Chapter Text
January 2023
“Where is he?” Kristina’s harsh voice still made Wilhelm’s toes curl even through the tinny speaker of his bodyguard’s mobile phone.
“He is safe, Your Majesty,” Malin replied calmly.
“That is not the question I asked.” Wilhelm gripped the leather of the back seat of the car. He could feel the animosity coming from his mother even this far removed.
“I understand, Your Majesty. He is safe,” she repeated. If Wilhelm hadn’t been so on edge, he’d have been able to appreciate Malin a little bit more.
Kristina scoffed. “Wilhelm should be at home with us. To grieve together. As is expected.”
“Thank you for your concern, Your Majesty. I can confirm that The Crown Prince is safe. And he is grieving in his own way. I will return him home safely.”
The line was dangerously quiet. Wilhelm knew that Kristina was seething, but he also knew that she could probably see that she would get nowhere without him potentially making the front page of the tabloids. Again.
“Please make sure NDAs are signed by all parties. And I expect him to be at breakfast at eight tomorrow morning,” came Kristina’s clipped voice.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” But Kristina had already hung up.
Wilhelm let out the breath he had been holding.
Malin turned slightly in the passenger seat. Joakim remained stony faced behind the wheel.
“Where to, Crown Prince?”
“No, Sara,” Simon said, exasperatedly. The bass from the music was making it difficult for them to hear each other, forcing them to lean together to yell into each others’ ears.
“Please, Simon! It’s just through that door! They’re letting people in for the next two minutes. Please!”
“Urgh. Why? It’s just the same as in here but more expensive drinks and a load of rich assholes.”
“Why do you care about the drink prices? You’re not even drinking!” Sara glared at him with her arms crossed. “Please, Simon! It’s my birthday!”
Simon sighed like the put-upon younger brother that he was. “Fine.” He could never really say no to Sara. And she did have a point about it being her birthday. None of this night was what he had chosen, but she did deserve a chance to let go a bit after the last couple of years.
She squealed and hugged him before dashing off to join the steadily growing queue at the door next to the bar. Simon sidled up to her, trying to look more enthusiastic than he felt. Rosh and Ayub were nowhere to be seen, not that he was complaining; they’d been persistently chanting “Rebound! Rebound!” at him at every opportunity so far this evening and he was glad of a chance to not be dragged towards every vaguely single-looking guy in the club.
Sara stood up on her tiptoes, frowning, as she looked towards the front of the queue. “I wonder what’s taking so long?” She craned her neck a bit more. “It looks like they’re getting everyone to sign something.”
Simon sneaked a look around the group in front of them. “Yeah,” he said. “It looks like they’re taking down people’s details. Are you really sure you want to do this, Sara? It feels like a lot of effort.”
“No! You’re not backing out now. You promised! Come on, Simon. They’re probably just signing people up for a mailing list or something.”
It was not signing up for a mailing list. By the time Simon and Sara reached the front of the queue, it became clear that in order to get through Sara’s coveted door you had to sign some sort of disclaimer. Sara grabbed it and started filling it in.
“What is this?” Simon asked the imposing looking woman at the door.
“A non-disclosure agreement,” she said.
Simon frowned. “What for?”
“To protect people’s privacy. We are also collecting everyone’s bags and mobile telephones.”
“What? Sara, no. Come on.”
“Simon, please! It’s just your phone. There’s probably a celebrity in there or something and they don’t want pictures of their night out on social media.”
Simon sighed. “I can’t believe I’m letting you talk me into this.”
Simon quickly scanned through the NDA, filling in his details and signing at the bottom. Sara relinquished her bag and they both handed over their phones (Simon very begrudgingly after sending a quick text to Rosh and Ayub to tell them where they were).
They were hastily ushered through the door and into another room. In Simon’s opinion it looked exactly the same as the one they had just left. The lights were flashing the same colours, the bass was thumping the same beat, and the floor was just as sticky underfoot. But Sara looked like she’d entered heaven. Her eyes were wide as she scanned the crowd.
Simon had to admit that he saw slightly more pairs of tailored trousers in this room, and slightly fewer bad dye jobs. But people were people; and these people were no better than the ones they had left behind.
“Why did they let the non-exclusive people in?” Simon shouted over the music.
“Huh?” Sara yelled back.
“Why have they let us in from the other room?”
Sara shrugged. “Apparently they open it up for a while every night to let some people through. Maybe they’re trying to be nice?”
Simon hummed, his scepticism dripping from the single syllable. “Or maybe they just want fresh meat,” he muttered, as he strategically put himself between Sara and a very drunk, leery man who looked twice their age and at least fifty times their net worth.
Sara ignored him and pushed further into the room. “I’m getting a drink,” she said. “Meet you in a bit?”
“How will I…” But she’d already gone. “... find you?” he muttered grumpily to himself.
Why had she bothered dragging him in here if she was just going to ditch him at the first opportunity? Grumbling to himself, he pushed through the crowd to find somewhere inconspicuous to lurk. He hated drunk people; and he particularly hated drunk rich people.
He dodged around a handsy, brunette girl with sequins next to her eyes and a couple that had their hands down each other’s trousers. Two more near misses and he collapsed onto the end of a curved sofa, where about ten other people were grouped around a table talking animatedly. He shifted himself away from the group and tried to look unobtrusive. He caught snippets of their conversation.
“...must visit Florence…”
“...so sorry about…”
“...new yacht we procured…”
“...always welcome…”
“...must have been so hard…”
After about ten minutes of trying to blend into the background, singing along to the music under his breath, Simon sensed rather than heard the dynamic of the group shifting around him. A few people got up from the sofa and slid past him, some looking rather disgruntled. He heard a scoff and a - “Urgh, why did they open the doors to the vagrants again?” - as one of the girls purposely trod on Simon’s foot on her way past.
“Did daddy’s money not buy you any manners?” he snapped. She glared at him, a repulsed look on her face. The rest of the group shuffled past looking at him with varying levels of disgust before he felt someone sit down beside him.
He turned slightly to look at his new neighbour, ready to launch into a tirade if he needed to. A boy a similar age to him sat awkwardly a small distance away. It took a moment for Simon to figure out why he recognised him.
“Hi,” the boy said.
Simon looked him up and down. Crown Prince Wilhelm was wearing a nondescript button down shirt and dark jeans. The sort of outfit that screamed ‘I have money but am pretending not to shout about it’. He had a glass of something in his hand, but he didn’t look drunk. His eyes were intense and currently boring into Simon’s.
Simon straightened his shoulders and tried to make it clear how unintimidated he was by suddenly being in the presence of royalty.
“Are you going to insult me and assault me too?”
Wilhelm looked horrified. “No!” he said. “Sorry. I— that was rude of her.”
Simon raised an eyebrow but decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Okay,” he said. “Hi then.”
Wilhelm gave a small smile. Simon’s hackles lowered slightly. He tried not to look surprised by how different Wilhelm’s face looked compared to the sombre one he was used to seeing on TV, especially in the wake of Crown Prince Erik’s recent sudden death.
“I’m Wilhelm,” he said.
Simon smiled this time. “Simon.”
He wondered how often The Crown Prince introduced himself. Simon vaguely wondered if he was supposed to use an honorific, but quickly dismissed the idea.
Wilhelm nodded. “Hi, Simon.”
Simon nodded in response. Wilhelm sat back into the seat more comfortably. He placed his drink on the table and looked sideways at Simon.
“I liked your singing,” he said. Simon raised an eyebrow, because… what? What was Simon supposed to do with that?
Simon shook his head slightly, an incredulous smile on his lips. “Erm… thank you?” he said.
Wilhelm nodded at him, shooting him a small smile. “It was nice.” Simon let the awkward silence descend over them. Wilhelm broke it. “You don’t have a drink?” It wasn’t an offer.
“I don’t drink.” Simon had turned slightly to face Wilhelm, but wasn’t yet willing to concede to this conversation.
Wilhelm made a noise in his throat. “But you’re in a club?”
“I’m here with my sister,” Simon said. “And there are other things to do besides drink in a club. Like sing, and dance, and—”
As if to prove his point, the couple that had been on their way to indecent exposure earlier stumbled into him, still half dressed, clinging onto each other with their tongues down each other’s throats.
“Shit, sorry!” one of them said, separating their mouths with a smack.
“Oh fuck. Your Majesty.” One of the men quickly readjusted his collar and did a strange half-bow, half-curtsey thing. His partner was quickly trying to refasten his trousers as inconspicuously as possible. He was failing dramatically.
Wilhelm looked pained.
“I’m sorry,” the second one said.
“It’s not me you should be apologising to,” Wilhelm said, frowning at the couple.
“Yeah, of course. Sorry, sir,” the first man did his odd bow to Simon instead, who raised his eyebrows. He couldn’t remember a time he’d ever been called ‘sir’ before.
“It’s fine,” Simon said, quickly.
“If you don’t mind…” Wilhelm said, indicating where the two men were now stood, gobsmacked, between them.
“Oh yeah,” the second one said, coming to his senses. “Shit, yeah. Sorry. Sorry again. Come on…” He dragged his partner away by the hand, they both started giggling as soon as they left.
“Shit. The Prince, well, Crown Prince now I suppose…” Their laughter faded as they disappeared back into the crowd.
Wilhelm looked at Simon, his breathing slightly quicker. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah fine. It’s not the first time tonight that they’ve nearly knocked me over. They’ve been distracted I think.” He grinned at Wilhelm, who gave him a sheepish smile back.
“Yeah,” he said.
“And I’m sure you’ve given them a night to remember. It’s not every day you’re interrupted by royalty.”
Wilhelm looked away. “I’m not trying to give people nights to remember,” he mumbled.
Simon looked at him, trying to figure him out. Having been in his company for only a few minutes, he seemed an odd mix of confidence and insecurity. Simon had grown up seeing Wilhelm periodically when the royal family felt the need to parade their two sons around, which had been fairly infrequently, but Simon had still been vaguely aware of a prince around his age. By design, Erik had always been the more prominent of the two, the younger brother always relegated to the background.
He’d briefly been in the news a couple of years prior when he’d got in a fight in another club somewhere in the city. The widely publicised apology had been painful to watch and Simon had felt second hand embarrassment every time he’d seen a clip of it circulated on the news.
Then last month Erik’s death had shaken the whole country; Wilhelm suddenly thrust into the spotlight in the midst of his grief. And Simon had pitied him all over again.
“You might struggle to fade into the background in a popular nightclub in the city then,” Simon said, deciding to go for levity.
Wilhelm nodded, bringing his thumb to his mouth to chew on the skin there. Simon got the impression that this was a frequent habit. “I just…” He removed the thumb and looked at Simon, his eyes scanning his face before continuing. “I just don’t like being alone at the moment.”
The raw honesty took Simon aback, but he was still confused. Frowning he said “But surely there are better ways to not be alone than being harassed in public. If that’s not what you’re after?”
Wilhelm laughed, but it was a morose noise. “Yeah, probably. I just can’t seem to find them.”
Simon still didn’t really know what to do with this candidly melancholy crown prince. So he sighed and settled back into his chair, aiming for relaxed but probably not quite hitting it. “No high flying friends you can invite to the palace for an eight course meal?”
Wilhelm shook his head. “Not really. At least none that aren’t either after something or tripping over themselves to be ‘sorry for my loss’.”
Simon shifted uncomfortably. “And are people here not those things?”
“Oh, definitely. But if I only see people for one night, then they can’t expect much from me.” He shrugged. “It makes it easier.”
Simon thought of the friends he had that had rallied round him after his recent breakup to make sure he was okay. Lending a sympathetic ear or welcome distraction whenever they were needed. “Sounds pretty miserable,” said Simon.
Wilhelm nodded. “It is.”
His intense stare was back. Simon felt like he was having an out of body experience. What on earth was going on? How had he gone from celebrating his sister’s birthday alongside his two best friends, with dancing and laughter and thinly veiled attempts to hook him up, to having an impromptu therapy session with the Crown fucking Prince?
“Are you why we had to sign NDAs?” Simon said, suddenly realising.
Wilhelm looked awkwardly down at his hands. “Yeah,” he said. “Sorry about that. My mother isn’t particularly— It gets difficult to— I don’t want to be in the news again.”
Simon nodded. “I get that.”
Wilhelm seemed to relax a bit at this. He eased himself a little bit further back into his seat, so that they were no longer face to face.
“So why are you here?” Wilhelm asked.
Simon smiled. “It’s my sister’s birthday. She wanted to come to the city for a couple of days to celebrate. We’re here with two of my friends.”
“Two of your friends?” Wilhelm asked.
“Yeah. They’re more like family really. Sara doesn’t— She didn’t have anyone she wanted to invite.”
“Is she here with you tonight?” Wilhelm lifted his glass, swirled the drink around and then placed it back on the table without taking a sip.
“Yeah. And my friends. I’m not sure where any of them have gone, though.”
“I hope I’m not keeping you?” Wilhelm looked earnestly sincere as he said it.
“No, it's fine.” Simon shrugged. “I don’t mind. I was just waiting until one of them needed me.”
Wilhelm looked at him again, a small frown creasing his forehead. “What do you want to do?”
“Me?” Simon said. Wilhelm nodded. “Well… to not be here really.”
“Oh.” Wilhelm looked surprisingly sad about that. “Would you like me to go?”
Simon watched Wilhelm fumble with his glass in a bid to look ready to move, but he hovered, waiting for Simon’s answer.
“No. That’s okay. You’ve been the least obnoxious person I’ve spoken to all night.” Simon grinned, and was thrilled to see Wilhelm dip his chin to his chest to hide a smile.
“Thanks,” he said, looking back up at Simon. “Same.”
And Simon was horrified to find himself blushing. He shook himself. “Well, the bar must be pretty low then.” He forced a chuckle as he tried to get over his fluster.
Wilhelm just hummed and sipped his drink slowly. Simon wasn’t sure if he hoped Sara rescued him soon, or if he hoped she left him here all night to make awkward small talk with the Crown Prince of the country. As Wilhelm’s eyes bored into his, he realised he was very much leaning towards the latter.
Simon wasn’t sure how he got here. Well, he knew exactly how he got here. But he wasn’t sure how? The memory of the night was crystal clear, but he still couldn’t comprehend how the events of the evening had led him here. To this room. And this bed. With a sleeping Crown Prince beside him.
Fuck.
What was he supposed to do now? Would it be rude to sneak out? Would it be weird to stay? Should he leave a note? He wasn’t sure what he’d even write.
Hey. Thanks for the lovely evening. Might see you around!
No. That wouldn’t work. There wasn't really any etiquette for this situation. Because despite being in bed with Wilhelm, nothing had actually happened. At all. At one point Simon had thought that Wilhelm was going to kiss him; but then the moment had gone, and they’d been back to the comfortable if slightly stilted conversation they’d been having all evening. The conversation that had somehow led Simon to agreeing to come back to Wilhelm’s hotel suite. To help him sleep. Which hadn’t been a euphemism for anything.
Simon looked around from his vantage point on the bed. The hotel room was huge and spotlessly clean. Clinical and impersonal. The morning sun was seeping through the gauzy curtains and washing everything in a soft golden glow. Simon had a few seconds to think how sad it was that this was where Wilhelm chose to spend his nights, when he jumped at the sound of an alarm.
Wilhelm groaned and reached blindly out of the bed. After a few failed attempts, he managed to quiet the incessant noise coming from his phone. He flung it back on the bedside table and rolled over. Being made almost entirely of limbs, he managed to travel most of the way across the bed and his arm hit Simon square in the chest.
“Oof!” Simon said.
Wilhelm jumped and scrambled back to his side of the bed, sitting up and hastily pulling the covers over his bare chest. His eyes were wide and his breathing was coming in short gasps.
Simon rubbed his chest. “Morning,” he said.
Wilhelm opened and closed his mouth a few times before clearing his throat. “Erm… good morning.”
They stared at each other for a few seconds before both looking away in embarrassment. “I didn’t think you’d still be here,” Wilhelm said.
“What? And pass up a chance to sleep in a bed this comfortable? No way.” Simon was trying to lighten the mood. It was only marginally working. “Plus, I figured you owed me breakfast.”
Wilhelm smiled, but it slipped off his face almost as soon as it had appeared.
“Erm…” He coughed. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I’ve got to be… home for breakfast. At the palace.”
Simon was surprised at how disappointed he was to hear that. He blushed. “Oh. Okay. No problem. I’ll just–” He swung his legs out of the bed and started grabbing his things.
He could feel Wilhelm watching him from where he was in the bed, still clinging to the sheets.
He pulled one shoe on and reached for the other from under the bed. “Erm… my phone? Do you think I could…?”
“Oh! Yeah. Of course. I’ll just…”
Wilhelm grabbed a tshirt and padded out of the bedroom in just that and his boxers. Simon averted his eyes and then scolded himself for it. If Wilhelm didn’t care then neither should he. He could hear a muted conversation before Wilhelm came back in, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.
“Malin will give you a ride back to the club to get it. And then she can take you… home. Or wherever you need to be.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Simon stood up, now fully dressed.
“Sorry for keeping you,” Wilhelm said.
Simon shook his head. “It’s no problem. I decided to stay. I wasn’t sure what… I didn’t really know what the protocol was.”
Wilhelm blushed. “Yeah… I know this wasn’t…” he trailed off, unable to formulate the end of that sentence. He looked at Simon with the intense gaze that Simon still hadn’t got used to from the night before. “Thank you, Simon.”
Simon gave a tight smile. “Sure. I mean— it was no problem. I… erm…” He started walking towards the door to try to avoid what was turning into the most awkward goodbye he’d ever experienced. “Yeah. I hope you have a nice breakfast. I’ll just—” He raised his hand half heartedly and ducked through the door.
As he was scurrying across the living space he heard a thud in the room behind him that sounded suspiciously like a head being thunked down onto the wall.
Simon turned back just as he got to the door. He considered shouting out a last goodbye before thinking better of it and pushing the door handle.
The light outside the room was artificial and bright. That, paired with coming face to face with a suited up bodyguard, felt like being doused with a bucket of cold water after the warm, syrupy glow in the bedroom.
“Hi,” Simon said.
“Hello. Simon was it?” Her blonde hair was pulled into a severe bun at the base of her head.
Simon nodded.
“Right this way.”
A firm hand was placed on his lower back and he was guided into the lift past a second bodyguard who just nodded as they passed.
The doors shut behind them and the silence felt suffocating. Simon shuffled on his feet as his brain tried to make sense of the last ten hours. It felt like he was slowly coming out of a bubble. A bubble that for some reason had made him become the Crown Prince’s… what for the night? Friend? Comfort-for-hire? Well, if it was that, the rate was terrible. Although if he priced up a night in that hotel room he might have to lie down. Preferably in that huge bed again.
The doors finally opened onto the opulent reception area of the hotel. Simon was very conscious of the sideways glances the staff behind the desk were trying to not give him. He wondered - not for the first time - just how long the trail of NDAs stretched behind Wilhelm; and what conclusions the hotel team were jumping to as he was escorted out having spent the night in Wilhelm’s room.
Let them speculate, he thought. He drew himself up taller and stalked past them with as much dignity as he could muster.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Rosh said as he leant on the hotel door as it closed behind him.
“Is that Simon?” he heard Sara yell from the next room over.
“Yeah!” Rosh yelled back.
Sara and Ayub slid into the room, everyone looking accusatory.
“Simme!” Ayub shouted.
“Where were you?” Sara asked. He was horrified to see that she looked close to tears.
“Sorry! I’m sorry!” he said, putting his hands up. “We had our phones taken off us in that stupid room so I couldn't text you.”
“Yeah but where were you?” Rosh asked.
“I… erm…” Simon panicked. What was he supposed to say? What was he allowed to say? He hadn’t actually read all the small print on the NDA, and he was almost certain it didn’t have a clause about having spent the night. Or maybe it did, he had no idea what sort of antics Wilhelm usually got up to. He did have a reputation for being a bit of a party prince before Erik’s death. “I…”
“Did you finally get a rebound?” Ayub asked.
Simon swallowed. He hadn’t thought about Marcus since Rosh had been yelling ‘rebound’ in his ear yesterday. Whatever it was that had happened last night didn’t feel like a rebound. But he wasn’t really sure what it was. And what he was going to say otherwise.
“Sort of?” he said.
Sara folded her arms and shook her head at him whilst Ayub and Rosh high fived, whooping obnoxiously.
“Why didn’t you come and find me to tell me where you were, Simon?” Sara said. “I’ve been really worried.”
Simon took a step towards her, but she stepped back, frowning. “I’m sorry, Sara. I didn’t realise I’d be out all night. It just sort of… happened.”
“I bet it did,” sniggered Ayub from behind him. Simon threw a scowl over his shoulder.
“I”m really sorry. If I’d had my phone I swear I’d have texted you.”
She glared at him. “I’m mad at you.”
“I know.” He held his hands out to her in apology. “I’m really sorry.”
She looked at him for a moment. “Okay,” she said.
“Okay?”
“I’m still mad at you. But okay.”
He breathed out. He knew that was the best he was going to get. Sara sniffed hard and turned around, slamming the door to her room behind her. He sighed and turned to his friends, preparing himself for an entirely different sort of grilling.
Ayub wiggled his eyebrows at him.
Simon groaned. “Don’t,” he said, covering his face.
“Don’t what, Simme?” Ayub said, feigning innocence. “Don’t tease you for finally sleeping with someone after ditching Marcus?”
“I didn’t sleep with anyone,” Simon said, throwing himself down on the sofa.
“But you said—”
“I said ‘sort of’.” Simon curled his fingers in air quotes.
“What the fuck does ‘sort of’ sleeping with someone mean?” Rosh challenged, sitting down next to him.
“I didn’t say ‘sort of’ sleeping with someone. I said ‘sort of’ rebound.”
“What’s the difference?” Ayub said, perching on the edge of the coffee table.
Simon shrugged. Then said, “But I didn't sleep with anyone.”
“Where were you then?” Rosh asked.
Simon looked between his two friends. He knew they deserved to know where he’d been when he was sure they’d both been just as worried as Sara, even if they were currently hiding it behind banter.
“At a hotel,” he said.
Ayub laughed. “But no sex?”
Simon shook his head.
“Who with?” asked Rosh.
Simon pursed his lips and shook his head.
“What the fuck, Simon? Tell us!” Ayub said, nudging Simon’s foot with his own.
“No,” he said.
“Seriously?” Rosh said. “You really won’t tell us.”
“I really won’t tell you.” Simon’s stomach clenched uncomfortably, but he jutted his chin out defiantly.
“What were you doing at a hotel all night with some mystery man then?” She folded her arms and frowned at him.
Simon paused again. “Not having sex,” he finished with.
“Who takes someone back to a hotel room just to kiss them?” Ayub asked, incredulous.
“No kissing,” Simon said.
“What, like some weird ‘Pretty Woman’ thing?” Ayub said, nonplussed.
Simon shook his head. “No kissing, no sex, no ‘Pretty Woman thing’ . We just— we… erm… We just slept together?” He phrased it like a question, and looked sheepishly at his friends.
Rosh raised her eyebrows. “Is this a breakdown in communication? In my book, sleeping with someone is having sex.”
“No! No. I mean… we literally just… slept. ”
Both of his friends blinked at him in silence.
“What? For real?” Ayub asked, laughing in disbelief.
“Yeah.” Simon laughed as well. “To be honest, the whole night was really fucking weird.”
“Sounds like it,” said Rosh. “Who uses a hotel room just to sleep in the same bed as a stranger? Really fucking weird.”
Simon looked between his two best friends. “Has the interrogation stopped? I really want breakfast.”
“Who said we can’t interrogate you over breakfast?” Rosh said, just as Ayub said, “Breakfast! Yeah!”
Simon laughed and allowed himself to be pulled out of the room with his friends. He wondered what Wilhelm’s breakfast at the Palace would be like, and if he was thinking about Simon.
Wilhelm, in fact, was not thinking about Simon. Although he had been until about three minutes earlier, when his mother had started her newest lecture on appearances, and acceptable ways to handle his grief.
He’d shouted at her enough times about this to know that it never made any difference, and just made him more wound up.
“Are we done?” he said, when she finally seemed to run out of steam.
She bristled. “No, Wilhelm, we are not done. You will sit here and enjoy a civilised breakfast with myself and your father and you will remain afterwards to go through your responsibilities for the week.”
“Fine,” he said. “Please can you pass me the coffee?”
She handed it to him whilst exhaling hard out of her nostrils. “You wouldn’t need so much if you didn’t keep staying up until all hours doing goodness knows what.”
“Are you not drinking coffee, Mother?” he snapped. “And I slept fine last night, thank you for asking.”
The truth was, Wilhelm had slept fine. In fact, he had slept better last night than he had in as long as he could remember, even before Erik had died. He felt the colour rise to his cheeks when he thought about why he might have slept better.
“And where did you sleep last night?”
He considered answering It’s none of your business, but he knew that she could easily find out if she wanted to, and this was actually her respecting his privacy and giving him a chance to tell her himself.
“At a hotel,” he said.
She blanched. “Wilhelm. That’s highly inappropriate. Did all parties sign NDAs?”
He glared at her. “I am an eighteen year old man, I can sleep wherever I choose and with whomever I choose.”
“You know that that is not true, Wilhelm. Did they sign NDAs?”
Not the sort of NDAs you think we need. I didn’t have sex with anyone, I just wanted to be held and to convince myself that there was someone left on this planet who cared about me.
“Yes, they did.”
“Good. We have a meeting with the Court next week to start putting together a list of suitable heiresses for you to meet.”
No fucking chance.
“Yes, Mum.”
“We need to work on your public appeal and respectability.”
I just want to not feel like I’m dying.
“Yes, Mum.”
“We have a meeting this afternoon with the Prime Minister to smooth over the transition from Erik’s duties to yours. I expect you to be present, smart and engaged.”
I am drowning.
“Yes, Mum.”
“The notes are on your desk. You would do well to spend the morning reading through them. I will have someone collect you at midday.”
I have never been more alone.
“Yes, Mum.”
Kristina looked at her only son. Over the course of their conversation, all the fire had gone out of his body and he’d slumped further and further down into his seat, prodding the food around his plate. “There,” she said. “It wasn’t so hard to stop being so antagonistic for half a second was it?”
Wilhelm swallowed the lump in his throat. “No, Mum,” he said. “May I be excused?”
She sighed again, forever slightly disappointed with him. “Yes, Wilhelm. You may.”
He pushed his chair back so quickly that it clattered to the floor. One of the staff rushed forward and righted it just as Wille darted past them and into the corridor. He took long strides away from the breakfast room, willing himself not to run, not to give his mother the satisfaction of him fleeing her presence.
He turned a corner and leant heavily against the wall. His breathing was slightly erratic and he gave himself a few moments to pull in great lungfuls of air. He knew that he shouldn’t let her get to him, but his parents were the only people left in his life that might care about him at all. So he had to convince himself that she didn’t hate him, or else who was there?
He missed Erik; he missed Erik with a burning intensity that threatened to consume him at every waking moment, and most of his sleeping ones too. He couldn’t remember the last time that he hadn’t been actively thinking about his brother.
But that’s a lie, he told himself. You went several hours without thinking about him last night.
Wille took one last breath and started walking towards his room again. He mulled it over in his head. He had gone several hours without thinking about Erik last night. Or at least without actively thinking about him; without thinking about him so hard that his ears rang and he couldn’t see properly.
“It makes it easier.”
“Sounds pretty miserable.”
“It is.”
There had been something about Simon that had made him want to be honest. But there was also something about Simon that had helped him to forget his grief for a moment. Or at least, not be completely crippled by it. Because he didn't want to forget his grief, not really. He wanted it to be a part of him forever, just like Erik had been. But he didn’t want it to make him unable to function any more, and he didn’t want it to define him.
His parents were back to their daily lives, and had been for weeks. It was only Wilhelm that was ‘making a big deal out of it’. He didn’t know what had stopped him from actually hitting his mother when she’d said that. Flinging himself at her with flailing limbs and aching sobs. He thought it was probably only the fact that he was almost certain that she didn’t really mean it. And was almost certain she was only saying it so that she didn’t spiral into her own pit of despair.
His parents had mourned for a while, put on the show of a state funeral, and then got back on it. His mother was still occasionally retiring to her room in the middle of the day, and only by coincidence did Wilhelm know that it was so that she could cry in private before dealing with the rest of the day. He started cutting her a bit of slack after he’d discovered that, but he still didn’t forgive her for the way she’d belittled his own grief.
This building was suffocating; it felt simultaneously claustrophobic and colossal. He’d taken to curling up under his desk when it all got too much, and was only slightly embarrassed that his personal aide had found him under there twice.
So he was handling his grief, just not in the way his mother wanted him to. And until last night, he hadn’t been sure it had been worth all the friction. But last night had been… what? What had drawn him to Simon? What had made him be more honest with him than he’d even been with himself at times? What had allowed him to be so vulnerable that he’d made a potentially dangerous decision. A decision that he couldn’t bring himself to regret.
Because underneath his frustration with his parents, and the aching hole where Erik had been, and the crushing responsibility of his new role, he was feeling… something else. Something light, and giddy and freeing. Something he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before.
As he got to his room and closed the door, he conjured up an image of Simon before him. All bright smiles and dark curls and grounding calm. His heart gave a funny sort of lurch and he found himself grinning even though moments earlier he had been on the verge of a panic attack. He tried to remember what it had felt like to fall asleep beside him last night. He remembered talking for hours about Erik and his life, and he remembered Simon listening so intently. And he remembered feeling safe and warm.
Had they fallen asleep cuddled together?
He couldn’t remember. But he did have a vague memory of waking up to Simon’s arm wrapped around his chest from behind. If he thought about it too hard, it felt more like a dream; maybe he’d imagined it. But he hadn't imagined the feeling he’d had. That this was special; that this was something that he’d remember forever.
He wondered who Simon was, and if he’d ever see him again.
The papers on his desk were staring at him. With a sigh, he shook his head and crossed the room. Maybe Simon was best left as a golden memory, forever preserved in this moment. Wilhelm pulled the documents towards him, and tried to forget.
Simon slammed his laptop shut hard, his eyebrows rising up to his hairline as he looked at his sister in the doorway of his bedroom.
Sara raised her eyebrow at him. “What?” she said.
“What?” he said back.
She frowned. “I didn’t say anything.”
“I know.”
She huffed. “You’re being weird.”
Simon just stared at her, trying to will his heart to slow down.
“I just came to ask if you wanted to come for lunch with me?”
“Yeah, I do,” he said, glad that Sara had forgiven him enough for last night to be willing to eat with him. “Just… erm… give me a minute.”
She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Fine. But I’m leaving in ten minutes.” She walked out of the room with the air of someone that was still holding a bit of a grudge.
Simon carefully opened his laptop again and hastily closed all his browser windows. He thought he might have been less embarrassed to have been caught watching porn, instead of scouring the internet for crumbs of information about the Crown Prince of Sweden. Simon was a staunch anti-monarchist, and had often ranted at Sara about her proclivity for romanticising their usefulness in modern society.
But that had been before last night; and before he’d shared conversation - and a bed - with one of them. Wilhelm had not been what Simon was expecting, and Simon wasn’t sure what to do with that. He had surprised himself with how disappointed he was that they weren’t spending the day together today and had spent most of breakfast with Ayub and Rosh daydreaming about ordering room service to that lavish hotel room, before berating himself and telling himself that of course the Crown Prince hadn’t wanted to spend any more time with him. He’d also made it clear that Simon had already overstayed his welcome and then basically kicked him out of the hotel.
It didn’t stop Simon’s heart from fluttering every time he thought about last night though. And his research hadn’t really helped get the prince out of his head either. Wilhelm was sullen and serious in most of his official photographs, but Simon had found a few more candid shots where he could see the youthful glee that he’d seen hidden under the layers of grief last night.
Wilhelm had been sincere and sweet last night, and Simon had been completely swept up in his charm. He’d be berating himself in other circumstances, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to regret any of it.
He clicked out of the last image he’d left up on his screen: Wilhelm crouching down accepting a bunch of flowers off a young child at some press event or other. Wilhelm looked slightly awkward, like most teenagers who weren’t used to being around children, but his smile was bright and his cheeks were dusted with pink and Simon’s fingers itched to reach out and stroke his face. Just like they had been last night.
Simon didn’t think he’d ever felt such a magnetic pull towards anyone. Sure, he’d liked Marcus well enough, and they’d had good fun together for the most part. But with Wilhelm it had been… electric. And they hadn’t even kissed.
Simon sighed as he put his laptop away and stood up, stretching. His body felt strange, like it didn’t quite belong to him; like it was somehow missing being curled around Wilhelm like it had been last night. And Simon knew that was ridiculous, and if he repeated it to anyone, he was sure they’d laugh him out of the room. But he couldn’t deny that something had shifted, something deep inside him that knew that last night had been a defining moment in his life.
And he knew he would remember it forever: Every time he saw Wilhelm on his screen, or read about him in a gossip magazine, or watch his life play out from afar like it always should have done. But he knew he would always remember what it had felt like to hear him talk, see him smile, watch him fall asleep and feel like he’d known him, really known him; even if just for a moment.