Hungary's Lover!
"Sisi, my dear."
I shifted my gaze to the gentle touch, and there was the Dowager Archduchess, holding my hand tenderly.
"Your Imperial Highness, the Dowager Archduchess…."
The one who should be in Salzburg….
"Sophie stopped by just a little while ago, didn't she? That child must have been sharp-tongued. But Sisi, don't take it too much to heart. Sophie is just a poor soul who's lost all peace of mind trying to defend this massive Habsburg fortress."
Grandma carefully brushed the strand of hair from my cheek.
"When Joseph arrives, hand everything over to him, and you focus only on the little life growing inside you. That's the noblest regency you can offer the empire right now."
They were words that could come from a mother-in-law, but hearing them from my grandma made them sound so much better.
Grandma took a small rosary from her bosom and placed it in my palm.
"It's from Bavaria. Your mother Ludovika, Sophie, and I used it to pray together when we were young. Clutch it and pray whenever you're anxious. God will protect you and the child."
"Auntie…."
As I leaned into her embrace, she hugged me tight and patted my back soothingly.
"I'm grateful you call me that even when we're alone. Everyone here treats me like a living relic."
Auntie gestured to her lady-in-waiting, who showed me the Vienna Zeitung.
"Sisi, if you try to solve everything alone, your soul will suffer."
"But Auntie, your reputation…."
"Reputation, my dear? This old woman's reputation is like a worn-out coat. It only gains value when it frays and wears away for the empire and my children."
Auntie's hand gently enveloped mine, which clutched the rosary.
The mother of the poor.
Countless hospitals and orphanages in Vienna had been built with Auntie's charity.
She had even sold her own jewels to fund relief efforts.
"If the stone you threw was too sharp and nearly hurt everyone, I'll just cover it with soft silk. So don't blame yourself. Thanks to your clever thinking, those London heathens have finally shut their mouths."
Auntie lightly tapped the back of my hand and bestowed a benevolent smile.
"Thank you, Auntie."
"Save the thanks between family."
Auntie waved it off nonchalantly and flicked the newspaper on the bed onto the nightstand.
As if she had no desire to hear any more headaches.
"The real reason this old woman rode a carriage all the way from Salzburg is something else."
Auntie's eyes sparkled with anticipation as she looked around.
"Where are my precious great-grandchildren? They've been on my mind the whole time."
"The children are probably in the playroom with their nannies."
"I must go see them right away. My luggage is stuffed with toys I brought for them."
Auntie rose and took my hand, leading me along.
Yeah, time to set aside the worries for now.
The reason Sisi is called Hungary's Lover is simple.
If judging purely by merit, titles like Savior of Bohemia or Queen of Venice might fit better.
But the title "Hungary's Lover" carried the greatest symbolism.
The first refuge.
The fact that Buda was the first place she went after marriage.
Unable to endure Archduchess Sophie, the first place she fled to was Hungary.
From the Hungarian nobles' perspective, the mere fact that she abandoned Vienna to choose them was an honor.
And no matter how many coronations she held in Bohemia or Italy, to Hungarian eyes, they were mere political maneuvers.
"It's an open secret that Her Majesty the Empress dislikes Vienna's nobles."
"Isn't the Empress the reason international opinion has shifted?"
"Didn't you see today's paper? It was because of the Dowager Archduchess's statement."
"The Dowager Archduchess's doing, huh…."
Kalman Tisza irritably ground out his cigar.
"Do you believe it? That old woman suddenly exposing Hungary's serf conditions in the British press? This is a staged fraud. The mother-in-law covering up her daughter-in-law's mischief with her skirts!"
Tisza slammed the table hard.
"We can't trust Vienna's women. Sisi? Hungary's Lover? Ha! She's Elisabeth, a German. The Emperor's wife in the end. She's just using us to solidify her position!"
But Ferenc Deák, silently stirring his coffee across from him, thought differently.
"Don't get too worked up."
"How can I not in this situation?"
"What matters isn't the truth, but who holds the knife."
Deák quietly pointed to the newspaper.
"If the Empress had attacked us, Hungary would be seething with betrayal. But since it's announced as the Dowager Archduchess, the Empress remains the 'pitiful daughter-in-law oppressed by her in-laws.'"
"So what does that change?"
"The more Vienna's nobles attack the Empress, the more she'll have to rely on us to survive. Her dislike of Vienna isn't an act."
As Deák and Tisza argued heatedly, another man entered.
Thanks to his mother's persistent pleas and a pardon, he had miraculously returned, and now he regarded Tisza with his characteristic languid yet sharp gaze.
"Count Andrássy."
Tisza eyed him with wariness rather than joy.
"You've changed too, Count. After sipping the glamorous waters of Paris and London salons, does the Habsburg skirts now feel warmer?"
"It's not me that's changed, Tisza—it's the times."
Andrássy didn't take an empty chair; instead, he perched on the edge of the table Tisza had just slammed.
"I met her in London."
Andrássy lightly dusted the lapel of his finest frock coat, flashing his signature languid smile.
"This suit—quite dashing, isn't it? Tailored on Savile Row."
"Did you come to brag about clothes?"
"No, this suit is my answer."
Andrássy spoke as if recounting an ancient tale.
"I was on the verge of being dragged away by guards. The Austrian Empress saw me. I thought, 'Ah, the Habsburg witch will mock me and throw me in prison.' But do you know what she said?"
Andrássy stared straight into Tisza's eyes, mimicking her words from that day.
"'Artists are always radical. Anyone gets sensitive when they're hungry.'"
"……."
"She called me not a terrorist or traitor, but a hungry artist. Then she sent her own valet to take me to the finest tailor, vouching for me in the imperial name."
Even amid the café's noisy clamor, silence fell over their table.
"Tisza, could you have saved an enemy state's rebel in that situation? Especially one that might tarnish your own husband's—the Emperor's—face?"
Andrássy continued in a bittersweet yet convinced tone.
"She knows courtesy toward humans before constitutions or treaties. Instead of wrinkling her nose at starving Hungarians, she opens her purse and protects their honor. So I'll help her. For the one Habsburg who sees Hungary not as rebel land but artists' land, I can loosen the noose around my neck for a bit."
"So it's her beauty in the end? Like Hungarian women bewitched by that stunning face, has the Count lost his mind to it too?"
Tisza sneered.
Andrássy merely laughed at the jibe.
"Maybe. But Tisza, if that beauty blinds the Emperor's eyes and ears, isn't that a blessing for us too?"
"Ha, everyone's gone mad. The Emperor smitten by one woman, and Hungarians too. Clinging blindly to the Empress without even certainty she loves Hungary. No more to say."
Tisza grabbed his coat and stood.
"It's especially disappointing because you were once a comrade. Remember: emotions wear out, but interests are eternal. While we swoon in the Empress's skirts, German bureaucrats are falsifying the ledgers."
Andrássy Gyula's defection, once a hardliner ally, brought Tisza immense disappointment.
Watching Tisza's retreating back, Deák said,
"He's still young; he'll understand someday."
Andrássy hid his bitter expression and took Tisza's seat.
"If he'd met her once, he'd choose differently."
Sisi had an overwhelming aura that disarmed people, beyond logic or reason.
"You didn't really fall for just her face, did you?"
"… 'Beauty with a crown' isn't an exaggeration, but I'm no fool abandoning the greater cause for love. Besides, she's already married."
"Just an old man's concern—forget it."
"But Count Deák, you seem to have suffered quite a bit?"
Andrássy brushed it off casually.
"What of it? I nearly repeated a stupid mistake."
The hardliners, spurned by both Sisi and the international community, moved to act immediately.
1848 all over again.
"That's stupid. Russia won't sit idly by."
Sisi was the Hungarians' sole channel of dialogue.
"We can't let the Venetians steal our lover."
So Sisi must remain Hungary's Lover forever.
"The Empress is coming?"
Andrássy and Deák perked up at the sudden news from the next table.
"Yes! Finally our turn!"
"Does this mean we'll finally have our child too?"
The resentment of being sidelined while Bohemia and Italy were favored turned to joy now that their turn had come.
Watching them, Deák inwardly clicked his tongue.
…Even teenage puppy love wasn't this intense.
To him, it looked just like jealous pubescent boys.
This time, we arrived in Buda by boat again.
Boats were more comfortable for the baby and me than bumpy carriages.
On the first visit, there had been curious glances mixed with slight wariness, but now crowds filled even the Pest side across the river to greet me.
"Erzsebet!"
Pfft.
Erzsebet, huh.
Hungary's great nobles were lined up at the dock.
Among those in splendid Magyar traditional attire, two stood out especially.
Hungary's sage, Ferenc Deák, and Andrássy Gyula, whom I'd met in London.
"We've only corresponded by letter until now; this is our first meeting in person."
Deák greeted me first.
"Seeing the Count here makes me assume there's good news."
"What could be surer good news than that Hungary's heart beats for Your Majesty?"
He bowed politely and stepped aside to clear the path.
I returned the greeting with a slight flutter of my fan over my mouth.
"Iljen! Erzsebet!" Unlike other places, even the smallest gestures got a reaction here. Fun.
…Thanks to the Dowager Archduchess's help, we survived. Yeah, even disobedient kids exist.