France sat back in his chair, sipping at the pinot noire in his crystal wine glass. His taste buds absorbed the taste of the 219 year old wine. It tasted succulent and tart, an it left that bittersweet taste as it slushed down his throat.
"1793," France mused to himself. He chuckled softly to himself, though it was not a joyful laugh. There was malice behind the it. Malice aimed at himself. 1793 was a year France never forgot nor came to forgive himself for. It was one of the years where the blood of men, women, and children flowed through the streets of France. France rubbed his temple as he tried to remember what went wrong. The beginning of the Revolution had been glorious, so ideological, and so awe inspiring. France was too blinded by the light of hope for a beautiful France to see how quickly the Revolution took a turn for the worst. The Revolution that was to make him glorious, turned into a Terror that would raise the question of how glorious the Revolution was. France cringed as he remembered the many people who bowed to Madame Guillotine. He closed his eyes as he remembered one person in particular. The one person in particular who made him truly regret the year of 1793, was none other than Queen Marie.
France smiled grimly as he had a saudade about beautiful Marie Antoinette. He remembered first laying eyes upon the Austrian princess, how her blue eyes glistened, how her blond locks glowed, and how her sweet smile matched her cheerful and innocent nature. France smiled fondly at how well Austria had prepped her to be Queen of France. He knew it must of pained Austria dearly to give up a jewel this dazzling. France recalled how playful and lively Marie was, and how they would tease and flirt with each other. He recalled when they gossiped with each other, how they discussed the latest fashions, and all the extravagant balls they attended. Even though France cared deeply for Marie, he cared for his people as well, and he began to realize it was only a matter of time before they would revolt. France warned Marie that the people would take a stand if she were to keep up such an expensive lifestyle, but she was too silly, ignorant, and naive to listen.
Eventually, France gave up on her, and sided with the people. He left her to be imprisoned by the peasants and to be uncomforted while her king was executed. Somehow, France was able escape his Revolution hypnotized state, and realize that it was no longer a Revolution. France remembered when he saw Marie, and how broken she was. Her children were taken away from her, and she was accused of horrendous crimes that she would never commit. France remembered watching her at her sentencing. She no longer wore that cheerful smile and her eyes were so devoid. Her free spirit was broken, and now she was just a walking shell of the woman she once was. France watched a distance away as he watched Marie make her way slowly to the scaffold. He watched as the condemned queen apologized for stepping on her executioners foot. He watched her take the final bow. He recalled that while the blade fell, France closed his eyes, and thought of Jeanne.