ADIEU » LES MISÉRABLES | ✓

PROLOGUE

"Please."

The sight before him was a pitiful one to behold. Trembling hands clutched at blood-stained fabric. Damp skin gleamed sickly in the light of the oil lamp. 

All he could do was stand and stare. Wonder how so much could have transpired in the span of a single night. Numbly marvel at the fragility of life. 

The baby was a wailing mess of blankets and blood and tears, but she held her so gently, so lovingly, even amidst all of her pain. Life and death, hurt and joy, all crammed into the small frame of a woman. He had never seen anything more jarring.

She looked up at him, her dark eyes imploring, and he squeezed her hand - a silent reassurance that he would do anything for her, as always. Incapable of forming any more words, she fell back onto her pillow, shuddered violently, and -

That was how she died. In the middle of a plea.

___

His daughter, he realized sadly, had inherited nearly all of her mother's features. Her skin, white as pearls, was his, but her nose, eyes, and hair were entirely her mother's. She was midnight blue and stardust and quite possibly the most beautiful thing he had ever beheld.

He often thought it a great pity that she had to live in the Court of Miracles, where gypsies and unemployed migrants resided, surrounded by the dead. But then again, he couldn't imagine her anywhere else. There was a ferocity and fire within her that matched those of the gypsies, and the streets were dangerous for people like them.

She was trained to be a bareback rider because no one else could handle the horses like she could. There was magic in her touches; with her, the wildest of horses turned docile. 

She took to performing circus tricks on her mare Melanie in exchange for a bit of money. At the end of the day, she would sit quietly beside him and count her earnings with her pale, dirt-flecked hands. Sometimes, she would climb up to the top of the big tree with low-hanging branches and take in the view; the bright colored tent flaps, the slate gray of tombstones, the lush green of trees. 

That was how she grew up, in a world of magenta and yellow, of mud and dirt, of horses and hay.  A world filled with song and dance; a wild and separate world, beautiful in its own way.  

___

[ AUTHOR'S NOTE ]

Hello! Thank you for reading through this prologue :) After a lot of debating, I've decided to change the plot of my original story! Claudine is still Claudine, but now she has a more interesting background! Remember to vote/comment/add to your reading list if you liked it!

Cheers,
Nat 🍃