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“Time to get up your majesty!” Jolly called out as he pulled open the curtains and flooded Grantaire’s room with sun light.

“Don’t call me that.” The young prince grumbled as he shoved his face deeper into his pillow.

“No can do your majesty.” Jolly laughed again with a teasing voice. Having been the manservant to Grantaire for about 12 years, the two were close friends despite their difference in rank. This close relationship was useful in situations like this; only Jolly knew how to cure the prince’s royal hangover.

“It’s to early for this.” Grantaire yawned as he began to sit up. “Damn. My head is pounding.”

“That’s what you get for blacking out again last night.” Jolly chided. He brought over a wooden tray and set it down near his friend before handing him a cup full of tea with a splash of cream. “You need to be up and ready to go in 20 minutes.

“For what” The dark-haired boy sipped his tea.

“You have a meeting with the council.” Jolly said as he walked over to the large walk-in closet and began choosing Grantaire’s clothes for the day.

“What did I do this time?”

“I’m not sure.” Jolly called out from the closet.



Grantaire walked into the council room, head held high and shoulders back. He had been taught from the moment he was born that if he had bad posture then no one would take him seriously. Despite all the training and work he had done to act princely and regal, people still refused to listen to him. Grantaire was just the joke younger brother who wasn’t even first in line for the crown and would likely die before he even got the chance to be king.

Grantaire nodded to the two soldiers stationed at the door and they pulled the large wooden doors open.

“Gentlemen.” Grantaire said with a smile, trying to hide his hangover in pleasantries.

“You’re late.” His father, the king, frowned from his spot on his thrown.

“I suppose I am.” The prince smirked.

“We definitely made the right decision.” One of the council men whispered to the king. Grantaire ignored him. The king gave a small nod before he turned his attention back to his son.

“Grantaire.” He started. “As you know you are the second in line for this thrown. You will not rule until your brother has perished.”

“Really. I was not aware.” Grantaire joked. No one in the room was amused.

The king continued. “We have decided it will be best for you and our alliance with the kingdom of Freverton if you went to live there and eventually become King as the current king does not have an heir.”

This caught Grantaire’s attention. “Move to Freverton?”

“Precisely. We have already completed the negotiation and your carriage will leave the castle at noon today. Good luck with you travels. Council adjourned.” The King finished and everyone began standing up to leave.

Grantaire’s whole world felt out of focus. He could hear voices and sounds but nothing was making sense. He was leaving? He would be king? And Freverton of all places!

Freverton had been in the news lately for some time. The current king was notorious for his cruelty and harsh treatment of his subjects. This had sparked a fever or small revolts and revolutions throughout the land. Many kings like, Grantaire’s father, were worried the propaganda would spread to their regime but luckily it had not happened quite yet.

Grantaire was snapped back to reality by a strong hand grabbing onto his arm. The prince whirled around to see a frantic looking Jolly behind him.

“Come on!” His friend said. “We have so much to prepare before we leave.”


“And so, my fellow citizens. It is for us the people to decide what will become of our future! We will not stand idly by as the monarchy brings in yet another stuck-up rich boy to control us. He will no doubt be worse than the last!” Enjolras paced back and forth through the cafe as he delivered his speech to the eager ears of his friends. “We must stop his reign before it begins. Another riot perhaps?”

“We can’t risk another one quite yet. They last one ended quite violent.” Combeferre said from his place at a table where he had been taking notes.

“A march perhaps?” Courfeyrac offered.

“Yes! A march! A march against the monarchy!” Enjolras said passion radiating from his being. “Everyone being thinking of ideas for promotion and outreach and we will share them next week. Meeting adjourned.” He finished.

“How many people do you think we can expect?” Enjolras questioned as he sat down next to his two best friends. Though the meeting had officially ended, to Enjolras, the revolutionary talk never needed to end.

“Hundreds. Maybe thousands. If we can get the agricultural faction on board. That would be a game changer.” Combeferre said as he continued writing things down.

“Do you think maybe we should give the new prince a chance? I mean he hasn’t even started ruling yet. Couldn’t we try to get him on the side of the people?” Courfeyrac tried.

“No.” Said the blond. “Men like that can never change. Someone without the moral compass to know that the whole monarch system is wrong cannot be swayed to join our cause.”

They sat in silence for a second before Courf changed the subject. “A friend of mine, Jolly, is coming into town soon. He’s always been into social justice and stuff. I was thinking of bringing him to a meeting.”

“The more people the better.” Enjolras said. “The more people, the greater the change.”