Les Misérables - OneShots

Prince!Enjolras

One thing he hated the most: pretending to be happy when he felt like throwing up.

Alexandre Enjolras, son of Louis-Philippe, the king of France. He hated every single second. After he was captured by the guards, they never turned away from him.

He was sitting in the Café, minding his own business with Combeferre and Courfeyrac. They were inseparable. Only Combeferre knew Enjolras' secret. The others wouldn't understand.

Guards stormed the Café and took him with them. Ever since he had stopped talking. It has been many years since then. But he never lost his focus on his Revolution.

It had to happen. And he knew that. He hasn't talked to Combeferre ever since they took him away. But he knew that Combeferre would carry on with the plan for the Revolution. He promised it.

There was a loud noise on the window. Enjolras opened the window and Combeferre threw another stone in his face. "Combeferre, that hurt." "I'm sorry. But you just need to know. We're ready.", he half-yelled, not to alarm the guards surrounding Enjolras and the King.

Enjolras took the chance and climbed out of the window and fell into the bush. Combeferre helped him up and together they ran as fast as they could to the Café. He missed it being free. After a few minutes they reached the Café. It looked exactly the way it looked before. The boys cheered when they saw their leader again. It had been years after all.

The gunpowder was ready, the guns were clean. The flag was ready to be waved. Feuilly handed him his revolutionary pin back and now they had to wait. General Lamarques funeral wasn't until ten in the morning.

The next day had arrived. Enjolras was sitting next to his family on the thrones. But his pin stayed unnoticed. The Revolution has begun. Enjolras jumped out of his seat and ran towards the casket of the General.

It has begun and now everything is going to change.
That's what he thought too until the 6th June. He was standing in front of the National Guard, they were ready to shoot their muskets. Grantaire stumbled in and stood next to him. "I'm one of them. Vive la République!" Then he looked at Enjolras and whispered "Do you permit it?" All Enjolras could do, was nod.

Grantaire took his hand and the bullets left the muskets. It was too late when they realized they just shot the King's only son. It was too late. Enjolras took his last breath and expired.

(AN: I kinda feel like all my stories are a big flop 😂 also this was so painful to write. The next one should be a much happier one.)