Title: Loveliness, Carefully Displayed
Fandom: Elisabeth, though draws heavily from a scene in My Past, Marie Larisch's memoirs.
Summary: The young Marie Larisch basks in her utter fascination for her Aunt Elisabeth.
Characters: Marie Larisch, Elisabeth, Death (no particular version)
Notes: This is based heavily on a scene in My Past. It started out from the point of view of the young Larisch, but it morphed into the older Larisch telling her point of view. I haven't written any fanfiction in anything in, literally, 3 years, so please forgive the quality. I know it still needs some editing, but I thought it was fine to post as-is for now. It was also really interesting to write from the point of view of young Larisch- she's much more fanciful than I imagine older Larisch to be. I'll be honest and say that I didn't reread the scene from My Past before writing, so there may be a couple inconsistencies here and there.
Warnings: The plot doesn't really go anywhere, it's just a scene. Also, er, some excessive Sisi-praise from little Larisch at the beginning. ^^;
------
I flew from the house on wings of euphoria, spurred on by that pure, unadultered happiness that resides in the hearts of children. To be so honored! To be trusted enough to sit and speak with my beautiful aunt! It was more than I had ever expected. My eyes had tasted beauty and grace and my imagination hungrily cried for more. For what little girl doesn't dream of being or at least seeing a living fairytale?
I ran through the fields, the wind loosening my hair, and imagined myself once again kneeling at the feet of the empress. The entire room had been clothed in white- from the hairdresser's hands, to my aunt's garments, to the floor beneath her chair. Even the sun streaming through the windows had been brighter, paler than I could ever remember seeing. And all the lights, all the reflections, were drawn towards her. As if she absorbed all the suns rays and used them to enhance her radiant beauty. Her dressing had been so solemn, like a ritual. Like crowning the Virgin Mary in May, but instead of flowers a wreath of chestnut hair adorned her brow. And then there was me. The only dark spot in a basin of pure light. A peasant sinner before a queen of angels.
Yet, that wasn't quite right either. I had seen saints and angels, heard their stories numerous times, and they never regarded average humans in quite the tones my aunt had spoken with me. If she was not an angel, what was she? By this time, I had reached my destination: the pond.
The yards of my childhood home were one of my favorite places. Fields which gave way to shady paths and ponds. But this particular corner of our property was my favorite. The pond was set back, surrounded by ancient, shady trees. Trees perfect for climbing or sitting under. In fact, I often sat in the highest branches of my favorite which sat just a little ways from the water's edge, closer to the field. I had been forced to stop my run, but I could not stop my thoughts. So, with little elegance, I plopped onto the ground- giving little thought to my clothing- to ponder the questions suddenly blossoming in my mind.
What exactly did I know about this woman who intrigued and fascinated me? Precious little, of course, but children always assume they know more than they think. They always assume they can discern things that must be true. They never imagine that the real world may not work quite the way they would hope. However, my musings revealed that I knew the following about her: she was my father's sister, she was an empress, she was beautiful, and she loved her horses and being outdoors.
That's when it hit me. If she was not quite as pure and reverant as the angels, than she must be beautiful and magical like a fairy queen! For who loves nature more than those who dwell in it? Of course this was the most logical assumption! So when the urge to fish in the pond overcame me, I asked myself "What would Aunt Sisi do?" Would she care over her clothes and what others might think? No! Like the beautiful Titania, she would certainly bask in the glory of nature and all it offers! And so, with childhood logic on my side, that is exactly what I did.
It wasn't until later when, with my stockings slung dripping wet over my forearm, the gravity of the situation struck me. The empress may not disapprove, but my mother certainly would- and even she was nothing compared to my governess! So, being a resourceful child, I ran to the nearest tree I could find. If I stood on the stone bench beneath it, I could just reach the lowest branches and from there I easily scrambled to the top. The governess would never discover me up here! I would stay here until everything was dry: a secret with myself that no one would have to find out. With my shoes and stockings lying on the sunny branch next to me, I simply sat for a long while listening to the rustling of the wind in leaves and the trilling echoes of birds.
I'd almost fallen into a trance when I heard a different kind of rustling, a different chord of song. The sorts that come from skirts falling against each other and strained, argumentative whispers. Had I been found? Who would have looked here of all places? I tried to stay as still as I possibly could, my heart speeding at the possible danger of being caught. But as the light footsteps came ever nearer, my curiousity grew and I couldn't help peeking my head around the branches to watch the ground below.
Who did I discover before me but my aunt! My aunt looking fully human, proud and strong- every inch a queen. But the man she was arguing with I had never seen before in my life! There was something strange about him. As if even the very air around him tried to stay an inch away. If Aunt Sisi emanated the suns rays this morning, this man took them and absorbed them into blackness. I tried to look straight at him, to sketch his features in my mind, but a feeling of unspeakable dread allowed me only to catch glances out of the corner of my eye.
I couldn't quite make out what they were saying at this distance, but the man was certainly taking liberties with my aunt that no one- maybe not even her husband- would dare take. He seemed to be too close, too overbearing, and at one point he even grabbed her arm! Who was he to touch a fairy queen without her permission? For my aunt definitely didn't look pleased. But, to my amazement, she didn't run as I most certainly would have if confronted by someone like that. She stood her ground,arguing with him over whatever it was they were arguing over. I had never seen her so animated before, so without her porcelain mask of carefully displayed loveliness.
They were walking ever closer and I grew ever more still. They can't find me. They can't. Not the empress. What would she think? And not that man. Certainly not that man. Suddenly, a phrase carried on the wind, echoing through my mind, silencing the worries for a moment, though not relieving them.
"Perhaps you should worry less about yourself and your daughter. Perhaps you should worry more about your other children..."
I may never be able to describe his face, but I shall always remember the voice. Cold. Piercing. It sent a chill down my spine. A chill quickly and thankfully warmed by the familiar voice of my relative.
"Ha! My darling daughter is ill and you wish me to worry about them? They are well taken care of, as always! I won't let you trick me- I won't let you have her!"
The cold man said nothing, only twisted his mouth into some frightful imitation of a smile. As if he knew something she did not.
My aunt was having none of him. "I've told you before and my decision remains the same! I don't need you! Now, leave me!"
She glared at him, waiting. I still can't understand how she dared to be so close to him, dared to argue with him. How could she stare him in the eye for those minutes when I could barely glance at his feet for one single second?
After what seemed like hours, he backed away from her slightly. With his hand at his waist he gave her a mocking bow, as if he had no reason to pay respect to an empress. I could barely hear his parting words spoken softly, with just a touch of irony.
"...For now."
And with that he turned and walked away, past my hiding spot, back towards the small pond from which I came. Thank God I had not decided to spend more time splashing in the waters!
I had no wish attempt to watch his departure once I saw my dear aunt, now released from his presence, give a great shuddering sigh and turn towards the stone bench beneath my tree. Crying. She was crying. I wondered if I should comfort her. Instead I remained in my hiding spot, lest her disapproval be laid on me. That would be immensely worse than being chided by my governess!
I would have been content to sit there the rest of the evening if necessary. But eventually I felt a curious feeling on my back, a strange itching as if... as if someone were watching me. So I dared to glance over my shoulder. I dared to look down through the rustling green leaves. Below me was the man. The cold, cruel man. Staring up at me, boring holes into my soul, as sparkles of twilight glinted impossibly off of him and through him and danced fleetingly away from him. As if he were nothing more substantial than a wind. Terror clenched its icy grip around my heart.
I jumped. I gasped. I slipped, holding on for dear life, trying desperately not to fall to the ground which suddenly seemed so very far below.
When I regained my balance, he was gone, but so was another thing. The sound of my aunt's tears. A risked glance down at her proved my worst fear had come true: I'd been discovered.
"Marie," she called through her tear-stained voice, "Come down here."
I did as I was told. She asked me what I was doing hiding in a tree. But most importantly, she asked me if I'd seen her crying. As if her opinion of me rested on that very subject.
"Yes..." I sputtered, suddenly shy, "But why...?"
Her face was quickly regaining its regal quality, her tears only a vague streak on an alabaster cheek.
"I was worried about Valerie, is all. She's been ill."
A few tense moments passed between us before she took my small hands in her own dainty ones.
"Marie," she implored, her eyes looking into the depths of my own, "can you keep a secret?"
And I, with all my childish glee and romantic notions, felt as if I was being granted some amazing gift.
"Yes, of course I can."
And it was with those words that a lowly sinner was canonized as a saint. No longer forced to lay prostrate before the holy angels, she would instead be their closest confidant, the point of contact between the people of earth and the gates of heaven. Or, so my mind repeated over and over as years went by. Too late did I realize that with such privelage comes a curse. For to belong to such status, one must meet a certain level of expectation.
What mere mortal can be perfect as the gods?