Archive of Our Own ^beta

Erik was tossing a hot baby bottle back and forth between his hands when Wilhelm walked into the kitchen of their apartment. “Malin and Ida made meatballs if you’re hungry, gubben,” he said, trying not to burn himself on the milk he’d obviously microwaved for too long. This was becoming an embarrassing habit, actually. Wilhelm had walked in on this same exact situation at least three times this week. “I’m sure you ate with Felice, though.” 

Wilhelm nodded his head and brought his thumb to his mouth to idly tap his teeth against his nail. It was a better habit than biting them, at least. He had been increasingly more anxious over the last week or two and Erik, as always, had taken notice. Even more so now than before — since two years ago, when he and Wilhelm had moved into their own apartment outside of Drottningholm. Erik picked up on every little detail about Wilhelm now. Or at least he did, until he and Ebba had gotten special permission for surrogacy from the Riksdag. Erik had a hard time remembering details about himself recently. 

He had mostly assumed Wilhelm’s anxiety came from the holidays. They’d managed to get him out of the Royal Family “holiday festivities” for the last two years, but this year the royal court had insisted. They had all tried to keep up appearances for the public for about a year or so after Wille and Erik moved out, but after the wedding, the princes had pretty much stopped trying, and the royal court was fed up.

So, for the first time in over a year, Wilhelm had seen Kristina. It hadn’t been pleasant, but it had been cordial. A nod of the head here, a glance across the room there. And Simon had been there, so it hadn’t been too bad. Not as bad as it could have been.

When the holidays had passed, and Wilhelm continued to be anxious, Erik reasoned it must have been from his upcoming final term at Hillerska. He knew it was a big deal. It was all any of Wille’s friends had talked about when they came over a couple of weeks ago. Erik remembered his final term at Hillerska about as well as any father of a two-month-old could remember anything. So, at the current moment, not very well at all.

But Wilhelm must have been squirming. As far as Erik knew, Wille didn’t have many plans for after Hillerska. There was an expectation for him to complete military service, but none of them — including the people asking him to do it — actually wanted him to do it. Wille and firearms didn’t really go well together. Wille and high-stress situations didn’t really go well together. And then there was the added stress of not knowing where Simon was going to end up yet — though Erik was sure his lillebror was going to follow him wherever it was. 

“Can we uh — can we talk, actually?” Wille asked. 

“I already said you could use my green luggage.” This was a topic of conversation that had been brought up more than once in the last week. When Wilhelm asked to talk, Erik’s mind filled in the blanks, and recently those blanks had been about packing, luggage, and what Wilhelm could conceivably manage to fit inside his already heavily decorated dorm room. “Just make sure it comes back in one piece — unlike the black set that you let Henry sit in.” 

Wille shook his head, but Erik was far too invested in screwing on the top of the bottle to notice the frustrated action. “No, Erik, it’s kind of important, actually. Can you listen?” 

The rational part of Erik’s brain would have told Wille to wait a couple of minutes. The rational part of Erik’s brain would have told Wille that this exact moment wasn’t the best time, but he could make it work in about twenty minutes if he was willing to stick around.

As it was, the rational part of Erik’s brain had shut down after about twelve hours of sleep deprivation, and even from the other side of the very large apartment, he could hear Ebba trying to calm down their crying child. So nothing rational came out of his mouth. Instead, he snapped. “I don’t have time for this right now, Wilhelm.” Erik turned towards the door of the kitchen. The bottle in his hand was still a little warm, but it would do as long as he let it sit for another few minutes. He had just managed to push open the door when— 

“I’m going to abdicate.” 

Erik froze for a moment, the words echoing over and over again in his head. He took a minute just to make sure his sleep deprived brain hadn’t made that up. And when he finally realized he hadn’t made it up, he couldn’t think of anything else. The words repeated themselves again. The word repeated itself again and again and again: abdicate. Abdicate. Abdicate. I’m going to abdicate.

Erik let the door close in front of his face, and then he threw the burping towel over his shoulder, set the bottle on the counter, and took a seat on one of the bar stools. 

“I now have time for this.” Because he did. He had time for this. Wilhelm had just said the words Erik had been expecting for years, and he had time for this. Because princes didn’t just abdicate out of nowhere, and he had time for this . 

Abdicate. Abdicate. Abdicate.

I’m going to abdicate.

Erik would make time for this. He’d fucking stop time for this. There was nothing more important — well, yes, there was, but it didn’t matter. None of it mattered right now.

Wilhelm leaned forward on the other side of the counter and stared at his hands. He had been trying to find a way to bring this up for a week, and absolutely nothing had come from his efforts. He left for school in two days and at this point he was desperate. They needed to talk about this, and it was either now or not until graduation, which would be far too late. In his ideal world, things would start moving into place almost immediately. In his ideal world, he wouldn’t be a prince come summer holidays. 

“Take a deep breath, Wille,” Erik encouraged. 

He did. Wille took deep breath after deep breath, following the rise and fall of Erik’s chest as a guide and gulping down the air as if it were water. His anxiety had gotten better since they moved to this apartment a little over an hour outside of Stockholm, and since Erik had forced him to start seeing Boris once a week, but he still had moments. He still had bad moments that had landed him on the floor of his dorm room, being rocked back and forth by Simon, who somehow always knew what happened before Wille told him. He had always been the one who could catch the foreshock of every volcanic eruption. 

The anxiety hadn’t just disappeared, and it likely never would. 

But it was better now. The storm was easing. 

The world and time turned outside the kitchen, but inside it felt like everything had stopped. It was just the gentle hum of the dishwasher and the pounding in both of their chests — each of them nervous for a different reason. They both knew this conversation was coming. Maybe they’d pushed it back to the deepest parts of their subconscious to ignore the blaring problems that came with it, but they both knew this conversation was years in the making. Nearly decades.

Erik leaned over and nudged one of Wille’s fingers, forcing his little brother’s gaze to snap up and meet his. “Talk to me, kiddo.” 

Wille inhaled deeply, filling his lungs over and over with an air that didn’t feel like it quite kept him breathing. He toyed with the cross around his neck and then nodded once to himself. “I want to marry Simon.” 

Erik hung his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jesus, kid. How many life changing decisions are you going to drop on me tonight?” 

“No, listen, it’s relevant,” Wille insisted. He let out a loud huff and ran his hands through his hair. He had grown it out again after chopping it off in the middle of the night, shortly after he’d come out. Simon’s nagging (and many complaints about it being too short) encouraged him to let it reach ‘flopping length’ again. Erik thought it suited him well. Ebba did, too. Wilhelm just appreciated having the length back to run his fingers through when he was nervous. “Coffee?” 

He turned on his heel and started rifling through the cabinets, pulling out two mugs and a bag of espresso grounds. His older brother watched with plain confusion on his face, but wasn’t going to pass up on the opportunity to have one of Wilhelm’s famous cappuccinos — something he’d grown quite skilled at making now that he had a kitchen he wasn’t worried about making a mess in. 

A lot of things had changed since they’d moved out of Drottningholm, actually. Erik and Ebba had chosen the apartment because it was almost to Bjärstad. It was close to Wille and far away from Kristina, and that was what they needed. So when Wilhelm finished his first year of Hillerska, he moved right in with them. He never went back to Drottningholm for more than one or two nights during the wedding week. Erik had packed his things, and Erik had set up his new room in the apartment, and Erik made the decisions now. 

And that worked for them. Ludvig would come visit when he had time, and Kristina was never invited. Wilhelm spent most holidays with the Erikssons — especially the ones that required Erik and Ebba to be with Kristina — and their apartment wasn’t too far from Simon’s house, which meant Simon was over often. The only time Wilhelm had seen his mother after he came out was at Erik’s wedding and then, more recently, at Christmas this year. And even then, they stayed far, far away from each other. 

If the tabloids had noticed the clear split down the middle of the family, they hadn’t talked about it. Erik suspected Kristina had paid off the press, but he couldn’t prove it. He didn’t really want to, actually. The less he knew about Kristina, the better. 

Mostly, the changes were in Wilhelm. He was more confident now. More himself. Erik had been so damn proud of him the first time he hadn’t hesitated to hold Simon’s hand outside of Hillerska. And then he was equally proud the first time he hadn’t hesitated to kiss him. Wille invited friends over now, and went to parties and didn’t get drunk at them, and he allowed himself to have fun. He allowed himself to be young. He was also willing to voice his opinions now, and he would tell people when he was getting overwhelmed — when he needed to take a breather. He would tell people other than Erik, Ebba, and Simon.

Moving out of Drottningholm was the best decision Erik had ever made for his family. 

It was a fact he’d not once questioned. It was a fact he was still absolutely sure about when Wilhelm — nervous as ever — slid a cappuccino across the counter to him. Wille hadn’t looked this nervous in a long time. He was jumpy, fidgety, acutely aware of every moving, ticking thing around him. He avoided eye contact, slowly taking a sip of his own drink and then resting it on the counter before beginning to pick at his thumb.

Wilhelm cleared his throat, starting back where he’d ended before. “I want to marry Simon and… and as it is, I have to ask for permission.” His voice shook slightly, and Erik resisted the urge to reach out for him. “I have to ask permission — from the Riksdag, the court, from Kristina — and I don’t… I don’t think they’re ever going to let me be with a boy.” 

That had been a concern of Erik’s since the beginning — even since the earliest days of knowing Simon. On that first phone call when he’d seen Wille’s face light up as he walked into the room. That had been Erik’s first concern, but he had momentarily let it melt away because goddammit, at least Wilhelm was happy.

And when everything had gone down with the video two years ago, it had resurfaced as Erik’s main concern. Sure, the court couldn’t do anything about Wilhelm’s statement about the video, but they had every opportunity to block his “particular lifestyle” after he’d made it. Erik had fought tooth and nail to keep that from happening — a little blackmail thrown in to test his soul — and he had won.  

That didn’t mean Wilhelm didn’t still worry, though. Being with Simon and marrying Simon were drastically different. A difference that Wilhelm didn’t think they’d ever accept. No matter how many events he suffered through, how many statements he made, or how many members of the government he cozied up to, he didn’t think it would ever be enough for them. He already knew Kristina would try to block it — she already had.  

“Simon is it for me, Erik. We all know that.” 

Erik nodded his head and took a sip from the — frankly, spectacular — cappuccino Wilhelm had made him. He did know that Simon was it. He’d known since the day he’d met Simon, and he’d especially known since Wilhelm’s statement about the video — since the day Wilhelm came out for that boy.

Erik had known then, and he knew now. He knew it every time Simon walked through the front door with a holler and left his shoes in the entryway. He knew it every time Simon stayed the night in Wilhelm’s bed, and every time he was unexpectedly at breakfast in the morning. He knew it every time Wilhelm spent the night in Bjärstad so he could go to football games, and eat bad Thai food, and feed Simon’s fish. He knew it after their very first fight, after which Wilhelm had shown up at Simon’s house in the rain to apologize. He knew it every holiday and school event and party where Wilhelm and Simon had stuck to each other’s sides. He knew Simon was it.  

He knew. Everyone who knew Simon and Wilhelm did.

“But if… if for some reason he’s not — if we broke up or grew apart, I guess — I don’t know if there would be a girl.” Wilhelm didn’t talk about his sexuality often. Erik had learned to just listen and not ask. He hated labels, he hated explaining it, and Erik respected that. So he never asked, and this was probably the first time Wilhelm was choosing to speak about it besides mentioning offhanded celebrity crushes. “Maybe. I — I mean, there might be a girl. But I don’t want to count on that. I wouldn’t count on that, even if it wasn’t Simon. They are, though. They are counting on me breaking up with Simon and finding a girl. And that — that’s just not going to happen.” 

Wille flicked his mug — a nervous habit Erik had noticed he’d recently gained. His concerns were very real. They both knew it. Being outside of Drottningholm had taken Wille and Simon away from the people trying to block their relationship, but that didn’t mean those people didn’t still exist. Wilhelm’s public Instagram hadn’t been updated since before the video came out two years ago. The PR team was still in Kristina’s pocket, and she didn’t want anyone to ask about Simon in the comments of a new post that certainly would not involve him. 

They did have hope that Wilhelm would break it off with Simon. They held out hope that Wilhelm would move on from his silly high school love affair and find an heiress that they could mold to their liking. And that, quite frankly, wasn’t going to happen. 

Last week, Erik had walked into the kitchen and found Wille and Simon slow dancing in front of the fridge like they’d been married for sixty years — they weren’t breaking up. 

Erik reached out across the counter and took his little brother’s hand. “Kiddo… if that’s what you’re worrying about — don’t.” Don’t worry. Never worry. He had dedicated the last two years of his life — probably longer — to making sure Wilhelm didn’t have to worry about this kind of thing. He had it handled . “I already talked to everyone you’d need to get permission from, and they’re on board. They’d overturn it if Kristina tried to object, and even if they couldn’t, she agreed to step down at 75.” It was a condition of Erik not going public with what he knew about August. That Kristina would step down by the time she turned 75. If not, Erik would tell the press everything.

Wilhelm scoffed and rolled his eyes. It was an action he’d become quite skilled at, now that he wasn’t worried about Kristina pulling them out of his head every time he tried. Erik was used to that eye-roll these days. His teenage kid, and all. “That’s in ten years, Erik. You want me to wait until I’m almost thirty to even consider getting married? You were twenty-two.” 

Erik shook his head. All things considered, Erik was young when he and Ebba got married. He was still young. It just made sense at the time. They were living together, they were raising a teenager together, and they wanted a baby. It made sense for them to get married last year. But they were young, and they had probably rushed themselves. Definitely rushed themselves.

And while Wilhelm wasn’t going to rush himself like Erik had, he also wasn’t going to put it off until he was thirty-five years old for the sake of outliving his mother’s disapproval. 

“It’s not going to come to that, Wille. That’s the absolute worst-case scenario.” 

“Erik, you and I both know I would have gotten married on my eighteenth birthday had Simon agreed,” he snapped. It wasn’t a particularly aggressive snap, but Wilhelm had snapped. He just briefly met his older brother’s eyes before huffing and shifting his attention back to the coffee cup in his hands. “You can’t possibly ask me to wait until we’ve been together for thirteen years to consider getting married.” It was rather impressive, how he didn’t curl away into himself after a snap. No, not any more. He could recognize what had happened, take a breath, and keep going. 

It was true. He didn’t expect him to wait that long. Erik didn’t expect Wilhelm to have to wait any longer than he wanted to. The fact of the matter — as unfortunate as it was — was that in the worst-case scenario, Wille would have to wait until Kristina had no power to block him. But Erik couldn’t see that happening. He still had all those years of blackmail material, and his mother knew he wasn’t afraid to use it. 

“You won’t have to wait that long, Wille,” Erik insisted. He could feel this conversation aging him. He was sure gray hairs were growing rapidly. “And I’m not asking you to wait until you’ve been together for thirteen years. I am asking you to wait longer than two. Abdication isn’t going to change that request. You are, unfortunately, still a child.” 

Wilhelm had half a brain to argue that he wasn’t a child. He hadn’t been a child for several months now. He was legally an adult. But he knew exactly what Erik meant. Wilhelm was still in school, he still lived in Erik’s house, Erik made his meals, and Erik did his laundry. Wilhelm was physically and legally an adult, but he was still just a kid. He still found himself looking for “grown-ups” when he was out in public.

So he considered arguing with his older brother, but he didn’t. He knew it would have been a lost cause. He was still a kid. So instead, he moved on to his next point. “It’s not just wanting to get married, though. It’s… everything. It’s everything else.” He resisted the urge to bite his nail and listened to the steady tick-tock of the clock hanging above his head. Ticking in time, always ticking in time, and that’s why this was all worth it. “We went to the party a couple weeks ago at Drottningholm, and Simon and I were so drained.” 

Erik and Ebba had spent the night at Drottningholm after the party. As much as they didn’t want to, they knew it was easier on the baby than traveling the hour and a half in the middle of the night. That had meant Wille and Simon had the apartment to themselves. By all means, they should have taken advantage of that. They had planned to take advantage of that. But by the time they actually got home, they were so exhausted that they didn’t even make it to the bedroom. 

They had fallen asleep on the couch, still in their suits. 

“We wanted to leave, but we weren’t allowed to,” Wille said. As much as everyone in this house liked to pretend that Wille was free from his mother’s overbearing ways, he wasn’t. He still had to do as he was told. He wasn’t allowed to make his own decisions. When told to jump, he still asked how high. “We didn’t want to be there, but we couldn’t just leave. I’m not allowed to not show up, or to have an off night. If I get sick and don’t show up to something, it’s like a national emergency. Everyone talks about it for weeks.” 

Erik could argue all he wanted, but Wille couldn’t just take a night off from being himself. His occupation was to be himself, and he didn’t get a break from that. Erik didn’t, either, but he was much more willing to play the part. Erik was better at separating himself between Prince Erik and Real Erik. But they didn’t get to escape it. Not even for one night. Not even for a minute. They were always working. Not showing up to events caused scandals. Not smiling and shaking hands caused scandals. Not addressing scandals caused even more scandals. They didn’t get a break from that. 

Wilhelm didn’t get a break from that. 

Even more so now that he’d come out. Even more so now that he’d missed holiday after holiday and event after event with his parents. People were talking, and they always were, which is why he’d been forced to go to Christmas this year and bring Simon along. They still wanted to keep up appearances. They still wanted to prove that they “supported” Wille and even invited his romantic entanglement to the holiday festivities.

The poker game didn’t end just because Wilhelm had stopped playing. It wasn’t just his reputation that was going to shit because of his absences. It wasn’t even Kristina’s. It was Erik’s. Because Erik had been speaking on behalf of Wille for two years, and people were noticing. The country wasn’t full of idiots — of course people noticed. And Wilhelm showed up and did what he had to do because he wouldn’t allow Erik’s reputation to suffer from something Kristina had brought upon herself. Upon them all.

Wille swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to push on. This conversation needed to happen, no matter how nervous it made him. “When we got home that night, we were… relieved. I was so happy to finally be away from it. Just walking through the door felt like coming home after a war, Erik.” That was a tad dramatic, and he knew it, but he’d never been subtle. There was not a single person on Earth who would have described Wille as anything less than a drama queen. “I hate it there. I know Simon does, too, even if he’ll suffer through it for me.”  

“But you don’t live there, Wille. You live with me,” Erik countered. Because it was true. Wilhelm didn’t live in Drottningholm. He hadn’t lived in Drottningholm for the past two years. He had stayed there once since then, and it was right before the wedding. It was a night when Kristina wasn’t even in the country, and Simon had been with him, which hadn’t helped to entirely relieve the anxiety about staying there, but it had certainly eased it. “And when you decide where to go after this, you’ll have your own place. Or you’ll have a place with Simon. You don’t have to worry about Drottningholm.” 

“You’re not listening!” 

Wilhelm didn’t shout often. Not anymore, at least. One of the things he’d worked on the most with Boris was controlling his temper. He didn’t like it when he was angry — more importantly, Simon didn’t like when he was angry — and he had plenty of anger pent up after everything went down with the video. Actually, he had a lot of anger pent up from years of just living his life. He didn’t snap anymore. He didn’t shout. He tried so hard not to be like the people who raised him. 

But sometimes, it wasn’t enough. 

And Erik knew that. Erik knew it wasn’t enough. No matter how much he tried to help, no matter how much he listened and how much he tried to make life easier, it wasn’t always enough. Erik had helped to create this anger, and it wouldn’t go away. This was not something that they could ignore and sweep under the rug until it was forgotten.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he said. He hadn’t been listening. Not the way he should have. Not the way Wille needed him to. “Please, explain it to me.” 

Wilhelm brought his coffee cup to his lips and downed the still-too-hot liquid. He savored the way it felt as it moved down his throat. Too warm and hurting in all the right places. It somehow helped him keep himself sane. Reminded him that Erik was his older brother, even if he was going to talk him out of this for the sake of image. It reminded him of cold mornings and hot chocolate that burned his tongue. It reminded him of all the safe things Erik once was before he ever became the safe he was now.

Erik tried. He tried so hard. Wille knew he did. Twenty-one years of bending to the monarchy’s every will didn’t just go away because he’d decided he’d had enough of it two years ago. No, inside of Erik there was still a very conscious Crown Prince who would bend over backwards to protect his image. No matter how hard he tried to escape, it was always going to claw him back. It was his nature.

“My — my kids.” It had taken Wilhelm a while to get comfortable with the idea that he even wanted children. Actually, no. He had always known he wanted children. It had, instead, taken him a while to get comfortable with the idea that he wasn’t going to fuck up his kids like his parents had done to him. It had taken Simon a while to get to that point, too. Micke and Kristina had done a number, and despite how they were now, Linda and Ludvig hadn’t been perfect either. There had been many, many late nights between the two of them in which all they had done was assure the other that they were nothing like the monsters they’d been born from. “Simon and I want kids, and they… I cannot let my children grow up the same way we did, Erik.” 

Erik sat back, his shoulders now tensely squared. Wilhelm had never talked about parenthood before. Never talked about wanting kids or how he would raise a child. In fact, Simon was the only person Wilhelm had ever talked to about children. Erik had never heard words like those come out of Wilhelm’s mouth. And suddenly, all at once and without warning, Erik felt judged. 

He wasn’t anything like his mother, and he never intended to be. He had made it out. He had put his cards down and walked away from the table, and he was nothing like his mother. Raising his children in the public eye — raising his children to be like him — had nothing to do with his mother. It was, as it had always been, part of the job. That thing he never got a break from. His kids would succeed him, and his kids needed to know what that meant. 

He didn’t need Wilhelm’s input on how he raised his child. He’d done a perfectly good job of raising Wilhelm. 

“I’m not judging you for how you’re raising Märta. You and Ebba are great parents,” Wille said. He knew what Erik was thinking before he even said the words. He knew Erik. He knew that every single time Erik so much as breathed in the wrong direction, he doubted himself as a man and as a father. He’d been doing this since they moved out of Drottningholm. He’d been doing it since the day Wilhelm came out. He’d been doing it since he realized he was part of the problem. And it never got better. Wilhelm knew that. “She’s going to succeed you. She’s going to be queen. You don’t have a choice to raise her any differently. You only have the option to raise her better.” 

Erik’s back stayed stick-straight, but the tension in his shoulders started to dissipate. He wished he knew what to say. He wished he had a way to argue. He wished he knew what he was supposed to do.

He didn’t, though. There was no way to argue with Wilhelm when he was right. Erik didn’t have a choice. Ebba didn’t have a choice. As much as they loved their child, and would love their future children, they had to raise them in a certain way. There was no other option. There had never been an option.

He could try to keep them from the media for as long as possible, he could give them the choice to talk to reporters, he could listen to them when they wanted to be heard. Erik could be everything Kristina was not, but he could not keep them from this life. He couldn’t ignore the dinners they would have to attend, or the classes they would have to take, or the people they would have to know. He couldn’t ignore the fact that their life was not entirely theirs, and it never would be. From the moment they were born, they belonged to the people. Just like he had. Just like Wilhelm had. 

It made Erik feel guilty. 

Erik ran a hand over his face, stress weighing him down again as Wilhelm continued to speak. “But I do. I have a choice. And I don’t want a title to be shackled to them for their entire lives.” That’s what it came down to. That was everything. The power of the choice. Wilhelm had the choice to protect his kids. Erik didn’t. Not really. He could try his best, but he didn’t have the options Wilhelm had. Not unless he wanted to take away Wilhelm’s choices, and he never would. “I don’t want to force them into suits and dresses they don’t want to wear, with ties or collars that are always too tight” – he tugged on his necklace again – “and parade them around parties they don’t want to be at. I want to be able to make the decision and say, ‘hey, my children aren’t feeling good tonight, maybe we shouldn’t go.’ And I don’t want them to deal with PR teams or scandals or, god forbid, one of them ends up outed like I did. I can’t do that.”  

Wilhelm had nightmares about it. Ones that Simon had woken him from and had to spend hours calming him down from. Nightmares of camera flashes and headlines that read about the queer prince’s queer child. He’d woken up screaming and crying and grieving for a child he did not even have yet. He dreaded having a kid who ended up being different from the societal norm — not because it was bad, but because he knew what it was like to have the information broadcast before he was prepared for it. And that didn’t even begin to scratch the surface of the problems they would face when they needed to explain to their children that some cruel kids on the playground might ask you about a video of your dads, and you must know that their taunts have nothing to do with you.

Simon had assured him that wouldn’t happen. Simon’s voice saying the words it was a dream baby, it wasn’t real, go back to sleep, had become a kind of mantra that Wille willed himself to forget every morning. Simon had spent countless nights running his fingers through Wille’s hair and promising in between soft kisses that they would protect their kids the way they hadn’t been protected. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to say they would be better. Not when Wilhelm knew they couldn’t be. They couldn’t be better when he was still a puppet for his mother’s monarchy. And he knew it wouldn’t be better under Erik’s. 

Not better enough. 

“You want to get rid of the title before you can pass it down,” Erik whispered, as if finally — finally — understanding. Wilhelm had been trying for years to explain to him that he did not want this life. He did not want this title. It really shouldn’t have been a shock that he didn’t want to pass it down. But here they sat, in the middle of the kitchen, an hour past dinner time, with Erik realizing the extent of just how deep these roots ran for the first time. 

Wilhelm nodded. “Precisely.” 

Erik had spent the better part of the last two years pretending like there were no more problems. The problems were still there and blindingly obvious to anyone who knew the situation, but he’d pretended they weren’t. He had gotten August shipped off to military school in Switzerland, he had moved Wilhelm away from their mother, he had gotten married and had a child, he had spent holidays with Wilhelm’s boyfriend’s family, he had put the kid into therapy, he had spent hours upon hours fighting the royal court about their stupid fucking traditions. And when all of that had been taken care of, Erik pretended there was nothing left to fix. 

Because the reality was that he and Wilhelm were broken. 

And that could not be fixed. Not in this lifetime. There were too many years of being told they weren’t allowed to feel. Too many years of biting their tongues until they bled. Too many years of hiding behind masks to make sure they weren’t picked apart by the masses. 

Erik pretended there was nothing to fix so that he didn’t have to admit that he couldn’t fix this. He couldn’t fix Wilhelm, no matter how hard he tried. He tried to help his lillebror sixteen years too late, and he hadn’t even started to help himself. Two years had not changed anything in Wilhelm. Every day, Erik still watched him struggle. And maybe he wasn’t drowning anymore, but there were definitely still days when he fought to keep his head above the water. 

“Does Simon know?” he asked. If anyone could talk Wilhelm in or out of abdication, Erik knew it would have been Simon. So it begged the question: did Simon know yet? 

Wilhelm shook his head, bangs flopping in a way they both knew would have made Kristina cringe. She’d commented on how long his hair had gotten at Christmas last week. It was the only thing she’d said to him all night, actually. And two years after they’d welcomed Simon into the family, she still wouldn’t even say his name, let alone say anything to him.

“No, he uh… I talked about it a bit, almost a year ago, now,” Wilhelm admitted. He’d been thinking about abdication for as long as he had known what the term meant. He’d started genuinely considering it as an option two years ago after he’d come out. He’d started seriously considering it a year ago. He’d started planning it two weeks ago. “It was right about the time his Vogue article came out. When I read it… they kept calling me Prince Wilhelm throughout the entire thing, and it dawned on me that that’s never going to go away.” 

He had remembered that realization terrifying him at the time. He remembered laying in bed the morning it was published, Simon curled into his side and still asleep, and he was paralyzed with the realization. The boy next to him was none the wiser, and remained ignorant as far as Wilhelm knew. He hadn’t told Simon that the switch in his brain had flipped that morning, but it had, and he was petrified. 

He hated knowing that this — his title, his status — was more permanent than even Simon was. It felt fundamentally wrong. Simon was Wilhelm’s definition of “forever.” Nothing should have been more permanent than that.

“It will always be Prince Wilhelm and Simon Eriksson. My title will always go before my name, and my name will always go before Simon’s. It was an article about him and my name was first. The title is more important than either of us will ever be.” Simon hadn’t even noticed that fact — a fact that had shifted Wilhelm’s entire world on its axis. Simon hadn’t noticed, but it had made Wilhelm sick. “When I brought up abdication, he told me to think about it — and not to let anyone or anything influence my decision, including him.”  

Erik should have seen that coming, and in many ways he did. Simon didn’t talk about the monarchy in this house. Not without being specifically asked about it. He didn’t support the institution. He didn’t support the mere idea of it and he certainly did not support the Queen. But this was his life now. Interviews and stylists and cordial dinners with aristocrats were his life now. And more importantly, it was the life of the people he loved. 

He didn’t try to influence Wilhelm about anything regarding the monarchy unless it was to convince him to take a breath. And Erik knew before he’d even asked that Simon had nothing to do with Wilhelm’s idea of abdication. It was a seed planted long before Simon was even a blip on his radar.

“Does anyone know?”

Wille shifted uncomfortably and pulled at the sleeves of his — Simon’s — sweatshirt. “You, uh — you wanted me to start seeing Boris, so he knows.” Boris hadn’t put the idea in his head, but he had been the person to give Wille permission to explore it. Erik’s raised eyebrow pressed for more answers, and Wille was now at a point in his life that he was able to provide them. Last year, he couldn’t find the proper words to explain it. Hell, last month he hadn’t had the proper words to explain it. But he did now. Boris had helped him. “We were talking about how much pressure it is to be perfect, even though I’m not the Crown Prince. He said… he said that I couldn’t choose how I was born, but I can choose how I live my life… and I didn’t choose this, Erik.” 

Erik stared at the countertop and sighed. “No, you didn’t. You never asked for this life.” He couldn’t deny that the idea of Wille leaving terrified him. It froze him to his core. For the first time in either of their lives, they’d be alone in something. Erik would be alone in the monarchy, and Wille would be on his own outside of it. That had never happened before. They lived a lonely existence, the two of them, and it was made slightly less lonely by each other. Erik had always been lonely, but he’d never been alone . “In fact, for as long as I can remember, you’ve been asking for a way out.” 

The first time Erik could remember Wilhelm asking for a way out was when he was seven years old. He had looked up at Erik and, in all seriousness, asked when they got to stop being princes. He asked when they would get replaced. He’d cried when Erik told him they never would — that they would be princes for life. When he was nine, he’d asked Erik about the word “abdication” and then said he thought he might like to abdicate one day. Wilhelm was fourteen the first time he’d used it as a threat, and sixteen when Erik realized it wasn’t a threat at all. 

Wilhelm had never hidden his desires to leave that life. This was not a blindside, nor a betrayal. Erik didn’t know why it hurt so deeply in his stomach — why he could feel it ache and move up his chest and throat like he might retch up his feelings.

“I started doing my own research about it a long time ago,” Wilhelm admitted. He stared at his hands and tried not to think too hard about what that meant. He’d been planning to leave his brother — the one that had looked out for him his entire life, and he had looked out for in return — and he’d been planning it for years. He shouldn’t have felt guilty. He wasn’t really leaving. Still, there was something that pricked and plucked right below his skin that begged him to feel it. “But it’s been more serious since just before the break. Since that last session with Boris. And then tonight with Felice—” 

“What happened with Felice?” Erik interrupted. He was suddenly tense again, his face turning hot. He worried every single time Wilhelm walked out the front door. Over the last two years, Wille had been subjected to some not-very-kind reporters. He worried and he worried and he worried until Wilhelm came back home from wherever he’d gone. But he trusted Felice, and he trusted Felice to keep him safe. “Did someone hurt you?” 

Wille waved him off with a shake of his head. Nothing had happened. Not really. The typical gawking as he walked down the streets, the same feeling of cell phone cameras always being pointed in his direction. “No, no, nothing like that. It was just… people kept asking if I was that gay prince and if Simon knew I was out with a girl and stuff.” 

Those comments had long ago lost their sting. At first, in the very beginning, he had worried about the headlines that would follow his nights out with Felice or Maddie. He’d call Simon and make sure he knew everything that had happened that evening, so there was no chance of the media spinning anything in a way that could cause a fight. It never did. Simon had always trusted him more than he deserved. After a while, Wille stopped worrying so much about keeping Simon updated about those nights out. After all, it wasn’t like Simon was keeping him updated about every detail of the nights he’d spent with Rosh and Ayub — except for that once that Wilhelm really tried not to think about. And for every article that popped up about Wille being out with some girl, three more would pop up about Wille being out with Simon. 

The comments about him being the gay prince still pricked his side uncomfortably sometimes. He had never given himself a label, and he’d never been asked to by anyone who mattered. He didn’t plan to. Labels felt just as constricting as the monarchy did, and he hated them. But while those comments about his sexuality still made him itch, they’d long ago lost their bee-sting. 

“I know that won’t stop when I leave,” he confessed, his voice sounding weak for the first time in a long time. Escaping his title did not mean escaping this life, and he knew it. It was the unfortunate gravity of their lonely world. “But I’m not — I won’t have to worry about it turning into some scandal every time I kiss Felice’s cheek or pay for Maddie’s cab fare, you know?” 

He did know. Erik knew too well. Since he had gotten married, there had been twelve articles about one of them reportedly “having an affair” because of how they’d interacted with their friends. Erik had kissed a friend on the cheek, Ebba had met a friend for drinks, and despite the fact that they had a new child, there were still people claiming to have seen Erik checking into a hotel with Malin — his married lesbian bodyguard. So, yes, Erik knew. Doing anything with anyone who wasn’t your partner somehow ended up as a scandal, no matter how absolutely absurd or ridiculous the idea of it might be. 

That was tiring. It made them feel trapped, and for the last two years he and Ebba had been forcing themselves to realize that outside opinion simply did not matter. They trusted each other, and that was enough. Scandals still rocked them, though, and these weren’t scandals Erik could pass off on Wilhelm like he’d done in the past. 

Erik took a deep breath. He tried to remind himself that he’d seen this coming. He had even expected it. And there was nothing more that he wanted than to see Wille thriving — something Erik knew he could not do under the heavy weight of a crown. He had seen this coming.

“You’re old enough to make the decision, Wille. I can’t stop you, and I won’t try to,” he said. He watched as Wilhelm visibly relaxed. His shoulders made their way down from his ears and the vein on his forehead finally stopped throbbing. “I’ll help you. I just want you to know what it means.” 

“I know what it means.” 

“Do you?” Erik rarely snapped at Wilhelm. A few times in the last couple of years as he’d been raising Wille entirely on his own, but not usually. He snapped at Wille when he threw a party while Erik was out of town. He snapped at Wille when he almost burned the building down while cooking. He had yelled at Wille when he was rude to Ebba that one time. But it wasn’t often. He didn’t make it a habit. Not like Kristina had. “You won’t have any support from the court. At all. In fact, they may ask you to move out of the country. You’ll have to pay for your own PR team and security. Travel expenses and wherever you live are also going to have to come out of your own pocket. I’m sure Papa and I will both give you money to start you off, but after that, you will be entirely on your own. And you’ll still be invited to events, but when you show up, all of our family and their friends are going to judge you — judge you more harshly than they ever have before. So, are you actually sure you know what that means?” 

“They already judge me.”

“Not like this.”

“Erik, do you know how many trips you, Papa, and Kristina have gone on in the last two years that I was not invited to simply because I am openly queer?” Wilhelm asked. Erik knew there were a few trips that Wilhelm had not been forced to find a way out of, but he didn’t think it was because an invitation hadn’t been extended. Now that he thought back, he probably should have known better. He’d allowed himself to live in a blissful ignorance and Wilhelm hadn’t felt the need to shake him out of it until now. “Seven. You have gone on seven trips that I wasn’t even given an invitation to because the foreign governments judge me too harshly. Even the ones that are supposedly queer-inclusive still look down on me and that isn’t going to change.”

More than he was upset, Erik was scared. He was terrified. Wilhelm didn’t know what it was like to be on his own. He didn’t know what life was like without the looming monster that was the Royal Court. He had never lived without them. He said he wanted to be free, but he didn’t know the shame that would accompany that decision. Erik had heard horror stories of former foreign monarchs that left the royal life behind, and he knew it could be bad. Wilhelm was already different from the rest of them — he always had been — and renouncing them would only make things worse. So much worse.

But once again, Wille nodded, his bangs bouncing with every movement. “I know, Erik. I’ve always known.” His voice dripped with a sad kind of hope. It was a sound Erik didn’t think he’d heard since the day Wilhelm came out. The kind of sound that tugged at Erik’s chest, but proved that no matter how scared Wille was, he knew this was something he needed to do. “I know what it means for me, and for Simon. For you and Papa. I know. But I… I want to be free, Erik. I need to be free.” 

Erik took a deep breath. This felt like two years ago all over again. It felt like sitting in Wilhelm’s little Hillerska dorm room, pushing him to deny a video he held no shame about — pushing him to deny a boy who was now so deeply ingrained into Erik’s very skin. Simon. And Erik had given into Wilhelm’s wishes back then, too. He had pushed until Wille snapped and he had given in because Wille knew what was best for himself. Wille had been looking out for himself for his entire life and he knew what the best thing for himself was. 

So Erik nodded once, firm and steady, as if to convince himself once again. “Okay,” he breathed. The same word he’d said two years ago in that dorm room. That same word that had brought along the end of the monarchy controlling them. The same word, in the same tone, with the same emotion attached to it. He nodded once again. “Okay.” 

Wille nearly jumped over the counter to hug his older brother. That was also not unlike what he’d done two years ago when Erik had given him permission to come out. “Thank you. Thank you.” The pounding in his heart settled slightly as his big brother’s arms wrapped around him. There were very few people with whom Wille felt completely safe with, but this? This was safe. These arms were safe, this apartment was safe, this conversation was uncomfortable , but safe all the same.

Erik had never been held this tightly by his younger brother. Wilhelm knew he didn’t need permission for this. He knew that no matter what Erik’s answer was, he was going to do it anyway. But the permission was given. No ties would be broken, no bridges burned. Erik would continue to be safe. Because that was who he was, and that was his job, and because Wille still needed him.

“Erik!” 

The way Erik jumped at the sound of his name would have been comical, had Ebba not sounded so angry. Ebba was already a force to be reckoned with, but since the baby, she’d also been getting significantly less sleep than she needed. Tired Ebba was synonymous with Scary Ebba, and Erik had been taking the brunt of it. 

Deservedly. 

Märta had stopped screaming (which was probably why they hadn’t heard Ebba coming), but she was still a baby. She was ready to scream her lungs out at the drop of a hat. Ebba seemed to understand that much, as she held Märta so precisely that it seemed one movement would disrupt the balance of the universe. Ebba stared with wide eyes at her husband, an explanation clearly being expected.

“Erik, darling, my dear husband, the love of my life — our baby. She needs to eat.” Ebba nodded at the bottle that Erik had left on the counter. 

Erik snatched the bottle quickly, an apologetic smile tugging at his lips as Wille took his seat at the counter. “Sorry, our other child decided to abdicate, so I was a bit preoccupied.” He took the baby from her hands and held the bottle to Märta’s lips. And she was, as Ebba had said, hungry. Very. Ebba was always right. That wasn’t new.

At this exact moment, though, Ebba had frozen and fixed her gaze on her brother-in-law. This was something that she and Erik had talked about multiple times. Especially after they agreed that they would look after Wille until he finished school. She knew, of course, that Wilhelm was not cut out to be a prince. In another life, this kid was a teacher, or an architect, or even an accountant. But never once was he meant to be a prince. Not in even one life was he supposed to live with that kind of pressure. So Ebba knew this was a possibility. She knew it was a likely one, at that. 

It still caught her off guard. The way it had so casually slipped from Erik’s lips had caught her off guard. She knew Erik was scared of it. She knew Erik was dreading it. “You’re abdicating?” she asked. 

Wilhelm was only able to hold her gaze for a second. “I, uh…” He turned his head to his lap with a sigh, and then nodded. “Yes. I am.” When he looked back up, a goofy grin had settled its way onto his lips. It looked too big for his face. “I am going to abdicate.” He said it with confidence this time. With his whole chest.

Ebba took a step forward and ran the back of her hand over his cheek. They had grown considerably more comfortable with each other in the last two years, and Ebba had quickly become the person Wille went to for pretty much everything. When Erik wasn’t around, or wasn’t available, Wilhelm called Ebba.

And Ebba had grown just as fond of Wille. It was easier for her to understand him after everything — the “everything” that they only called the incident in this household. It was easier to see past Wilhelm’s previous “bad boy” behavior — and his occasional current reckless actions — when she realized he just wanted to be normal. He wanted to be like his friends. She grew more fond of him every day. They even had lunch dates now. 

“I haven’t seen you smile like that since the wedding,” she said. Because the last time she had actually seen Wilhelm smile this giddily, it had been as he pulled Simon out onto the dance floor at her and Erik’s wedding. The two boys had been dreading the reception the entire week leading up to the wedding, not sure if someone would tell them to knock it off and present the monarchy in a more “traditional” light. But Erik had more than quickly shut down any whispers from the old hags at his wedding, and Wille and Simon had danced the night away while Kristina seethed and glared from her table. And that was the last time Ebba could remember seeing Wilhelm smile this widely. 

Wille threw his head back and groaned loudly. “I’m just… I’m just really happy,” he said. It felt like a weight lifted off his back. Like for the first time in his entire life, he felt like he could breathe fully. For once, he could just be. It finally felt like there was no threat of a knife at his back, ready to be plunged. No threat of losing a game he was never meant to win, but was forced to play. 

Ebba and Erik shared one look. One . That’s all it took. There was no need for anything more than that. Because they knew Wille, and they knew what Wille needed, and Wille needed this. “Then screw it,” Erik said, holding Märta expertly in one hand. “You’re abdicating. Call Simon and tell him to come over. I’ll grab the champagne.” 

Wille ran a hand through his hair. “About Simon, actually—” 

“He’s already on his way, isn’t he?” Erik interrupted, handing off his child to Ebba so he could get the bottle of champagne off the top shelf. He kept it around for special occasions. When he was the Crown Prince, there were a lot of those. 

“Actually, I just let myself in.” The door of the kitchen opened again, and this time Simon strutted through, a useless overnight back thrown over his shoulder. Everything Simon needed was already here, and they all knew it. Similarly to how Wilhelm didn’t need to bring a bag to Simon’s anymore. But they still did, every time, if for nothing more than appearances. Simon had clothes here, Simon had a toothbrush here, Simon had his own room here (not that he ever used it). The overnight bag was nothing more than a prop.

Erik scoffed and looked at his little brother, who was still sitting on the bar stool with a fake-innocent look on his face. As if he wasn’t the menace causing Erik’s hair to gray prematurely. “How did you plan on sneaking him into my house without telling me?” It wasn’t an accusation or a genuine question, and everyone in this room knew that. Even Märta must have known that, considering every time they talked to her about Simon, they called him Uncle Simon. 

Simon was welcome here at all times. He was probably here more than Erik was during their school breaks, actually. 

“I didn’t,” Wille said, standing from the stool so that he’d eventually be able to greet his boyfriend. “I just figured that no matter how this conversation went, I’d need emotional support. I texted him while I was out with Felice.” 

Erik hummed an unconvinced tune and turned back towards the liquor cabinet. “The conversation went well, by the way,” he called over his shoulder to Simon. 

“What conversation?” Simon asked, setting his bag down by the kitchen door. Wilhelm had told him that there was something happening tonight and that he would probably need to be held at some point. He had neglected, however, to tell Simon just what that something had been. Just in case it went wrong. 

So Wille really couldn’t blame Simon for being confused. He grabbed a satsuma from the bowl on the counter — a bowl they kept specifically for Simon — and started to peel it. He knew Simon hadn’t eaten yet. Linda liked to eat late, and Wille had called him before that late. “Erik gave his blessing for me to abdicate and for us to get married.” 

Simon stopped mid-step towards Wille and just stared for a minute, as his boyfriend finished peeling the fruit and set it down on the counter. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find something to say. He, like everyone else, had seen this coming. He didn’t think Wille would actually have the balls to ask about it before someone else suggested it to him, though. After contemplating what to say for too long, he landed on the simplest answer. “You’re abdicating?” 

Wille nodded his head with a coy smirk. “And we’re getting married. Keep up.” 

Simon launched himself at Wilhelm, who caught him easily, and pressed a sloppy kiss against his lips. Ordinarily, he would have made a cheeky, less-than-innocent comment about how easily Wille could pick him up. But right now, in this very moment, he was too sickeningly happy for them both. 

“I’m proud of you,” he whispered against Wille’s lips before diving in again. Wille kissed him back in earnest. Had Ebba not been standing there and watching them, this probably would have gone in a very different direction — and probably would, later that night. But as it was, they were not alone, so he pulled back and allowed his feet to find their way back to the floor. He did, however, keep both of his hands on Wille at all times. That was normal for them, though.

Erik placed the bottle of champagne on the counter and then turned to the cabinet that held glasses that were too expensive to be living outside of a palace — Ebba had insisted on having those. “Champagne, Simon?” he asked. 

Wille rolled his eyes and pulled Simon closer. “Erik, you know he doesn’t—” 

Simon pushed him back with both hands. “Fuck you, I’m drinking champagne.” Simon picked up the satsuma Wille had peeled for him and Wille watched his boyfriend with furrowed brows. He had seen Simon do a lot of things in the past just-over-two-years, but drinking was something he’d actually only heard about. He’d never seen Simon drink anything other than a sip of beer by accident, but Simon seemed very sure about this decision. “You’re abdicating, and we’re getting engaged at some point. We’re drinking champagne,” he clarified for his visibly confused boyfriend. 

Wilhelm wrapped his arms around him from behind with a grin growing back on his face. “Oh, so now you want to pay attention to the marriage part?” 

Simon rested his head back against him and smiled just as wide. “Well, that part was decided a long time ago, mi vida.”  

Erik placed two flutes of champagne in front of the boys and then poured one for Ebba, then himself. “To abdication.” His voice cracked on the word during his toast, forcing a laugh from Wilhelm’s lips. He was doing his best. He could confidently say he was not comfortable with Wilhelm’s decision yet.

They raised their glasses with a loud clink and sipped the liquid. Simon cringed at the taste and pushed it across the counter for Erik to finish. Wilhelm resisted the urge to say I told you so as he slowly sipped from his own flute. It was peaceful for a moment. It was normal.

For all of five minutes. 

Because then Märta started crying again, and the world moved back into motion. The clock on the wall started ticking again, the dishwasher started the rinse cycle, the heat kicked on in the other room. Ebba sighed loudly, grabbed the bottle off the counter, and took the crying baby out of the room. Erik sent her off with a kiss on the cheek and then turned to the fridge. Simon hadn’t eaten, and he knew it, so he started pulling out leftovers to heat up. Malin and Ida had brought by meatballs and buttered noodles for dinner — one of the few things Erik would actually fucking eat with how picky he was. Simon would probably complain about the lack of seasoning, but he’d deal.

Simon and Wille sat back down at the counter, sharing a seat they absolutely did not need to share. Simon was practically in Wille’s lap, but that wasn’t entirely uncommon. Erik grew used to that sight — Simon in Wilhelm’s lap, Wille’s chin hooked over Simon’s shoulder. When they started to talk about going back to school in two days, Erik realized he had not asked about that. 

He slid a plate across the counter to Simon and then turned to his lillebror. “You have everything you need for school? Everything’s packed up?” he asked. He was interrupting their conversation about something to do with rowing. Something about Walter, he thought. He didn’t really care.

“Yeah, uh… everything except, um…” Wille glanced at Simon, and Erik was not ignorant to the blush creeping up his neck. He’d just gotten really, really good at pretending he didn’t notice. “I need more condoms.” 

Simon choked on his food and Erik nearly dropped the glass he was moving into the sink. They didn’t really shy away from the fact that everyone in this house was sexually active, but sometimes — when the change in subject was this drastic — it still caught them by surprise. Erik turned back around and wiped his hands on the rag that he’d thrown over his shoulder at the beginning of his interaction with Wilhelm that evening. “I sent you up there with a 64-count at the beginning of the school year. Where the fuck did they go?” 

Wille shrugged and tightened his arms around Simon. “We have a lot of sex.” 

Simon slurped a noodle from his plate and watched carefully as Erik ran his hand over his face. “Yeah, fine, take another pack from under my sink. Just please, please never tell me that again.” 

Wille watched with a smile as Erik quickly tried to evacuate the kitchen. “Tack storebror!” he sang. 

“Yes, thank you, storebror!” Simon called after. 

Erik flipped them off over his shoulder, but kept walking and pretended he didn’t find it incredibly endearing when he heard Wilhelm do the dishes for Simon twenty minutes later. He tried hard to not show them just how much he found everything they did to be endearing. Because part of him knew that encouraging this behavior would only end up with them married in the next year, and he wasn’t particularly inclined to marry off his teenage little brother. 

In the following month, Erik began talking to the court about Wille abdicating, and they took the news much better than any of them expected. It seemed that, despite the scandal it was sure to cause, they had been hoping for a way to get rid of Wille from the moment he’d gone off script and come out. Probably since before then. And now that Erik had an heir, Wilhelm’s stance as “the spare” wasn’t very important to Kristina. 

They let him leave with little resistance. Wilhelm had to deal with a couple of meetings, too many emails to count, and a thoroughly pissed off Jan-Olof, but other than that, no one fought his decision. Erik being on his side only made things easier. They were pissed, sure, but they didn’t fight it.

At graduation several months later, Wilhelm’s public Instagram was finally updated for the first time in two and a half years. It was no longer under the management of the Royal Court’s mindless PR team, and the title of His Royal Highness had been removed from every part of the page. Now, he was simply Wille . The picture posted was of him and Simon, dressed in their graduation suits, kissing and flipping off the camera. The caption read “graduated and abdicated <3” and the photo credits were given to HRH Crown Prince Erik of Sweden. 

And Kristina had not been invited. 

Life was not entirely , nor was it royally screwed anymore.