Sweet Rebellion

1789, France

The sun had already set and the streets gradually became deserted of people. The boutiques started closing and the noises slowly died down until only the howling of the chilly, October wind could be heard. No one fancied going out of their respective domiciles. No one fancied taking a step out on the road. No one fancied the idea of being caught dead on the cold, rough streets of Versailles.

        No one but her.

        Victoria sauntered down the road, her shoes creating tip-tapping noises which were very audible due to the dead silence of the place. She had her parasol open and held by her right, gloved hand. Yes, she knew that the sun was inexistent, but the parasol provided the concealment she truly needed.

        She turned around a curve on the street and the houses became sparser as she walked farther away from the heart of the city. The night grew cold and she silently thanked the heavens for giving her the instinct to wear a long-sleeved dress.

        A couple more steps later, Victoria finally reached her destination. It just took her a couple of seconds before she saw him. He was there, sitting on one of the benches of the abandoned garden where they always held their rendezvous.

        Victoria walked over to where he was, and by the moment she was already near enough, she called out. "Julian."

        The man turned his head at the direction of the voice. He instantaneously stood up as he recognized her. "Victoria," he said, and then strode towards her for them to meet.

        The moment Julian got hold of her, everything happened so fast. One moment, Victoria was just standing there, and then she was suddenly in his arms the next; meeting his hungry kisses and drowning in them as well. His scent filled her senses and for that brief length of time, nothing else mattered in the world.

        "Oh, Victoria. My Victoria," Julian said as soon as the kiss broke. She loved it how his tongue caressed her name; how he pronounced it ever so sweetly, not letting a syllable go off-tone. No one said her name that way. Only him.

        Julian led her to the bench where she found him sitting earlier. "I thought you were never going to come," he said, his voice having a tint of mixed anxiety and relief.

        "I will always come, Julian," Victoria said, giving him a reassuring smile.

        Julian smiled back. It may be dark, but Victoria still saw how divine his smile was.

        Victoria already met a lot of barons, sons of dukes, generals, princes and such, but not once had she seen a face as immaculate as Julian's. She was never really sure what part of him attracted her the most. Was it his soft, dark chocolate hair –which she always loved running her hands through? His luscious, full lips –which gave her the sweetest kisses she has ever tasted? His beguiling, steel gray eyes –which, when directed at her, made her feel like the most beautiful woman on Earth?

        "How was your day?" Julian asked, still smiling. His composure was a bit more relaxed now.

        Victoria was about to say that everything had been just fine and smooth, but then she remembered what happened earlier in the castle. Her hands trembled slightly, and Julian must've felt it too because he gave her hand a comforting press. "The whole palace is under panic. My father just got knowledge of the traitor inside his fortress, and he does not feel so good about it. One of my ladies-in-waiting almost got the blame. Almost," she said.

        "Are you worried?" asked Julian.

        Silence ensued.

        "What if my father knew it was me? What if my father knew about us?" Victoria asked back, her mind racing for the things her father might do to her if he knew. Besides, he was capable of doing anything.