Neither know why they were chosen.

It wasn't because of the talents they possessed or the riches neither had. It wasn't because of their history - histories littered with broken dreams and promises. Nor was it their name. They were both plain; both just as regular as the other children in the boarding school he attended or the orphanages she frequented.

But magic has a way of working even in the most plain of situations and the world is full of magic that nobody except the chosen can see.

And they were the chosen.

When the rumors of a new magician grace Éponine Thénardier's ears she can do no more than smirk. Magicians come and go in this circus; they either tire of living a life confined to a room on a train or they simply cannot keep up.

"I've heard that he's the best in his field," a voice breaks through Éponine's thoughts and she hums in thought. "He blew Valjean away."

"Well it doesn't take much. These days the old man will accept anyone with a sad story and an even sadder talent," Éponine responds. Her hand hovers above a cup of tea and the spoon turns slowly - one would have to look closely to realize she isn't even touching it.

"Don't be bitter that he's finally found someone close to your level of talent."

"I'm not jealous," Éponine says too quickly. She had tensed unbeknownst to her, but she sat back, crossing her legs. "I'm not jealous, Courfeyrac," she continues, shrugging a shoulder as nonchalantly as she can manage.

"Your cards say otherwise," Courfeyrac whispers quietly.

"Don't trust everything the cards say."

"This is where you'll be performing."

The older gentleman, his hair salt and peppered by age, motioned to the main ring in the tent. Without the occupants filling the tent, the silence was suffocating, but Enjolras felt comfortable.

"It's a bit… small don't you think? What about the main tent?"

"Ah well everyone must start somewhere. I'd hate to put you in the main tent only to have you leave after a few performances."

"I don't plan on leaving, sir."

"Nobody ever does," Jean Valjean replies with a hearty laugh. "Once you get the hang of your act and you impress enough people we will see what we can do. For right now the main act is the lion tamer, and it's selling tickets well enough."

Although Enjolras tries to hide his disappoint, he can't help but feel let down. He'd assumed that when Jean Valjean approached him after his cabaret act in Paris that it was for a main job, not just an illusionist in a secondary tent. Jean notices the look on his face and moves close to clap a hand on his shoulder.

"You'll be a main act in no time. Everyone must start somewhere."

"I suppose you're right," Enjolras replies, though not without a heavy sigh.

The night before the circus opens is always buzzing with energy. It's a new experience for Enjolras, but he has to admit that it makes his adrenaline rush.

He stands outside of the train, absently glancing from here and there as stagehands dart pass with buckets of meat to feed the lions or clowns bounce to and fro.

"Are you going to the opening party?" a voice from above asks.

Enjolras glances up and in the setting sun he can see no more than a shadow and a lit cigarette.

"Party?" he questions, confusion written on his face. From the top of the train, a figure drops down. He's clad in the typical clothes of a worker - a cap on his dirty curls and a waistcoat that is covered in mud, or at least Enjolras hopes it's mud.

"Yeah. As soon as the moon is in the sky we all gather at the bonfire to celebrate another destination. It's usually a good time and considering that you're the newbie I'm sure that everyone would love to make your acquaintance. Name's Grantaire by the way. R to circus folk like us though."

He holds out his hand and Enjolras reluctantly returns the handshake. "Sébastien Enjolras, though I'd prefer just Enjolras if you don't mind."

Grantaire nods and pulls his hand away. He lights another cigarette and as he holds it between his teeth, offers one to Enjolras who turns it down.

"So Valjean found you in a Paris speakeasy I hear?"

"That's correct. After my set he bought me a drink and offered me a job."

"Is it what you imagined?" Grantaire questions, leaning against the dusty train.

Enjolras pauses to glance around and sighs. "I didn't expect much to tell you the truth. It's just… different."

Grantaire's name is called from a distance and the man groans. "I gotta get back to work but remember the party tonight. You'll be able to meet everyone and probably get rip roaring drunk before our first day and trust me, that's the best way to start the circuit."

He runs off before Enjolras can answer, but the thought of a party weighs heavy in his mind. He needs sleep. He needs practice. He needs to impress Jean Valjean so he can be the main act.

Too much is depending on that.

The party has been going full force since before the moon rose high in the sky, but Éponine is just arriving. She wears a slinky gown in her favorite dark plum and her dark skin looks as if it's been kissed by the sun. As she enters the largest tent, the smell of alcohol and various treats hits her nose and she smiles.

"You're finally here!" a voice exclaims. In seconds, Éponine is being dragged to a drink cart by a tiny, petite blonde. The contortionist, Cosette, immediately grabs a glass of wine and hands it off to Éponine who graciously accepts.

"You know not to hold your breath for me," Éponine says, taking a drink.

"Well yes, but Marius is too enamored by the new magician to keep me company."

Éponine perks up when she hears of the magician. "He's here?" she asks, trying her best to act as casual as possible.

It had been years ago that Éponine had been Valjean's main act in the circus. She had spent her childhood training for it and had become known around the circus circuit as one of the best. Under the stage name Jondrette, she had wowed kings and queens and the poorest of the poor. But as she'd grown older, she had grown tired.

Her abilities weren't illusions - no Éponine did her best to hide that from anyone on the outside.

It had grown complicated hiding her real abilities yet making it seem as if her magic was still real. And as Valjean took a notice to this, he promoted her to a ringleader. While it was much less testing on her body and mind, she still held a bit of jealousy for each magician that filled her shoes afterwards.

Though she would never admit it.

"Of course he's here. You know they'd never allow him to rest the night before his first show," Cosette says sweetly, nodding her head to the other side of the ring where a group was hovering. From the middle, a flash of light appeared, and a dove flew upwards. There was a thunderous applause then and Éponine rolled her eyes.

"Amateur."

Cosette giggles and follows after Éponine as she approaches the group. In the middle stands the new magician, carefully shuffling a deck of cards. She watches closely, and every move is deliberate and smooth. By the time he has pulled the correct eight of hearts from the cigarette Grantaire had rolled that morning, the crowd is completely enamored but Éponine can feel nothing but fear.

She stands solid in her spot, barely noticing when Courfeyrac approaches she and Cosette.

This new magician is no magician at all.

He is like her.

"He's amazing!" Courfeyrac cheers. Éponine nods in agreement and her eyes never leave the blonde in the middle who gathers up his supplies. He's immediately swooped up by Grantaire and Combeferre and the two lead him away. She wants to follow. She needs to follow, but she can't bring herself to move.

"Are you alright, Éponine?" Cosette asks, carefully touching Éponine's arm to bring her out of the spell.

"Oh… yes. Yes, I'm fine. He was just… very good," she explains, quickly downing the rest of the red wine in her glass. "What's his name?"

"He just introduced himself as Enjolras," Courfeyrac says, glancing over his shoulder at the man in question. "He didn't really say much about himself but Grantaire got a few drinks in him and convinced him to show us a bit of his show. He's good, Éponine. Very good."

She nods and excuses herself from the two. They continue to chat while she heads back to the table where the wine is flowing freely. As she reaches for a bottle, her hand collides with another and she glances up.

Enjolras.

"I'm sorry," she says quickly.

"No, allow me." He pours the rich, red wine into a glass and hands it to her. "You must be the ring leader. Jondrette, am I right? I was told you're always late."

"I prefer to make my own schedule," she says with a smile. "It's Éponine though. You must be Enjolras."

He nods and takes his own glass, immediately taking a sip.

"Your act is good," she continues, eyeing him up and down. He's very well put together and she wonders where he comes from. It's easier for Musichetta, who can look into the past and glimpse toward the future, but she's on bed rest until the baby is born and the party is no place for an expecting mother. "Who did you train under?"

Enjolras's eyes grow big, not expecting a question of that sort. "I… nobody," he quickly says. "I'm self taught. My parents expected a doctor or a lawyer for a son, instead they got one who can pull a rabbit from a hat."

"I imagine they're proud."

"Oh yes. Proud enough to cut me from their wills and their lives."

When he smiles, Éponine assumes it's alright for her to laugh and soon he joins in, his laugh a hearty chuckle. Even though the fear is still very present in her mind, she feels at ease with this new comer. Besides, he knows nothing about her.

"You used to be the magician, am I right?" he asks, absently taking a step closer toward her.

"Yes. Valjean had better things in mind for me though."

"I remember your act," he notes, much to her displeasure. "You turned a cat into a lion. It was marvelous. Never quite figured that one out."

"Every good magician has their secrets."

"I'm sure you have quite your share."

His statement leaves Éponine at a loss and she glances down into the liquid in her cup. Enjolras can sense the tension and he clears his throat.

"It was lovely meeting you, Éponine. How about a toast, to a wonderful first show. And to the future, whatever obstacles may come," he offers.

She pauses, the cogs turning in her mind but she soon smiles.

"May we jump them easily," she adds before clinking her glass against him.

The noise in the tent is almost unbearable, filled with music and laughter but as she stands there, face to face with another person who is just like her she cannot help but be enveloped in silence.

She has the upper hand, but for how long?

It's later that evening, perhaps early morning, and Enjolras cannot find the will to sleep. He stares at the ceiling in his personal tent and tries to count sheep. He levitates objects in the room, hoping that his mind will tire but nothing works.

He isn't sure if it's his nerves or his excitement, or perhaps that he'd found someone like himself.

Enjolras had doubted the authenticity of the circus but had been immediately won over by Jean Valjean. But through the night he had met various people whose abilities were not the typical carnival con. They were real. And he was in awe at them all.

The man Courfeyrac could read his future in a deck of cards and could tell him whatever he wanted to know. Jehan saw words in the stars above, twinkling clear and loud to nobody else but him.

It was amazing.

Finally, Enjolras felt at home. He felt safe. But he still felt wary.

He had been warned by his mentor, a man known only as Lemarque, that the day would come where he met one just as he was. One who would be his ultimate downfall. One who could and would destroy him.

The fear had not left his system since he'd laid eyes on the strange and beautiful Éponine. Despite seeing her years ago in the same circus, he had never anticipating being so very close to her.

But Enjolras brushed the thought away from his mind - it was too soon. There was no way this innocent woman would be the one Lemarque spoke of.

With his eyes finally closing, Enjolras can see none other than her raven hair, twisting in the wind as she spins in the same revealing dress she'd worn to the party.

And as he falls off into slumber he can't quite make out if the body she dances around is his, though the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach tells him to be careful.