Chapter Text
Everyone felt the shadows grow longer at that time, but no one saw it coming like Crown Prince Rudolf.
And how he suffered from it.
I remember seeing him sitting in his room in silence, musing, pondering, writing down the first sentences of a letter just to tear it apart and throw it away, or wandering the royal gardens aimlessly. I remember seeing him seeking refuge down there in the catacombs of the palace, to hide himself from the world, the impending chaos, or his own helplessness.
Yes, I guess this is what broke him in the end. The feeling of being unable to change things, to make a difference, even though he was so good at predicting the chaos the world was on a trajectory towards, unstoppable, inevitable.
“You know,” he whispers as he turns around. “Maybe this world doesn’t even deserve to be saved.”
And right then, at this very moment, I know that the time has come. I got him where I want him. After all this time fighting just to receive one setback after another, he’s finally ready to give it all up. To just lay down his arms – and die.
“Maybe you’re right,” I agree – a rare thing for me to express an opinion on his usual endless monologues of complaints. Most of the times, I’m just the silent listener, a shadow sitting in the back, observing patiently, waiting quietly. Like a predator for his prey. Now I stand up and come over to him, to where he’s standing in the middle of the room with his back to me. I stop right behind him and put my hands on his shoulders.
He winces at the sudden touch, but doesn’t back away. It’s true, I rarely touch him. At the most, he comes to me, maybe holding on to my arm on days he’s exceptionally distraught, but I can’t recall a single time that I’ve been the one to make physical contact with him ever before.
“Look at what the world has come to,” I whisper, “your empire is unstable, the alliance between Austria and Hungary crumbling apart more and more every day. Look at how isolated Austria really is. Caught in the middle between Russia in the east, the German Empire in the north and France in the west. Radical movements emerging everywhere around you, even right in your midst. Do you really want to end up seeing the dark future you know is waiting just around the corner become reality? Knowing everything could have been prevented?”
“I keep telling my father,” he says after a short while and I start wondering whether he’s actually been listening. “I keep begging him to change course. But he won’t listen to me.”
“He lacks your foresight,” I add.
“He lacks a lot of things,” is his cynical reply and it’s a good thing he can’t see the smirk on my face. “But unfortunately, he’s not only ruining the Empire, he’s also keeping me from saving it. He’s the one tying my hands.”
“You know it doesn’t have to be like that,” I say softly and turn him around gently. He looks me in the eyes and I smile. “You don’t have to keep fighting anymore. You can just close your eyes, let yourself fall, sleep and rest – and forget about the sorrows of the world.”
“Hm…” He seems to like the thought, now smiling a little, closing his eyes as if daydreaming how nice it would be to just give up.
It’s the perfect moment. I lift my hand to his face. He’s ready. Ready to die.
“Let the world turn without you,” I whisper soothingly. “Let it fall apart without you.” I keep watching him as I lean closer. Just one kiss. Simple. That’s all that’s needed for him to lose his life – just like it happens for everyone in the end.
And his death, finally, will end up driving her closer to me.
Elisabeth.
“No!” He breaks away from me all of a sudden, agitated. “No, I can’t. There has to be another way.”
I’m certain he knows what I had just been up to and also the implications thereof. That it wouldn’t just have been any kiss, but the Kiss of Death and he wouldn’t have lived to see another morning.
Frustrating. I had been so close. Closer than ever before in all this time, those months that have passed since our paths had crossed once again.
I still remember exactly that cold winter’s day, when I saw him sitting in his room, his face buried in his hands, after his father had found out about the conspiracy. The snow wouldn’t stop falling. He hadn’t been afraid of me, not a single moment, and even though he never said it out loud, I know that right from the start he knew exactly who I was and why I’d come to him.
He knew in his heart that I was the one from a long-lost memory in which there was a little boy crying for his mother, scared and alone in the darkness of his room – in the darkness of his life. That I had been the one to take that boy’s hand, guard him, keep him safe from his fears and nightmares. That I had been the one to promise him that I would always be there for him whenever he needed me.
He recognized his only friend from decades ago at first sight when I appeared to him in his room on that snowy winter’s day, and without asking any questions he accepted that I was here to keep my promise, the promise I’d made to that little boy so many years ago.
He never suspected an ulterior motive other than me wanting to stand by him, and apparently still doesn’t want to realize the truth – even as I came so close to pulling him into the darkness just a second ago.
Now, I feel the cool and dusty air around us drifting slightly as he starts pacing once again. The faint light of the oil lamp throws our twisted shadows across the ancient barrels of wine that line the uneven walls of the palace’s underground vault – a gloomy place, still it has always been his favorite shelter, the place he comes to when the shadows start weighing on his mind the most.
I think it would be such a fit place for him to die.
“Open your eyes,” I finally say to make him stop. “Look around you. Who are you going to turn to? You’re just one man. What difference could you possibly make?”
That indeed makes him stop and he turns around to look at me for a second, until he shakes his head. “Someone will listen.”
“Someone,” I repeat cynically. “People would rather stand idly by and do nothing than lift a single finger. Most of them would turn a blind eye, even when facing the apocalypse. You know that.”
“My mother understands,” he replies. “We share the same views.” He takes a breath. “It was a mistake to unite Austria and Hungary from the very beginning. That bond won’t last. Eventually they will break apart again, and when they do, all of Europe will go down with them. She knows that, too.”
“And yet, she turns a blind eye. She pushes you away every time you try to talk to her,” I remind him coldly. “She’s lost her faith in politics a long time ago. Rather than worrying about the nearing end of the monarchy she prefers pondering on whether to bathe in milk or rose oil.”
He snorts, but I can’t tell if it’s directed at me or her.
I cross the distance between us and turn him around by his shoulder to make him look at me. “Face it,” I say as his eyes lock to mine. “The only person who could help you… just won’t.”
I can read in his eyes that saying this out loud hits him hard. His troubled relationship with his mother, whom he depends on so much, has always been his weak spot. When he was born, he was taken away from her to be raised a proper prince and military leader. She fought like a lioness to get him back, moved heaven and hell to rip him from the claws of his ruthless tutor and take care of his upbringing herself – just to abandon him as soon as she got the chance to. That crack in their relationship could never be mended, not even after all this time.
All of this I see reflected in his flickering gaze, and I know it won’t take much more for him to give in.
“I…” he shakes his head, very calm and tired now, and looks to the ground.
“Rudolf,” I say quietly. “Trust me. You won’t be able to change a thing on your own. Don’t waste your sanity trying.”
And all of a sudden, his eyes lock back to mine. “You know,” he whispers back and there is something harsh in his voice that hasn’t been there before, “I don’t care if I keep tilting at windmills all by myself. Maybe I can’t change the world on my own, but I can do what’s right and go down fighting. And even if I die trying, at least then I can rest in peace.”
And all of a sudden there’s this sparkle in his eyes, a sparkle of defiance – not against me in particular, but against the world – and I know I’ve seen this sparkle before.
Elisabeth, I think, and her face flashes before my inner eyes. The same spirit, the same determination, the same relentlessness that I’ve seen in her now becomes apparent in her son, and I’m surprised all of a sudden to recognize the resemblance between those two – it’s not just the same eyes, the same features, the same lips; there is also another kind of resemblance there, a similarity in the way they stand, the way they breathe, the way they move. I’m surprised I never noticed before, but even the color of their eyes seems to be of the same shade, a faded light blue, so dull it’s almost gray. It’s even more apparent with him than I remember it with her.
“What is it?” he whispers all of a sudden, and I see confusion in his eyes. He must have realized that I’ve been staring at him absentmindedly.
“Nothing,” I reply quickly, not willing to let him get away from the cliff that I just put so much effort into getting him to. I push those thoughts away and go on fueling his desperation. “I was just thinking about what you said. That you wanted to go down fighting. I can’t help but think of a fly trapped behind a window pane. It keeps panicking, flying against the glass until it inevitably dies. But reasonably it could have just sat there peacefully and inevitably die. The result would be the same. But the latter option would have saved it a lot of suffering and pain.”
The look in his eyes grows distant again and I know he’s considering what I just said. In his heart, he doesn’t want to be that fly that struggles so ridiculously in vain. And I think now is the time to give it a second shot.
I take another step towards him – but right at that moment, a strange thought crosses my mind. What is going on? I can’t get the resemblance out of my head… I find myself wondering if kissing him would feel the same as kissing her, if his warmth would be similar to the one I wish to feel from her, if he could give me a foretaste of how it would be with her…
I close my eyes and lean in to him once again, thinking of her, expecting to feel her lips – and even though he doesn’t break free this time, he still turns away. “No,” is his reply. “You’re wrong. Because the fly has no way of knowing that there isn’t a hole in the pane just right next to it. That’s why it can never just sit there and die. And you know that too, don’t you. But you tried to kiss me anyway. Why?”
I feel a sudden rush of annoyance, but to be honest I’m not entirely sure anymore if it is truly just because killing him is dragging so long or if there is actually another reason I’m frustrated that he dodged the kiss once more. Whatever it is – I force myself not to let it show, to keep being the understanding friend who slowly but surely talks him into suicide.
But as I lock my eyes to him anew, there’s something different in his gaze, a look of unfamiliarity that I’ve never seen before. He stares at me as if we didn’t really know each other; I notice he is eying my face, as if he was looking at me properly for the very first time ever.
It’s a strange feeling I get from this, like some degree of control had just been taken from my hands without me realizing it. There is now also something else in his gaze, and I feel that whatever the foundation of our interaction had been before, now it is not just about pushing him over the edge anymore.
His eyes trail down to my lips and somehow I can’t read him anymore. His gaze locks back to mine and suddenly I feel as if it was her look piercing through me, and for one short moment it actually is.
What a perfectly wasted opportunity. I could just lean forward one inch and he’d be dead before he’d even have enough time to just think of backing away. But all I do is stand there, frozen, captivated by those familiar eyes that somehow are his but also hers in a puzzling, paradox way.
I watch them trail back down to my lips again and this time it’s him positioning himself closer to me. “So, what now,” he whispers darkly as our lips are just about to touch and I can feel his breath against my lips as he speaks. “I can’t die tonight.”
“Then you won’t,” some part of me answers before I even have the chance to think. I’m completely taken aback by how quick I am to make that kind of concession, something which objectively is not up to me to decide. But the temptation of feeling his lips – her lips – overpowers the irritation I feel about my rash assent, so I repeat it more strongly to make him believe. “You won’t die tonight by my hands. I swear it.”
He keeps searching for something in my eyes, trying to figure out whether he can trust me or not, and the reservation still stays in his eyes, even as I grab his arm and lean in to him. And even though he still backs away a little, it’s only a halfhearted movement this time and so – finally – our lips touch.
It’s just a careful, light kiss, as he’s still full of suspiciousness, apparently fearing to drop dead in my arms any second now, but even though I don’t like this promise I gave him, I do intend to keep it.
He breaks away quickly, but stays close nevertheless, his eyes still closed, as if to consider, weighing the consequences.
I on the other hand find it hard to breathe. I feel a chill running up my spine, the kiss frightening, alarming, but at the same time wonderful, breathtaking – and so many times better than I could have ever dreamt of. This can’t be anything but the way Elisabeth’s kiss must feel, her affection finally directed at me, the warmth of her kindness, her strength contained in this one affectionate gesture and given just to me. I feel like I’ve managed to reach the end of a long, strenuous and painful journey that I longed for so much. Right at this moment, I don’t care if it’s actually her or not – I’m dying to feel this again. And this closeness is just too much to bear.
But before I can do anything, it’s suddenly him again who closes the tiny distance between us once more and brings his lips to mine for the second time, this time with much more confidence.
I don’t hesitate and kiss him back, feel all thoughts and musing being pushed aside. All I can think of is this enjoyable warmth that seems to surround us now, as he wraps his arm around my back and brings his other hand to the back of my head as if to keep me close, to keep me from getting away from him.
I realize I’ve still got my grip around his arm, but I don’t intend to let go, especially not as he breaks away to catch his breath. I can’t stand to be without this feeling anymore, not even for a second, so I follow him right away to steal another kiss.
He seems surprised at that, but only for an instant, as he quickly pulls me closer with his arm on my back, and suddenly I feel his hand at my neck sliding down, fingers reaching for my shirt. I catch his hand and pull it away, not entirely sure yet where we’re supposed to end up. For now, I just want to keep feeling like this.
But he doesn’t let go. He frees his hand from my grip, kisses suddenly intensifying as if to object against my indecision, and a few seconds later, his hand is back at the collar of my shirt, undoing the buttons one by one. This isn’t what I expected, what I wanted, but it surprises me that I end up doing nothing to stop this from happening, the destination where this is heading to now suddenly all too clear.
Maybe it’s because his presence just feels so good and familiar – like I’ve known it for ages –, and right now I feel more drawn to him than ever before. I feel this love I’ve been wanting for so long all of a sudden within my grasp. All of his being screams Elisabeth to me. And he wants me. The person I want wants me back.
Whatever this is and whatever it means, I don’t care anymore. This is what I want right now, what I need – him. I wrap my arm around him to pull him closer, keep him from getting away from me again, and I kiss him back with all the passion I have, all the feelings that had originally been saved for someone else, but break free now as this is the moment I’ve been longing for.
I feel him run his hand through my hair – what an amazing feeling to be wanted in return.
I gently push him back against one of the wine barrels – or is it him pulling? – and he hoists himself up to sit on it, now wrapping both his arms around my neck.
I stop the kiss for a moment and stay there with my eyes closed, just concentrating on the feeling of his warmth so close to me, on the feeling of being part of a pair instead of just being alone. I try to take it all in – this moment, every detail of it – the sound of his breathing, the warmth radiating from his body, the weight of his arms on my shoulders, the gentleness of his fingers stroking over my neck, the thrilling expectation sending shivers down my spine.
Then his lips touch mine again, he wraps his arms around me more tightly and pulls me back with him – but it’s not the hard wood of the barrel that we end up on in the end.
Shadows surround us – we’ve long left the world of the living behind. He must notice I’m taking him somewhere else, but he doesn’t seem to care, doesn’t seem to be frightened by the blackness, the wallowing shadows and fog around us. He must feel it, too: wherever I’ll take him, he’s safe with me. And even if it were otherwise – we’re long past the point of no return.
***
It’s morning when he opens his eyes again. A curious thing to see – his shaken, agitated look from last night now so even, calm and beautiful – his still messy auburn hair giving him such a charming boyish touch. I know I’m smiling as I watch him wake next to me.
He looks indifferent, melancholic even, as he motionlessly stares up into the fog and shadows surrounding us – there is nothing there but pitch-black darkness. Even though this is the first time that he must actually realize in his right mind that this place is far outside the world he belongs to, he stays calm, composed even. As if he didn’t really care at all whether this meant he was still alive or already dead.
I keep watching him quietly, until he speaks after a little while.
“I’ve been rejected all my life,” is the first thing he whispers, to me or just to himself I can’t tell. “By so many people. In so many ways. Ever since I was born.”
I lean forward and gently kiss his shoulder. “The fools.”
He snorts dismissively, but at the same time there’s a soft smile flashing over his face. I notice him close his eyes savoringly as my lips touch his skin.
“I know you think you can’t make a difference,” I whisper to him quietly as I run my hand along his arm, take his hand and bring it to my lips. “But there’s one thing you should know: Last night, for the first time in thousands of years, not a single human soul has died – and all because of you. I think that counts for a difference.”
He gives a little hesitant laugh and his features grow softer, eyes lighting up, and I just know how much he loves to hear this, to realize he does have some kind of importance, that he has power over the world and over me, even if it’s just for now.
He turns his head to look at me and for the first time since last night, his eyes meet mine. It stirs a warm but heavy feeling inside my chest, something that hasn’t been there before. Being around him has always felt good in a way, simple, uncomplicated. Like swimming with the tide. I think this is why I’ve always somehow enjoyed his presence. Now, with him here next to me, all of this feels heightened, intensified, like it would hurt if he ever went away.
That’s the real irony of this situation – regarding what I had originally planned with him yesterday. If I had succeeded, we would also have ended up here, though in a very different way and for a very different reason. Still, it’s hard to tell which possible outcome I should prefer. I can’t seem to regret a single thing that has happened – for better or worse, this night with him had been breathtaking.
He’s still smiling affectionately at me as he starts stroking over my cheek and hair, until he pushes himself closer and kisses me softly. “Thank you.”
The taste of his lips is so intoxicating to me. “Don’t ever leave me,” I whisper back, and at least for this very moment it’s true.
He lets go after a few moments, lying down on his back with a sigh. For a moment, he stays there like this, his eyes observing the different shades of black that dance around us in the darkness. “Will you tell me what this place is?” he eventually asks quietly, nodding at the swirling shadows around us.
“What do you think it is?” I ask and put my hand back on his shoulder. I can’t stand not actually feeling him with me anymore.
“Well,” he shrugs, “if they haven’t drastically redecorated the guest rooms at Hofburg Palace overnight, I’d say we’re not in Vienna anymore.”
“Not quite,” I admit sheepishly and kiss him because irony makes him so irresistible. Then I lie back next to him, also staring into the shadows. “This is where I take the dead,” I say quietly, assuring him that this moment is very much real, no dream, no illusion, no imagination. “Call it Netherworld if you like.”
“The realm of the dead, huh,” he whispers quietly and looks at me. “So, I did die after all?”
“I gave you a promise, right?” I remind him and my eyes lock to his. “And I won’t break it.”
He searches my eyes for something. I can’t tell if he finds it or not, but eventually he sits up and turns away.
“The place where you take the dead?” he slowly repeats after a while. “So, does that mean no Heaven? No Hell? No God? All of our Church’s teachings nothing but silly fairytales?”
I start stroking the skin of his lower side, a sensation that somehow feels so pleasant to me. “Let me put it this way,” I reply finally. “Being born is the prerequisite for being alive. Maybe dying is also a prerequisite for something else.”
He laughs quietly as I say this and gives me a look from the side. “I guess you have to be mysterious about this.” I love the tiny smile curving his lips.
“Naturally.” I push myself up on my elbow and kiss him softly.
“Fine,” he concedes with a snicker in the end. “No more questions about transcendency.” He lowers his voice and pulls himself closer to me. “But you can’t blame me for wanting to know more about you. I mean I know who you are, what you are, but what does that mean? Why do you do the things you do?”
I get away from him a little and sigh quietly. I guess I really can’t blame him for asking questions. I was the one who brought him here after all. And to be honest – I’d actually want him to know. But still… “Let’s just say there is an emperor that I serve.” And I don’t know why I add this, but it just comes over my lips before I realize it, “It’s not your father.”
That makes him laugh all of a sudden and he shakes his head as he grins at me. “You don’t say!” But in the end, he seems satisfied with what little I allowed him to know. “Very well. Keep your secrets if you must. We wouldn’t want to anger your emperor. But just one last thing. Because after all that’s happened, I at least deserve to know your name. If you even have one.”
“I’ve been given many different names by many different people,” I say quietly.
“But I have to be able to call you something,” he objects. “I mean what do you want me to call you? Just… Death? Friend? Unknown one? The mysterious emperor’s servant? Black prince? That sounds catchy. Or would you prefer some ordinary name? How about Xaver? Or Gustav?”
He keeps babbling on, coming up with ridiculous names to tease me, but he doesn’t notice that for a moment I find it hard to breathe. Black prince. My blood froze as he came up with exactly the same name his mother had given me when I first met her. I know who you are, black prince. I’m not afraid of you. If you let me, I want to stay forever by your side.
Well, what did I expect? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. It was their similarity that has drawn me to him after all. And all of a sudden, I realize it once again, that painful resemblance. The exact same eyes, the same lips, the same smile.
Some distant thought is stirring inside me, something I cast away from my mind just for this one night, a horrible truth – but before it can reach me, I hastily catch his lips in a kiss and let myself drown in it. For this moment, I’m his and all those envious demons have to keep silent.
*** Rudolf ***
When I open my eyes again a few moments later, I feel like suddenly being torn from a beautiful dream – his lips on mine are gone and I’m back in the real world, sitting on my own bed in my own room, and there’s nothing but silence around me except for the familiar ticking of the clock. The darkness is gone, all that’s left is bright but ordinary sunlight falling through the curtains.
I’m all alone. He’s gone. I’m sitting here on my bed by myself, just like any other morning – and if I wasn’t lacking my clothes, I could have sworn all of this had been nothing but a dream.
With a sigh I let myself fall back on the pillow. I can’t deny I’m more than a little perplexed and disappointed by this, snubbed even, that he took me back right in the middle of this conversation we were having, without even saying goodbye or at least giving me some kind of explanation. I wonder if I offended him somehow by teasing him about the name, but I certainly meant no harm.
Only after a while do I manage to push the thought away that he might have dumped me, when I remind myself of everything that had happened last night, how deeply affectionate he’d been with me, how he’d smiled at me in the morning as if his whole world revolved just around me, how he kept touching me lovingly, how we spoke to each other just a few moments ago – like old friends, like people who trusted each other. He surely would have acted differently if all of this had meant nothing to him. No one forced him to stay with me all night long and miss out on his duties.
His duties, right, I realize after a while. This has to be the reason. He told me he neglected them just to stay with me. Well, sure, there must be a lot of work to catch up on now.
That thought calms me a little as I slowly crawl out of bed and get dressed. Even though I’m not particularly keen on going on with everyday life – I know that no matter what happened last night, the Empire is still in the same sorry state it has been before with all issues, problems and dilemmas as pressing as before and just waiting patiently for me around the corner – this was nothing but a short, pleasant break. But all breaks have to end eventually.
I haven’t even closed the door to my room yet, as immediately Professor von Widerhofer, our court physician, approaches me with a worried look on his face. “Your Highness, good morning,” he greets me a bit breathless. “I was just on my way to check on you.”
That’s what he says, but I’m pretty sure he’s already been lurking out here for a while, since I know how much he hates bursting into someone’s room without permission. “Good morning, Professor,” I greet him back.
He eyes me with a concerned expression. “May I ask how you’re feeling, your Highness? Your family missed you at breakfast.”
I look at him for a moment. A familiar sight, the short man with his dark hair and gray beard. He’s been around at the Palace for as long as I can remember, he already treated me as a child. It makes me all the more uncomfortable lying to him. But given the circumstances, what choice do I have? “Yes, actually it’s the headaches again,” I claim as I bring my fingers to my forehead. “It started last night. I was feeling dizzy in the morning, so I stayed in bed a little longer.”
Von Widerhofer listens to my story with a deep frown on his forehead. I hope this is due to the fact he’s concerned, not because he caught me lying. “I’ve been hoping you were over this,” he finally sighs and waves at me. “If you don’t mind, your Highness, would you come with me for a second? I’d like to take your temperature and get you a few painkillers.”
“Thank you,” I reply, acting relieved, and follow him obediently to his office, which is located right in the adjacent wing of the palace.
Of course, my temperature is perfectly fine, but he ends up giving me the painkillers anyway, releasing me from my usual duties until afternoon.
Naturally, this is not an opportunity that I would ever reject, so instead of heading to my study I make my way to the main terrace in the center of Schönbrunn Palace. It’s the place where you get the most stunning view over the royal gardens, so it’s pretty popular for receiving guests in summer. Today however, luckily, it’s unoccupied, so I can enjoy a little spare time on my own.
One of the servants quickly spots me wandering around and follows me immediately. “Good day, your Highness,” he greets me with a bow as I sit down. “Would you still like some breakfast or rather an early lunch?”
I notice it’s ten to eleven. Hardly surprising I’m causing heavy confusion for the kitchen. “Some breakfast would be nice.”
“As you wish.” He bows again and vanishes back into the palace, while I take a deep breath and unfold the newspaper that’s neatly been put out ready on the table next to me.
It sure is a beautiful day, I notice, and I’m not just saying this because it’s the day that follows a beautiful night. A warm and sunny day in June, the sky above Austria a fairytale blue, not a single cloud in sight. The bright sun shining down on the park with all its colorful flowerbeds, expensive fountains and well-trimmed hedges.
My eyes run over the headlines, quickly scanning the latest developments in economics and politics. Nothing but the usual madness and chaos that dominates our world nowadays, the journalists acting shocked at every little new development towards our giant downfall, as if each catastrophe came as a total surprise and no one ever saw it coming. I catch myself rolling my eyes.
Even more ironic that no one is able to report on the actual sensation that has occurred recently: Throughout the entire world, not a single person has died last night – because Austria’s Crown Prince Rudolf has left the world of the living behind and spent a night with Death.
I can’t help chuckling physically. The very thought makes me sound like a madman! Maybe I’ve already become one – it wouldn’t be hard to believe for anyone who sees me sitting there, on my own, laughing to myself like a crazy person.
But in my heart, I know it’s not just irony that makes me snicker in glee. It’s a surge of euphoria, of actual, real happiness and also a fair amount of pride that sweeps over me once I remind myself that this has actually happened and of all people I had been the one.
Someone had actually voluntarily decided on me, not pushed me away but pulled me close, craving for my closeness, my touch, my kiss. Someone had actually not only devoted all of their attention to me – something he’s already done so many times before – but begged for all of my attention in return – and I can’t even remember ever being the one pursued; it’s always been me, the one chasing.
Now I sit here in the sun, closing my eyes, thinking back to this night with him, anxious to remember every single sensation, all those touches and kisses and unspoken vows, the warmth of his lips on my skin, the perfection of his features and body, the captivating brilliance in the depth of his eyes.
And all of this had been offered to me and just to me – I can’t even put in words how good this makes me feel. Like I mattered, like there was some importance to me, power in my hands, some kind of worth to my existence. Even just for being able to feel like this, I owe him the world.
It’s still crazy though, that we’ve come to this seemingly out of nowhere. Because this – at least on my side – has neither been planned nor ever been imagined before. It’s not like we’ve been dancing around the bedroom all that time. Of course, I’ve always felt a deep bond connecting us. Because he’s constantly been the only person in the world who would understand me, keep me company, stand by me. He’s been my tower of strength, the place where I could come to in need and not be turned down. I can’t deny that this has always made me feel grateful to him, made me detest the thought that one day all of a sudden he might be gone – because then I would truly and utterly be alone.
Last night, however, something had been different from all the other times we spent together. Something had shifted, for the very first time. I can’t say that I was totally surprised or perplexed when I realized he was trying to kiss me – I knew very well the implications of the Kiss of Death. To think that I really managed to make him care as much about my fate, feel for me during all those times of desperation and hardship that he would offer me the greatest gift he could offer: an easy way out. Just one simple, painless kiss and all my suffering would come to an end.
Even though that’s all that was behind it – an offering out of mercy – the idea of him kissing me had changed something within me. Without me wanting to, I suddenly saw him with different eyes.
It’s just as they say: Sometimes you have to take a step back, dare a fresh look – and you might end up realizing a more fundamental truth that has been obvious all along, but you were just too blind to see.
And that fundamental truth had been right before my eyes all this time: A handsome man, empathic and mysterious, powerful and familiar and just within my reach – whose beautiful dark eyes looked at me like no one else had ever done before, whose whisper could send shivers down my spine, whose touch would make me freeze and flare at the same time.
The fundamental truth was that I wanted him; and so I took a chance. And for once, unexpectedly, I was rewarded.
The servant reappears from inside with a small serving cart. I put the newspaper down as he serves up the breakfast: A steaming teapot, little jugs with milk and sugar, a smaller pot with coffee. A breadbasket with fresh rolls, dark jam, golden honey. Then my plate, the cup on a saucer, a knife, a spoon and a napkin. He neatly arranges all of this on the small wooden table and only leaves after I assure him that everything is absolutely perfect and I couldn’t wish for anything else.
Then I take in a deep breath, shift on my chair and decide to cut me some slack, at least for a few minutes.
But as soon as I put milk in my coffee and am just about to take a gulp, my eyes suddenly dart back to the newspaper, now again folded, lying peacefully on the chair next to me. And yet, the black letters, the headlines, the photos seem to glare at me like a flaring fire in the dark. For the love of God…
I know something’s happening to me in my head, something that might end up changing everything and I feel a shiver of excitement jolting through my body. Could it really be? I think and put the cup back on the saucer. Then I pick up the newspaper and stare at it as if I was holding the Golden Grail right here in my hands.
Could it be that the simple solution to my problem is lying right there literally in front of me? Could it really be just like with him: take a step back, dare a fresh look – and the fundamental, much simpler truth becomes apparent?
I keep staring at the newspaper and suddenly see it for what it really is: Not the amassment of disastrous news that keeps haunting me every breath I take – but a medium, a publication, a platform to reach an audience…
I get up, my chair scraping over the floor with a shriek as I push it back. Suddenly I feel breathless, dizzy but rush inside anyway and head for my study, not caring about breakfast – or anything – anymore. It’s a revelation that makes my blood pulsate through my veins. And I sense a grand feeling surging over me all of a sudden, hard, heavy, unstoppable; even though it’s strange and alien to me, I know exactly what it is:
It is the tides turning in my favor. The beginning of Prince Rudolf’s rise.