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Rudolf was bored out of his mind. Even a trip to Mayerling didn't deter him from a weird but persistent train of thoughts.
He was found lying in bed, still twirling a short blade between fingers when Tod entered the hunting lodge. Quite a few bloodied birds scattered across the sheets, leaving crimson taints. Rudolf also had a few smears on his cheek, a stark contrast to his deathly pale skin.
Tod hummed in appreciation to the sight greeted Him.
I thought you've stopped making specimen out of such...ordinary feathered preys. In the mood to eviscerate your captives today? Or have you recently developed a passion for bird anatomy?
I thought you were busy having a rendezvous with mother. Let me guess, another outright rejection? Rudolf huffed, not without a hint of sarcasm.
Tod just wore his usual sphix-like smile, neither confirming nor denying the deliberate jab. Plucking a corpse from the bed, Tod examined the poor thing out of morbid curiosity. It smelt strongly of iron, sulfur and gun powder. A bullet had punctured the delicate ribs, leaving a mess inside its chest cavity. Multiple organs were already missing, or rather, removed without precision during the process of mummifying the creature.
Tod tutted, lowering the dove down onto the sheet again.
You have to break more than a few ribs to cut out your own heart, my prince. An awful way to go. Perhaps a vertical incision here, on abdomin, would be a better choice. Intestines aren't sensitive to stabs and punctures. Tugs and twists, however, would result in acute pain.
Rudolf stopped fidgeting with the blade. Pupils delated, he exhaled softly as gloved fingers trailed along his half-buttoned shirt. For a split second, Rudolf shuddered in anticipation.
Do you want mine? He whispered.
Tod straightened smoothly from the overly intimate position, a smirk on face.
It would be creepy if I just keep a collection of organs from my favoured mortals in pickle jars.
As if that would scare your angels off. Must've seen their fair share of gore and innards to be one of yours. Rudolf rolled his eyes playfully, passing the blade to Tod.
It hit the wooden floor with a clatter.
A tempting offer indeed. Pity. You have no intention to leave with me today, my prince. Please kindly refrain from trying to spite Franz Joseph with his successor's mysterious murder.
Right, because our Death Almighty here has His reputation to keep. Rudolf sighed forlornly, staring at the dancing flames across the room.
Tod plastered a still dripping wet towel on his face. Rudolf stayed very still as Tod wiped the smears of dried blood off.
Tomorrow would be another harrowing day. And every day after, until it all ends.
Until it all ends. Tod agreed easily.
And you would be there.
A cold palm covered Rudolf's eyes, then another, stroking his cheek almost lovingly.
Rudolf snuggled closer as Tod began to hum a wordless lullabye.
He sank into a fitful sleep.
When Rudolf woke up with a start, he would notice every wound on his preys had been sewn together. Feathers were rearranged to conceal the stitches, those tiny things were positioned to be perched on branches.
As if they were still alive.
And if one of them indeed went missing, the crowned prince would be none the wiser to recall the subtle difference.