Angelica had not always been watched so closely and cautiously as her father and brother now did. The sudden interest in her affairs made the young blonde wonder what it was exactly the men in her family were hiding from her. Of course, when she asked about it, they would smile politely and answer that it was absolutely nothing. But, the way they fretted over her and kept a wary eye on her when she took her daily walk suggested otherwise.

Angelica would walk out of their tiny new house every day around midday, and would walk up and down along the street, gazing longingly at the vivacious park. But when she dared to step a dainty foot near the forked road, or into the park, it would send one of the men into an absolute frenzy and so would end the only glance of freedom for the twenty year old woman.

It had not always been that way. They used to love in a very stately home near the countryside, not far from King Louis XVI’s palace. The elaborate clothes they donned themselves in and the extravagant soirees they threw helped to make them the talk of the French society. Well, those who were worth the money. But that was never an object. Money always poured into their coffers. From where, Angelica was completely ignorant. Who cared? As long as God was granting them a life of luxury! You would think there was no lower class crawling in inner sanctums of France. Suddenly, however, that life came to an abrupt halt.

It was July 14, and the courts were ablaze with the latest talk of King Louis’ refusal to limit the royal budget. And why should he? There was always money to go around! Angelica and her mother were just discussing how ridiculous the advisor had been, when her father swept into their parlor and hurried his young daughter and wife to pack their personal possessions. No dresses or jewelry though. Only plain shifts and maybe a sue or two. Their dress was by no means allowed to betray their position in society.

They had left their elegant, irresistible life to live in a common, run-down house on the outskirts of Paris. Neither Angelica, nor her mother could figure it out! Even worse was that they were literally forbidden to speak a word to anyone! This stifling life was more than Angelica could bear! It weighed heavily on her mind every day, the walks becoming a cruel reminder of the freedom she no longer had.

Angelica twirled the common looking parasol in her hand, gazing longingly at a hot air balloon flying overhead. The course, long jacket she wore weighed heavily on her shoulders, as the heat which preceded the storm wafted in the air. Thunder could already be heard in the distance. Yet, the sky was as blue as the Mediterranean!

She looked back to the open window where her family resided, and with her engaging azure orbs, she saw the figure of her handsome brother turn away for a moment to address another person. Excitement welled up in her as she looked down to the fork in the road. It would be so easy. There was no one there to stop her or yell at her! Why shouldn’t she take the opportunity? Her father’s worries were just too silly to be taken seriously. Honestly, what was the harm in a little adventure?

Seeing her brother still preoccupied, she dropped the parasol and darted down the silent road, stopping at the two-way split. On the right side was another row of neatly situated houses. But to the left was a pathway to the inner dealings of Parisian life! Angelica let out a tiny giggle at the wickedness of it all! Wouldn’t father be cross? The thought titillated her thoroughly, imagining the look on his reddening face!

Her petite, buskined feet fleetly ran down the streets leading to the Île de la Cité. The thunder could be heard louder now, thrilling the ex-aristocrat onwards. However, this enthusiasm was ebbed as she traveled further along. She smiled happily to dirt-ridden faces, communing outside of suspicious taverns. Instead of warm smiles in return, the citizens replied with a vicious, knowing smirk. Angelica noticed how mismatched their clothing was. They had little pieces here and there which betrayed them as nobility. And yet, some articles were from the poor class. The only thing identical on all persons was the red, white, and blue ribbon adorning their breast.

“How curious!” Angelica remarked, receiving snarls from those which noticed the absence of the symbol.

“Vive la revolucion!” One man shouted with his fist raised in triumph towards her. It seemed to be a sort of test. Was she really one of them? One of the citizens of the new France?

“Vive la revolucion!” she shouted back with zealousness. The people, satisfied, clapped and cheered as she disappeared obliviously from their sight, down the blood-soaked streets.

Angelica did not know what she was saying. She was just happy to be outside! However, she noticed more hard looks as she traveled farther. People with guns slung over their backs ran blindly past. Down one street, it was easy to see a makeshift barricade, which was growing with every minute as people piled beds, chairs, tables, even books, on top of each other!

She paused to stare at this curious spectacle.

“What are you doing? Don’t just stand there! Get something to build it up!” a blustery man angrily commanded.

Angelica gave a rehearsed smile and went straight to work heaving tavern tables and boulders onto the growing rampart, with the strong assistance of other fashionably challenged people. She paused for a moment as a piercing scream sounded in the air, followed by cries of celebration from a large crowd.

“What’s going on?” the young aristo inquired innocently of a man currently loading a pistol.

He smiled with horrific glee, “He he… They’ll be here any minute now, cherie. Any minute those royalist bastards will come a-marching straight into our clutches. We’ll turn them all into magnets!” The man looked up quickly, noticing the girl’s soft, unweathered hands. “Say… who are you, cherie? I can’t recall seeing you in the good fight lately.” He squinted mysteriously, trying to probe into her sky eyes.

The man had never seen anyone act so merrily, without malice, around a barricade. Even the women were stark-faced and ready to die for the new Republic of France. This girl, however, had a certain air about her. It was an arrogant, oblivious air. He could not put his finger on it… but the girl did not belong with them. The thought twitched at his mind, and his nostrils flared, as if trying to sniff out an answer.

“Angelica Chevalier!” Angelica grinned. Giving her name struck a happy chord in her, which had long since seemed vanished. Caught up in the moment, she dipped in a delicate curtsey, imagining, for a moment, that she was once again in the grand ballroom at Versailles.

The gun in the man’s hand was laid aside, as another evil smirk spread across his features. “Chevalier, you say?” He slowly rose from his spot, and began walking towards the youth in front of him. Chevalier… that name still rang like a death knell in his ears. Chevalier… the name of one of the only aristocratic families left at large.

Angelica began to back away slowly, beginning to grow fearful and uneasy. Something about the look in the man’s eyes startled her and caused a scream to form in her throat.

“Raphael,” he stated smoothly and patted her on the back as if she was his best friend in the whole world.

Angelica resumed her smile once again, terror fleeing her like a rapid whirlwind.

“Now, Angelica…” Raphael went on, protectively, “Cherie, this is no place for the likes of you. You should run along home. Your parents might get worried!”

“Oh, they always worry about the tiniest things! They’ll be fine.” She shrugged with a glint in her eyes. Her golden locks bounced on her shoulders, as she tried to figure out exactly what was to happen here. The air was shot through with excitement and tension. Something big was about to take place, and Angelica did not want to miss one single moment of it! Let her parents worry! She was in no danger. They had to get over it some time!

“Well, at least let me have a messenger go and relate to them that you are safe. After all, our motto does include fraternité, n’est-ce pas?” the burly man offered, motioning for one of the men to stop heaving furniture and come over.

Angelica listened with surmounting glee as Raphael relayed the message to be carried out. This would make her parents see. She was perfectly capable of making her own decisions! All of the worrying was silly, indeed! The young girl was so caught up in the idea of proving her point, that she ignored all of the emphasis on her name and the suggestive mannerisms of the men’s eyebrows. The other man at once shot off, calling several others to his side.

Raphael watched them weave their way down the winding Parisian roads. At last… one of the most hated families would soon become one with the mud. Their blood would soak the streets of France, mingling with the blood of their impoverished victims. But what to do about the ignorant daughter before him?

It was then that a shot rang out through the air, followed by a blaze of suffocating smoke. Raphael pitted the unknowing aristocrat to the ground and whipped out his pistol.

“Stay down!” he shouted to her, pressing her to the cobblestones, before shouting the alarm to his peers.

Men, women, even small children rallied to the war cry, each carrying a threatening weapon. Each with deadly aim.

“Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité!” rose the chant, as guns began to blaze back and forth, people rushing to defend the makeshift barrier.

Angelica’s heart was gripped with icy fear. What was happening?! Why were they fighting?! She screamed and covered her ears, as another gunshot whizzed straight over her head, missing by an inch.

“Raphael!” she cried out, but Raphael was too preoccupied with killing off the uniformed men who swarmed around the corner. Occasionally, he would afford a checking glance to her, but otherwise stayed his hand on the target.

Her eyes grew wide, and her whole body quivered, as blood spilled from the backs of the fighters when bullets sailed straight through them with ease. She shakily climbed on her knees, as the deafening war rang through her head, piercing her soul.

“Father!” Angelica squealed out, as she weakly scrambled to an abandoned tavern to tavern to take cover in the doorway. A scream tore from her throat once more as a thunder-like blast shook the foundations of the earth. Civilians’ bodies flew past, broken like rag-dolls. However, most of the bodies which now lay shattered were ones of richly colored uniform and a certain prestige; the last defense of the king.

Her hands shot to her mouth as cold realization bit her repeatedly. She fought to make herself sink into the small building, but the unrelenting boards blocked her way to safety.

Then, all of a sudden, all was silent. Gun smoke still hung in the air, infiltrating her senses. Had she gone deaf? Was it all over so suddenly?

Angelica timidly stuck her head around the corner, looking to the piled furniture, where bodies now lay bruised and bloody. She saw Raphael and an older looking woman talking in low whispers.

“Was that all?” he asked her, not believing for a second it was over.

“The bloody toads couldn’t even go out with a descent battle!” The hag spat angrily.

Raphael looked back to check for Angelica and began walking towards the frightened blonde, when his name was called from down the street.

“Raphael! Raphael! We have them!” the messenger called happily, swiftly followed by his gang.

Angelica shakily crawled out on hands and knees, looking towards Raphael. Her mind was racing too fast to even think about crying.

“Is it over?” she inquired through her baby blue eyes.

Raphael directed her vision towards the oncoming figures to whom her vision was immediately attentive.

Her body sand with indescribable joy as her father’s, her brother’s, and her mother’s faces appeared through the thick smoke.

“Mother! Father! Armand!” Angelica greeted in ignorance. She ignored the fact that her family was being led in huge metal cuffs and were being prodded along like cattle.

Raphael ran ahead of her, catching her roughly by the arm.

“No, no, no, ma cherie!” he taunted, forcing her gaze forward.

Angelica froze suddenly. What was he doing? Her angelic gaze shifted to her father’s, inquiring what was happening. He always had the answers.

However, the only response was a hard, apologetic look towards his beloved daughter, before the saber sliced through the flesh of his neck. The severed head rolled to the feet of the girl, the look in his eyes glazed over in acceptance. The crimson liquid slithered into the cracks of the cobblestones like a growing serpent.

Angelica’s mouth dropped open. No scream came. Nothing came. Her eyes iced over in a catatonic glaze. Her mind was numb… what was there to think? Her body shuddered as she fell into darkness, the heads of her beautiful mother, and her brother rolling to be beside her.

Cheers and laughter rang out through the throngs of citizens.

“She will make a good asset,” Raphael chuckled in glee.

“Won’t we kill her?” his friend asked confused.

Raphael smirked, “Why should we waste such a young life? Death would just give her freedom… do we want to give the aristos freedom, mon ami?”