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The weight of his mother’s hand on his shoulder was the most crushing thing Wilhelm had ever felt. It scorched his skin as though he had been caught in the rubble of a burning house. It’s fitting for the situation, he thought.
He fought the instinct to shrug her off. He reminded himself that it was very unlikely that his mother would want to touch him kindly even ten minutes from now. Was it a kind touch? The way her palm rooted him to the spot felt anything but empathetic.
“Remember what we talked about,” his mother said. Wilhelm nodded, sucking in a shallow breath. Then her hand was ushering him forward, and his feet led him to the large parlor they used for interviews.
“Hello, thank you for letting me interview you today,” the journalist said. “It’s a pleasure, Crown Prince.” Wilhelm gave her his best royal smile, taking her hand in his and shaking it firmly.
“Thank you.” He left it at that, releasing her palm and swiftly taking a seal in his chair. The cushion was too firm, melding with his body in all of the wrong ways. He flipped one leg over the other and clasped his hands together in his lap. Be calm. Be collected. He had to take the lead.
After receiving a thumbs-up from the cameraman, the interviewer turned to Wilhelm and flashed him a superficial smile.
“Are you ready?” Wilhelm ran his hands through his hair and wiped his clammy palms on his pants. He couldn’t seem to get a full breath; his chest had no room for oxygen. His heart was beating in his throat. A nod was all he could supply.
The cameraman said, “We’re live in three,” and began to silently count down with his fingers. As soon as the red light started flashing, the interviewer turned into a predator chasing her prey. Wilhelm could see his mother smiling from the other room.
The interviewer asked him a few pleasant questions to start, but it was obvious to everyone that they were simply greeting each other rather than the elephant in the room. Wilhelm wished she would get it over with already; charisma in the face of a camera was never his strong suit.
“Now, if I can ask you a personal question, was it you in the video?” The journalist asked, leaning towards him with a look of encroaching curiosity. Wilhelm could only hope that his face didn’t betray the disgust he felt churning in his gut.
This was the moment that he would deny it. He would clutch the arms of the chair, throw a sympathetic face at the camera, and then he would go on a tangent about how everyone should be who they are, but the Crown Prince isn’t like that. The interview would end shortly after, and Wilhelm would be his nation’s biggest liar.
He uncrossed his legs and sat up seriously, clenching his fists on his shaking legs. This was the moment his mother was waiting for in the other room. This was the moment that the news channels were waiting to grab. He looked up at the camera.
“It was me,” Wilhelm said.
The blank look on the interviewer’s face made it evident that she had no idea he would be straying from the script. The cameraman was desperately trying to catch her eyes, looking frantically from the still running camera to the other people in the wings. Wilhelm didn’t spare a glance to the doorway to the other room where he knew his mother would be stricken cold.
“It would be easy to lie and say that it wasn’t me,” he continued with a firm voice (even though he was trembling). “But I feel that I owe my people the truth. I know that there are young people out there who need to know that there is no shame in loving someone of the same gender.”
The interviewer had somewhat recovered now, and she was nodding along enthusiastically (her smile was too strained, though, and it was obvious she was simply following him the best she could). The cameraman had obviously given up and was just focusing on getting a good shot.
“I am just like any other teen my age. I am like any other person in love. Loving another man doesn’t change me in any way. I am still the Crown Prince, and I will continue to perform my duties to the utmost of my ability.”
Wilhelm considered whether he should continue. After a moment of hesitation, he said, “I have no idea who shot that video, but they will be found and held accountable. At this time, I’m asking that you allow me and my partner privacy. Please don’t speculate on my partner’s identity or my sexuality. Thank you.”
He flashed a genuine, albeit shaky, smile at the camera. The flashing red light turned off, and the interviewer sighed and deflated. Wilhelm rolled his shoulders back and refused to think about what lay beyond the threshold of the parlor.
“Thank you,” he said to the interviewer. Then he stood up.
-
Simon was finally relaxing and having some fun when Ayub suddenly stopped in the middle of the game they were playing.
“Oh shit,” he said. Everyone at the table looked at him expectantly. Simon felt his stomach turn; he had just managed to get his attention away from his stressful situation.
“What?” Sara asked. Simon was trying to reassure himself that it wouldn’t be anything involving him.
“The Crown Prince says, ‘it was me’ in the video,” Ayub read. “The Royal Court confirms the rumors that the Crown Prince appears in the video that has gone viral this past week.” Ayub continued reading, but Simon tuned out.
“Excuse me,” he said. He rushed out of the room and into his bedroom, almost tripping over his feet in his haste. He scrambled to get his phone out and dial Wilhelm’s number, only to see two missed messages.
Chaos at the palace
I’ll call you when I can
Simon took a deep breath and collapsed onto his bed, flipping onto his stomach and choosing his words carefully.
Okay
I’ll be here
You did so well
I’m so proud of you
He hoped that Wilhelm would understand how sincere his words were. Simon’s heart was frantically beating in his chest, and he was overwhelmed in the best way possible. And it was in that moment, as Wilhelm sent Simon a purple heart, and the world was scrutinizing the both of them at the highest level, that Simon realized he loved Wilhelm.
He was in love with him.
Simon returned to his friends and family with a stunning smile on his face and with his heart in a palace in Stockholm.
-
“You have ruined your reputation!” The Queen screamed. “Can’t you see that? This will stay with you for the rest of your life!” She was pacing quickly in front of the couch Wilhelm sat on. The King was across the room with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and the other cradling his forehead.
“I can’t pretend forever!” Wilhelm shouted. “And I’m not going to be someone else just to protect the fucking crown.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, show some goddamn respect!” The King yelled. “This isn’t about you, it’s so much bigger. This affects all of us!” His face seemed more resigned than angry. It was laced with disappointment, his eyes screaming I expected better from you.
“Neither of you have ever shown me any respect! Why should I have to show you any?” Wilhelm rose to his feet, fighting the urge to pull at his hair. This is okay. I’m okay. Suddenly, his mom stopped pacing and turned around to face him. Her face was impassive.
“How do you think Erik would feel about this?” She said quietly. “Knowing that his brother acted completely selfishly and ruined his legacy. You are the Crown Prince. You should be honored, and instead, you can’t even go a month without a scandal!“
At the mention of Erik, Wilhelm’s shoulders tensed. She was right, wasn’t she? He was nothing compared to Erik. But even then, while thinking of the effects his words would have on the Swedish monarchy, he couldn’t feel remorse. He had done what he needed to. He had done what Simon needed him to.
“I’m leaving,” Wilhelm said suddenly. He threw a look to Malin and walked quickly past both his mother and father.
“You can’t just-“ the Queen started, but he wasn’t listening. He was already out of the room and into the hallway. Malin was handing him his coat.
He knew where he was going. He knew where he belonged.
-
It had been about an hour since the interview aired when Simon heard a knock on the door. Ayub and Rosh had just left, and Sara and his mother were doing dishes together in the kitchen. Simon hesitated, thinking it might be another journalist. He couldn’t stand to see another reporter banging down his door.
He quietly stepped up to the window and opened the curtains just slightly. When he saw Wilhelm wrapped in a coat and scarf with bodyguards behind him, Simon flew to the door and yanked it open. The cold December air slapped him in the face, but it was a welcomed feeling.
Wilhelm was standing with his hands in his pockets, his chin tucked into a thick scarf poking out of his coat. He was scuffing his foot back and forth on the ground, and his cheeks were flush from the cold (or something else, for all Simon knew).
“Wille,” Simon said quietly. He tried to tone down his smile, but he was sure it was blinding. Wilhelm’s eyes crinkled, and although Simon couldn’t see his mouth, he knew Wilhelm was mirroring him in joy. “Come inside.” He ushered all three of them in, watching as they unwrapped themselves from bundles of warmth.
As Wilhelm’s bodyguards migrated to the kitchen to chat with Linda, Simon grabbed Wilhelm’s hand and dragged him to his bedroom. He almost felt like a giggly child leading a friend to his room for a sleepover.
As soon as they were safely inside of Simon’s room, Wilhelm wrapped his arms around Simon’s waist and dropped his head onto the other’s shoulder. He pressed a kiss to Simon’s neck. Together, like two pieces of a puzzle, Simon felt like they could do anything. They could get through anything as long as they could fit together like this.
“How is it?” Simon said quietly. He felt a groan against his shoulder and had to stifle a giddy laugh. Wilhelm raised his head and shot Simon a joking glare.
“We’re lucky I’m their only option for an heir,” he joked. Simon frowned slightly, but then Wilhelm was speaking again. “It’s not too bad, kind of what I was expecting. They’re angry, obviously, but,” he stopped to tuck a piece of Simon’s hair back. “They’ll survive.”
Simon placed his hands on Wilhelm’s cheeks and felt him lean into the touch. It was perfect like this, Simon thought. Just the two of them in the golden light of Simon’s bedroom, content to stay in their own little world. Wilhelm looked at him with half-lidded eyes.
“Simon,” Wilhelm said, and then he ducked down to kiss him.
The kiss was equal amounts tender and longing. It spoke of pure joy and burdens lifted. When they broke apart, and they stood sharing each other’s air, Simon’s eyes flicked up to Wilhelm’s. For a moment, he just stared in awe of where they were.
“We’re gonna get through this,” Simon said firmly. Wilhelm snapped his eyes up from Simon’s lips and nodded.
“Because we’re together,” Wilhelm replied. And, as cheesy as it sounded, Simon supposed it was right. Separately, their flaws would often overwhelm them, but together, they flourished.
It wouldn’t be easy, they both knew that. They knew that they were being selfish, that this was beyond them. They also knew that they had a choice. That night, as Simon looked into Wilhelm’s eyes, he knew that they were going to be fine.
Wilhelm and Simon were going to rise from the ashes, and they were going to do it together.