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It comes as no surprise to Grantaire when he sees the man, wrought in the colors of fire and wheat and sunshine, and falls for him instantly. Men always want what they cannot have, and why should gods be any different?
It's only later that Grantaire learns who he is. Enjolras, child of the harvest, a god in his own right with dominion over vegetation and life itself. When he learns his name, Grantaire laughs until he feels sick.
Could there be anyone further out of reach for the god of the dead?