The last day of Marie Antoinette, Queen consort of France and Navarre

She paced the small room back and forth keeping her feet warm due to the crisp air penetrating her thin silk shoes. Long had she languished here, born into the very height of the aristocracy an archduchess by birth now reduced to but the simple La Veurve Capet. Once she was queen now stood she deposed and at the lowest she could have ever imagined. Those loved by her attempted to save her. Her dear sister Maria Carolina De facto ruler of the two Sicilies had attempted a Neapolitan invasion of southern France this however was to no avail and the republican army began advancing into Naples smashing through the various Neapolitan forces. The revolutionaries had taken her crown, her husband and worst of all her dear children all that remained was her blood which was to be taken later that day. Accused of treason and incest, crimes most foul. She was not guilty of such but in fact but a woman with powerful enemies.  It is agreed by many that from the frivolous doll of the young woman sprung a martyr and from the queen a heroine. She now awaited at long last for her time on earth to conclude.

Soon the turnkey’s footsteps echoed in the rooms and she prepared for what was to come. The turnkey arrived.

She begged him "Please sir, I implore can this wait just a little while more"

"I am afraid not, Madame" Said he

And so she took her final toilet the last toilet she was to take. She changed into the simple but elegant white muslin dress, given to her by the turnkey’s wife. 'Twas white instead of a black dress like many before her had she made her last sign of resistance and that was to wear white. Though it was simple it nevertheless was a sign of the royalist rebellion 'twas the most she could do.

She sat and had her last meal consisting off a chicken breast and a hot chocolate brought to her from a nearby cafe.

And so she began her departure to the Place de la Revolution previously known as the Place de la Louis XV aboard a cart with few others.

Early in the afternoon arrived she to the Place de la Concorde where the people awaited her death, they cheered and shouted for today the hated queen of France was to meet her death.

She got from the cart before she was to ascend the steps to the scaffold a priest, a priest of reason no less said to her.

"Now is the time to arm yourself with courage, Madame" Said he

"Courage! I have shown it for years think you; I shall lose it when my sufferings are to end?" She said before she took the remaining strides to the dreaded national razor.

Before lowering herself she stepped on the executioner’s foot, by accident.

"Sorry sir, I didn't mean to" She said, to show this unlike many others was not of rebellion and that she did such by accident.

She lowered herself; her now grey hair had been cut for her children and her beloved. While all in the area were chanting and shouting for her death at the back a young child with his mother waved to her, he blew kisses to the queen, now not all of France hated her she now braced herself. One...two...three the dreaded blade of the national razor came crashing down and separated her body from her head. The crowd cheered minus those ladies who were royalist at heart had even begun to support her but to no avail her death had been secured long before this was to come about...

In the end was she as bad as the people thought, was she deserving of her fate, no she was but a woman with powerful enemies.