Chapter Text
"This is not over, right? Their story is not over, right?"
"Calm down, of course it's not. You know very well that it's not."
"Then what happened next? Did Wilhelm really forget Simon? Did the war end like that?"
"Oh, yes, he did. And no, it didn't."
"Tell me!! How-"
"Will you let me speak, you little devil?"
"Sorry, go on."
"Where was I…? Ah, yes. Wilhelm lost his memories of Simon, everything. Meaning that Wilhelm forgot everything he learned in the Norrlands, at least everything coming from Simon, which was admittedly a lot. But most importantly, by losing his memories, he also lost love.
You have to understand that, up until that point, Wilhelm was afraid of love. He'd only ever seen it in fairytales, a glimpse of it in the way Erik held his fiancée, and that was all. As a prince, he never expected to find it, less so in Simon. So when he did, it was equal parts exhilarating and terrifying. And when he lost his memories of him, he lost that love, replaced only with the terrible grief that came with the loss of his brother.
It came crashing down on him the moment he opened his eyes again after the witch's spell was completed. When he woke up, it was to the calls of his squire, who followed the compass leading up to him. He managed to take him back to the Svealands safely, despite the high risk of travelling in enemy territory.
Sadly, it took a few days for him to take his prince back to the castle. Those few days were enough to scare the whole kingdom, as every soldier on that battlefield saw Prince Simon shift into a dragon and kidnap their prince. It was enough to break Queen Kristina's heart; the otherwise cold woman was unable to deal with the possible loss of her two children, with her failure to continue the dynasty her ancestor had started. A failure as the first reigning woman since Ebba herself.
So when Wilhelm was finally brought back to the castle, his mother was only a shadow of what she used to be. And while his heart was still bleeding from the death of Erik and something else he couldn't quite remember, it had been decided by the royal council that Wilhelm would be crowned on the spot. He would take his mother's place, in the midst of an open war with their centuries-old rivals from the North, mirroring Kristina's own ascension to the throne.
To be able to reign, to fulfill his duty, Wilhelm had to close his heart completely. After all, he didn't have any other purpose. He was made to serve his kingdom; he was made to fill the role he was assigned to. And his new role was to sit straight, strong, and assured under the crushing weight of a crown he never wanted.
One could've expected he would stop the war, bid for peace, and see for a truce, for the well-being and safety of his people. But the kindness buried in him got pushed even deeper, even so that no one recognized him. Even so that his own squire turned against him as Wilhelm declared he wouldn't end this war unless justice was made.
And war, for Wilhelm, was a serious thing. His decisions were far from impulsive but fueled by anger, rage, and a desire for revenge. For Erik's memory, he declared he would burn the Norrlands to the ground. The border between the two kingdoms soon became a no man's land: desolated, smelling of fire and blood. Weeks, then months passed, battles grew larger, villages were ransacked, families destroyed, crops burned, all under the reign of Wilhelm, the Cold, a title he was rumored to earn as his three months of ruling approached.
Up North, Prince Simon was in no better position. When he woke up in the witch's cabin, he was faced with the tragic reality: his fiancé was no more. Wilhelm had sacrificed their love in exchange for Simon's life, and that reality hurt. It stung, and almost snuffed out the fire inside him. The one that kept him going.
Because the first person he allowed so close had disappeared. He had disappeared, and Simon couldn't do anything about it. He was bedridden, forced to rest while his kingdom went up in flames under the attacks of a man who only had the appearance of the one he loved.
If grief made Wilhelm's heart bitter and sour, it made Simon's dull and empty."
"So he gave up?"
"Remember their titles, little one?"
"The Devoted, and the Fierce! But you said Wilhelm's was 'the Cold'..."
"It wasn't, not yet. He only got his real title at the end of the war."
"Wait, why did Simon get a title? He was not a prince of the Svealands…"
"That, my child, is the story I'm about to tell you. The story of Simon, proud and brave Simon, who single-handedly stopped a war by fighting the hardest battle of them all…"