I learned that I am going to be French today. I guess you think congratulations are in order. I suppose . I mean, you probably think I’m the luckiest girl in the world. When you’re an archduchess -of The HOLY ROMAN FREAKING EMPIRE- no less, it’s pretty much a given that you’ll get a decent marriage. Especially when your mama is a bombass Empress who has no idea how to be anything less than fantastic. Throw in a king who is not playing by mama’s rules ( King George III of England )and the youngest daughter(me) who needs a powerful alliance (aka marriage) and voila … you have a new home in the most important, elegant and notoriously extravagant court in all Europe. France.
I’m not really a fan of politics or alliances or anything that has no fun in it but I hear that Mama hates the French. So why did she ship me in her words “straight to the lion’s den ?” To France -a land of the most wicked king in the world?
Well, simply put it it’s that my mama hates the English even more than she hates the French king, a pompous prig whose name is Louis XV who in turn hates old George III as well so there you go -and, it’s the only logical solution. The enemies of your enemies are your friends. I think that’s how it goes. But I’m not really sure what it means other than that I am going to France. Quite the honor, you see .
What could possibly go wrong?
Absolutely everything. I’m 13 and 41 minutes old, to be exact and I’m exactly what I’m supposed to be. Young, frivolous and carefree. I love dogs and dancing. I am a happy and naive girl that is the hope of the Hapburg dynasty.
Who am I, you ask?
Oops, you mean I didn’t properly introduce myself? My name is Maria Antonia Josepha but you can call me Marie Antoinette.