Love and War
His grip on my arm tightened fiercely.
"It hurts."
I'd suddenly blurted it out and ended up swallowing a mouthful of water.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"Let go of my arm first, then we'll talk."
I scowled and twisted my arm free, and only then did Franz Joseph jerk back in surprise, releasing me.
What am I supposed to do about these handprints?
"…Elisabeth."
His face had gone pale as death, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.
"What's wrong? You scared me."
"No, I…"
Ah, following his gaze, I got it now.
I could tell exactly what he was thinking, his eyes flicking between the bathtub and me.
"Never played submarine before?"
"Submarine?"
"Doesn't everyone do it as a kid?"
Franz Joseph's legs seemed to give out, and he slumped against the edge of the tub.
"I've never even heard of such a game."
Uh, um.
Right?
"You're not thinking something weird, are you?"
Was the Wittelsbach melancholy already public knowledge?
Didn't it come out after Ludwig II died?
No answer—yep, nailed it.
He always clams up when it's not in his favor.
"Yosha."
"Sissi."
I wrapped my arms around him from behind.
"Just in case."
"Speak."
"Don't go ripping out the plumbing again."
"Promise you'll bathe with a maid present."
"What's there to promise?"
I pointed toward the door.
"See? There's Ida right there by the door with a book in hand."
I always keep at least one maid with me.
Wanting to be alone just means within the bounds of court etiquette.
"S-sorry!"
Ida hid her face behind the book and backed away, vanishing.
Poor Ida—how flustered she must be. Coming with a book to read during my bath, only to walk in on the emperor and empress getting romantic.
I whispered softly into his ear.
"A steamy bathroom, the male lead stumbling in covered in sweat and dust, the female lead in the tub pulling that drenched hero into her arms."
Franz Joseph's ears turned beet red in an instant.
"Anyone can see it's the climax of a torrid melodrama, right?"
He finally seemed to grasp the objective situation.
Why Ida had fled, why the maids outside were holding their breath.
"You…"
Franz Joseph let out a hollow chuckle and bowed his head.
"A joke like that in this situation?"
"Not a joke. Ida really misunderstood and ran off."
That terrified look on his face, like he might lose me—it was my greatest reassurance.
Government affairs? Boredom? Nah, this man is just head over heels for me.
Seems like there'd been misunderstandings like this before.
This time, since Franz Joseph didn't catch on, I'll let it slide.
"Up you go."
I unwrapped myself from him.
"Ah, right. You were in the middle of washing."
He sprang up and headed for the door.
"Close it and come back."
"Come back?"
"You chased Ida away. So you have to read to me instead."
Franz Joseph obediently shut the door and returned.
The emperor attending to me.
This is my privilege alone.
A privilege no other woman could ever have.
He hesitated, then sat in the chair Ida had prepared.
"What are you doing? I won't hear you from that far."
He picked up the chair and scooted closer.
"I'll smell like sweat."
"Didn't notice until now?"
"That's because… I was worried about you. Slipped my mind."
What to do.
He's too damn cute for an emperor.
I turned, resting my chin on the tub's edge, looking up at him. As I just grinned, Franz Joseph changed the subject.
"What story should I tell?"
"Hm… Prince rescuing the princess is boring."
"Didn't you used to love those?"
"They're just made for kids."
His clothes are soaked from me hugging him.
"How about taking off your jacket? It's drenched."
"Doesn't matter. Wars don't stop for rain."
True—in court life, they even bathe in their clothes.
I stretched my wet arm out of the tub and tugged at his uniform sleeve.
"Then let's change genres."
"…To what?"
Is he actually expectant?
"War stories. Your favorite."
"…Still sulking about that?"
"I'm not?"
Sulking? Nah.
I'm not petty enough to hold grudges over you ditching me at the Milan banquet to talk with Radetzky, or praising him all day in the carriage.
He pushed a finger into my mouth with his other hand.
My lips must've been pouting without me realizing.
"Then why are your eyes all sharp and triangular?"
"The humidity."
I grumbled, rubbing my lips where he'd pressed.
Franz Joseph stared at me for a moment, then burst out laughing and brushed my wet hair behind my ear.
"Fine, war stories. Which one? Napoleonic Wars? Thirty Years' War?"
"How about love and war?"
"Love and war—the Trojan War, then—"
Trojan War, my ass.
I stood up in the tub, looking down at him.
"Yosha."
Mid-explanation of what the Trojan Horse looked like, Franz Joseph's mouth snapped shut.
"Sissi…?"
I slipped off my chemise and tossed it carelessly out of the tub.
His gaze followed the white fabric fluttering away, then snapped back to me.
"It's cold."
His lost-puppy eyes trailed down my water-glistened body.
Gulp.
I saw his throat bob sharply.
"…Sissi."
His voice was much huskier now.
"Told you. I'm cold."
No more signals needed.
Franz Joseph shoved the chair aside, stripped off his jacket, and climbed into the tub.
As he joined me, water sloshed over the edges, filling the bathroom.
"…Warm enough?"
"Yes, though it's a bit cramped."
"Good."
He ran his hand down my wet back.
"First time getting in a tub in uniform."
"Why only the jacket?"
"…Can't say."
"Did Schoda block you off again?"
"No."
Again, again.
"No haoche."
"Fine."
"Don't tell me… you were with another woman?"
He startled, half-rising before stopping.
"Another one of your wild thoughts? That's why you were underwater earlier?"
"No…"
Damn. Forgot we agreed not to talk about it.
My mouth runs away sometimes.
I slyly averted my eyes.
Franz Joseph let out an incredulous chuckle.
"Jealous?"
"No."
"Then let's check."
"Check what?"
"If I came from holding another woman… or not."
He guided my hand underwater.
Parting the warm currents, my fingertips brushed the fabric of his uniform trousers.
No explanation needed.
Got it.
"We've been married over eight years now."
Our ninth anniversary's coming up soon.
Prime time for boredom to set in.
Yet he skipped our anniversary, didn't greet me when I returned to Vienna.
And now he's in here with his pants on.
"No for the next two weeks."
Franz Joseph saying that?
"Why?"
"…Can't say."
Two weeks… two weeks.
What happens in two weeks?
A word flashed in my mind.
I hadn't known the details—just that it started over.
"Worried I'll get pregnant again?"
His shoulders visibly tensed.
Bullseye reaction.
"…Among other things."
He looked away, mumbling.
"Doctor said after a long carriage trip, the body's weak. Conceiving right away could strain the mother. Need at least two weeks' rest."
I was speechless.
Was he tracking my cycle all by himself?
Even consulting the doctor while I traveled to Vienna, fretting I'd get pregnant and ruin my health.
Thinking about it, his worry wasn't unfounded.
No musical mention, but after ten years, I'd given birth to Valerie right away.
"Fine, back to war stories."
I turned to face him, wrapping my arms around his neck.
Am I some fragile craft?
Nah, even jewels aren't babied this much.
Fine, let's see him recite all six verses of the emperor's anthem.
"So the Trojan Horse was this massive structure they pretended to abandon during retreat."
Ignoring me clinging to his neck, Franz Joseph doggedly continued, staring into space like reading a report.
Must be hot and uncomfortable, but on he went.
"Yosha, aren't you curious if it's water or sweat running down my body right now?"
I deliberately puffed into his ear, whispering.
"…Not curious. Focusing solely on Homer's epic now. The Trojans dragged the horse inside the walls, got drunk celebrating victory that night."
Stubborn as hell.
"Then, late at night, what did Odysseus do?"
I lightly traced his firm chest with my fingertips.
"Th-they slipped out and opened the gates! And—"
The longer the story dragged, the louder and faster his voice got.
Like he couldn't leave the tub until he finished the Trojan War.
"Yosha, how about a different wall falling?"
"Stop, stop! Sissi, please. Don't test my love for you."
His eyes looked genuinely desperate.
If his mother saw this, she'd weep: 'My son has finally ascended to sainthood.'
Pfft.
"Yosha, you know how you always check your rifle before a hunt?"
I teased, stroking up his thigh.
"…Seems like there's a cannon here needing inspection."
What do you think?
"Two weeks…"
Franz Joseph muttered "two weeks" like clutching the last thread of reason.
"The Trojan gates are open, Greek soldiers pouring in. Yosha, all that's left… is battle."
He hesitated no more.
"Sissi. This battle… it's going to be fierce."
"I'm ready."
I nipped his earlobe, whispering.
"Conquer me quick, my emperor."
The tub's overflowing water mingled with our ragged breaths, filling the room.
*
I wrapped a towel around myself and stepped out.
"Esterházy, tell Count Grüne the emperor's clothes are soaked—have him bring a change."