"At the Edge of the Abyss" by Valancy, Fandom: Elisabeth
Title: At the Edge of the Abyss
Author: Valancy
Fandom and characters: Elisabeth (the Kunze/Lévay musical); Elisabeth and Death
Rating: PG-13
Prompt and spoilers: “Insanity-- a perfectly rational adjustment to the insane world.”
--R.D. Laing
Don’t know how applicable the concept of spoilers is to a musical, which is just one piece of work so either you know it or you don’t. Spoils the general idea of the musical, though, without spoiling all of the plot.
Many thanks to clarinetqueen for beta-reading! She did a great job, and any mistakes in English etc. that remain are only my fault. Also, big apologies for how late this is. Life stuff came up and I overestimated my ability to finish a story fast when writing in English, which I usually don’t do.
Notes: Takes place some time during “The Restless Years” part of the musical.
For those who aren’t familiar with the musical: the basic idea is that it tells the life story of the Empress Elisabeth of Austria (also known as Sisi or Sissi) who was an independent-minded but deeply unhappy woman, and in the musical the other main character is Death, who is in love with her. For those who are aware of the musical and wonder which versions I’m basing this on: various European versions, with Death originally being supposed to be based on Szabó P. Szilveszter’s Death but turning out a bit different after all, and Elisabeth being just my own personal Elisabeth who is based on both the historical character and the interpretations of various actresses, especially Pia Douwes, Janza Kata and Maya Hakvoort. Actually, she may be a little crazier than my standard Elisabeth.
***
”Elisabeth.”
The whisper, though barely audible, echoed through the veil between the worlds. The woman sitting by the mirror started. Her eyes, until now fixated on the image in the mirror, began frantically searching around the room.
Death let her search for a while more, remaining hidden in shadows, and watching her. The mortals said - or whispered, for you could not say such things too audibly about the Empress - that she was losing her legendary beauty. To Death’s eyes she was as beautiful as she had always been each time they met. But if that which mortals thought of as her beauty was fading, it was all the better for him. The less she had on this earth, the more likely she would be to finally be his. He had waited long enough while she attempted to live a life that could never be more than a pale shadow of what she needed.
“Elisabeth,” he said again, and stepped out of the shadows into her world. Again he had to admire the way she stared back into his eyes, not flinching at the sight of him, merely looking at him appraisingly, as though weighing her best options. Which, in all likelihood, she was doing.
“You,” she said softly. He could hear emotions held back in her voice, and longed to step closer to her, to hold her and draw those emotions into him. But when he moved closer, she rose from her chair and walked away from him.
“I don’t need to give into you,” she said. “I have told you before to leave me alone.”
“So you have, and alone you remain,” he said, softly emphasizing the word ‘alone’.
She froze, and he could tell by the way her shoulders tensed that he had hit the right nerve.
“I am content in my loneliness,” she said stiffly. “People are fools. I do not need their company.”
“It is true that they are fools,” he said, moving closer to her. “And you see their foolishness so very well, better than anybody else. How painful it must be for you to live like this, being the only one to see it.”
“The world is heading towards destruction,” she said quietly. “It is, isn’t it? You know it. And I know it. Anybody with sense could see and know it.” Her voice began to rise. “Oh, they want me to fulfill my duties for the monarchy, my petty duties. Monarchy! The monarchy is doomed. After my husband’s reign there will be nobody who can hold the country together. Who knows if even he can, until the end? And even while this wonderful monarchy still exists, it only makes things worse. They are trying to delay the inevitable change, to keep the people from their rights, to keep the world the same rotten place it has been and to hold on to traditions that are long since dead. And they want me to play their game! Stand in their stupid processions and ceremonies with a fake smile fixed on my face. Weigh my head down with their jewels and walk with that harness they call gowns of state. Speak only approved opinions and appreciate the art that I am supposed to appreciate. Forget my own self when I am all that I can rely on. No, I don’t think I will!”
Death placed his hands upon her shoulders. She flinched, but remained in her place. “And because you will not, they think you are mad. They are starting to say it, you know, Elisabeth. They whisper it, they write it in their letters and they say it when they are sure no wrong company is around. I hear them saying it as I cross the shadows of this world.”
“I know they do,” she whispered. “They have said so for long, and now they say it all the more often. Because I do not play their game and because I prefer to pursue the only things that can bring happiness and understanding. How can they say I am detached from reality because I only live in the world of dreams and poetry? Is there reality in anywhere else than dreams anymore?” She laughed mirthlessly.
“Do you see the reality they think is important?” she continued, not resisting when he firmed his grip on her shoulders. “States fight wars or try to start wars if they aren’t fighting any now. People die because they can’t afford food or get persecuted because of who they were born to be. People get thrown into prisons for life or hang by the town square because of what their opinions are or what books they read. And meanwhile here in the court, everyone only cares about whether Countess So-and-So has curtsied quite according to rules or whether all her family tree is surely old and noble enough. Or which actress has an affair with which Duke and whose horse wins the races this Sunday. That, in all its beauty, is the reality I am supposed to descend down to. What sort of a mad person cares about that kind of reality?” She laughed again, throwing her head back.
He took the opportunity to pull her closer and to press his lips upon that exquisite brow. She gasped, but it was not merely terror he heard in it. The air around them grew silent.
He slid his arms around her waist and gently coaxed her to turn to face him. She did it without resisting. With her eyes half closed she watched him, uncertain desire gleaming in her eyes. When he lifted his hand to touch her face, she shivered slightly. But then her mouth twisted to a cynical smile, and she laughed again.
“You think you can make me love you? Love is not made for me, do you not know that? I have learned that long ago.”
Death smiled, stroking her face. “Not the pathetic arrangement of mutual convenience and one-sided pleasure that mortal men call love,” he said. “You are too special for that. You will not be treated like an object and then cast aside, as they would have you. Do you think your husband knows anything of love? He has not the faintest idea of what to do with a creature such as you.”
“And you think that you do?”
He pressed close to her, drawing her body to his and bringing his lips against her temple. He knew that if her husband had done that, she would have pulled away in disgust. Death had seen it often enough. But she did not pull away from him. “I can show you that I do,” he whispered.
He moved his hands on her body carefully, but he grew more confident when she did not immediately break free from his touch. Her warmth beneath his hands - the breath that she held back - all the pride and anguish and crazy desire to break free that she radiated - it was intoxicating to him. He pressed kisses on her hair and face, making her gasp a little with each caress of his lips, but every time he neared her lips, she turned her head. Still so much vitality in her, despite all the misery that was her life. It was fascinating how human beings would hold onto their lives no matter how terrible those loves would become to them. Now that little else bound Elisabeth to her life, she clung to her will. That magnificent, steely will that Death adored as much as he sought to break it so that she would finally be his.
He guided her gently towards the bed that lay on the other side of the room. She stared at him with dazed eyes as she allowed herself to sit down on it, as though she did not know why she let this happen but could not resist. Or perhaps, wanted to see for once what would happen if she did not.
“I love you, Elisabeth,” he whispered as he pressed fervent kisses upon her neck. She sighed with a surprised pleasure that she had not known from the touch of mortal men, and did not resist when his touch explored further.
He was able to make her gasp and cry out, make her yield to a love and a pleasure that she had not admitted into her life and would, if she still lived after this, probably regret with a feverish blush and hatred. He could make her lie down dazed, with a frightened look in her eyes at the passion she had never before admitted into herself, gazing at him with a mixture of desire, love and fear. Tears had started to stream down her face, and when he lay himself down beside her, she grasped his hands with hers and held on compulsively.
But one thing he could not make her yield to. After watching her for a moment, he leant towards her face, meaning to at long, long last claim her lips with his and make their beings melt together, take her truly into his own world. Suddenly she looked at him, with that piercing stare he had seen so often before, and he could see something hardening behind her eyes.
She turned away.
“No,” she said. “I will not die.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
“Your life is fleeting, and most of it is misery. Why hold onto it? You could become mine now. I am the only one who loves you, the only one who understands you.” He paused and touched her shoulder. She moved away from him, sitting up. “The only one who can make you happy.”
She sat still. He could feel her hesitation and hoped she would still give in. But then she straightened her back, held her head up and answered: “I can make myself happy.”
“Not in this world.”
“In my own world, then. I will construct my own worlds of fancies and live in them, and though people may try to call me down from the clouds, they will not succeed. If I can never be rid of my sadness, then I will find happiness in the sadness itself and never let go of it. I shall relish my tears and I shall relish my madness. And you, like everyone else, will see that nobody commands me. Nobody gets me to do what I haven’t chosen to do. I am my own, now and always.”
“But you are mine, too. Now and always.”
“No”, she said, and turned to face him, the hardened look in her eyes. “I have heard you, and I know what you have to say, and I will not have you. Yes, I know what you have to offer, but I will not take happiness from anybody else. Now leave.” There was no mistaking the commanding note in her voice, soft though it was. She meant what she said, and it hurt as much as it had hurt every time before. Perhaps more.
He stared at her for some time, disappointment and pain beginning to well up into anger. His mind already began to think of ways in which he could make her pay for the pain she had inflicted on him, again and again. “You are going to regret this.”
“Perhaps”, she whispered. “But at least I will still be my own.”
“We will see how much comfort that will be for you when I take everything I can away from you.”
“You can try,” she said. “But whatever you take from me, I still have my own will. Besides,” and suddenly she cocked her head with a coquettish smile, “that is why you love me, is it not?”
He stared at her, trying to think of an answer. But the mixture of disappointment, humiliation and bitter hurt overwhelmed him. He did not feel he could stand to stay a moment longer. He could not bear look upon the face of the one woman who had made him give his heart to her - and who now scorned it and laughed at it. She was happy to play with him for a moment but never, never willing to truly be his. He turned angrily and left through the shadows of her room without saying another word. But as he was crossing over back into his own realm, he could hear her laughter, ringing through the empty air of her room.
Author: Valancy
Fandom and characters: Elisabeth (the Kunze/Lévay musical); Elisabeth and Death
Rating: PG-13
Prompt and spoilers: “Insanity-- a perfectly rational adjustment to the insane world.”
--R.D. Laing
Don’t know how applicable the concept of spoilers is to a musical, which is just one piece of work so either you know it or you don’t. Spoils the general idea of the musical, though, without spoiling all of the plot.
Many thanks to clarinetqueen for beta-reading! She did a great job, and any mistakes in English etc. that remain are only my fault. Also, big apologies for how late this is. Life stuff came up and I overestimated my ability to finish a story fast when writing in English, which I usually don’t do.
Notes: Takes place some time during “The Restless Years” part of the musical.
For those who aren’t familiar with the musical: the basic idea is that it tells the life story of the Empress Elisabeth of Austria (also known as Sisi or Sissi) who was an independent-minded but deeply unhappy woman, and in the musical the other main character is Death, who is in love with her. For those who are aware of the musical and wonder which versions I’m basing this on: various European versions, with Death originally being supposed to be based on Szabó P. Szilveszter’s Death but turning out a bit different after all, and Elisabeth being just my own personal Elisabeth who is based on both the historical character and the interpretations of various actresses, especially Pia Douwes, Janza Kata and Maya Hakvoort. Actually, she may be a little crazier than my standard Elisabeth.
***
”Elisabeth.”
The whisper, though barely audible, echoed through the veil between the worlds. The woman sitting by the mirror started. Her eyes, until now fixated on the image in the mirror, began frantically searching around the room.
Death let her search for a while more, remaining hidden in shadows, and watching her. The mortals said - or whispered, for you could not say such things too audibly about the Empress - that she was losing her legendary beauty. To Death’s eyes she was as beautiful as she had always been each time they met. But if that which mortals thought of as her beauty was fading, it was all the better for him. The less she had on this earth, the more likely she would be to finally be his. He had waited long enough while she attempted to live a life that could never be more than a pale shadow of what she needed.
“Elisabeth,” he said again, and stepped out of the shadows into her world. Again he had to admire the way she stared back into his eyes, not flinching at the sight of him, merely looking at him appraisingly, as though weighing her best options. Which, in all likelihood, she was doing.
“You,” she said softly. He could hear emotions held back in her voice, and longed to step closer to her, to hold her and draw those emotions into him. But when he moved closer, she rose from her chair and walked away from him.
“I don’t need to give into you,” she said. “I have told you before to leave me alone.”
“So you have, and alone you remain,” he said, softly emphasizing the word ‘alone’.
She froze, and he could tell by the way her shoulders tensed that he had hit the right nerve.
“I am content in my loneliness,” she said stiffly. “People are fools. I do not need their company.”
“It is true that they are fools,” he said, moving closer to her. “And you see their foolishness so very well, better than anybody else. How painful it must be for you to live like this, being the only one to see it.”
“The world is heading towards destruction,” she said quietly. “It is, isn’t it? You know it. And I know it. Anybody with sense could see and know it.” Her voice began to rise. “Oh, they want me to fulfill my duties for the monarchy, my petty duties. Monarchy! The monarchy is doomed. After my husband’s reign there will be nobody who can hold the country together. Who knows if even he can, until the end? And even while this wonderful monarchy still exists, it only makes things worse. They are trying to delay the inevitable change, to keep the people from their rights, to keep the world the same rotten place it has been and to hold on to traditions that are long since dead. And they want me to play their game! Stand in their stupid processions and ceremonies with a fake smile fixed on my face. Weigh my head down with their jewels and walk with that harness they call gowns of state. Speak only approved opinions and appreciate the art that I am supposed to appreciate. Forget my own self when I am all that I can rely on. No, I don’t think I will!”
Death placed his hands upon her shoulders. She flinched, but remained in her place. “And because you will not, they think you are mad. They are starting to say it, you know, Elisabeth. They whisper it, they write it in their letters and they say it when they are sure no wrong company is around. I hear them saying it as I cross the shadows of this world.”
“I know they do,” she whispered. “They have said so for long, and now they say it all the more often. Because I do not play their game and because I prefer to pursue the only things that can bring happiness and understanding. How can they say I am detached from reality because I only live in the world of dreams and poetry? Is there reality in anywhere else than dreams anymore?” She laughed mirthlessly.
“Do you see the reality they think is important?” she continued, not resisting when he firmed his grip on her shoulders. “States fight wars or try to start wars if they aren’t fighting any now. People die because they can’t afford food or get persecuted because of who they were born to be. People get thrown into prisons for life or hang by the town square because of what their opinions are or what books they read. And meanwhile here in the court, everyone only cares about whether Countess So-and-So has curtsied quite according to rules or whether all her family tree is surely old and noble enough. Or which actress has an affair with which Duke and whose horse wins the races this Sunday. That, in all its beauty, is the reality I am supposed to descend down to. What sort of a mad person cares about that kind of reality?” She laughed again, throwing her head back.
He took the opportunity to pull her closer and to press his lips upon that exquisite brow. She gasped, but it was not merely terror he heard in it. The air around them grew silent.
He slid his arms around her waist and gently coaxed her to turn to face him. She did it without resisting. With her eyes half closed she watched him, uncertain desire gleaming in her eyes. When he lifted his hand to touch her face, she shivered slightly. But then her mouth twisted to a cynical smile, and she laughed again.
“You think you can make me love you? Love is not made for me, do you not know that? I have learned that long ago.”
Death smiled, stroking her face. “Not the pathetic arrangement of mutual convenience and one-sided pleasure that mortal men call love,” he said. “You are too special for that. You will not be treated like an object and then cast aside, as they would have you. Do you think your husband knows anything of love? He has not the faintest idea of what to do with a creature such as you.”
“And you think that you do?”
He pressed close to her, drawing her body to his and bringing his lips against her temple. He knew that if her husband had done that, she would have pulled away in disgust. Death had seen it often enough. But she did not pull away from him. “I can show you that I do,” he whispered.
He moved his hands on her body carefully, but he grew more confident when she did not immediately break free from his touch. Her warmth beneath his hands - the breath that she held back - all the pride and anguish and crazy desire to break free that she radiated - it was intoxicating to him. He pressed kisses on her hair and face, making her gasp a little with each caress of his lips, but every time he neared her lips, she turned her head. Still so much vitality in her, despite all the misery that was her life. It was fascinating how human beings would hold onto their lives no matter how terrible those loves would become to them. Now that little else bound Elisabeth to her life, she clung to her will. That magnificent, steely will that Death adored as much as he sought to break it so that she would finally be his.
He guided her gently towards the bed that lay on the other side of the room. She stared at him with dazed eyes as she allowed herself to sit down on it, as though she did not know why she let this happen but could not resist. Or perhaps, wanted to see for once what would happen if she did not.
“I love you, Elisabeth,” he whispered as he pressed fervent kisses upon her neck. She sighed with a surprised pleasure that she had not known from the touch of mortal men, and did not resist when his touch explored further.
He was able to make her gasp and cry out, make her yield to a love and a pleasure that she had not admitted into her life and would, if she still lived after this, probably regret with a feverish blush and hatred. He could make her lie down dazed, with a frightened look in her eyes at the passion she had never before admitted into herself, gazing at him with a mixture of desire, love and fear. Tears had started to stream down her face, and when he lay himself down beside her, she grasped his hands with hers and held on compulsively.
But one thing he could not make her yield to. After watching her for a moment, he leant towards her face, meaning to at long, long last claim her lips with his and make their beings melt together, take her truly into his own world. Suddenly she looked at him, with that piercing stare he had seen so often before, and he could see something hardening behind her eyes.
She turned away.
“No,” she said. “I will not die.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
“Your life is fleeting, and most of it is misery. Why hold onto it? You could become mine now. I am the only one who loves you, the only one who understands you.” He paused and touched her shoulder. She moved away from him, sitting up. “The only one who can make you happy.”
She sat still. He could feel her hesitation and hoped she would still give in. But then she straightened her back, held her head up and answered: “I can make myself happy.”
“Not in this world.”
“In my own world, then. I will construct my own worlds of fancies and live in them, and though people may try to call me down from the clouds, they will not succeed. If I can never be rid of my sadness, then I will find happiness in the sadness itself and never let go of it. I shall relish my tears and I shall relish my madness. And you, like everyone else, will see that nobody commands me. Nobody gets me to do what I haven’t chosen to do. I am my own, now and always.”
“But you are mine, too. Now and always.”
“No”, she said, and turned to face him, the hardened look in her eyes. “I have heard you, and I know what you have to say, and I will not have you. Yes, I know what you have to offer, but I will not take happiness from anybody else. Now leave.” There was no mistaking the commanding note in her voice, soft though it was. She meant what she said, and it hurt as much as it had hurt every time before. Perhaps more.
He stared at her for some time, disappointment and pain beginning to well up into anger. His mind already began to think of ways in which he could make her pay for the pain she had inflicted on him, again and again. “You are going to regret this.”
“Perhaps”, she whispered. “But at least I will still be my own.”
“We will see how much comfort that will be for you when I take everything I can away from you.”
“You can try,” she said. “But whatever you take from me, I still have my own will. Besides,” and suddenly she cocked her head with a coquettish smile, “that is why you love me, is it not?”
He stared at her, trying to think of an answer. But the mixture of disappointment, humiliation and bitter hurt overwhelmed him. He did not feel he could stand to stay a moment longer. He could not bear look upon the face of the one woman who had made him give his heart to her - and who now scorned it and laughed at it. She was happy to play with him for a moment but never, never willing to truly be his. He turned angrily and left through the shadows of her room without saying another word. But as he was crossing over back into his own realm, he could hear her laughter, ringing through the empty air of her room.