A/N: This is a very, very old fanfic I dug up from my emails the other day, so I've polished it up and published it! I hope you all enjoy reading and please feel free to review!
Warnings: This fic will contain character death, slavery, racism and mentions of torture and rape. Most of this happens later- just warning you now.
Without further ado, I give you...The Rose of Revolution!
Silence falls over the square as the white snow crunches under the prisoner's feet like a path of discarded bones. The boot clad feet making the footprints- and thus the only audible sound- belong to a dignified and slightly stout woman of 54 years, being led onto the guillotine in the cold, cutting winter of 1789.
She places her head through the hole without another word, feeling the wood caressing her neck. She closes her eyes for a moment, knowing that this would be the last thing she would feel, before
"Mama!" a tiny, high pitched voice cries across the crowd.
"Belle- my love!" A deeper, masculine voice calls out.
Opening her eyes, she looks to the left- over to where the voices had come from, even though she knows them both well. Two terrified faces peer out from wooden cages standing nearby, longing for their freedom and for their matriarch to be free from her bonds of death.
The queen looks up, and smiles a small, sad smile. Her hazel eyes, once aflame with kindness, courage and curiosity, are now dulled by the horrors she, her husband and their child face. Yet, a small spark of her old bravery remains, determined to see out the end of her life in as much dignity as she could- just as she had once given up her freedom years ago to a beast.
She surveys the crowd now baying for her blood, and near the front spies an aged and horrified Cogsworth, supported by his younger friend Lumiere and a now adult Chip- his dear mother, Mrs Potts, had died 2 years ago of old age.
They are the only loyal friends she and her family had left.
Unless...
No, he wouldn't...it would be too dangerous for him to come here.
It sickens her to think that she had once strolled along the streets of her little home town, dreaming of how she would travel the world someday.
Now, she was on the brink of death by the same people who once regarded her as odd and queer- simply for knowing the pleasures of a good book.
"The monarchy must die!" Yells a butcher roughly, and the crowd cheer as the executioner gets ready to drop the guillotine on her.
Closing her eyes, she thinks back to all that had happened since the month leading up to her coronation, and also up to now- and she feels tears burn in her eyes- a contrast to the cold, biting winds attacking her face and sinking their icy teeth into her pale skin.