Chapter Text
Drowning, like he’d been shoved into the water unwillingly, not able to breathe or speak or pushback. That was what it had been like for the last month, after he’d hugged Simon and then not seen him since.
There was little else he could do other than comply with the wishes of his mother and father; he followed them back into the car and they took him away. His statement, of course, remained the same, denying the relationship, but it had been a month of hell, a month of waiting and reading countless tabloid pages and Tiktoks of August’s goddamn video of them.
Most of them were nice: telling people to take down the video. He’d even seen one in which there was an edit of him and Simon in front of a pride flag, with the words ‘we support you’ in front of it. He wished that sentiment could have been reflected across the globe: lots of Swedish people were outraged and horrified when the video had been leaked.
A lump emerged in Wilhelm’s throat every time he thought of the fact that the Queen had known that it was August who had leaked the video, and she didn’t care. Simon’s sexuality and identity had been leaked online without August even taking a minute to fully think it through. He’d been trending on Twitter within half an hour of the whole incident - they’d found his Instagram, his life, Simon’s every move was still being closely watched. It was a downright shitty thing for August to do especially after all Erik had done for his cousin to make him feel welcome amongst the royals.
Wilhelm wanted to do reckless things, not just be stuck in the palace, hidden from the public eye at all costs. He wanted to drink, to party. He wanted to get high again and go and sit on a football field and come to deep revelations about himself. He wanted to be back at school, where it had been so easy to slip out of the window at night, rather than the palace whilst was full of bodyguards and dogs that would alert everyone if he thought about leaving. It was this recklessness which meant that certain advisors of the crown didn’t want to risk him blurting out something that would ‘damage the Crown’ or ‘jeopardise his future’ so he had quite literally not stepped outside of the palace since when he’d returned, supposedly ‘safe’ from the cameras and the judging public.
He wasn’t allowed to leave, so instead he sat in countless meetings about his future, about them covering the scandal up, and he would sit chewing his nails off and tapping his fingers on the chair whenever they talked about potential heirs in the future and wives and he wondered whether they just couldn’t comprehend what he had been trying to tell them all this time.
Sometimes Wilhelm thought that perhaps it was a relief, that he hadn’t had to come out to his parents. He’d never had to sit them down and tell them, "I’m gay.” He’d never had to face the initial reaction from them: the disappointment which would fan across their faces upon the revelation. Hell - he’d hardly come to terms with it himself! After all, before Simon, he’d presumed himself straight. Although there had always been the little thoughts in his brains about various guys. But he’d not even considered coming out when he was first with Simon. And instead of a private event, it had been ripped from him brutally, publicly, humiliatingly.
Wilhelm was just glad that Erik hadn’t been here to see this disaster unfold. Of course, if Erik had still been there, it wouldn’t have been such a catastrophe, because Wilhelm wouldn’t be crown Prince but rather the second, ignored son. The tabloids wouldn’t be floating the headline, "What next for the future of the Swedish monarchy?”, and Erik would have been there to stop him from picking the skin from his lip obsessively whilst he worried for himself and Simon.
But Erik was gone, and so was Wilhelm’s sanity.
Messages from his boyfriend kept him going, although it was sparingly that he could afford time to reply to them. It was either a quick response or what was essentially an essay-long text, complaining about this, that or the other.
In turn, Simon kept him updated on his fish, most of the meals he ate, Felice and Sara, and how much he wanted to see him. The desire was desperately returned from Wilhelm: it was mostly what he thought about. Daydreaming (actually sleep dreaming as well) of seeing Simon, of kissing Simon, of hearing him sing and just of Simon himself.
After the month mark had passed, he dared asking. Breakfast, a typically silent affair now that Erik was gone, was filled with Wilhelm’s quiet declaration. "I want to see him. I need to see him.”
"No," was his father’s clipped response. And so they continued, scraping their cutlery across their plates and not acknowledging anything.
They were a broken family now. First his parents had lost Erik, and now they’d essentially lost Wilhelm. That was what it felt like, at least: like he was dead. Like they were grieving over the loss of their son who remained living in the house. Sometimes he would catch his mother crying in a room, and she would look up and then cry harder. He would walk out and try to stop his own eyes from stinging.
Facades of support were put up from the Crown, so it wasn’t radio silence. The whole world was watching for developments, despite Wilhelm having denied it. A second official statement, of which Wilhelm wrote precisely 0 words of, was released in which £100,000 was donated to a Swedish LGBTQ+ charity explaining the Swedish monarchy’s deep care and support for the cause. A publicity stunt, without any good intentions, although at least it was doing good things. Wilhelm would have loved to have been involved with it, but unfortunately he didn’t get to hear about his own statement until after it was on the major news websites. He’d snickered upon reading it: they could hardly call themselves supporters of it when he was being trapped here, forbidden from seeing anyone let alone his boyfriend.
He was glad to hear they weren’t even telling him anything about his own life anymore.
Wilhelm could hardly see the point of him being here: they might as well just lock him up in the dungeons and never let him out. Why bother giving him the comfort of the palace if it remained a prison?
So he needed to take matters into his own hands, and escape from his jail cell.
He needed to go and see Simon