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Chapter Text

The Crown Prince stands on his doorstep. It’s only been six months since he last saw Wilhelm. Standing there he was a bit shorter, his hair long, eyes glowing in the light of the porch. He looks so different now. This time, his hair is shorter, more princely. His eyes are dark despite the light. He stands tall, dressed casually in black jeans and a black t-shirt. In the night he almost looks like a regular boy. But he’s not, he is still the Crown Prince, still has his country to inherit, his castle, his mother pushing him to become a husband and produce heirs.

Simon opens the door to his apartment, pushing his feet into his sneakers and stepping outside. Wilhelm leans against the railing of the porch, a cigarette situated between his lips. When he sees Simon, he snubs it out and flicks it into the bushes.

“You’re littering,” he tells the prince.

“Shut up,” he retorts with a wide smile. He crosses the porch and holds Simon’s face in his hands, gently like he might break him. He can smell smoke on his hands and taste it on his tongue when Wilhelm connects their lips. Always so gentle. Simon’s hands come up to grab Wilhelm’s wrists.

“I’m not your girlfriend, Wilhelm,” he jokes.

Wilhelm’s eyes bore into his, “whatever Simon. Are you ready to go?” He asks, dropping his hands from Simon’s face. He nods and follows Wilhelm to his car. A black Ferrari with a red interior, the roof is down, it used to be Erik’s.

“So fancy, just for me?” Simon quips. He knows Wilhelm is rolling his eyes as he says “only the best for you, babe.” Simon brings a hand to his chest like he is head over heels for the prince. Wilhelm pushes his shoulder, no real bite to the action.

Wilhelm drives for a while, one hand on Simon’s thigh, the other on the wheel. Occasionally, he’ll look over and find Wilhelm staring right back. He can feel the anxiety radiating off of him.

“Here,” Simon says as he takes a cigarette from the glove box, lights it and puts it in Wilhelm’s mouth. “What’s the plan for tonight?” He asks as he reaches over to take the cigarette from Wilhelm’s mouth and take a drag of it himself.

“Thought we could take the boat out for a bit.”

“We’ll get arrested,” Simon replies, letting the fact that they can’t arrest the crown prince slip his mind.

“No we won’t,” Wilhelm reminds him.

“Wilhelm,” Simon whispers.

“Stop calling me that,” he laughs, plucking the cigarette from Simons lips and tossing it out of the car. “You don’t need to pick up smoking, bad habits die hard.”

“Mmm,” he hums. It’s ironic, really, because meeting up in secret every few months is an old habit the two of them just can’t seem to break. It’s like they’re addicted to each other, nothing can stop the magnetic pull between them. “I missed you,” he tells Wille at a red light.

“I missed you,” Wille says and squeezes his knee. Simon takes his hand in his, squeezing it.

-

The air is cool and damp as Wille steers the motorboat to a stop in the middle of the lake. A small thing bought with his private funds. They brought blankets from the car and Wille brought some sliced fruits - so princely of him.

They lay on the floor of the boat, Simon curled into Wille’s body, both of them staring at the stars. He can feel the slow rise and fall of Wille’s chest, hear his heartbeat. When he kisses his neck, he feels him shudder beneath him.

Wille pulls him up to meet his lips, still tasting of cigarettes. Wilhelm opens his mouth, inviting his tongue, and he complies. A dance they’ve done thousands of times. It’s like they cannot get close enough, they push their bodies together, Simon straddling Wilhelm. Wille pushes his lower back closer and closer and closer.

He feels Wilhelm pull away. “I wish we could just become one being,” Wille whispers. “I can’t get close enough to you.”

“You can’t say things like this and then leave in the morning.” He runs his thumb over Wille’s bottom lip, who in turn pushes his lips into Simon’s, hard. Bracing his hands under Simon’s thighs, Wille flips them around. Simon laying on his back, Wilhelm between his legs, kissing the hollow of his throat. Wille tugs at his shirt and he lets him remove it for better access. He takes his time kissing down Simon’s torso. Once he makes it to the waistband of his sweatpants, he stops, looking at Simon for permission. He nods and throws his head back on the floor of the boat.

-

Once they have caught their breath and are looking at the stars again, Simon speaks. “Do you remember the last time we were here?”

Wille hums.

“We were nineteen. A year out of Hillerska. You told me you loved me.” He confesses.

“I still do,” Wille whispers into the dark.

“Don’t say that,” Simon says light heartedly.

“You knew I loved you before then. You know I’ve loved you since that night, four years ago. I’ll always love you,” he breathes.

Simon moves into Wille’s chest, if only for something to ground him. “You know I’ll always love you.”

Minutes or hours pass, there’s no way to tell.

“Wanna get in the water?” Wille asks, absentmindedly drawing shapes on Simon’s chest. His hands in Wilhelm’s hair.

“It’s like two or three degrees!” He chuckles, pulling Wille closer to himself.

“It’ll be fun,” Wille promises, standing up and offering his hand to Simon, who reluctantly takes it and allows Wille to pull him to his feet.

“We’re going to freeze!” He yelps as he follows Wille into the water.

Wilhelm chuckles, “come here, I got you.” He pulls Simon to himself and holds him tight. Their naked bodies slick in the water. They kiss for a long time. They laugh and splash each other, until Simon takes ahold of Wille.

“How long do I have you for this time?” He asks.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Wilhelm replies. “I’m going to talk to my mama again, she has to understand.” It’s almost convincing. Simon can’t let himself dream about it, because it won’t happen.

“You know we’re just going to keep doing this in private, things won’t change.” Wille shuts him up with a deep kiss, he pushes him away. “Seriously, don’t make me any more false promises. How long are you here?” In an attempt to be more convincing, he kisses Wilhelm gently, once on the lips, once on his nose. He pushes his wet hair away from his eyes.

“I leave tomorrow for England. I have to meet some people. Make some appearances. I hope you’ll watch,” Wilhelm cards his fingers through Simon’s hair, making a place for them at the back of his neck.

“You know I won’t,” he whispers into Wilhelm’s skin. “Come on, let’s go home.”

-

When they are showered and safely tucked into Simon’s bed, limbs a tangled mess in an attempt to be as close as possible, Simon forgives himself for having this. They may not have much time together, but the time they do have is so important. He nuzzles himself into Wilhelm’s chest, the princes arms wrapped securely around his waist, and drifts to sleep.

He wakes up to Wilhelm staring at him and running his fingers up and down his spine. 

“Did you sleep at all?” Simon asks, still sleepy. 

“No. I couldn’t miss this,” he says. “I have to go.” 

“Okay,” Simon lets a tear fall down his cheek. Wilhelm wipes it away and kisses him deeply. 

“I’ll be back.”

“I know.” 

“I love you,” Wilhelm says, squeezing his hand. 

“I know,” is all he can respond. And then, just as quickly as he appeared, he’s gone. 

Chapter Text

The next morning, as always, Wilhelm texts Simon: I’m so sorry. And as always, the only response is “Read 10:34 AM” underneath his message. 

When he meets Queen Kristina at their private airstrip, she folds him into a hug. “I’ll see you there, Askling.” she says before boarding her own private plane and leaving him alone again. 

She knows of his ongoing relationship with Simon but chooses to ignore it, as long as it’s kept away from the tabloids. He also keeps up his appearances of going on semi-public dates with court approved women, namely Felice Ehrencrona, who he has been seen in public with more times than he can count on two hands. Despite their relationship being completely platonic, the press loves their ‘on again-off again romance’ and wonders whether or not they will get married in the future. 

Wilhelm boards his own private plane and consumes an ungodly amount of alcohol under the judgemental eyes of his guards. This is how he always deals with losing Simon and he doubts this habit will ever change. 

The next six months pass in a blur of meeting foreign royals and dancing with (again, preapproved) princesses. Almost every night, he finds himself lying awake in his bedroom, his thumb hovering over the call button underneath Simon’s contact. He never presses it. He wakes up every morning wishing he did. 

On New Year's Eve, Queen Kristina is holding a Gala to raise money for some foundation. Several people tell him what it’s for but he keeps tuning it out, knowing he won’t stay long. She tells him his presence is mandatory but that only means until the guests are drunk enough to not notice his absence, so when the clock strikes eleven and the crowd is pleasantly buzzed, he slips out of the ballroom. Finding Malin is an easy task as she is stationed just outside the ballroom, mostly to make sure he doesn’t leave, or to at least follow him when he does. 

“Crown Prince,” she nods in greeting. 

“Hey, Malin. I have a hotel room at–”

She cuts him off almost immediately, “I will be right behind you.” 

And that’s how he ends up two blocks down the road from Simon’s apartment, putting his black Bentley in park and climbing out of the vehicle. As he walks, he unties the bowtie around his neck and unbuttons the top buttons of his dress shirt. He also notices he left the jacket to his tuxedo in the car but there’s no turning back now. 

When he’s a block away, he sees a familiar figure on the sidewalk in front of him. The person reaches into their coat pocket twice before retrieving a carton of cigarettes and a lighter. 

“You shouldn’t pick up smoking,” Wilhelm says lightly, knowing he will remember the last time they saw one another. “Bad habits die hard.” 

Simon whips his head around and Wilhelm imagines the curls beneath his beanie begging to be freed. The shorter man doesn’t respond, just walks toward Wilhelm and offers a single cigarette, bringing the light to the end once it’s situated in his mouth. He takes a long drag to allow Simon to gather his thoughts. 

“Shouldn’t you be at some party?” he asks carefully. 

“Big gala, drunk people, no one will notice that I’m gone,” Wilhelm replies matter of factly. Simon hums but doesn’t add anything more. Usually, seeing each other is deliberately planned through text messages. Wilhelm letting Simon know when he’s home and Simon choosing a date and time. He’s spent months traveling in Kristina’s place as she couldn’t attend most of the events. If she were to leave the country, Wilhelm would be the regent while she was away, so she decided to send him as her ambassador. 

Wilhelm notices the familiar tensing in Simon’s jaw and the nervous way he shoves his left hand in his pocket, as if he’s coming to some sort of decision. 

Turns out, he was. 

That’s how they end up in the backseat of Wille’s Bentley.

Simon slides his lips over Wille’s, warm, soft, and so familiar. When Simon begins to crawl into his lap, he says, “I’m so fucking mad at you.” Wille responds with another kiss, looping his hands under Simon’s thighs as the shorter man straddles him. He parts his lips softly as an invitation and Simon accepts, gently sliding his tongue into the opening.

“Fuck,” Wille pants as Simon crawls out of his lap. 

Simon snorts, “not everything you dreamed it would be?” 

Wille sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. “I have a hotel room about ten minutes from here,” he comments, giving Simon an out if he wants it. 

But Simon nods and climbs into the passenger seat, Wille quickly following. 

—

Wilhelm watches as Simon politely nods at Malin and then walks past her into the suite. The second the door closes Simon has a fistful of Wille’s shirt and is slamming him against the wall. Their bodies pressed together as their lips brushed one anothers. Wille rips off Simon’s beanie and the lingering scent of Simon’s coconut shampoo is dizzying, Wille feels weak in the knees. But Simon keeps him upright, just as he always does. A steady anchor in a wild sea. 

Within the hour, Simon moans the name of God so much that the room feels consecrated. 

They lazily makeout in the shower as if they can’t get close enough. They dress in the plush bathrobes that hang on the back of the bathroom door before applying face masks. Wille tells Simon it’s just a weekly part of his skincare routine but Simon gives him a knowing smile and leans in for the pictures anyways. After they take off the face masks Wille stands behind Simon and kisses the back of his neck before leaving the room, door clicking softly shut behind him. 

Apparently there is no late night room service, even for a prince, so he sends Malin out to find pizza. It probably won’t come close to Simon’s favorite place in Bjärstad but it’ll work in a pinch. 

He’s just about to settle in their bed when he hears muffled sobs from behind the ensuite bathroom door. Quietly, as if he might scare Simon, he knocks on the door and pushes it open. Simon is crumpled on the floor with his back to the vanity and his head in his hands when Wille walks inside. “Simon,” he whispers as he crouches down in front of the other man all while keeping a safe distance from him. Wille has noticed that Simon usually doesn’t like to be comforted and prefers to handle everything on his own, so when he leans forward and throws himself into Wille’s arms, it startles him. The motion knocks him backwards to sit on the floor but he wraps his arms tightly around Simon anyways, scooping him up into his lap and petting his hair. 

Eventually he is able to coax Simon to the bed, his tears reduced to only silent tears and sniffles. Wille holds him the entire time and Simon clings to him like a lifeline. “I’m so sorry,” Wille says over and over again but he knows it won’t make things better. 

When there’s a knock on the door Simon releases him and burrows deeper into the blankets as Wille crosses the suite. He opens the door to see Malin standing there, two boxes of Pizza and a bottle of champagne in her hands. “To celebrate the New Year,” she explains and pushes into the room, setting the boxes on the table and handing the bottle to Wilhelm. He thanks her with a hug. “Go get some rest, Malin.” She tries to argue but Wilhelm insists, practically shoving her into the hallway and pressing a room key into her hand. “Go, sleep. We’re fine,” he insists. And she finally complies with a sigh. 

Before he goes back to bed he takes his phone off the table and shoots a text to his mom’s assistant: Had to leave the gala, something came up. Can we schedule a meeting sometime next week? Then he powers his phone off and leaves it there. 

It’s eleven-thirty by the time he settles back in bed with Simon, the pizza box open in front of them. “It’s weird,” Simon says between bites. It’s the first time he’s really spoken tonight. “Seeing the Crown Prince, in a fluffy bathrobe, in bed with a box of pizza.” He takes another bite and rubs at his, now dry, eyes with the back of his hand. “I have such a weird life,” he chuckles. Wille laughs at that. It’s true, it is a weird sight to see, and it is also a rare one. 

“You’re the only person I feel comfortable with,” he confesses before taking another slice of pizza from the box. Simon squeezes his hand. 

When they are finished eating they open Wille’s laptop to stream the annual New Year's Eve broadcast, a flute of champagne in each of their hands. They sip slowly while chatting about their lives. “Shouldn’t you text Rosh and Ayub?” Wille asks at one point but Simon just makes a dismissive hand gesture. 

“I texted them in the car and dropped my location so they know where to find me in case you decide to murder me.” He downs the flute of champagne. “You love me too much for that,” he jokes. 

As he’s trying to come up with a response he hears the countdown in the background. 

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two…

Before the countdown hits one, he cradles Simon’s face with both his hands and kisses him deeply. 

“Happy New Year,” he says as he pulls away and Simon swallows his words with another kiss.

—

Wilhelm wakes up to some very persistent knocking on the door to the suite. He rolls out of bed slowly so as to not bother a sleeping Simon and finds his bathrobe on the floor, wrapping it tightly around himself. Before he leaves the bedroom he takes one last peak at how peaceful Simon looks bathed in the early morning light, with his mussed curls and his face squished into the pillow. He walks back over to the bed and kisses his brow lightly before pulling the comforter back over the sleeping man. 

He swings the door open and sees Malin standing stiffly in her uniform. “Can I come in?” she asks and Wilhelm nods, stepping out of the way as she walks past and takes a seat at the table. “Where’s Mr. Eriksson?” 

“He’s still asleep,” he answers cautiously, “did you want him to…” he trails off, unsure. 

Malin shakes her head and says, “that won’t be necessary. Do you want to sit down?” 

“Uhm, yeah,” he replies, sitting at the table despite feeling awkward about being half naked. 

Malin puts a palace-issued iphone down on the table and slides it toward him. On the screen are pictures from last night, him approaching Simon, smoking a cigarette with him, Wilhelm opening the backseat of his Bentley to let Simon inside, and lastly, one of Wilhelm following Simon inside the vehicle. When he’s finished looking at the photos of himself and Simon, he sets the phone down on the table. Malin looks like she’s waiting for him to start screaming or crying or vomiting. Instead, he says nothing, standing from the table and starting toward the bedroom. “Crown Prince?” Malin calls after him. He turns around, raising a questioning eyebrow. She goes on, “The Palace is drafting a statement of denial. When will you be returning?” 

He shrugs his shoulders. “I’ll let you know when I want to leave. You can go,” he says shortly. 

Simon stirs as he strips off his bathrobe and crawls into the bed, moving so he can lay his head on Wille’s chest. “Everything okay?” he asks, half asleep. Wille hums, deciding that he will no longer allow Simon to go through this alone, he needs to push back against Kristina and the Court. He didn’t know how to do it before, but an opportunity has fallen in his lap and he will not screw it up. Not this time.  

Chapter Text

Wilhelm watches as Simon slowly emerges from sleep. Gradually, Simon wakes up; his nose scrunches and his eyelids flutter open, allowing soft morning light to filter into his consciousness.

“Hej,” Simon murmurs, squeezing his eyes shut once again and moving closer to Wille’s warmth.

“Good morning,” Wille whispers back. He opens his arms to allow Simon access before tightening his hold around the man’s waist.

“When do you have to go?” Simon asks, trying to keep his voice from shaking. 

He sighs and runs a hand through Simon’s curls, lightly untangling them with his fingers. “We have to talk about that,” he mumbles in place of a real answer. 

He can feel Simon tense next to him before he pulls away to sit up and search for his bathrobe. After finding it, he wraps it tightly around himself and retreats into the bathroom. When he notices a lack of movement from Wille, Simon peaks his head around the door. “Are you coming?” 

Wilhelm nods and follows, grabbing his own bathrobe from the floor and abandoning the warmth of the bed.

They eat their breakfast while watching Bridgerton , one of Wille’s favorite shows, until Simon reaches forward and pauses it. “When are you leaving?” he asks again, seemingly more calm about it this time. 

“I don’t know yet,” Wilhelm answers truthfully and Simon nods in acknowledgement. 

Simon takes a sip of coffee to busy his hands and fleeting mind. “What did you want to talk about?” 

Wilhelm shifts uncomfortably and sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. Simon won’t be angry , he reminds himself. He takes another moment to catch his breath before taking the plunge; “Someone leaked pictures of us last night.” His eyes stray from Simon’s and he brings his hands to cover his ears, afraid of the curly haired man’s response. 

Simon’s eyebrows shoot up and Wilhelm continues. “It’s nothing bad; just us smoking and then one of you getting in the car and me following you inside. That’s it,” he promises.

“I’m sure your mamma has a speech for you to deny it already,” Simon exhales. 

“I’m sure she does,” Wille agrees, bringing a glass of water to his lips. “But it can be different this time,” he tries. Simon glances at him. “I’m ready for this, Simon. I’m ready to be with you, publicly, whatever that means for me. I don’t care about the monarchy, Simon,” he promises, nearly begging Simon to believe him. 

A tear escapes his eye and Simon reaches out to wipe it away. “Okay,” he says, “let’s do it.” 

Wilhelm bursts into tears and Simon immediately pulls him into his embrace.

—

They spend two more nights in the suite of the hotel before Kristina starts getting impatient. Wilhelm could easily ignore the hourly texts from Farima and his mamma threatening him with being taken out of the hotel forcefully. He knows the Royal Court can’t handle a scandal that bad, especially considering the lack of public support for them since the video of him and Simon leaked in their first year of Hillerska. 

Wilhelm is more than happy to turn his phone off and ignore the calls and messages. That is until Malin knocks on the door. 

“I’ve given you as much time as I could,” she had said last night. “But if I don’t have you back home in the next twenty four hours I won’t have a job anymore.” Her pleading eyes and stern tone made Wilhelm promise they would be ready to go in the morning. 

The ride to Drottningholm Slott is silent. Simon can sense Wille’s anxiety and Wille can feel Simon growing quiet and reserved. He slowly reaches his hand across the center console, briefly looking at the curly haired man’s profile before resting his right hand over Simon’s left. He flinches away at first, seemingly surprised by the contact, but then he relaxes into the touch and intertwines their fingers. 

After walking through a back entrance into Drottningholm Slott, palace staff immediately attempted to separate the two men, claiming they would be taken to separate rooms to wait for a meeting with the Queen; that they would be separated for less than two hours and Simon would be properly taken care of during his stay. 

Wilhelm had given Jan Olaf a tight-lipped smile, slid his arm around Simon’s waist, and calmly said, “I am not willing to be separated from my boyfriend. If you attempt to separate us, I’ll leave.” 

“Okay,” Jan Olaf raises his eyebrows as if he was surprised by Wilhelm’s words. 

“I can show Simon to my apartment and you can send someone for us when it’s time for the meeting.” 

Jan Olaf only nodded and started typing on his tablet, presumably notifying their team of the change of plans, but they hadn’t stayed to watch; instead, Wilhelm showed Simon to his apartment. 

That’s where they are now, cuddling on a sofa in Wille’s living room, sipping on tea, and pretending to pay attention to the movie on the television. 

“What’s going to happen?” Simon asks after some time, tilting his head to rest his chin on Wille’s chest and attempting to look him in the eyes. 

“I don’t know,” Wille answers truthfully. “I think she’s going to have to accept that I won’t live without you anymore.” 

Simon nods his head and returns to his position before, his right ear laying on Wille’s chest where he can hear his heartbeat. He smiles softly to himself. “You don’t want to live without me?” he repeats in a teasing tone. 

It’s Wille’s turn to nod, “I thought that was obvious,” he whispers. 

Simon raises his head to look at Wille fully, eyes focused only on his boyfriend’s. Wille is suddenly very serious, his eyes darkening as he intensely stares back into Simon’s. 

Less than thirty seconds pass before Wille’s lips immediately crash into Simon. He crawls into Wille’s lap and snakes his hands up his legs, his torso, his back, to his neck. When Simon starts to suck on the skin below Wille’s ear, a moan falls from the other man’s mouth, quiet and breathy. 

After Simon successfully leaves a hickey on the blond man’s neck, Wille pulls away. His intense eyes fall into Simon’s. “I love you so much,” he giggles, “ so much.” He pulls the purple hoodie over Simon’s head.

Their lips immediately reconnect, Simon's hands land at the back of Wille’s neck, finding a home in the tufts of hair there. Wille’s hands snake around Simon’s waist and then back to the front, starting to unbutton his jeans. 

Three loud knocks come from outside the door. “Crown Prinsen,” calls Malin. In that moment, Simon’s lips fall to Wille’s neck, gently pushing his hoodie out of the way to gain better access. Wilhelm leans his head to the side, hoping to give Simon more leverage. “The tailor is here,” she shouts, “to fit Mr. Eriksson with a suit.” 

Wille groans and softly lifts Simon off of his lap, he mouths a “sorry,” before pressing a kiss to his pouting lips. Simon quickly throws his hoodie back over his head and runs his hands through his hair as Wille answers the door. “I don’t really think this is necessary,” Wille argues, sending Malin a stern glare. She shrugs her shoulders in return and closes the door behind her. 

“Crown Prince Wilhelm, Mr. Eriksson,” the man says. “Robert,” he says in place of an introduction. “This won’t take long at all, I just need you to try this on,” he holds a garment bag out to Simon. “And then I’ll bring the finished suit down in the next hour or so,” he explains. 

Simon nods and takes the garment bag from Robert's hand. Wille leads him to his bedroom. “I’m sorry,” he says as he leans against the closed door. 

“It’s not your fault,” he rises to his tip-toes to leave a kiss on Wilhelm’s lips. 

It takes only minutes for the tailor to pin the suit for Simon before he’s on his way out the door, throwing a wave over his shoulder and promising to return shortly with the finished pieces. 

When the door closes, Simon seems to deflate, letting out a long breath and plopping down on the sofa. “Sorry,” he says, avoiding eye contact with Wille. 

He raises his eyebrows at Simon, “you have nothing to be sorry for,” he promises. “Simon,” he practically begs before walking across the room and sitting next to the other man, but not close enough to touch him. “I should have abdicated a long time ago,” Wille says. 

Simon finally looks at him then, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “I don’t want you to abdicate for me,” his lip quivers slightly as the words flow from his mouth. “ If that’s what you want then I want you to do it for you, Wille.” 

His eyes fall from Wille’s face and Wille buries his head in his hands. He thought abdicating would be enough to keep Simon, and how stupid that idea had been. He shakes his head and reaches for Simon’s hand. “Okay,” he says. 

Simon nods and squeezes his hand. “Can you hold me?” Simon whispers. 

All Wille can do is open his arms and invite Simon to crawl forward. He curls his legs underneath himself and leans into Wille’s chest, hugging him tightly around his torso. After some time passes in silence, Simon raises his head to meet Wille’s eyes. “Are we boyfriends, then?” he mused. 

Wille chuckles and leaves a kiss on Simon’s nose, “of course we are. And since you’re my boyfriend, I have to tell you a secret.” 

Simon nods and sends him a soft smile of encouragement. 

“My mamma has been sick for a couple of years. Well really, since Erik died. And it’s been getting a lot worse. The only people that know are Farima and Jan Olaf,” he says. “And you. There’s a law that states the reigning monarch must inform the entire court of any illness, especially one as debilitating as hers. I’ve known that I could use this information as leverage for about a year now but I’ve been waiting,” he breathes. “I’ve been waiting for you. And I’ve been planning on moving to the United States. No one will care– or know– that I’m a prince. I can live peacefully. I can figure out who I am without the crown, away from this,” he gestures widely with his hands. “Away from all of this. I can’t do that in Sweden. And you don’t have to come with me, you can walk away right now and I will deny the pictures. You never have to see me again. But I have to go, I have to know who I am.”

—

It takes Robert twenty minutes to return with a suit for Simon and a second one draped over his arms for Wilhelm. When they finally find the motivation to get off the couch, it takes them more than an hour to get ready. They shower slowly, lazily making out and lathering each other’s hair with shampoo. Trading kisses and giggles, knowing they’ll escape it all soon enough.

Wille tries to beg Simon for more time under the hot water, but he can tell that Simon isn’t thrilled to be here with the threat of the Royal Court still looming over them. He assumes–and hopes– his boyfriend will feel better after their meeting, when everything is settled and finalized, and Simon can become an official part of his life.  A public part of his life. 

When they’re buttoning their shirts, Simon asks: “what’s going to happen in there?” 

Wilhelm shrugs. “I honestly don’t know, but,” he falters. After taking a deep breath and a second to collect himself, he pushes forward. “They’ll probably do whatever they can think of to scare you off. Or to scare me into submission,” he places a chaste kiss on Simon’s lips before helping him with his tie. “Good thing I have leverage,” he grins.

Simon giggles and pushes him away. “Why did that turn me on?” he says, cheeks turning pink. But nothing compares to the redness that crawls up Wille’s neck and settles over his face.

They stand outside the doors of the conference room hand in hand as they wait for Jan Olaf to invite them inside. Simon thinks it’s ridiculous that one man can have so much power over the next king but ignores it since Wille doesn’t seem bothered. He starts to wonder what Wille sees in the monarchy, anyways. Ever since they attended Hillerska, Wille has been indifferent, if not completely opposed to, the life he had to live as a member of Sweden’s Royal Family. Nothing changed after Erik’s death in that regard, not to Simon’s knowledge, at least. So it’s puzzling why Wilhelm would submit to a life he must carefully live in order to uphold a public image. 

Eventually the doors creak open and a tall white man with an ugly, mustard yellow tie ushers them inside, successfully breaking Simon from his thoughts. Jan Olaf attempts to seat them apart from each other, claiming that “the Queen herself decided where each person would be seated.” Wilhelm simply scoffs and crumples his name-card, taking a seat next to Simon instead of his assigned one. 

Kristina enters shortly after and takes her seat at the head of the table. She pays no mind to the change in seating arrangements which makes Jan Olaf’s face turn red. Simon offers her a bow and she waves her hand in dismissal before pulling her chair underneath herself. 

“I’m sure you know, Wilhelm, that the Court believes issuing a statement of denial is the best course of action. It is important that we take action before anyone else can spin a story,” she says immediately after sitting down, not bothering to greet anyone. 

Underneath the table, Wilhelm slides his hand into Simon’s and gives it a squeeze. “Mamma, you know I won’t do that.” 

She nods and Farima places a tan folder in front of each of them. Kristina sniffs before explaining, “We are prepared to ask Mr. Eriksson to join the Royal Family. We will plan a proposal in the near future, say, six months time. You will have the most beautiful Midsommar proposal and a winter wedding. No one will bother to dig up any old information on either of you; Wilhelm will be the first queer king, after all. That is much more exciting for people to discuss, don’t you agree?”

Wilhelm jumps slightly when Simon bursts into laughter next to him. He throws his head back and his entire body shakes with seemingly never ending laughter. When he finally catches his breath, he looks between Wille and Kristina. “Your options are to either break up or get married?” He bursts into laughter again, throwing his head back and bringing his hands to his face to rub his eyes. “I mean no offense, Your Majesty, but that sounds ridiculous.” 

It’s Wilhelm’s turn to laugh, then. He immediately brings a hand to his mouth in a (failed) attempt to stifle his laughter. He looks at Simon and then back to his mother. “Mamma, I love Simon,” he says as if it’s a fact of the universe. “And I definitely  plan on asking him to be my husband one day, but I think this is too soon for both of us.” Simon lets out a sigh of relief beside him before taking his hand again and sending him a warm smile. It was the truth; as much as Wille loved his boyfriend, he also knew it was way too soon for marriage. 

Kristina merely sighs, “These are your only options, Wilhelm.” 

Wilhelm glances at Simon, his boyfriend, the love of his life; and in that brief glance, he is able to communicate that it’s time to pull the only piece of leverage he has. “Those are the only options you're giving me ,” Wille says, shaking his head. “But I have one for you,” he sends a stern glance across the table, making eye contact with each advisor. “I take a quiet leave of absence in the United States. You can send Malin with us, and any other security detail that you see fit,” he knows he has to give up a little freedom to win this. “I live there until I’m ready to return, one year at the most,” he says simply. He throws one last glance over his shoulder and sighs when Simon’s encouraging gaze meets his own. “If you don’t agree to these terms, I’ll inform the rest of the Court about your worsening health issues and how long you have hidden them. I will tell them that Jan Olaf and Farima have both been complicit in your lies and then I will call for an immediate shift of power. When I become the reigning Monarch, Jan Olaf and Farima will be terminated, quietly, of course. We wouldn’t want to cause a bigger scandal than needed.”

His mother’s jaw nearly touches the floor, Jan Olaf gasps and Farima seems to go into immediate problem solving mode. “Your Majesty,” she says, attempting to gain her attention. “This is your call but we should immediately–” Farima silences when Kristina holds up a hand. 

“Okay,” she sighs, holding up a hand to silence Farima. “I will have your head of security choose five other guards. Jan Olaf will inform the airport when you are on your way.” She stalks from the room without a goodbye. 

—

Simon throws himself onto Wille’s bed the second the last piece of his suit hits the ground. His hands come up to rub at his eyes as he yawns. 

Wilhelm throws his button-up to the floor and falls onto the bed next to Simon, putting his forehead against his boyfriend’s. “We don’t have to do this,” he assures him. 

Simon sits up and crawls under the covers, holding the corner over for Wille to join him. When they’re tightly tucked under the thick duvet, Simon kisses Wille. “I want to do this,” he assures him when their lips break apart. “I want to know who we are without all of this pressure. This might be the only time our lives are ever normal, you know?” 

Wille shakes his head. “I don’t want that, Simon. I want normal with you for the rest of my life,” he breathes, pulling Simon impossibly closer to himself. 

“I know,” Simon breathes. “Me too.” 

—

Two weeks later…

Simon watches the sun dip beneath the mountains west of their apartment. It’s become one of his favorite activities in Los Angeles– watching the sunset from the floor to ceiling windows that line the space of their open floor plan apartment, as he’s cuddled into a pile of blankets on the sofa. He usually sips on some hot chocolate and listens to music in his headphones, but tonight he opts for listening to Wille’s steady breathing and quiet humming. 

Wilhelm sits next to him wrapped in his own blue blanket, a mug of steaming coffee in one hand and his Kindle in the other. He has never understood his boyfriend’s obsession with the sunset; he’s always found that watching the golden colors wash over Simon’s face is much more beautiful. So, he opts for a book that he pretends to read in favor of watching Simon’s tan skin glow with the colors of the setting sun. 

Eventually, the last of the sunlight is gone, replaced with the glow from the stars and moon. Simon is the first to stand from the green sofa, holding a hand out to a sleepy Wille in a silent invite. 

“Ready for bed?” Simon asks. 

Wille can only nod as he takes his boyfriend’s hand and lets him guide him to their bedroom. They move slowly through their bedtime routines; Wille carefully going through his skincare as Simon brushes his teeth and applies a serum to his curls. They tuck themselves into bed shortly after and Wille pulls Simon close to himself and presses a kiss to his forehead.

“I love you,” he whispers into the darkness of their bedroom.

“I love you, too,” Simon answers.