𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑷𝑯𝑬𝑪𝒀 || 𝐄𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐥𝐫𝐚𝐬

09. 𝑳𝒆 𝑹𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒏

Chapter 9.

✎ᝰ

June 6, 1832.

"HOW COULD YOU even think of coming back here?"

Grantaire slouched against the window frame, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

"You're a fool for being here, especially now," he added, his tone lowering as he glanced toward her waistline.

"Grantaire, enough," Elizabeth replied curtly, clenching her fists in her lap to keep herself grounded. "I'm not a child; you can't just dictate my life like you would a-" Her voice faltered, the word 'child' hanging heavily in the air between them like a specter.

She quickly looked away, dislodging the sentimental thought before it transformed into something real.

"Think of the child you will soon be responsible for!" Grantaire shot back, agitation knotting his brow. "You think you can pretend this isn't happening?"

"It's none of your business," she hissed, an edge of panic creeping into her tone.

She didn't want Grantaire's pity or his unsolicited advice. At least, not right now.

"I'm not going to hide while my brother and the others fight." Elizabeth hissed, casting her eyes away from him, a sea of bitterness churning within. The truth of her condition became a shackle, binding her to a reality she wasn't ready to confront.

"You think this is some game?" He stood abruptly, the rough edges of his demeanor softening ever so slightly as he continued, "No one told you this would make you a mother. You should be-"

"-where?" she interrupted, pain laced with anger. "Cooped up like a hen while the world outside bleeds?"

"Do you really think they need you up there, fighting with them? It's bloody suicide!"

She silenced him with a pointed finger and strolled out of Café Musain, each step closer to the barricade echoing the conflict that coursed through her veins.

And then they heard the dreaded marching again. They wasted no time.

Another battle had started; she could hear shouts and the rapid crackle of gunfire as she ascended the makeshift wooden platforms.

Courfeyrac was darting around, his face aglow with fervor, and before she could even comprehend what was happening, he tossed her a firearm, urging her forward.

"Come on, we need everyone we can get!" he shouted, oblivious to Elizabeth.

It was instinct that guided Elizabeth's hands, catching the weapon and absorbing the weight of its reality.

Elizabeth fumbled with the weapon, a mix of fear and exhilaration surging through her as Combeferre seized her arm, hauling her up to the barricade's vantage point.

The world around her was a whirlwind, and her heart pounded wildly as she aimed her gun, breath hitching in her throat.

"Don't panic," Enjolras shouted to all the students over the din, his calm voice a grounding force. "Just focus, aim steady."

Bullets whizzed past her, creating a symphony of chaos that was both terrifying and intoxicating.

She fired blindly into the fray, the action becoming a frenzied dance as she struggled to compose herself, the world around her spinning out of control.

It was madness.

In the tumult, Combeferre's steady hand gripped her arm, pulling her higher on the barricade as he shouted to be heard over the cacophony. "Keep your head down and reload!"