1775 June 12 – Paris, France

Diary, June 12th was a night wrapped in elegance and whispered secrets. I found myself at a royal ball at the Palace of Versailles, a spectacle of opulence where the glittering lights were only outshone by the guests themselves. Amidst the swirl of gowns and the clinking of fine china, my path crossed with none other than Marie Antoinette.

The queen was a vision, her presence commanding the room with an effortless grace. Our eyes met across the crowded hall, and it was like the world paused for a heartbeat. Drawn together as if by an unseen force, we shared a dance that felt like a moment suspended in time.

The dance floor was a sea of twirling figures, but for us, it was as though we were the only ones there. Marie's laughter was a melody that echoed in my heart, her movements in our dance a perfect harmony to my steps. The conversation flowed as easily as the wine, witty repartee mixed with flirtatious undertones.

As the evening wore on, Marie led me through a hidden door and into the palace gardens. Under the starlit sky, our conversation deepened, touching on dreams, desires, and the burdens of royalty. There was a vulnerability to Marie that few saw, a glimpse behind the royal facade.

The hours slipped away as we wandered the gardens, lost in conversation. Our time together was a delicate dance of words and glances, a connection that was as profound as it was forbidden.

As dawn began to break, casting a soft light over Versailles, we parted ways, knowing that our paths might never cross in such a way again. I left the palace with a sense of wonder, the memory of the evening forever etched in my heart.

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