"Why didn't you take me, then? All those years ago?"

He stills, his gaze lingering on her, but his eyes far away, pensive. At last, he draws back slightly and extending his hand, lets his fingers hover over her arm without touching her. "It was not your time."

"But is it my time now, then? Has it been all these years?" she is unable to hide the fear and desperation that take over. Should she be dead?

His hands settle calmingly over her shoulders, heaving with her hyperventilation and the exertion that breathing in a corset causes her. "It is always a choice, Elisabeth. You call me to you, fully conscious of the possible outcome."

"But why don't you just-"force me?

Something flashes behind his eyes. A certain darkness, but not exactly dangerous… Still, she steps back, and he lets his hands fall away. They make a dull sound as they hit his legs, flesh against flesh, so human for someone that is anything but.

"You wish your life to be yours so badly. This is the one choice you can't change afterwards. When you make it, that's it."

"But that's not all, is it? You keep offering it to me because you know I won't do it." Suddenly anger seizes her; this bluff of his, this game. Hasn't she suffered enough?

"Kiss me." She dares him. "I know you won't."

"Don't tempt me, Empress," he spits out her title like dirt, his hands wrapping around her upper arms, pulling her so close, so dangerously close. She can see the rage behind his icy blue eyes, the knowledge that burns. The determination of a hunter always hunting for his prey, the desire. She can count the hairs in his brows, can see the pores on his nose, can feel his breath on her lips. So, so close—

She raises her hand to press it against his cheek, and he closes his eyes, leans his face into it. His hands loosen slightly, still holding her firmly but no longer painful in their grip. His thumbs stroke her shoulders. He looks utterly lonely. It almost breaks her heart.

Elisabeth slowly presses her hand to the back of his head, threads her fingers through his blond locks and guides him to her chest. He wraps his arm around her, like a small child might, and she feels her anger slowly subside. Suddenly, she understands. And she loves him for it, though she will never admit it to him.

"You give me the choice so that I have one," she says, wonder in her voice. "You offer me freedom, but you do not force it upon me. That makes it truly, really, being free."

He pulls back from her, takes her face in his hands. "I want you. But I can wait," he smiles, "what are years to me? In the end, you will come. And even if I kiss you…"

"I have to choose to stay." She realises.

He looks momentarily angry at having said too much, but soon something akin to sadness takes over. "Why would you? They can offer you peace. I can only free your troubled soul from this body and this life you bind yourself to. The rest is up to you."

"I-"

"Shh, Elisabeth." He pulls away from her, leaving her feeling cold, bereft. "You can live still, darling."

She wants to promise him so many things. But she does not know if she will be able to keep them, so she keeps her tongue instead. He nods, as if he understands, and she knows he does, better than anyone ever could. Old souls, the both of them, kindred and dark and hard and bitter, but not lost.

He turns to leave and she calls out before she can stop herself: "Will you come? When I call you?"

"Always," he answers. "You know that."

She smiles, and he, wonderfully, smiles back. Still a bit taunting, but lovely and meant.

When she blinks, he is gone, but she no longer feels so alone. For a moment, a vision crosses her mind: of angels and music and oblivion. But then she sees a black seagull soar over the sea, so utterly free and she knows.

A/N:

My interpretation is a bit mythological: Elisabeth can choose to stay in Death's Kingdom (Hades, if you will) or go up into Heaven, where she will be granted total peace by total oblivion and will be happy until a possible reincarnation. I don't really know. This is of course, a very pasive Death/Elisabeth and nothing like their dark dance of seduction and his effortless power and dominance in their endless game. But love and affection, if that is what Death claims, have such moments, and even if Death does not know how to love (as is presumed) I would hate a relationship where Sisi always has too fight. Let her have her peace, and if not peace, her freedom. Death keeps offering it to her, let it be real.

(It kills me that Sisi had to be so unhappy, I loved her so, as a little girl. The fairy tale of a princess who stayed true to herself and found love. I had a casette I played over and over, but recently I listened to it again and it ends with the wedding, not with 'They lived happily ever after', because she did not. At all. This was written for her anniversary (she was born a 24 of December).)