Je T'aime.

XLI. A Goddess

As the stars had promised, spring finally came. Through the darkest early mornings came the hints of upcoming sunlight. The earth grew warmer day by day. The greenery of the world seemed to awaken from their yuletide slumber.

And, as the earth continued its constant and turbulent journey around the sun, the Viennese court returned to Schönbrunn Palace.

Though the happiness that sunshine provided me each year was promised, it was bittersweet. Isabella and I still had to live in secrecy, shrouded by the order of her husband. Our interactions in person were limited to elongated glances and polite conversations among the company of others. But the letters, oh, the letters. I doubt that I have poured more of my heart onto paper than I did in those letters. With each stroke of ink new passions were revealed, the marks of devotion stained onto paper. And, of course, these were delivered under oaths of silence. It was recommended to me that I burn the correspondence. I couldn't bring myself to do it, and kept them all in an old shoebox under my bed.

At the end of each season, the apartments that I used to call home looked so barren, like they weren't even mine. I gathered the rest of my trunks and put them by the door for the footmen to take down. Pia had gone long ago; she was setting up my residence at the summer palace. I sighed. Time moved too fast and too slow all at the same time. Approaching the window, I folded my hands behind my back and watched the Vienna skyline. The sky was as blue as it had ever been, the sun shining like she knew that she had been dearly missed. The streets below were filled with carriages and mounted guards. Most of the court had already departed for the yellow house at the edge of the city.

At the street just below my window, I saw footmen open the door to a carriage, everyone surrounding it bowing deeply. I watched my brother, the tails of his coat moving with each proud step, cross the cobblestones and get into the carriage. The door shut behind him. He was...alone. Leaving me puzzled, the carriage lurched forward and merged into Vienna. It seemed that at his departure, all of Hofburg grew eerily silent.

I heard the door behind me open quickly, then shut. Whipping around, I came to see Isabella standing there, her back against the door, her chest rising and falling with breath. "Good, you're still here," she panted, "I thought you left with the others."

"I just watched Joseph get into the carriage without you," I explained.

Isabella beamed. "Even better. He's been exuberantly attached to me within the past few days, I could barely escape him. I told him-"

"The migraines!" I exclaimed, striding across the floor to her.

"Yes!"

"Ah, you clever girl!" I took her face in my hands and pressed a kiss to her temple.

"He's been so dearly affectionate, but never with such tenderness as you. I found myself thinking of you in the most... matrimonial of moments," Her face flushed, and her attention turned to the window, gazing out at the city as I had just done. "He could never compare to what dedication you have shown me. And I miss the days where we were together every day. It strains me terribly to be apart from you. You've read the letters. You know of this, I'm sure."

At her display, my heart twisted with pity. "Yes, I do," I said, standing behind her, looking out of the window over her shoulder. "Damn that husband of yours."

Isabella reprimanded, though through a smile, "That's very unkind."

"I think it's funny that you think I care."

I rested my chin on her shoulder, my fingertips grazing the laces on the front of her bodice. She exhaled shakily. "Do passion and reason clash like this in your heart, too?"