Palace of Versailles, France
December 1837
Winter had settled over Versailles in a way that felt quiet but constant. It did not arrive with storms or sudden frost that forced people to react overnight. Instead, it came slowly, almost unnoticed at first. The air grew colder each morning, the kind of cold that lingered even when the sun was high. By midday, the chill had already seeped into the stone walls of the palace, and by nightfall, it settled fully, pressing against the windows and finding its way into every corridor.
Outside, the gardens had grown still.
The long paths that once carried movement now stood empty beneath a pale sky. The trimmed hedges had lost their color, and the trees, stripped of their leaves, stretched upward like dark lines against the horizon. The fountains still ran, but their flow had slowed, subdued by the cold, as if even the water moved with less energy than before.
Everything looked the same at a glance.
