Rose of Versailles belongs to Riyoko Ikeda.

Warning: slight mentions of death and adult themes

Memories of the past

She never dreamed that she would be standing here

Not so much as to what she was doing, since that has remained the same, but more of whose side she on. Or rather, who she was fighting against.

Her father would probably disown her if she didn't already choose to abandon the privileges granted to her by birth and position.

Rising from the hard ground she slept on, she started to prepare for the day while reminiscing about her past.

'Congratulations Oscar, the King has appointed you to be commander of the Dauphine's guards. Are you pleased?'

'Indeed I am Father, I am overjoyed to be honoured so.'

'Exactly, this is a great honour for you and our family, your future in the military is secure.'

'I know father.'

She had been so happy at the time. She had finally accomplished what her father had wanted her to do from the very beginning since she was born. Her gender was a disappointment, but when did trivial matters like that get in the way of General Jarjayes' ambitions.

Brushing the dirt off her shirt, she remembered her first heroic task.

'Oscar, you have saved the Dauphine's life, I am very proud of you.'

'Thank you father, it was my duty and I will not hesitate to do it again should it become necessary.'

'I know, my son.'

Oh her foolish father, his greatest mistake was thinking that a girl could be a boy in mind and soul. Perhaps it worked while she was young, but not now, not anymore.

Pulling on her boots, she lost her balance and fell onto the hard ground. Another reminder of the life she left behind.

Oscar watched the girl go, she was so young and yet already willing to sell her body for money.

Were there other girls her age, or perhaps even younger, doing the same thing?

No doubt the other nobleman who received the same offer were not as honourable as Oscar was. What was Paris, or maybe all of France even, coming to? Why was the King doing nothing about this poverty? Did the Queen know that while she spent a fortune on new dresses everyday, young girls were selling their virtue for bread?

Was this was du Barry had been talking about? Oscar had not payed much attention at the time.

She watched the girl fade into the distance with the one livre. It was a small pittance for Oscar to spare, but obviously meant a day's meal for the girl and her family, or would it last her a week? A month?

Oscar would spend it all in a day.

As she buttoned her coat, she looked at the smudges of dirt and blood. Nanny always had a clean one prepared each day, but now, she will have to do everything by herself.

She had no idea how much her lifestyle cost, all she knew was that her family were financially able to pay for all of their earthly comforts. Each of her sisters had been married off with large dowries and when they lived together years ago they always wore the latest fashions at court.

She never thought about how differently other people could have lived, not until she experienced it herself.

Oscar sat there and had never been more ashamed of herself.

Rosalie, sweet Rosalie, who had been prepared to sell her body some years ago, gave Oscar the best soup she could prepare and what did Oscar do? Ask for entree and appetisers, what a fool she was.

Rosalie, who left the comfortable life Oscar gave her, just so Oscar would not be caught in Madame de Polignac's schemes, and now saved Oscar's life.

The luxuries of Versailles were intoxicating and it's difficult to look upon the stinking slums of Paris when the ballroom is sparkling with jewels.

What an ignorant fool she had been.

She tied her sword to her belt and stared at it. The sword, a gift from her father for her 30th birthday, was made of the best steel a sword could have. But having a good sword did not mean having a good swordsman.

If she was to live by her own means from now on, perhaps she should sell it. She could use any common sword and win a battle with her skill and experience.

Alain de Soissons is a fine example.

When Oscar first met Alain, she thought him rude and arrogant but couldn't dismiss him due to the loyalty he held among the other men.

She had hoped that the duel would settle the matter, but even then she still wasn't an acceptable leader. After all, how could she, a gently raised noble, expect the commoner men of the French Guards to accept her as one of their own.

Oscar had been taught from the moment she could hold a sword that a leader should never show their weakness in front of their followers.

But on that day, when her men blatantly ignored her orders, she felt so useless. The Royal Guards would obey her every word, many of them went to the Academy with her, but they were the well-pampered sons of the aristocracy, not the soul-hardened men of the French Guards.

Yet their souls were not made of stone, because her emotional display managed to get through those cracks. Things improved between them after that, except Alain.

Oscar had been horrified to learn that Alain had assaulted a superior officer, but a few moments later she realized she would have done the same, and more, had she been in his circumstances.

Diane, another sweet girl. Her joyful life was cut off just as it was starting to bloom.

Alain had been devastated, Oscar couldn't blame him. Walking in to find your sister's corpse hanging would've shocked any reasonable human being. The only thing she could do to support him was to give him more time to grieve.

Checking her pistol, she was almost prepared for the day's battle. Yesterday's battle had taken a hard toll on all of them, her most of all, it took more from her then she ever thought it could.

Of course, how could Oscar's past ever be complete without him, the one consistency who has remained with her throughout all those years the moment she set her eyes on him when she was merely seven years old.

Andre Grandier: servant, soldier, citizen of the revolution.

He had many admirable qualities.

He was her dearest friend for the past 26 years. She had thought of him as the brother she never had, and she knew that sometimes her father wanted to think of him as the son he never had.

Andre was a true friend, staying by her side through the good times and the bad.

Yet he was not a brother.

He would have been her husband.

The only way she could define him now is her lover, whom she shared one blissful night of passion with. That was no doubt the best night of her life.

Oscar had of course, known of the happenings between a man and woman. Her early days as a Royal Guard told her more information than she needed.

Experiencing it however, was quite another.

'Captain, are you ready?'

The voice came from just behind her, she turned and saw Alain. He was dishevelled, all of them were.

Oscar turned around and looked at the body lying there. Andre looked so peaceful in his eternal sleep, a thin sheet covered him body but his face remained uncovered at Oscar's request. She stayed by his side all night, praying that Andre was only playing a prank on her, as he did many times when they were children, and would soon get up again.

He didn't, and she knew it, she just wouldn't accept it yet. She probably never will.

Oscar turned and pushed a stray lock back. She was by no means vain but she did take great pride in caring for her hair, and was notorious at court for refusing to wear a wig.

'Alain.'

'Yes Captain?'

She gazed at him intently for a moment, and then made her decision. "Tidy yourself, and tell that to the rest of the men. I will not have my French Guards marching into battle looking like children leaving the mud.'

'But Captain…'

'Do it, just brush the dust off, and try your best with the blood.'

There must've been something in her tone, because Alain didn't hesitate again. 'I will Captain.' With that, Alain left her to her peaceful silence.

Turning around, she looked upon what remained of the only man she would ever love as a woman. 'My Andre…' Tears welled in her eyes, 'Mon amour, Mon Mari, je t'aime.' She placed one last kiss on his cold lips, and left.

As she walked out, Oscar François de Jarjayes - no - Oscar François Grandier - she will go by that name from now on – died. Her heart's true joys were short lived, but she would treasure those memories for the rest of her life. She may be a girl, but she was a son, and was blessed by Mars, God of war, since Venus had clearly forsaken her.

Brigadier General de Jarjayes stepped out into the light of the dawn, and with one last glance behind her, she closed the doors on her past.

Truly, Oscar François de Jarjayes died the moment Andre did. How could one be complete when their other half had been so cruelly taken from them.

With her golden locks swaying in the light breeze, she swore another vow.

From this moment onwards, Oscar's only duty will be to protecting France and seeing her beautiful country flourish, because that was the goal which had been his last. He had given his life for her. She will now do the same for her Andre, her soulmate.

Vive la France

The End

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this little piece. Please leave a review with your thoughts :)

This is a oneshot I wrote for Bastille day because I felt like taking a quick return to Rose of Versailles fanfiction. I do not have any plans of continuing this as a story but I will consider more oneshots as future chapters. But for now, its complete.

Note: In the anime it appeared as if Andre's body was placed in a church, and Oscar wandered around Paris in grief... The manga does not show much of what happened between Andre's death and the next day, so this is what I imagine happened in the manga.

'Mon amour, Mon Mari, je t'aime' - My love, my husband, I love you.