Mine Alone
“Joseph. I'll be back.”
“...”
“I'm the Empress, after all. I promised to help as your Empress.”
“Go, then.”
Joseph couldn't hide his wistful gaze, watching pitifully as I boarded the carriage.
“Your Majesty... we really must depart now.”
No matter what Count Buol said, Joseph and I stared at each other through the single window between us.
“Your Majesty, the longer this goes on, the less time Her Majesty the Empress has to rest from her journey.”
Only then did Joseph step back, and we set off. I waved until he was out of sight, bidding him farewell.
“Chief lady-in-waiting. Now explain. Why is the Archduchess giving me this opportunity?”
“The Archduchess stands to gain whether Your Majesty succeeds or fails.”
I looked at Esterházy, signaling her to continue.
“If you succeed, it proves her judgment was right, and she'll use Your Majesty's charm as mere window dressing—employed outward, not inward.”
“And if I fail?”
“That's what the Archduchess desires most.”
She'll say, She's still too young, unfit to handle the Empire's grave affairs.
Esterházy added softly to my words. “She can exploit His Majesty's guilt. After all, it was his beloved Empress who harmed the Empire. She'll drive a wedge between you two.”
That's why I accepted the trip to Paris—it benefits me too.
“My position as the highest authority in the imperial delegation doesn't change, right?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. You can declare to all that you're not a controlled figure, but an Empress who acts of her own accord. And it gives you a chance to build connections outside, beyond the Vienna the Archduchess dominates.”
Win-win for both of us, or maybe just my defeat. Who knows.
“Your Majesty... but isn't the cost of failure greater?”
I didn't answer Esterházy, just gazed out the window at the passing scenery.
With the failure of Greater Germany, I can rise again. I'll be only 28 then, while Sophie will be 61. Can she, who's lived her whole life for Greater Germany, survive in politics after that?
Time is on my side anyway.
“Even if Russia helps... would that be the Empire's victory?”
To the other German peoples, she'll just look like an Archduchess who brought in foreign powers. She can't beat Prussia alone, and with Russian aid, Greater Germany is impossible.
The flower card isn't in Sophie's hand—it's in mine. When she fails, whom will the imperial subjects, the soldiers, and Joseph blame? Whom will they turn to?
Until I play that card, I'll remain the Empress who loves the Empire's culture.
Upon entering Paris, the atmosphere shifted dramatically from what I'd known. Crumbling alleys were being demolished, replaced by vast new roads, splendid plazas, and gas lamps springing up one by one.
“We could make our night streets safe like that too, couldn't we?”
“The roads are remarkably well-maintained.”
Esterházy agreed, peering out the window with me.
In this era, traveling abroad costs a fortune. Even nobles might only send their eldest sons to Italy.
Catching Esterházy's anxious glance, I tossed out casually, “It's all for show.”
“Pardon?”
“Full of noise... but isn't it too quiet otherwise?”
Where did the subjects go who lost their homes to this redevelopment amid such grand projects?
“Didn't Count Buol say? Napoleon is a man brimming with vanity.”
The carriage arrived at the Tuileries Palace. As the footman opened the door, Count Buol waited to escort me. I took his hand and stepped down, and a maid immediately shaded me with a parasol.
Opposite us stood Emperor Napoleon and Empress Eugénie to greet us. France, eager to flaunt its technology, had even brought a photographer.
Count Buol introduced me politely. “Your Majesties, Emperor and Empress of France—this is Her Majesty Elisabeth, Empress of the Austrian Empire.”
Before coming to Paris, at our last hotel, Buol had explained why they'd chosen the Tuileries and that the Emperor would welcome me gladly. The palace, nestled behind Paris's dazzling vistas, seemed to embody their ambition to solidify authority. My arrival as Habsburg Empress must be the final puzzle piece.
He was right. Napoleon approached with a smile.
Victoria had called him the most charming man after her husband Albert. Now I see why he's called the opium of humanity.
“It's an honor to finally meet Europe's brightest star here in our Paris. A supreme joy for this Bonaparte.”
Quiet, languid, mysterious aura. Everything precise—perhaps why he was the opposite of the clear, rigid, predictable Joseph. Not my type.
In Vienna, I was just a figurehead, but I had no intention of being Napoleon's trophy in Paris.
“I deeply thank Your Majesty the Emperor of France for this warm welcome. To possess Europe's shining star yet remain humble—truly admirable.”
He's so short, it's hard to look down. I'm tallish already, and for this official event, I wore high heels. At 160cm, Napoleon was nearly 20cm shorter.
Sensing it, Napoleon stepped back and introduced Empress Eugénie. “This is France's Empress, Eugénie.”
She looked up at me in greeting. “Your Majesty's beauty and courage are already legendary here in Paris. Especially your mercy visiting wounded soldiers on the battlefield—it deeply moved me too. Please, during your stay at the Tuileries, enjoy Paris's vibrancy, so different from stiff Vienna's palaces.”
Stiff and boring in Vienna?
“I thank Your Majesty the Empress for the welcome too. I hear you recently bore a crown prince. As a new mother who just held my first child, I know that joy surpasses any jewel in the Empire.”
I lack her life experience as Empress, but I beat her to motherhood.
“As Your Majesty says, this warm hospitality is unimaginable in stiff Vienna's palaces. I eagerly await sharing stories with you, Empress Eugénie—not as Austria's Empress, but as the mother of Your Majesty's crown prince.”
She calls Vienna stiff, yet greets me in rigid Tuileries? No, maybe it's genuine. Have I grown too cynical from Sophie?
For the photo, we posed. The photographer's gaze lingered, then the okay signal rang out.
...Not coming?
I rolled my eyes slightly at him. Escorted like this, it feels more awkward. With Joseph, the height difference wasn't this bad. Next time, lower heels.
Anyway, I entered the Tuileries with Napoleon.
...Why the hell is he here?
“Your Majesty the Empress, this is Albert, Prince Consort, husband to Queen Victoria.”
The pretty-boy-looking Prince Albert excused himself from his partner and approached to kiss my hand.
“Delighted to meet Austria's Empress.”
“Delighted to meet Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha.”
Right...? In etiquette lessons long ago, I recalled he hadn't yet received the consort title.
Napoleon likely elevated our ally Britain on purpose. No special reactions around, so probably correct.
Count Buol's expression showed he hadn't expected Albert either. I thought Sophie schemed to screw me. Anyway, Victoria's assessment was biased. Not that Napoleon was second to Albert in charm, but their vibes were similar.
Sophie's setup might be over there. Princess Marie of Hesse. Fifth cousin to Franz and me. And...
“Your Majesty the Empress of Austria, this is Her Majesty the Empress of All Russia.”
Russia's Empress, Maria Alexandrovna.
“...”
“...”
Who's senior? Should I greet first?
Empress Maria eyed me uncertainly too. All eyes were on us.
Am I messing up protocol? She's 13 years my senior in life, but excluding national rank and visit status, shouldn't I receive the greeting?
Recalling etiquette class protocol, I held firm. Napoleon was host, Albert lacks consort title—so clearly below me. We're equals, so who arrived first?
I became Empress April 24, 1854; Maria, March 2, 1855. I'm senior.
My thoughts cleared. Allies, yet you'll stare me down? You know why Albert left you mid-escort to greet me first?
As Napoleon tried to pull his arm away to mediate, Empress Maria greeted me first.
“Delighted to meet Austria's Empress.”
“Delighted to meet All Russia's Empress.”
What did I do wrong? Anyway, met all the big shots before the main event. Napoleon escorted me to my room and left.
“Chief lady-in-waiting.”
“No one's here. Speak, Your Majesty.”
“What did I do wrong?”
“You did perfectly. The rude one was the Russian Empress.”
Good.
“Loosen the corset a bit.”
Tighter than usual for Eugénie. I skip heavy makeup anyway—papers and nobles say Eugénie is made-up, I'm natural beauty. If I'd done makeup, rumors of minding Eugénie would've spread.
“Finally, I can breathe.”
The maid loosened the corset slightly and straightened my attire neatly.
Were all these heavyweights ever gathered before? Probably not. Royals don't move easily. Otherwise, I'd know tales like Napoleon-Louis or the Berlin Congress drafting treaties in English.
Sophie was greatly flustered by the telegram.
“Britain sent the Prince Consort?”
Bach merely listed facts flatly. “Yes. Seems France leaked it deliberately.”
That upstart...
Sophie disliked Napoleon III using the Habsburgs—and invoking Napoleon II, whom she'd been close to, to bolster his authority.
“Hand over all intel on the Empress.”
“To Her Majesty the Empress?”
“Baron Bach. The Empress is Habsburg Empress, separate from personal grudges.”
Sophie glared coldly. “She's slipped our full control. Alone, it's daughter-in-law's folly; but inter-royal, it's diplomatic breach.”
With that, Sophie signaled Bach to leave.
“I can't lift my head in shame.”
Victoria had heard the Paris news too.
“Other nations sent Empresses, yet mediator Europe sends a mere consort, not even with state papers.”
Queen Victoria fumed that Parliament denied Albert the King Consort title, embarrassing Britain internationally.
Pass the title now, she pressured.
“Your Majesty, but... a foreigner in politics—”
“Must I invoke royal prerogative to satisfy you?”
Victoria hoped this would secure Albert's title.
The Empress's seat is always isolated. When we fellows meet privately, what do we discuss?
“Of course—separate from loving me, my husband's got mistresses everywhere.”
Pour out what we can't tell ministers. Public is public, private is private.
“France's Empress must worry too. Our Tsar does the same. Lately, he avoids me citing my health.”
Of course, only semi-public secrets. Everyone knows, but confirmation from the source—secret-sharing time.
“And Austria's Emperor?”
Me?
“He went straight to the front after I bore our child.”
““Ah...””