Work Text:
Wilhelm had always known Erik would be king.
He had always known, since forever, that his brother would be the greatest king to ever exist. He had told him as much.
“Well, thank you, Wille,” Erik had answered. “And you’ll be the greatest adviser to ever exist.”
At five years old, Wilhelm had nodded — of course he would be. He would be by Erik’s side all the time, listening, like their mother’s brothers did. Their uncles weren’t that fun, but they made their mother happy. They made her smile a little more. They made her shoulders less tight when she crouched down to kiss Wilhelm on the cheek. Mamma didn’t smile or kiss him often, but his uncles were definitely the reason she did it at all.
It had been explained to Wilhelm that Erik would have kids one day as well. That made him realize that, also one day, it would be his job to make Erik’s duties easier so he would remember to smile at his kids and kiss them often. To make him relaxed , a word Pappa always said Mamma never learned.
“But it’s going to be a long time before that,” Erik had announced. “Really. They don’t even let me listen in on the meetings yet.”
Wilhelm’s eyes had gone round. “Will they let me?”
Erik had smiled at him, so mischievous. “If they don’t, I’ll sneak you in.”
Ten years old was like a turning point in your life, Wilhelm thought. As a prince, at least.
There were still no meetings to sneak into, but there were lessons to want to get out of. There were words that he now understood. Autonomy was one of them. It was precious enough to remember, because the lessons had taught him one useful thing: he and Erik had none.
Mamma said otherwise. Pappa argued on her behalf, asking, “Haven’t we let you be?”
“Yeah, inside,” Erik would mutter at them. “ Only inside.”
“Only inside!” Wilhelm would exclaim, supporting him.
No friends outside school, and even there they had to be approved ones. Not going anywhere except from school and photo-op approved locations that desperately tried to depict “a normal life despite being a prince”.
Wilhelm often wondered if kids his age knew all these technical words. If they had been forced to remember them, forced to improve their vocabulary. His classmates at school didn’t, that was for sure.
Erik was at Hillerska, and he loved it. He had friends, he said, real friends . The school was far enough for Mamma to relax her scrutiny, and Erik knew how to “maintain appearances”, something Wilhelm was in the process of learning (and suspected he wasn’t going to be good at). Plus, Hillerska sounded pretty similar to the palace: a secluded place where everything was already there for the taking, if you forgot you were trapped.
At school, though, he could see glimpses of freer lives. He didn’t have many friends, and those he did have were no less than nobility, but their restrictions were fewer than Wilhelm’s: they could go to the movies whenever they wanted, and to parks, and to restaurants and to each other’s houses. They could hang out . Sometimes Wilhelm would be given permission to hang out with them, and the world would turn so fast before his eyes. He desperately clutched those moments to his chest, holding on to the small glimpse of a freer life for himself.
“I know you don’t like it,” Erik said now, the both of them sprawled in the gardens. And then, in that mock-stern tone he used to copy Mamma, “but it is a privilege.”
“Can’t we do something?” Wilhelm complained.
“I don’t think so, Wille.” Erik’s smile was just so sad . “But we can try.”
By the time Wilhelm reached twelve, Erik was getting tired of trying. But that didn’t mean giving up, he soon realized. It just meant chaos.
The screaming had started at some point during dinner. It was a rare one, the four of them eating together. And there they were, at the “family table” inside the kitchen, where they could supposedly be themselves. Wilhelm couldn’t remember having a heart-to-heart with either of his parents since he was five and didn’t know a thing, but this was close enough. He wasn’t participating, too concerned with the thumb in his mouth, but Erik had always stood up for him. He always would — this Wilhelm knew.
“He’s a kid, Mamma!” Erik was shouting now, ears red and fists clenched. “A kid!”
“He’s a prince!” Mamma shouted back, and you couldn’t look at her without thinking that being queen was the worst job in the world. “And so are you!”
Pappa raised his voice, just a little. “Could we please just-”
They paid him no mind.
“He deserves a childhood. He deserved one, and you took it away from him, from both of us.” Erik sounded exhausted. “I have never complained, because I know my duty. But please, for the love of God, let him live. Let him have something.”
“Kristina,” Pappa tried again.
Mamma was panting. Once, she had explained to both her sons that a queen never showed her emotions, because she was a symbol, not an actress. Wilhelm had understood, with the passing of time, that being queen and being a mother were opposing concepts. Not because it was impossible to be both at the same time, but because the first poisoned the second until they were indistinguishable from one another. Wilhelm wondered when he had stopped wanting to help Erik be like her, to have her position, because that would mean seeing his brother vanish right in front of his eyes.
“And what does that mean, huh?” she finally inquired. “ To let him live? To let him have something? Perhaps you mean to let him mingle and go around wherever he wants, but that’s dangerous.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake-”
“Erik!”
“ Mamma. We would hardly be pioneers in this regard, don’t you think? You having the two princes in your iron grip means stagnation.”
“It means stability .”
They looked at each other. Pappa didn’t say anything else, and Wilhelm closed his eyes. I want friends, he was longing to say. True friends. I want to go out with them and tell them things and feel normal. Please. Please.
“Look,” Erik started again, “you know he deserves it. He’s done nothing wrong, and he’s smart. He can keep up appearances just fine — he’s old enough for that. Mamma, please. Do it for him.”
And then, “I’m sorry, Kristina, but I’m with Erik on this one.”
Mamma had her queen face on. On, because there was always a point where she would turn it off and try to understand. That was one of the few things that made Wilhelm not resent his mother completely. This time, it encouraged him to speak.
“Mamma?” he whispered. Then, a little louder. “Mamma, please.”
Erik looked at him, features clenched in determination. Mamma followed his gaze, and her eyes softened just the tiniest bit.
“He’s your responsibility, then,” she announced. “He steps out of line, and it will all be gone.”
Wilhelm breathed in. Eyelids down again, they were canvases where a freer life was starting to be painted.
Erik exhaled with him. “I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Later, in Wilhelm’s room, they embraced. Erik supported his weight as Wilhelm fell into him, clinging to the only lifeline he had.
“This a responsibility, too,” stated Erik sometime after, now lying in Wilhelm’s bed horizontally. “If you want her to stop going for your throat, you’ll have to be careful.”
From the headboard, Wilhelm muttered: “I know.”
“Do you, now? Really?” Erik shook his head. Smirked . “I hope you do.”
It wasn’t long after that when, with Wilhelm almost fourteen, they let Erik in to listen on his first meeting.
When he came back, he said: “The Riksdag must be boring as hell.”
“They are,” Wilhelm confirmed. “I watch the news.”
“You’re kidding me,” Erik laughed.
Wilhelm looked down, almost blushing. “It’s what Pappa puts on when we’re in here.”
“Of course it is.”
They were in the TV room. Erik had promised to catch up with him on the Spider-man movies.
But the instant his brother came in, he looked different. He sat instead of laying down, his back straighter, his expression colder. It was as if Mamma was there instead of him, and Wilhelm wanted to squeeze Erik until all the stiffness poured out of him. He remembered trying it with Mamma so many years ago, but it had never worked. She would pat his back and say it was enough, so Wilhelm would cuddle with Erik instead. Now, he suspected, that wouldn’t be welcomed either.
He stayed where he was, on the sofa in front of his brother.
“Did they talk about me?” he asked.
Erik shrugged. “Just in passing.”
“About what?”
“They believed it was time to start discussing your possible school choices.”
No.
“Here… here in Stockholm, right?”
“Wille.” Erik looked at him keenly. “Yes, I think here, but they weren’t giving up about Hillerska. It’s tradition, after all.”
Wilhelm stared right back. “What did you say?”
There was a moment, so silent, where Erik’s posture seemed to relax.
“That I would try to convince you.”
“Will you?”
Erik’s smirk would have been impossible just a second ago. “No.”
Wilhelm’s sigh echoed in the room. There was a pressure in his chest, and he rubbed at it.
“I told you I would be by your side, Wille.”
“I know.” The pressure was receding, Erik’s words like a balm to soothe it away. “Thank you.”
“We’re brothers,” Erik reasoned, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, because it was. Then: “What would you do without me?”
Wilhelm dared to smile. “Maybe finish these movies faster?”
Well into fifteen, Wilhelm came to the realization that freer didn’t mean freedom .
“I don’t want to go to Hillerska.”
It was a scandal, hardly bearable despite being a family one (or maybe because of that). Erik had to appear shocked.
“Why not?” he demanded.
“You said I could be normal,” Wilhelm reminded him. Them . “Normal kids don’t go to elite boarding schools, do they?”
He had expected more arguing, more twisted manipulation. But they just looked at each other, sighed, and Pappa nodded at him. “Very well, then, Wille.”
Erik’s mouth twisted somewhat, but he quickly recovered. He cupped Wilhelm’s face in his hand, ruffled his hair, and kissed his cheek. “The things I let go of for you.”
I will have to let go of things, too , Wilhelm thought. But there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.