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Nothing to Fear

Summary:

“But it was me.”
A collection of different POVs taking place after season 2 of Young Royals. Basically random headcanons from what I think/hope could happen in season 3 and beyond, way into the future. Nothing but happy endings for my royal babies.

Notes:

General TW (updated as new chapters are posted): mentions of homophobia, mentions of anxiety, depictions of anxiety, depictions of panic attacks, mentions of depression, mentions of mental health issues.

Title is from Eivør’s song “Nothing to fear” from the album Segl. I think it’s a very Wilmon song.

“Here we are
Outside our comfort zone
The air so cold it tastes like freedom
Don’t let go
You’re the bravest boy I know
It’s almost happiness
It’s almost destruction.”

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: A peaceful transition

Summary:

What happened right after the speech. Kristina’s POV.

Notes:

I’m not a Kristina apologist, but I am very interested in her and her inner workings, as a queen and as a mother. I hope we get more of her in the third season, and I hope we see a different side of her.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Kristina had not been so close to losing her composure in front of a large group of people since Erik’s funeral. 

She watched, disconcerted, as Wilhelm stood at the podium and continued reading over the speech, skipping over a large portion of it, and delivering the closing remarks. As if he hadn’t just dropped an atomic bomb. As if he hadn’t just stunned everyone. 

Nobody was listening to his words anymore, nothing else he said, or rather read aloud from the cue cards in his hands, was as remarkable. All eyes were still on him, though. 

All lenses were on him. 

The television cameras had stopped rolling as soon as Jan-Olof indicated. Photographers were not as obedient, as they continued to snap photo after photo, hoping to capture something else, some priceless moment. And almost every student was still video recording on their phones or live streaming on social media. 

No doubt that what had just happened was all over the country, and making its way steadily around the world.

Disconcerted as she was, she managed to get Jan-Olof’s attention, even though no words came out. Jan-Olof understood perfectly, and he leaned over to speak to Headmistress Lilja, who stood up immediately and started walking toward the podium.

“Thank you, Crown Prince,” she said, her voice slightly unsteady. Wilhelm glanced over his shoulder once more, presumably at a specific person standing behind him with the choir, before stepping down and walking stiffly back to his seat. He slowly lowered himself back onto his seat, as Lilja thanked everyone for coming, in short announcing that the ceremony was at an end. The bewildered audience managed to clap, albeit unenthusiastically. 

Jan-Olof stood up and spoke to the head of security, and Lilja beckoned to the teachers. 

Students looked around confused as the teachers ushered them back into the building, camera crews and photographers were disconcerted and slightly confrontational as security spoke with them. 

Jan-Olof returned and approached the Queen to let her know that they should head inside. Kristina glanced at Ludvig and Wilhelm quickly before standing up, and security gathered around to lead them toward the building. Wilhelm reluctantly got up again and started following. August, still stunned, remained on his seat. 

They walked up the steps and into the hall. There seemed to be a commotion going on, teachers trying to reestablish order, all interrupted by the Queen walking in. Kids scrambled to their feet if they had been sitting down, or straightened up if they had been leaning against something, or turned around if they had been facing away, and the hall was filled with a muttering of incoherent greetings as they all bowed and curtsied toward her. 

Kristina glanced around quickly at all the faces, discreetly stopping when she finally spotted him to the right, partially hidden behind Wilhelm’s friend, Felice Ehrenchrona. The boy’s tan face was uncharacteristically pale and peaky. Felice seemed to mutter something to him, a hand on his shoulder, him clutching to the hem of her blazer. 

Kristina now glanced at Jan-Olof, who in turn gestured to the headmistress. Lilja cleared her throat. 

“Okay, everyone head to class now,” she announced, clapping for their attention.

“It’s Sunday,” a girl with two long pig-tails and an American accent said matter-of-factly. 

“Thank you, miss McCoy. In that case, everyone head back to your dorms,” Lilja said. “Quickly, please. Housemasters, please lead the way.”

Kristina breathed deeply as students awkwardly curtsied and bowed again before shuffling out, teachers trying to herd them as fast as possible. She chanced another glance toward the boy, but he was gone. On her left, Wilhelm was gone too. 

“Jan-Olof,” she called. “Please find the Crown Prince and have him meet us in the Headmistress’ office.”

Jan-Olof found Wilhelm in the coatroom, apparently having a breakdown, whilst the boy comforted him. The royal aide arrived a few minutes later with the Crown Prince in tow, who had another figure beside him, holding hands. 

“Will you excuse us, Simon? We need to have a private conversation,” Kristina said. 

Neither boy moved. Simon seemed to be shivering, whilst Wilhelm breathed hard. He swallowed hard before glancing at Simon, who pressed his lips together in a tight line. Headmistress Lilja broke the tense moment by stepping forward.

“Simon, please, come with me, I’ll wait with you outside,” she said, and the boys had no choice but to let go of each other’s hands, and Simon hesitated before being led out by the headmistress. Wilhelm suddenly looked adrift, as he watched Simon disappear behind the closing door. He turned back to his mother in front of him. 

“Mum, I-”

“We’re going home,” Kristina interrupted him. Wilhelm nodded, impassive.

“Okay, drive safely.”

She barely managed not to glare at him. “You are coming with us.”

“No, I’m not. I’m staying here.”

“Wilhelm, you’re coming with us now.”

“I’m staying here,” he repeated, slower, resolute. She felt her nostrils flare. 

“This is not a request.”

“Neither is this.”

“You’ve already made a scene today, there’s no need for another one.”

“I’m not making a scene. But why would I leave? I have class tomorrow,” he said, too calm for the brazen tone he had adopted.

“We are going back to Stockholm to try to figure out how to fix this,” she said. 

“I don’t think there’s anything that needs to be fixed,” he responded. She lifted a hand to stop him. She’d had enough.

“Wilhelm,” she said, pausing to fix him with a look, “we will discuss this when we get home.”

Wilhelm didn’t look at her. “And when will I be back?”

“That is yet to be determined.”

“Then I’m going to go pack. Just in case.” 

“We are leaving in five minutes.”

“Well, I’m guessing you’re not leaving without me, so…” he said, still too calmly. She finally strode past him, and one of her bodyguards opened the door for her. 

Outside, Malin stood on one side of the door. Lilja stood on the other, looking expectant. She bowed her head, and Kristina opened her mouth to speak, when she spotted Simon behind Lilja, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall and his arms around his knees. He didn’t move, nor did he look up.

“Headmistress, Wilhelm will be coming back to Stockholm with us immediately. I trust he can be excused from missing a few days of class as we try to resolve this. We will inform you about his return,” Kristina announced, and Lilja nodded diligently.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” she said, even as Kristina was already moving away, flanked by her bodyguards. Ludvig followed her at a distance before stopping. 

Kristina stopped too and looked back at him. Ludvig watched Wilhelm walk out of the office, looking morose. His feet carried him directly to the boy hunched over on the floor, who stood up, and they embraced each other. Then Wilhelm took his hand and led him away, toward the dorms, chancing a glance at his parents. Malin and Joakim followed.

Kristina turned around again and continued down the hall to the front entrance. Ludvig eventually followed. 

Wilhelm showed up ten minutes later, with a backpack and a duffel bag hanging from one shoulder. He had changed out of his uniform. His nose and eyes were noticeably red.

They had been sitting inside the car, waiting for him. As soon as she saw him, Kristina signaled for the driver to go. Wilhelm would ride in a separate car with his bodyguards. She could not sit with him for the entire two hours to Stockholm. 

“Kristina,” Ludvig began. 

“Please, don’t,” she cut him off before he could say anything else. She didn’t mean to take it out on him. He watched her for a moment before looking out the window in silence. She did the same. 

She needed to be alone with her thoughts. She would only have two hours for it. 

Jan-Olof arranged for the Royal Court to meet as soon as the Queen arrived. Kristina needed to have the whole picture as soon as possible. As she walked through the Palace doors, she was back on problem-solving mode. 

“Mum-”

“Go to your room. We will discuss this later,” she said, not even turning to look at Wilhelm. His car had been a few minutes behind her and Ludvig’s. 

“I just-”

“Wilhelm.” She once again punctuated his name with a look, and turned sharply to face him, to show him how serious she was. “Go to your room.” 

In her head, she sounded like a neurotic mother from an American television show. Much worse. 

“I thought the reason you made me come was so that I could be a part of the Royal Court meeting, otherwise I could very well have stayed back at Hillerska.”

“Wilhelm, right now I need you to go to your room.”

There was a silence. His eyes were downcast, fingers picking at the strap of the duffel bag hanging from his shoulder. 

“I’m not sorry for what I did. But I am sorry for how I did it,” he finally said, then paused. “Maybe not too sorry.”

“I bet you are not. I don’t think you are aware of what you’ve done,” Kristina retorted.  

A couple of weeks ago, Wilhelm would have started yelling, berating, throwing a tantrum. Now, he was calm and subdued and resigned as he walked away, hands in his pockets, and headed up the long staircase. Before Malin and Joakim could follow, she gestured for them to listen. 

“Keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t try to escape through a window or something,” she said, entertaining the idea that Wilhelm could be so histrionical. 

The bodyguards nodded and bowed and chorused ‘yes, ma’am’, before following their charge upstairs. She watched them go, shaking her head in disbelief.

She still couldn’t believe this day. She felt like she had entered a parallel dimension.

“Is the Crown Prince really a flight risk, ma’am?” Jan-Olof asked with his regular frumpiness. 

“Perhaps not, but I wouldn’t necessarily put it past him. My son does seem to have a flare for the melodramatic, as the whole country was able to see today,” she said, already exhausted. “I will go change and be ready to meet shortly.”

“Very well, ma’am,” Jan-Olof said, bowing as she walked past him toward the stairs. 

Halfway up, she glanced over her shoulder. Ludvig stood in the middle of the hall, hands in his pockets, looking meditative. He glanced up at her as if he had sensed that she was watching him and offered a sad smile before looking down again and just standing there. 

She would have liked for him to come with her, would have liked his company. But she also didn’t have time for that. So she kept going on her own.

Kristina spent the rest of the day with the Royal Court in the conference room, discussing the events. They went over everything, Farima and Minou delivering stats over and over again as they updated: how many news channels covering it, how many discussion panels, how many views on Youtube, on Instagram, on TikTok, on Facebook, on Twitter… 

It was viral already, it was everywhere, literally like a virus.

As bad as it had seemed the first time around, this time was even worse.

There were reporters outside of Drottningholm Palace, they had arrived almost as soon as the family had returned. According to Farima, there were at least seven news channels transmitting live. The Drottningholm Palace tours were cancelled for the day, and security was increased. 

They went over every single scenario, every possible solution and every outcome. Almost every single one of them put them back at square one. Almost every single one was truly improbable. Pointless.

Kristina could tell that they would be working until very late today. They would take a break and reconvene after dinner. 

She wandered aimless around the Palace for a bit. She thought about going to her office or any other room where she could go to think and be unbothered. But her feet carried her to her and Ludvig’s bedroom. 

To her surprise, Ludvig was getting up from the bed. 

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” She asked. He shook his head.

“No, it’s fine. It’s been a long day. Perhaps you could do with a nap yourself,” he said, getting up to change. 

“I could not sleep right now,” she said, sitting in a comfortable armchair by the window. 

“Did you come up with something?”

“Not yet. We’re taking a break. I need a break.”

Ludvig called to bring them tea, and ten minutes later there was a tray with a pot of boiled water and two cups. Ludvig busied himself with pouring both cups, whilst Kristina leaned back in her chair, feeling tension in her shoulders and her neck. Perhaps she would need something stronger than tea.

Suddenly Wilhelm burst through the doors and strode in. 

It wasn’t an angry stride, like she expected, it was more urgent. He had his phone in his hand, and he looked like he was trying to keep calm. 

“He’s trapped,” he said, once he was standing in front of her. She blinked in confusion.

“What?”

“We need to do something, please,” he said. He stood before her, his face contorted with worry. 

The last time Wilhelm had burst into their room looking like that, he had still been a little boy, about seven years old, and strange noises had woken him in the middle of the night; so the little boy ventured through the dark corridors all the way to his parents’ bedroom and in a meek and nervous voice asked if his mother could please come back to his room with him, as she often did when he got scared like that. He rarely asked for his dad, most times he wanted his mum. 

“Who is trapped?” Kristina asked. 

“Simon, mum! They followed him home. The paparazzi, the reporters. They’ve surrounded his house. They’ve had to close all the windows and curtains and they can’t go out. He’s trapped in his house. His mum is trapped, how is she going to go to work tomorrow? How is he supposed to go to school?” 

Kristina pinched the bridge of her nose, and sighed, exhausted. Her head hurt too.

“What do you want me to do?”

“I want you- no, I need you to send a security detail over to him, please. Someone who can drive away the media. Someone who can make sure they’re okay. Please.”

Kristina sighed again. “Wilhelm, you know very well I can’t do that. It’s not my call to make. Official security details are only for Royal House members. There is no justification for requesting a civilian’s house to be guarded under these circumstances.”

Wilhelm clutched his phone with both hands, holding them in front of his chest like he was praying. 

“We can’t just-”

“What did you expect to happen, Wilhelm?” She interrupted him, annoyed. “You announced to the world your connection to this boy, and now you’re surprised that the press is hounding him at his own house.”

“His name is Simon,” he said, irked, brow furrowed.

“I know his name,” she responded, equally irked.

“You seem to forget sometimes.”

“Wilhelm…”

“I was just trying to be honest. For once in my life,” he stated, sounding calm and collected, diplomatic. Kristina nodded in acknowledgment. They had very differing concepts on honesty, she feared. Honesty in her book was something that neither of them could afford to do on a whim. Honesty was a double-edged sword in their lives, much more dangerous.  

“I’m sorry, älskling, but I can’t do anything,” she responded. He stared at her, his eyes sad.

“Can’t or won’t?”

“I can’t,” she repeated firmly. He took a deep breath.

“Then I’m going to go over there, and maybe my bodyguards, who have to protect me, can also protect-”

“You will do no such thing. You are not leaving this house.”

Her words came out louder and harsher than she intended, lingering between them for a while. 

Wilhelm looked like he’d been slapped. Worse, he looked like he’d been slapped on the wrist. Like a child. 

Without another word, he turned on his heels and left. Kristina half expected to hear a string of curse words, a frustrated scream, a vase smashing outside, or some other poor inanimate object to pay the price, but nothing came. 

That last time that Wilhelm had burst in seeking his mother’s comfort, nine years ago now, had been the last time, because Kristina had told him something very similar. Will do no such thing. She had told him that he was old enough now, that he needed to go back to his room by himself. There was nothing to fear, the noises were just noises. He was being absurd, he was old enough to know better. 

The little boy, with tears in his eyes, had gone back to his room, and he never came back. 

Wilhelm didn’t join them for dinner. Ludvig had them send some dinner up to his room, but after a while the maid came back relaying the message that the Crown Prince wasn’t hungry. The staff reported that Wilhelm hadn’t eaten anything at all that day. 

He had already skipped dinner the night before, and he had no breakfast or lunch, and now no dinner. Wilhelm had not eaten anything for over twenty four hours. 

“It’s like he’s gone on a hunger strike,” she huffed.

“He might still be sick. He did say he hadn’t been feeling well,” Ludvig pointed out.

“That was on Friday, and he said it was because of the nerves.”

“He’s still anxious. A lot has happened.”

“He needs to eat.”

“He’s worried about Simon.”

She put her fork down onto her plate. “Let’s not talk about that right now.”

Wilhelm had also stayed in his room since she had sent him there, and had only come out when he sought out his mother’s help. She didn’t see him for the rest of the day.

The meeting continued well into the night. She was exhausted. Ludvig was waiting for her, sitting up in bed, reading a book. She went over the brief of the meeting with him, asking him what he thought. Ludvig had listened the entire time in silence, until she finished talking.

“I went to see Wilhelm earlier.”

He said it like it hadn’t occurred to her that she could do that too. She would, but she was still too frustrated with Wilhelm and she had a lot to do. She was in problem-solving mode still and she hardly expected her son to be much help. He had seldom been in the past.  

“You did?” She asked, already knowing what would come next.

“He was on the phone with Simon,” Ludvig said, and she looked expectant. “He looks tired.”

“Of course he’s tired, he hasn’t eaten anything all day,” she replied. “Did he say anything to you?”

“Just that the paparazzi haven’t left. He’s very worried.”

Kristina nodded. The thing was that she could in fact do something to resolve that situation, but justifying it meant attracting more attention to Simon. She made a note to have Minou contact the local Bjärstad police to assess how bad the situation was. Perhaps they could do something about it. 

“He wants to go back. He says that he should have stayed,” Ludvig added. Kristina let out a long sigh. 

“Absolutely not. He needs to be here, to work this out. He acted impulsively and now we have decisions to make,” she said, not unkindly. Her frustration was not directed at her husband. Ludvig sighed.

“But you haven’t had him in the meetings. When will you include him?”

She rubbed her forehead. She was tired, tense and felt like a migraine might begin. She stood up to go change, starting with removing her jewelry. Ludvig followed her to her vanity.

“Ludvig, you didn’t hear him that time. He literally said he would abdicate. He threatened to go live on social media to announce it himself. And all because that boy was on a date with someone else? How am I supposed to trust him?” She asked, looking at her husband in the mirror. He stood behind her, shaking his head. 

“Kristina, that was weeks ago. And he’s been going to therapy, and it does seem like he’s managing much better. We should have had him go to therapy ages ago. We’ve always known how difficult it’s been for him, the public scrutiny, the way that people treat him differently…” he said. “I think we’re still predisposed to the way that he used to react.”

Ludvig was right. Wilhelm seemed to be in control of his emotions, or at least working on it. It couldn’t have been easy. Not after the video, not after August. Not after Erik.

She glanced to the right at the two pictures of her children. She always kept tiny portraits of Erik and Wilhelm on her vanity, from when they were small. They weren’t official portraits, they were taken by Ludvig. Erik was eleven in his. She started at seven-year-old Wilhelm’s big gap-toothed grin (his two front baby teeth had been the first to go), brown eyes sparkling. The same little boy who would come into his parents’ room seeking comfort when noises in the night scared him. 

Somewhere along the way, he had become detached, temperamental, consumed by anxiety, even joyless. The only one who could still managed to get him to smile like that had been Erik. 

“He’s changed,” Kristina mused. Ludvig nodded.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Kristina sighed again. She no longer knew what she wanted.

The next morning, Minou came back with information from the Bjärstad Police; they had already received several reports of a throng of paparazzi and reporters surrounding the Eriksson house, and officers had been sent to make sure they weren’t disturbing traffic or trespassing on private property, but as long as they didn’t actually disrupt public order, the police couldn’t do anything. The number of press members had waned considerably during the night, but they had simply returned the next morning in greater number. 

In the meantime, Farima reported a sizable manifestation on the grounds of the palace; a large LGBTQ+ rights group. News crews were interviewing people and broadcasting live. Security maintained a perimeter around the palace.

“Will the Crown Prince be joining us for today’s meeting?” Jan-Olof asked. They were all sitting down for the morning meeting, with only one point in the day’s agenda. 

Kristina cleared her throat. “I suppose not, if he hasn’t graced us with his presence yet.”

Jan-Olof looked glanced at Minou before looking back at her. “Perhaps we could make better progress if we make sure he knows he’s welcome. Shall I call him to check?” 

Kristina blinked. She had indeed told Wilhelm to go to his room when he asked if he could join the meeting yesterday. 

“By all means,” she said. “If he deigns to answer you.”

They watched Jan-Olof making the call, and after a moment Kristina could hear the busy tone coming from his phone. He decided to send a text message.

There were two options, as far as she knew; either Wilhelm was ignoring them, too busy sulking in his room, or he was on the phone with Simon. Either way she didn’t expect him to answer to Jan-Olof. Wilhelm rarely ever wanted to talk to Jan-Olof, anyway.

“He says he’s on the phone with Mr. Eriksson,” Jan-Olof announced after a few minutes.

Kristina didn’t say anything. It seemed to her that Wilhelm’s priorities were clear. 

“Well, we have a lot to do, and we don’t have time to wait for him to finally decide to join us,” she stated. “Farima, Minou, please continue.”

The whole morning went by. So far, the only real progress they had made was to obtain a qualified counselor certified in LGBTQ+ matters, with whom they would have a conference call in the afternoon. 

They talked about the evidence they still had of the person responsible for the leaked video and what they could do with it. They discussed all the possible legal scenarios, how they could spin them to their advantage, or at least not to their detriment. They talked about what they could do about the footage for A Year with the Royal Family. 

Minou would draft a statement, addressing the Crown Prince’s speech. Farima would look into another possible interview with Rosenqvist. 

“Your Majesty, the Crown Prince asks if anything has been decided yet. He wants to know when he can go back home to Hillerska,” Farima said, reading from her phone. Kristina frowned in confusion. 

“He texted you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Kristina kept her face neutral. This was Christmas break all over again. 

“Tell him he can go home whenever he pleases.”

She remembered his texts when he asked, begged to come back home. This was his home back then. Since when did he call Hillerska home without any irony in his voice, without it being written for him in a speech?

Farima hesitantly wrote back to Wilhelm.

Kristina didn’t get a migraine, but she had a headache by the end of the day. She also lost her appetite. She asked the kitchen staff to make a soup for dinner, something very light that she could stomach. She hoped that would also be light enough to convince Wilhelm to eat something. 

He still didn’t come to have dinner with his parents. But at least the maid reported that he accepted the soup in his room.

She and Ludvig sat alone at the dining table. The vegetable soup was restorative, exactly that she needed. 

Ludvig asked him about the meeting briefing, and Kristina reluctantly told him all about it.

“He told Farima he wanted to know when he could go home,” she said, disdain in her voice.

“Hmm,” Ludvig simply said, all too fixated on his spoon all of a sudden. 

“I suppose he didn’t believe me when I said that he could leave,” She said, before adding hesitantly, “did he?”

“I don’t think so, he’s still in his room,” Ludvig replied. “Has a statement been prepared?”

“Not yet.”

Ludvig seemed to expect her to say something more, but she moved on to other topics as they finished dinner. Kristina felt better, but she wanted nothing more than to go to bed early. 

She headed to the bedroom, and Ludvig followed. He stood near the door as she called to have tea brought up and something for her headache. 

“Kristina, have you been watching the news?” He finally asked. 

“I don’t see what good that would do,” she replied. She didn’t want to hear it, but Ludvig looked so concerned that she knew he was going to tell her anyway. 

“The public seems to be under the impression that we’re trying to hide Wilhelm away for coming out,” he said. “That we might try to make him take it back. They’re concerned that the monarchy is not going to accept a queer prince.”

She didn’t say anything. 

“They also seem worried about Simon, that he’s being cast aside.”

“Ludvig, this is precisely why I do not watch the news in regards to things like this. News channels will do anything to get viewers.”

“It’s not the news anchors reading from a teleprompter, it’s the people out there, the people in the crowd outside the palace, that are saying these things,” he pointed in the general direction of the outside world. “You can’t ignore what they people are saying. Especially if we haven’t said anything. They’re expecting something.”

Kristina’s countenance changed when she heard a butler knock on the door. Ludvig opened the door for him, and the young man came in with a tray with tea and placed it on the round table in the parlour. Kristina thanked him and took the painkiller for her headache as he left.

She sat on one of the chairs and started to brew herself a cup of tea, gesturing to her husband that she was making him one too. There was a long stretch of silence, populated only by the light clattering of the china set and teaspoons. 

“Are we just going to keep him here? Like a prince locked in a tower?” He asked, looking out the window.

Kristina looked at Ludvig over the rim of her steaming cup. 

“There are no stories of princes locked in towers, Ludvig.”

“This might be the first one, then,” he said. She took a sip of her tea, letting the hot liquid warm her body. 

“This is more firsts than I can handle,” she said, tired and morose. This was the only time and place where she allowed herself to be so vulnerable, in her room with her husband. He had seen her at every stage of her reign, he knew what it was like for her. And now more than ever she needed him to be her support system.

“How am I supposed to know what to do now?” She asked, letting out a long sigh.

“You’re not expected to know,” Ludvig said, sitting on the other chair. 

“I am, and you know it. I am the Queen.”

“I mean that you’re not expected to figure it out on your own,” he said, taking the cup of tea and taking a sip, before adding: “You should talk to him.”

Kristina shook her head slowly. “I don’t know if I want to hear what he has to say.”

“Then I really don’t know how you expect us to move forward,” Ludvig replied, leaning back on the chair with a tired sigh. He continued to sip his tea, whilst Kristina stared into her cup, like she hoped that the leaves swirling at the bottom would reveal some sort of answer.

“He hates me,” she muttered. Ludvig set down his cup.

“He does not hate you.”

“He sees me as the enemy. I’ve betrayed him not once, not twice, not even three times-”

“I don’t know how you’re counting.”

Kristina stood up, thankful that the headache was starting to wane. She paced in front of her husband. “I told him to deny the video, I protected August, I made August his backup, and now I’ve… locked him in a tower, as you say. I’m the villain of this story. Why would he talk to me? Why would he trust me?”

Ludvig leaned forward on his chair. “He does not hate you, and you are not the villain.”

Kristina chuckled without mirth and wrapped her arms around herself. “That’s easy for you to say. He will never see you as the villain.” 

Ludvig stood up and walked over to her, wrapping his own arms around her, rubbing her back. 

“He doesn’t want you to be the villain. He wants you to be on his side.”

Kristina pressed her face to Ludvig’s shoulder, feeling warm and a little bit more relaxed. She was still afraid.

“Talk to him. Listen to him,” Ludvig offered, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Kristina waited until the headache was gone before she decided to pay her son a visit at last. She also needed to muster up the energy, self-control and courage to do so.

She needed energy because lately talking to Wilhelm turned into a confrontation, and she needed to be in the right mindset to not storm out to get away from him. 

She also needed courage because, despite what Ludvig had said, she feared that she and Wilhelm would never see eye to eye, never find a middle ground.

Things with Erik had always been simpler, they had always flowed more naturally. With Wilhelm it was always a battlefield. 

As she approached Wilhelm’s room, she put on her invisible armor and braced herself. 

“Is he in there?” She asked Malin, who was standing outside the door. Malin bowed her head.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Are you sure?” She asked, half-joking. Malin nodded.

“He’s asleep, ma’am.”

“It’s only seven p.m,” Kristina noted.

“He said he was tired, ma’am.” 

“Or so he wants you to believe.” 

Malin nodded again. “I just checked, ma’am.”

Kristina sighed. “Very well. I better not go in there and find a bunch of pillows and a blond wig under the bedsheets,” she joked mirthlessly. Malin’s eyes smiled, unable to hide her amusement.

“Be careful, ma’am, the lights are low,” she whispered, opening the door for her. 

Kristina walked in, stepping gently, in case Wilhelm was indeed asleep, and in case she might step onto something in the dim light. Kristina didn’t doubt Wilhelm’s ability to turn his room into an absolute mess within minutes of arriving. 

She spotted his silhouette on the bed. He slept in a half-fetal position, facing her, eyes closed, sheets and blankets pushed off his body and pooled around his legs. He wore pajama bottoms, but no shirt. His cheek was pressed against the pillow propped onto his outstretched left arm, his right hand on the mattress beside him. His chest moved with each slow breath. 

Kristina sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to graze his bent knees. She was about to reach a hand to touch his shoulder, to gently wake him up, when she noticed his phone. 

Beside him was another pillow, and his phone was propped upright against it. On the screen, she spotted an ongoing video call. Simon’s sleeping face was almost exactly mirroring Wilhelm’s, except that there was a deep red light shining on him. The call had been open for two hours and eleven minutes. 

Kristina froze. There he was again. This boy who now seemed to occupy every minute of Wilhelm’s time, every thought in his mind.

A little voice in her head just kept asking Why this boy? Why not someone else? Is this really love? 

That little voice was the part of her that always tried to logic her way through life, the part of her in charge of decision-making and problem-solving, that methodically and strategically worked through situations, like a game of chess. The queen part of her. 

And somewhere inside her was the mother she also embodied, the part of her that still mourned her first child and everything he could have been, and still hurt over her youngest’s disdain and still desired for his happiness above all else. That was the part that, unfortunately, she often had to push aside, otherwise she couldn’t get the job done. Otherwise she would let a lot of people down.

It was hard and unpleasant at times, but she had to.

She snapped back to the present, realizing that she had been staring at their faces, no idea for how long, intruding on an intimate moment between them, without their knowledge or consent. That happened too many times for them, and they didn’t deserve it. 

“Wilhelm,” she whispered, touching his shoulder. Wilhelm’s eyes fluttered open, taking a deep breath. He spotted his phone, then he glanced to the side and saw her. He quickly grabbed his phone and pressed the hang up button, before sitting up slowly.

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Even in the dim light she noticed his eyes were red, like he had been crying himself raw.  Squinting at his phone, he tapped something, a text message, most likely to Simon, before flipping the phone shut.

Kristina waited patiently for him to be fully awake, her eyes on the opposite wall. Wilhelm sat with his knees pulled to his chest, and sighed. 

“What did you decide without me?” He asked, his voice hoarse, emotionless.

Kristina looked at him. “Nothing’s been decided yet,” she began, reaching a hand to tame his bedhead. “We have been discussing next steps, but we haven’t decided anything without you. However-”

He turned away, shaking his head. He still wouldn’t meet her eyes. She rolled hers.

“I was going to say that tomorrow we want you to come and discuss it with us.”

Wilhelm looked down at his knees. “What’s the point of pretending to include me if you’re just going to do whatever you want?”

She sighed, exasperated. “Wilhelm-”

“Are you going to listen to me if I go to the meetings? You don’t seem to be listening to me right now.”

“We are listening. We will listen.”

Wilhelm shook his head and finally met her eyes, looking earnest. “No, I don’t mean you as in everyone. I don’t mean the Royal Court. I mean you. You. My mother.”

“Of course I will listen to you,” Kristina said, her expression softening. Wilhelm continued to shake his head. 

“But you haven’t. You haven’t been listening. I told you what I needed. I need you to help Simon. I need you to protect him. I asked you. I asked nicely. And you haven’t done anything,” Wilhelm said, his voice soft. He hadn’t raised his tone at all. “He can’t leave his house, his family is under siege. He couldn’t go to school today, his mum had to call to excuse herself from work. They can’t get groceries, they can’t go anywhere. And I’m here, and you won’t… you’re just going to let it happen all over again. It’s the… it’s like the fucking video all over again.”

Kristina took a deep breath to keep calm. “Wilhelm, I already told you, it can’t be done. And you’re the one who brought up the video again, remember? In front of a crowd and cameras.”

Wilhelm continued to shake his head. His eyes were glistening. “I won’t leave him alone again. Either you help him or I’m leaving. I’m not letting you trap me here for a week or more, without being able to do anything. I won’t let you force me to say anything I don’t want to say.”

Kristina stood up, frustrated, and turned to face him, knowing well that he wouldn’t meet her gaze. “Wilhelm, listen to me now. We are trying to deal with the consequences of what you did. You’ve put us in a very difficult position. Our main concern right now is your safety-”

A tear escaped Wilhelm’s eye. Kristina watched him, impassive. Wilhelm indeed had always had a flare for the dramatic. 

His gaze was fixed on his lap, shoulders slumped. But his face didn’t betray anger or frustration. His expression was blank, and he was shaking his head slowly, almost imperceptibly, a gesture of resignation.

“Wilhelm, calm down,” she said, certain that some sort of outburst was inevitable. 

Instead, he closed his eyes, and the tears that had pooled in them overflowed, trailing down his cheeks. He looked exhausted. His voice came out in a breathy, shaky whisper.

“Am I being punished for being queer?”

The question lingered in the air for a long moment, as Kristina felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. He suddenly looked so fragile, like porcelain glistening in the dim light. He was the little boy again, who was scared of noises in his bedroom, who would try fruitlessly to contain his tears and hesitate before seeking comfort in her arms again. 

Her throat felt tight and itchy. “No, gubben,” she said, voice unexpectedly thick. He sniffed. 

“Am I being punished for… for coming out?” He asked, lips trembling, shrugging his shoulders as if that were his best guess, as if there couldn’t possibly be any other option. 

Kristina looked up at the ceiling, her own eyes misting over, before looking back at him.  

“There is no punishment going on, Wilhelm.”

He met her gaze again, brown eyes full of sorrow.

“It feels very much like I am… you get why, don’t you?”

Kristina approached him again, breathing slow. She swallowed hard and touched his face gently. “Älskling, your father and I love you just the way you are, I told you this before. We really do. It’s just…” she trailed off. There was no way to express that things would be so much simpler if he weren’t queer, without it sounding horrible, without doing further damage. 

 “I’m sorry that you feel this way, gubben. We are not punishing you. But I’m not exaggerating when I say that this is a very difficult situation that you’ve created.”

Wilhelm’s tears hadn’t stopped. “I was just trying to be honest,” he said very quietly. She nodded. 

“I know.”

“It’s just… nothing I do seems to be enough,” he said, dejected. 

Kristina shook her head, caressing his cheek again, wiping a tear away.

“I’m sorry, älskling.”

He wiped his cheeks, and took a deep, trembling breath again. 

“I would really appreciate it if you to be honest with me too, for once,” he said.

Kristina stared at him for a moment, searching his face. She nodded. Wilhelm licked his lips before speaking again.

“I’m not asking for much. If this were Erik, and this were about a girl he loved, you wouldn’t even hesitate.”

“That would be a completely different situation,” Kristina responded, not unkindly.

“Because Simon is a boy,” Wilhelm stated. 

Kristina bit her lip. Under any other circumstances… 

“You are asking me to be honest,” she said, before adding, “yes, because he’s a boy.”

Wilhelm closed his eyes. Kristina took the chance to wipe a rogue tear from her eyes.  

“You once told me that you had an unfortunate romance,” he said quietly. “You told me that because you think this is an unfortunate romance too. But it’s not. And I just don’t understand why you can’t see that…”

Kristina didn’t say anything, her eyes fixing on Wilhelm’s phone. 

Yes, she could see that, she wasn’t so blind or in denial about it. She could see it in the way that they smiled at each other during Wilhelm’s speech, like only they existed; she could see it in the way they spoke to each other without having to utter a single word, and the way that they seemed inseparable. She could see it in the way that, even miles away from each other, they were still comforted by each other’s presence, that they would fall asleep next to each other even if it could only be through a screen. She could see it in the way that her son was willing to do anything for Simon. 

She could see it, but accepting it was a whole other matter.

It wasn’t about her. Under any other circumstances, she wouldn’t even bat an eye about it, it would be entirely his life, his choice.

It was about the monarchy. And it was about the rest of the world.

It was what had plagued her ever since the video first came out: the rest of the whole world, who dared to watch it, a video with two underaged boys being caught unaware in an intimate moment, who dared to judge and make assumptions, who dared to make it their business. Who spread it around like entertainment, like a meme. Who enthusiastically participated in the decay of this godforsaken society.  

And it was the institution that tacitly reinforced that this could not, would not be allowed. 

She wasn’t about to lay all of that on her son, but she was about to say something else, something more offhanded than that, when Wilhelm wrapped his arms around himself, grimacing, like he was cold and in pain, fresh tears cascading down his cheeks. 

“I can’t leave him alone. I can’t,” he said, his voice dim, like it hurt to even speak. “Please let me go back. Or at least please listen, I need you to listen to me. I need you to understand.” He tried to contain a sob as he looked up at her with pleading eyes. 

“His life could be in danger. If you’re worried about my safety, I can’t help but be worried about his, for the exact same reason.”

“Please,” he said again, more earnestly than he had the previous day.

At that moment, the chess game was put on hold, and the mother side of her took over. She pulled her son into her arms and hugged him, and she was relieved when he didn’t try to pull away but instead melted into her embrace, putting his head on her shoulder. She turned her head to kiss his temple.

“I’ll see what I can do, älskling. I promise,” she said. “Please just stay one more day. I promise that we will discuss everything with you, and that we will decide together.”

He nodded against her shoulder, and she sighed in relief. 

That same night, Kristina contacted Minou and told her to submit a request for a temporary security detail to be dispatched to the Eriksson home in Bjärstad. Even if the reporters and paparazzi could not be sent away, they would make sure that they kept their distance from the house, and they would escort Simon to the school the next morning.

In the morning, Wilhelm joined them in the meeting. He looked tired, eyes still red and swollen from the previous night, but he was there, ready to asume his role. 

There was still only one point in the agenda for the day. The Royal Court agreed to change their strategy: Simon would be presented as a suitable match for Wilhelm. 

“A match? Like we’re getting married or something? We’re sixteen,” Wilhelm asked, annoyed.

“The Crown Prince must understand, this is how the public will see it,” Jan-Olof responded. Wilhelm took a deep breath before speaking again.

“I don’t care how the public sees it, you are not dictating his life, he’s not doing anything he doesn’t want to do.”

Kristina took a deep breath. “Of course not, Wilhelm. Everything will be discussed with him and his mother beforehand.”

It was an unfortunate fact; as much as Kristina would have liked for the Royal Court to take absolute control, Simon was still a minor and thus his legal guardian was still his mother. So the Royal Court started on a list of all the things that they would need to do, and how to approach them with Simon and his mother. 

The first thing on the list was the prospect of getting Simon to move into Forest Ridge, for his safety. The media would not go away, so the best thing would be for him to become a boarder at the house, where it would be guaranteed that he would not be under siege. The Royal Court would speak to the school board to ask about a mid-term inclusion. Simon would apply to a grant for boarding in Forest Ridge, and the Court would intervene on his behalf to ensure that he would obtain it. 

“If he and his mother agree, of course,” Minou stated. 

Other points on the list was to make an appointment with the Erikssons to discuss matters of safety protocols, royal protocols, social media management, media training, privacy, legalities, etc. 

“I want to be included in those discussions, if possible,” Wilhelm said. “I know there are some where I can’t participate, because they’re private family matters, but whenever I can be present, please include me.”

“Very well,” Minou said, making notes. Kristina smiled proudly at Wilhelm. 

Farima prepared a statement to be shared in all official communication channels, as well as be sent to the press. Kristina read the draft over and set it down, satisfied. 

“I think this looks really good,” she said. “I would suggest you add ‘severe’ before the word ‘violation’, precisely to emphasize the severity of the situation,” she added, nodding her head as Farima took notes. She then looked to Wilhelm to see his reaction. Her throat tightened when she saw his face; his eyes were glistening with tears and his lips were pressed together. He nodded slowly and put down the statement. 

“Thank you, I really appreciate it,” he said in a low voice. “Can we send it to him and his mother before we send it out? I want to make sure it’s okay by him.”

Everyone exchanged glances. Kristina nodded. “No problem. Just make sure he replies by the end of the day, so we can send it out first thing tomorrow.”

Wilhelm got them to agree to his return to Hillerska that afternoon, so he could arrive at least by dinnertime and be well rested for the next day of school. 

At midday he sat down to eat lunch with his parents, and although he was still tired, his mood had noticeably improved. At least for the moment

“What are you going to do about August?” He asked when the Royal Court reconvened after lunch. Jan-Olof cleared his throat but said nothing and just looked at the Queen.

Kristina took a deep breath, wondering if this time whatever she said might trigger an outburst. “We don’t know yet.” 

“Is he still my backup?” 

“For the moment,” she answered. “But we will come up with a plan B.”

“I thought he was plan B,” Wilhelm said. Kristina hesitated.

“That’s right, yes,” she replied, “a plan C, then. But in the meantime, let’s leave everything as is. Once everything has quieted down again, perhaps we can meet again and decide together. I think we have plenty to deal with right now.”

Wilhelm stared at her, as if he were deciding if he should trust what she was saying. Kristina cleared her throat.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, to pretend that everything is fine, but I’m being completely honest, Wilhelm. This is not about letting him off the hook, it’s not about rewarding him. It’s about not drawing any more unnecessary attention on the whole matter if possible. The video is making the rounds again on television and social media, we knew this would happen, so it would be best not to blow the scandal out of proportion again. For your sake and for Simon’s. That is all.”

Kristina reached her hand out to Wilhelm. “We support you, Wilhelm. You and Simon. And our main focus right now is to ensure your safety and your privacy. So let us focus on that, and we’ll take care of everything else as it seems fit.”

Taking her hand, Wilhelm finally nodded.

A couple of hours later, Wilhelm was all packed and ready to go. Malin and Joakim loaded the bags onto the car and waited by it as the Crown Prince said goodbye to his parents inside. Kristina waited as Wilhelm hugged his father, then stepped over to her.

She touched his face, which was no longer red and swollen from crying. He was actually smiling. He hadn’t smiled at her in a long time. He didn’t look so fragile anymore.

“Thank you for listening to me,” he said. She smiled back, but faltered for a moment. 

“Wilhelm, you understand that this entire situation could have been handled better,” she said. Wilhelm nodded.

“Sometimes you have to risk a little to gain a lot,” he muttered sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders. 

Kristina pulled him into a hug, and he hugged her back, much longer than she expected, much longer than they had in years.

Kristina had never been very effusive with her children, she was made to believe it would make it more difficult for them to develop the character that they would need to be royals. Now she wished she had held her children all the time, in any way possible, every chance that she had. She couldn’t hold Erik anymore, but she could still hold Wilhelm.

She pulled away to look up at his face. He had changed; he seemed a little weathered, but definitely wiser and more mature. Maybe he was prepared for everything that was coming, but she was still uneasy. 

She had wanted to protect him from all of it, she wished she could protect him forever, but he was already carving his own path in life, making his own choices. There was no stopping him anymore, no matter how much she wished to take control.

“It’s not only what this means for the Crown, Wilhelm. I’m still your mother. And I’m scared,” she whispered. He sighed.

“I know. I’m scared too, but not so much anymore,” he said. He hugged her again.

Ludvig told him to let them know when he got to Hillerska, and Kristina reminded him about the press release. Wilhelm waved goodbye as he walked to the door. They watched him get into the car and drive away. They watched him as the car disappeared around the corner of the palace. 

“Come on, we need tea,” Ludvig said, putting his hand on her back and she let herself be led away.

From The Royal Court’s Media Centre

Official Press Release

A Statement from Drottningholm Palace

 

Her Majesty the Queen and the Royal House wish to express their support for His Royal Highness the Crown Prince, in light of his recent speech during the Hillerska Skolan Jubilee celebration.

The family stands by his decision to speak out, and the bravery and integrity he displayed during his speech.

The Royal House send their sincere gratitude for the messages of support and encouragement for the Crown Prince, and request that the public respect his privacy. 

The video that was made public last year was nothing short of a severe violation of the Crown Prince’s and Mr. Simon Eriksson’s privacies. The Royal House condemns the recording and dissemination of any photography or video that infringes upon an individual’s intimacy, especially when the parties involved are legal minors. 

An official investigation on this occurrence is ongoing, and all sensitive information will remain confidential. 

 

Press contacts

Information and Press Department

Notes:

Chapter 2 will be from Simon’s POV.