Chapter Text
There are too many pictures, too many eyes.
Wille can’t breathe. He can feel the familiar sensation of tightness in his chest, the way the world seems to narrow down, get blurry around the edges. Vaguely he can make out Alva’s voice in his ear, the way there’s an insistent tug on his sleeve, but it’s coming from a place far, far away. Barely audible, barely noticeable in the fog he’s losing himself in. So much like his nighttimes, with the sheep taunting him endlessly, the world blurring to a faint backdrop. Except it’s not nighttime anymore and there are no sheep but for a faint whisper at the back of his mind. One saying ’I knew you’d fuck up, I knew you’d ruin him, didn’t I tell you so?’
There’s another tug and he lets his legs follow, allows himself to be guided out of the room, gently pushed down into a sitting position on a velvety couch. A soothing hand on his back and it should really be his mother, shouldn’t it? Except it’s not and it stings. The panic is swirling and his heart beating loud enough to pulsate through his ears and his phone buzzing and it’s all too much-
He can’t. He won’t. He can’t.
He lets his head slump tiredly against the wall, draws in a shaky breath. Then another. The lingering scent of Simon is a soothing presence in his nostrils, the purple hoodie enveloping him like a long-distance sunshine hug. Only a shadow of the real deal but right now the only thing keeping him grounded in the moment.
”I can’t do this,” he tells Alva. Knows he doesn’t have the option to refuse.
”You can.” She says with unwavering certainty. ”You’ve come this far, haven’t you?”
And it’s true, he has. They have.
They sit there for a while, Alva’s hand gently rubbing his back, Wille struggling to get his head above surface again, fill his flooded lungs with air. Every returning breath feeding the determination rooting itself deep inside him. Not a delicate flower anymore but a sprouting weed quickly spreading roots. Strong and resilient and angry. He’s fought for this, he literally just got it and they’re not taking it from him. They’re not.
He taps anxiously at the keyboard of his phone, tries to find a string of letters conveying all the overwhelming emotions currently inhabiting him. Finds the Swedish language strangely insufficient. There aren’t words, none big enough to make sense of this, none important enough to explain. But it’s Simon and it’s important and so he tries anyway.
Types and erases. Types and erases.
Eventually he gives up, pockets the phone. What can one say through text when all that’s left to say speaks louder through actions? When nothing matters except for once again getting to breathe the same air.
He pushes himself to his feet, tries to grab hold of his inner resilience, bottle it up so it won’t abandon him again. Alva raises an eyebrow at him. ”Feeling better?” She asks, watches him carefully. Wille shrugs, gestures with his head in the direction of the conference room.
They return to the room. He can feel the way his knees are trembling but his back is straight and he’s not folding. Not this time. Not when there’s sunshine and hoodies and leftover dishes from breakfast cluttering a worn kitchen table to return to. Not even when the collected weight of eyes on him weighs heavy, when muffled whispers behind his back makes his skin crawl. He pretends not to notice as he pushes his way past them.
”His name is Simon,” he says as he comes to a halt at the head of the table, looks his mother straight in the eye. Like she doesn’t already know. ”He’s- we’re-” he trails off, unsure of how to define the absoluteness that is Simon’s presence in his life. The larger than life sort of feeling, still not defined by a word, a label, simply a sensation of belonging stretching itself between them.
”Reckless is what you are,” she says sharply. ”Engaging in relationships, public ones without the involvement of the PR team, without a background check and a briefing and my blessing? What you do reflects back on all of us, Wilhelm. Do you wish to abolish the monarchy, is that it?”
If he said yes, would that end in casualties? It’s on the tip of his tongue but he swallows it down, picks his battles.
”I don’t,” he soothes, ”It’s not like that. Mum, I love him.”
She looks ready to rip her hair out.
”Wilhelm, you barely know him!”
”I know him better than I’ve known anyone before,” He states, simply, truthfully. ”It’s my life. I just wanna be with him.”
”You ’just wanna be with him’? You’re Crown Prince, Wilhelm. It’s not that easy.” She crosses her arms, looks at him like she’s not certain who he is anymore. Wille isn’t so sure himself either these days.
”Why can’t it be?” he insists, knows he probably sounds like a petulant child, pleading to his mother to reconsider the decision of no ice cream before dinner.
He only barely listens to the tirade that follows. It’s nothing he hasn’t heard before, nothing he doesn’t already know by heart. A passionate speech about duty to the title, to the people, to the institution. Having to protect the image and the legacy over everything else, how he can’t expect to be treated like just anyone because he isn’t, doesn’t he get that?
He doesn’t. Doesn’t want to either.
It’s what he wants, desperately craves. To be just anyone. Just anyone that can fall asleep watching bad movies and kiss his boyfriend goodbye as he’s off to work and have coffee in public. He wants so badly it aches.
”Who took the pictures?” he interrupts. ”Who do I have to speak with to handle this?” The roots of the weeds have wound themselves tight inside his chest, rooted themselves in his very core, urging him to stand tall, to take action. To claim, to have.
Her eyes shift downwards, a flash of guilt ghosting across her face.
”That won’t be necessary,” she says firmly, the answer delayed just a few seconds too long. ”We did.”
That was not at all what he’d expected and he can feel his jaw dropping, the swirling anxiety in his belly turning red, anger rising up through his abdomen.
”Mum, you had me followed? Excuse my language but what the hell?” He tries to keep his voice level but fails ever so slightly, anger seeping through the words. It’s red, fire coursing through him, heavy pillars of black smoke rising towards the sky. Having the bodyguards at his tail every waking minute is one thing but someone else, someone taking pictures-. Wille feels dizzy.
”I was worried about you!” She exclaims, for the first time losing some of her composedness. ”You’ve been so down after Erik’s birthday and you wouldn’t talk to me about it, you just walked around here like a ghost,” she gestures vaguely with her hands in the air. ”And then you just disappeared off without bodyguards and came back looking like you’d given up, talking about unrequited love, of all things, before disappearing off again. Yes, Wilhelm, I had you followed. I was worried you were going to do something reckless and I knew you wouldn’t listen to me.”
If this had been a normal day Wille might have relished in the rare expression of concern, the obvious worry for his mental state. But it’s not a normal day and the smoke is clouding his vision.
”So you had someone document my private moments?” There’s a dangerous edge to his voice.
She purses her lips, her tone sharp. ”Anyone could have taken those pictures, you were in public, for god’s sake! We’re just lucky it was us and not someone else. Now we have time to handle the situation before it spirals any further.”
”I have a hard time understanding how my own mother spying on me makes me lucky,” Wille states bitterly.
She sighs. ”Wilhelm, sometimes I don’t know what to do with you. With Erik it was easier, he could see reason. I just wish-”
”Wish what?” He tries to keep the sharp stab of pain tearing through him from shining through. ”That I’d be more like him? That it had been me instead of him? Well, guess what? I already know that! Don’t you think I haven’t wished it myself a hundred times over? Don’t you think I see how you wish things were different every single day?”
He can see the stunned expression on her face, the way her mouth opens and closes, no words in retaliation to the painful truth at last spoken out loud between them. The lingering pain that he’d been carrying for years at last let out in the open, the old bone-deep flesh wound torn up once again. The ache like a missing limb, a taunting of the severed nerve endings causing a phantom pain harsh enough to again make his chest constrict, his vision blur.
”I can’t be here anymore,” he says sharply when another moment passes and she still hasn’t as much as reached out a hand in comfort. Not that he’d been expecting her to. It hurts nonetheless.
The ice in his words seems to finally break the one in her and she’s suddenly trying to restrict him, grab at him as he pushes past her.
”Wilhelm, we’re not done talking about this!” She calls after him, a hint of desperation in her voice.
”Well I am. I’ll be at Simon’s. I assume you already know the address, but don’t bother coming after me.”
He’s out the door before she has the chance to reply.
He doesn’t have the energy to convince Malin, who’s two steps behind him like always, or a driver to go against what will most likely be a direct order from the Queen, instead decides to make the drive himself.
His pulse is racing, chest again feeling too tight to breathe and he quickly makes his way down to the garage, slumps down heavily on the leather seat. He rubs at his chest, tries to make sense of the anger and confusion and sadness raging through him.
In his phone there’s Simon, worried at his lack of response and his concern brings some sunshine back, feeds the delicate flowers cowering beyond the web of sturdy weeds and piles of smoky ashes from the fire.
Mon, 11.12 am
i can see you typing, what's up?
Mon 11.42 am
wille?
Mon, 12.21 pm
has something happened?
you’re not ignoring me again are you?
Mon, 1.36 pm
can i come over?
of course ❤️
The reply is almost instant, like Simon has been waiting for his message. Wille feels a twinge of guilt course through him for once again making Simon worry, think he’s been once again discarded or ignored in favor of tending to a fragile reputation. He’s not. Wille wouldn’t. Not again.
The red car purrs as he turns the key. He stares blindly at the concrete wall for a second, tries to collect his thoughts enough to manage to exit the garage.
A sudden knock on the window makes him jump and Alva lets herself in, slides gracefully into the passenger seat.
”You’re not leaving me there with them, are you?” She asks, eyebrow raised. ”It’s complete chaos, you should have seen everyone’s faces when you just up and left like that.” The way her eyes sparkle hints at her own amusement of the situation.
”Alva- I- I can’t, I don’t think it’s the right time to- I mean- Simon-” He stutters, not really making sense of his own thoughts at the moment.
She bumps his elbow. ”Oh no, I’m not forcing myself into that conversation. I mean, I do want to meet him and all eventually, but I’m not dumb. I know when some space is needed.” She smiles gently. ”Nah, I was just thinking I could go with you and then take the car back? Save us some money on parking.”
Wille snorts. Like the crown would ever care about something as trivial as parking expenses. ”You just want to drive the car, don’t you?”
”Desperately.” She smiles at him and reaches out to gently pat the dashboard.
The car roars as they speed down the driveway.
***
Simon meets him outside the building, all soft smiles and ruffled curls in the wind. Wille waves goodbye to Alva as the soft rumble of the engine makes its way past them and down the street. He pretends not to notice the other dark car having pulled up behind them, tries to weave back the nausea of being followed, watched, photographed.
As he closes the distance, takes the few steps from the curb to the entrance, Simon reaches out for him, arms open in greeting and Wille wants nothing more than to fall into them, enter the blissful bubble where there’s nothing but sunshine and spring and them. Instead he takes a step back, throws an anxious glance over his shoulder.
Simon’s face falls.
”Let’s go inside,” Wille says, pleads with his eyes for Simon to not take this the wrong way, not take it as a rejection when it’s merely him keeping them safe, keeping what’s sacred and theirs private for just a little while longer.
He’s quiet all the way up the stairs, can’t shake the unsettling feeling of eyes on them, of enquiring looks, nosy cameras, of losing control.
It’s not until Simon’s door is safely closed behind them, not until Wille has curled himself up in the corner of the worn couch that he can feel himself relaxing. Slowly lowering the tense set of his shoulders, unclench his fingers from their tight grip.
He heaves out a sigh, looks up at last to meet Simon’s gaze. He’s perched on the edge of the other end of the couch, an ocean of space between them, a distance so large that it feels suffocating.
”I’m sorry,” Wille says quietly, chews at the edge of his thumb nail. ”I’m really sorry.”
”Sorry for what? Wille, what’s going on?” Simon’s eyes bore into his. Not unkind but questioning, wary. Afraid of Wille pulling away again. Wille gets it. Grabs feebly at Simon’s hoodie, tries to pull him closer, overcome the ocean. Breathe the same air again.
Simon gets the gist, shuffles closer on the couch until his warm presence is right there, his arms a safe haven for Wille to fall into. He embraces the fall, the faint rushing of wind in his ears, glowing sparks of fire on his melting wings as he’s slowly enveloped in sunshine, drowning in it.
”What’s wrong?” Simon repeats, softer this time.
”There’s pictures, Simon,” he mumbles as he tugs at Simon’s arms to wrap them even tighter around himself. ”She had us followed”. Saying the words out loud makes a shiver course through him, a new hot burst of anger to burn inside his chest.
”I don’t get it, what do you mean?” Simon’s voice is rough in his ear, quizzical.
”My mum- the PR team- I don’t know. They had all these pictures of us outside your work, outside here and Sara’s. They’ve had someone spying on us.”
”What the-” Simon breathes out, scrunching his eyebrows together in dismay. His arms wrap themselves even tighter around Wille’s body, almost tight enough to push away the increasingly large sense of discomfort currently inhabiting him, almost enough to suffocate the fire.
”Why?” Simon asks. Even though he must know the answer already. Even though it’s out of their control. ”Why would she spy on her own son?”
Wille shrugs. His mum’s mind seems to speak a different language, one far beyond his own comprehension.
”Nothing I ever do is good enough for her- it’s like-” he stammers out ”She wants me to be Erik but I’m not- I don’t wan’t to- I can’t. I don’t understand why they can’t just let me live my life, have something that is mine- have you. Without ruining your life, I don’t want to- I can’t-” his voice rising in a desperate plead. ”Simon, I can’t”.
Simon’s chin comes down to rest on his shoulder, curls tickling his cheek as he presses himself even closer, provides comfort in the simple act of proximity. ”Hey, it’s okay,” he whispers, breath tickling Wille’s neck. ”Tell me what you’re feeling,” he urges gently.
”I don’t know. Tired. Angry. Panicky. I didn’t know what to do so I came here.”
Simon sighs against his hair, a soft summer breeze tickling his skin. ”I’m glad you did. We do this together, right? One day at a time?”
Wille nods into his chest. One day at a time.
Simon makes them tea and they cuddle up together on the couch. It’s the most right Wille has felt since, well, since he was last curled up on this couch the day before. How it’s only been a day he can’t seem to wrap his head around. It feels like an eternity.
”How are you feeling?” He peers at Simon over the rim of his teacup, seeks out his gaze. ”I know it’s a lot. Perhaps more than you signed up for.” He tries to keep his voice steady, convey that it’s okay if Simon would want to back out.
It’s fine. He’ll be fine. He would.
It’s a lie and he knows it.
Simon sighs. ”I honestly don’t know. A bit weird, I think. Angry that my sister is getting involved in this mess. But, I guess, it’s not like we didn’t know this would happen, right? It’s Stockholm, you’re unfortunately a very public person. Someone was bound to find out eventually.”
Wille hums noncommittally. ”Unfortunately.”
”And- we’re not hiding this- whatever it is, right?” There’s a sudden flash of uncertainty ghosting across his face, a slight tremble in the words. Like he’s still not entirely sure where Wille stands. Like he’s still entertaining the thought that he’s someone Wille would want to hide. It hurts. Even though it’s true, that deep down Wille would like nothing more than to hide him, hide both of them in a safe cocoon away from everything.
”It’s not like I want to hide this, us, it’s just- I don’t want to ruin your life. Don’t want to lose you,” Wille mumbles, mind filled with flashing lights, with cameramen pushing at Felice, with nasty comments and crude remarks.
”Wille, you’re not. You won’t.” Simon insists. ”I can make my own decisions. I choose to be here, choose to be with you.”
”Yeah, I know. I just have a hard time believing you would want to, I guess.” He mumbles, twirls the string to Simon’s hoodie around his finger. ”So what do we do then?”
Simon sighs, brushes a strand of hair out of his eyes, presses a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. ”I don’t know,” he shrugs. ”One day at a time?”
Wille smiles tiredly, lets his head slump down against Simon’s shoulder. ”One day at a time. I just want to be with you.” There’s a kiss pressed to his hair, a soft ’me too’ exhaled on his skin.
It’s enough for now.
He stays curled up on the couch even as Simon takes off for work, drained by the sleeplessness, the morning’s spectacle, the emotions running on overdrive.
”I’ll see you soon, monkey. Don’t wait up, okay?” Simon kisses his forehead gently before he leaves.
Wrapped up in Simon’s favourite blanket, the radio show on at a low volume in the background, Wille sleeps.
He wakes up to Simon nudging his way back in between his arms. Tired look in his eyes, dressed down to nothing but his boxers.
”Is there room for me too?” he asks in a low voice.
Wille lifts the blanket, opens his arms for Simon to climb in. Wraps them tightly around him. Tight tight tight around cold skin, warms it up with his own. Sparing a little of his own borrowed sunshine.
”Always room for you,” he mumbles, presses a wet kiss to Simon’s bare shoulder. ”How was work?”
”Good. Tiring,” Simon says, muffling a yawn. ”Ayub says hi. He was surprised you didn’t call.”
”Was sleeping” Wille informs him, nuzzles his nose into Simon’s neck, finds comfort in the familiar scent of his cologne, the soft curls tickling his cheek.
”Maybe you should always sleep here if that’s the case.” The words gently exhaled against his skin.
”Maybe I should.”
***
Wille wakes up first, gently disentangles himself from the heap of limbs on the couch, careful not to wake Simon’s sleeping form.
There’s still dirty dishes in the sink. The recycling can is overflowing with pizza boxes and old milk cartons. It makes Wille smile as he puts an empty soda can on top of it, promising himself he’ll learn how to take it out later. It feels good having a purpose, getting to help out. He wipes some bread crumbs off the counter as he waits for the toaster, tries to figure out how to use the coffee maker. It proves somewhat complicated so in the end he settles for making them tea instead.
He’s in the middle of rummaging through Simon’s disorganized kitchen cupboards in search of sugar when his phone screen lights up, a familiar number filling the screen. His finger hovers over the side button, wills himself to wish her away. To muster up the courage.
He doesn’t.
”Hi,” he says instead, tries to keep his voice down as he presses his phone to his ear.
”Wilhelm, what do you think you’re doing running off like that again?” She says, in lieu of a greeting. ”Please come home. We’ve got the opening ceremony at the hospital today. And you have to be here for the morning meeting.”
”I think I’m gonna stay here for a while.” Wille replies, absentmindedly stirring some sugar down into the tea cup. ”I’ll go to the opening later, don’t worry about it. I’ll have Alva come over with the suit and my paperwork.”
Remote work is in fashion right now, isn’t that so? Who said he actually needs to be at the castle to keep up his work as Crown Prince?
His mother doesn’t seem to agree.
”Wilhelm, you have to think about how that will look!” There’s a desperate edge to her voice, a hint that maybe she’s losing control, maybe there won’t be consequences to his actions this time. It’s exhilarating.
”Actually, I don’t.”
Hanging up has never felt so satisfying.
***
And so he stays. Simon smiles all big and dopy at his timid request over breakfast, says ’of course’ and that they’ll make it work. And they do. They keep it low-key as they learn how to find their space in each other’s orbits, how to make room for the other in the chaos that is every day life. How to navigate the minefield that comes with a new relationship, especially so when it’s one the world is just waiting to rip apart at the seams to scrutinize every detail.
For that reason they’re careful. Too careful, according to Simon. Not enough for Wille.
He’s still scarred by the flashing lights invading his and Felice’s personal space, haunted by the feeling of losing control every time they venture out in public and so he tries to keep them safe. Promises over and over again that it’s got nothing to do with Simon, that it’s only to protect him, to protect them.
And Simon smiles lopsidedly at him, teases him once again for trying to be a ’knight in shining armor’ and ’doesn’t he know that Simon can fend for himself if it comes to that?’. Wille laughs but deep down he’s scared senseless of the possibility of ever letting it come to that. There’s a hint of annoyance in the set of Simon’s jaw even as he playfully rolls his eyes, bumps Wille’s shoulder with his own. Wille knows it can’t last forever.
But for now it’s safe. Simon is patient and warm and they take it slow. One day at a time.
They stay out of the public eye, as much as possible. Laugh and joke and hold hands walking along the waterfront in Simon’s favourite park. Wille goes riding with Sara again, finds peace in the easy company where no words are needed to fill the silence and there’s nothing but fresh air and the thrumming of hooves against rain-wet gravel.
They go thrift shopping with Ayub. Try on silly hats and find little knick-knacks for the empty spaces on Simon’s shelves. Wille starts a collection of porcelain sheep. Simon claims they’re horribly ugly but dutifully makes sure to dust them thoroughly on the rare occasions where he actually manages to clean the apartment.
Simon makes them pasta in the evenings before he’s off for work, leaving with a wet kiss pressed to Wille’s cheek and a request to ’not wait up’.
At times (less frequently than Wille would want, more frequently than Ayub would prefer) he tags along to the radio show. Him and Simon play footsie under the table, make out during songs and commercial breaks enough times to make Ayub repeatedly threaten to quit his job.
’That was Håkan Hellström with ”Nu kan du få mig så lätt” on The Vibe FM, 104.6. My name is Simon and we’re talking about unexpected celebrity encounters tonight. Don’t forget to call in with your- shh- uh- stories. Stop- oh-. Anyway, yes, please call in if you’ve got any- uh- lying around.’
…
’It’s time for another song, right? Yes. No- not that one- stop it-. Here’s ’So Handsome Hello’ by Woodkid, as requested by Isak. You’re listening to ’Late Night Vibes with Simon.’
…
’Would you shut up and come here now. Oh shit, the song isn’t playing- shh. Here we go.’
***
Felice
Wed, 1.10 am
Ugh I changed my mind, this is waay worse. Please go back to whining and pining and stop making out in people’s ears
jk I (mostly) love this for you, are we still on for lunch tomorrow?
Oh and bring Simon, I want to meet him in person
Wed, 1.17 am
I take it back. I don’t love it. Wille please stop making out with your boyfriend on live radio. WE CAN ALL HEAR IT
Wed, 2.42 am
that’s what you get for giving me relationship advice ;)
we’ll see you at the usual place 😘
***
Not-surprisingly Simon and Felice get along like a house on fire. Wille huffs and pretends to be annoyed but is secretly thrilled watching the two most important people in his life laugh together like old friends. It’s like yet another puzzle piece falling into place in the previous shattered mess that had been his heart and his life. Like things are slowly turning out the way the way they’re supposed to, like it was always meant to end up this way.
It’s not too bad this new life he’s making for himself, he thinks. A life where Wille and Crown Prince Wilhelm are slowly learning to co-exist. Not taking into account the fact that he still hasn’t spoken to his parents in weeks, that the only contact with the palace has been through Alva’s daily briefings, through Malin and Joakim taking turns in shadowing Wille and Simon around.
And then. There’s a conversation. A late night phone call when Wille is half asleep on the couch and Simon is away at work. An olive branch, a delayed attempt of understanding, a request of working it through together. It’s not enough and Wille mutters and scowls and insists he doesn’t want to go.
Except he kind of does and there’s Simon who he wants to show off and show her that he can have, desperately prove that it will work, beg for her approval of this forbidden romance. Because, as much as he claims not to care, to be on his own path and on a mission to show he can be Crown Prince and Wille simultaneously, when it all comes down to it he’s still a puppet in her show. The monkey dancing in the circus sand, letting its strings be pulled with only the lingering hope of some applause in the end.
And so they do. On a sunny Saturday in June Wille takes Simon to Drottningholm for the first time.
”We could always go home, you know.” Simon eyes him carefully as they take yet another lap around the little garden outside Wille’s window at Drottningholm, Wille trying to put off the meeting for as long as he possibly can under the guise of giving Simon the full tour. ”Or to Sara’s. We could spend the weekend doing something fun. If you’re not up for seeing your mum.”
The way he refers to his apartment as home, as their home makes the flowers blossom in Wille’s chest.
”If we get through the next hour we can go anywhere, you pick.” He shrugs, kicks at some loose gravel with his sneakers.
”You think it will get that bad?” Simon’s eyes on him are searching, his hand tugging at Wille’s to pull them to a stop next to a bench. Wille reluctantly lets himself be pulled down onto it.
He looks away. Fixes his gaze on the two familiar gardeners a few rows back, tending to the flowerbeds side by side. ”I honestly don’t know what to expect.” He says eventually. ”It’s not like this has been done before.”
”Well, we are pretty historical, aren’t we?” The smile in Simon’s voice is audible and he winks at Wille as he turns to look at him.
”You say that like it’s a good thing,” Wille groans, lets his head slump heavily onto Simon’s shoulder.
”It is.” Simon insists. ”You’ve said it yourself, that the whole reason you did the public coming out thing was to make history? Make a difference to people.”
Wille looks up, raises a hand to twirl a dark curl around his finger, smiles as Simon leans into the touch. ”Mostly I just did it because I had a massive crush on a certain radio show host famous for disliking the monarchy. But yeah, that too, I guess. I wanted to be brave, prove you wrong.”
”You are brave, Wille.” Simon says softly, tugs him closer. ”I thought that then and I still think that now.”
Wille is overtaken with the whirlwind of emotions coursing through him. The thrum of affection for Simon, for the way he looks surrounded by flower beds and gravel, a glorious contrast to the polished perfection of the castle in the background. An overbearing sense of anxiety at the thought of losing this, of being declined the one thing he’d gotten to choose for himself.
”We’ll be fine,” Simon promises, squeezes his hand. Relentless in his certainty, not a flicker of doubt of the existence of a them, of a future still filled with glorious messes and Saturday brunches and late night radio.
They’ll be fine. They will.
Wille nods in a hesitant agreement, tugs at Simon’s hand as they slowly rise to a stand and make their way out of the private garden, enter the palace through a back door.
The Queen meets them in the conference room.
”Wilhelm,” she says in greeting, gaze swiftly flickering downwards to their intertwined hands.
”Mum,” Wille says, straightens his back out of habit.
”Hi, uh, your majesty,” Simon stumbles over his words, doesn’t know he’s not supposed to address her before she’s spoken to him first. Wille loves him a little more for it.
”Simon,” She nods at him. ”It’s good to meet you at last. Please sit.”
Wille’s heart is pounding in his chest, fingers clenching tightly around Simon’s. A nervous thrum across his skin, awaiting her reaction, her disapproval, the carefully constructed speech of how this can’t be. How he’s had this break from duty, from legacy and now it’s time to return to the real world. How Simon surely must understand that this is the way it has to be.
Simon’s fingers are warm in his, a lifeline of sunshine Wille’s desperately clinging to. He won’t let her drown them. He won’t.
Surprisingly, she doesn’t attempt to. Instead she waits for them to sit down across from her before saying, with an uncharacteristic softness, that it’s a shame they’re meeting like this, that the circumstances are less than ideal and that it’s unfortunate Simon has gotten a wrongful first impression of their family.
”Wilhelm, I don’t want you to think even for a second that I wish for you and Erik to trade places. We might not always see eye to eye, but I’m your mother and I love you. Don’t ever doubt that.”
Her eyes are soft and Wille can feel his insides melting. The fizzling fireball of anger and resilient weeds are all crumbling down to a sticky pile of goo, his spine almost feeling too soft to keep him upright.
He sways a little in his seat. ”I-” he tries but can’t seem to find the words to form a sentence.
She doesn’t acknowledge his lack of coherent speech and continues. ”I’ve been having some time to think since the unfortunate event that happened and I’m very sorry for the way that must have come across to you. I do trust your judgement and I do want to be on your side. Even when I don’t agree with your actions.”
Wille tries again. There are more words now, slowly making their way up and out. ”So- we can- I mean, me and Simon- we can be together?”
”I’ll have to admit, I don’t think the situation is ideal.” She says, purses her lips, for the first time today hinting at her true feelings on the subject. ”However, it seems you’ve made up your mind, that this is what you need to do. And- I can’t lose another son, Wilhelm. I’ll support you. As long as you promise to honor your role as Crown Prince. As long as you’re willing to compromise on how to handle the public aspect.”
He nods wordlessly, blinks back the floodgates of water burning behind his eyelids. Simon squeezes his hand, a silent conviction of comfort, a life-line to hold on to.
”So what do we have to do?” He’s not dumb, he knows there will be conditions, isn’t foolish enough as to think they’re gonna get away this easily.
”Well, apart from the obvious, which of course is a thorough background check and the standard protocol etiquette classes, there has to be some kind of public statement regarding your relationship. You might have attempted to keep a low profile up until now but there’s still speculation going around. It will only take so long before the story is all over. If we want to stay on top of the narrative we have to announce it ourselves.”
Wille turns his head, seeks out Simon’s gaze. There’s a lingering bit of fear, of uncertainty mixed in with the softness of his chocolate eyes. It’s something they need to do, they’d been prepared for it, for the conversation, for the possible consequences of it. It doesn’t mean it’s not daunting suddenly facing it head on. Wille tries to telepathically convey once again that they don’t need to do anything, that it’s all up to Simon how and when they’ll eventually cross the line. But Simon smiles, a small crooked one. ’It’s fine’ he mouths, squeezes Wille’s hand in his own.
Wille smiles back. It’s fine. They’ll be fine.
They need to set up an interview with Rosenqvist, his mother tells them. She’s the only one they can trust and if this is what Wille needs to do then at least he has to be smart about it, strategic.
”No,” Wille says, can feel his pulse take off at the mere thought of being sat in that room again, back straight and lie through his teeth. He taps anxiously with a finger against the back of Simon’s hand. The fingers around his own tighten their grip.
”Your Majesty, if I may?” Simon cuts in. ”I was thinking. Or, well, me and Wille were thinking, actually, that we could do the announcement on the radio. I have my own show on The Vibe at night and that way we have full control of the situation.”
”With all due respect, Simon, I’ve heard about your show and the type of topics discussed there. It’s really not the appropriate forum for this conversation.” She looks at Simon with barely concealed dismay and Wille knows exactly what she’s heard, knows without doubt that she’s been informed of Simon’s rather extensive rants on the subject of their family and its role in society.
Simon looks right back, doesn’t waver an inch. ”And what exactly do you mean by inappropriate?”
”Given the small audience, the limited target group as well as its anti-monarchist reputation, I would say it is not the given choice for this type of announcement.”
”Maybe it isn’t- but maybe it’s the one we would feel most comfortable with?” Simon challenges. His voice is soft but his jaw is set as he meets her eyes without looking away.
The Queen sighs heavily. ”Wilhelm, is that how you feel too?” Her gaze is boring into him, making him squirm under its weight.
Wille looks between his mother and his boyfriend, draws in a deep breath as he tries to get his rapid heartbeat under control.”Yes,” he says eventually. ”I have full faith in The Vibe, if we’re going to do a statement it has to be there. I can’t do a proper interview for this, not again. I need to feel like I’m in control.”
”I suppose if I don’t allow it you’ll just go do it regardless,” She sighs again, suddenly looking ten years older. Wille feels a flicker of guilt course through him but swiftly disregards it. It needs to be on his terms, on their terms. It’s the only way.
”We will have a meeting beforehand, screening all the questions and what you are allowed to share,” She adds, gaze firm. Wille nods, takes a sip from the glass of water having been placed before him.
”You’re going to have to make a song request too, Your Majesty,” Simon pipes up. ”It’s the main rule of my show,” He grins, making Wille almost choke on his drink. He has to stifle a snort behind his hand, masking it as a cough. He’d never even entertained the possibility of his mother listening to any kind of music except for classical and ceremonial pieces typically used to entertain the royals. The Queen looks equally taken aback but Simon doesn’t falter in his easy smile and insistent gaze.
Eventually she seems to consider it for a split second, a pensive crease forming between her eyebrows. ” 'I’ll sleep when I’m dead’, Bon Jovi,” she says after a moment’s consideration, and Wille who didn’t think his eyes could get any wider suddenly realizes they can.
”Good choice,” Simon agrees. ”I prefer the earlier stuff myself, but anything Bon Jovi is always a good request, of course.”
”You can’t say who requested it,” She looks at him seriously and Simon mimes locking his lips and tossing away the key, making the hint of a smile ghost over her face.
Wille wonders incredulously if he’s woken up in a fairytale land because his mother and his boyfriend getting along is just something so unattainable he never could’ve even thought to hope for it.
”Don’t look so surprised, Wilhelm,” His mother says to his still dumbfound expression. ”Did you think I only listened to classical music?”. Wille shakes his head slowly, doesn’t admit to that being his exact thought.
”I was young too once you know,” She tells them conspiratorially. ”I sneaked out to see a concert or two back in the day when I was a young Crown Princess. Wilhelm’s grandfather was not very pleased, as you can imagine.” There’s a fond smile gracing her lips at the memory.
Wille doesn’t know what to say, finds himself staring dumbly at her. What is this day?
Simon looks highly amused. Alva at the far end of the table too, but hiding it better. Malin, who’s standing at the door, is the only one succeeding in maintaining a neutral expression.
”I think- uh- Simon and I need to go now, mum-” Wille says, makes a vague gesture at the door. ”If we’re finished, that is?”
There’s a stiff nod, an awkward goodbye with a promise to return soon and then they’re out the door, barely even making it into the car before collapsing in a pile of breathless giggles and relieved kissing.
”I can’t believe The Queen listens to Bon Jovi,” Simon mumbles against his lips. ”Do you think she listens to Queen too? That would be quite funny.”
”I can’t believe my life is real.” Wille sighs contentedly. ”This all seems like a crazy dream.”
”A good one?”
”The best one.”
When Malin asks them where they’re going, Wille says ’home’ without a moment’s hesitation. They watch Drottningholm gradually decrease in size in the rearview mirror.
***
’Hello everyone, this is Late Night Vibes with Simon on The Vibe FM, 104.6. It’s 12 am and I’m here all night to keep all of you night owls and night shift workers company. Like always, we’ll be playing good music only.
Like you might have seen on The Vibe's social media this is gonna be a very special episode and I can’t wait to present tonight’s special guest. It’s been a long way in the making. Some of you might remember a show I did a while back where we talked about love and you guys got to call in with your best stories of overcoming the odds. It was supposed to serve as a catalyst for my own attempts to get to that point with a certain someone. And guess what, it did. I guess I have you guys to thank for that, don’t I?
I’m not one to go on air and wax poetics about love, about how it changes you and how every day you wake up wondering how you’re allowed to feel this lucky. That's not me and I’m not gonna do that. What I am gonna do though is to introduce you, my dear listeners, to my own very special someone. Some of you might know him as ’monkey’, others as His Royal Highness Crown Prince Wilhelm of Sweden. The last one is a bit over the top, I know. Now, dear listeners, you also get to know him as my boyfriend.
You might be thinking now, how did this happen, how did someone so notoriously anti-monarchy as myself end up in such a relationship? Honestly, I’m not quite sure, but this little monkey managed to weasel his way into my heart and I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
We’ll be taking some calls later, answer some questions, but for now, do you wanna say hi to the people, monkey?’
’Hi’
