Je T'aime.

XXV. Charles

There was a shaking at my shoulders, and I opened my eyes to the light of a barely fresh day, just a thin line of orange streaking at the horizon. "Come on, Mimi, you have to wake up."

All of the drowsiness drained from me as I realized that the voice wasn't Pia's. "Mama?" I whispered as I sat up.

"Get dressed, my dear. Quickly." My mother threw a simple wrapping gown down onto my bed.

I got up and began to tuck my hair into a cap. "What's going on, Mama?" I asked, even though I knew completely what was going on.

My mother grabbed my wrist. "Come on," She pulled me out of my apartments and down the hall at a quickened pace, our shoes clacking on the floor. The door to Charles's apartment was opened to let my mother and I in. Even though I knew what was going to happen, my heart still dropped in my chest.

The room was crowded with people, all whispering and hissing into each other's ears, barely noticing my mother's presence. Through the wall of bodies I couldn't see anything. Only Father Lachner addressed the Empress with a bow. "Your Majesty, Your Highness."

My mother addressed the crowd. "If you are not a doctor, a priest, or one of my blood, get out. Now."

As the unimportant people began to file out of the room I could finally see such a miserable display. Surrounding the bed was Doctor van Swieten and Father Lachner, as well as my siblings. Isabella was there, beside her husband, and as soon as she saw me a kind of relief crossed her face. She was clutching a rosary. My father was at the head of the bed, and an empty chair was across from him for my mother.

My gaze turned to the miserable Archduke lying in the bed. He was shirtless, his hair undone, dark blonde curls laying across the pillow. His entire upper body, from what I could see, was covered in the raised bumps of smallpox, though they were more concentrated on his lower arms, hands, and face than on his torso. His chest rose and fell irregularly with each struggling breath. My mother rushed to the chair and sat down, taking Charles's hand in her own. "My poor baby."

My breath caught in my throat as I overlooked the pitiful scene. Marianna must have noticed this. With a simple motion of her fingers, she beckoned me to her side. As I came to stand beside my sister I noticed the gauze wrapped around Charles's arm.

From the bedside a footman picked up a chamber-pot filled with a liquid of dark red, nearly black, which was immediately covered with a cloth. The footman left the room to dispose of it. I turned to whisper to my sister. "They're letting him?"

Marianna whispered in reply, "It's the only way to balance his humours. He's too weak for the leeches. I think they already tried. But you know why we're all gathered here."

"It's the end," I stated. Marianna silently nodded. A sibling of ours hadn't died since twelve years prior, when Mama had a daughter that died just hours after being baptized. I didn't remember it much, but I knew that Marianna did as a girl of ten at the time.

The door was opened again. "Go ahead," ushered a voice. "In, in," Antonia, Carolina, Maximilian and Ferdinand came into the room, all sleepily clinging to Madame von Brandeis's dress in their sleepwear. "I apologize for our tardiness, Your Majesty-"

"It's fine," my mother said, cutting her off. There was an air of silence to it all, like nobody knew what to say or what to do. Charles's breath was raspy and it was almost painful to listen to. My mother had broken down and was sobbing. My father was holding her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles. Under her breath and with her rosary pulled to her chest, Isabella was whispering a prayer in Spanish. Doctor van Swieten was wringing out damp cloths, setting them on Charles's forehead.

Sleepiness pulled at me, but there was nothing I could do. At least the sun, which was beginning to rise, sent a gentle glow throughout the room.

I looked over at my littlest sister, who gazed at the world with a kind of innocent wonder that could make anyone envious. Her bright blue eyes were so fresh and unadulterated as she stood there in her little nightdress, her ash-blonde hair running just over her shoulders. It was such a pity that my mother shoved her in here with her dying brother. She deserved to be shielded from these kinds of things, at least for now.