Chapter Text
It was Christmas Eve, and Wille found himself eating a miserable family dinner. The break so far had been bad. At home, with his parents, everyone is tense and awkward. Wille isn’t sure how much of the tension is because of The Tape, or because of The Absence. Probably both.
At the beginning of the break, Wille was filled with anger and hurt, and disappointment. He snapped at his parents when he wasn’t ignoring them. They had been generally unresponsive, leaving him alone and responding to his occasional outbursts by ignoring them. As the days had passed, Wille's anger had been worn down by grief and a sense of loneliness. Erik wasn’t around, he didn’t really have any friends, Simon was unreachable, and he wasn’t speaking much with his family. While he was still frustrated with his parents for the whole situation, he also longed to reach out, to talk with them, they were, after all, and despite everything, his mother and father, his family. And so, over time, he pushed his anger away and instead engaged with them. They made no comment about his change in attitude, but their conversations remained shallow, lacking in the depth and warmth he craved.
Christmas dinner was full of uncomfortable conversation - small talk about the weather (unseasonably warm they all agree), benign family gossip (carefully avoiding mentions of August), and school (what subjects does he like, how are his teachers? They avoid talking about friends because that is uncomfortably close to talking about Simon, and there is an unspoken agreement that Simon and The Tape are not to be discussed).
Eventually, the awkward tension was broken. Wille was a little surprised that it was his father that broke it. Having married into the Royal Family, Ludwig had been forced to become adept at making small talk and keeping the peace, so much so that Wille thought he could keep innocent chatter up forever if he had to.
Perhaps Ludwig had assumed that discussing Erik’s horse would be a safe topic, after all, Wille didn’t ride anymore and had hardly any connection to it. Maybe it was a carefully considered way to bring up the need to ‘deal with’ Erik’s belongings (his death) - start with a belonging no one had a particular attachment to. Or maybe Ludwig was just sick of avoiding talking about Erik and wanted to break the silence. Wille honestly wasn’t sure.
Ludwig cleared his throat, ‘We need to decide what we are going to do about Sebastian’. The Queen paused her fork halfway up to her mouth, she slowly put the fork down and met her husbands’ eyes.
‘What?’ She seemed stunned, stunned that Ludwig had broken the unspoken agreement – no mentioning Erik and his Absence.
‘Well, no one is riding him now, so I thought it would be better to sell him, let someone else who actually wants a horse have him.’
Kristina blinked slowly once, twice, then several times rapidly, fighting back tears. She opened her mouth, then closed it. Then she gave a jerky nod ‘Yes, alright, if that’s what you think is best.’ She nodded again and stared determinedly down at her plate for a moment before shooting a glare at her husband. ‘Should we also talk about what we are going to do with his clothes, all his furniture, his damn house plants, his dog, his cars’, her angry retort broke off at ‘cars’, Ludwig flinched, Kristina inhaled deeply and Wille sat frozen staring at the table.
Erik’s rooms were untouched. Dealing with Erik’s belongings meant dealing with Erik’s death, and no one was prepared to do that yet. Hearing Ludwig casually bring up Erik at Christmas dinner (with Erik’s empty chair sitting beside Wille) broke the fragile peace that had been built. Wille felt faint stirrings of some emotion bubbling up inside him, too faint to identify what. He felt his heart rate increase and a tightness in his chest. His legs tensed and he wanted nothing more than to get up and run.
Kristina stared at Ludwig, face tightly set, eyes bright with tears, and lips pursed. Ludwig met her gaze, he appeared ashamed, but also a little defiant. His face softened somewhat, and he said gently ‘We do need to deal with it eventually, we can’t keep ignoring it forever', whether he was talking just about Erik’s belongings or Erik’s death in general Wille couldn’t tell.
Kristina swallowed tightly, clenched her jaw, glanced quickly at Wille then away again, and responded crispy ‘Not tonight, it's Christmas.’
Something broke inside Wille at that moment. He wasn’t sure what or why, all he knew was the simple dismissal made something ache deep inside. He knew that his mother would continue to find reasons not to talk about it. After all, a stiff upper lip was the family way. Conceal, don’t feel. Eventually, the pain would dull, become a persistent ache, time heals all wounds and all that – at least that seemed to be Kristina and Ludwig’s philosophy. But Wille couldn’t help but wonder if there wasn’t a better way to deal with feelings.
Wille stared blindly at the table in front of him, no longer hungry he put his knife and fork down and waited. Waited for one of his parents to come up with a suitable topic of conversation, one that would move them far away from thoughts of their dead son. He couldn’t offer anything, his only thoughts now about the pain of Erik’s absence.
The uncomfortable silence stretched on, Wille’s parents mechanically eating while glancing at each other, never settling their gazes long enough to initiate eye contact. Ludwig paused every so often, half-opened his mouth as if to speak, then shut it again, deciding not to break the silence. Wille’s heart continued to pound, and he sat still, legs trembling under the table. Finally, Kristina let out a deep sigh and broke the silence: ‘Do you think your rowing team will win this year, Wilhelm?’
Wille twitched at being suddenly addressed. Now faced with both his parents watching him, he scrambled to find a satisfying answer. ‘Umm err, may... maybe?’ He looked at his Pappa, who gave him an encouraging smile. Wille nodded and tried to sound more confident, ‘Yes, hopefully, the team is a good one so.’ He trailed off, his mind on exactly who was in that team. He had nothing else to say, but fortunately, the silence was broken, and Kristina and Ludwig had relaxed as Wille fumbled through the answer and seemed content to start up their own conversation again.
After dinner, Wille needed an escape. He wandered through the palace but ended up finding his way to the stables. Wille remembers watching The Little Mermaid. Remembers learning the prince's name was Eric – just like his big brother. He thought it was funny, and so did Erik – at least at first, until Wille spent a whole month singing Part of Your World - and Wille was NOT a good singer. Wille found it so funny in fact, that he decided that when Erik got a dog for his birthday, the dog should be named Max, just like Prince Eric’s dog. It became a running joke, a tradition even, naming pets after characters from The Little Mermaid, and so by the time Erik got a horse, they had already gone through most of the characters, and only Scuttle and Sebastian were left. Erik had decided that Scuttle wasn’t a grand enough name for his grand horse, and had promptly named him Sebastian.
Staring at Seb in his stall Wille felt the all too familiar grief rise up. Breathing in deeply, he felt his head become heavy and tired. Missing Erik was an instinct, and so too was the automatic response of pushing the grief away. Conceal it, don’t feel it. He imagines his emotions are like a bubbling cauldron of colours, held behind a thick glass wall. He puts his emotions there, and he can see them, but not feel them. Deep dark blue for grief, bright ugly yellow for panic, orange for anger all mixing together each vying for supremacy. So long as the glass wall held Wille was Okay. He got by. He didn’t have to feel it, could just watch it. It was like being two separate people, one who felt the storm of emotions, and one who watched the cauldron but didn’t feel it.
As he watched Seb chew his hay, to distract himself Wille’s mind turned to the dinner conversation. The thought of selling Sebastian didn’t sit well with Wille. He couldn’t explain why. He hadn’t ridden since he was fourteen, and Sebastian had been Erik’s horse. Wille had spent very little time with him, between school in Stockholm then Hilleska, Wille was too busy. His father was right. No one else would ride Seb. Of course, the palace staff took the horse out and made sure he was exercised, but without Erik, there was no single person responsible for him. Even knowing this logically, Wille still felt wrong sending Seb away.
Something tickled at the back of Wille’s mind. Thinking of riding made him think of Felice and Sara. And thinking of Sara naturally made him think of Simon. Simon. Of course, somehow everything came back around to Simon. He couldn’t stop thinking about the look on his face at the chapel. Acceptance mixed with hurt and sadness. In a way Wille could handle the sadness and hurt, it was the acceptance that was the worst. How was Wille meant to respond to that? He had burned with rage after learning Mamma knew about August. He wanted to yell and scream, wanted to reject the whole situation. But if Simon could accept it, if Simon could move on, then who was he Prince Wilhelm, Crown Prince of Sweden to deny that? Especially when it was his decision, his choice to deny everything.
Wille had no idea how he was meant to act around Simon after the break. Should they be friends? Could they be friends? Or would it be too hard, too awkward after everything? Wille wasn’t even sure if Simon would still be at Hillerska. The thought of not having Simon in his life at all hurt, but Wille didn’t know what was worse – Simon not being at the school at all, or and having to see Simon every day but not speak with him, not touch him, not share secret intimate glances with him - in class, at lunch, at rowing practise. Wille actually groaned out loud at the thought of rowing. Not only was he going to be faced with either Simon’s absence (if he left the school), or the awkwardness of interacting with Simon, (Fuck, they would have to see each other in the changing room, Wille closed his eyes tightly trying to ignore the image of Simon standing in front of him in only a towel) but rowing would also put Wille back in August’s company. He really wasn’t sure how he would handle August. Punch him? Ignore him? Make awkward small talk with him pretending August hadn’t ruined Willes life only a few weeks ago like Mamma wanted?
All these thoughts swirled through Wille’s head, his mind pinging endlessly back and forth from Simon to August, to Sebastian, to his parents, to Erik. His heart was pounding, his chest was tight and all his muscles were tense. The glass wall keeping his emotions in was breaking. He couldn’t calm his mind. Simon, August, Sebastian, Mamma, Pappa, Erik. He could feel himself spiraling, knew from experience he needed to calm down, but how? Simon, August, Sebastian, Mamma, Pappa, Erik. His breath was coming in shorter and shorter gasps, he felt like he was suffocating. With a gasp, he pushed himself back from the stall and swung his right fist up to hit his chest. Once, twice, three times. Not hard enough to bruise, just enough to hurt. Hitting himself, making himself hurt just a little, seemed to help cut through the mess in his head, slowed it down just for a moment. Simon, August, Sebastian, Mamma, Pappa, Erik. He needed a distraction, something else to think about. He reached up and grabbed his fringe and pulled, tugging at it gave the right level of pain – but it wasn’t enough to stop his thoughts. Simon, August, Sebastian, Mamma, Pappa, Erik.
A soft whicker from Sebastian interrupted his panic. Wille opened his eyes and looked up to find Seb eyeing him, placid, calmly watching him. Staring into Seb’s deep brown eye, Wille felt his mind slowly empty. He noticed the lack of white around the eye, noticed how the white stripe down the middle of Seb’s head wasn’t perfectly straight, saw Seb’s nostrils twitch every now and then, watched as Seb shifted from side to side on his feet. Wille was so focused on observing Sebastian that he forgot to panic. His muscles unclenched and his heart rate slowly began to stabilise. He suddenly felt exhausted.
Wille’s mind leveled out, and the glass wall went back up. He could still feel the panic and grief, but it was lighter, not as loud now safely back behind the wall. Wille felt a surge of gratitude towards Sebastian. He hadn’t really done anything, just stood there being a horse, but somehow that had cut through the panic, it had grounded Wille and at that moment that is exactly what he needed.
‘Thank you, for you know… well you don’t know I suppose, hang on, do horses panic?’ He paused contemplatively ‘Huh. Maybe, if you saw a snake you would panic, I guess. Perhaps.’ A thought occurred to Wille; ‘Or maybe you’re so well trained you don’t ever panic. How do you train someone not to panic?’ Wille realised he was rambling to a horse about anxiety. Sebastian hadn’t reacted at all, just looked at him. Wille smiled self-consciously. ‘Really thanks, Seb.’ He paused, ‘I appreciate it’, Wille had the absurd image of reaching out to shake Sebastian’s hoof, imagined the horse lifting his leg up to shake hands (Hoofs?) nodding solemnly and replying, ‘You’re welcome, I’m here for you if you need me’. For some reason, Sebastian-in-Wille’s-Head had a Scottish accent.
Wille felt laughter bubbling up and before he could catch it, he started laughing. It wasn’t a funny laugh; it was a desperate one. His mind’s meagre attempt at experiencing an emotion other than sadness, but fuck it felt good. Felt good to laugh, to stretch his face muscles into a smile, to throw his head back and laugh until tears came out. These tears he could let fall – they weren’t sad tears, for Simon or Erik, they were happy tears for… Sebastian? His dead brother’s horse? No, they were happy, desperate tears for himself, a brief moment of relief. He laughed for a minute solid before he stopped.
Wille looked in at Sebastian again, the idea of selling him felt so wrong. He leaned in over the stall door and petted Sebastian’s neck and toyed with his mane. He was calmer now and the feel of Sebastian’s fur against his fingers seemed to help keep him grounded. A thought rose quietly in the back of his mind. Wille half paid attention to it and let it become more solid, more real. Why didn’t he take Sebastian? He could take riding classes at Hillerska. That way the horse wouldn’t have to be sold. Even better, if Wille took riding classes, he could stop doing rowing and avoid both August and the awkwardness of encountering Simon. It would kill two birds with one stone. Wille straightened up, pulled back from Sebastian, and started laughing again. Twice in one night, Sebastian a horse (Erik’s horse), had helped him. Wille rubbed Sebastian’s neck once more, let out a rough chuckle then turned to leave the stables. Now all he needed to do was convince Mamma to let him change from rowing to riding. Sebastian continued as he had all night, calmly watching Wille leave and shuffling about in his stall.
The journey from the stables up to his parent’s sitting room was just long enough for Wille to start overthinking everything. By the time he reached the door, his heart was once again pounding, chest tight again and his stomach was in knots. He knew his mother wouldn’t object to him riding – after all horse riding was a suitable hobby for a prince – but he knew his mother would want to know why he wanted to change. Admitting the whole truth (to avoid August, avoid awkwardness with Simon and save Erik’s horse from being sold) seemed ill-advised, especially since Mamma wanted to pretend everything was normal. So Wille came up with excuses, half-truths. The thought of lying to his parents made him feel worse, leaving him on the edge of another panic, all traces of the calm given to him by Sebastian were now gone.
He paused outside the door and took a deep breath. That was a mistake. He had been so amped up until he stopped, running on adrenaline to get him through the door to his parents. Pausing gave his mind a chance to suggest just running away, avoiding the stress of the conversation. He would never have to panic in front of his parents if he never spoke with his parents. For a moment he was tempted. He knew he looked nervous and panicked - face flushed and muscles tense, knew his voice would tremble and that his hands would shake. His parents would see that all, would see and judge it all. Crown Prince Wilhelm, a boy too scared to talk to his own parents. The thought of them seeing the panic, of course, only served to make the panic worse, and Wille turned around to leave. He could wait and see how he felt in the morning.
Deep down, Wille knew that in the morning the conversation would be no different. He would still be nervous, would still tremble and stutter, would still be flushed. He also knew that going to bed this worked up would guarantee a sleepless night. And then he would have to have the conversation while tired. No, just do it now. He shut his eyes and rolled his neck and shoulders, feeling the bones crack against each other, then he took a deep breath turned back to the sitting room, squared his shoulders, bit his lip, and opened the door.
‘Mamma, I want to change my extra activity at school.’ He burst into the room and blurted it out not giving himself a chance to stop and think, ‘I want to do riding instead of rowing. I think it will be good, I don’t really like rowing that much, and I mean I did like riding when I was a kid. Oh and also I was thinking I can take Sebastian and that way you don’t have to worry about selling him. And, riding is good, you know, and,’ He was rambling and he knew it. Judging by the slightly mystified expressions on his parents' faces, they knew it too. ‘and the school's riding program is good and I really don’t want to sell Seb, he’s a perfectly good horse and rowing is kind of boring. So yeah… I think it will be good to you know, change. Yeah a change of scenery, it’ll be - ’
His mother raised her hand and interrupted ‘Wilhelm, slow down, what are you saying? You want to ride Sebastian?’ His parents were sitting on the couch together, when Wille had burst in they had been sitting close against each other, his father's arm around his mother. She had pulled away and they were now both sitting up, with a respectable distance between them. Wille mentally cursed himself for rambling, of course, his Mamma had noticed and had had to ask him to slow down. He glanced down at the floor and inhaled deeply.
‘Yes, I want to stop rowing and instead do riding as my extra school activity. That way you don’t have to sell Sebastian.’ He tried to speak slowly and calmly. He wanted desperately for his parents not to see how on edge he was. His mother seemed a little surprised at Wille’s outburst but didn’t seem offended.
‘Okay,’ his Pappa said slowly, drawing out the word, ‘I remember how much you liked riding as a boy and if that’s what will make you happy then I think it’s a good idea.’ His father was on board, now he just needed Mamma to agree. She was watching Wille, a soft, curious expression on her face, like she was trying to solve a puzzle. Wille didn’t like being a puzzle, especially to his mother, but he took it as a positive sign that she hadn’t said no.
Ludwig was looking at Kristina waiting for her response, and he continued ‘Besides, horse riding can be very beneficial – good exercise and a good experience of having responsibility for another creature, I think it will be good for Wilhelm.’ Kristina looked from Wille to Ludwig and back again, still slightly puzzled, but then she shrugged lightly and nodded. ‘Alright, yes I agree.’
Wille jumped in before she could change her mind ‘Yes, exactly, good for me! And Felice, well she rides and so I can spend more time with her and,’ he paused grasping around for another reason that would convince his mother ‘and I actually like riding and,’ he cut himself off before he could blurt out the real reason. He didn’t want to let go of Erik’s horse. Didn’t want to lose that connection. And somehow that horse had managed to do more to help calm his mind than anything else. But his mother didn’t need to know that. Besides she had already agreed, there was no need to expose himself further.
A small fond smile crept on to Kristina’s face as she looked at Wille. ‘I’ll organise with the school after Christmas, it’s a shame to stop rowing but if you’re sure you don’t like it, then that’s ok.’
Wille felt his shoulders dropping, relaxing he nodded happily ‘Thanks, Mamma.’ Now over the panic, he took in the room, there were half-empty wine glasses on the coffee table, his parents were dressed down in comfortable clothes, there was soft music playing in the background, and both their eyes looked red. It occurred to him that he had interrupted a rare, quiet, private moment between his parents. There was nothing else he needed to say to them, and he got the feeling they wanted to be alone, so he quickly went to the couch, bent down to hug them each and said goodnight.
That night, Wille would replay the conversation in his mind. He would think over (overthink?) every single word he had uttered. How flushed was his face, how much his voice had shuddered, how manic had he looked. He would think back on it and feel a deep well of shame rise up in him. He felt sick and on the edge of tears. How was he supposed to be the Crown Prince (and one day King) if he couldn’t even ask his parents a basic question? He tried distracting himself, opening Instagram and scrolling. He stopped at Simons Christmas post. Simon, Sara and Linda were bunched up together on their couch, all wearing Santa hats and grinning cheekily at the camera, noses scrunched up. Wille stared at Simon for a while, zooming in on his face, he felt a sick longing in his stomach, it became too much and he hastily closed his phone and threw it on his bedside table. He should really try to get to sleep.
He did not sleep well.