Fandom: Tanz der Vampire (Dance of the Vampires)
Characters: Alfred, other canon character (guess)
Rating: PG
Summary: Alfred is restless the night before leaving Königsberg.
Spiegelkabinett
Königsberg was chilly at night, and so Alfred wrapped himself more tightly into the cocoon he had made of his wool blanket, as he listened to the sounds of the street below his window.
There was the clutter of a horse-drawn carriage pulling over the stones, and the voices of two boys whom Alfred recognized from university but who's names he couldn't recall. There was the coughing of his mother from the other side of the house, from the room that had been his until he had moved into the cooler room on the north side a month ago. He didn't mind: his mother's health was important to him, the room he had now was slightly larger and besides, he was hardly going to be there much longer.
That reminded him that he needed to sleep. Tomorrow he would be on his way to a far away country, a journey the others had not believed he was going on at all. They'd all be surprised when he'd stop coming to lectures! Alfred was scared but also pleasantly excited. His suitcase was packed with his warmest clothing, a bag of sweets from his mother and books Professor Abronsius had requested, but he couldn't say that he was well prepared for what might be coming.
Transsylvania... he had never travelled, never left home for longer than a night out with his friends, and within the space of the next day he would be on his way to the wilderness of the Carpathians of which he knew next to nothing. He chose to push the thought of the professor's target, "vampires", to the very back of his mind; he wasn't even sure whether he believed in them. Instead, he shut his eyes and tried to imagine the country he would be going to.
There would be huge, ragged mountains that withstood the winds in great heights, where the snow never melted. And forests, endless impenetrable woods of thick, lush green trees that had each stood for over a hundred years. Rivers ran through the woods, whispering until their voices rose to a roaring noise when they reached the plains, carved at the roots of the mountains, then calmed down to a steady hum as they travelled into the sea.
And deep inside this beautiful, ancient land would be the castle of the count. There would be mountains within sight and bridges to cross before a narrow forest road would lead to the castle, protected by a large iron gate that had been wrought in times too long ago for anyone to remember.
As Alfred fell deeply asleep the gate opened. Behind it was a tall door with faces carved into it; demons and wolves, especially wolves. But this, too, opened easily and as he entered the grand hall he was not afraid.
Surrounding him was the warm glow of candlelight, making him cozy even as his body lay in a cold room. He allowed himself to trust the dream and followed the amber glow, which guided him further inside the castle. It led him through tall but narrow hallways where there were pictures he hardly took in, empty chairs at empty tables from which invisible eyes seemed to turn around to stare, which made him uneasy for just a moment, before relief washed inexplicably over him again. There were dusty books and velvet curtains and everywhere candles, all of them lit.
He entered a ballroom, the most beautiful he had ever seen. It was so huge he could not see the ceiling or the other end of the room from where he was standing. There was a grand staircase, carved pillars, lit chandeliers and again drapes of the richest velvet, and in the centre of this magnificent room stood a charmingly small dining table.
The candles lit up as he sat. There were but two chairs, Alfred noticed, and no plates, only two glasses and a decanter of purplish red wine. He was not much of a drinker, but suddenly a longing he had never felt overcame him and he reached for it, but as his hand clasped around the neck, it passed right through, as though he were a ghost.
He tried again and again. His mind refused to register than it was futile, that he would never drink from the decanter, and finally a cold hand lay itself upon his shoulder.
He cried out softly in his sleep and whirled around, to find suddenly that the room was lined with mirrors, endless mirrors in which he could see a party of costumed guests from all ages, all staring at him from beneath their frightening masks. He could see them in the mirrors as clearly as the table and the candles, but whenever he looked around the real ballroom, he always found he was alone.
A terrible feeling of loneliness washed over him when he should have been frightened. There was somebody standing behind him, a face he could neither place nor register, and he knew it was a friend. The person, who was rather tall, leant down to him and he heard a few whispered words but couldn't make out their meaning. He wanted to reply but couldn't, and suddenly the image of the dream changed.
At first Alfred couldn't tell what it was that had changed, until he noticed he had disappeared from the mirror. The faces still looked the same as they had before, as did the person behind him, but now the mirrors were gone, had never been there, and the mirror-people were in front of him, not behind him - or were they ghosts? Then if he had no reflection, what was he?
Alfred...
He gasped and twisted in his sheets, cold sweat on his brow despite the early morning chills coming through the window.
"Alfred," his father's voice said firmly, and he sat up with a yelp, instantly fully awake.
"Have I missed the train?!" he gasped, looking up at the stern voice of his father and then down to his tiny little sister, standing on chubby little legs and staring up at him with her big blue eyes as though she had seem a ghost.
"No," his father replied as he gestured for the maid to open the curtains, "But you will. Get dressed." With that he offered Alfred a tired smile before he left the room.
Alfred breathed out in relief and smiled at his sister. "Don't suck your thumb, you know mother doesn't like it."
The little girl reacted by staring up at him before running out of the room. Alfred shrugged, her behaviour was often odd. If his father was to be believed, his own had been, too, when he had been four.
He thanked the maid as she left the room and stood up to stretch, then began to get dressed.
As he buttoned up his waistcoat he stood before the window and looked outside. He was up earlier than his friends, most would not stir from their beds until five. He smiled and wished he could be around to see their faces when they were forced to believe him.
He could see the sun begin to rise above the roofs of the city and he thought that, from today, its life would have to go on without him. He felt strangely proud of himself for really going through with it, and although he remembered the frightening parts of his dream, the beautiful images from it wouldn't escape his memory.
For the entire morning, he was smiling with the thought that he was off to Transsylvania, off to adventure, and the feeling that when he got there, he'd find something he'd been waiting for.
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