Summary: Much too soon, Death collects his daughter's soul.
Die Schatten werden länger
Death watched, listened, waiting in the wings just behind the veil between worlds. A group of Hungarians, among them a former revolutionary and an aristocrat, were discussing the Empress Elisabeth as she stood with the Kaiser Franz Joseph and received gifts from the Hungarian citizens who wished to see her.
"The Empress is lovely," one of them said.
"But where does she stand on Hungary?"
"She loves everything that her mother-in-law hates."
"Then she will support us."
"She seems sad," one commented.
"Her children are sick," another answered. "The little Sophie is reported to have a high fever."
This, Death knew all too well. Already he could sense that his daughter would not recover from her illness. He sighed at the irony of the situation: Sophie, Elisabeth's firstborn and his daughter, would be the first to die, whereas Gisela—Elisabeth's daughter by Franz Joseph—would survive and recover from the illness inflicted on both the young girls.
It was time.
Unseen, he parted the veil between worlds and gathered the little two-year-old demigoddess in his arms. She was weak, her fever strong.
„Schlaf, mein Töchterlein," he crooned. „Träume, Liebchen mein. Ich führ dich fort aus Raum und Zeit in eine bessere Wirklichkeit."
Little Sophie reached out for him, smiled, recognition in her eyes. This close to him, the glamour that had her looking like Franz's daughter had faded. She had her mother's eyes and hair (thank the gods), but Death could see himself, the shape he'd taken around Elisabeth, in her face.
The light faded from her eyes, and her body grew still in his arms. All that was left to do now was to collect her soul, but… not yet.
A cold smile that didn't reach his eyes curved Death's lips.
Oh yes, he knew exactly where to go, where he wanted to take his daughter's soul to the next world
Time to join the procession.
-x-
Minutes later he was seated on a block of marble, the last of the line that was giving presents to the Empress and Emperor, little Sophie's body lying in his arms across his lap. Then he was in front of Elisabeth, lifting the tiny body in the air.
She turned from embracing Franz Joseph, saw him. Stumbled back.
„NEIN!" The scream tore from her throat. One hand went to her chest, her heart. „Nicht mein Kind."
Death rose in one fluid movement, cradling their daughter in his arms, stepped closer to her. Elisabeth recoiled further from him. "This cannot be," she breathed. "Death…"
Ignoring her pleas, he lifted little Sophie's mouth to his and gently gave her his kiss, freeing her soul—claiming it. The whole time, he held Elisabeth's gaze.
"Murderer!" she cried. "I will never forgive you!"
He allowed a miffed expression to cross his face as he turned, crouched down, and gently placed little Sophie on the marble slab, brushed a hand tenderly over her hair—arranged the tiny body. His expression softened as he looked down at his daughter.
Then he lifted his head, looked right at Elisabeth. Reached out with his left hand for her. „Weißt du noch, wie wir erbebten, als wir zwei im Tanze schwebten?" Elisabeth moved closer, one hand reaching out for him, and slowly knelt beside her daughter. (Their daughter, but she didn't know that yet.) „Du brauchst mich. Ja, du brauchst mich."
He grazed one hand over little Sophie's hair, her white dress, just barely touching her, before drawing his hand back. "Gib doch zu, dass du mich mehr liebst, als den Mann an deine Seite", Death crooned to Elisabeth. He knew it, knew that she knew it. More, he was Elisabeth's husband—not Franz Joseph. Slowly, he stood. „Auch wenn du ihm scheinbar mehr gibst, du ziehst ihn in die Nacht." Behind him, he could sense the Kaiser moving forward, reaching out for both Elisabeth and little Sophie. Death moved aside, circling around the marble and his Empress—giving the imperial couple time to grieve.
„Die Schatten werden länger. Es wird Abend, eh' dein Tag begann." Franz Joseph was forgotten as Elisabeth slowly stood, her eyes flicking from the grieving Emperor to Death. He allowed himself to look down at the body of his young daughter, knowing her spirit was waiting with one of his angels to cross over. That it wouldn't be long until she was home, even if it was far too soon. „Die Schatten werden länger." Death's head snapped up, turned to stare at the Empress of Austria. „Mit dir stirbt die Welt!" It was a snarl, a warning. Elisabeth backed up, turned to leave. He could see the grief, the fear, the anger (directed at him) on her face. He reached out to her one last time „Halt dich nicht fest daran!"
Then the shadows swallowed her, and she was gone.