indoors, Mathilde could hear familiar noises - noises of laughter.

Combeferre took the first step in his stride as she followed closely, piecing together the presences that they were about to encounter.

The barking laughter of Grantaire rang in my ears, the blonde could picture him as he always was: sat on his usual stool, nursing probably his eighth bottle of alcohol. His laughter was followed by a humorous snort that she knew belonged to Éponine, who was probably clutching her side nearly falling off her chair from laughing to much.

The remaining bouts of laughter came in a wave; there was the boyish laughter of Gavroche, a hooting chuckle from Madame and a lyrical giggle belonging to Musichetta, meaning Joly would be close by.

And then there was one last presence that she sensed the second I walked through the door; he didn't even need to make a sound. His presence was sometimes even louder than his voice - as was the case here. She knew, in her bones, Enjolras would be sat at his usual table facing the entrance to the room. No doubt would he have a pen in hand, and he would be switching between scribbling furiously on the parchment in front of him to admiring the atmosphere around him and the company he was in.

"What happened?"

Just as Mathilde had assumed, Grantaire was sat on his stool, cradling a bottle in hand. However, his laughter had ceased as had everyone else's, his eyebrows furrowed in concern as he awaited the answer to his question which seemed decidedly pointed at the girl.

Cleared my throat, Mathilde tucked a piece of hair behind her ear nervously.

"She did it." She stated, simply, but in those three words, everyone - including Gavroche - understood the severity of their situation. "She actually did it."

To her right, Combeferre lowered Amélie back on her feet, where she immediately seized her sister's hand in hers and hugged her side, staying close to her.

"I don't suppose any of you have a spare room, do you?" Her brother asked, attempting to deliver his query with somewhat of smile.

"We have nowhere to go." Amélie mumbled, barely audibly.

The scrape of a chair on the wooden floor caught the blonde's attention, causing her to look up. Enjolras' blue eyes scanned the family, looking over Combeferre, Amélie and then Mathilde, as he arose from his chair.

"You will stay with me as long as you need." He told them, strictly, not prepared to take no for an answer. He strode across the room, standing opposite the three of them. "I have more than enough room for the three of you."

A shaky sigh of relief left the girl, as Combeferre wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders and Amélie let go of her hand, striding forward with a wide smile as she looked up at her new hero, who looked fondly down at her

"Merci, Monsieur!" She grinned, before hugging his waist, catching him completely off-guard.

The man in red stifled a brief chuckle as he stroked Amélie's hair as she clung to him for dear life.

"I'm eternally grateful, Enjolras." Combeferre told his friend and colleague, as Amélie finally allowed him to break free and they shook hands in a brotherly fashion.

Mathilde smiled at the scene taking place, wondering just how lucky she was to be surrounded by people who had such a remarkable ability to make the dark times shine like the sun.

"You're our family now." The small voice of Gavroche announced as he appeared at the blonde's side, giving her a toothy grin.

She smiled fondly down at the little boy, before bending to his height and ruffling his hair.

"Chérie, we always were." She told him, to which his only response was his usual grin.

"Days in the sun," He hummed, smiling at the blonde, "When my life has barely began. Not until my whole life is done, will I ever leave you."

Mathilde pressed a loving kiss to the child's head as Grantaire arose from his seat continuing Gavroche's song and making his own way towards her family.

"Will I tremble again to my dear one's gorgeous refrain?" He hummed, throwing an arm around Mathilde and patting Amélie softly on the head.

"Will you now forever remain-" Joly and Musichetta chimed in, in perfect harmony, as they sat lovingly by each others' side, "-out of reach of my arms?"

"All those days in the sun, what I'd give to relive just one." Éponine sang, making her way over to where Amélie was sat, next Madame. "Undo what's done and bring back the light."

"Oh, I could sing of the pain these dark days bring," Madame chorused to Amélie who looked up at her, admiringly. "The spell we're under, still it's the wonder of us, I sing of tonight."

"How in the midst of all this sorrow can so much hope and love endure?" The blonde hummed aloud, looking around at the people she loved most in the world. "I was innocent and certain," She spared a quick glance at Enjolras, who was already on the receiving end. "Now I'm wiser but unsure."

She broke away from the group for a moment to gather her thoughts. The world was theirs for the taking now, just as they thought it was when they were children; when they had yet to learn of the control their mama had had on their lives. But now, she was no longer in their lives and now she finally had to embrace adulthood no matter how terrifying it seemed. But yet, her mama still had a hold on her - she was not completely free.

"I can't go back into my childhood," She hummed to herself, looking out of the nearest window onto the white street.

"One that your father made secure." A familiar voice said from her side; the blonde turned to find Enjolras, eyes on her, a small smile on his lips.

"I can feel a change in me." She confessed to the man, standing by her side, looking him in the eye, "I'm stronger now, but still not free!"

"Days in the sun will return," The group chorused from the end of the room, as Enjolras and Mathilde approached them joining in their song, "We must believe as others do. That days in the sun-"

"Will come shinning through." Amélie chirped from next to Combeferre, earning a low rumble of laughter from everyone.

***

THE JOURNEY TO Enjolras' apartment only took a mere ten minutes if that. His home was at the top of a three floored building that used to be a hospital some years previously but had been shut down.

"They say the ghosts of the dead still roam the building to this day." Enjolras mused to the group, just as he was unlocking his door.

"Huh?" Amélie piped up in a panicked tone.

"But they're very nice ghosts." He added, hurriedly, with a quick smile at the little girl who immediately relaxed at his words.

The click of a door unlocked echoed through the dark stairwell, and Enjolras lead the way into the apartment, holding the door ajar for them to enter through.

"Well, here we are." He said with a weak smile, scratching the back of his neck nervously, as he shut the door. "I appreciate that it's not what you're normally used it but-"

"It's lovely." Mathilde cut him off, smiling at the sight in front of them.

Before her was a small square sitting room, with the brick walls that bordered it being no more than seven metres.

On the left of the room were two large windows which let in the moonlight casting shadows across the room. A small writing desk was perched under the window sill furthest from her, and both windows were bordered with tall bookshelves.

There was a small kitchen at the far end of the room, but by the looks of it was rarely in use and other cabinets and drawers cluttered the room in an organised mess.

A small fireplace and chimney breast were on the right of the room with an armchair and a chaise longue stretched in front of it.

The blonde hesitated before looking back at the fireplace, only to find Amélie stood in it peering up the chimney.

"Amélie, do be careful!" She cried, shaking her head with a small smile, just as the room filled with warm light as Combeferre circled the apartment lighting the oil lamps.

"Amélie and yourself can take the bedroom," Enjolras told the girl, gesturing briefly to his right, "And Combeferre and I will get by in here."

Mathilde looked to the right of room again, and found her gaze fixed on a door that stood slightly ajar leading into an adjacent room which she presumed to be the bedroom and, hopefully, a wash room.

"Are you sure?" She asked the man, hurriedly, turning to face him, "I mean, I don't mind-"

"I insist." He told her, sincerely.

She gave a defeated sigh, looking at the man with a small smile.

"Thank you, Enjolras." The blonde said, softly, stroking his arm, briefly. "You know, you really didn't have to do this."

"But I wanted to." Enjolras replied, again refusing any attempt she had made to give him an out.

The blonde's gaze dropped to the floor as an embarrassed blush sprinted up her cheeks, she gave a quiet chuckle.

"We don't deserve you, Enjolras."

"Nonsense." He retorted, picking up her case from the floor. "I'm not worthy of you."

He sent a small smirk in my direction, as he strode into the bedroom and placed the case on the bed. Mathilde followed after him, standing in the doorway, watching the scene in front of her unfold as he went about lighting the oil lamps.

This room was smaller than the adjacent to it, with a large bed at the centre, and various wardrobes and drawers bordered the walls. On the opposite wall, there was a small door that she presumed led into a washroom.

Enjolras spared the girl a soft smile as he approached the door where she was stood, Mathilde returned it with a quick mumble;

"Maybe you are Prince Charming."

"Pardon?" He asked, immediately stopping in his tracks in front of her.

"Nothing." She said, hurriedly, forcing a smile.

Enjolras gave a short nod with a brief smile.

"Good night, then."

"Yes," The blonde nodded, "Goodnight."

***

"That tickles!" Amélie cried with a giggle as Mathilde wiped her face free of dirt with a damp flannel from the washroom.

"No, it doesn't." The blonde replied with a wide smile, as she pulled away from her and jumped onto the bed, wrapping herself in the sheets.

Mathilde shook my head as she returned to the wash room, placing the flannel on the side of the bath to dry. She took a quick look at herself in the mirror, checking her own face for dirt, only to find it clear.

"Sing to me, Mathilde."

Smiling to herself as she heard her sisters request, Mathilde turned down the oil lamp in the washroom, closing the door behind her as she reentered the bedroom.

"What would you like me to sing?" The blonde asked, as she climbed onto the bed and sat up as Amélie curled herself further into the covers.

"The lullaby that Papa always sang on snowy nights." She muttered with a small yawn, looking up at her sister with her large caramel eyes.

"Alright, then." The blonde said with a small smile. "But you have to go straight to sleep once I'm done. Promise?"

"Promise." She nodded, furiously.

Clearing her throat, gently, Mathilde shuffled to get into a slightly comfier position upon the bed.

"A gentle breeze from Hushabye Mountain." She sang softly to her younger sister who smiled at the words, "Softly blows o'er Lullaby Bay.

"It fills the sails of boats that are waiting." The blonde hummed as the little girl stifled yet another yawn. "Waiting to sail your worries away."

Amélie's eyes began to flutter shut as Mathilde continued her song.

"So close your eyes on Hushabye Mountain. Wave goodbye to cares of the day."

A soft humming sound filled the air in short bursts as Amélie began to drift off to sleep.

"And watch your boat from Hushabye Mountain." Mathilde leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "Sail far away from Lullaby Bay."

***

AS GLAD AS SHE was to be able to sleep in a bed and under a roof as opposed to the cold winter streets, Mathilde could not shake the feeling of tension that hung over her like a thunder cloud on a sunny day. Nor could she ignore the stinging sensation growing stronger in her cheek.

She couldn't sleep, and was envious of the child that lay beside her; out like a light without a care in the world.

With a defeated groan, the blonde rose to her feet, pulling on a dressing gown; deciding the best option was to see if she could find some fresh air and clear her head.

Making her way over to the door of the bedroom, she rubbed her cheek in attempt to numb part of the pain. She turned the door handle swiftly and slipped through the threshold into the sitting room.

The drapes hadn't been shut and a cool night light washed into the room. Hugging the dressing gown closer to her, Mathilde silently tread over to the nearest window and perched daintily on the windowsill, opening the window a crack and letting in a cool breeze to whisk away her worries.

"Can I help you, Mathilde?"

"Ah!" The girl let out a cry of shock, quickly clasping a hand to her mouth to conceal the sound.

Looking up, she saw Enjolras stood not far from her, a smirk barely noticeable on his lips, evidently quite pleased with himself.

"You scared me!" She whisper-shouted, with a brief glare before a smile took over her features. "You shouldn't go sneaking around like that!"

"My apologies." He replied, smiling as he took a seat next to her on the window sill. "Why aren't you asleep?"

"I could ask you the same question." She retorted, just loud enough for him to hear, quirking an eyebrow.

"I asked you first." He smirked, leaning back against the window panes.

The blonde girl rolled her eyes, as she hugged her knees to her chest.

"I couldn't." She confessed, in a small voice. "Considering the circumstances and all."

"Do you wish to talk about it?" He asked, slowly, after a moment's pause.

Mathilde considered it, her lips pursing in thought. But did she really want to burden Enjolras with her convoluted mix of emotions?

"I don't know what I want." She replied with quiet, derisive chuckle, before deciding to change the subject. "Why couldn't you sleep?"

"Um- I was writing another speech for the next rally." He told her, gesturing to the writing underneath the other window along the wall. "I'm pitching them all to everyone tomorrow to choose the best one."

"May I read one?" The blonde asked, with a small smirk, wanting more than anything to distract herself from her own plaguing thoughts.

"But then it wouldn't be fair to the others, would it?" Enjolras teased, folding his arms in faux sternness.

"Don't be a tease." She whined, slapping his arm lightly, causing him to shoot her a smile in response. "Let me?"

"Alright." He conceded, making her smile broader.

He arose from his seat, before making his way quietly to the writing desk and returning to the windowsill with parchment in hand. Enjolras handed the speech to the girl, who took it carefully, cautious to smudge the ink that looked rather fresh.

Her brown eyes scanned over the words hungrily, taking them in, with a smile growing on her face with each sentence she read. When she'd finished, she lowered the paper from her face and looked at Enjolras, awestruck.

"Well? How do you find it?" He asked, eagerly and yet also wincing a little as though he was nervous for the response.

A small breath left the girl's lips that was not even conscious she'd been holding, with a timid smile growing on her features.

"You're incredible." She muttered.

His expression changed, his features contorting into a bright smile as his eyes gleamed at the compliment.

"The speech is so- it's so passionate." She fed back, eyes running over the paper once more. "Determined. Focused. A little bit stubborn. And all for the greater good." She concluded, passing the parchment back to him. "It's you on a piece of paper."

His smile quickly morphed into a smirk at the comment as he took the paper back from the girl.

"Passionate, am I?" He asked, raising his eyebrows.

"About our cause, yes." Mathilde chuckled, deciding to deflate his ego just a little.

"Well, I'm glad you think so." He replied, leaning back on the window panes once more.

"How could I not?" She retorted, hugging her knees close to her chest once more.

A cold breeze swept into the room, efficiently numbing her thoughts and calming her mind. Enjolras and Mathilde sat in a content silence for another minute or so; she could feel his persistent gaze on her.

"Where's your necklace?" He whispered, suddenly, his voice sounding like a scream in the surrounding silence.

Mathilde stiffened slightly at his words, an action which must have caught the marble man's attention as he continued, arching an eyebrow in concern.

"It's just- I've never seen you without it."

Mathilde inhaled sharply, sitting up and straightening her posture, barely bringing herself to look at the fearless leader.

"Mother took it back from me." She replied simply; it wasn't a lie.

Enjolras noticed her change in demeanour immediately, before tentatively asking:

"She hurt you, didn't she?"

"No, I'm fine." The blonde answered without a second thought.

"No, you're not." Enjolras argued, perhaps becoming slightly irritated. "Your cheek is cut."

"Must be that blasted ring of hers." The girl muttered, subconsciously, forgetting Enjolras could hear her every word, as she reached a hand up to her face only feel it sting under her touch.

"She struck you!?" Enjolras cried, incredulously, his eyes widening.

"Shh!"

"Let me get you a cloth." Enjolras said, getting quickly to his feet and making his way over to his kitchen.

"No, Enjolras, I'm fine." Mathilde whisper-shouted across the room as he turned to face her with his eyebrows raised, as though expecting her to change her answer. "Really."

"You really expect your word to change my mind?" Enjolras scoffed, unconvinced, as he grabbed a cloth from his kitchen side and wrung it in some water.

"You worry too much." She told him, pompously.

"I worry for you." He corrected the girl, shaking his head.

"I can take care of myself." She assured him, stubbornly, folding her arms as the marble man made his way back over to her, cloth in hand.

"Without being rude, Mathilde." Enjolras chuckled, sitting back down next to her; closer than he had before. "In recent days, you've proved the complete opposite of that statement."

"I suppose you're right."

A small deflated sigh left her lips, as he pressed the cloth to the cut causing the girl to wince slightly.

"I'm sorry." She muttered, suddenly, looking down at the floor.

"For what?" Enjolras asked, his brows furrowing in concern.

"For being such a burden on you." She chuckled, derisively, "I don't know why you keep tasking yourself with taking care of me, honestly-"

"Mathilde." He cut her off, a shiver running down her spine at the sound of his name leaving his lips. "You could never be a burden ... not to me."

The blonde found herself meeting his gaze, which she found to hold a surprisingly soft expression as he continued to stroke the cloth against her skin.

"I take care of you when you're wounded because any man would do it."

"But you're not any man, Enjolras." Mathilde replied, with a small smile. "Not to me, certainly."

The man in front of her shot her a brief smile, but his brows furrowed in thought, looking as though he was trying to articulate the right words for his following statement.

"I just like seeing your smile," He confessed, "And when it's not there; I notice."

The corners of Mathilde's lips curved themselves into a bashful smile at his compliment, a small blush blossoming on her cheeks.

"So I do my best to attempt to reinstate that smile because I believe the world is a lot darker without it." Enjolras concluded, finally bringing himself to meet the girl's gaze.

A shaky breath left the girl's lips.

"You really do have a way with words, don't you, Monsieur?"

"I'd like to think so." He gave her a small shrug, as he took the cloth away from her face and folded it onto his leg. "How are you feeling?"

"Charmed." She answered, honestly, causing him to chuckle which raised her spirits massively.

"I really am sorry about your mother." Enjolras told her, sincerely, after a few moments had passed.

Her first response was only a weak smile before she answered.

"It was going to happen sooner or later. I just didn't expect it to be sooner." The blonde shrugged, her gaze finding the floor again. "Thank you for taking us in."

"I didn't think twice about it." Enjolras confessed, with a firm nod.

Mathilde noticed, in that moment, that despite having removed the cloth from her face, he hadn't edged away from her. It also occurred to her that his face was getting closer and closer to hers-

Suddenly, a loud yawn filled the midst and the blonde was forced to remember that her brother was sleeping on the chaise longue in that very same room. She gave a light chuckle, finding a little humour in that notion that something would always manage to invade these moments between Enjolras and herself.

"He's worried." She told Enjolras, her gaze fixed on the back of the chaise longue where her brother laid, "All he wants is to protect us."

"It'll be alright." Enjolras assured the girl, his own gaze on the other side of the room, as he slowly rose to his feet, offering the blonde his hand. "You should get some rest."

"So should you." She retorted as she took his hand, as he pulled her to her feet.

"And you should also learn to give in to your pride." Enjolras retorted in a whisper, still holding onto her hand.

"So should you." She retorted once more, her grin growing, as she removed her hand from his and made her way back to Amélie in the bedroom.

"Goodnight Mathilde." He whispered, the blonde turned to find him stood in the same spot she left him in.

"Goodnight Enjolras."

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