It is at this moment that I truly realise how hollow I am. Never mind all the luxuries I have wasted, all the riches I have possessed; in the end, I cannot bring them along with me.
The French hate me. Disgusted of my expensive taste in my earlier years, they are, and disapprove of my influence on my husband ? Louis XVI. But how could I not notice, the root of their hatred lies with the Austrian blood flowing through my body? They loathe me, and will not stop until my heart stops beating.
I was taken through the streets of Paris in an open cart, humiliated and mocked. I saw their laughing faces, heard their abusive words. How ugly they are, I muse, so delighted to see the ill-fortune of another.
Dread smothers me. Not because I fear death ? for my life feels as light as a feather right now ? but as I notice the faces crowding the square, I knew that, in their hearts, I was never queen they desired for. I shall always remain the one who drank champagne in her private chamber while others starve; lavish and selfish. The sadness of this realisation is overwhelming; all my efforts ? all my life ? have been wasted.
All I can recall from my childhood memories were that of being a puppet, dictated by others. I understood at a young age that, born as the daughter of the Austrian Empress, such a fate is inevitable. Yet, I had no resentment towards this destiny. I accepted my life as is, and had hoped to help Mother when it indeed was my turn to marry.
Expectantly, Mother chose the most prestigious character in the whole Europe for her glamorously beautiful daughter ? the Dauphin, prince of France.
But after the thrill died off, the miserable life began to unfold. The Dauphin, now King Louis XVI, though content with my figure and appearance, had no real passion towards me. He simply admired my beauty from afar, with no true signs of treating me as his wife.
His devotion towards clocks and hunts proves an awkward contrast, and hardly my hearts desire.
Depressed as I was, the tedious duties I had to fulfil only gave a sharper edge to my bitterness. I missed Austria and the freedom that I use to boast.
So began my extravagant life. I withdrew from the restraints of court, frequently attending and hosting masked balls; dressed in the most gaudy garments; gambling was a favourite, too.
But although seemingly careless, I remained loyal to my home country. Using my status and influence, I worked to strengthen the alliance between France and Austria.
That was when envy and dislike started to spread.
The courtiers started rumours surreptitiously, accused me of horrid crimes. I was young and proud, and perhaps foolish; I chose to ignore their ridiculous stories.
I was finally bearing children then, and it was comforting. How joyful I was, to finally have children of my own. I settled down from my wild and luxurious nightlife, spending more time with family, with the pleasures of being a mother.
Personal happiness did not lead to bliss of the nation. To aid my people, I attended benefits for charity. But my acts were forgotten. All that lingered in people minds were images of me throwing money carelessly into fashion and gaming.
Poverty of this country provoked rebels and, in the end, it urged the French Revolution.
There was much of fleeing from the rioters. My husband was hang during that time, my children all stolen from me. Coping with all the disasters that seemed to be occurring consecutively, I was caught eventually.
I have lost nearly everything by then, with only dignity by my side. During the trial, I managed to maintain poise. But after the being sneered at by the French so openly in my cart, my pride has escaped me as well.
I am empty indeed.
Lonely was I, with no one to truly understand me. Although Mother thought me as her favourite, her position did not allow her to show true warmth. My husband never treasured me sincerely, for he was as much a tool as I was. My people hate me out of prejudice. My children? Why, they loved me, but left me, one by one.
I have been a Queen, a wife and a mother; yet, I have lost my crown, my husband and my children. I’m a mere woman now, plain and weary. Is it better this way, feeling weightless with nothing to yearn or grieve for?
The crowd hushes; I close my eyes. Leaving nothing behind, my world goes cold.
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