The world is silent. Not a whisper, not a shout. There is not even a breeze to disturb the leaves yet to fall of the trees. The man is barely noticeable in this motionless limbo. He seems a statue at first. So very stiff, eyes fixed on the woman laying on the table. She is equally still: her brown hair arranged around her face, not a lock falling out of place. A pale elegant hand dangling of the end of the table, fingers lightly bent, her eyes closed, her face peaceful.
A little sound suddenly breaks through the silence, and the man's head shoots up, eyes roving the woman's figure. And there: a little flex in her fingers, a tremble in her eyelids, a little moan falling from her lips.
"Oh, Elisabeth," he says, such evident relief in the sigh he heaves, in the way his body slumps in his chair.
The woman's eyelids are now opening and closing rapidly, her chest heaving with little breaths she no longer needs. Her face is twisted, pained, as the onslaught of memories hits. Suddenly, seemingly involuntarily she lets out a fear-filled shriek, her hand flying out as if seeking support-
The man catches her hand in his, and her fingers close around it, holding tight. With the touch, her whole body seems to relax, to sink into the table. Her eyes close in bliss, and then open again, looking steadily at the man's face: an incredible peace and understanding seems to happen within her, and at last she inhales normally. Her eyes never leave his, not even as he presses her hand to his mouth in a kiss. She continues to look and look and look at him, and he in turn seems to want to drown in her eyes.
Finally, she smiles. And tells him: "I chose you."
In utter joy he pulls her into his embrace, sweeps her up, twirls her around. He offers her his hand, and she takes it. He pulls her into a dance, music suddenly all around them. Their dance is nothing alike the dance they shared once before, and even less as the stiff formal dances she shared with Franz. She spins and dips and twirls and he lets her, he lets her. Her choice. Her freedom.
Her life. Her Death.
And when he pulls her close to claim her with a kiss, she lets him, and this time his lips are warm, not cold, bring life, not death.
Death claimed her as his bride, and now they share their dance, but not the last. The first of many, the first of an eternity.
And so a black seagull soars over the ocean, and horses ride in the wind. A ship sinks, but the bird merely touches a wing to the water and then rises, high, high, until the sun has shielded her from view, and for a moment a girl in a white dress twirls, arms wide and careless. A circus performer, a gypsy.
A girl choosing her life.
A girl being free.
A/N: My interpretation of Death's kingdom is a bit mythological in this. Sisi had the choice to stay in Death's Kingdom or go to another realm and possible reincarnation. I don't really know, but then, does anyone?