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The man had invaded his dreams again. Franz hadn't seen him yet, but he could feel the man's presence, cold and arrogant, lying in wait just around a corner. Whatever he had been dreaming of vanished as soon as he was aware of it, to be replaced with mist-covered emptiness.
"What do you want!" he called out, his voice old and feeble. He'd meant to shout, but it came out as a hoarse croak.
Laughter, cruel and mocking, answered him. He'd come to recognize it as belonging to the man, even though the tone and pitch sounded different every night.
In the distance, Franz could see a figure, features obscured by the swirling clouds. He took a step towards the figure, then another, arm outstretched to seize the person by the shoulders. When his fingers were only a breath away, the mists parted, and Franz recoiled in horror.
"Papa." Rudolf reached out, hands trembling and covered in blood. The side of the boy's head was stained red, and a chunk was missing from his skull. He looked to Franz with blank eyes. "Papa, why don't you listen to me?"
Even as Franz reached out to the corpse, to pull it to him and apologize, Rudolf's body was pulled back into the mists. "He is mine now."
The man's tone was deadly serious whenever he said this. Whoever he was, he was very possessive of things he perceived of as his. Franz looked around, trying to find his shape in the mists. "Give me back my son!" he tried to shout. Again, his voice came as little more than a feeble thread.
"Mine now," the man echoed. "He always has been mine." The mists parted ahead of Franz, revealing the loathed person. Impossibly beautiful, androgynous, with the darkest eyes Franz had ever seen. The ever-present smirk played across his lips as he pulled Rudolf's body into his embrace. The corpse clutched at him as if he were a life preserver, empty eyes staring adoringly at his beautiful face.
Franz's eyes narrowed at the sight, and he felt bile rise in his throat. He turned away when the man bent down and kissed his son's lips. The laughter echoed again. Franz wished, not for the first time, that he could awaken from nightmares such as this. He'd always heard that the moment one realized one was dreaming, the dream would end. It had never proven true with the land of mists.
Another figure appeared, this one's features obscured completely. He bowed to the cruel man and held out his hand. Franz watched the man drop something long and thin into the outstretched and open palm and felt a shiver run through him. He started forward. "What is that?" he asked. "What are you doing?"
The man turned to him, the smirk playing across his features again. "Ensuring that what else is mine comes to me properly." Beside him, the man mimed driving whatever he was holding into something, almost as if stabbing it.
"Mama won't let me be alone," Rudolf said, and his corpse grinned as best it could with part of its face missing. "Mama will comfort me and hold me close."
Franz shot up from bed, breathing heavily. He clutched the bed sheets with white fingers, and felt a chill as the night air brushed against his sweat-soaked nightshirt. His eyes were wide, staring out the open window but not seeing the stars beyond. He reached for the bell-pull beside his bed and yanked hard several times. Within seconds, a young man was opening the door to his chambers. "Majesty?" he asked, stifling a yawn.
"Where is my wife?" Franz asked the boy. "Where is my Sisi?"
The boy shook his head. "Traveling, sir, as always."
"Where? Where is the empress?"
"Shall I ask one of the chambermaids to find her itinerary in her chambers, Majesty?" the boy asked. He was just blinking himself awake, at last, and regarded Franz with a slightly annoyed look.
The look helped ground Franz back in the present, in reality. It had just been a dream, after all. "It can wait until morning," he said, letting go of the bell-pull. "Go back to your station, then." The boy bowed and slipped out of the room, leaving Franz to collapse back onto the mattress. He did not close his eyes right away.
A dream. That's all he ever thought they were. What if it were something more? Hadn't Sisi had a dream about Rudolf when the boy was young, a dream that most took as some sort of vision of the future? He tried to remember. His old and tired mind would not let him recall. Regardless, there was nothing he could do at the moment. He'd discover his wife's itinerary and arrange to rendezvous with her. She never begrudged him short visits. Just to calm his nerves after that horrible nightmare.