Palace of Versailles, France, 1780.

For Prince Claude Demitresque, another Wednesday meant another wretched tea party with his wretched king of a brother, and his wretched courtly friends. These were the days that her dreaded; the hypocrisy, the warm tea, the less than palatable scones. Even more so now, he dreaded them because of the presence of his older brother’s new betrothed, Violet Xavier, a 26 year old prisoner from England. Every time saw her, he could see the fear and uncomfortability in her eyes.

Alexandre would make her sit on his lap, and would caress her incessantly, like she was a pet. All Alexandre’s disgustingly old court members would ogle her like a gorgeous bangled tiger, locked in a cage for speciation. And because she had no choice, she would sit there, her deep brown eyes focused on her hands, which were almost always fiddling with her sleeve, or the hem of her dress.

Her silent suffering became a familiar view for Claude on a Wednesday morning.

This morning was no different, as he sat across from his brother, Violet perched on his lap, his hand gripping her hips roughly; a caged animal playing a part for its owner.