French Historical Fiction Novels & Stories

Claire hummed softly as she leaned against the wall with her eyes closed. It was an old French song that Elias sang to her years ago. Some sort of lullaby sung during to the royal children the early Capetian dynasty, back when the French were called ‘Francs.’ It was originally a Troubadour’s ballad about a young noblewoman learning to dance with her milk brother, and how they secretly fell in love. He had hummed it in the beginning, back when the pain kept her awake and paralyzed, when it was all that she could think of. She hadn’t even remembered that he was the one who taught it to her until she went to sing the words under her breath and realized they were Old French, not English. That ma

While she was in town, she thought they would go to a nearby café for refreshments. When they were finished eating, a man caught her as she came out of the building. “Please, you are Mademoiselle Bellamont?” She nodded, instantly suspicious of the tall man before her who appeared in some kind of uniform. She had seen similar attire on men in La Rochelle from time to time. “I would speak with you about a matter of importance.” He hesitated, and then went on. “I am with the French army, Mademoiselle.”

She asked in a crafty manner. "Well, My night was great, splendid even. And I would say I came back at the exact time I intended," Francesca said pausing from her novel. She stopped reading the novel, bookmarked and closed it, to turn her attention to Joan "what about you? How did your night go? Did anything eventful happen? Anything I should know about?" Francesca asked, her bright green eyes boring into Joan's amber ones. "Erm... uh... eventful? Uh... what do you mean by eventful?" Joan asked in a stutter as she averted her eyes from her aunt's.

While they waited for the food, they began to talk. "So, I must ask, I want to know the backstory with Pierre. Everyone seems to stay clear of him.” "Okay, it's a bit of a sad story, actually. When I was ten, I, Alana, Corbin, and Ranger all went out. It was just the four of us. It was like two weeks before Alana was supposed to marry Prince Antonio. We had gone into this little shop and Corbin pissed someone off. He ended up getting into a fight, killing the other guy. He ran back out to our carriage and Ranger followed him. They started yelling and the police officers came, so Alana went out to try and soothe the matter. She told me to stay in the store, so I did. I watched as she calmed e

Over the past two weeks, Jane had found herself thinking of Lucie Manette as Grace Anderson, and every once in a while she was Darnay, but mostly she was Sydney Carton. "This is an excellent book," Jane finished reading. "It teaches you about the French Revolution, which took place in the seventeen-nineties in the country of France. It is a good book if you like history or violence or exciting suspense. It is a love story, too. All in all, it is an excellent book."

Her expression relaxes and she listens to me carefully. — You see, the Hundred Years War in France began in 1337 as a dispute over the inheritance of the French throne, interspersed with occasional periods of relative peace. Most of the fighting had taken place in France, and the English army's use of destructive scorched earth tactics had devastated the Gallic economy. France's population had not yet fully recovered from the ravages of the Black Death pandemic in the mid-14th century, and its traders were cut off from foreign markets. On the other hand, the English had almost achieved their goal of a dual monarchy under English control and the French army had not achieved any major victorie

Under the bright Provencal sun, the chateau came alive in a symphony of vivid colors and melodious sounds. As morning seeped into afternoon, the labyrinthine lanes of the chateau invited Vincent and Abigail for a leisurely stroll, a tour through centuries past. Vincent led Abigail through the cobblestone paths, sharing tales of historic soirees and regal affairs. They passed through the beautifully manicured gardens dotted with blooming flowers of every imaginable color, the stone sculptures whispering secrets of the ages. He pointed out the intricately designed parterres and the mesmerizing labyrinth, explaining their significance in 19th-century landscape architecture. Abigail listened wit

That, in turn, could, in its own small way, change the course of history. It made her feel the importance of her actions all the more. The past was hers to create again. Taking in her elegant surroundings, Caitlin began to relax a bit, and even to feel a bit encouraged. At least she had landed in a beautiful place, in a beautiful city, and in a beautiful time. This was hardly the stone age, after all, and it was not like she had appeared in the middle of nowhere. Everything around her looked immaculate, and the people were all dressed so nicely, and the cobblestone streets shined in the torchlight. And the one thing she did remember about Paris in the 18th century was that it was a luxurious