Hello all! I hope you enjoy the first chapter of Revolution of the Heart. This had been nagging at my mind for a week so I had to write it.

Disclamer: I don't own Les Miserables. That great honour goes to Victor Hugo. I also don't own what I've based my fic on, that belongs to Jeanne-Marie Le Prince de Beaumont, Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve (who created the original version) and to Disney. I bet you can't guess what it is.

On with the story!

"Run boy run!"

Enjolras ran as fast as his legs could carry him. He had to save her, he just had to. He knew not why but his heart and hope dropped when she left his lodgings. It was only later when Combeferre came to his quarters to inform him of that she had run off into the snow. Enjolras thought over his outburst at her and to his mind he was not in the wrong. But according to Courfeyrac he should have considered her point too, as well as her curiosity at such an odd object to be found in such a place.

Joly had been the one who got through to their leader. He, having heard of her past while she was attended to by Feuilly, had decided to tell his leader of what had befallen her in her life. Joly was also the one to get her to open up to the others, even encouraging her to venture out of her room.

But now, Enjolras was determind to find her, hopefully unharmed by any that lurked around their lodgings and the forest that surrounded it, and to bring her back with him He could still hear Jean's voice calling out to him as he descended the stairs to the large oak door at the front of their dwelling.

"Run boy run!"

Jean may be a man full of romantic notions, no doubt he was a match for Grantaire and his womanising ways, but he was right to shout such a thing after the young leader. The rest of the group had watched as the infamous red jacket disappeared and was swallowed up by the white swirls of powder that fell over Paris – the men's beloved Patria – and that of the small areas around the capital.

The snow did not aid Enjolras as he desperately tried to find her. He was, however, glad that he was warm despite being buffeted by the winter weather. November had brought with it churlish winds and blanketed regions in thick layers of snow and ice. Enjolras search for how long, he did not know. The snow was starting to soak him but he continued his search for her. Then he heard it. The sound of a scream in the distance and the sound of vicious growling.

Wolves.

These, Enjolras knew, were not the typical wolves that prowled the streets of Paris, that hungered for intoxication and the pleasures of a woman's touch, but those that nature had made to rip flesh and fear on journeys through woodland areas. His legs carried him as fast as was physically possible for the blonde male. The sound of growling was getting closer and closer as he quickly closed the distance between him, them and her.

At last he broke through a throng of barren trees and evergreens to find a horse caught by its reigns on a branch, encircled by wolves. On the ground not far away lay a mound of brown, eyes full of fear and pain seen behind damp windswept hair. It was her. Enjolras did not hesitate as he saw a wolf bite her leg, another scream emitting from her lips as he had first heard through the forest. He grabbed the mangy creature and threw it off her and into a nearby tree. He snarled at the rest of the pack, but they wouldn't take it.

A few minutes passed and Enjolras was panting, exhausted from the cold and the injuries he'd sustained from the wolves. She had managed to reach her horse and free him from the branch. He watched her look back at him before he collapsed into the freezing powder blanket. The last thing he saw was a flurry of brown and orbs filled with liquid chocolate before black and silence met him.

"This world isn't meant for you"

These words repeated themselves in his head as he awoke from his dream of blonde haired woman and a shining light. These words had been the last he'd heard before he was bound to his lodgings. He hadn't left them for years now. He thought her to be a sorceress at first, but even at the tender age of eleven his rational mind doubted this very much so. As a person of faith he believed an angel had punished him for God only knows why.

Enjolras moaned in pain as he tried to move. Upon opening his eyes he saw Gavroche perched on the arm of his chair, staring at him with wide eyes.

"He's awake!"

A collective sigh was breathed by the rest of the group of men.

"Thank you mademoiselle for bringing him home safely." Combeferre said with a small bow to the right of Enjolras. Looking to the left of his chair the injured leader saw her sitting on the floor with a bowl of water, a cloth and long strips of white cloth next to her. She blushed slightly at the thanks bestowed on her.

"It was nothing. You could say I have now repaid my debt to the master."

At this she turned to look at Enjolras. She gave him a small nod and dipped the cloth into the bowl of water. Enjolras watched her every move and finally noticed bandages just under the hem of her torn dress.

"She must have done that while I was unconscious." He thought as she shifted her position and moved the damp cloth towards his left arm.

"Hold still, this may sting a little." She warned him, before pressing the cloth lightly to his wounds.

Enjolras flinched with the pain that the cloth, that she, caused him.

"Hey! Be wary of my wounds. I did get them thanks to you after all."

She frowned at him and tried to clean his wound again, but he shunned her.

"You wouldn't have got those wounds if you hadn't shouted at me."

"I wouldn't have shouted at you if you hadn't sneaked into my room and looked through my plans and touched my rose."

"Well you should learn to listen to others and control your temper and judgements."

The room was silent. The group of men had slightly shrunk back from Enjolras, with Joly hiding partially behind Combeferre. Grantaire and Gavrouche looked at her with awe, a grin spreading on the young boy's face.

"Now that girl has a wit to stand up to the master." Grantaire muttered under his breath.

"So, let me clean your wound, please." She asked Enjolras.

He looked at the cloth and then her. He snarled but held out his injured arm to her, only flinching slightly at the pressure placed on it.

"Thank you… for… for saving my life." she said after a quite moment. She gave him a small smile.

"You're welcome." Enjolras replied, his lips twitching slightly. Not quite a smile, but close enough. More than the other men had seen for a long time.

Gavrouche couldn't believe his eyes. She had been able to argue against Enjolras without fear of him. She really hit the mark with him too; it was very funny to the young boy. As he and the others slipped out the room, leaving the two cold and injured persons alone, he thought back to the day he'd first seen her in their lodgings. He'd been one of the first to see her and Joly hadn't believed him, neither had Grantaire. Before he went to sleep for the night, the young boy sought after Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Jean. He found them in the kitchen, talking in hushed tones.

"She could be the one, mon amis. The one to break the spell." Courfeyrac said.

"That she could. A little bit of romantic touches here and there and we could be free at last." Jean stated.

"Ah, but we must be careful and plan this out. We may only have a few months left but we must be patient." Combeferre warned his two friends.

"Hey monsieurs."

"Hello there Gavrouche." Jean replied upon seeing the little boy.

"Can you tell me how she came her, to us and Enjolras? I really wanna know so I can tell the others."

The "others" whom Gavrouche spoke of were his two younger brothers. They were usually seen with Gavrouche, roaming the lodgings or daring to brave the outside world (but never the forest surrounding it).

"Okay little 'Rouche. We shall tell you the tale." Courfeyrac gestured Gavrouche to sit by his side.

Now dear readers, the tale that these three men tell our young Gavrouche starts with a blonde haired angel by the name of Fantine punishing a young Enjolras for his selfish and mindless ways. He focused too much on what he demeaned important, the "higher goals" in life. He stilled believed them now after ten years. Ever since that incident ten years previously, Enjolras and his fellow Amis de l'ABC have kept within their lodgings, cut off from the world and their beloved Patria. Hope was lost to them as the years slowly passed by, a rose slowly dying in Enjolras's room that was given to him by the graceful Fantine. Now this tale does not lie with these men. Oh no, this tale must now skip back to just after the epilogue, to the first chapter, and to the grand capital of Paris. Here we shall begin the tale truly, that start of how a girl came upon the Amis de l'ABC lodgings and how we came to this winter's events.

"Well 'Rouche, she came from Paris, where she lived with her father. But our mademoiselle didn't have a wondrous life from what Joly has told me. No, our Eponine had a hard life in Paris."

As Courfeyrac spoke, a chime sounded, signalling that the eleventh hour had arrived. Joly peered into the kitchen to find his remaining friends amidst a story.

"Courfeyrac, it's time 'Rouche went to sleep. It has been a long day for all of us."

Gavrouche sighed and went to bed, knowing that Joly would make sure he did.

"We shall continue the tale tomorrow, we promise." Jean whispered to the little boy as he left for bed.

"You better."

Enjolras paced his room, back and forth in front of the balcony doors, keeping his gaze fixed upon his rose secured in the bell jar. He stopped his pacing and, turning his gaze to his left arm, thought back to this evening's events. She had cleaned and bandaged his wounds and even argued against him. To say he'd been stunned was a bit of an understatement. Not even his friends or Gavrouche dared to stand up against him and his judgements. But this girl, this girl now clad in a torn dress with eyes of liquid chocolate, had done just that. When she'd gotten up to leave the front parlour she'd stumbled. Of course, being observant and thankful for her service, had offered his uninjured arm to her. She had taken it and he had walked her back to her room where Feuilly waited for her. She had thanked him yet again and disappeared behind her door, the sounds of Feuilly getting in a flap the only sound Enjolras heard as he retreated to his own room.

"Maybe… maybe there is… hope. Yes, there may be hope for us, me, after all."

Enjolras finally fell slipped in the land of slumber, his head full of brown and liquid chocolate instead of that blonde angel.

On the other side of the Amis's lodgings, a young woman with a bandaged leg drifted off to sleep, all the while replaying the memories of the evening in her head. Her last thought before the sandman claim her dream was how the eyes of the sketch she'd seen earlier that day in his room looked akin to the Beast's own eyes.

A/N: Now then, I hope all you lovely readers enjoyed that first chapter to my new fanfic. Don't worry to those who read Kinkan Academy Garden for I shall not abandon it, for it is my precious first child of the fanfic world.

Thank you all ever so much for reading. Please review and spread the word.

Looking forward to the next chapter!

love Franny xx :)