May, 1770

The large, grand carriage bumped and rolled on over the countryside, dodging thick clusters of trees to ensure the safety of its precious cargo. It thundered through old, dead leaves and rich clumps of moss to the border, then stopped suddenly. The footman, dressed in a uniform of bright, Austrian colors jumped off the back of the carriage, knocked on the door, loudly saying, "Archduchess Antoine! We have arrived at the border."

Francis stood attentively, barely remaining inside the French border, eager to meet his new Dauphine. After years of bloodshed, the Seven Years' War had ended and a peace document was to be signed. In order to restore relations with the Austrian Empire, France requested a Dauphine from the Royal Family. In 1766, Maria Theresa promised her 15th child, Maria Antonia, to be the young Dauphin, the King's grandson's, betrothed.

Francis felt like he shouldn't be so nervous, but he couldn't help it. He'd seen generations and generations of dauphines come across the border, come to Versailles -or to the Louvre Palace before Versailles was constructed-and live out their royal lives which sometimes ended in tragedy and sometimes in splendor, so it was only natural to be worried. But this was different; he felt a deep, ugly fear bubbling in his stomach for the future of his new princess. This feeling, however, faded when the carriage opened and a few ladies-in-waiting popped out, followed by who Francis assumed was the Dauphine and Roderich Edelstein, France's old rival.

Words could not describe the beauty of the petit princesse before him; her hair was the color of golden honey, her skin very pale with barely a blemish upon her face. Her eyes were cerulean and looked as if the sea itself was churning and whirling about inside them, and her frame was slight. She wore a pink Austrian-style dress and her hair lay down on her shoulders in loose curls.

The young girl, followed by her ladies and her country, crossed the wooded path to the edge of the border towards Countess Noailles. The Countess introduced herself and curtsied lowly to the princess, who in turn did the same.

"Hello," she smiled, outstretching her arms to hug the Countess heartily. Countess Noailles froze, stiffly returning the embrace. "It is so very nice to meet you."

'Her French,' Francis thought. 'Is atrocious. As are her court manners. They will improve in time, however. Let's just hope she doesn't greet the King in this way..."

After an appropriate amount of time, the Countess rather awkwardly pried herself off the princess and smoothed her thick skirts.

"Well then," Noailles began, huffing. "You sure do have a lot of...energy... It's best we get started. Let me present to you, Archduchess Maria Antonia Josepha Johanna of Habsburg, the human incarnation of your new country, Sir Francis Bonnefoy."

Antoine looked over the Countess's shoulder to see a tall, rather handsome, lanky man, his light blonde hair just beyond his shoulders tied neatly behind him with a blue ribbon, dressed stylishly in a silver suit and waistcoat. He moved across the border towards her, smiled when their eyes met and bowed gracefully in front of the young girl. With a dusty pink blush appearing on her cheeks, Antoine returned the expected curtsy. Francis laughed softly at her nervousness and bent down on one knee, took her hand gently in his, and kissed it sweetly.

"Tis a pleasure to finally meet you, ma petit Princesse."

She giggled at this and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead, to which Francis' eyes opened widely. Peering over the young girl's shoulder, Francis could see Roderich glaring piercingly at him. Francis, however, did not let this make him faulter; he simply looked back to the lady standing in front of him and smiled.

Standing up, Francis gave Antoine one last cheeky grin before looking to the embassy-official and signaling to begin the ceremony. The official nodded, then motioned for Antoine to stand beside her country. Roderich put a protective hand upon the young lady's shoulder, but indicated proceeding was quite alright.

"Archduchess Maria Antoina Josepha Johanna of the House of Habsburg of the Emprie of Austria," the official began, placing his hands behind his back. "In the Handover ceremony, you shall enter the tent on Austrian soil, be relieved of all your Austrian duties, and exit on French soil, the Dauphine of France and to-be wife of Louis XVI, the next King of France. Do you accept this?"

"I accept this as my duty," Antoine said, her voice taking on a serious tone. She turned to Roderich and slowly hugged her country of origin, his long arms cradling her. They remained like that for a few moments, then, summoning all of her courage, she broke away to face the official, Noailles, and Francis.

The official turned to the two countries. "Roderich Eidelstein, human incarnation of the great land of Austria, do you consent to the giving of Archduchess Maria Antonia Josepha Johanna of Austria?"

"I do," Roderich said solemnly.

"And you, Francis Bonnefoy, human incarnation of the great land of France, do you accept on the behalf of the French people Empress Maria Theresa's gift of her 15th daughter, Archduchess Maria Antonia Josepha Johanna?"

"Oui, I do," Francis replied.

"Then, in the eyes of those here and the eyes of the Lord our God, I officially pronounce Archduchess Maria's Austrian citizenship revoked. My dear Dauphine, you are now a citizen of the Kingdom of France."

Antoine cleared her throat and curtsied to Roderich one last time, then to Francis and the embassy-official, then took the stiff powdered glove of Countess Noailles and followed her to the tent. Looking over her shoulder one last time, Antoine mouthed a quick 'ich liebe dich' to Roderich before being yanked into the tent.

"Francis," Roderich said coldly. "I would advise for you to keep your eyes on her, as she is a frivolous thing, but your hands off. You may look to be of the young age of 24 and not  926, but Antoine is only a child and she will be pure for her husband."

Francis' mouth opened in a mixture of disgust and surprise. "You think that I do not know that? As the representation of the people of France I have many things I must do with the petit princesse, but desecrating her purity is not on that list! I am her protector now, not you."

"One wrong step," Roderich hissed, turning sharply on his heel and straightening his spectacles. "And France will burn."

Roderich began to walk away from his new 'ally' and stood with Antoine's former ladies-in-waiting for some time before being told he had to leave the border. Roderich nodded, gazing at the tent one last time before entering the carriage and preparing to thunder off back to Lorraine, just as quickly as he'd came.

_____________________________

"Not even my ring?"

"No, Marie Antoinette, you can keep no relics from a foreign court; you are French now."

Francis gazed into the tent, watching in sympathy as the young girl before him was poked, proded, and roughly de-clothed until she stood naked in every sense of the word, shivering in the middle of the tunnel-shaped tent. A mousy, spectacled physician brutally examined her in hopes to ascertain whether her precious virginity was still intact, then signaled the ladies of the tent that their great work was to commence. Courtiers and hand-maidens yanked on stockings, a tight corset, and layers upon layers of undergarments before slipping on the large hoopskirt and overskirt. They furiously brushed her hair up into a tight updo with the illusion of loose curls and topped the hairstyle with a small, feminine tricorn hat, powder blue like her elaborate dress. They slipped her shoes and gloves on, showered her in French jewelry, gave her an elegant hand fan, and after all that, shoved her out of the tent, now on French soil. Flustered and hot, the young girl huffed loudly as she glared back at the torturous tent, her eyes still red from crying as her Austrian party departed. Marie Antoinette was now surrounded by utter unfamiliarity, and Francis definitely knew how scary that could be, especially for a young girl who had only just turned 14. And yet, he also knew he could not yet embrace the young woman, to make her feel safe, for there was still official business to be attended to: presenting her to King Louis XV and the young Dauphin.

"How rude they are," the Dauphine muttered in German, hoping no one would hear. "My treatment at Versailles better be more friendly than this..."

"I assure you it will be, ma petit princesse," Francis interjected, emerging from the side of the horrid tent and making his way towards the obviously embarrassed Marie. "Versailles is the pinacle of all things luxurious and glorious in this world. You shall want for nothing, and live all of your days in happiness."

"I-I... excuse my utterly shameable words, Sir Bonnefoy, for I did not realize you spoke German. I am sure I will be very happy at Versailles, I'm just... I've been torn from everything I know... It's alarming to say the least."

"I know, my dear lady," Francis sighed softly, taking her gloved hand in his own. "But I and Countess Noailles shall do everything in our power to make sure you are settled and content and comfortable as quickly as possible. Whatever you may need, I shall see to it that you attain it."

"It is in times like these that I am reminded of the goodness in the world, Sir Bonnefoy. You embody it."

"I am simply that of the people of  France."

"Well if you are," the young girl smiled gently. "Then my life shall be filled with immeasurable happiness."