Red Wool and Black Lace
The day of the Opera had finally come. Enjolras paced his room, waiting for the sun to set so he could put on the now damnable refitted clothes that Madame Arielle had been determined he have. The day was slow going and he had little to occupy him.
Arielle was still running around in a dither to get things in order, Fabien had been out on an assignment, and Melodie had been muttering at something behind her closed door since breakfast.
Loneliness was a hollow friend.
A few years ago, he wouldn't have minded the silence of his room. A few years ago he would have reveled in it. But now … now the silence was deafening. He wanted to say it was just the time he'd spent in this house that had changed him, but he knew that was false.
His life with Les Amis had changed him. The noise of the café, the hustle and bustle of people coming to him for advice or to express an idea had become so ingrained in his way of life, that the stillness and quietness of the Charmant household unnerved him.
He had liked feeling like he was needed, that he was working to a goal that would benefit the world. Now, now he felt as though the only person who was benefitting from his current state of inaction was himself. It was a weight that settled heavily in his stomach.
If the King decided to pardon them, he knew they would be watched for the rest of their lives. There would be no glorious revolution again here in France in his lifetime. At least not with him at the helm. The thought of France, a France that he helped to shape, had always left him with a feeling of hope and contentment. France going without him, as though he was no longer a fils de la patrie, left a bitter taste in his mouth.
The clock in the hall chimed the six o'clock hour. Not a moment later a knock sounded at his bedroom door. Wary of who could be on the other side, he opened the door slowly. The scent of roasted duck and sprouts hit his nose first. His stomach gave a low growl, causing the maid carrying the tray to chuckle.
"Your supper sir. Madame Charmant insists you eat well in preparation for tonight." She said with a smile. Enjolras gave a faint grin in return.
"Have you delivered Mademoiselle Melodie's supper tray yet? I can do it for you so you're not running to and froe so much."
The maid shook her head and smiled again.
"No monsieur, I brought her hers first, as Madame instructed."
Enjolras bit back a groan.
"Very well, place it on the dresser, I'll return for it shortly." He instructed as he left the room and made his way down to Melodie's door. He knocked vigorously but it was Arielle's voice that answered.
"Not now! There is much to do and you need to eat monsieur!"
Enjolras sighed and rested his forehead against the wooden barrier. How Madame Arielle knew it was him, he was not sure but it irritated him that she hadn't let Melodie answer. He grudgingly knew the sound of her voice would calm him.
His stomach gave another low growl and he sighed.
"You're lucky my body insists on nourishment just now!" He shouted through the closed door.
A peal of feminine laughter came in response and he finally smiled in truth. Arielle could not certainly keep Melodie's amusement in check.
With that in mind, Enjolras returned to his room in anticipation of the meal but still wishing he had company.
The meal was succulent as expected and by the time he was ready to get dressed, his mood had improved vastly. Just as he was buttoning the last button on his waistcoat, knock sounded at the door. Think it was the maid come to take away his supper tray, he opened the door quickly.
Melodie stood on the other side stepping anxiously from one foot to the other. Her face lit up when she caught sight of him.
"Oh good, I caught you before you put on that old thing of Fabien's! Here, you'll like this better." She shoved a badly wrapped package into his arms and then darted forward to press a quick kiss to his cheek. Before he could utter a single word, she was waving and darting off back down the corridor and out of sight.
Enjolras stood stock still for a full minute, appreciating the warmth left by her kiss on his cheek and the faint scent of citrus she left in her wake. Down the hall the clock chimed, reminding him that her had only a few more minutes to get ready. Closing the door and placing the hastily given package on his bed, Enjolras stared down at the … thing Melodie had given him.
The wrapping was simple butcher's paper and tied messily with twine but the package was soft and lumpy in some places. Shrugging, knowing it was useless to guess what she had concocted, he tore off the paper. What laid beneath caught his breath and brought a simmering heat to his eyes. Fighting back the unexpected tears, Enjolras carefully held Melodie's gift before him.
She had repaired his red coat. The wool was as soft and as clean as the day he had received it. The gold buttons shone brightly in the light from the wall sconces. Blood and grime no long stained the breast. The scents of ash and gunpowder had been washed away, leaving only the faintest hint of the pine soap she had used in her scrubbing.
Gone was the death that had clung to the garment and as he slowly slipped the familiar sleeves over his arms, he felt a little of the guilt that still clung to his mind slip away as well.
Knowing that if he remained alone any longer with only this coat as comfort that he would be overwhelmed, Enjolras sped from the room and down into the foyer, hoping for once that Fabien would be there to distract him. Much to his surprise, his wish was granted. Fabien stood in the foyer contemplating the ceiling. Unsure of his mood, Enjolras approached him carefully, fully aware that until the King and Queen passed judgement, Fabien saw him as an enemy of the state, attachment to Melodie or no.
Fabien didn't look to him even though Enjolras was certain he knew he was there. Instead he kept his eyes fixed to the above, the look of deep thought on his face never wavering.
"Do you ever wonder, what happens to the stubs of candles?" Fabien quietly inquired.
Enjolras followed his gaze to the ceiling to see the chandelier above them. Frowning, he shrugged at Fabien's odd question.
"They get tossed with the rest of the trash I assume." Enjolras looked back at Fabien to see how he would respond. The man merely nodded and continued to stare the lights shining from above. It was several more minutes before Fabien spoke again, in which time Enjolras had begun to wonder if the man had received a blow to the head on the recent assignment. Only such a thing could cause practical, rational Fabien to as such odd, mundane questions.
"I think people are like candle stubs" Fabien murmured. "Even at their ends, they still have so much to give yet people toss them aside all the same."
Fabien finally looked at Enjolras, but he couldn't find any words to say. Fabien's simple observation had hit a nerve he didn't feel like pondering over at that moment. Fabien looked him over and smiled faintly.
"That coat looks well on you." Fabien became serious again as he reached out to straighten the lapels of Enjolras's coat. "Blood is never a good accent and I trust you'll do your best tonight to keep it from touching this fine wool again or staining the hem of her dress."
Enjolras stiffened and nodded, quietly acknowledging Fabien's veiled reminder of what was at stake tonight, not only for himself but for Melodie too.
"Enjolras?" Melodie's voice floated down to him from the top of the stairs.
Enjolras snapped his eyes to her and felt his breath catch.
She was a vision of loveliness. The dress was white and completely overlaid with black lace. A brilliant red sash tied in a bow on her right hip matched his coat perfectly. The top clung to her body before billowing out to cascade down to the floor. The sleeves, if they could really be called that, were merely scraps of the black lace that just barely clung to her shoulders. Her gold curls had been left loose down her back, only just pulled back by two ebony hair combs.
"Say something …" He heard Fabien whisper roughly behind him. He immediately ceased his perusal of Melodie's person and noticed how she shifted nervously from side to side and clutched at the opera gloves Arielle must have lent her.
Enjolras quickly cleared his throat and moved forward. Stepping up slightly on the bottom step, he reached his hand up to her. Melodie flushed and glided down to meet. She put her hand in his and he didn't hesitate to place a kiss to the back of it.
"You look stunning." He spoke softly for her ears alone. Melodie smiled timidly at him and opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by the sound of her sister's voice.
"Come now, enough of that. You have little to no time left!"
Melodie rolled her eyes and turned to look at her twin.
"And just who's fault is that" Melodie drawled. Arielle shook her head and began to shoo them towards the front door.
The carriage was waiting at the door and after assisting Melodie into her borrowed black velvet cloak, he gently handed her up into the vehicle. Feeling the dip of her waist beneath his hands made him grit his teeth at the sudden onslaught of desire that rushed through his body. He nodded and waved goodbye to the Charmants hurriedly before seating himself across from Melodie. As the driver clucked the horses into a trot, Enjolras felt his gaze fix on the woman across from him. Melodie's gaze was lingering on the passing lights that filtered in through their carriage window. As they swept in and danced across her skin, they cast a soft glow about her.
It made Enjolras long for things he knew he shouldn't focusing on right now. No, thoughts of Melodie clothed in candlelight and nothing else would not win them a reprieve from their Majesties.
But it certainly gave him something to fight for.
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Melodie felt her courage starting to leave her as the carriage made its way closer to the Opera House. It had been so long since she had seen their Majesties face to face and she didn't know what to expect.
Would they treat her as the child they once knew?
Or as the rebel she had become?
The Archbishop had said that His Majesty knew of what had befallen her and her sister, but that guaranteed nothing anymore. She had broken the law and helped a cause that had led to a loss of life for both sides. Such things would inexcusable to most monarchs.
Nothing was certain anymore.
Her fist clenched at the thought and she bit her bottom lip to keep a frustrated sigh from escaping.
What would have Jehan done? Or Joly? They had been the most level headed men she knew and certainly would have had advice to give her on how to comport herself. Jehan would probably have recommended being soft spoken and gentle, seeing as that's how he always won people over. Joly more certainly would have told her to be honest though to keep her contrary temper in check …
She was so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn't heard Enjolras trying to get her attention.
"Melodie, please." She jumped at the feeling of his hand trying to uncurl the fist she had unknowingly made.
She looked up at him and knew her expression was bordering on panic. He squeezed her hand in comfort and then tugged her over to sit next to him. Careful to not muss her hair, probably knowing Arielle would give him hell later if her did, he tucked her head beneath his chin. He began rubbing soothing circles into her shoulder and she felt herself relax against him fully.
"Thank you" She glanced up to see him fingering the edge of the repaired coat. "I've never received a gift that meant so much."
She caught up his hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles.
"You're welcome. I … I couldn't imagine you wearing anything but this, especially for this occasion. I want you to be able to stand with pride as the leader of our revolution. This coat always defined it for me I think."
She knew she was babbling and was grateful when he pressed a finger to her lips to silence her. His hand gently tilted her face up and before she could register what he was about, he was kissing her.
His lips softly coaxed her to respond and she felt her fear begin to fade under his tender ministrations. Her hand caught itself in his hair and she shifted so she had a better angle to kiss him back at. The heat between them was beginning to reach a fever pitch when the coach bumped to a halt.
Enjolras was breathing hard and rested his forehead against hers as they waited for the driver to get down and open the door for them.
It also gave them time to slow their racing hearts.
"I think we need to make it a practice to not start doing that when there are potentially life threating situations on the agenda." She murmured.
A hoarse chuckle leaked from his lips and he brushed back a curl from her shoulder.
"True. Arielle's panic-induced-frenzies do seem to be something to contend with."
The door suddenly popped open and Enjolras began to make his way out.
"You have no idea." She groused as he handed her down from the step.
The bright lights of the Opera House blinded her momentarily and she instinctively huddled against Enjolras.
"Courage, ange. We go forward together." He whispered against her curls.
"Together." She replied firmly.
