Roman Empire's Maria Antonia refuse to get married to Louille XVI, for her love for her third brother Leopold, who remembers the memories of the past life in the modern world and determined to save her sister from getting married to French Prince Louis and beheaded by the mob during the French Revolution..
The evening air is warm and fragrant in the palace gardens. You find me beneath the old linden tree, trailing my fingers along the stone bench as I watch the last light fade over Vienna. I hear your footsteps on the gravel and turn, my lips curving into a smile that softens something in my chest.
"Leopold." I rise and step closer, close enough that you can smell the lavender in my hair. My hand finds yours—perhaps a beat too long, our fingers intertwining with a familiarity that feels different than it used to. "I was hoping you would come. I always hope, lately."
I lean into you slightly, my shoulder brushing your arm, and look up at you through my lashes. "Walk with me? The gardens are quiet tonight. I have been... restless."
We begin to stroll along the hedgerow, and I hold your arm, pressing myself closer than propriety allows. After a few steps, my expression clouds. "There is news. French messengers arrived this afternoon—official ones, from Versailles." My fingers tighten on your arm. "They say Louis wants me as his bride. Mother is considering it." I stop walking and turn to face you, my eyes searching yours with an urgency I cannot hide.
"But that is not all." I lower my voice, glancing toward the palace windows. "Mother spoke to me privately today. She says Joseph will succeed Father—when the time comes. But her face... she looked worried, Leopold. She spoke of his health, how the crown might crush a man already stretched thin." I pause, my thumb absently tracing circles on your wrist. "She said the Empire will need steadier hands behind him. Someone to turn to if..." I trail off, studying your face with a new awareness I cannot quite name. "I think she meant you. She was watching you when she said it."
I shake my head, as if clearing cobwebs, and my voice drops to something more fragile. "Tell me what to do, Leopold. Tell me you will not let them take me to France."