Chapter Text
1889
Mayerling begins with the first shot in the dark of the night, Mary's life abruptly ended in a shower of blood. Rudolf stands and stares and tries not to scream. He has killed before, and has seen people die, but the smashed reality right in front of him is sobering. He still harbours thoughts towards dying, but the desire has noticeably cooled for the moment. Rudolf knows it's a terrible thing he's done, but he can't turn back time. Mary is dead despite his best intentions, and he alone will be held responsible.
He has just finished speaking to Loschek when he feels a cold caress at the back of his neck. Rudolf shivers before he turns to look into his friend's face. Tod is, as always, calm and aloof, but his gaze is sharp this time, almost predatory. "Have you come for Mary?" Rudolf says dully. The and me too? goes unasked, Tod has tempted him multiple times with little result, and in truth he is tired.
"One of my angels has already sent her on her way," Tod says softly. "But I am here for you."
He feels like sobbing. "Don't be cruel, friend. Please leave if you won't take me."
"I did not say I would not. But you should not be so eager to be mine," Tod tells him. He is much closer than usual, one hand on his shoulder. The cold seeps through the wool of his coat, makes his head hurt. Still, he struggles to understand what his friend is telling him.
"I...Friend, please stop with your riddles. I have always been yours. Ever since I was young, I was yours. Please let me stay with you. Please stop leaving me."
"You do not know what you ask for."
Rudolf lunges forward, puts his arms around Death. "I am yours," he repeats himself. "Forever and always."
The gun is in his hand. Tod's face is very close, but he feels Tod's hand guide the gun to his forehead. It presses coldly against his temple, but he does not feel afraid. "Very well," Tod says with satisfaction and triumph, and kisses him. He gasps and his finger presses down hard on the trigger.
The next thing he knows, he is standing by the crumpled shell of his body, the blood spreading in a gory pool. Tod's arm is folded across his chest to help hold him up. He distantly registers the new feathers on one arm, all his senses suddenly alight with the clarion calls of the dead.
"What have I done?" Rudolf says faintly. "What have I become?"
"Mine," Tod breathes in his ear. "As you have always wanted."
1895
Eduard Taaffe had never considered himself to be a particularly good man in the eyes of God, but he believed he had stay fairly true to his own morals and had served his country to the best of his abilities. To that end he was satisfied with what he had accomplished with his 62 years, and when his heart started failing him he took it as a sign to settle the last of his affairs, penning final letters and instructions. One particularly inconvenient matter is the metal box full of the secrets of the Mayerling incident, and it is this annoying object he is contemplating when he notices a shadow at the corner of his eye.
"Who's there?" he asks. He has no more political enemies, at least, none that he can think of after they forced him to retire. The world has invariably moved on, but perhaps he still has more of an impact than he had thought.
"Eduard Taaffe," the shadow says, and he turns, and feels his heart flare with shock and pain. The face of the dead crown prince looks at him, almost expressionless were it not for the hard stare in those eyes. "Crown Prince Rudolf," Taaffe breathes. "Is this a nightmare? Or am I dying?"
"The latter," the spectre says with a smile. Taaffe can't tell if it's being mocking. He feels annoyed, despite the sudden weakness in his limbs. His heart beats wildly, erratically. "Could you change your face at least? Grant a dying man his last wish."
The smile drops off, and inexplicably, the spectre's angry expression softens. The resemblance to the Crown Prince grows stronger. Taaffe suspects he's seeing a restless ghost in search of answers before he dies. The spectre's eyes turn towards the metal box on the table, and then it asks, "Will the public ever find out about the truth behind Mayerling?"
"No," Taaffe answers. Blood pounds in his ears, the pain steadily increasing. The spectre speaks the truth then. He really is dying. "Never.
"It was never personal," he tells the other. "I was doing it for the sake of our empire. Surely you understand."
"For God and Kaiser," the spectre murmurs. It looks unspeakably sad. Taaffe rises from his seat, the pain in his heart becoming unbearable. He stumbles slowly to his bed, collapsing onto it with a groan. He doesn't even have the strength to turn and lie on his back. "Will you grant me peace?" he asks, turning his face to look at the spectre, "or will you condemn me?"
Rudolf, if that is truly his spirit, walks towards him. His hand is cool when it rests on Taaffe's opened loose palm, and his face holds no hatred or resentment. He looks like a true angel of death. "It is time to go," Rudolf says, and Taaffe closes his eyes for the last time.
1898
He knows, without a doubt, that his mother is dying. The pull of family feels different, almost visceral, a vicious tug that brings him to the harbour. He is not alone, Tod is also there, but his longtime friend does not notice him. Tod's eyes are on Elisabeth, the same hungry gleam that Rudolf remembers on the morning of his own death. Angels flock around the area, eager to see the culmination of their master's long-sought-after love. Rudolf tries not to dwell on how his own relationship pales in comparison.
"My Elisabeth," Tod almost sings, his arms stretched out invitingly. Rudolf watches as his mother's glowing soul rises from her prone body, all bright and splendid like a fairytale. She is as beautiful as he remembers, and his heart aches for her. He wishes he could speak with her, but surely Tod would convince her to stay with him. They would have time, Rudolf tells himself.
It will be so nice , he thinks wistfully, as Tod draws Elisabeth close, tenderly touching her cheek, whispering to her. To have time to talk. To finally know each other .
Tod kisses his mother, sweetly, longingly. Rudolf holds his breath when the watching todesengels all suddenly burst into flight, like startled birds. Confusion fills him, and then he sees it, the glow of Elisabeth's soul fading into a pale outline in Tod's arms.
"No!" he shouts. Tod curls his empty arms around himself, head bowed as though still seeking the last remnants. "No! You can't do this! You can't leave me again! Not like this!"
She had not looked in his direction, not even once. Rudolf screams in pain and grief, and, just like his fellow angels before him, takes to the sky.