𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑷𝑯𝑬𝑪𝒀 || 𝐄𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐥𝐫𝐚𝐬

03. 𝑳𝒂 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆

Chapter 3.

✎ᝰ

May 22, 1832.

ELIZABETHS EYES flickered open as she became aware of the gentle rhythm of Enjolras's heartbeat beneath her ear.

She could hear the faint scratching of his quill as it danced across a piece of parchment.

He must have been writing again during the night, thoughts spilling forth about the rally they were to hold that day.

She shifted slightly, nestling deeper into the comforting crook of his arm, and caught his gaze through his glasses.

He smiled, a hint of mischief dancing in his blue eyes, before returning to his writing.

"Good morning, Elizabeth," he greeted quietly, his voice low and soothing.

Feeling emboldened, she pressed her lips delicately against the stubble along his jaw, savoring the warmth radiating from him.

"Good morning indeed," she echoed, the softness of her breath tickling his skin.

She trailed kisses down his neck, eliciting a low chuckle from him that caused her stomach to flutter.

He pulled back slightly, looking at her with mock seriousness. "We can't get carried away. There's a rally to prepare for, remember?" he teased, provoking her with a gentle push, his hands gathering her hair in a loose hold.

"Why not?" she teased, lifting her gaze to meet his.

Their eyes locked, a moment charged with something electric. A moment before she leaned down for a longer kiss, one that made her heart race and her skin tingle.

"Surely, you don't think I would allow you to go to the rally without waking you properly."

Elizabeth shifted her weight, playfully moving herself on top of him, the world outside forgotten for that brief respite.

They kissed again, but the weight of reality broke through the spell they'd cast around themselves.

Elizabeth slipped back, leaving Enjolras momentarily suspended in the delightful ache of anticipation.

"What was that for?" he groaned, confusion etched in his brows.

"I suggest you get up, or the rally will start without you, and Grantaire will likely begin preaching about the revolution," she replied, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

At that, she slipped from the bed, letting her nightgown fall to the floor, revealing the soft fabrics beneath.

Enjolras was up in an instant, a noble knight springing from slumber to embrace her from behind.

His lips brushed her neck, sending a shiver across her shoulders.

"Maybe we do have all the time in the world," he murmured against her skin.

"But just a few moments ago, you were against getting too carried away," she reminded him cheekily, daring to look back into his eyes.

His smile grew, impish and irresistible. "I've changed my mind."

"Perhaps because I can hardly bear to live in a world without bringing a little mischief into it," she teased, turning in his arms to face him. "We do have all the time in the world."

✎ᝰ

They stood amongst a tide of restless souls gathered outside General Lamarque's modest dwelling.

A cacophony of voices rose into the air, each one a note in the symphony of discontent that reverberated through the masses.

Elizabeth situated herself on the fringe of the crowd, her heart swelling as she watched Enjolras stand tall, commanding attention as he spoke.