The Darkest Night Will End

Prologue

Saint Michelle, Paris, December 21, 1823.

A young boy with a gleam of mischief in his eyes darted through the streets of Saint Michelle.

"I'll see you tomorrow Felix!" His friend called.

"Bye Ferre!" The boy yelled back.

Felix Enjolras did not belong in the slums of Saint Michelle, he was actually from one of the better towns across the city, but that wasn't anyone else's business.

He liked it better down there in the slums, because there he could play in his fantasies.

Felix ran down the next street, dodging around the now opening doors of the workhouses, "At the end of the day you're another day older, and that's all you can say for the life of the poor." The song spilled into the streets with the workers.

The boy paid no mind to the song, instead focusing on trying to get home, less late than usual. And for once he actually wanted to be out of the snow and the cold.

William Coste was tired after a long day at work, and all he wanted to do was go home and see his sibling.

But his plan was delayed when he went into the cold, just to be hit by a blur of red that was a 13 year old.

He stumbled back as the kid hit the slushy cobble and skidded down a few feet.

"Oh, goodness! I'm so sorry, are you alright?" He asked scrambling to help the boy up.

The kid winced when he put weight on his leg, "I don't know."

William quickly checked him over and saw a large scrape on the side of his leg. "That looks pretty bad. Do you live close?"

Felix shook his head, "No, but I'll be fine." He pulled away from Williams' grip and nearly fell over.

"How about you come back to my flat, we'll fix you up, you can have dinner and then be on your way." William offered.

He nodded "I'm Felix Enjolras."

"William Coste, come on, it isn't too far."

Ten minutes later the pair had made it up to William's second floor flat.

"Sit down, I'll get started on dinner and Jack should be home soon to fix you up."

Felix sat down and looked around the sparsely decorated flat.

One of the walls had peeling paint and there were stains on the ceiling.

There was only the table and chairs, the squashed kitchen, and two doors leading to a bathroom and he assumed a bedroom.

It was far from the kind of home the boy was used to.

"So what's a boy dressed like you doing in Saint Michelle?" William asked as he pulled a small amount of meat from the paper wrapping.

"I like it better down here Monsieur, no one can make me do lessons down here. No one can force me to wear the clothes they want me to wear!"

"Just William, and it is certainly much better where you're from."

He lit the small oven as the door opened, "Willy I'm ho-ome!" came a sing-song voice.

"Hey Jack." He called back.

Felix became ignored as a child with braids flounced into the flat and stood on their tiptoes to hug William.

The boy noted that while they did wear a skirt they were wearing a man's overcoat.