Work Text:
“20 of the most infamous scandals of Royals around the Globe”
Wille doesn’t know what possessed him, gossip headlines from a trash website was typically something he would simply ignore, but before he could think his thumb pressed the link…and he was scrolling…and there it was.
“Number 8: Ex-Crown Prince of Sweden and the Saucy Sex Tape Scandal!” with a grainy picture accompanying the headline. Wille recognized his teenage form, lips attached to Simon’s chest, auburn hair fanned across his golden skin, Simon’s mouth agape and eyes closed from lust.
Wille can start to see the edges of his vision go grey. He cautiously sets his mug full of hot coffee on the kitchen table, the bile that starts to rise in his throat putting him off his morning ritual. His breath starts to quicken, only able to take in shallow breaths as he tries to keep his composure. Wille scrubs his hands through his wild bedhead, trying to shake the feeling like he is floating, desperately trying to keep grounded. He wants to run…his eyes dart around the room, looking for the quickest exit.
“Daddy! Look!” Wille is pulled back to the surface by the voice. His vision starts to clear as he uses all his power to focus his attention on the scene in front of him- across the living room, his son is holding up his latest artistic creation, “Daddy! Look at my drawing!”
For a moment, Wille snaps back to reality, and focuses his attention on his son holding up his scribbles proudly, “Look!” he repeats, waving it around.
Wille smiles, “It’s beautiful darling! You did a wonderful job!” doing his best to alter his shaky tone.
“Look at mine Daddy!” His daughter raises her own masterpiece higher in the air, above her brother’s head.
“Yours is gorgeous too sweetheart! How did I get so lucky to have two such talented children?” Wille playfully questions before quickly having to vacate his place at the kitchen table, steadying himself as his legs feel like jelly underneath him, moving through the living room to break up the fight that is beginning to brew between the twins.
“Okay, no fighting you two, let's go back to coloring,” Wille directs his kids as he makes space for himself on the floor between Matteo and Freja, leaning back against the front of the couch.
“Why don’t you show me how you draw Leif?” directing his kids to show him their juvenile interpretations of the shaggy dog asleep in the corner of the room by the heater.
As the twins start to work, Wilhelm starts to pick at the collar of his worn-in jumper, stained from years of wear and baby food, eventually traveling down to his chest, rubbing at his sternum.
“Why are you doing that Daddy?” his daughter’s melodic and curious tone catching Wille off guard.
“Doing what darling?”
“That-” she reiterates- pointing at Wille’s chest as he absentmindedly performed the ritual. It had been years since Wille had a full-blown panic attack, thanks to many years of therapy and a quiet life away from the pressures and expectations of the Royal house, that his children had never seen the various coping mechanisms. “Um…” Wille stutters, not sure how to broach the subject with a six-year-old, “I feel a little funny…and doing this makes me feel better…”
“Oh-” Freja accepts the explanation without much thought-until she carefully lays down her crayons on the coffee table, shifting her position until she is leaning on Wille’s shoulder, putting her miniature hand on top of Wille’s as it travels back and forth across his chest.
“Do you feel better Daddy?”
“I am starting to feel much better, thank you.”
“Can I help you Daddy?” Matteo asks after assessing the scene.
Wille grabs Matteo’s hand and places it on top of his sister’s, running the pile back and forth.
“You are the best helpers, I feel so much better now,” Wille says after a moment, grabbing both of his children’s hands, kissing their palms, the trio’s attention diverted when they hear the tinkling of keys coming through the door.
“Hola, mis amores” Simon calls out, just as he does every evening, Matteo and Freja scrambling from their seats to be the first to greet him. Simon swiftly drops his work bag, trying to catch his twins in his arms as they barrel over the back of the couch, getting the wind knocked out of him in the process.
“Oufff” Simon huffs, squeezing his kids tight, giving them each a kiss to their hair before setting them carefully back on the ground, “you two are getting too big! Can you stop growing already?” Simon is answered by a chorus of ‘NO’ from the twins as they are quickly bored by their Papa’s presence and run to play with a sleepy and disgruntled Leif.
Wille, still planted in his spot on the living room floor, keeps his breathing slow and measured, finally starting to feel the utter dread subside. Simon chuckles at his kids when he spots the back of Wille’s head, his fingers running over his scalp. Simon perches on the back of the couch, leaning over to tuck a rouge strand of hair behind Wille’s ear, the best he can from his position, “Hey you-”
Wille turns to catch Simon’s eye, and almost immediately, Simon’s brows furrow, his mouth turns down. “Are you okay?” he whispers.
Immediately sensing the shift in his husband’s demeanor, Wille manages a slight smile, “Yeah, I am okay.”
“Are you sure…Wille…”
Wille grabs a hold of Simon’s hand, now resting on his shoulder, and gives it a tight squeeze, “I promise, I will tell you about it later.”
“I love you,” Simons says.
“I love you,” Wille returns.
Simon takes Wille’s chin, tipping his face to match his own as he awkwardly leans over, giving Wille a tender kiss.