Galloping Secrets and Courtly Whispers
Pauline had thought, when the Empress first summoned her, that she intended to use the Metternich family's influence to subtly check the Archduchess from sight.
At their first tea party encounter, Pauline had figured that the moment the Empress stepped into high society, she'd conquer it in no time.
Sisi's beauty was the kind that captivated men and women alike. In stark contrast, Pauline lacked confidence in her own looks—she'd even mock herself as Vienna's ugliest woman, yet one overflowing with charm, like a monkey brimming with appeal.
But interest in her quickly faded from society circles. Everyone in Vienna knew the Empress despised high society and rarely appeared.
'Even when she hosted a salon, she only invited a select few.'
And their personalities were polar opposites.
The introverted, freedom-loving Sisi and the extroverted, trendsetting Pauline.
Such was Pauline, now staring dumbfounded at the Empress merged as one with her horse.
'Didn't she ask for my help?'
Those words rang hollow as Sisi continued to unleash a dazzling array of maneuvers.
Pauline doubted her own eyes. The Empress barely touched the reins. With just subtle shifts of her weight in the saddle, the massive horse moved as if reading her very thoughts.
When the Empress halted the horse, it stopped dead, but its energy didn't. The hooves began dancing in place.
Under the chandelier's glow, the horse's sweat-slicked muscles rippled, and Empress and steed displayed a buoyant trot that defied gravity itself.
"Your Majesty?"
The Empress seemed not to hear her call.
Sisi shifted ever so slightly once more, and the horse advanced.
'With skills like that, why ask me?'
Why had she pleaded in such a frail voice, 'My legs have no strength at all,' begging for help?
'This is a test.'
The Empress was undoubtedly testing her now. Whether she was friend-worthy enough to share this secret, or ally material for political maneuvers.
As Pauline floundered in confusion, the Empress wheeled her horse at the riding arena's end.
A pirouette spinning like a top. The hind legs as pivot, tracing a flawless circle without losing rhythm for an instant.
And then the most demanding feat.
The Empress gathered the reins. The horse lowered its powerful hindquarters, coiling inward... and reared.
Front legs tucked neatly against its chest, it balanced perfectly on its hind legs like a statue. And atop that perilous sidesaddle, Sisi held her poise with a serene expression.
Completing a circuit of the arena, Sisi returned with an oh no look on her face, flashing Pauline an awkward smile.
"As you can see, Pauline. My body won't obey me... It's all because I didn't recover properly after childbirth."
Pauline swallowed dryly.
'...Normal noblewomen don't perform equestrian wizardry like that.'
She pondered how to respond to the Empress's brazen joke.
I have no idea what just happened either.
It felt like the horse moved on its own? I was so in sync, I couldn't tell if I was the horse or it was me. Pure bliss.
Right now, I bet I could pull off those dressage moves I practiced for that drama shoot.
...Though that'd require straddling properly, of course.
"Ah, yes. That..."
I hadn't meant to fool her, but it turned out that way.
"Pauline, we're friends now, right? You can be honest."
Pauline glanced back at the riding arena where I'd been, then at me.
"If a woman who botched her postpartum recovery could ride like Your Majesty, every noblewoman in Austria would rush to have a child and head straight to the arena. Myself included."
She gave a faint smile.
"That's my honest answer, Your Majesty."
My first true confidante at court.
Pauline stepped closer, lowering her voice.
"And... one more thing, as a friend."
She whispered so only I could hear.
"Today, all I saw was an Empress weakened by childbirth, barely able to mount a horse from lack of leg strength."
"Thanks, Pauline."
I grinned playfully.
She stepped back to a polite distance and performed a perfect Hofknicks.
"The honor is mine, Your Majesty."
I lightly hooked my arm through hers, linking elbows—a gesture for friends, not protocol.
Pauline's shoulders stiffened briefly, then relaxed to match my stride.
"So much dust. My throat's parched—let's finish that tea from earlier."
As we left the arena, I kept my tone light.
"Of course, Your Majesty. But after such vigorous exercise, are you sure you're alright?"
"You're more cheeky than I thought."
We walked the quiet corridor, exchanging smiles.
Back in the tea room, we sat and let conversation bloom.
Pauline shared tales of high society, where I didn't fit.
"To be frank, Viennese society has misunderstood Your Majesty."
"Misunderstood how?"
"They saw you as a beautiful Empress suffocating in court life, one needing protection. They thought you avoided society out of shyness, or because Bavaria's free spirit couldn't endure court etiquette."
I shrugged just noticeably.
"Not wrong. It really is stifling."
Pauline nodded, her gaze more earnest now.
"That's not your fault, Your Majesty. It's the air here."
She fiddled with her teacup.
"About society last night—a duchess arrived with a massive stuffed bird of paradise on her head."
Gossiping about someone?
Instead of sneering, Pauline continued calmly, against my expectation.
"The bird itself isn't the point. What matters is every noblewoman who saw that grotesque ornament just glanced at each other, wondering, 'Is this the Archduchess's new taste?'—too scared to speak."
She met my eyes directly.
"In Vienna, personal taste doesn't create trends. The Archduchess's gaze does. Everyone molds themselves to her strict standards—it's suffocating."
I listened intently to Pauline.
"Your Majesty hails from Bavaria. Your free spirit is the fresh air this stuffy court needs. Sadly, being different here gets read as wrong."
"...Pauline, do you want me to enter society too?"
She shook her head.
"I strove to be society's star to prove my worth, but Your Majesty has other paths."
I could see why Pauline became society's star—saying what people wanted to hear—
"Like... the Empress Elisabeth Railway, or the Empress Elisabeth Bridge."
She beamed innocently, tossing me a teasing jab. Scratch that.
Ouch, seriously.
The thing I'd barely forgotten resurfaced.
In the carriage home after tea, Pauline reflected on the Empress she'd met today.
'I thought she was just trying to project dignity at first.'
Around the wedding, at the first tea party—that had been her image.
'The kind of Empress the Archduchess wanted.'
With news of her pregnancy, the Empress had shut society out, living near-secluded, sparking many rumors early on.
The most widespread, believed by many as fact: the wilted Bavarian rose.
Some pitied the Empress caged in court's aviary, depressed; the Archduchess's faction believed her Empress training complete, now devoted solely to producing an heir. That rumor spread far.
'The rift with the Emperor was the most dangerous rumor.'
Even Sophie Archduchess had panicked, unleashing secret police. The misunderstanding cleared at young Sophie's birthday event, but Emperor-Empress discord was never good for the Empire.
'Rumors of bedridden from beauty obsessions, political incompetence, ignoring affairs... The political neglect holds some truth.'
But to Pauline, today's Empress didn't seem incompetent.
'It looked like the Emperor was moved by the Empress, not the Archduchess.'
Pauline gazed out the carriage window with a wry smile.
The rushed marriage talks stemmed from Richard von Metternich, ambassador to France, being summoned back to Vienna.
"Her fragility... maybe all an act?"
Pauline intuited she'd been put on the Empress's trial today—and barely passed.
"Your Majesty. So pleased?"
"I'm going to see my daughter."
First friend made in Vienna.
But why was Pauline so insecure about her looks? She was averagely pretty—not monkey-ugly enough for self-deprecation.
Should I send her some of my cosmetics?
"Empress Majesty. We've been waiting."
Baroness Charlotte von Welden. The overseer I always ran into visiting my daughter.
"The Archduchess just finished her milk and is in the best mood."
Her tone implied she'd perfectly timed even the baby's mood to my visit.
"Well done."
Opening the door revealed an ornate lace-draped cradle in the room's center.
And beside it, Sophie Archduchess seated, watching her granddaughter.
"Empress, you've come."
She barely nodded, not rising. This is her turf. The title "Empress" clashed with her condescending "you've come."
"Just in time—Sophie was about to sleep. She was waiting for her mother."
Even this small joy of seeing my daughter had to be supervised by my mother-in-law.