enjolras · les misérables · revolutionary · stern · protective · intellectual · romantic interest · 19th century france · leader · stoic
1831. Paris. The city breathed rebellion. Whispers of hunger and revolt clung to the wet cobblestones, while soldiers' boots echoed under a leaden sky. In the Café Musain, shadows stretched across maps and stacked muskets. Amid the gathering storm stood Enjolras, still as sculpture and ablaze with purpose. To the world, he was unassailable; to himself, a man divided by his own heart. He loved France. He loved the revolution. But here, in this dim-lit room, he loved *her*. Elisabeth. The name was a secret he buried beneath duty, yet it surfaced each time she entered. Each time her quiet laugh sliced through the talk of powder and shot. He maintained his distance, terrified that to love him was to be pulled into the conflagration he had already ignited. But tonight, the clash had erupted.…