I was a Queen, it was then...
It was the end, they shot him,
we had a wonderful dream and that was all…
Delphinium leaning on the
aureate gate, asters twisting around the benches. Flowers were blossoming, the
sun glared out from the bright blue sky – every day I wake up, with brioches;
macaroons; croissants and crystal clear flute served on my gilded console
table.
My everyday routine is simple to
be said. Simplistic designed tiled floors and inlaid taps,
with a special herbal blend with
my copper glazed tub, ready to be bathed and the gown was made of English linen
and buttoned up to the neck, topping up with silk covered crinoline and pale
ashen perukes with my faired skin. Luxury.
Most of the time, actually,
every day I read, unlike the others, my life was trapped in a mirrored prison,
what makes me happy? Books! And no one truly loves me, everyone was forced to
love you, my entire existence is to help the country itself to gain more
authoritative within the European estate so as my sisters, therefore since I
was little I was seen as a property to my very own country, or should I say – a
product?
However, it was about to come to
an end, travelling solely as an immigrant to France, miles away from where I
was born. It was a thrust upon the throne at seventeen, and little time to
prepare for the arduous roles a naive girl such as myself faced. All I wanted
and needed was love, a childhood of mine was stolen. And standing upon my own
ground, I do but take responsibility for the course of my own actions, not
those in which the court has accused me of. Yes, it is true the fact I have led
an extraordinary lifestyle; I have heard it all, I have seen it all and I chose
to ignore it all.
One day, the gate was opened,
more than one gate, we were terrified of the sound of anger so as he,
thin-lipped and I could feel the cold within him. ‘Louis!’ I cried. Louis is
gone before me. I too followed his footsteps, following all the punishments
that he has left for me to redeem. Red on white. I was a fallen angel.
I have never imagined it will
end up a tragedy, for all to end so savagely. So cold outside, so blank and
grey and unfeeling, untouched. Centuries of rule gone, the streets of Paris
running red with blood, it was torn from the crying poor, and I still feel
nothing, and it weighs so heavily upon me. The tumbril door opens. Did Louis
step here also? Did his death’s feet pave the way for mine?
I trip, I stumble step on the
executioner’s left foot. I look up at him, he looks rather unkindly on me, he
cries out in pain for a moment, I realised I have caused many problems to make
the people suffer, I was the centre of everyone’s pain, particularly in France,
the problem will never be solved until they cut me off. So many watching, if I
were naked it would be no less violating, it would make no difference, maybe I
should strip now just to defy them all, no don’t be stupid, you die with a
sense of dignity, die as a Queen even though a crown was taken off but I will
leave a mark on history, I want to die all with dignity don’t give them the
satisfaction…my head tells me I should have no such care because I will be dead
anyways, I try to take a deep breath but the air seems stoppered completely, an
anvil on my chest.
Starvation; War; Incest;
Murderer of the country they say and once I was the top of the world, now I
have fallen, and you took away my crown; a wife, and you killed my husband; a
mother, and you deprived me of my children. . . Only the gentle love of a
mother can bear the wounds I so agonisingly possess. For a mother, who so
lovingly and tenderly doted upon her own children, to be accused of such
hideous crimes as incest? My neck was then locked, skin was scattered with
scars. , don’t rest your hands on my dress, I said, the combination feels
uncomfortably stark, white on white, all is pale in the darkness, stop it, and
stop thinking of it, knowing…why did I choose white? Knowing the dress will make
the blood stain all the more visible, I realise that soon I will know. I
tremble like a leaf.
