She was merely a newborn when he first received a glance of her, the youngest daughter of Empress Maria Theresa and Emperor Franz Stefan. She was a fine child, with a head full of ash blonde curls, and the rosiest little cheeks, it would truly be a heartbreak if she were not to survive. He had to admit that he had been fascinated with the youngest archduchess from the time of her birth. Perhaps it is because she is very much like her mother, a woman he held great affection for, a woman that he could never had been with.
It was in the Schӧnbruun Palace in which their summer days were spent, where they would happily splash in the fountains and where they would ride the finest horses. Even the empress herself would join them, and although she seemed to be disapproving at first, he could tell that she loved the novelty as well. Maria Antonia was quite a spoiled child, and honestly he was a major figure to blame.
He watched one of the greatest friendships grow over the years, the closeness that Maria Carolina and Maria Antonia shared could not ever be replaced. In a world of harsh competition where daughters are married to make allies, these two were bound to stay close, Maria Antonia was determined to see that. Perhaps because there was no one else to rely on, that everyone else was watching them, waiting to see if they would fall or not. Court life could be difficult, not in the sense of suffering, but rather in the sense of upholding a reputation. He surely had to uphold his own reputation, hiding a love that could never be revealed, though this little girl gave him the confidence that he needed.
By the time she was nine years old she had lost her father and seeing her own reaction had made him feel the most miserable in his entire life as well. He held her as she wept and stroked her hair she wished to be, though it was nothing compared to what her father had given her. It was not an easy time for any of them, though the empire would most definitely live in, as it was Maria Theresa who truly held the power. In a sense, Roderich felt that he was betraying the memory of Franz Stefan, and that his intentions were not as pure as they were made out to be.
Love was a strange thing, they said, and it made you do equally strange things as well. Roderich was a good man, yes, but his heart had been weakened by devotion and forever unrequited passion.
"Empress, you must not go on like this!" He had once pleaded with her, in front of the archduchess as well, when she was praying in front of the coffin of her deceased husband. It pained him to see her go through this and that he was unable to stop it.
"My dear Roderich." She smiled and gently put a slender hand upon his fair skin that was now painted a rosy colour. "You must never tell an empress what to do."
Those were his favorite things about Maria Antonia and her mother, they were not so quick to obey so blindly. Yes, the archduchess was still a young girl and could be quite the ditz, but she was not completely dumb. There was much of her mother in her, he could tell that much.