C'EST LA GUERRE | LES MISÉRABLES

III.

Christmas came and went at a speed Alexandria in particular liked. When the sun began to set on the twenty-fifth, a smile teased at her lips.

The new year started unknowingly to the girls, who had all jumped in fright when fireworks and cheers filled the street at midnight. They had chosen to work later at the dressmakers, and both Sabine and Belle managed to prick their fingers on their sewing needles.

It was now the fourth of January, and Alexandria sat at her work desk, as usual. Casual comments were thrown about as the girls sewed, this time commissioned to create luxurious gowns for a New Year's ball. Most of the girls suggested creating their own dresses and sneaking in. Alexandria curled her nose in the most distasteful expression the others had ever seen.

The movement made her sniff, and she stifled a cough into her elbow. Despite the snow melting into sludge less than twenty four hours after Christmas Eve, it was still unbearably cold. And due to Alexandria being cooped up in impeccable palaces all of her life, her immune system was practically nonexistent.

Her coughing continued, so much so that the other girls glanced at each other in concern. They knew Alexandria to be poorly, but she had never been this obvious with her spluttering. Véronique pursed her lips, and moved a hand to rest upon Alexandria's forearm.

The blonde jumped in surprise, whipping her head around to reveal puffy eyes, a red nose and cracked lips. Her hands, calloused and trembling, clutched a scrap of purple satin as though it was the only thing keeping her alive.

"'Dria, I think it's best if you go home." Véronique soothed, her thumb softly stroking the skin that had been exposed when Alexandria rolled up her sleeves. The blonde shook her head fiercely, sniffling and attempting to smile in a way that only she could pull off.

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine." Alexandria tried to reassure the girls, but her words got to the best of her as she suddenly sprinted out the door of the sewing room and out onto the streets. Her hand was clamped over her mouth as she retched, thankful to not be sick all over the damp cobblestones.

Her entire body trembled as she stopped gagging, her head swirling as she tried to adjust her posture. Her back clicked uncomfortably, having become accustomed to be bent over so frequently.

She inhaled deeply, shuddering as she did so. Her body weight fell against the wooden door frame, and she had to shut her eyes to calm her whirring mind.

It wasn't a surprise she was ill, but this time it was a worry if she would even make it home. Her eyes blurred, expanding the fractals of snow into whirlpools of crystal white.

She rubbed at her eyes frantically, as though her hands had the ability to heal her bout of illness. A pang in her heart feared it was the dreaded tuberculosis, but Alexandria pushed that thought away. It was a simple cough, a consequence of living under privilege. Too much privilege, it seems.

Knowing the girls would be focusing their prying eyes on the blonde, Alexandria made an effort to stagger away from their eyesight. Her feet struggled to maintain a straight line, disobeying her brain by sending her in swaying movements.

It took all of a few metres before Alexandria groaned and collapsed onto the cobblestones.

•••

A warm light was the first thing Alexandria registered. She was convinced that she was dead. That notion was almost peaceful, and she cosied into the golden aura and penetrable warmth.

Then the sharp smell of wine struck her and she bolted upwards in confusion. In doing so, she whacked her forehead against someone else's.