Author's Note: This is going to be a challenge, but bear with me here, okay? Elisabeth has been crowned Queen of Hungary, thus sparking the song "Wenn Ich Tanzen Will." This is my own take on the scene, more of a battle of wits between her and Death, which is what the song basically is; none of this touch-and-feel shit in other versions. But there will be touch and feely stuff afterward! So, do enjoy! (Like usual, the applied Elisabeth and Death actors are Pia Douwes & Uwe Kroeger.)
The Treacherous Waltz - Die verräterische Waltz
At last, a triumph, one of which to call my own! Queen of Hungary, Princess of Austria! They mocked me for my support of the Hungarians. But what will they say now? They will say nothing!
She couldn't help but smile at her reflection. The naïve child that people believed would never become a princess had become a queen! What more was there to say? The gull has flown…
She was alone in her private room, still dressed in her coronation gown. The blue and white, which was complementing her tiny waist and her brown hair was elegantly placed with care (and much dedication). The crown was gone, but the memory of it on her head remained. It would not be forgotten any time soon.
Frowning at her reflection now, she turned away. It was then she realized that she was not alone, for sitting in the chair directly across from her, the darkness seemed to gather at his very being…Him. She collected herself quickly, drawing herself up to her full height and raising her head high, looking down upon him with an imperious gaze. He would not get the best of her this time, especially during her great triumph.
He clapped his hands, mockingly, his long slender hands sounding sharply through the room. Each clap seeming to equal that of a bell tolling. She tried not to wince, for he was watching her, as a hunter would its prey. Icy blue eyes, always staring into her soul, knowing almost any secret and any dream -- nothing was hidden from him. He knew all.
When he had finished, a finger slid under his pale chin, stroking it lightly. A lock of blonde hair was disturbed and fell over one of his eyes.
"The title does not change you," he said simply, his voice hardly above a whisper but laced with the clear distinction of making an effective mark of her ego. He paused for a moment, considering her. "Nor do the clothes. But, the reflection, the face holds age…"
"I did not call for you," she said, brushing aside his remark. "An obedient dog you are, Death."
His eyes flared for a moment, but he smirked and his hand fell to the arm of the chair, drumming his fingers lightly. "I merely came to congratulate you on your triumph, Elisabeth."
She nodded, placing her hands at her skirt and lifting it. "Yes, a glorious triumph, is it not?" As she walked away, she clearly heard him raise his voice and distinctly say:
"Or should I say mine?"
Turning, she looked upon him, her eyes now narrowed. "Yours?" The response was a demand, not understanding what he meant.
He was amused; she could see that in his eyes. Casually he brushed a hand through the air, his eyes leaving hers and staring at his reflection in her mirror. "Of course, my triumph…"
She strode back to him, but before she reached him he stood. He was taller than her by a mere inch. She said nothing for a moment as he looked down at her, waiting for an answer. She took a step back, nodding.
"Oh yes, you believe that everything I do is linked to you Any triumph of mine is a triumph of yours."
He nodded once. Taking her time to smirk, she turned, striding from him.
"If you were a real person, you could not accomplish the feat that I performed."
"Once again, Elisabeth, it was my feat as well. Every move, every thought is linked one way or another to me. You already answered that yourself. Yet," he said softly, "there is one thing that differs. Our emotions towards this evening…"
"Indeed. I have overcome my enemies, the people who were against me from the beginning of my position as Princess. And you?"
"You have altered the world in my favor. We are not much different than I had originally thought." He approached her from behind, a cold draft that slid up her back and rested upon her shoulders. His fingers, long and white, were playing with the fabric on her shoulders, tracing the lace. "When you said that you saw yourself in me, I failed to see it. But now, now Elisabeth…you have millions of lives to play with, to sacrifice to your every whim."
"Death is not something I am proud of," she said fiercely, turning on him, his hand remaining in the air.
"But it is unavoidable, and … it's approaching," he said, lowering his hand. His eyes held a deep longing, dark as the very realm in which he resided. "Soon, very soon…" He strode past her, and as she reached out to stop him, his hand shot out and grasped hers in an icy cold grip. He looked down at her by a side-glance.
"Why put up with their games, their ridicule, Elisabeth? You are far, far too great for the likes of them." He turned, his hand sliding from her wrist to brush icily against the back of her gloved hand. "Yet, you continue to tolerate it."
"What do you mean?" she asked, ripping away her hand and taking a step back. "I stand for nothing, except for my own wants and desires. I am not their puppet, nor will I be yours!"
His eyes widened, stunned by her sharp retort. "And what will you do now? Nothing!"
"I will choose what I will do when the time comes," she said, turning to get away from him. "Now, hear this, Death. End this constant dance with me."
"Never", he growled. His fierceness made her shudder slightly. Suddenly, the room seemed to change, the walls stretching and expanding. They were no longer in her chambers but in a ballroom. Dozens of mirrors, each of them reflecting her terrified state and Him…for he saw all.
She tried to move, but her limbs were locked in place and a strong tingling sensation engulfed her. She could feel he was near.
"If you so believe this to be a dance, then let us dance." He stepped in front of her, offering her his hand. The look in his eyes showed danger, but she could not refuse it, and her hand was placed into his own. Music began to play, a familiar tune she knew so well. She glowered at him, but his face was quite blank and unreadable.
"I do not see how my wedding music is appropriate," she said haughtily. He laughed.
"What does it matter," he whispered. "If anything, you should be terrified of being in my arms. Everyone has danced with me, but not the living…and certainly did I not think it would be you."
She was a horrible dancer, for she remembered when she had spent the first evening at Bald Ischl, she was given the chance to dance with the Kaiser. Her steps were all over the place, but she seemed to find a beat or a step that suited her and she continued on with it. Here, dancing with Death, it was different. She seemed to glide across the dance floor with ease.
They were silent, each conveying the same emotion: curiosity.
"And where are we?" she asked. He seemed to feign a thought.
"Someplace between heaven, hell, and earth," he replied. He released one hand allowing her to twirl, and she did. He then took her hand back into his when she had finished twirling and led her across the floor in a slower tempo. She then gazed down and nearly shrieked when she saw the people clawing at the floor below her.
He looked down, a slight frown marring his handsome features. "I merely forgot…they are not happy with you, Elisabeth."
"Me?" she asked, her eyes not leaving the sight of dozens of souls, hundreds even, underneath the glass floor. Their faces conveyed darkness and pain, and their fingers pressed at the glass, clawing at it.
"Yes, you, and they are quite jealous, too. They wonder why I waste my time with you, allow you to use me like so."
She was silent, and they were no longer dancing. Elisabeth clenched her fists, her jaw locked tight.
"I am linked to many symbols, but my favorite is the raven. And you, the seagull!" Once again, he grabbed her hands and started to lead her into another dance. "Why don't you let me guide you? The storms that follow, the unclear skies will be quite easy to glide through. I will be at your side."
"I fly alone; your chivalry is not needed."
"Chivalry? You speak of chivalry to me? When have I ever used chivalry?"
"When I was a child," she said, her eyes lowering for a moment. She spoke softly, recalling memories from her past. "You carried me into my room, and you stayed beside me, taking care of me. I believed that to be chivalry."
Silently he agreed with her. With a gentle tug, he pulled her closer together in their dance. The feeling of her warm body against his was comforting, soothing even. He was more surprised when she rested her cheek on his velvet-clad shoulder. Obediently, a hand rose to touch the back of her head, gliding through her hair.
His mind was battling with his heart once more. Every meaning of his life rested on her giving in to him. But he knew that was impossible. She would never take that risk, she would never desire him. He closed his eyes to that, and turned his head. Opening his eyes, he rested his hand firmly on the back of her head.
Her eyes opened, and she spun away from him. His hand loosely trailed down to his side, his fingertip and thumb rubbing against one another nervously.
"I have danced with you," she said, "now, let me go."
"Let you go?" he echoed. Then he threw his head back and laughed. If he could cry, tears of mirth would be trickling down his face. "Elisabeth, when were you ever my captive? If anything, you hold your own chains. Your life is your slaveholder!"
"I am free now," she said triumphantly. Spreading her arms out wide, she twirled around mockingly. "I am free, my life is my own!"
"Do you think that?" He rejoined her and now stood directly in back of her. His hands grabbed her wrists and shackled them in the air. "Oh Elisabeth," he breathed, "you have so much to learn and such little time. But here, time means nothing. For the moment, however…"
His long hands pulled her own to her chest, brushing across the swell of her breasts. His fingers crested over the swell of an erect nipple and she moaned. His eyes widened and he did the same to the other breast. His hands made hers drop lower so that they rested on the very top of her silk skirt. Her back pressed into his chest, and his hands made her press down upon the very spot where her tension was building.
"Do you see how well you give in? I am controlling you even now! You are allowing me to!" He was enjoying every bit of this torture. Yet, something came to him. "You once loved me, Elisabeth. You told your Dark Knight that nobody understands you, and yet I do. I understand you right now. You are unfulfilled, unsatisfied, and craving my touch more than anything."
Her hands knitted in her skirt, her head rolling onto his shoulder. She closed her eyes, not knowing what to say, other than to continue breathing. His hands had slowly left her own and trailed back up her abdomen and to her breasts, cupping them and weighing them. His fingers slid over her nipples, circling them slowly.
Her hand reached behind her and took hold of his erection, which was pressed firmly into her back. She heard him hiss, and he spun her around, her body colliding into his once more. He wasted not a moment and his hand dropped to her skirts, undoing the clasp that held the fabric together.
"Wait," she breathed, "God, wait…"
He raised an eyebrow, yet paused in his assault. "God waits for no man or woman… I am no God."
His mouth went immediately to her neck, nipping at her skin with his cold kisses. She wrapped her gloved hands around his head, holding onto him as his cold touch drifted over her body. She moaned again, completely undone.
He could not wait. He picked her up, carrying her across the dance floor, but it had changed into her bedroom. He placed her gently on the ground. Her eyes roamed her room, remembering…
"We were here once before," she murmured.
"Indeed, we were," he said softly, turning her around and tackling the buttons on her long gown. When he had finished, he pushed the silk aside and groaned when he saw that underneath was more fabric. "But, this time, this is a celebration for both of us…" Slipping the dress down her hips, she stepped out of the fabric quickly. Turning around, she pressed her body against his.
There was a knock at her door. He looked over his shoulder and then turned back to her. His eyes narrowed and he continued to undo her chemise and drawers with haste.
"Who is it?" She was sure her voice sounded forced and warbled.
"Mama, can I come in?"
Rudolf! Oh god, how had she forgotten about him, though her seducer gave her a simple glare before ridding her of her clothes and discarding them carelessly on the ground.
"Please, come back at another time. I cannot be disturbed," she said, pressing her lips to the exposed skin at his neck. She started pulling at the velvet fabric of his coat, yanking it down his arms. Letting go of her, he pulled his arms free of the fabric and pushed her body against the large bed. Her fingers went to undoing his waistcoat, and when he had helped her remove that, his hand went to her back. Lowering her onto the bed, his hand drifted along the swell of her ass and down the back of her leg.
As he touched her, he felt a bit of sympathy for the child. He was not blind to the fact that Elisabeth had begun to neglect him in order to focus on getting what she wanted in life. Rudolf was just a trinket to her, not a person. She struggled to have him as her own and when she finally had his life in her hand, she brushed it aside. The act reminded him far too much of himself. Proving yet another point of how they were so similar.
Elisabeth could not help but enjoy his touch. It was unlike her husband's, and it would never compare. He knew what parts of her body lay dormant, and which parts had never felt quite the same after their last encounter.
Her hands slid underneath his shirt, exposing his skin more to her eyes. She raked her hands down his chest, her fingertips brushing against his trouser band. He caught her hand before it slipped beneath the fabric, flipping it over so that it exposed her wrist. His lips then went to the palm of her hand, kissing her, and then slowly trailed up her wrist and her arm.
Elisabeth pressed her hand against his cheek, and she saw him close his eyes. When he opened them, he was staring directly at her. The look in his eyes frightened her, and at the same time, it excited her.
He leaned over her, his knee falling between her legs. He set his hands to her naked breasts, rolling his thumbs over her nipples. Elisabeth clutched the sheets and placed her hand on his crotch.
"Do you need me, Elisabeth?" he hissed, setting his lips near her ear. "Do you understand how much I need you? This is not a game; this is something much more than that." He drifted his cold lips down her neck and over her breasts. "This is our dance, my angel, the only one we will ever share."
Elisabeth could not reply for his teeth raked her nipple. Her back arched, and he had to chuckle at that. Quite the bird…
What had surprised him, however, was how quickly she was able to collect herself after he left her breast. She flipped him onto his back and pinned him against the sheets.
"Very well," he murmured, "the floor is by all means yours…"
She wasted no time, sliding her hands down his chest and over his trousers. Undoing the button, she slid the fabric down his legs and her lips set to his chest. She frowned when she realized he had not taken his boots off. Her hands left the fabric and curled around the heel of his boot. He smirked at her, enjoying her frustration. She tore one boot off and then the other, then slid the pants down his legs and discarded them on the floor.
His skin was exactly how she remembered it, pale, like the moon. She raked her nails up his lean thighs and to his member. When her hands closed around it, she looked up to see his reaction. He was no longer smirking, but gritting his teeth. His eyes were dangerously dark blue now, and his right hand gripped the sheet, twisting it tightly. His other hand gripped the back of the headboard.
She moved her hand in a slow rhythm, watching his eyes grow darker by the minute. But she knew him well. He would never show his true emotions. Though, since this was the second time, she had hoped he would allow her to see that.
"I am strong enough on my own," she said quietly, "as you can tell…"
"You are only strong, Elisabeth, when those beside you think you to be weak," he said darkly. Her fingertip pressed against the blunt, swollen head of his member.
"I will not call for you again," she said quietly, parting the small folds. He stiffened underneath her touch, and in an instant she was thrown back against the sheets, her head almost falling off the end of the bed. His hand was at her hip while the other shackled her hand responsible for giving him pleasure.
"You will call for me," he said, "because you cannot live without me." He spread her thighs wide and slid his hand between her legs and to her womanhood. His fingers skittered through her patch of curls to find her skin flushed and tense. He then pressed a finger to her, which caused her hips to buck instantly. She was wet and slick, and waiting for him.
"I will continue to live my life," she breathed, "and live it to the fullest. Even if it means avoiding you in the process…"
"You will hate it," he said slowly, setting his member to her entrance, "and I will make sure of it because I love you Elisabeth, and I will be dammed to live eternity without you."
He thrust into her, burying his face into her neck and kissing her at her shoulder. Her hands went around his back, holding her close to him.
She was shocked when it came to his last words. He loves me…? Between throws of complete and utter bliss and mind numbing sensations, she couldn't fathom why he loved her. It surprised her that he was so determined to have her. She wanted to ask him that, she wanted to scream it out. But the words fell silent on her lips and she closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of his smooth skin rubbing roughly against hers.
He was sure that she was trying to comprehend his words. He wanted nothing more than to end her life, give her the death kiss she so craved for, danced around for and dreamt of. But, he could not. He wanted her to fall in love with him, not the fascination of death, but him. He controlled death, but he wanted nothing more than to be the person, the love that she desired. The love her husband could not give her.
His hand brushed her cheek, pulling aside her long brown tendrils. His lips ached to touch hers, to be a part of her forever. But instead, they landed just on her cheek, and drifting to almost the corner of her lips. Her eyes widened, and she tried to pull away. He cupped her face in his hands, staring at her intently.
She followed this dance with more dexterity and passion, her hips rising to meet his. His hands left her face and slid down her body to her breasts. Finding her nipples, he rolled them hard with his thumbs. She closed her eyes and she began to writhe and struggle upon the silk doublet, her fingers clawing at his back. He knew she was nearing completion, and he had no idea how long he could last. But it was a surprise that this time was longer than the first. So, with one last thrust, he filled her completely and came to his completion.
Elisabeth moaned, her fingers coming to rest at his shoulder blades. His lips rested by her neck, and kissed her there. Her heart was racing beneath him, and if he had a heart, he was sure it would be racing as well.
He could not take his eyes away from her. No matter how much he tried, her lips were too inviting. Without hesitation, once more, he lowered his lips to hers. But before they could touch, she yanked her head away from his and turned away. With a frustrated growl, he rolled off of her and onto the bed.
"You continue to remain the same!"
"As do you, Death," she whispered, "still wanting what you cannot have."
He glared at her for a moment, before raking a hand through his blonde hair. Elisabeth continued to gaze at him with apprehension and awe. They had just made love, again, much more powerful than last time, but still confused all the same. He wanted to kiss her each time and she had denied his lips a chance at her own. Rolling onto her stomach, she took a hand to his cheek, stroking his face.
"Yet," she murmured, "I do not deny I love you."
His eyes widened and immediately sought hers out before she lowered them. His hand grasped hers, stroking it gently. He continued to stare at her, a loss for words.
"Then, leave with me, Elisabeth. End my suffering, my loneliness…" he entreated, pulling her body so it lay over his. "And end yours. By doing this we both will be giving each other what we want."
Elisabeth raised her head to focus on his blue eyes which seemed to change to a darker shade as he looked over her body lustfully. Instead she laid her head down on the mattress, and pulled the covers up over their bodies.
"Stay with me," she murmured, "please?"
He was quiet. Why should he? She had just denied him – again! Oh, she was a foolish child, a woman but still a child in many ways. He had half a mind to leave here, want her to protest and cry for him. But he remained riveted to the bed, still pondering her request.
"I asked you once before to stay with me," she said quietly, her eyes drooping, "please… stay with me…" Her voice was growing softer and her body even more still. His eyes drew away from her, knowing well enough that she was soon to be asleep. And how history was repeating itself once more – her tempting body, her tempting beauty, and her defenses weakened.
He could do it now, he could kiss her and it would kill her instantly. Then together they would wander through the darkness as the lovers that they were meant to be. He pulled a hand from her body and to her cheek, brushing a tendril aside from her face.
He got up from the bed, and with a wave of his hand he had redressed himself. Looking down at her body, he opened his hand repeatedly at his side and closing it into a fist. But the more he lingered, the more he wanted to do the deed that he had wanted to do since the moment they had first met. He left the room in anger and bewilderment.
And his rage followed him down the hall of the majestic palace, until passing a doorway he could hear the sound of someone crying. Stopping, he easily passed through the wall and upon entering, he found himself in a dark room. The room was covered with small toys and discarded pieces of paper. He eased his way through the mess carefully, and looked the window where the only light shone. And there upon the bed, in the dark, sat the crown prince himself. His hands drawn around his knees and his head lowered.
"Mama," he murmured, tears coming between his words, "where are you?"
Author's Note: Though it would be best to leave here. Anyway, that's how I see the scene officially ending in the musical. Because you have him stalking around with the beginning chords of Wenn Ich Tanzen and then it gets slower, and the room changes into Rudolf's room. So, I decided we should stop here.
Hope you are all enjoying these! I know I am! Comments and reviews are lovely. The more I get the more of these you will see. I do not grow tired from writing them!