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Oscar had woken up from a bad night.
She loved celebrating Paris new freedom. The fervor inevitably reached the heart, even if she never liked the violence inherently present in the streets with what was happening in the country. She knew it came from both sides ; both the army and the people held violent strings against each other.
But Oscar had been in the army long enough to notice that the soldiers she had trained to kill were using their skills on bakers, farmers, ordinary people who pushed them away with pitchforks.
She had picked her side. And it was not for popularity, or for being remembered in history books. In fact, she had thought it would probably be the opposite. By joining the Revolution, by betraying the nobility, she had probably thrown more disappointment on her name than anyone before her.
But doing the right thing probably always felt like a pang to the heart. At least that is how she always felt it. Being safe and happy was not her comfort zone.
Hiding was not in Oscar’s nature. She straightened her posture, keeping her sword at her hip as she took the stairs down.
André had established their quarter in this room since a few weeks now, but the employees always seemed hostile towards her. She did not mind. She would have acted the same towards them, she knew it.
André smiled as he saw her.
“Oscar ! Finally. There are a few protests already planned today. Nothing much but-”
People screamed and ran outside, and Oscar immediately stopped listening to him. People running like that was never a good thing. If the army was charging, they would have to leave the inn by behind…
“The queen ! They are going to kill the queen !”
The man shouting was not smiling. He was not sad either, just… Shocked. Flaggerblasted.
Because it could not be true. No one would dare touch the royal family.
Andre tried to hold her back, but she easily let him go, following the crowd outside without feeling her own legs. She hated the way they were taking, following Paris streets to the place where the guillotine was installed.
She was far, but the crowd was already taking place. The blade was clean from where she was standing, shining in the morning light.
Andre followed her, gripping her arm. She was not stronger, but he understood he would not take her away.
“Oscar… Come on, let’s go… You don’t have to stay…” Andre whispered, following her as she got closer to the stage.
Oscar did not wanted to see this. It was hard, it was too hard… But it could not be true. And she had to make sure that the blade would cut the neck of an imposter, not the white neck of the girl she had learned to love like a sister.
“Oscar, seriously. Please. Don’t stay.” Andre got pressing, but the crowd was stronger.
Oscar stayed. For several hours, she stood there, getting closer and closer to the guillotine. The blade was shining in the sun. Oscar remembered liking the effect when she cleaned her sword at the morning light.
Andre always tried to take her away. He threatened her, he forced her, he got softer. Nothing worked, Oscar stayed on her feet, in front of the deadly invention.
When the queen walked in, everyone stopped talking. Oscar watched her, not recognizing the white hair.
So maybe there was a chance. That this person was not the princess she had protected from Austria.
But those blue eyes which looked at the crowd with a sad expression…
Marie had grown up. She had became a queen, a mother, in a country that had grown to hate her without her taking it seriously.
Oscar felt sorry for her. Because she had known her personally, and she knew she had betrayed her…
Oscar was loyal to her nation. And Marie had decided to trust her birth country too.
It was the same thing on two opposite ends of a spectrum.
Oscar was glad to loose a queen, and sad to mourn a friend.