The Tale of King Klaus IV

King Klaus IV could not contain his worry as he paced up and down the stone-lined hallway; his mind riddled with thoughts of possible complications that might arise during his wife’s delivery. Visions of her cold, lifeless body haunted his mind; her stomach sliced open, fresh blood dripping from the open incision in her stomach into the sheets and onto the ground.

As much as he hated himself for it, he found solace in her screams. He thought of each one as an indication that her lungs were still taking in air, her heart still pumping blood; each one telling him that she was still alive. 

He tried to push the thought of her death from his mind. 

He instead made an attempt to focus on pleasant memories. His mind drifted back to the first time he laid eyes on his beloved. It had been almost fifteen years since that rainy September afternoon, in the autumn of his thirteenth year.

-

Young Prince Klaus, sat with his father in their carriage, as they made their way back to the castle. They had planned to leave to their own country, Latveria, to visit another, but the trip had to be cancelled due to the weather. 

The young Prince stared out of an opening in the carriage and watched the downpour. In the background he could hear his father rambling on about the responsibilities he would one day inherit when he became King. He only half listened, choosing to give the majority of his attention to his view of the city. 

He admired the wet city streets; the way the usual light-grey, stone buildings turned dark as the rain coated them in water, the smell of the wet ground as it soaked in the downpour, the sound of raindrops as they bounced off the top of the carriage and rolled down the sides. He found it all so beautiful.

But on this day, the rain also brought with it a different kind of beauty. As he enjoyed the view of the city he would one claim as his own he saw her; a young girl who seemed no more than a year his junior. Upon laying eyes on her he could feel his entire reality shift. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. 

As he stood in the hallway of his castle, Klaus recalled that very first image of her. She was dancing in the rain. She wore an olive green dress that stopped just above her knees. The top half clung to her wet, caramel skin, as the bottom half swayed around her waist as she spun around barefoot. Her dark, curly hair stopped just beneath her ears. 

He could tell that she wasn’t from Latveria, at least not originally. If the caramel skin and curly hair weren’t enough, he became sure of it when he caught a glimpse of her green eyes. She was a girl of Romani decent, a wanderer of the world. 

She stared at him curiously. Her green eyes locked with his black ones, and she flashed a perfect smile that sent him reeling. He knew then, in that moment, that he would do whatever was necessary in order to win her heart. 

-

The sound of her scream ripped him from the memory, sending him back to the reality of his current situation. 

“Still alive, though.” He told himself. 

He immediately searched for other pleasant memories to distract himself; anything that might calm his restless, pounding heart.

-

“Hi?” she asked, a confused look on her face. 

“Umm, hello,” the prince stuttered, “my name is Klaus.” 

He stuck his hand out for her to shake. She looked down at it inquisitively and then offered her own. 

“Cynthia,” she replied. He noticed an accent as she said her name.

Two weeks had passed since he first saw her in the rain that day. He had planned to come sooner, but the moment the rain subsided he and his father left Latveria and headed to the neighboring nation of Ikslav for a gathering of leaders.

The moment he returned he rushed towards her neighborhood in the hopes of seeing her again. He knew that the Romani often traveled from nation to nation – and the she could have very well have been gone. 

Luckily for him, she wasn’t.

“I was just, uh, walking through town and I noticed you and I thought I should introduce-” 

“You’re the boy from the carriage.” She innocently interrupted.

His eyes widened, “You remember me?”

“How could I forget?”

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. 

The two spoke simultaneously.

“I love you.” He said. 

“That was a pretty carriage.” She said.

They stared at each other for a moment. She brushed a few strands of her, now straight, hair from her face and tucked them behind her ear. Klaus stood, eyes wide, mouth agape, staring at her. 

“What did you say?” she asked.

“Umm,” he swallowed hard, “what- what did you say?” 

“I said that it was a pretty carriage,” she squinted at him, “did you say you love me?”

“I, umm,” he scratched his head, “it’s a saying in Latveria.”

“A saying?”

“Yes!” he said louder than he meant to, “we say I love you to our citizens. Especially as, umm, the Prince. Because that’s who I am. Yes. As the Prince of Latveria it is my duty to let you know that as a citizen you are, in fact, loved. By me,” he shook his head and put up his hands, “I mean, by the Country. Of Latveria. Where you.. uh, live.” He let out a sigh of relief, seemingly impressed with his concocted explanation. 

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with his explanation, “is that so?” 

“It is?” he replied, with an unintended inflection at the end of his sentence, making it appear as though he, himself, were asking the question. 

“Hmm, because you seem so sure.” She laughed. “You are, how you say, clown.” 

Unable to decipher her accent correctly, Klaus smiled innocently and replied, “No, it’s actually pronounced Kl-aus.” 

She looked at him with a blank face for a moment and then burst out laughing. While he didn’t understand why she was laughing, he decided to join in as well. 

“So, Kl-aus,” she giggled, “you’re the Prince?”

-

“Push, you’re getting close!” he heard the doctor through the wall, followed by yet another scream. 

He felt a sense of relief. After so many hours, she was nearing the end of it. All she had to do was hold out a few moments longer. Just a little longer. 

“Close. Close. Close.” He said to himself as he closed his eyes. “Soon this will all be over.” 

-

“I love you.” He said. 

She laughed, “as you do all citizens of Latveria, apparently.” 

“Stop it,” he laughed along with her, “that was six years ago, do you really not intend to let it go?” 

“Never, my love,” she said as she pressed her ruby colored lips against his. 

He admired the beautiful woman before him. Cynthia Van Damme. Her caramel skin set aglow by the candles that surrounded them, complimented only further by the subtle make-up she placed upon her face. Her long curly hung down to her shoulder, near the straps of the sage green dress she wore. Her emerald eyes shifted between his own eyes and his lips. She bit her bottom, signaling her intentions. He wanted desperately to satisfy her, but there was something he needed to do before that. 

“My beloved,” he whispered, “I love you.” 

“So I’ve been told.” She bit her lip again. “I love you as well, my love.” 

“Marry me.” 

The words come out with a confidence that he wasn’t expecting. She had always made him nervous, but looking at her now, how beautiful she was, how long he had waited for this moment. He couldn’t help but feel sure of what he needed to do.

She backed away, her eyes wide with shock. 

“Marry you?” she said slowly. It was her turn to feel nervous. 

“Yes,” he said, not letting her shock phase him. He knew, without a doubt, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her; and he also knew that she felt the same. He hated that circumstances required him wait so long to finally ask, but with death plaguing them with each passing year, it made it difficult to find a moment that wasn’t tainted with bad memories. 

He would have proposed upon their first meeting, when he told her he loved her outside of her home, but she would have rightfully said no. Soon after that incident their relationship blossomed and the two fell in love. It was whirlwind of passion and raw emotion. The two teenagers were of two bodies, but one spirit.

Then Klaus’s mother died, and he pulled away. His mother meant so much to him, and having lost her he didn’t know how to cope. 

That same year Cynthia’s parents decided they would leave for another country. She left Latveria for close to a year, during which time he focused on learning what it meant to be a King from his father. When she returned it was as though they had never parted. Their fire that was their love was instantly rekindled. 

On the night, he first planned to propose, her father became gravely ill. He died a few days later. And as such, Klaus decided he should wait before asking her. Months later, when he thought the time might be right again, her mother died, leaving her older brother in charge of Cynthia He offered to let the two of the stay with him, but his brother was too proud a man, and opted to leave and seek refuge with their aunt and uncle. He promised to wait for her. 

She returned two years later with her family and it was as though no time had passed at all. They were, as they had always been, madly in love with one another. He had planned to propose again two nights earlier, but was forced to postpone it yet again due to the death of his father. 

Tomorrow, he would be crowned King, and he knew that he would not be able to ascend the throne without Cynthia by his side. She was the source of his strength and his courage; if he was going to embark on an journey such as this he not only wanted her by his side, he needed her. She was his everything. 

And so, Klaus made the decision to not let fathers’ death impede him from continuing his life. 

She was his Queen. 

She always had been. 

“Marry me, my beloved. Be my Queen.” 

She smiled, tears rushing from her eyes, and nodded yes. 

“I will marry you, my love.” 

-

He smiled as he opened his eyes. He loved Cynthia Van Damme with all of his heart. He remembered how beautiful she looked as she stood beside him as they took the throne, together. Her beauty was breathtaking, and her strength that emanated from her was immeasurable. 

She was perfect. 

“She is perfect.” He said, “And she will survive this.” 

“I can see the babys’ head!” the doctor said from behind the wall. 

-

“Something is,” he admired her bare form as she stepped out of the shower, “different about you.” 

“Different? What are you talking,” she turned to face him and, upon catching his gaze, blushed bashfully, “why are you staring at me like that?” 

“Yes, different,” he smiled at her, “you’re glowing.” 

“Okay, Klaus.” He loved the way she said his name; he found her accent sexy. She giggled, “If you say so.” 

“I do,” he approached her and placed his face close to hers, “I think you might be..” 

She turned away from him to hide her blushing cheeks, “you’re being ridiculous.” 

“Am I? When’s the last time that you had your..”

“I don’t know,” she interjected, embarrassed. She took a moment to think about it, “I didn’t notice, but it has been a while.” She turned around and he could see the excitement in her emerald eyes, “do you really think that-” 

“I do.”

She looked down at her stomach and placed a hand over her belly. She then looked back up at him, smiling, and said, “We’re having a baby.” 

“I think we are.” He replied. 

They smiled and kissed. 

-

He remembered how happy he was in that moment. He had always wanted a child with her; to create and fashion someone that was equal parts both of them. She wanted a son, and he a daughter. They jokingly compromised and said that they would have one of each.

As he heard more muffled screams from within the walls of his bedroom he couldn’t help but think of his father. When Klaus was young he was constantly told by his father that the night he was born was one of the most stressful he had ever endured.

“More so than my first battle on the borders of Ikslav, or the Northern War of Latveria.” He would say with a joyful chortle, “Those were child’s play compared to the nervousness I had waiting for you to arrive, my boy!” 

Klaus stopped pacing when he realized that he was standing in the same hall his father stood in when he was born. He managed to chuckle at the thought of his burly father pacing back and forth, worriedly awaiting the arrival of his first, and only, son. 

But Klaus’s father didn’t have the same sort of pressure that he was currently facing. 

-

“Oh, not this again.” She scoffed.

“Yes, this again.” Klaus replied, “I’m worried.” 

“You have no reason to be worried. I’m going to be fine. The baby is going to be fine. Those magical Oracles of yours speak nonsense and my husband would do well not to bother me with such things.” She rolled out of bed and wrapped herself in her robe. 

“The Oracles have never steered me wrong. Every major choice I had made has been in conjunction with their prophecies. They have never been wrong, and I don’t believe that they are wrong about this.” 

“Well I do.” 

He sighed, “Beloved.”

“Don’t ‘beloved,’ me, Klaus.” She said, a frown on her face. 

“Fine,” he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, planting his feet on the ground, “Cynthia. I’m just asking that you consider it.”

“I’m not going to do that just because some old women think that having this baby is going to kill me.” She placed her hand on her hip, and indication to him that she was growing angry, “It’s ridiculous that you would even ask this of me.” 

“It’s not ridiculous that I want you to live. We can try again at a later time.” 

“Unless they say otherwise, right?” 

He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself. He didn’t know how to respond. He trusted the Oracles, more so than he trusted his own ability to make decisions. The Oracles worked under his father and when Klaus ascended to the throne they continued their work under his reign. 

It was the Oracles who told him that he should be weary of the neighboring Nation of Ikslav; and once the army he sent in the conquered the land, it was found that Ikslav was planning to attack Latveria just a few weeks later. It was also the Oracles that informed him of the drought that struck two years ago, which allowed him to plan ahead so that none in Latveria would go without food or water. And it was they who told my father that Cynthia and I would be wed someday – further proving in Klaus’s eyes that they were destined to be together. 

He tried to explain this to Cynthia.

“Oh, come on.” She replied, “I understand that you think those are prophecies, but they are not. First, we have had tension with Ikslav for centuries. The fact that they were planning an attack is not a surprise. Second, the Oracles were not the only ones who predicted the drought. You just decided to only listen to them. And third,” she held back a smile, “anyone could see that you and I were going to be together. No matter what happened.” 

He allowed himself to smile, but said, “I’m just worried about you, my beloved.” 

“I understand,” she stood directly in front of him, placed her hands on each side of his head, and stared at him with those green eyes he couldn’t resist, “But I’m going to be fine. Me and the baby. All of us. I promise.” 

She kissed him, smiled, and then playfully pounced on top of him.

They spent the day in bed. 

-

Klaus stood still as he heard the doctor yell, “One last push!”

Klaus felt as though the scream Cynthia let out reverberated through the walls. 

“If she’s screaming she’s still alive.” He said, like a catchphrase.

The scream that followed was quaint, and resembled a squeak more than a scream. 

“The baby.” 

Klaus could hear muffled conversations through the door. He wanted to go in to see that she was okay, but Cynthia made it clear that he wasn’t to come in until it was all over. She made him promise. 

A few minutes – which to Klaus felt more like hours – passed with no noise coming from the room. 

He was back to pacing up and down the hall, his nervousness getting the best of him. He knew that he should have heard something by now, and the lack of information was driving him crazy. He had half a mind to knock on the door to see what was happening, but restrained himself. 

“If they’re working on her I shouldn’t interrupt.” 

After several more minutes of thinking of every worst-cast scenario, Klaus heard the door open. He snapped his head towards it and watched as one of the doctors walked out, his head down. The doctor made a point to shut the door behind him 

Klaus hurriedly walked over and frantically asked, “how is she?” 

The doctor lifted his head and the two men locked eyes. Klaus immediately understood. 

His wife was dead. 

Klaus turned around and placed his hand over the top of his face. The palm of his hand covered his eyes as he used his thumb and ring finger to press down on his temples. He found that this usually helped calm him, but it was a useless gesture on this evening. 

The doctor said, “I’m so sorry, my Lord. We did everything that we-” 

The King, with his back to the doctor, put up his free hand gesturing him to stop. He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to hear that they did everything that they could; that they didn’t have it within their power to keep his wife safe, to keep her alive. He felt a rage inside of him building. He was seconds away from turning around and pouncing on the doctor, sliding his hands around his neck, and applying as much pressure as he could until he saw see his eyes bulge and his face redden. Until the doctor was dead. 

Dead like his wife. 

As if sensing the impending danger, the doctor took a step backward and said, “your son is alive though, my Lord. Alive and healthy.” 

His son. In that moment, he had forgotten all about the child. The child that she wanted so desperately. The child that he was so desperately wished she would have disposed of. They made a point of not wanting to know the sex until the baby was born. A boy. It was exactly what she had hoped for, and now she would never get to know him. 

“I need to see her.” He finally spoke. 

“You want to see the body?” The doctor asked nervously.

“I want to see my wife!” Klaus snapped.

The man took another step back and nodded nervously, “Of- of course, My Lord. She’s uh-, she- she’s ready. You can see her.” 

Klaus walked through the Doctor and headed towards his bedroom door. He remembered the last time he walked through the door, just last night, with his wife. How they disrobed in front of each other, giggling like children as they admired each other’s naked bodies, and crawled into bed. He recalled the smell of strawberries emanating from her straightened hair as he wrapped his arms around her, told her that he loved her, and kissed her goodnight. 

If only he had known it would be their last night together. 

He readied himself for what he would encounter upon entering the room; a gory mess of blood-stained sheets and medical equipment. Her pale and lifeless form; body cut open and exposed and so unrecognizable that it would send him over the edge. That the doctors and nurses would have left the entire room a mess so that he would have to take care of it all; take care of her, in death, the way he wasn’t able to in life. 

The reality was worse than he imagined. 

The room was pristine. All the medical equipment they hauled in had been removed, taken out through another exit.. There was no blood on the stone floor, or the bed, or anywhere. 

Then he saw her. His wife of the last five years. His lover of the last twelve. His best friend of the last thirteen. 

She looked beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.

He thought that there must’ve been a mistake. He rushed towards her. He knew that she had to be alive. He could tell by the color in her skin, the peaceful look on her face, the feel of her..

He grabbed her hand and then pulled away. Ice cold. The hands he once joked were as warm as a furnace were now as cold as ice. 

He tried to make sense of it in his mind. He didn’t expect her to look like this. So serene, even more so than when she was alive. He expected a face filled with anguish and pain, but she seemed as though she was in a peaceful slumber. As if he could cup his hand on her cheek and coax her from her rest so that she may wake up, and he would see those green eyes that he adored; that she would give him a smile, and a kiss, and tell him that she loved him, as she did so often. 

But as he rubbed her cold cheek she did not respond. She remained in her slumber, as he knew she would forever. 

Her image blurred as tears filled his eyes.

“My beloved,” his voice was hoarse, “oh no, my beloved come back to me.” 

She did not respond. She would not respond. He knew this but still..

“My Lord,” a female voice called from behind.

“What is it?” he snapped. 

The sound of crying filled the room. He turned around and saw a nurse, and in her arms was his baby. 

He might have thought that he was cute, with his chubby arms and legs, his cute face, that mirrored his fathers, and those green eyes that shined just as brightly as his mothers. 

If the baby hadn’t been the reason he now found himself huddled over the corpse of the woman he loved, he might have been happy to see him. Might have gotten into bed with his wife and held her while she held their child. 

A perfect family. Now a perfect illusion. 

But he’s couldn’t be happy. He couldn’t let go of the white-hot rage that was building up inside of him like a furnace. 

He clenched his fist tight and yelled, “Why would you bring it here?” 

“I’m sorry, my Lord,” she said, “I just thought- thought that you might want to see your son.” 

“Get him out of here!”

“Yes, right away,” she said as she rushed out of the door, making sure not to slam it as she exited. 

Klaus watched the door for a moment. It was when she opened that door, fresh out of the shower in her robe, that he noticed her glow. He remembered how happy they were to know that she was with child. The happiest moment of their lives. He longed to return to that moment, to any moment from his past; any moment he was with her. 

She was his light, and without her the darkness seemed as though it may just consume him.

He quickly turned to his wife and held her hand; cold as ice. If it was frozen. He too, felt frozen in this moment. Not even the fiery rage inside of him could thaw it. 

He proceeded to cry over her body, “My beloved! My beloved! Come back to me! Oh, please just come back to me! Please!” 

The sound of his wailing filled the room, made its way out into the hallways, and spread all across the Castle to let everyone know..

The Queen was dead. 

Written July 22nd, 2017


Image courtesy of Rienfleche