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Chapter Text

Erik, Crown Prince and heir to the throne of Sweden, hated a lot of things more than he loved them. More than anything though, he hated his mother.

He hadn’t always hated her, as a child he had loved her with the naive love and hero worship all children give their mothers. But Kristina was cold and withdrawn even then;  She hardly ever visited Erik in the nursery or when he was being watched by his nannies, and even then she never stayed long, seeming hesitant to touch her son, let alone hold him. As crown prince, Erik’s lessons in everything from decorum to mathematics were intense and started early. Meaning the studious and obedient prince matured early, that he understood things that most seven years olds did not. Even as his mother’s discomfort and apathy turned to hesitant fondness and relief at the boy - no, the prince - he was becoming, Erik realized that his mother would never look at him with love in her eyes the way other mothers looked at their children. He knew that in another life, any other life, Kristina would have lived child free. She was too self-centered and career oriented to actually want kids - the only reason Erik even existed was because in Kristina’s mind having kids was part of her job - and there was nothing his mother loved more than her job.

Erik hated his mother for that, hated that she loved her job and her royal life more than she ever loved him, but at first he’d loved her regardless, thinking she might change if she just got to know him a bit better. It was a naive, childish hope, foolish blind love that only a child could give, but he gave it to her anyway. 

When he turned ten, his mother told him that he would have a younger sibling soon, and Erik was ecstatic. Secretly, he’d always wanted a sibling, a playmate, someone who would look up to him and something he could take care of that was more interesting than the goldfish on his dresser. He’d also thought it might be a sign that his mother was becoming more family oriented, that she’d finally decided that Erik and whatever child was in her stomach were more important than public approval rates and antiquated traditions.

A month after his brother was born, Erik’s hopes that his mother was changing were dashed when he had his first lesson in interpreting public relations. It was a boring class, but by the end of it Erik’s suspicions were piqued. He checked and rechecked the graphs and statistics, media statements, and publicity team suggestions and they all led him to the same conclusion. Approval rates for the monarchy had been taking a nosedive following a smear campaign in a politically progressive magazine, and a disastrous interview in which his father had put his foot in his mouth. From the records Erik had found, the press team had made a list of suggestions that would get the monarchy back into the public’s good graces and keep them there - the top suggestion was to create excitement by having another royal baby.

Erik shoved the stacks of papers into his book bag and blinked away furious tears. Wille was only a month old, but Erik loved him and his squishy red face and mewling cry more than he’d ever loved anything else in the world - and that baby, his sweet baby brother - would grow up being just as unloved by Kristina as Erik  himself had. His mother hadn’t wanted him, Erik knew that, she’d only had him because she needed an heir. Now he knew she didn’t want Wilhelm either. Wille was just another pawn in her game, another piece of her perfect life, another unwelcome side effect of her job as The Queen of Sweden.

Ten year old Erik crept into the nursery that night and refused to leave. Instead, he held the tiny bundle that was his brother, kissed his baby cheeks that were round from nursing, petted his soft head covered with wisps of hair that were too short to tell the colour, and promised himself that this baby, his little Wille, would not grow up the same way he did, would never feel as alone and unloved as Erik had. He would make sure of it, was going to smother his brother in so much love and affection that the sting of their mother's disinterest and their father’s endless silence would never hurt Wilhelm the way it had Erik.

Erik continued to sneak into the nursery each night, holding Wille for hours and more often than not, falling asleep in the armchair with his brother held tightly in his arms. He spent time with Wille in the daytime too. Anytime he wasn’t at a public event Wilhelm was too young for, Erik spent every minute at his brother’s side. He still continued with his lessons and made his appearances, but now instead of watching TV in his free time he read Wilhelm storybooks or helped the nannies feed him, or played with him. With Wille, Erik finally had someone to love who could return that love - and Wilhelm did. From the time he first opened his big brown eyes, Erik was the only person who could reliably make the baby smile - something Kristina took advantage of when they did photo ops. Wilhelm was a quiet baby, but whenever Erik was around he burbled and giggled happily, and when he was a year old he said his first word, squealing when the block tower he’d been building while sitting in Erik’s lap had collapsed.

“Erik!”

Wille waved his hands and wriggled in his brother’s lap, but Erik had frozen the second his brother had said his first word. His first word had been Erik’s name.

“Bok,” Wille said, pointing at a red block that had fallen out of his reach. When Erik- still frozen in shock- didn’t react, Wilhelm frowned and bounced.

“Erik!”

“Sorry buddy,” Erik said, finally unfreezing and handing the young toddler the offending toy.

Wilhelm hummed, resuming building his tower, unaware he’d just flipped his older brother’s world upside down. Wille had said Erik’s name as his first word - Erik was on top of the world.

Of course, it wasn’t all good.

Their mother gave Wilhelm even less attention than she gave Erik; and Erik was old enough and smart enough that the love he held for his mother was starting to be outweighed by his disdain for her. His hatred only grew when he saw the way Kristina treated his precious baby brother - his sweet, darling, soft, little Wille - with the same detached fondness she showed Erik when she was in a good mood, and open resentment when she wasn’t. There were a lot of things Erik could do as Crown Prince (young as he was). There were a lot of things he could ask for that he would receive. However, he could not keep his mother away from Wille, which meant he couldn’t stop her from hurting him.

The distance Kristina kept between herself and her second born was shattered when Wille turned two. The photo shoot from his birthday party went viral and royal family approval ratings skyrocketed. So much so that Wille immediately became a media darling and Kristina was urged by her press team to capitalize on it. The media hype didn’t last long, but it was long enough for Wille to get used to his mother’s presence and the false warmth of her press smile.

“Where mama?” He started asking when the photo ops became less frequent and Kristina once again abandoned him to the care of the nannies and Erik’s constant attention.

“Mama’s busy.” Erik told him time and time again, and hated how his baby brother’s face fell every single time. This was what loving their mother did- it only ever hurt in the long run.

Even still, as much as Erik despised his mother he still loved her too, still quietly yearned her approval by performing his crown prince duties perfectly and excelling in schoolwork far beyond his age level. He kept trying to weasel a genuine smile from her, a bit of maternal warmth, until one fateful afternoon when Wilhelm was three.

“Wilhelm no! Come back here, that’s enough. Stop it! Come here and put your pants back on - “

“No!” Wille hollered, his chubby toddler legs carrying him around the room with surprising speed. “Those pants are itchy! I hate them!”

Erik hid a snicker, knowing his mother would not appreciate it. They were attending a dinner with the Crown Prince of England in ten minutes, and Wilhelm was currently running around absolutely jacked full of sugar, without pants on.

Normally a nanny (or Erik if Wilhelm was feeling particularly difficult) would be in charge of dressing Wilhelm for such an event but Wilhelm’s usual nanny, Vera, had fallen sick and left early. No one had been able to find a replacement on such short notice, which meant Kristina was forced to act like an actual mother for the first time in her life. Erik thought it was hilarious at first, watching her clumsy attempts to reign in an energetic toddler, but the more annoyed his mother got with Wilhelm the less amused Erik was. His mother was a good queen but she clearly didn’t know how to deal with children - let alone toddlers - and her annoyance and uncertainty were agitating Wilhelm, making him contrary and uncooperative. Erik figured he might need to read more chapters than usual before Wille would fall asleep that night.

“Wilhelm put your pants back on.”

“No!”

“Wilhelm! Wilhelm stop that is ENOUGH!” With the last word she pulled her hand back and smacked Wille on the side of the head. Hard.

For a moment, all of them froze. Wilhelm seemed confused, his eyes going round as saucers before his face screwed up and he started to wail.

Erik saw red at the same time Kristina realized what she’d done. For a second she just stared at her hand as if she couldn’t quite believe it was hers, then she remembered herself and reached for the still squalling toddler.

“No!” Erik shoved her away from Wille, hard, putting his own body between the Queen and his crying baby brother. For a second he froze, realizing he’d never defied his mother before. Ever. Then he remembered himself and remembered Wille, and the anger made it too hard to think about anything else. “No, you don’t get to touch him. You hurt him. You hit him, which means you don’t get to be near him anymore.”

He scooped Wille up into his arms and the queen sighed.

“Erik-“

“No. You don’t get to touch him. Not even for the photo op. I’ll never let you hurt him again.”

The queen at least looked slightly abashed. Even though she was a bad mother, anyone with any semblance of a heart would at least feel ashamed for smacking a toddler. Then again, anyone with a heart wouldn’t smack a toddler in the first place- no matter how frustrated they were.

Wille wailed in Erik’s arms, his cheek starting to turn red and Erik’s anger flared.

“Get out.”

His mother scoffed. “Excuse me?”

“Get out. I don’t even want to look at you right now, and Wille is in no condition to proceed with your little publicity stunt. Leave us alone.”

“Erik you know I never meant to hurt him-“

“You did.” Erik’s voice was cold, “There is never  any reason to hit a child. Ever. For god's sake look at him, he’s a baby. He’s your son, and when you lashed out just now you meant to hurt him.”

“Erik-“

“Just go.”

Kristina seemed reluctant, but Wilhelm’s wails were getting steadily louder and she never did have the patience to deal with him when he wasn’t behaving. With one last apologetic look thrown over her shoulder, the queen left the room.

Erik rocked his baby brother in his arms and asked one of the staff to bring a cold compress for Wille’s face. He flaked on the event, instead he spent the rest of the afternoon locked in his bedroom, holding an ice pack to Wille’s reddened cheek while they sat together in front of the television. Ever since he’d started talking Wilhelm would babble almost constantly whenever Erik was around. That afternoon he was quiet and fussy, crying often and without warning. Erik cuddled him gently and plied him with sweets, combing his fingers through Wilhelm’s wispy dark blonde hair.

At around noon there was a knock at his bedroom door. When he answered it, Wille held protectively in his arms, it turned out to be Vera’s replacement.

Erik turned her away. Wille didn’t need a nanny right now, didn’t need to be cosseted by someone who was only being paid to care about him. Right now, Wille needed someone who loved him. He needed Erik.

Later that night, as Wille was starting to doze off in Erik's lap, he tilted his head back and looked up at him with wide coffee coloured eyes, still puffy and red rimmed from crying.

“Why doesn’t mama love me?”

Erik’s heart broke. Here he was, his two year old brother looking at him trustingly, a bruise on his cheek, asking why his own mother didn’t love him. Erik’s throat constricted and a wave of hatred for the queen overtook him as he floundered for an explanation. He didn’t know what to say. It would be cruel- and a lie- to assure Wilhelm that Kristina loved him when Erik knew that the opposite was true. On the other hand he wasn’t exactly sure what the protocol was when explaining to a toddler why their parents didn’t love them. It wasn’t something he’d been taught in one of his extensive Crown Prince lessons.

“Mama doesn’t know how to love.” Is what he eventually settled on, “The only thing she actually cares about is being the queen.”

Wille’s eyes swam with tears and his lip wobbled.

“But I want her to love me. I don’t want her to hit me.”

“She won’t ever hit you again,” Erik promised. That much at least, he could guarantee. He’d never figured out how to make Kristina love him- he doubted he’d ever be able to make her love Wilhelm either- but he could sure as hell make sure she never hurt him again.

“Ok.” Wille sighed, “Vera says some people don’t know how to love until someone teaches them. Maybe I can help teach mama.”

Erik bit his lip. He knew that if Wille’s sweet giggle and many hugs hadn’t yet melted the ice in Kristina’s heart that nothing he did ever would. He didn’t tell Wilhelm that though. Instead, he just hugged him a little tighter and cuddled him until he too fell asleep.

The next morning all the headlines raved about the Crown’s generous donation to an organization that worked with domestic abuse survivors. Erik knew it was the only sort of apology he’d ever get from his mother. Wilhelm - who was too young to understand the significance of the donation- would never get an apology at all.

It wasn’t enough. Erik hated his mother now, with the same vigour he used to pour into his love for her. She visited them even less now, and Erik’s heart broke every time he saw Wilhelm greet her with a smile or a hug that Kristina brushed off. He could see how it affected Wille, who would get quiet everytime she left and spend the rest of the day clinging to Erik- not that Erik minded. In fact, he now insisted on being present whenever Kristina wanted to see Wille. He didn’t trust her with his little brother and never would again, even though Kristina never raised a hand at him after that one afternoon.

Still, there were times when Erik did have to leave Wilhelm alone, had to trust that he’d be ok with nursemaids and nannies and eventually his pre school teachers. Erik was still crown prince, still had duties and responsibilities to tend to, all of which he performed flawlessly. Lacklustre though their relationship was, Erik and Kristina were both good at reading each other. There was an unspoken agreement between them. Erik would continue to be a model Crown Prince and Kristina would stay largely out of Wilhelm’s life, allowing him to have as much of a carefree childhood as possible within the confines of the royal lifestyle.

For a while their unspoken agreement seemed to be going well, but as soon as Wilhelm turned six his social schedule started to ramp up, and he got pushed into the same sort of classes Erik had when he was first learning to be the picture perfect puppet for the monarchy. It was then that Erik really started to worry. Wilhelm had always been different, was quiet, more sensitive than most kids his age and had trouble fitting in at kindergarten because of it. He struggled with the limelight, with answering interviewer’s questions and making small talk with dinner guests instead of simply smiling for pictures the way he had when he was little. He started having nightmares, creeping across the hallway from his nursery-turned-bedroom into Erik’s room to spend the night. It displeased their mother, and of course, their father followed her lead. Fed up, they tried one night to force Wille to stay in his own room by locking him in. Wille wet the bed, and clung to Erik all of the next day until he managed to convince Wilhelm to tell him what was wrong. When Erik found out what his parents did, he screamed at them for a full ten minutes. Unsurprisingly, his mother hated his defiance and resolutely told Erik that she was Wille’s mother and therefore knew what was best for him. Erik snapped back that she might have given birth to Wille but he was the only one who’d actually done anything to raise him. At that, his mother’s lips pressed into a thin line, but to Erik’s surprise she didn’t argue with him, instead she promised to let Wille sleep wherever he was comfortable on the condition that Erik didn’t put so much as a toe out of line. Erik agreed with a quick, agitated nod, and straightened his tie as he walked from his parents' office to the main sitting room for yet another interview. Wille peeked around the doorframe just as they finished taking photos and Erik couldn't help the grin that spread across his face at the sight of Wille’s rumpled dress shirt and the Harry Potter book clutched under his arm.

That night, Wille snuck into Erik’s room and crawled into bed with him, curling up tightly and tucking his thumb into his mouth. Erik found it endearing that Wille still soothed himself that way, but their mother hated it, saying it was childish and ripping Wille’s hand away from his mouth whenever he did it in public. Erik always tensed when she did that, remembering the day five years ago when she’d smacked Wille so hard he was bruised for a week. He wanted to pull Wille away from her whenever she did it, but he knew she’d never forgive him if he did anything to compromise the image of the perfect family she painstakingly maintained. Instead he contented himself by coldly reminding her that Wille was six years old - it wasn’t fair for her to scold a child for being childish.

He’d hoped - foolishly - that Wilhelm would get more used to being in the public eye as the years went on, but instead he seemed to be getting worse. The nightmares persisted and seemed to be getting more severe. Sometimes, he’d wake up screaming even after he’d already crawled in with Erik. His appetite seemed to be suffering, and he got clingier and clingier with every event they went to. Kristina had been forced to put Wilhelm into private lessons instead of school after the third time Wille ran off and hid so well the staff couldn’t find him for hours and they ended up having to get palace guards involved. In short, Wille was getting worse instead of better and Erik was starting to suspect that something was seriously wrong.

As much as Erik hated to do it, he brought his concerns to his mother. His love for Wille trumped his hatred and resentment for the queen.

“Oh it’s nothing Erik, he’s just being difficult. I already spoke to him about running off, he won’t do it again. His tutors haven’t mentioned anything and I’m sure he’s fine.”

Erik fumed. His mother’s flippant attitude had always irked him, but her blatant refusal to accept anything was wrong when Wille was clearly struggling sparked a familiar rage in Erik’s chest. If Kristina didn’t care to help Wille, then Erik would just have to figure out what was wrong and do it for himself.

It took less than half an hour of googling before Erik came to the conclusion that Wilhelm clearly had some sort of anxiety. From what he’d read on various medical sights Wilhelm showed all the signs of an anxiety disorder- the nightmares, lack of appetite at public events, the way he chewed his nails or sucked his thumb to soothe himself, and the way he clung to Erik whenever he was uncomfortable and sometimes cried when he was away from him. Erik painstakingly made note of all of Wilhelm symptoms and wrote his findings in an official, carefully worded letter to his parents that also detailed possible treatments for Wille. He left it on his mother’s desk and she summoned him into her study the next day, white lipped and furious. She screamed at him for making a big deal out of nothing, told him that Wilhelm was fine he was just being difficult and that he didn’t need therapy he just needed to grow up a little. Erik screamed right back, he yelled and bargained and threatened and begged but nothing would sway his mother. Wille needed help, Erik could see that, and he knew Kristina could too; she just wouldn’t acknowledge it and therefore refused to do anything about it.

Erik left his mother’s office unsuccessful that day, worry for his brother and his hatred for his mother warring in his heart. Now that he knew what was wrong with Wille he started looking for strategies to help him. Kristina had dashed all Erik’s hopes of getting his brother professional help, so Erik was forced to get a little more creative. He turned up the charm at every event, started courting minor scandals to keep his name in demand and Wille’s out of the press as much as possible. He taught Wille a signal to do at public events whenever he felt overwhelmed so Erik could cause a diversion or make an opportunity for him to slip away- a signal which Wille used frequently. They continued that way for two years, Erik trying desperately to help Wilhelm cope with his ever worsening anxiety, until one day when Wille was eight and everything changed.

The first time Wille had a panic attack was the most scared Erik had ever felt in his entire life. He’d followed Wille out of the lavish Christmas party his parents were throwing to check on him and hopefully spend the rest of the night watching Home Alone in front of the TV with Wille instead of avoiding talking politics with a bunch of visiting dignitaries. Instead, he found Wilhelm dry heaving into the toilet in his room, rocking back and forth, his hands wrapped around his head tugging roughly on his hair. Shallow, desperate pants tore from Wilhelm’s chest and his eyes were wide with panic when he looked at Erik.

“E-Erik,” he gasped, “I-I can’t-can’t breathe.”

“Easy Wille, you just have to calm down ok? Everything’s going to be fine.”

Wilhelm only shook his head, wrenching himself off the floor and pacing wildly, like a caged animal. He still looked terrified, and his breathing was getting even more erratic. Erik was starting to panic too. He knew how to look after Wille but he didn’t know how to deal with this.

“C-can’t breathe!” Wilhelm was growing more desperate.

“Here,” Erik crossed the room, placing a steadying hand on Wilhelm’s shoulder, “watch me ok? Follow my breathing.”

He could see Wille was trying, but he was too panicked to focus.

Cursing, Erik raced out the door and down the hallway in search of  someone, anyone who might be able to help. He’d given his security team the slip when he left the party but the workout room was just down the hall and he knew that the guard new hires were working out there that week.

He burst into the gym, where over a dozen guards, both experienced and new, were working out.

“I need your help!” Erik cried as they noticed him and all abruptly paused in their workouts, “you four,” he pointed to the four guards closest to the door, “come with me.”

Then he tore back down the hallway, the guards on his heels. He knew three of them on sight- Joseph, Aaron, and Jette had all been on the guarding staff for years and we’re all eagerly awaiting promotions. The last one, a blonde woman who looked to be around Erik’s age, was new.

“What’s the problem, Your Highness?” Jette asked as they ran. Only he and the blonde girl could keep up with Erik, desperate as he was to get back to Wille. Among the guards, strength training was often prioritized over cardio- guards were expected to keep up their own cardio regimens, although many did not.

“It’s Wilhelm,” Erik explained as they neared his room, “he’s having a panic attack.”

They burst into the room, Wilhelm jumping at the sudden appearance of people, his eyes widening even more. Erik cursed himself- the last thing Wille needed was more people, more stressors. What was he thinking?

“Wille,” he crossed the room, “it’s ok. Deep breaths ok? Can you do that for me?”

It was obvious that Wille was trying- clearly it wasn’t working. Erik shot a look at the assembled guards.

“Well? Can’t any of you help him?”

Jette’s face had become closed off.

“With all due respect Your Highness, our job is to protect the physical wellbeing of the royal family. Dealing with temper tantrums is not in our contract.”

Behind him, Aaron and Joseph nodded stoically in agreement, meeting Erik’s eyes squarely.

Erik’s desperation to help Wille was the only thing that stopped him from throttling them at that moment. Luckily he didn’t have to.

“Are you serious?” The blonde girl snarled at her colleagues, disdain written all over her face. She let out a curse in a language Erik didn’t know and jumped into action.

“Here,” she crossed the room in three strides, pushing Erik aside none too gently and carefully grasping Wilhelm’s shoulders, determinedly forcing eye contact.

“Your Royal Highness,” she said, her grip steady and sure on Wilhelm’s shaky form, “listen carefully. You’re having a panic attack. I know this is scary, but I’m going to help you get through it, ok?”

Wilhelm nodded, still hyperventilating. The guard helped him loosen his tie and undo the top button of his collar.

“This will help open your airway so you can breathe better, alright?” She told him, her voice calm and sure. There was a soothing lilt to her tone, a slight accent Erik couldn’t quite place.

She took one of Wille’s hands and placed it over her heart.

“Feel how I’m breathing?” She took a deep exaggerated breath. Wille nodded. “Ok, I need you to breathe with me ok? Match your breaths with mine. Breathe in…hold for a second…and breathe out. Good! Ok, again. Breath in…one, two, three, hold…and breathe out…”

Erik hovered anxiously, but the guard seemed  to know what she was doing, her demeanour calm and encouraging. Slowly but surely, under the guard’s care and gentle support Wille’s breathing slowed as he calmed down, his pants giving way to exhausted sobs.

Erik glared at Jette, Aaron, and Joseph who were  still standing silently, waiting to be dismissed. ‘Oh,’ he thought bitterly, ‘so they could follow stupid protocol, but they couldn’t use any of their training to help a child having a panic attack.’ Erik knew that some of the guards training was dedicated to diffusing tense situations and that they were required to have at least rudimentary medical training. He knew they must have had at least some idea how to help Wilhelm- they had simply chosen not to.

“Get out.” He snapped, voice low and deadly, “I’ll be speaking to your captain about this later, make no mistake.”

They snapped to attention, expressions carefully blank and quickly left the room.

Erik turned back to Wille and the guard. His little brother was practically sagging with exhaustion, shoulders shaking as tears rolled down his cheeks. As Erik watched, the guard carefully helped Wilhelm climb into bed and tucked the covers under his chin, murmuring soothingly. She looked about ready to drop a kiss on his forehead, before she thought better of it, gently smoothing Wille’s bangs out of his face instead.

Erik hurried over, sitting beside Wille on the bed and caressing his cheek softly.

“Oh Wille…”

“He should be alright now Your Highness,” the guard said, her accent curling around the syllables prettily, “He just needs to sleep for a while, he’s worn himself out. Once he’s relaxed for a bit he should be good as new.”

Erik nodded in acknowledgment, his gaze still fixed on Wille’s face as his brother’s tears stopped and his eyes started to droop closed. He grabbed Erik’s hand and held on tightly as his eyelids fluttered shut. Seconds later he was asleep, soft snores emanating from his peaceful form.

“Sir, was that-“ the young guard cleared her throat awkwardly, “was that his first time having a panic attack?”

Erik nodded. “I’ve known he has anxiety for a while, but he’s never- he’s never been like this before. I didn’t know how to help him.”

“Well, you had the right idea, telling him to breathe- he was just panicking too much to focus. You needed to get his attention- like when I grabbed his shoulders- and force him to focus, to slow his breathing.”

“Now that I saw you do it I think I’ll be able to calm him down if…if it happens again.”

“I don’t mean to overstep your highness, but it almost certainly will happen again. Panic attacks tend to get worse before they get better- if they get better- especially without professional help which- if you’ll forgive my boldness- I highly doubt the young prince is receiving.”

“You think he’s going to get worse?”

“I do.” The guard affirmed, looking apologetic. Her blunt way of speaking was refreshing for Erik, who was used to people skirting around the truth, pandering and telling him whatever he wanted to hear. This guard was polite but truthful. She was also calm, obviously smart, fierce, and had more compassion than Aaron, Jette, and Joseph combined- and they’d all been on the guarding staff for years. Honestly, Erik was a little bit in awe of her.

“Thank you,” he swallowed heavily, “thank you so much for helping him, and for being honest with me. A lot of people aren’t- honest with me I mean- and I appreciate it. Wille…he is what matters most to me. More than everything. Thank you for taking care of him, even though it’s not technically part of your job.”

The girl’s eyes flashed dangerously and she glanced derisively at where the other guards had disappeared through the doorway.

“I appreciate your thanks but it’s unnecessary. As far as I’m concerned, looking after him is part of my job. Mental well-being is just as important as physical well-being.”

“Well you might be the only guard on staff who thinks so. Thank you anyway.”

The guard’s cheeks flushed and she tugged on her braid self consciously. Apparently, she wasn’t used to being thanked.

They were both quiet for a second, Erik unsure what to say and the guard unsure if she was allowed to speak to the crown prince without being spoken to, and equally unsure if she could leave without being dismissed. Despite the heaviness of the conversation they’d just had, Erik couldn’t help but think how nice it was to have a conversation with someone close to his own age who wasn’t an heiress he was expected to woo or a rich young man he was expected to entertain.

Eventually he cleared his throat.

“I suppose I should let you get back to your duties. Thank you again.”

The guard offered him a respectful nod and a small smile, glancing fondly at Wille before leaving the room briskly, shutting the door behind her.

Then he just sat, watching Wille’s serene face as he slept and trying to figure out a way to convince Kristina that Wille needed professional help more than ever.

By the time Erik was on his way to talk to the captain of the palace guard he’d almost forgotten about the helpful guard from earlier with her fierce kindness and soothing disposition- that is, until he neared the captain’s office and heard shouting. He knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, he did, but the shouting was loud enough that it was hard not to.

“-been here less than six months and this is your third instance of unprofessional conduct, Rihel! I don’t care if you’re the top trainee or that you were the best at the academy, it doesn’t give you the right to ignore the rules! You put one more toe out of line and you’ll be kicked out of here before you even have a chance to say ‘sorry’.”

The voice that answered was cold and familiar, the accent that had sounded so soothing earlier in the day turned harsh by the cool tone.

“Are you even going to give me a chance to explain myself, captain?”

“You know how I feel about excuses Rihel, I made that quite clear the first time you ended up in here.”

“Well it’s a good thing I have explanations rather than excuses then, isn’t it?”

Erik swallowed a gasp. Mulligan, the captain of the palace guard, was an almost seven foot tall mountain of pure muscle, who struck fear into the hearts of anyone who looked at him. Even some of the biggest guards on staff were dwarfed by him, and between his rank and his size no one- especially none of the guards- ever dared defy him, let alone argue with him. The new guard had guts, Erik had to give her that. He’d never heard any trainee speak to Mulligan that way, like a peer rather than a superior or someone to either be feared or revered.

Mulligan sighed. “You know what? Fine. Let’s hear your explanations. Maybe then you’ll realize that I mean it when I say I don’t  care about your excuses.”

“Excellent.” There was a dark note of satisfaction in the girl’s voice, “my first infraction was a ‘uniform’ issue as I’m sure you remember. A number of my fellow trainees complained to you, saying my workout shorts were too short and that it was distracting for them to have to watch me work out in them. Rather than examine the obvious inappropriate nature of those complaints, or look at how such remarks directly contribute to the rampant sexism and low levels of female employment in this career, you agreed with them. You told me I couldn’t wear those shorts anymore and wrote me up for violating uniform policy. When I very politely reminded you that there is no dress code or issued uniforms for workouts, you called it insubordination. When I refused to stop wearing the shorts you wrote me up again. You directly contributed to the systemic sexism among the guarding staff and failed in your responsibility to maintain a safe work environment. Then, when I called you out on it you doubled down on proving your sexism, and made it clear you don’t like me because I’m a girl who doesn’t put up with any of your shit.”

“I told you already that those violations were not motivated because of your gender. I would have done the same with any other trainee wearing inappropriate attire-“

“- really? Because most of them work out without shirts on and none of them have ever been written up.”

“Rihel-“

“-Moving on.” The guard, Rihel, sounded absolutely hostile at this point. Erik could imagine her pacing around Mulligan’s office, glaring fiercely, every inch of her proud and unafraid, “My second write up was for- how did you put it in your report? Excessive violence? Hysteria? PMS?”

“An unprovoked attack on two of your fellow guards, that left both of them in the hospital, one with serious injuries.”

“Right,” Rihel laughed bitterly, “unprovoked. That’s what you call it. I call it self defence. It seems like you’ve forgotten, so allow me to refresh your memory. I made three separate documented complaints, long before I laid a hand on either of them, detailing exactly how Corbin and Andre were sexually harassing me. You never did anything about it despite the fact that I told you their comments were making me uncomfortable. I told you they were grabbing my ass and my tits, and you told me those allegations were serious and that you couldn’t do anything without proof. Apparently my word didn’t count as proof. When it became clear that you weren’t going to do anything and they weren’t going to stop I was forced to take matters into my own hands. They cornered me alone, at night, in the bathroom- of course I defended myself against my would be rapists. As far as I’m concerned they can go to hell and you can follow them.”

“You’re lucky you only got written up instead of charged with assault.”

“You and I both know the only reason I wasn’t charged is because both of them were afraid I’d tell the police exactly why I beat them up.  It was obvious what they were trying to do and I had the complaints documented. They’d probably end up with more jail time for attempted rape than I would get for defending myself.”

“Look kid, these are all real touching stories but I meant what I said about excuses. Maybe this is how you see what went down, but I can assure you I treat all trainees the same, female or not.”

“Bullshit. Oh, and by the way, the only time I broke protocol today was directly on the Crown Prince’s orders. Orders that my fellow guards staunchly ignored while an eight year old child, the prince, was struggling.”

“Rihel if you’re joking-“

“-I’m not.”

“-then you’ll regret it. Quite frankly, the whims of the Crown Prince are not your concern. You’re a palace guard- not a member of the prince's personal guard. This is your last warning. One more misstep and you’re done. Now get out, I can’t stand to look at you anymore.”

Erik took that opportunity to stop skulking, and knock on the door.

It swung open a second later.

“Your highness.” Mulligan nodded, “please come in.”

He glared at the blonde guard from earlier. “Out.”

The guard, Rihel, offered Erik a nod on her way out the door, her face a professional mask, all traces of her anger from a minute ago wiped clean. “Your highness.”

“Actually,” Erik said, “I was hoping you’d stay if you have a moment? I’d like you to be included in the conversation I’m hoping to have with Captain Mulligan.”

Rihel seemed apprehensive. Obviously her captain’s warnings left her insecure in her job’s security, and Erik asking her to join the meeting wasn’t making her any more comfortable. Nevertheless she nodded, stepping hesitantly back into the office.

“Your Highness I’m not sure why we need to involve Malin in this meeting-“ Mulligan started.

“You can call me by my last name Captain Mulligan, or address me as ma’am. We are not on a first name basis.” The girl interjected.

Mulligan’s expression soured but he nodded sharply in agreement, obviously displeased. Erik could see why. The use of the guard, Malin’s, first name was blatantly disrespectful, an obvious attempt to steal her dignity and infantilize her in front of Erik. Clearly she wasn’t willing to let that happen.

“What can I do for you, Your Highness?” Mulligan asked, leaning back in his chair. Beside Erik, the blonde haired guard stood stiffly.

“I have two things I would like to discuss this evening,” Erik said, genial, calm, and commanding- his future king voice. “First of all I wished to discuss an incident that occurred earlier in which three guards- Jette, Aaron, and Joseph- directly ignored my request for assistance and stood idly by while Prince Wilhelm was having a panic attack.”

“With all due respect Your Highness, I’m not sure what you want me to do. The guards primary responsibilities are to ensure the physical safety of the royal family.”

“They are also contractually obligated to respond to any request for assistance, especially if a member of the royal family is concerned about their safety- the way I was worried about my little brother’s safety earlier today.”

Mulligan pursed his lips. “Very well. I will speak to them.”

“Thank you.” Erik nodded sharply.

“And what was the other thing you wanted to talk to me about?”

“As I’m sure you’re aware, the captain of my personal guard, Mickan, recently resigned.” Erik started.

Mulligan nodded. “I’m well aware, Your Highness. Mickan and I worked closely together.”

“Yes, well it’s left a vacancy in my guard detail and the captain’s position open- a vacancy I am hoping to fill fairly soon.”

“I know Colm and Eoghan both indicated interest in the position.”

“Colm and Eoghan are both fine guards and I am pleased to have them as part of my security team, but I was actually hoping to fill the vacancy from outside of my existing guard.”

“I have a list here somewhere of our most qualified staff-“

“-Actually,” Erik interjected, “I already had someone in mind. Miss Rihel here impressed me with her poise and skill earlier, maintaining professionalism while assisting the youngest member of the royal family.” He smiled at her, “I would like to offer you the open captaincy position. The job is yours, if you want it. If you feel the captaincy is too much right now, I’d still like to add you to my personal guard- if you’d be amenable to that.”

Malin Rihel’s eyes had gone almost comically round and she blinked at him in shock. Mulligan looked like he’d just swallowed a lemon.

“Your Highness, while Miss Rihel has proven herself to be a…capable trainee, I must urge you to reconsider-“

“-No.” Erik cut him off firmly. “I am confident in my choice. Of course, I will consider other options if Miss Rihel does not accept the position, but until then, the job is hers.”

“I understand if you need a few days to think about it,” he added as an afterthought. He had sort of sprung this on the poor woman. “I realize this is a lot to ask of you-“

“No need to think about it.” She interjected, a slow, dangerous smile spreading over her face, ice blue eyes gleaming with pride, “I’m in.”

Erik grinned. “Excellent. Let’s start the paperwork then.”

Never let it be said that Erik was anything less than efficient. He’d walked into Mulligan’s office with two problems and left with a new head bodyguard.

“Listen, Miss Rihel-“

“Please, call me Malin.” She interjected. Erik couldn’t help the warmth that ran through his chest at the familiarity, remembering how Malin had steadfastly refused to allow Mulligan to use her first name just a few minutes earlier.

“Of course- Malin, I’m truly sorry for springing this on you and I want to apologize in advance for any problems this may cause between you and your coworkers. I realize there may be those who are unhappy with your promotion, due to jealousy or a misunderstanding of why you were promoted. I want you to know that you can come to me with any issues you may have, that dealing with any unwelcome comments or actions is not something you have to do by yourself.”

“Thank you, Your Highness but I’m sure I’ll be able to deal with any…difficulties by myself. I’ve been on staff for about half a year now, and I know which staff will likely have a problem with me being in such a prestigious position. Luckily, very few of them are involved in your personal guard.”

“Some of my guards have made sexist comments to you?”

Malin nodded sharply. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“Who?”

“I’m afraid I don’t feel comfortable speaking ill of any of my colleagues when they’re not here to defend themselves.”

“That shows a level of integrity that I’m not sure they would extend to you if your positions were reversed.”

Malin merely shrugged, tugging on her braid. Everything about her body language suggested she was unused to being praised.

“Uh listen,” Erik said, hearing his voice become a bit sheepish rather than princely, “I uh, I sort of heard you talking to Mulligan earlier about all your write ups? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdro-“

“I know.”

“You- what?”

A glimmer of amusement shone in the bodyguard’s eyes.

“I could hear you. The floor is made of marble and you walk like an elephant. I knew where you were as soon as you started coming down the stairs.”

“Oh,” Erik rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “uh…anyway I just wanted to apologize. Obviously I shouldn’t have done that.”

Malin shrugged. “Maybe not, but it’s kind of nicer this way. At least this way you already know all the shit I got in trouble for and I don’t have to worry about you firing me later on because of it.”

“Sorry,” she added as an afterthought, “I didn’t mean to swear. I’m just still not used to being around a prince.”

Erik laughed but sobered abruptly. “About Corbin and Andre-“

“-I dealt with that-“

“-I’m taking them off staff.” Erik pressed on, “Mulligan may not have taken your complaints seriously, but I do. Corbin and Andre are employed to protect people, and instead they abused their positions of power in the worst way. They don’t belong in the palace and they’re the last kind of people who should represent the Crown. They should be in jail.”

Malin nodded stiffly, refusing to meet Eriks eyes.

“That’s good, Your Highness, but it won’t solve everything.”

“I know.” Erik did know. Everything he did was never enough, and with his mother running the palace and Mulligan directly in charge of the palace guards movements there was little he could do to combat the culture of casual misogyny among the guarding staff. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Malin told him, “it’s not your fault.”

Erik cleared his throat and changed the subject.

“Would you prefer if I told the rest of my staff that you’ll be in charge or would you prefer to do it yourself?”

“I’d like to do it myself, if you don’t mind, Your Highness. It will be hard enough to earn their respect as is.”

Erik nodded. “As you wish.”

They were quiet for a moment.

“Malin would you…” he cleared his throat, “when we’re not in public, would you mind calling me Erik? It’s just…I never hear my name instead of my title from anyone other than Wille. If you're going to be the captain of my guard we’ll probably end up spending a lot of time together. I was close with Mickan- I hope you and I can eventually become close as well.”

“Is this your way of asking me to be friends?” Malin asked shrewdly, raising an eyebrow.

Erik could feel himself flushing. He was used to parties and state events, used to charming heiresses and conversing with diplomats. He was not used to speaking with fierce female bodyguards who looked like they could kill him with a single look, was not used to stilted conversations that actually had meaning and hesitant smiles that were quickly hidden behind a professional mask. He was not used to being around girls like Malin, who was a woman close to his age that he wasn’t expected to romance or impress. Basically, Erik didn’t know how to make friends.

“I mean- I wanted- if you don’t-“ he cursed himself for stuttering so ineloquently . His mother would be furious that he’d let his crown prince persona slip in a desperate attempt to finally make a genuine friend. He sighed. “Yes, I’d like to be friends. If you want.”

Malin hid a smile. “I think I would like that- Erik.”

Erik’s grin felt like it would split his entire face in half.

“Since we’re going to be friends,” Malin said, as they reached Erik’s room, where Wille was still sleeping after his panic attack earlier on in the day. “Will you answer a question for me?”

“Of course.”

“Why-“ Main bit her lip, showing the first sign of vulnerability Erik had seen from her all day, “why did you pick me? I’m a good trainee- the best trainee when it comes to athleticism and takedowns- but I’m brand new. There are guys here with decades of experience who’d kill for a position like this. Why not pick one of them? Why- why did you pick me?”

“Because of Wille,” Erik confessed softly. His beloved younger brother was the driving force behind most of his decisions. No one else ever made Wilhelm a priority, so Erik always did. He wouldn’t ever let his brother be unloved. “You knew what to do earlier when he was panicking. You helped him, you were calm and capable and kind. You cared about him when most people are indifferent. You saw the way the others ignored him- I saw the disgust on your face- and you didn’t hesitate when you knew you could help. I could use someone who actually cares looking out for me. Wille could too, and he’s with me most of the time. Besides all that, you’re obviously not afraid to stand up for yourself, you know when to speak up and when to keep silent, you’re super intimidating- no offence- and the top trainee. You’re the perfect choice.”

“Oh,” Malin stuttered, tugging on her braid once again- a nervous tic. “Um, thanks.”

“Really,” she met Erik’s gaze squarely, “thank you. There’s not a lot of people who would do what you did. There aren’t a lot of people who believe in me. It-it means a lot that you do.”

It was Erik’s turn to be embarrassed.

“Oh that’s- I- well, of course I do!”

Malin tugged her braid. “Thanks Erik.”

They smiled at each other and for a second they weren’t a Crown Prince and a bodyguard desperate to prove herself. Instead they were just two kids, kids who had just made a friend for the first time in both of their lives.

They said their goodnights then, Malin leaving to speak to the members of Erik’s guard who weren’t currently on duty and Erik going to check on Wille.

Having Malin around- both as a friend and as a bodyguard- turned out to be an invaluable asset. The day after he hired her she went with him to speak to his mother about getting Wilhelm an appointment with a therapist. Facing his mother’s cool gaze was easier than ever with Malin at his back. Mickan had been kind but he’d been Kristina’s bodyguard for decades before he was Erik’s and his loyalty lay with her.  Malin’s loyalty lay with Erik, and when he was facing his mother that made all the difference.

His mother’s refusal to admit anything was wrong with Wille made the familiar hatred burn in Erik’s chest. He remembered Wille’s terror the day before, remembered the fear in his eyes as he struggled to breathe and the many nervous ticks that were prevalent throughout his brother’s daily life- and Erik snapped. The argument with his mother was far worse than any he’d ever had before. He reasoned and bartered and yelled and threatened and begged and may have even cried a bit- eventually his mother had had no choice but to give in. Two days later Erik accompanied Wille to his first therapy appointment, his younger brother clinging tightly to his side.

Wilhelm received an official diagnoses for anxiety, and with regular therapy sessions he started to improve, laughing more and generally coping better at public events. There were still setbacks though, still days when Wille fled whatever event the queen had forced him to attend, or struggled to stay calm whenever Erik was out of his sight. Sometimes he had panic attacks, and Erik’s heart ached everytime he watched his brother struggle to breathe, when tears flowed down Wille’s cheeks and Erik had to desperately try to calm him down. Their mother was no help- her obsession with the Crown and it’s reputation lead her to force Wilhelm to keep his diagnoses quiet. In public she expected perfection from him, expected him to shake hands, to give short speeches and smile even when Erik could see he just couldn’t. She called him dramatic, belittled him in private, and slowly but surely undermined Wilhelm’s already shaky self confidence. Erik hated the way he couldn’t do anything to stop her. Any trace of warmth Kristina ever showed her son was a front for the cameras or an attempt to manipulate him. Erik could tell, could  see the way his mother used Wilhelm and ignored him again once she got what she wanted. He hated it, hated the way Wilhelm didn’t understand what was happening, hated that his little brother’s giant heart was the reason it was so easy for Kristina to hurt him.

Malin found Erik one night, after Wille had cried himself to sleep due to one of Kristina’s particularly harsh scoldings.

“No offence,” she said, lounging against his desk, her accent thickening the way it always did when she knew she was about to say something blasphemous, “but your mom is kind of a bitch.”

Erik huffed out an annoyed laugh. “Yeah she is.”

Erik would never admit that to anyone else, not even Wille, but Malin was different. They’d only been friends for a couple months and she was already the person he was closest too- aside from Wille. He could tell her things he couldn’t tell anyone else and trust her to keep it quiet. It was a strange feeling having a friend- a best friend at that- one he was unused too but one that was welcome nevertheless.

“I hate the way she treats Wille.” Erik didn’t mean to say it- it just slipped out.But still, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it, especially when Malin nodded in agreement, her blue eyes sharp.

“Me too.”

“I wish I could do something about it but she’s the queen and I’m just a prince and she’s my mom and Wille still cares about her and it’s all so fucking complicated-“

“Erik,” Malin cut him off, “look, it’s not your fault ok? You do so much for that kid, hell, you practically raised him. It’s not your fault  the queen doesn’t treat either of you properly.”

“It’s still my responsibility-“

“You have enough responsibilities.” Malin interjected firmly, “Fixing your mother is not one of them. Technically, neither is looking after Wilhelm but I know you’ll never admit that, not even to yourself.”

“Still-“

“-Erik, seeing the way she treats the both of you makes me feel sometimes like I’m back at home!”

A tense silence followed her outburst.

“Home?” Erik dared to ask.

Malin never talked about her past. It was an unspoken rule he’d learned very early on in their friendship. Erik knew Malin confided in him, knew she trusted him and valued his advice, but she made it clear that her past was something she didn’t feel comfortable talking about with anyone. He knew she spoke three languages- she’d helped to translate one time when Erik was awkwardly stumbling over banal french phrases with the daughter of the French prime minister- but other than the fact that she was fluent in French and English as well as swedish, Erik had no other clues about where she came from.

Malin huffed. “Yes Erik, home . The home I left my entire country to get away from because my mom never once looked at me like I wasn’t a mistake she regretted making, and my dad couldn’t bear to look at me at all after I came out to him!”

Erik’s eyes widened. 

“You- I mean I always wondered but- that’s why you left?”

“Yeah,” she tugged her braid, studiously avoiding Erik’s gaze “my mom never wanted me around and it showed. My dad wasn’t much better but at least he tried- until I came out to him. Me being gay kind of wrecked whatever relationship my dad and I ever had. My parents are super religious, they kind of freaked out when I told them I was a lesbian. When I told them I wanted to be a bodyguard it was the last straw- they gave me an ultimatum: either pursue a career they approved of or get out of the house. I chose the latter. Sweden had the best training program and I always wanted to travel so I applied for a scholarship to the academy and moved here as soon as I got accepted.” She shook her head . “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. The point is, whenever your mother scolds Wilhelm or demeans you I can see the way you blame yourself. I used to do the same thing, blame myself for all the shit my mom said. It took me a long time to realize that her bitchiness was her own fault not mine and it wasn’t my problem to deal with. I just…I don’t want you to do the same thing I did and blame yourself for your mother’s faults. It’s not your fault she didn’t want you. It’s not hers either- what is her fault is that she decided to have you anyway but makes no effort to even pretend to take care of you. Either of you.”

Malin’s words resonated with Erik. He realized she was right. As much as he couldn’t stand his mother he felt guilty. On some level he still felt that his mother’s apathy was his fault.

He couldn’t think about it for very long though. A few days after his conversation with Malin his mother called him into her office and told him that since he’d turned eighteen and had one year of high school left she had compiled a list of acceptable universities that he might attend at the beginning of the following school year. She also told him he’d be spending his final year of high school at an actual boarding school instead of being privately tutored the way he had been his entire life up to that point. For a second Erik’s heart leaped before it crashed back down to earth. 

The thing was, he’d always wanted to leave the palace. As the Crown Prince he knew that the palace was a gilded cage he’d spend his entire life in. Since he hadn’t gone to public school or even private school so far, university was the one chance he might have at freedom, to spend a few years living outside the palace and outside the spotlight. Now his mother was offering him that freedom a year early in the form of Hilerska boarding school.

“A year at Hilerska will help you make connections that will be beneficial later in life, and living at the boarding school will help prepare you for university life.” His mother explained, cold and detached as always.

Erik wanted to go. He wanted to go more than anything else in the world but…he couldn’t. If Erik left then Wille would be all alone here, in the gilded cage without anyone who actually loved him. Maybe Erik could go in a few years, when Wilhelm would be ok on his own. He was only eight right now- Erik couldn’t abandon him.

It took a lot of effort to convince his mother to let him finish his high school studies at home, but eventually he managed it. He tried to be happy about it but it felt like he was only delaying the inevitable. Next year, come hell or high water his mother seemed determined he’d go to uni.

He spent more time than usual with Wille that year, fear and worry about what might happen when he left eating away at him. Sometimes, when things were going well and Wille seemed happy, Erik would teach him how to video chat and browse through university lookbooks late at night after Wille had fallen asleep. Other days, when Wille had a panic attack or clung to Erik’s suit jacket and refused to let it go, the idea of leaving made him so guilty he felt sick.

“I know you want to go,” Malin said when he brought it up to her, “it’s obvious, and honestly it makes sense. You’re almost nineteen and you’ve never really left the palace. I know you want to look after Wille but he’s not your responsibility. Wille is a kid, but he’s not your kid. How much more of your life are you going to give up just so you can look after him?”

That hit hard- probably because it was true. Wille wasn’t his kid. As much as Erik had helped to raise him, at the end of the day Wilhelm really wasn’t Erik’s responsibility. He’d already given up his childhood to raise Wille. Was he really willing to sacrifice this too?

In the end it didn’t matter. His mother’s mind was made up- he was going to university. So, he chose one only a few hours from Drottningholm palace, packed his bags, made a recording of himself reading for Wilhelm to listen to before he went to sleep, and hugged his baby brother goodbye. Erik still felt more than a little guilty about leaving him.

“Promise you’ll come back?” Wilhelm asked, clutching him tightly. Erik ruffled the nine year old’s hair and smiled sadly.

“Promise. I’ll visit so much you’ll hardly know I’m gone.”