Re: Blood and Iron - Chapter 572 572: Dynasties and Indiscretions

Lisbon, Palacio Nacional da Ajuda

The heavy oak doors swung open with a hush of red carpet, spilling warm golden lamplight onto the palace steps.

Liveried footmen snapped to attention as Bruno, Heidi, and Elsa ascended, flanked by discreet Tyrolean aides in dark dress uniforms.

At the top waited King Manuel II, slim and still very much princely in posture despite the streaks of silver at his temples.

At his side stood Queen Hedwig; a regal figure in deep emerald satin, Habsburg bearing unmistakable in the lift of her chin.

It had been nearly two decades since Bruno last saw Hedwig. Then she had been little more than a girl, barely an adult. Or perhaps not even. Time flew by so swiftly, Bruno could hardly remember such details these days.

But what he did remember was that she had been flush with the court’s petty intrigues, eyes that had lingered too long and filled with spite at the Prussian General who attended Franz Joseph’s funeral in full Austro-Hungarian ceremonial garb.

Now those same eyes widened just a fraction at the sight of him. The old memory flashed across her features, quickly masked by the polite composure of queens.

Bruno bowed with the easy grace of practiced courts.

Heidi, every inch the Grand Princess, swept into her curtsey with a faintly mischievous smile; she had seen that tiny spark in Hedwig’s gaze.

Eva, Elsa, and all the rest of his daughters and grand daughters, delicate and sharp-eyed, performed their own polite greeting with a confidence that pleased Bruno.

“Your Majesties,” Bruno said, voice smooth, the faintest edge of steel softened by familiarity. “Portugal remains the jewel of the Atlantic, though I suspect it is your hospitality that draws men here, not merely your shores.”

Manuel laughed, cracking the ice; though beneath it swam darker currents.He stepped forward, clasped Bruno’s hand in both of his.

“And Tyrol still sends us the finest hunters, the keenest minds… and, from what I hear whispered in our vineyards, the most troublesome statesmen.”

He cast a conspiratorial glance at Hedwig, who colored almost imperceptibly. Heidi raised an eyebrow at Bruno, her lips twitching.

“A pleasure to finally host you here, Highness,” Hedwig said, dipping her chin. Her voice did not betray the slight catch in her breath. “Your family is most welcome in Lisbon.”

That evening, in the grand dining hall

The hall was alive with the glow of countless crystal sconces, laughter and music curling through columns of pale marble.

Portuguese nobles mingled with Tyrolean retainers and cautious German envoys, all swept along by the easy charm of Lisbon’s court.

Bruno found himself seated opposite King Manuel at a long mahogany table dressed in silver and dark green.

Further down, Heidi and Hedwig spoke in low, private tones that might have been about children, or perhaps about distant days when a young archduchess carried a foolish torch for a foreign general.

There was no real danger in it; only the faint embarrassment of old girlish affections rearing up at inconvenient hours.

Manuel poured Bruno a delicate glass of port, his expression sobering.

“You heard about Seville?” he said quietly.

“Of course,” Bruno replied. “If Spain tears itself apart any further, it risks drawing in every power from Marseilles to Tangier. Your ports will bear the weight of that chaos long before Vienna ever hears the echoes.”

Manuel ran a hand through his neatly groomed beard. “That is my fear. The republic is fragile, beset by monarchists who squabble among themselves as much as with Madrid. I wonder sometimes if we —” he gestured to himself and Hedwig — “— are not the last thin ribbon holding this country from provincial ruin.”

Bruno’s pale eyes flickered toward Heidi who laughed now with Hedwig, oblivious for a blessed moment to the fractures beneath Iberian civility.

“Then perhaps, my friend,” Bruno said at last, “it falls to us to see that the old bloodlines do not simply vanish. Tyrol stands ready to guarantee Portuguese independence if Spain’s troubles spill across your borders. And… should the day come when harder measures are required, you will not stand alone.”

Manuel’s relief was carefully hidden behind a sip of port, but Bruno caught the slight sag of his shoulders.

“After all you have done for me, and my wife. After all that I have heard about your reputation over the years, I was half expecting you to whisper some poisonous conspiracy at my table. And yet you speak of guarantees, and guarantees alone?”

Bruno allowed the faintest smile. “Well, I wasn’t going to mention it on my first night, but if you wish to broach such a perilous topic, far be it from me to play coy….”

Those words, murmured beneath the pianist’s soaring chords and the laughter of two royal houses, would shape the Iberian world for decades to come.

—

Later, on the balcony

The warm Atlantic breeze carried hints of salt and orange blossom. Below, the lights of Lisbon shimmered across the Tagus.

Hedwig joined Bruno for a brief moment as Heidi walked ahead with their daughters, showing her a collection of marble busts along the parapet.

“I did once imagine,” Hedwig said softly, eyes on the river, “that I might have ended up in your palace instead of these shores.”

Bruno inclined his head. “And now you are queen of Portugal, mother to a bright line of heirs, and mistress of a city even Rome envied.”

She laughed; a small, wistful sound. “Do not flatter me out of your own discomfort, Bruno. I have no regrets. It pains me to admit, but seeing you here… I remember being fifteen, and it embarrasses me all over again. The way I thought I had chosen Manuel over you… And the lies I told myself at that troubled age to cope with the fact, it makes me want to jump off this ledge and cast myself into the sea.”

He gave her a formal little bow, voice perfectly smooth. “Then let us be grateful for the foolish hearts of children. Without them, this world would be dull indeed.”

As they rejoined their families, the small tension faded; replaced by an easier mirth.

Manuel clasped Bruno by the shoulder once more, speaking in low earnest tones about treaties and dispatch riders from Galicia.

Heidi smiled at Hedwig, Elsa and Eva both giggled at some joke only they understood, and the Lisbon night rolled on, hiding within it the delicate threads of alliances that might shape the next century.