The Prisoner
By: Manna


A few years ago, the queen of France would never have thought she would find herself in a place such as this. Concierge Prison was certainly not the place to be; it was far from glorious or fun.

But…how had she managed to end up within the dank interior?

Of course; the cake. It had been a little harsh, hadn't it? Perhaps. Was that why Oscar had turned against her at the last moment? At the beginning and before the Revolution, Marie Antoinette had never thought that one of her dearest and oldest friends could have drifted so far from her as to turn her heart and her mind away. Had she been too proud? But…she was the queen of France! She was born and bred and destined by God to be proud and the very picture of nobility.

Oh, none of that mattered now. Oscar was dead—buried only God knew where—and she, Marie Antoinette of France, would soon follow her.

Suddenly, an image flashed across her mind. A woman she had not given any thought to for many years was glaring at her, chin sticking out slightly as she was forcefully removed from the beside of Louis XV. She could still hear that woman's horrid screaming as she was dragged away.

Was that where it had all started? Her refusal to acknowledge Madame du Barry couldn't have had anything to do with the French Revolution or the anger of the commonfolk! It was just not possible! She had been the crown princess then, and she had done what had felt right at the time. Even if she could go back and do it all over again, she would not change even the smallest thing concerning her behavior toward that sordid woman!

Wasn't it better to starve to death than to sell your body? Wasn't it better in the eyes of God?

She ran her hand through her white hair, the texture rough compared to what it had been in the days of her youth. Her beautiful hair was gone, her children were gone, her husband was gone, and Fersen might as well be gone. Oh, and Oscar François de Jarjayes was the furthest gone of them all, her body likely eaten by worms. She would be a part of the soil of France by now, perhaps.

It is better this way, though, isn't it?

Yes, it was. She'd had nothing but time to think about the course of time—what had happened and what she had done. And looking back, she wondered how many times Oscar or Louis-Auguste or Fersen wanted to tell her to change her ways but ended up unable to do so for one reason or another. Was it their place to say such things to her? Only Louis had a right, but he always let her do as she pleased.

So, how had she ended up in this prison cell?


It could only be love.

And the greatest of these is love. Certainly those words were true. Love was so great and powerful that it could easily overcome and overshadow all other thoughts, all other emotions. It even had the ability to do away with rationality and common sense.

She had shown favor—for love—had tried to buy the love of friends…had been foolish enough to ignore the love others had for money and position…had fallen into a forbidden love.

And Fersen, Oscar, and Louis had said nothing…because of love.

So it was all because of love then, wasn't it? She, Marie Antoinette, Queen of France, was now nothing but a prisoner. A prisoner of love.


Author Notes:

I've been meaning to write this for awhile, and I worked on it over the course of two weeks. The end…it came to me so suddenly and forcefully that I had to use it. Before I started writing, I only had a vague idea of which direction I wanted to take with this piece. Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it; I should have more 'fics out soon.

"...And the greatest of these is love." Translated from the Bible. 1 Corinthians 13:13 "And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity."