𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑷𝑯𝑬𝑪𝒀 || 𝐄𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐥𝐫𝐚𝐬

01. 𝑳𝒆 𝑷𝒍𝒖𝒔 𝑷𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒕 𝑹𝒆𝒗𝒐𝒍𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒆

Chapter 1.

✎ᝰ

March 3, 1832.

THE DAMP EVENING air clung to Elizabeth  like a shroud as she left the dimly lit Café Musain.

Tonight, her thoughts were more tangled than usual. As she rounded the corner onto a narrower street, the world faded into the background, and her thoughts turned darker, recalling the words of bravado exchanged in recent moments spent alone with Enjolras. His steady eyes would often bore into her with an intensity that both terrified and intrigued her.

She shook her head, dispelling the thoughts. "Just walk home, Eliza," she muttered, pulling her shawl tightly around her shoulders. "It's late."

Taking a shortcut through an alley, she stumbled upon an unexpected sight: a small figure curled up on the ground. Her heart leaped into her throat as she drew closer. It was Gavroche, the little boy whose bold spirit often overstepped the boundaries of his tiny frame. He lay still, his tousled hair damp against the cobblestones.

"Gavroche!" she whispered, crouching beside him and gently shaking his shoulder. "Gavroche, wake up."

"Gavroche... what are you doing here? It's not safe," Elizabeth said, her voice soft yet tinged with maternal concern.
"Safe? What's that?" Gavroche replied, stretching as he pushed himself up on his elbows. "I'm safe enough."

Elizabeth chuckled, relieved to see him awake, yet her heart sank at the thought of him sleeping in such a place. "You shouldn't be sleeping in alleyways, you know. Especially not this late!"

A grin spread across his face, unfazed as he pushed himself upright. "It's not safe for you to be here either, Mademoiselle," he shot back, his tone teasing yet somehow earnest.

She stood, offering him her hand. "Come on, I'm taking you home."
The look on his face could only be described as incredulous. "Home? To yours? You'll spoil me rotten!"
"I'll spoil you with bread and jam, how about that?" she retorted, a laugh escaping her lips as he accepted her hand.

Elizabeth pulled him to his feet and set off toward her and Marius' apartment. "I can't believe you were out here all alone."

"I'm not alone! I know what I'm doing. I'm as tough as they come," he declared, puffing out his chest, trying to shake off the earlier vulnerability.

"Yeah? Well, let's see you prove it over dinner," she teased, lightening the mood, and he shot her a grin.

Gavroche straightened up, dusting his trousers off.
"Lead the way!"

They navigated through the winding streets, and before long Elizabeth pushed open the door to the modest apartment she shared with Marius. It was quiet, shadows pooling in the corners, the air fragrant with the remnants of an earlier meal.

"I'll make us something to eat," she proclaimed, confidence spilling from her words despite her unfamiliarity with cooking. Growing up in a house filled with staff, she had never held a ladle in her hand.

He plopped himself down eagerly, legs swinging as he watched her rummage through the pantry.

"What can you make?" Gavroche shouted from the couch, his interest piquing at the prospect of food.

"Um... how about tea and... bread with jam?" she suggested, recalling the simple comforts she had often taken for granted.

"And if I'm not impressed?" he challenged playfully.

"Then you can sleep on the floor," she shot back, giving him a teasing glare over her shoulder. A smile broke free on his face.

"How do you take your tea?"