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“I hope you have a nice Christmas”
The words reverberated in Wilhelm’s mind as his car took him away from Hillerska, towards the Palace. He turned slightly to watch the church disappear in the distance, where he knew the boy he loved was hugging his sister and probably heading towards the bus stop to go home.
Home . The Palace was his home, on paper. It was where his family lived, his mother, his father. It was where Erik had lived, where all of Erik’s things were lined up as if he still lived, as if he would come back any moment, from some extended state visit to some remote country. But he wouldn’t come back. He’d never sleep in his bed again, he’d never sit at his desk and he’d never slip on the uniform jacket Wille knew to still be on the hanger in his room.
Wille had spent countless hours in the room, trying to hold on to every memory of Erik he could conjure.
Late nights of sneaking into his room, huddling under his blanket and talking all night when he couldn’t sleep because he was nervous about a presentation or a state dinner.
Erik’s tight hugs to comfort and ground Wille when he was anxious about something unexpected happening, about a change in his usual surroundings.
Days of rushing to Erik’s room to tell him about a fascinating thing he learned, and Erik always listening, laughing or nodding along and humouring Wille.
He knew Erik had his own problems, of course. He wasn’t stupid. Erik liked to drive fast, he liked to drink, and he liked to visit his various girls he had secret affairs with. Most of them, the public never knew about. One his mother hadn’t found out about until the press caught Erik with her, and she was promptly bound by an NDA and paid off handsomely to never see the Crown Prince again. Wille knew Erik still visited her when he had left for Hillerska. She was the reason Erik had to leave too early that day.
Now, he suspected Erik might have enjoyed the odd pill or so. The Society seemed to be a breeding ground for casual drug habits, with how easy they had procured and how casually they had handled them. And Erik was part of that rich boy club, just like he was now. “ Ädel och förstfödd man ”. Noble and the first born man .
Wille wasn’t first born. But he was the heir now. An heir to something he never even wanted a part in, that he had fought to be excluded from ever since he was forced to take on a more official role. Something he had rebelled against, which had ultimately led him to come to Hillerska and meet the wonderful and anti-monarchist… well, anti-elite, really, boy who captured his heart. Simon… Simon who he had betrayed. And for what?
For the idea of responsibility, for the idea of doing the right thing, for the possibility to protect himself and Simon from scrutiny and keep what they have - what they had - private. He hadn’t considered the fact that Simon would not want that. That Simon would feel betrayed, that Simon would doubt his devotion and his commitment to him.
He did it for his mother. His mother who had implored him to bury this scandal as well as they could, to deny his involvement and take the heat off him and Simon, to let the waves settle and calm and cover up the fact that he was in love with another boy. Had been intimate with another boy, had pleasured another boy, worshipped him .
His mother, who had known when she picked him up, who had known when he got ready to make the statement… had known that it was his cousin’s work he was denying, that he covered up the crimes of a member of his own family. Who had chosen the family and a second cousin over her own son. Who hadn’t considered his feelings and the risk he took with his relationship and only cared for her own safety and the traditions.
And as the car moved at a steady space towards Stockholm and the Royal Residence, a plan formed in Wille’s mind.
When the car pulled up to the Palace, he methodically buttoned his coat as he got out of the car and moved up the stairs towards the big, curved entryway, the wooden doors he last passed through only a couple days ago. When he still had hope to stay together with Simon, when he believed he still had a loving mother and a cousin he could trust. Now, as he stepped foot into the Palace, he had none of that. He didn’t have a boyfriend, he didn’t have a cousin, and for all he could care, he didn’t have a mother. Or a father. Because where had his father been in all this? He had been just as passive, just as silent and complicit as always.
Farima awaited him, clipboard with his itinerary in hand. “Your Highness, welcome home. I have your schedule for today, first you are to meet her Majesty-”
“I will do no such thing.” Wille simply kept walking, and Farima rushed on her heels to keep pace and follow him as he climbed the stairs towards his hallway.
“Her Majesty explicitly requested-”
“I don’t care what she requested. You can tell her that I have no desire to speak with her.”
Farima stopped for a moment, no doubt stunned at his words, before she hurried to keep up and close the distance. “Well, you still have a few more items. There is a meeting for the Jul-Gala, and a photoshoot for-”
“I am tired from the journey, and I don’t feel too well. Please clear my schedule for today, I am sure my mother and you can handle the meetings.”
And with that, he left her standing in his hallway, closing the large two-winged door in her face and locking it.
His room was just as he had left it two days ago, on Sunday. The cleaning ladies had been through and picked up his laundry, and it all looked a bit more pristine as he had left it. He hated it. Someone had been in his space, touched his things, without his knowledge or permission. He hadn’t minded before, but he did now. He would need to issue an order to the staff to not touch his room anymore.
He quickly shrugged off his coat and his suit. A wide T-shirt and sweatpants soon replaced the stiff and itchy fabric against his skin, soothing his stimulated nerves. With a sigh, he sank onto the bed he had sat on three days ago, just before he had shrugged on a suit and walked to the interview, still debating what to say, how to handle the situation, and all the ramifications of either of his options. He had chosen wrong, he knew that now. But back then, he had acted on his best knowledge. Knowledge that meant nothing now that he was aware that his mother had deliberately lied, had withheld crucial information.
No, he couldn’t forgive her for this. If she had told him, he would have decided otherwise. He would have exposed August publicly, even if it meant confirming his involvement. He could have protected his relationship with Simon, instead, it was ruined now. And it was all her fault. Hers, and August’s.
At dinner, he sat silently as his mother and father asked about school, about how he was settling in. Questions they hadn’t bothered asking when he was home for over a month. His mother’s voice dripped of fake concern, sweet and innocent, trying to conceal what she had done, hide it away and ignore her shortcomings, like always. Pretending everything was alright. He would not have it.
His father stayed silent, mostly, watching him with large eyes, gaze flickering to the Queen once in a while as he cut his steak. What else did Wilhelm expect from a man that had given up everything, including his own spine, and devoted everything he was and had to the woman who was responsible for Wille’s misery.
He ignored both of their calls as he got up from the table without a word, his food barely touched. He simply walked out and walked the hallways towards the stairs to Erik’s bedroom.
At the bottom of the stairs, he stopped himself, staring up the steep incline towards the white door that shielded Erik’s room from the harsh realities on the outside.
He hadn’t stepped foot in it since he had left for Hillerska. Since before Erik…
And again, today he couldn’t bear the thought of ascending these stairs and walking into the room that once belonged to his older brother. He knew it would be just how he had left it. Clean, tidy, his uniform jacket hung over the valet stand, his cufflinks in the little tray of it.
Everything would be in its place. Except Erik. Erik would never be where he belonged again.
With a dull ache in his chest, Wille sank onto the first step, staring into the hallway as he allowed himself to feel the emptiness his brother had left behind and that Simon had filled before August and his mother had ruined everything.
It was past midnight when Wilhelm slipped back into his rooms, walking past the suitcases someone had carried up for him to quickly strip to his boxers before he slipped between the soft sheets to drift off to dreams in which Simon was still his.
Soft skin against his. Noses touching, rubbing against each other as his breath ghosted across WIlle’s lips. Eyes closed, but he could feel him, feel his fingers on his body, on his neck, playing with the long tresses of hair that always fell into his eyes. Tracing his face, smoothing over his eyebrow and his temple, to come to rest on his jaw.
Slowly, Wilhelm blinked open his eyes. For a moment, he was still in the bliss of his dream, feeling the ghost of Simon’s touch, could feel Simon’s soft curls between his own fingers. But the more he blinked into the harsh winter morning light, the more the dream disappeared, became nothing more but a haunting memory of what he had lost. Because of his mother and her lies.
The knocking on the door that had ripped Wilhelm from his dream grew more incessant, Farima’s voice calling out for him. Sighing, he got up and slipped the same shirt and sweatpants on again that he had worn the day before. He could still change after a shower.
When he finally tore open the door to glare at Farima, she had her arm lifted to knock again. She hesitated for a moment, blinking at his casual attire, before she dropped her arm and cleared her throat. “Your schedule for today, Your Highness. The photoshoot we postponed yester-”
“I am still not feeling well, cancel the photoshoot.”
Farima fixed him with an intense gaze, calculating before she spoke again. “I will, if you agree to meet with the event team for the Jul-Gala and get ready for the final fitting of your suit for the Gala right away. And your mother already declared your presence at the Gala to be non-negotiable.”
Wilhelm could only sigh and nod before he closed the door in Farima’s face. He knew he was doing her a disservice, she was none of the guilty parties, she just carried out his mother’s instructions. And still…
Freshly showered and groomed, he stood stock still as the tailor pinched and prodded at him, pulling the fabric of the tuxedo and smoothing over any imperceptible creases. Farima stood by, nodding happily whenever Wille cast a glance her way. Finally, the tailor took a step back and beamed proudly. “Yes, yes, it fits perfectly. I’m sure the Crown Prince will look impeccable at the Gala on Christmas Day.”
Farima seemingly agreed, and they began speaking softly between themselves as Wille took a moment to watch himself in the mirror. The boy staring back at himself looked nothing like himself, eyes hollow and tired, any happiness he might have felt drained from his face. He tried to give one of his princely smiles, but he could barely lift the corners of his mouth, much less open the lips to show his upper row of teeth.
To Wilhelm, his heartbreak was written all over his face and body. It wouldn’t have been more obvious if a bright neon sign flashed over his head, declaring it to the whole world. Still, Farima complimented him as his valet Sven helped him take off the tuxedo and hung it neatly in the garment bag to receive a final press for the event in two days. Just as he was about to take off his shirt and pants, she turned to leave the room, only glancing back once more to utter “Oh, also, the Queen requests your presence in her offices to discuss the new school year.”
Wille tensed for a moment, his jaw setting. “Please tell Her Majesty that I have nothing to discuss with her,” he spat, fixing Farima with a hard stare under which she could only nod and leave the room.
Of course he wasn’t spared for long, of course his mother was present at the meeting he had been convinced to attend, and of course as it was concluded and everyone stood to leave, she called out to him. “Wilhelm, would you stay behind for a moment?” Without a glance back, he walked past her, shaking off her hand that tried to grab onto his sleeve and ignoring her imploring “Wilhelm!”
Dinner was tense again, his mother unusually silent and his father forcibly happy and talkative. He spoke of nothing of importance, the weather, how big the cook’s son had gotten at age 4, and how well the food tasted.
Finally, Wille’s sighed softly, causing Ludvig to close his mouth with a small clicking of teeth. “Wilhelm, we need to discuss your next term at Hillerska…” She was interrupted by the sound of a chair scraping across the floor as Wille abruptly got up and left the table, his plate still half full. He ignored the calls of both his mother and father, opting instead to roam the hallways until he found himself at the stairs again. The stairs he could barely even think of climbing. Still, he lifted his foot and climbed the first step, before his strength left him again and he stopped in his tracks, staring up at the stairs that looked over him menacingly. He swayed gently as he fought the nausea building in his chest, before he sunk onto the second step and remained for the rest of the evening.
Christmas Eve. The first one without Erik. The first one where Wille was all alone, no one to call or text or share the christmas spirit with. His old friends from public school hadn’t texted him once, and only replied very monosyllabic if he texted first. Simon didn’t want anything to do with him, even if he tried texting or calling him, he was sure Simon would just block his number. He had lost everyone. Except Felice.
W: Merry Christmas Felice.
F: Merry Christmas Wille ❤️
W: ❤️
F: How are you?
W: Crap honestly. You?
F: Kinda the same, bad vibes at home with mom and dad
W: Same
F: Have you talked?
W: No
F: What are you doing for New Year’s?
W: Don’t know
F: I’ll probably go to a New Year’s party at Stella’s if you want to join?
W: Is August coming?
F: Bleuuuh no
W: Haha
Felice’s reaction actually made Wille chuckle. At least someone understood him. At least he had one person in his corner.
Both his parents tried to put on brave faces. They tried to smile and laugh, sharing memories of all the previous Christmas celebrations. As newlyweds, and when the boys were small, before Kristina was crowned.
They couldn’t fool Wilhelm though. He could see the unshed tears in Kristina’s eyes, hear the slight waver in Ludvig’s voice. He wasn’t the only one missing Erik. Erik would have teased his father about the placement of the ornaments on the Christmas tree, and would have reminded their mother that she better not try to touch the gifts underneath it to guess what she would be getting. Kristina didn’t move towards the presents this year. And Ludvig carefully thought about the placement of each ornament. And it stung.
Instead of engaging, instead of trying to cheer up his parents, Wille just sat on the sofa in the family apartment in the palace, trying his best to drown out their chatting and attempt to hide their grief. Another lie, another hidden weakness that no one was allowed to let slip. Even here, between just the three of them, they couldn’t just be honest for once. Even here, they kept up appearances and the deception. Even here, they couldn’t show any weakness.
Wilhelm remained silent, even as they opened presents and he watched the glimmer or his new monogrammed cufflinks in the candle light. Not a word left his lips, no thanks, no word of acknowledgment. As soon as the gifts had been opened, he rose to his feet to leave his protesting parents behind, his feet carrying him to the stairs. The cufflinks remained in their box, lying on the uncomfortable palace sofa where he had sat.
And silent he remained as he dodged his mother’s requests to talk, both when Farima delivered the message as well as when his mother stopped by his rooms, her pleading to talk to her growing more and more desperate and agitated. Good. She deserved it, she deserved the feeling of her only remaining son ignoring her existence. Everyday, he missed Simon and Erik more and more, and every day, he took another step further towards Erik’s room before he had to stop himself and sit down on the steps. Everyday he fought to reach that room that once held so many fond moments, of him sneaking to Erik’s room when he had a nightmare, of late nights with ice cream and a movie, watched secretly on Erik’s laptop as their mother didn’t approve of televisions in the bedroom.
Silent he remained after he told Farima to let the barber come, as he wanted to get a haircut. His mother tried to inquire into his plans, probably worried about what he was trying to do. As if he would deliberately ruin his appearance when he needed to fight to get Simon back in the new term. No, in truth he just needed something new, something else . Something to maybe, just maybe be able to feel closer to Erik, feel more ready to step into the big shoes he now had to fill.
It was the morning of the day he was supposed to leave for Hillerska that he was finally able to make it all the way to Erik’s room. And of course his mother followed him, taking the steps as if it was nothing, as if it hadn’t taken him all of 16 days to climb the 21 steps. And again she was pleading, begging Wilhelm to talk to her. And again, Wille closed the door in her face, shutting her out as he took in the room he hadn’t stepped in for the past 15 weeks.
It was just like he had imagined. Everything was in its place, tidy and clean, the uniform jacket on the valet stand, the small glass bowl with his golden cufflinks. The big frog statue and the picture frames on his desk, the photographs tucked into the wooden frame of Erik’s mirror. Gustaf III watched as he scrapped himself in Erik’s uniform jacket, inhaling the last remaining whiffs of Erik’s scent. The last time he would be able to smell him, to feel like Erik was hugging him. The next time he would be here, the lingering scent would be gone. Just as gone as Erik was. He would lose him all over again. Just like he had lost everything he had thought to be true. He had lost the trust into August that Erik had instilled in him. He had lost the delusion of his mother actually caring for him and doing what was best for him. And he had lost the love of his life, the boy who had made all of it worth it, who had held him and comforted him and forgiven him for trying to shut him out. The wonderful, angelic boy with the dark curls and even darker eyes, who held his heart and would never relinquish it. And just like everything else, he had lost him, and he might never get him back…