Chapter 3

The captain had left Grantaire, meaning he was all alone. Without his presence, Grantaire’s anger disappeared. It wasn’t like he wasn’t angry anymore, but he was tired. His head hurt and every movement or every sound made it only worse. His whole body protested against him.

He hated the captain who had stood there so comfortable while discussing the death of many people. He hated the smirk when their eyes met, like Enjolras knew Grantaire was at his mercy. But the sun had lit up his hair and turned him into the god he thought he was.

Grantaire wasn’t sure whether to curse him or to pray to him.

He sank down on the ground. The chain around his neck was heavy, a silent reminder he was nothing more than a fucking hostage. Why hadn’t they killed him yet? It wasn’t like anyone would pay for Grantaire’s freedom or that he would have any information for the pirates. Maybe they hadn’t realized that yet. But what would happen when they would?

He buried his face in his hands, his knees tucked up. Maybe if he closed his eyes for a little while he would wake up, back on the Patron-Minette. Maybe this was all a nightmare, fuelled by rum. Maybe Eponine would be there, laughing when he told her. How can the fearsome captain Enjolras look like a god? She would ask him. Stop bothering me with your wet dream. And then she would poke him in the ribs and they would laugh together. Everything would be fine.

But when Grantaire opened his eyes again he was still chained down in the captain’s quarters. He was still at the mercy of the godlike captain, and Éponine was still- was still dea- He still didn’t know what had happened to Éponine.

He didn’t know how much time passed while he was sitting there. He could hear men shouting orders, could hear the wind in the sails. Could feel the ship find her way through the water. They must have had quite some speed. Maybe even the water recognised captain Enjolras as their god.

Eventually the door was opened and the captain entered his cabin again. In his hand he held a bowl.

“I thought you might be hungry,” the captain said. In reaction Grantaire spit on the ground.

Yes, he was hungry. He was hungry, and tired, and scared, and felt weak, and definitely needed something to drink. But he was also stubborn and refused to let Enjolras know that.

The captain didn’t become angry by this little rebellion. He didn’t hit Grantaire in the face, didn’t demand an apology or threatened to hurt him if he didn’t clean it up right away. None of the things captain Claqesous would do - had done - for things even less than this. Instead the blond captain just… smiled? The kind of smile you would give a cat that was doing ridiculous stupid things, or you would give a toddler in a tamper tantrum. Grantaire wanted to wipe that smile off of his face.

“I get it,” the young captain said. How could he look so young and yet so wise at the same time? How could he be the fearless famous captain, while looking barely older than Graintaire himself? Maybe this was all a joke. Maybe this wasn’t captain Enjolras, but his son posing like him. (But it wasn’t, Grantaire knew. No other person would have this air of magnificence).

“No you don’t,” Grantaire spit out. He was still waiting for the anger, for the mask to drop and to show the real face of the man in front of him.

Captain Enjolras put the bowl down. “Here, for you.” He stepped back to leave the prisoner alone. Grantaire didn’t eat it, no matter how delicious it smelled. Instead he grabbed the bowl and tossed it to the head of the captain. With a loud bang the bowl hit the door next to the captain, leaving the man himself with the food stuck in his hair.

And still the man managed to smile before leaving the room.