Rose of France (Ponie <3)

[msieurthernadier]

Louis Thenardier it could be said was having a rougher day than usual, there wasn't many days where he didn't wake up feeling particularly good but the feeling was generally assuaged or at the least forgotten about until he came home to his abominable wife who was fairly sure was probably shagging around, not that it mattered to him. He had long since considered his marriage to the old harpy null and void, about the same time he had been thrown out of the tavern and spent the first week or so scrabbling for anything. Any money, all money. There was no depth to the suffering that Louis would put himself through for a Franc or two and he was well aware of that and it played heavily on him. It wrecked havoc on his slightly fragile state of mind and at times he truly regretted what he had become. The solace to be found at the bottom of a bottle was nothing compared to the solace of being what he really wanted to be, the honorable man.

But he knew that there was no place for honorable men in Paris, not with the corruption, the pain, the suffering that as the man who dressed like a gentlemanly dandy walked along the street pipe smoking away. Top-hat placed at a jaunty angle on his head, his black hair was washed and clean and his mustache was clipped and he looked for all intents and purposes to be a wealthy, middle-class man going about his business in one of the most villainous streets in Paris, except nobody looked at him. None of the beggars or pickpockets so much as gave him a second-glance. For the most part they avoided even giving him the pleasure of a first glance, all knew who he was. He of plaid trousers and booted feet, of a red overcoat buttoned over his not too intimidatingly thick chest. But there was a strength in Louis Thenardier and it was why he could walk where he walked with so little heed for the general scum of the streets that he almost had a spring in his step.

That spring belied a certain painful quality that was only visible in his one real eye, the other was glass and lifeless aside from a small blue eagle that crouched with wings almost spread, it's head turning to one side. The design was a thing of beauty and it was a pity Louis had, had killed the craftsman when he was still a small boy as if it was the craftsman's fault for his father's folly. But Louis was a tired man, slowly moving into a middle age that only promised more of the same, the same tiring life that threatened at any moment to be capsized and smashed aside by one act, any one person with the guts could have attacked Louis and despite the men who walked behind him, who were strong enough, fast enough and certainly experienced enough to batter anyone who got too close. He felt as if it was one lucky strike away from death, one lucky slip.

Louis had struggled all of his life with destiny, with luck and the idea that his actions were already playing themselves out, that in the future he was not creating something new only reading from a book of pre-ordained literature that indicated he was 'destined' to live a life. He didn't like the idea that he had made his own luck. That he Louis Thenardier had not created all of it for himself. That God above had some secret plan for him as that fool Valjean would have him believe.

Louis simply lived day-to-day, he patrolled around the streets, he frequented bars and brothels and then he went home and sat up all night drinking staring silently at the bed where his daughter used to sleep, where his Eponine used to be, the bed was undisturbed as it often was. He was a fool for watching her bed expecting her one night to be under the covers asleep, so serene and so pretty. Louis was walking back to the house now.

A familiar shape stood at the door looking forlorn and dirty and Louis could only frown and it seemed his whole face slumped into a painful expression that only exacerbated his bad mood and caused him to grow wrathful. "Eponine Thenardier! I haven't hoird head or tail of ya for about three days.... I been worried 'bout you goirl..." the anger in his voice lacked a sting, it wasn't really all there. His heart just wasn't in it as it was when he was truly angry. Truth be told he was just happy to see her raggedy form oh how he wished she would wear some of the new clothes he bought for her....

"D'ya need money... or food or clothes? Did someone hoirt ya sweethart?"

Louis was just happy to see his daughter and to know she was alive was a feeling beyond compare.

[EPONINE THENARDIER]

Despite the street being busy as ever in the late spring sun, people seemed to part for Eponine as she wandered.  Very few even looked her in the eye, most prefering to look busy and not draw attention from the daughter of the notorious Thenardier.  Those that did glance received a small, warm smile before they scurried aside.  Eponine couldn't really blame them for their fear.  She knew well enough who and what her father was.  She had seen him do things, helped him do things, that struck her right down to her core.  Things no person should ever have to see or have rest on their conscience.

But what broke her heart the most was the memories, how things used to be.  Before Paris, before the inn went bankrupt.  Eponine knew she was only fooling herself to think her father hadn't been a criminal even then, but in her childish innocence, he had hung the moon.  He had showered her with gifts, fine clothes and dolls and hats.  Anything her young heart had desired.  And oh how he had praised her.  There was no doubt in her heart that her father had loved her.  "My beautiful French rose" he'd called her as her touched his finger to the end of her nose or lightly pinched her cheek, bringing her gap-toothed smile out every time.

Then came the hard times. Then came being poor, destitute. Then came Paris and Patron-Minette. And her eyes had been opened to the full horrors of what her father did to bring in money. As the family had wworked their way up in the criminal world, the gifts began again. The dresses and bonnets and brooches. But now, instead of seeing them as tokens of her father's affection, all Eponine could do was wonder which poor soul had given up their precious earnings, or worse, so that her father could buy it. Instead of feeling the soft cotton on skin, she could see the fear flashing in that poor peasant's eyes the first time she'd seen what her father did for a living. She didn't want his blood-bought gifts, and had told him as much the first time she left home. Even at just sixteen, Eponine could see the hurt behind the anger in his eyes when she yelled that she would never set foot in the house again. The only thing that steeled her resolve was the blood on his hands, the lives he had ruined.

Of course it hadn't been as easy as she had thought, and she still had 'Zelma to look out for at home. So every couple weeks, Eponine would return home, check on her sister, swipe a few coins from her father's stash to make it through the next couple weeks, and leave again. All the time trying to avoid him. She feared one of these days the pain in his voice would break through and she would stay. And she couldn't do that. She had to break free of his underworld, and she could not do that living under the same roof.

But today she had to see him. Her gait took on a more purposeful stride as she looked down at the gilt envelope in her hand, dirt from her fingers already tarnishing the bright paper. 'Eponine Thenardier.' She knew enough of her letters to be able to read her name in the flourished script across the front. It had to be a mistake. Or a forgery. Some plot by her father to win her back into the family. But this went far beyond a new dress or the promise a full hot meal. People like her just did not get invited to royal balls.

Eponine winced slightly at the anger in her father's voice, but defiantly raised her chin. If there was anything her father had taught her it was to never let anyone see you as weak. "I'm fine, Pere. I can take care of myself." At the mention of clothing, Eponine tugged her shawl over her bare shoulders. "No, Pere. I don't need anything."

Remembering her reason for returning, Eponine thrust the now thoroughly dirty envelope in front of her. "What is this? Did you have anything to do with this? Pere, what did you do?"

[msieurthernadier]

Louis allowed himself a monetary look at her. A moment just to admire his daughter and inwardly imagine how someone as downright ugly as his wife had given birth to such a beautiful thing. Eponine and her sister were frankly the only things he had left in the world, his wife was....well his wife and rather an annoying woman at that, part of him wished he'd never bedded the woman and just found someone else but perhaps if he hadn't then he wouldn't have what stood in front of him today.

The girl was all brown eyes and strong posture and curled up fists and a little ball of anger that almost caused a smile to tug across her father's lips. The way she spoke to him was nothing short of rude and he would have rather he be rude than guarded in her speech as so many around him were. Her words played across his mind like soft music and he wished that he could just reverse time and stop it all and change everything. He wanted his family back just as much as she did, but what he was now could never be simply forgotten. He was the father who had driven his own daughters off with his fury.

He was in the right mind to simply turn away and walk off and smoke his pipe as if nothing happened, he was in the wrong mind to thrust his bottom lip out and tell her that he missed her in the house and he'd rather like her back. But she knew as well as he did that he was much too proud and much too stubborn to ever admit especially in front of his 'men' that her leaving had even remotely phased him or that he'd even noticed.

Of course it was obvious in his one eye how very much he missed his little girl, his rose of France, running round the house shouting and squealing when he used to play little games with her and her sister. How much he missed buying her things and seeing her little face light up. How long would it be? Louis imagined. Till he could finally push all those memories, all those thoughts aside and simply cut her out of his life as he had cut so much out.

He raised his hand one finger pointed at her the rest of them curled into a tight, bony fist. His mouth opened to deliver a suitable lecture, an angry repose to her statement and a few choice follow up statements of his own as to his responsibility to her as her parent and her guardian and how much he loved her and wished she would come round more often and if she was safe and sound and those damnable revolutionaries better not have so much as looked at her romantically especially that Marius she was always following around.

Louis was silenced mid breath however by her showing of a letter. He took it from her grasp, not snatched merely reached forward and plucked it. He had no idea what any of it said. He could read and write a little but not so much as to... "Hey... Brainbox... yeah you ged over here." one of his men came running forward. "Read this fawr me..." He hated looking so... unintelligent in front of his own daughter but he had tried and though the basic idea was gleaned he needed confirmation.

As the letter was read to him he nodded and then when finished he dismissed the man and looked at his daughter, with no small amount of pride in his one eye that was contrasted by the dead, coldness of his glass one. Without even thinking he was closing in on Eponine and enfolded her in a tight embrace that hinted at hidden strength in his thin body. "Oh My dawghter... my sweet dawghter I am so proud a'ya." he wasn't even thinking as he held her and rocked her lightly from side to side he was genuinely so proud.

Breaking the embrace he turned and looked at the men who had followed him. "Do ya moind? I want some privacy with my Rose of Frawnce." he said not able to keep a smile off his face his men scampered off to a safer distance and he turned back and smiled lovingly and adoringly, any thought of anger or hurt that she had not returned earlier was vanquished by this pride in her. He stroked her cheek with clean fingers and smiled softly.

The accusation then sank in, had she accused him. Her own father of fixing the vote as to make it so that she won?! Louis almost bristled, his good will almost overran completely by anger, but then a wave of simple sorrow overtook his face and his expression sank from one of extreme happiness to one of distinct and acute, heartfelt pain.

How could he have fallen so far? To the point where his own daughter accused him of crimes he hadn't even committed was it so easy to simply blame him for good-fortune going her way? Perhaps Louis had been too careful and over-bearing with the girl, too over-zealous in spoiling her and now he was reaping the painful reward. She simply believed that he was responsible. "My dear... I could not... I did not do such a thing... however I'd be lying if I told you I didn't vote for ya myself...." he said looking at her sincerely.

Well it was hardly fair to tell her that whichever way he voted as did all of his gang and all of the people who owed him money.

[EPONINE THENARDIER]

Although her anger had been near a boiling point when she had walked through the door, Eponine could already feel it beginning to cool, as she saw the proud smile her father gave her. She balled her fists tighter, desperate to cling to it, needing its fire to protect her. It was that anger that strengthened the walls she'd built between her father and herself. She had carefully laid each brick, fired with her fury at him and her shame at what she had done alongside him. It had taken her a long time to finally make the walls high enough and strong enough that the hurt at leaving her family, her whole life, only rarely got through, and it was only a dull ache when it did. Without her anger, she feared her carefully laid defenses might crumble, leaving her at the mercy of her emotions and her memories. She would be vulnerable to her doting father once more, his kind words, his fine gifts. But most of all, her heart wouldst be treacherously exposed to the destruction it would receive when her father once again revealed the lengths her would go to for a sou. With everything else in her life, she was not sure her heart could survive the disappointment again.

And yet as her crossed the room to envelope her in his strong arms, Eponine made no attempt to stop him or retreat. She stood in his embrace, breathing deep the scent of his coat. It smelled of pipe smoke, just as it had when she was a child. All she had to do was close her eyes and she would be that little girl again, sitting on her father's lap as he counted down the day's profit or scampering away from him after 'Zelma and her stole his hat, laughing through the inn. A brick slipped from her wall, tumbling down and disappearing into dust, as if it had never been there in the first place. How easy it would be to just relax, return the embrace, come home and be his beautiful rose again. She wanted that so badly, to have somewhere to belong again. Another brick works.itself loose and plummets. But at the same time, a small voice told her she couldn't. She could never go home again.

No matter how much the look in her father's eye broke her heart. As her father's men quickly filed past her, as she could see was the pain in her father's face at her accusation. When she had first gotten the invitation, her mind had immediately jumped to it being a forgery. Then she thought perhaps her father had threatened people to rig the results, some grand plan he had concocted to give her an extravagant gift she couldn't possibly refuse. She had been seething when the thought that her father believed her so easily bought. But now those ideas withered under her father's gaze. Of course he hadn't forged it. As little Eponine could read and write, her father could do even less. Eponine didn't think there was anyone in Pere's employ that could have done the flowery script that adorned the gilt paper. That didn't mean he hadn't threatened anyone, although that would be a massive undertaking. Her anger cooled another degree and another brick fell from its place as he stroked her cheek, smiling proudly at her. For just a moment, she let herself believe they were just any father and daughter, let the fantasy in. Her mouth turned up in a smile, however briefly, and she leaned into his hand.

But only for a moment. She straightened up before the fantasy overwhelmed her anger and resolution. Her body tensed and her smile disappeared as quickly as it had come. After her father let go of her, she crossed her arms again, letting out a breath she didn't even know she was holding. "Pere, this is a joke. I can't go to a masquerade!" Her mind was spinning, trying to come to grips with all that had happened. A girl like her, who slept in alleyways and stole apples off carts in the market square, just does not go to a ball. What would the glittering other half of Paris say if she did show up? Would they laugh, tease her? Or simply look down their noses and turn away as they did when they saw her kind in the street? "This is just insane."