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Thunder echoed through the room. The moon cast its pale light onto Rudolf, who was curling into himself on an absurdly huge and equally uncomfortable bed. The young boy fidgeted, trying to make sense of his thoughts clouded with fever.
“I miss you.” He whispered, his eyes searching for an answer in the shadows of the room.
Death emerged from the shadow of the room, taking the appearance of a man in a black coat. He offered no greeting – just as if he had been in the room all along. "Have you decided not to call your mama anymore?"
The boy's small frame stiffened at the voice. His lips formed into a pout, and he cast his gaze downward.
"Grandma won’t let me visit her," the words spilled out, his brows furrowed in frustration. "And even when I do, Mama never listens to me!"
"The crown prince cannot be a mama's boy." The man stepped closer, his movements fluid and soundlessly graceful. "And he must fear nothing. But you're afraid of merely being alone in the dark."
"Perhaps sometimes," the boy admitted reluctantly, his voice barely above a whisper. He stood up, rising up to full height—what little there was of it—and puffed out his chest. "But I can be strong and brave whenever I need to be!"
The shadowed figure chuckled, a short, humorless sound. "Of course," he said, fixing his pale gaze on the boy. "But do you want to be powerful and cold when you have to be?"
Rudolf faltered and he sank back down onto the bed, his small hands fidgeting in his lap. "No. I’d rather be soft," he said quietly, looking up at Death. "Maybe when I grow up, the world will be softer too. Less mean. Maybe Mama will feel better then."
"It could be you who makes the world better," the man said, his voice quieter. He moved closer, sitting beside the boy. "Although it'll never be you who makes her feel better." He added.
"Why not? I can do both. I’ve been doing well at all my lessons, and I’ll work even harder! I’m capable of it.” He replied sharply, looking up at Death.
"But it will never be enough—especially if you're with me."
The boy frowned, pushing Death away before he quickly regretted it. He tugged anxiously at the man's sleeve and held on, making sure that Death didn’t disappear again. "I mean, I don’t understand… Does mother not like you?"
"Nonsense!" said the man firmly, almost simultaneously with the question. "Your mother loves me more than anyone in this world."
"Well, she’s my mama! Not yours." Rudolf’s voice was fierce now, a spark of anger flaring up in his small frame. How dare he suggest that?
"You should know that the matters of the heart are completely different from what your tutors have taught you," Death said dryly. His arm remained completely still and unyielding, even as the boy tugged at his sleeve until his tiny knuckles turned pale.
"You’re lying. She loves me more." But the childish certainty in his tone faltered. Could he be telling the truth? "And you didn’t answer me. Why did you say that I’d never be good enough if I were with you? I thought we were friends. Best friends."
The man’s smile lingered, but his gaze grew distant as though he was peering into something far beyond the boy's understanding.
"You can be a good boy with me," he answered slowly, "but you must understand that that won't be enough for her to love you more. And you’re fated to gradually disconnect from others—perhaps even your own mother—once you choose to keep me close."
"But – but still, I wish you’d stay by my side," the boy answered immediately. "I have no one else. These stupid protocols never let me play with others, let alone Gisela or even Mama." He rambled on, his voice cracking. "You must promise me to be my best friend forever."
"I’ll be your closest friend whenever the world is unfair to you," he said plainly. Rudolf relaxed at his response, and he pulled him closer. Death glided to the boy's side and put his arms around his little shoulders. "But remember this: Do not care what others say about your imaginary friend, just as you do not care what they say about your mama."
"I will." The boy instantly promised but hesitated for a moment before wrapping his small arms around the figure in a tentative hug. Death returned the boy’s embrace, his touch cool against the child’s fevered skin.
"Good boy. As long as you want me around, you can rest in my arms.”
The tension drained from Rudolf’s small frame as he leaned into the shadow's embrace. With a soft sigh, he took the man’s cold hand and pressed it against his burning brow.
"Sometimes I wish you were my real father, not a friend. That would make Mama happy," the boy said in a rather relaxed tone.
"I think you would be happier than your mama if I were to be your father."
"Maybe… That would mean that I wouldn’t have to be a crown prince anymore. No more stupid tutors and boring lessons! Seriously, can’t you just hide him away and become my real father?"
"That won’t work. You can’t solve a problem by simply hiding it," the man replied, his tone patient, almost gentle. He placed his hand over the boy’s eyes, blocking out the dim light of the room. "You’ll only be lying to yourself, pretending that it’s disappeared.”
"You need to tell Mama that.” Rudolf snorted. “Father said that she hides day and night from everything—even me."
"You dream in vain. There's nothing you can do without her wanting to fully acknowledge it. That is her way of finding comfort, hiding from everything that bothers her."
Death slowly withdrew the hand that had blinded the boy. He unveiled the world only to fill it entirely with his own gaze. "It can be your way, too, only if you choose. I willingly welcome you."
"To hide with you… like Mama… going somewhere, forever, far from the palace? What's that really like?"
"It’s like…" He paused, searching for the right words. "…to become the cat you killed. The one that you loved so much but now buried in the ground."
"The ground—it’s cool and soft and comforting, like you. It’ll be like sleeping without nightmares, and we can play forever."
"Just remember this: you will never be able to meet the cat again."
"Never again?"
"Never, for the little one belongs to me."
Rudolf frowned in confusion. "But I… I miss it. Thinking about it makes me want to cry."
"The cat influenced you so; you may influence others in the same way—including your mama."
"I don’t want to make her sad like me… I want—" The boy paused with a sniffle, glancing at the man before putting a pillow over his face so that it hid his tears. "No, I don’t think she cares about me as I did for the cat!"
Without saying anything, the man softly removed the pillow, wiping away the child's tears with his thumb.
The child continued in a choked voice. "I want to go underground if it would mean that Mama would notice me. But it sounds too scary by myself."
"I don’t understand." The man’s voice was a murmur, his pale gaze unwavering. "You end up alone in the end. Everyone does. What’s the point of being noticed then? Why do humans want to be remembered?"
"I don’t know." Rudolf’s eyes fluttered shut, his strength waning as the fever sapped what little energy he had left. "I think it’s because being noticed and remembered means that you’re a hero. And you’re no different. You want Mama to notice you too."
"Who wouldn't?" The man's tone was casual, but there was something in his voice that made Rudolf begin to feel uneasy about a possibility.
"But, but listen, you must promise me this. This is an order—you’re not allowed to take her away before me."
"All I can say is that it's not me who decides the order." Death took the child's outstretched hand and laid it down onto the pillow. "I can't promise anything, no matter how much she—or you—might yearn for it."
"No, you know I’ll be the Kaiser one day and since you’re my best friend, I’ll make sure that you get to control the orders when I grow up." The boy timidly grabbed the man’s hand and wrapped their fingers together for a promise before he could pull away. "There. Now you’re not allowed to break the promise."
Death only gave a cynical smile. "You don’t need to do this, my dear. I do want her, but I don't yearn for her like you do."
"What do you mean?" The boy asked in a weak voice, his mind hazy from the high fever.
"I know I will win in the end. And just like I’ll do with your mother—whether you become a ruler or a hero—I will win over you."
Drawn by the boy’s hand on his sleeves, he grabbed the boy’s wrist. "You may not feel sorry about it, though." The man paused as he noticed the child was starting to lose consciousness. "After all, I am bound to be here and remember you for over a hundred years."
"More than a hundred years? That’s silly… but I like that," the small one giggled weakly, having a hard time processing what was going on with both the fever and fatigue clouding his mind. The young boy’s breathing slowed down as he inched closer to unconsciousness.
As the line between dream and reality faded, so did the man.