Chapter 62
Chapter 62
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 062
Chapter Title: Habsburg-Lorraine
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Truth be told, I wanted to put off the wedding until next year if at all possible.
But what could I do when my dear father-in-law, going on about Confucian ideals of respecting elders and proper order, pressured me by saying that my quick marriage as the eldest son would ease the burden on my younger siblings?
Sure, there were plenty of cases in Europe where a second son married before the first, but no one could deny that it looked better if the eldest went first.
"What a frustrating fellow. I get that you want to wait until Theresia is a bit older to marry and dispel any suspicions. But you have to consider Theresia's feelings too—she's been dreaming of marrying you all this time."
"No... Your Majesty, it's not like that..."
"If it's not like that, then just get married. We've already announced it publicly at the triumphal procession. I trust you're not thinking of making me an emperor who goes back on his word."
"......"
Marriage... marriage. Suddenly, memories of the wedding from my past life flashed through my mind.
I could still vividly picture February 12, 1736.
Since we'd tied the knot at the Augustinian Church back then, this meant getting married a full year and a half earlier.
There wouldn't be any nitpickers like in my past life, and we'd be able to wed amid everyone's blessings. It really was the best outcome possible.
I had no desire to deny that. It was just... how should I put it?
"To be honest, Your Majesty, I want to give her a wedding of the century—one no other royal could dream of."
"...Ho? Is that so?"
Lots of people marry twice in life, but how many get to hold two ceremonies with the exact same partner?
And a second wedding where the bride is even younger than the first? Physically impossible, so there'd be no precedent.
"Now that it's been announced, we have to hold the ceremony. Still, rather than sticking to rigid traditions, I want a marriage that respects her wishes a bit more."
"Kukuku, you fool. If you really want to respect her wishes, marry her tomorrow. We've already got the betrothal contract signed and papal approval. What's left to hesitate over?"
"...You're right."
"So, let's schedule the proposal ceremony for a week from now. That alright?"
"Yes. We'll do that."
In this era, royal weddings always included an official proposal before the actual ceremony.
It wasn't just a simple proposal—it was a ritual where ambassadors from every nation gathered to declare the union irreversible.
It also had the bride personally nodding in acceptance, formally showing the marriage wasn't forced.
After all, under canon law, a marriage without both parties' free consent held no validity.
With the proposal and wedding dates set, Charles VI notified all the ambassadors in Vienna of the schedule.
Of course, word reached Theresia too.
"What do I do..."
Uncharacteristically, she avoided my eyes the whole time she sipped her coffee, keeping her face buried low.
"Now that the date's set, it feels awkward?"
"N-No... it's not awkward or anything..."
Now seventeen by the calendar, she bloomed like a fresh flower.
To my eyes, who knew how she'd look as a full-fledged lady, she still had a touch of youthful innocence—but anyone else would treat her as a proper adult now.
"I get it. We've been together since you were little, so actually getting married feels strange, bittersweet, a mix of emotions."
"No, it's not that. It's just..."
She trailed off, peeking up before our eyes met and ducking her head again.
Then she grabbed a cushion nearby, hugged it tight, and fidgeted helplessly.
"Why am I like this? I can't even look at you."
Ah, was she embarrassed?
Strictly speaking, our relationship had always been more teacher and student, protector and protected, than lovers.
Now, facing actual marriage, viewing each other that way felt totally different.
"If it's that bad, should I step out for a bit?"
"No, no! I'm fine. Just... give me a moment?"
She took deep breaths, then peeked at me over the cushion half-covering her face.
"We used to be so casual—why freeze up now? Don't overthink it; relax."
"How can I? Now I'm... going to be Franz's bride. Everyone's going to see the proposal."
"Guess so. Next week."
"Haa... my heart won't explode, right? Sorry, I really can't. I need to go back to my room and calm down."
She downed her coffee nearly in one go, shot to her feet, and hurried off at the fastest pace that wouldn't look undignified.
The servants who'd overheard wore warm smiles. I chuckled and raised my cup.
Over the rippling surface, I saw my reflection grinning just like them.
Jealous? My future wife's that adorable.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Theresia clutched her flushed cheeks and rushed back to her room.
Her senior maid, Maria Anna von Batthyány, who always stayed by her side, was visibly holding back a laugh.
"Anna, do I look ridiculous right now?"
"Not at all, Your Highness. You're the cutest and most beautiful in the world."
"Aah, seriously... I don't know what's wrong with me. Why can't I look Franz straight in the eye?"
"Must be because your long love for His Highness is finally bearing fruit. Anyone would feel the same."
Anna, who'd watched Theresia grow from childhood, knew full well how deeply she'd loved all these years.
"Just look at that diary you showed me before. Page after page about His Highness Franz. Anyone would mistake it for an observation report on him."
"Aaaaaah! Don't bring that up! You haven't peeked at the recent ones, right? No recent ones?"
"I only saw what you showed me. The latest was from a few years back, when His Highness went to Berlin. 'I want to be with Franz 365 days, 24 hours a day, but Friedrich and Papa keep getting in our way.' That's what it said, I remember."
"Uwaaaah! Erase it from your memory! Please!"
Theresia wanted to pummel her past self for showing that diary—pure black history—to anyone.
Was I insane? What made me think sharing that was okay?
Did past me not know shame?
"Your Highness, even without the diary, I remember everything you always used to say."
"What? What did I say?"
"When His Highness went off to war, you were so worried you clung to me crying. You hated being apart, so you kept his portrait under your pillow and said daily masses until he returned safely. Who do you think was there the whole time?"
"...This is serious. If someone else acted like that around me, I'd never make such a fuss."
"Of course not. It was sweet, and I was jealous that you could return such immense love to someone."
A senior court maid serving a young royal spent more time with them than their own parents—practically a childhood companion.
Anna's eyes brimmed with inexpressible affection as she watched the girl she'd raised become a lady on the cusp of marriage.
"You'll be the most beautiful bride in the world, Your Highness."
"Thanks. But more than that, I want to be a wife Franz can rely on. After all, I'm the Habsburg heiress."
"You'll surely become that."
Theresia had read detailed reports on the war's progress and Austria's and Prussia's great victories.
Friedrich's heroic triumph caught the eye, but she believed Franz's contributions were greater.
This wasn't bias toward her lover.
Friedrich had won big, but Austria's victory was already all but assured before that battle.
She saw how crucial pre-war diplomacy was, how deftly manipulating foreign desires could bend events to your will.
Unable to fight on the battlefield herself, she now knew her path clearly.
From here on, she wouldn't just follow in Franz's footsteps in her strengths—she'd support him as his wife.
But first...
"Um, Anna. That... thing you told me last time... about how to kiss well..."
It was time to study what they called "marital duties" before the wedding.
Anna smiled warmly and sat beside her.
"Of course. As I said before, don't kneel first to your husband, just a tiny bit of lavender oil on your hair, and..."
Theresia diligently took notes, not missing a word.
This was the hardest she'd ever studied, swear to God.
Thinking of that day made her heart feel like it would burst.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Hofburg Palace's 'Red Salon'.
Here, amid ambassadors from countless nations, I once more voiced my eternal vow.
"Most dignified and great Emperor, and merciful future father-in-law, I humbly beseech you.
I confess that my body and blood belong eternally to Your Majesty, and with the utmost loyalty, I swear to serve Your Majesty and Your house.
Thus, I earnestly request the noble hand of Crown Princess Maria Theresia. I promise to cherish her with a Christian's faith, exalt her honor, and defend the Austrian hereditary lands with my life."
The script the servants prepared was much the same as back then.
What had changed were the gazes upon me and the emperor's stature.
Yet those two shifts alone transformed the room's atmosphere beyond recognition.
It'd be weirder if it hadn't.
In my past life, this came after a decisive loss in the War of the Polish Succession, with even my Lorraine fief handed to France.
This time, we'd scored historic victories, secured French consent to make Lorraine an imperial demesne, and swallowed Tuscany whole.
With the Empire and Emperor's prestige soaring, other nations had no choice but to treat our union with utmost gravity.
Not just electors, but foreign powers sent multiple diplomats, queuing up outside the Red Salon.
Theresia sat demurely beside Charles VI, awaiting his words. The emperor soon boomed his response for all to hear.
"We, Emperor of the Empire, grant Franz Stefan's earnest request, and sternly charge him to uphold the honor of the Imperial House and Crown Princess."
Next, the Empress pinned a diamond-framed portrait of me to Theresia's chest.
Now, her nod would end the rite.
Instead, Theresia slowly brought the miniature portrait to her lips and planted a light kiss.
The ambassadors, seeing her blushing face, smiled softly in hushed delight. The faint tension in the salon visibly eased.
These heartwarming vibes were rare at royal weddings. Even my heart raced.
Thus ended the proposal, like a scene from a youth drama, followed by a grand banquet that evening.
"Congrats, bro! To the dawn of Habsburg-Lorraine—toast!"
Quiet down, you idiot.
My ambition incarnate of a little brother was thrilled as if it were his own wedding, grin ear to ear.
"Soon it'll be me and Princess Wilhelmina too—this is double good fortune! Man, I can't wait to marry."
"Marriage isn't as simple as you think. She's coming all the way to Vienna for you, so treat her right and ease her worries. Got it?"
"Duh. We'll be just as lovey-dovey as you guys. We talked last time—our chemistry's perfect. Must be fate, right?"
"Surprising. That good a match?"
Considering his ambition, they might suit, but did Wilhelmina open up like that to others?
Noticing my subtle expression, he cleared his throat and whispered low.
"Yeah, I was shocked too. Thought you were no joke, but wow—to dunk a whole king?"
"...What?"
"That Brandenburg Elector, bedridden? Your doing, right? I thought my ears deceived me at first."
Wilhelmina, you blabbermouth!
Said she wouldn't tell a soul, but loose lips much?
"Bro, you're seriously misunderstanding..."
"Nah, don't worry. I found out by lucky coincidence. She said we're close, so I bragged no secrets between us, even your deepest ones. She got this meaningful look. I teased if you weren't tight with Brandenburg too, mentioned our Berlin chat—and she was amazed."
"......"
"I meant our ghost company nibbling Baltic trade, but she figured since she trusted me that much, I should know: Friedrich basically wields kingly power. Your stuff came up too."
Ah.
The story went totally off the rails.
Hard to blame her—anyone'd assume Karl knew about the tobacco ploy.
But I remembered it as those filial siblings pushing it unilaterally, not my plan.
"Bro, everything you heard is exaggerated."
"I know. Tomb-secret level. If anyone accuses, it's grave slander—hit back hard. Don't sweat it; I'm proud. King or elector, if they block you, poof—gone. Awesome!"
Sigh, yap away.
No point raising my voice on a joyous day.
As I tsked and reached for wine...
A staffer hurried in, approached casually, and slipped me a note.
-Brandenburg Elector presumed dead or comatose.
What the hell?
Did Friedrich, fresh off war heroics and triumph, lock Dad in the bedroom for a 'crown prince purge'?
No—it's just presumption. Verify credibility first, then letter to Friedrich for confirmation.
"No way...!"
While I pondered, Charles peeked at the note, eyes widening before shifting to awe.
"Bro... what are you...?"
As if. How far would he inflate my feats?
Wilhelm's oblivious to the end. Should've held out till after the wedding—what now?