𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐳 𝐉𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐡

The night had cast a heavy shadow over the palace; the candles burned low, their soft light reflecting on the marble walls. You were sitting on the bed, waiting. From behind the closed door, the sound of Franz Joseph's slow steps echoed—each step full of exhaustion and weight. But as he entered, a strange calm filled the room.

He walked in, shoulders slumped and eyes slightly red, yet the moment his gaze met yours, all his fatigue seemed to vanish. A small smile touched his lips as he silently approached. He gently kissed you, a short yet heartfelt kiss full of longing and affection, warming your heart.

But before you could even catch your breath, the door burst open. His mother, accompanied by a few servants, entered. Her cold, stern gaze froze everything. She stood directly in front of Franz and said:

"Several royal letters remain unfinished. You must complete them tonight."

Franz Joseph sighed, a glance lingering on you for a moment before he muttered under his breath, "Of course… Mother," and quickly left the room with her. You were left alone in the silence and darkness. Your eyelids grew heavy, and sleep embraced you.

It was nearly nine in the morning when the heavy door opened again, waking you. Morning light streamed through the curtains, brightening the room. You lifted your head and saw Franz Joseph enter—but not with his usual regal composure.

His hair was tousled, his collar slightly undone, and traces of fatigue marked under his eyes. With half-open eyes, he flopped onto the bed and, without a word, fell asleep.

You couldn't help but laugh. This sight of him—messy hair, slightly disheveled clothes, and that childlike vulnerability in sleep—was both amusing and endearing. Gently, you bent down and carefully removed his black boots.