Versailles is worse than being queen

◎Your Highness, I will marry you! ◎

"Madam, I hope His Highness the Crown Prince will not be displeased—the 20 people in front of you are all in love with you."

Marshal Brissac bowed deeply, and smiled at the girl in the carriage.

The luxurious carriage had just passed the triumphal arch specially built for her, and the fragrance of flowers surrounded her.The jeweled crown is embellished with intricate pictures, the crystal-like window glass is shining brightly, and the bright sunlight falls on the brilliantly embroidered silk and velvet.

The young Crown Princess came to Paris from the Palace of Versailles for the first time.

The aroma of flowers, fruits, fine wine and barbecue permeated the air in the central square. Fireworks bloomed around the towers of the church. Countless ships lit their brilliant torches, as if the entire sky had turned into a dream.

The girl couldn't help but put her hand over her heart: "I will never forget this moment."

Her light golden hair is shining brightly in the sun, her white and translucent skin is dazzling, and her blue eyes, which are as pale as forget-me-nots, are filled with gratitude. She turns her head to look out the window with a smile, looking back and cheering crowd.

At this time, her eyes suddenly froze.

On the shiny window glass, a stream of blood snaked down.

The girl shivered violently, subconsciously looked up.

"Austrian she-wolf! Slut!" The noisy crowd around were not cheering excitedly, but cursing wildly.

The deformed human faces were squeezed close to each other on the outside of the window glass, deformed to the point of ferocity, and countless hands clattered on the car door.

Someone sang at the top of their voices in the crudest of tones, "Louie, if you want to see the bastard and the bitch, look in the mirror at the queen and the dauphin!"

boom!Bang bang bang!

Suddenly there was a deafening gunshot amidst the chaos of people, causing hysterical screams.

"Protect the queen, they are here to kill her!"

Her last guard, Miomund, opened the wooden bedroom door a crack and shouted at her maid.

The door slammed shut, and there was a chaotic sound of blunt objects hitting outside the door.

A dark red liquid oozed out from the crack of the door bit by bit, and the tip of the nose smelled of rust, sticky and damp.

Hot blood.

Cold blade.

The choking smoke.

The head of a husband, a dear friend.

The pale face of the child in the small coffin...

Everything was burning, tearing apart, sinking her into a hell where there would never be light again.

"Marie Antoinette!"

A hoarse voice suddenly sounded, and she was roughly woken up.

Paris, France, Concy-Herge Prison, "Reception Room of Death".

It was four o'clock in the morning, and the faint morning star was twinkling in the corner of the sky, and the cold dew was slipping from the corner of the window frame.

Her heart was still beating violently, and her forehead was wet and cold, but she was fully awake in just a moment.

After all, this is not the first time she has been interrogated at this time.

But she knew that this time was different.

"You have one last chance."

The commissioner in a black robe said indifferently, "What's the name of the jailer who delivered the letter to you three days ago?"

His gaze was gloomy and fierce like a falcon, and his tall body leaned forward slightly, creating an invisible deterrent condescending.

This desolate queen was imprisoned in a death row prison, and there were jailers who risked their lives trying to save her from prison not long after they met, which made them unexpected and even more furious.

But the woman who was sitting upright quickly calmed down, and glanced at him lightly, "Tell you, so that you can cut off his head?"

The chaotic changes in France have been completely out of control so far.

The lawyers who defended her in court have been jailed—even if they could hardly speak for fear of being guillotined like the lawyers who defended the king.

The gendarmerie officer who escorted her to court but only helped her when she nearly fell, faced the death penalty for treason.

The man's gaze became colder, "It's just an investigation. Besides, this is your last chance."

She was silent for a few seconds, then sighed leisurely: "I don't remember. You know, I have a bad memory, and I never remember the names of servants."

With a sound of "crash", the special commissioner suddenly lifted his robe and stood up, and snorted coldly in a low voice: "Very good. Let's pronounce the sentence directly."

A gust of cold wind blew by, and the dim light of the candles on the wet wall flickered.

"Marie Antoinette, you have betrayed the Republic, committed treason, corruption, treason with the enemy, crimes against national security, crimes of squandering state property, and crimes of moral corruption as a woman, and are sentenced to death."

"The execution will be carried out within 24 hours at Revolution Square."

Her calm eyes flicked across the young judge who was downcast and did not dare to look at her, and looked at the sinister figure of the special commissioner, and said in a calm tone: "You can be my executioner."

The corners of the mouth curled up slightly, "But you will never be my judges."

The sun rose.

Seeing the sun again after a few months is the end of life.

The prison van left the courtyard of the Palais de Justice, crossed the sparkling Seine under the blue sky, went north from the Place des Notre-Dame, from the Rue de la Mint and Rolling Wood Street to the intersection of Rue Saint-Honoré, then entered the Rue de la Revolution, and finally arrived at the crowded Revolution Square.

The guillotine was already there waiting for her.

Months of dark captivity made her vision blurred under the strong sunlight, and her hands tied behind her back made it difficult for her to maintain her balance.

She staggered and suddenly realized what had happened——

She stepped on the foot of the executioner Sanson.

"Excuse me." She subconsciously apologized.

The surrounding atmosphere suddenly froze for a moment, and an awkward and tense silence gripped the crowd by the guillotine.

But she no longer cared.

"We just want to exchange our own blood for the happiness of France." She wrote in her last letter before execution.

May this chaotic kingdom still have its happiness.

May there be no heaven after death.

Under the bright sunlight, the sharp blade on the top of the guillotine shone with silvery light, like a mysterious and distant illusion.

1793 10 Month 16 Day.

The former Queen of France, Marie Antoinette, died at a quarter of noon, the day after four years and three months of the French Revolution.

The originally clear sky was suddenly overcast with dark red cold rain dripping along the cold blade of the guillotine.

……

Crackling, crackling.

Amidst the faint sound of firewood in the fireplace, she opened her eyes.

In the hazy vision, the golden sun warmly sprinkled on her body, as thick as honey poured into oatmeal.The surrounding is dry and warm, and the sweet aroma of rose and raspberry lingers on the nose.

This is……?

It's not hell.

She rubbed her eyes subconsciously, and then heard a knock on the door.

"Your Highness Antania, the concert is over. Don't forget that the banquet will start in two hours." An inexplicably familiar gentle voice said.

Your Highness Antania?

This time, she was really stunned.

No one has called her that in over 20 years.

Since her marriage to France, she has become Marie Antoinette.

Only people in her childhood family would call her Antania—this is because Queen Maria Theresa's eleven daughters were all named "Maria" in honor of the Virgin Mary.

Therefore, they are all distinguished by the name of the second section.

The surrounding scenery clearly came into view at this time.

The chandelier hangs on the high marble wall, and it is surrounded by steady and magnificent black and white, which is in stark contrast to the bright and luxurious Rococo style she is most familiar with in her previous life.

Although it was a bit unfamiliar, she still recognized it at a glance.

This is the Hofburg Palace in Vienna, the winter palace of the Habsburg family.

In the 24 years since her marriage to France, she has never returned here.

Antanya's gaze blankly swept across the burning fireplace, the tall white pine covered with snow outside the bright window, and the mistletoe garland hanging crookedly by the window, and finally fell on her hands that could not help raising them.

Those were a pair of white and tender hands with delicate skin and well-proportioned flesh and bones, and they belonged to young children at first glance.

The little princess of the Habsburg dynasty, Maria Antania.

The memories of children suddenly flooded in and occupied her mind in an instant.

It was the beginning of the new year in 1762, and she was not yet seven years old.

... She is, back to more than 30 years ago?

Antanya was frowning and thinking, when the room door just opened a crack, there was a burst of earth-shattering cries, as if experiencing the end of the world.

"Sister! Sister! Apollo is dead!"

The cry came from far and near, and then another voice sounded.

"What's the use of crying?" came the impatient girl's voice, "What can you do with Antania? She can't learn anything well, she doesn't know anything, tsk."

It was her youngest sister Caroline, tenth princess of the Austrian royal family, who was speaking.

Hearing Caroline's words, the little boy's cries rose another octave: "Sister! Sister! Sister!"

Antania: "..."

She is the queen's youngest daughter and has only one younger brother, Maximilian.

She thought for a moment—

Oh, Apollo is a chipmunk raised by my younger brother.

Poor Apollo.

At this time, the door was pushed open, and two figures, one tall and one short, walked in.

"I just went to Epiphany Mass, and it died when I came back! Woooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo..."

Maximilian staggered and rushed to Antanya while weeping loudly.

He was crying with tears and snot all over his face, and he was clumsily holding a fat chipmunk with its belly upturned in his small hands. The little guy was motionless with his eyes closed, his whole body was cold, and he had no breathing or heartbeat.

"Sister, can you save Apollo! I beg you..."

The little boy with pale blond hair looked up at her, pleading.

For a moment, Antanya thought of her child who died in infancy.

That well-behaved and intelligent little boy was her first son, and when he died, he was unusually quiet. His eyes were very big on his little face that was tortured and emaciated by illness, and he looked at her gently: "Mom, I want to sleep."

He was seven years old then.

He and Maximilian had exactly the same light blue eyes.

Subconsciously, she reached out and touched the collar on the back of the little boy's neck, feeling the dampness of sweat.

Antanya sighed, "Give it to me."

She stood up, took the poor little Apollo from her younger brother, and looked at the maid following behind: "Take Maximilian to change clothes, be careful not to catch a cold."

"Look, Antania is going to cheat you with a chipmunk." Caroline gloated and poked her brother's little face.

"Wow—" Maximilian cried again.

At such a young age, he couldn't tell which of the two sisters was lying to him, so he could only tug on Antanya's sleeve pleadingly: "Sister, you, you won't lie to me, right..."

Antanya patted his hand reassuringly, "No. You go change your clothes and eat something first. I will try my best to wake Apollo up."

"Don't miss the banquet, Antanya!" Caroline winked at her.

To her surprise, this younger sister, who had always been difficult to deal with herself, didn't speak back, but just nodded lightly: "I see."

Yo, the proud and naughty little girl has something on her mind today?

Caroline rolled her eyes.

Antanya carefully placed the chipmunk on a small pillow not far from the fireplace, walked to the door again, and told the maid: "Bring some hot water, as well as oatmeal and boiled chicken."

At this moment, a young boy wearing an exquisite court dress suddenly ran across the corridor like a gust of wind, and the court attendant next to him hurriedly stopped him: "Sir, the floor has just been waxed..."

Before he finished speaking, the little boy staggered and slipped, and the lotus leaf-like silk neckline flew up, flashing past Antanya's eyes like a shining white dove: "Oh!"

Antanya subconsciously stretched out her hand to support him.

The dexterous young boy regained his balance immediately after being supported by her, and raised his head happily: "Thank you!"

The blond-haired and blue-eyed boy was dressed in a small, exquisite but meticulous dress. The white blouse inlaid with gold threads had no creases. He wore shiny black boots with clean white socks. He wore a rather majestic dagger on his waist.

Antanya looked at him, her heart skipped a beat.

……It's him!

The later famous musician, who was only six years old at this time-Wolfgang Mozart.

She vaguely recalls learning of the death of her fellow musician in captivity two years after the French Revolution.

And he was two months younger than her.

At the moment when Antanya was stunned, Mozart smiled shyly, dimples appeared on his white and tender face.

Then before she could react at all, she suddenly tiptoed and kissed her on the cheek.

"..." Antanya was stunned by the kiss.

Wait, this scene looks familiar.

She remembered that in her previous life, she also experienced this when she was seven years old.

—and was laughed at by brothers and sisters for a long time.

Antanya, whose memory suddenly recalled, raised her hand subconsciously, trying to cover the little boy's mouth.

...don't open your mouth!

Too late.

Those blue eyes looked at her brightly, and smiled crookedly: "Your Highness, I will marry you!"

The author says:

Antania: ... careless.

Mozart: (〃▽〃)

The male protagonist was brutally cut off, the full text is over (bushi).

Marie Antoinette is a controversial historical figure. I used Zweig's "Queen of the Decapitated" as the base. The reference historical materials give priority to the story, and there are many dramatic interpretations. It is inevitable that there are imprecise places , please be merciful to the knowledgeable cuties~

In the final analysis, this article is a fictional story, I hope the little angel enjoys reading it!

Description:

Antonia (Antonia) and Antoinette (Antoinette) are the German (Austrian official language) and French names of the heroine respectively.Because the common translated name of the former has the same name as the little architect next door (do you dare to be more perfunctory in the name of a Westerner!) I can't bear it, so I adjusted the transliteration.