Ballet Shoes, Angel's Hair and Revolution (A Les Misérables fanfiction)

Chapter 68.

A.N./

Dear Readers!

it has been so long! I bet some of you might have even lost hope of me ever writing again, and if im honest so did I. The pandemic has hit hard, and for a moment there I was close to giving up on this but I promised I wouldn't so here I am. I've been working on this chapter for months, not being able to move on, but yesterday one great @TheboredWriter1 has found my story again, and wrote some wonderful comments, and somehow that gave me the energy I lacked. so here you go everyone! This story is for all of you - let's get right to it.

I hope y'all are safe and loved.

lots of love,

Wiki xx

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Chapter 68.

Sunday 17th June 1832

'I can't fucking believe this is happening.'

I muttered through my teeth, pulling back the silver-blue curtain that covered the royal carriage's windows. Notre Dame de Paris loomed over our head in its full glory and the sun shone brightly upon it, but we were bathed in its cool shadow. I don't think I ever felt so small, so hopeless, so observed by God himself.

Caroline and Clementine giggled at my vulgarity, which caused Marie to shush them and send me one of her icy scolding gazes. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at her, nauseous at the thought of what was about to happen. Louise reached out her gloved hand and squeezed mine, and even through the layers of silk I could sense she was trying to encourage me to be positive about all this mess I have found myself in.

'It's going to be alright, Victorie,' Louise whispered.

'How the fuck is it going to? For God's sake, this is my third wedding this month!' I shout-whispered, almost laughing maniacally at the cruel trick fate appeared to be playing on me, 'weren't we fucking supposed to avoid it?!'

'I know we did, but father...'

'Father should be dead by now!' I exclaimed, perhaps a little too loudly, but to my excuse, I was not holding on well, I was on the verge of a panic attack. I wasn't going to lose control, not today.

Deep down in my heart I hoped for a miracle, a fantasy I've been replaying in my head over and over. I imagined that my darling Courfeyrac would show up out of nowhere and rescue me in a romantic manner, perhaps whisk me away on a white horse and take me away. But this was real life, not one of Sir Walter Scott's novels, no one would come to rescue me. Not that I usually needed to be rescued; normally I would even refuse being rescued but today, I had the gut feeling that this once I could not save myself. And the more I longed for my husband to come rescue me, the more I knew that miracles weren't real and that in just a few short minutes I would be married to Prince Albert of Sweden.

'What do you mean father should be dead?' Asked Caroline, nervously fingering the trim of her peach gown. I saw the fear darkening her blue eyes and I didn't know what to say. I felt lost, and oh god the seams on my satin gloves were scratching my elbows.

'Don't worry, girls, Victorie is just nervous, she's talking nonsense' Marie spoke, desperately trying to calm my sisters but I couldn't handle sugar-coating today even if it made me sound like a horrible person.

'I will bloody well say what I want,' I argued, 'if our father is going to die Care and Clem should be ready, for the consequences that will follow.'

'If you ask me, I think the consequences and the insanity of this has already begun,' whispered Louise, 'I'm not sure if this wedding is even legal.'