Work Text:
“Thank you for meeting with me today.”
“Yes, thank, ah, thank you for coming.”
Wilhelm resisted the urge to chew at his thumbnail, and instead kept his hands clasped in his lap, so tightly the tips on his fingers turned white.
The interviewer was sitting primly in one of the ornate palace chairs, legs crossed at the ankles, not a hair out of place. Wilhelm sat opposite her, holding himself stiffly. Posture had never come naturally to him—Erik always said he looked like he was seizing. That used to make him laugh.
“Well, there’s no easy way to broach the subject—recently, a video of a very, ah, sensitive nature has gone viral, with the claim that you are one of the people in it.”
He looked at his hands. He looked at the interviewers motionless hair. He staunchly avoided looking past her and at his mother. If he looked at his mother he would lose his nerve.
Who is he fucking kidding, can’t lose what you never had. He opened his mouth to recite the script. He felt sick. And then…
Don’t think so much, just speak. Trust yourself to say the right thing.
Something Erik had told him, at some event or another. On one of the countless occasions when he thought about what to say far too hard for far too long and ended up hyperventilating in his bedroom.
Don’t think so much, just speak.
“Well, um, first of all, I will say that it is me in the video.”
The interviewer paused. “It is?”
“Yes.”
He breathed out through pursed lips. It occurred to him that that was the first time he had ever said something on television that wasn’t scripted.
“Would you…care to elaborate?” The interviewer asked, clearly unsure what to do without the script she had been given.
“No, not really.” It was out of his mouth before he could stop it. He almost laughed.
“I just mean, um…obviously, being the Crown Prince is still very new to me. And that comes with added….attention, from the public, which is….something I’ve never been very comfortable with.” Understatement.
“I will, of course, try my best to follow in my brothers footsteps, and be a good leader and representative of Sweden. But, frankly, I don’t think my personal life has any bearing on what kind of prince I am, or what kind of king I will be. This video, obviously, was a massive invasion of privacy, and I hope the public can respect me by letting this……die out.” He finished lamely. He really hoped he was done now. If he was asked to perform more he might just start crying.
“Alight, well…” The interviewer glanced behind him and he could tell she was getting the ‘wrap it up’ signal. “Thank you again for meeting me, and for your…candor.”
“Mmm.”
Eloquent. He could hear Erik teasing in his mind. He could almost smile. Someone called cut. He stood up abruptly, and locked eyes with his mother. Her face barely changed—it rarely did, after a lifetime of training. But her eyes told him there would be hell to pay.
He walked as quickly as possible to his room, tailed by Malin. He lingered on the threshold as she situated herself outside the door.
“Malin?”
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“What, um……” He bit his thumbnail. “What did you think?”
She blinked. And then smiled. “I thought that you were very brave. It made me proud to have you as a prince, Your Highness.”
He could feel tears welling up. He stuttered out a thank you and closed the door. Then he flopped down onto his bed. And smiled.