There were times where she attempted to recall when the nature of their non-verbal language between one another had changed. When tease had turned to wickedness and appreciation had turned into the sharp edge of mockery. The chances of them coming to a mutual understanding over the matters of war and politics were slim. Not highly irregular for royal pairs, but the refusal to accept the other’s truth or settle it kept them twisting and turning around one another. Both acted out of the interests of their Empire, but it was a turning point when common interest became self interest that Louisa saw a difference between the two of them. A difference she could not make him see, nor overcome herself. The fact that there was no escaping this time certainly put an extra layer of pressure on their already heavy shoulders. “From the hands of a creator flow only partial truths, Meine geliebte, for his eyes are also corrupted by opinion and money put in his account. I will not deny that you never fail look magnificent, regal..-” Her brown tourmaline hues darted down, as if she attempted to observe the accuracy of one of the more recent paintings that now decorated the halls of their palace. Quick but shamelessly studying his physique, before returning her gaze to meet his. “but I think creative expression envisioned a pure heavenly light to shine upon you time and time again and forgot to capture the blood red river beneath your feet.”
He cut the following sentence to her remark short, and rightfully so. From a few years after they were wed, their lives revolved around broken promises and half-truths. His denial and then shifting the blame upon all but himself did not make it less true, nor did it make it hurt any less. The look in his eyes as he recognized this flaw now showed a more vulnerable side. She did not take pleasure in the sight, but was too embittered to reach out and console. It was only a fraction of the disappointment and pain she had had to endure. “Consider this a release from the obligation to keep me satisfied by providing false hope.” The ice in her own voice took the archduchess by surprise. His words caused an inner conflict.. She didn’t want him to be motivated by obligation, but to be moved intrinsic motivation. To say the words because he wished to keep them, not because he must. It was too much to ask, she knew it well. “Know that I shall pray you find a way to fulfill this part of the convenant, for the sake of our Empire.”
The emotions they displayed towards one another were ever changing as the weather in spring. One moment there was cold, nature deprived of any color or song, - A moment later there was warmth, blooming flowers and the world was painted in rose and lilac tones. It showed the completion of their feelings towards one another. Unpredictable, unavoidable but forever glorious. She was happy to revel in the single moment of bliss they granted one another. Where they found themselves in peaceful togetherness and ignorance of the world that surrounded them. In the back of her mind she knew that there had ever been a time where it was so easy to ignore the world when they were with one another. Ignorant youth, that ran far to the corners of their own little kingdom within a guarded castle to forget the time. But like it had then, time returned to them now. Always far too soon.
She loved, loved fully and faithfully, and lost him. Reality snapped back in place more easy and readily than she hoped it would. Had they been but a man and a woman, she would have eagerly accepted his hand. In truth, their lives were too complicated for such wild whims. Every actions and decision too heavy to not be weighed carefully. “Your proclaimed silence on any matters of war would win my favor, yes, but I do not make any promise now which I am not certain I can keep.” Unlike yourself. The words that were not spoken from her lips were clear as day in her eyes.” – His following words, though perhaps spoken with good intend, stung. ‘They would be as they were’. How dare he make such impertinent claim. She couldn’t help but wonder if it simply turned into one of his most awful habits to give her hope and then mercilessly crush it again under his Imperial boot? Did he truly not see that she had long grown tired of this false hope he fed her? The countless nights she had cried on her own, laying besides an empty pillow where his head should be were not forgotten yet.
He was not wrong. They were chosen, sworn before kith and kin, to do their duty until the Lord would lay claim on their souls. This promise to the people of the Roman Empire was his last resort, the sole reason (so she told herself) that she would accept his hand. If it were not for them, her husband would have returned to find empty chambers and an empty bed years ago. “I shall give you the honor of my presence, your highness, as your reason is one I cannot argue with. The Empire needs us and needs to trust in this union.” The hand she was about to place in his remained in mid-air as Louisa turned to face her husband. Leaning in the slightest and lowering her voice to a hushed tone, making sure no curious eavesdroppers might hear. “But know, that you may be the commander out in the field but I do no longer yield to your words like a loyal dog. You can not make things so, simply because you say it. If you truly desire for things to return to the ways they once were, to have my love and affection, you shall repent.“
- and with those words, her delicate hand gently laid down in his. “So, where will we go to spend the rest of the afternoon, Liebes?”
❛ so i am magnificent and regal, ❜ he says, almost deliberately missing her point to take whatever charm he could get from his wife, even if the compliment is handed out in a backhanded manner. the smile on his face is perhaps infuriating if it weren’t so charming, used as he is to such compliments yet taking each one seemingly as if he has received them for the first time. in itself, this is a little victory of its own: his wife has spoken positively about him. he would take whatever pleasure and joy he can get from that now exceedingly rare occurrence and question it no longer. ❛ even st. michael the archangel will be stained with blood come the armageddon, ❜ he cannot help but quip, however. for a moment, he wishes her to understand that all the evil that he does is for the good of their faith, her faith—which she values and treasures so much at his expense. he cannot help but think that he is besmirching his soul and his reputation for the greater glory of god; yet nobody seems to pray for him and the deeds he has to commit. ❛ will you condemn him too ? ❜
the question, once asked, is easily passed over; it almost embarrasses him the moment it comes out of his mouth. although pride is one of his more obvious moral failings, it is another thing entirely to compare oneself to an archangel, and he regrets his words the second they spill forth into audible sound. ❛ never mind, ❜ he says, shaking his head. ❛ you may resent me for my obligations to our holy imperium, but you cannot resent me for vows made in front of our lord and all our family to see. ❜ and what a treasure she looked then, what a beauty ! she is still one now, of course, and he is still ever so weak for her; but she looked at him then with a certain kindness in her eyes that seems to be lacking now. ❛ i fulfil this covenant because i want to, so even if you do release me... i will still pursue the spirit of the law. ❜ the words are commanding, unbending, unbowed; yet he is, in truth, begging her not to release him from any sort of promise between them. he wraps his hand around hers, almost as if to clutch it like a drowning man would clutch a rope thrown from a ship, and doggedly, he peppers kisses on her skin, as if to affirm to her his continued, ever-present, everlasting affection.
❛ that is the only thing i ask from you, ❜ he says, even as he lies to both himself and her. ( when would he stop lying ? but, he thinks, it is for a noble purpose: it is to stop himself from hurting and to stop giving her anymore of the words she would just resent. ) what he wants, in full honesty, is her love, if he even still has it. ( he does, doesn’t he ? it is so difficult to tell sometimes, and he cannot bear such a thought, so he thinks about it not at all. maybe it is better to live in fantasy than such cold reality. ) ❛ i shall content myself with that, Liebes. ❜ his echo of the moniker she uses is but an affirmation to himself, one he wishes to do so again and again, whispering it against her knuckles: Liebes, Liebes, Liebes... and yet he stops himself from doing so. instead, he finally parts his face from his hands, and looks up once more at her face.
( dare he look vulnerable now ? he has stared death in the face many times over, yet this is the only time he feels raw and exposed. )
❛ i feel that we should ❜ — he starts, and yet before he could continue, there were the sounds of trumpets in the air. it must be some sort of message come to bellinzona. swiftly, he looks to the air, where birds flock to the air at the sound of such great trumpeting. it feels almost like an omen: their cawing, their forms against the blue sky. ❛ what is that ? ❜ he asks, the question almost rhetorical. he looks quizzically at his wife, then tilts his head back to the direction of the castle. ❛ well, Liebes, i would assume that the question of what to do with our afternoon has been sorted out for us, yes ? ❜