Persuasion

“I can’t take that throne. I can’t.”

The moon shone brightly, that night. Though the Christmas trees were already up in the garden of the palace, the weather had been clear for quite a few days- clear, yet cold- but the man who was pacing his rooms didn’t seem to notice that. Perhaps he simply did not care, too, because it was barefoot, only clothed in a long, white shirt with long sleeves that he trod the cold marble- until, finally, he pulled back a chair, placed next to one of the large windows, and sat down, face twisted in irritation and obvious doubt.

The man in white was young still- somewhere in his early thirties, late twenties perhaps- and he had the handsome face of a man used to responsibilities- of a man who had never had much time or opportunity to lead a calm life.

Albert, Prince of Belgium and about to be crowned King, had, indeed, never had much of a quiet life. True, he wasn’t the son of the old King himself, merely a nephew- but as it had quickly become clear that his cousins Louise, Stephanie and Clementine would not celebrate the birth of a brother anymore, he had, after the death of his elder brother, been prepared for the throne right away.

Of course he had never doubted his uncle’s decision to appoint him Crown Prince- that was, while that uncle, dangerously quick-tempered, bearded man he had been, had been alive.

His death had changed quite a few things- and not only for his daughters.

“Yes, you can.”

The Prince nearly yelled out loud as nothing but the sound of her low, serious voice had alerted him of his wife’s presence. And yet he knew it was her, even before he turned around is his chair- and indeed, there she stood.

Elisabeth of Bavaria, now to be Elisabeth of Belgium, had never been a pretty woman, true. She hadn’t been pretty when Albert had married her at twenty-four- and neither was she pretty as she stood there, in that door-opening, at thirty-three.

“Elisabeth- what did you say?”

“I said that you can take the throne. I’ll tell you even more- you will.”

He shook his head, waiting for the rustling of fabric that would indicate her leaving- but at the same time, he knew she wouldn’t. His and Elisabeth’s marriage hadn’t been one out of love, true, but they had never disliked each other- which was more than quite a few, especially royal, couples could say.

In fact he had always respected his bride, despite her obvious lack of beauty- because his uncle might not have seen that, but Albert had- Elisabeth had brains. Brains and enough courage to show those brains to the world.

Still here, she was wrong. Clearing his throat, the Prince got to his feet and shook his head. No, no, no- definitely not.

“I can’t. I don’t know if I am capable to reign and more important- I don’t know if I want to reign, either. My uncle was-”

“Your uncle was an egocentric bastard- well, I’ll grant you that.”

It was with something very much like an amused smile on her face that the Princess fell down in the chair Albert had been occupying moments before. Twisting the cord of her dressing gown between long, violist fingers, she looked up at her husband- who looked as if he was about to protest.

“Oh come on, Albert, you know it is like that. Don’t act as if you don’t- I swear, sometimes I just can’t bear the hypocrisy over here!”

“Perhaps, but that is not the point. I was never meant to take this throne, Elisabeth. I wasn’t born a prince-”

“Your grandfather was a king.”

“- and I can’t do this. I can’t take this responsibility. Not for me, and not for this country, it wouldn’t do any good- you must see that.”

Her face, though, was unaltered- still calm, still serene- still very much herself.

“Albert, it’s not as if you have any choice. If you don’t ascend the throne, whom will you give it to? Your cousins? One of your cousins’ children? Can you hand over the throne to a thirteen-year old? You know the international situation is precarious- and you’re intelligent.”

There was a strange light in her dark brown eyes as she gazed at him. No, Elisabeth had definitely never been a beautiful woman- but her stubbornness had always made up for that- at least, in his eyes. And in the end.

“You don’t have the luxury of a choice. None of us has- you know that and I know that. You will be King and I-”

There was a long pause before the thin, young woman, profile with the determined chin clearly etched against the moonlit sky, continued her sentence.

“-and I, I will be Queen.”

As she, sharply, turned her head again, Albert knew he had made his decision. Or maybe she had made it for him- that he didn’t know.

As he sat down beside her, the young man didn’t speak a word.

Nine years.

Nine years had he been married to her- and nine years she’d remained a mystery. An undoubtedly royal mystery- and a stubborn one.

“I wonder how you do it, Elisabeth. I will be King- and you will be Queen. I wonder why you always manage to convince me.”

It was in a gesture of unexpected tenderness that the man, having grown up in a world where affections were barely ever shown, grabbed his wife’s hand. The young woman, though, rose to her feet as soon as he looked at her- and then, finally, smiled a vague, bitter smile.

“Don’t you know, Albert? Don’t you? It’s because I love you. I love you, Albert. I haven’t loved anyone in my entire life but I do love you. Madly.”

She was gone from the room a mere moment later- and in the chair sat a very astonished young man- a young man who would one day be a King, who would one day be victorious in a war that hadn’t even started yet.

And he realized that it was true. Finally, he knew that it had not been a lie, it hadn’t been hypocrisy, not sarcasm- she loved him.

Even after three children and nine years of marriage, he’d never been able to be sure she loved him- liked him, even- but now he knew.

Elisabeth of Bavaria loved him.

It was a stunning idea.