Prologue
The guillotine's blade fell upon my neck and I lost my head, literally. The crowd cheered, shouts of "The Queen is dead!" filled the air as blood ran over the stage, ruining my beautiful dress. Why then, did I wake a few days later, head re-attached may I add, in a small sea-side town in Wales, named Cardiff? I knew no other language but French and Austrian. I had no money on my person and wound up begging. A Gentleman took pity on me and brought me to his home, enchanted by my beauty. He taught me both Welsh and English and we married, and had 3 lovely children. Alas, the years past and I watched my children and husband die, yet death would not take me. It is now 215 years to the day that I was beheaded in the hight of the French resolution and I look no older than 38, the age I was when I died. My name is Maria Antonia Josepha Johanna von Habsburg-Lothringen, also known as Marie Antoinette, and I was the Dauphine and Queen of France in the latter half of the 1700's.