Chapter Text
The Feast of All Souls, the Day of the Dead. I entered the world when the churches hid from the world, shrouding themselves in black. A day of requiems. Oh, but I entered the world with such resounding joy. My very baptism was a festival. You may wonder where my love for all things opulent comes from, but I tell you now, it was ingrained in me from the moment I was given to Heaven. Perhaps even the moment I took my first breath. Nothing was more natural to me than beauty and art. Nothing was as good as indulgence. For 37 years, I resisted the melancholy of my true birthday.
For 37 years, I celebrated on the joyous and auspicious All-Saints Day, a day before my true day of birth. It was a day far more in tune with my exuberance. I belonged with the elevated Saints, not the commonplace Souls. The Saints in Heaven were celebrated, the lowly Souls were only mourned. Perhaps I was only deluding myself, but a pretty mask makes an ugly face easier to look at.
Maybe my birth was a foreshadowing of my short life. Maybe had I been born just one day earlier, everything would have gone differently. Maybe I was cursed, despite my material blessings and my beauty. But perhaps not. Even roses rot.
Death surrounded me on numerous occasions, but did not quite touch. I was the fifteenth of my parent’s children. There were sixteen of us in total, though of course three of the Marias (Elisabeth, Carolina, Carolina again), died before my birth. Charles Joseph, Johanna Gabriela, and another Maria, Maria Josepha. My father died in 1765 and Maria Josepha only two years after. Maria Josepha. I held her in my arms as she knew she was dying. I thought then that was the closest to death I would ever get.
I was entirely spoiled by my father. I was his favorite son. A society charmer. The beau of the ball. I supposed I worshipped him too, up until his death. He was God. A benevolent ruler to contrast the Empress’s domestic dictatorship. Death again. Then life. In spite of the numerous sorrows, my childhood was full of pleasure. I was raised by my governess, Countess von Brandeis. I was a performer, dancing, singing, playing the flute, the harpsichord. Anything I fancied. I performed in operettas and ballets with my siblings. I ran around Hofburg and Schönbrunn and Laxenburg.
Maria Carolina, my dear Charlotte. The best older sister. An inseparable pair we were. The servants would chase after us in anger, but they could not touch us. We were Philip and Charlotte. We were royalty. The only person with authority over us was our mother. To everyone else, we were untouchable. When my mother scrutinized my schooling, I charmed my governess into helping me cheat. Untouchable again.
The greatest change came when I began to present myself as an omega. When I was twelve and Charlotte fifteen, my mother arranged for the court doctor to come give us our typical yearly examinations. First my sister, then I were taken into a relatively sterile back room. I have no idea what happened to her, but when it came to me, I was given a usual physical exam. Then my blood was drawn. That was new. It was placed into a small glass dish and two leeches were placed beside it. One inched its way towards the plate while the other remained still. The doctor watched in confusion, muttered something to his assistant, and rushed out. I panicked. Was something wrong with me? Memories of my dying sister raced through my mind as I feared I too had contracted smallpox. I had been having headaches for several months, but those had subsided when I ceased to eat chocolate and cheese and various other foods.
My anxiety worsened with every moment the doctor was gone. When he returned, the Empress was with him. She looked grim, but rather than seeming worried for me, she seemed annoyed. That was not unusual. She could have been annoyed with me for dying. She grabbed me firmly by the shoulder and pushed me out the door. I passed Charlotte in the hall.
“Philip I-” she was cut off by our mother shooing her away and giving her a dark look.
I was guided through the castle and into my apartment. My mother motioned for me to sit at the small table in the sitting room and I did.
“You were your father’s favorite, you know. I hoped you would take after him in many ways. You have, in some regard.” She paused for a moment and sighed before continuing. “Philip, a great burden rests on your shoulders. The same burden was on Francis too.” I never heard her refer to my father using his first name. In public he was “the Emperor.” In private he was “your father.”
She seemed to be pondering what to say next, pacing back and forth in front of me. Several uncomfortable moments passed. “Your father married into this family, a family that has long been a family of alphas. Many of your siblings were tragically betas, and I only secured advantageous marriages for them by virtue of our royal status.” I nodded, pretending to follow. “The better marriages went to the alphas of our family, but of course, that is of little advantage to us because most of them were women, aside from your eldest brother, who will of course take over this throne.” I said nothing but I was beginning to understand.
She finally turned to look directly at me. She smiled. “Philip, you have the chance to do something extraordinary for us. You are an omega.” My heart sank. I knew what that meant, but I smiled and tried to put on a brave face.
“And Charlotte?” I asked.
“A beta, like the others. But you aren’t to speak to her anymore, except at your lessons. There is no more time for your childish nonsense.” And with that, my mother began pursuing suitors for me, suitors that could possibly bring glory to the throne. Suitors who could be politically advantageous and protect our kingdom. For that, who better than the Dauphin of France? Who better than Louis-Auguste?