Chapter Text
Not a soul outside of the Crown Prince’s room knew. The best kept secret in all the land was not some sorcerer’s spell. It was the state of health that Crown Prince Erik lived in. Ever so charming as he remained from his bed, perhaps he could even fool his own mother into thinking that he truly could succeed her one day. He’d claim his birth right and be the steady king his people so deserved to hold pride for. But it wasn’t so. Erik had been bedridden for some time now. Queen Kristina had taken tight control over the fairy tale image her son was supposed to portray ever since. Although the circumstances were saddening, anyone around her would have to admit that her efforts and strategizing were admiring qualities that she made use of with all might. Erik himself had been understanding when she’d sat on the side of his bed explaining to him that the peace of the people had to be protected at all costs. She told him that he would make a full recovery and that when that time came, there would be no doubtfire for him to stamp out. He deserved a fair start, unlike what Queen Kristina herself had been dealt. So, the right story telling was of utmost importance to do right by her son.
Erik’s brother Prince Wilhelm had been considerably burdened with the task of that story telling. The princely brothers had always shared a special bond with each other, so the news of Erik’s affliction had nailed its way into Wilhelm’s heart. With no actual room or time to process what this all meant, mother Kristina hammered his grief in place with this task. The task of speaking in good spirit of your dear sickly sibling. Plastering on a prideful smile as you account the umpteenth fictional event your brother excelled in. Always avoiding any talk of the Crown Prince having the time of day to see his future subjects. The man really is just that occupied with becoming the greatest leader his people could ever wish for.
At first Wilhelm had complied with this task to help his brother whichever way he was able to, but it quickly turned into an emotional labour that weighed too heavy on his heart. He started slipping up from time to time as a result. Trying to find joy around him and figure out what made him feel passionate in life was how Wilhelm tried to balance his emotional wellbeing for the better. The prince enjoyed horse riding and often went just outside of the perimeter of where he was allowed to go. To dance around the boundaries of what was acceptable to his background was something Wilhelm revelled in. It was thrilling to step outside of the perfectly sculpted box he’d been born into. He loved to get his hands dirty in the garden, he loved to be creative and paint silly things, he loved to endlessly decorate his rooms. He loved, he loved, he loved.
♆ ♆ ♆
One night the stars sing to him
He will open his eyes
The twinkling singing right back
He’ll wear a sheer disguise
The light an ancient old guide
Will see him seek with eyes wide
Meeting, meeting, meeting
Until his head tilts aloft
A reckoning begins
When soft meets soft
♆ ♆ ♆
Early morning light filters into the room when Wilhelm awakes. It smells oddly of hay here, he thinks. Which turns out to be a positive guess when he feels the digging of the wheat and white feathers become more prominent under him. That has him sitting up straight in a nanosecond. Taking in his surroundings, he realises he’s not in the royal stables, let alone one of his rooms. No, he’s spent the night on a makeshift bed, in god-knows-where. He doesn’t remember drinking or even leaving his bed last night, yet there’s a headache for the ages taking form in his skull right now. He’s in his pyjama’s. The soft material bringing him minimal comfort. His initials and insignia embroidered onto the breast pocket that rests over his speeding heart. Tentatively, he gets up, trying not to make a sound.
Peering out of the window, he sees some grazing cows atop a small hill. The sun warming his profile in gold. The countryside introduces him to the sound of peace until it’s slit through.
“You know, I’d gladly pay more taxes if it meant getting to see you in gold instead of your brother.” A sleep ridden voice announces from the doorway. Wilhelm meets the gaze of an attractive smirking boy. He’s charming, Wilhelm thinks, but should he remember him? The boy walks over to him. “How are you feeling after last night?” he asks. Should he lie? Tell the truth? Nothing of last night is coming to him. He doesn’t know if he can trust this stranger but also, he needs to get home somehow, preferably before the palace sends out a search party. So he answers, “to be fair man, I’m a little stunned as to how I got here? I don’t think I remember anything, but my head is hurting and I just- I want to go home.” He ends on a somewhat watery note. The stress of the trouble he’s in completely catching up with him now.
The boy frowns. “You’re fine ‘man’,” he says rolling his eyes, an annoyed expression flashing over his face. “If you just follow me, there’s breakfast on the table.” He turns his back on Wilhelm then and walks off.
Making his way to the kitchen, he notes much of the house? Or barn? Holds a lot of inventory. Wooden crates with labels on them everywhere, all sorts of luxuries sticking out. Asian silk, fine linen, copper, rum, cocoa, and sugar. And all upon the top of the shelves; muslin and wool. To a prince they aren’t noteworthy but to find them in a place like this… Maybe his people truly are off a lot better than he’d originally thought.
Like promised there is breakfast waiting for him on the table. “Gave it my absolute best Your Highness.” The stranger says. Wilhelm goes to sit next to him and eats. The boy watches him with a solemn smile. It sounded like Wilhelm had offended him earlier somehow. “I uhh-,” he coughs, “I really don’t remember anything. I’m sorry if I’m supposed to remember you from whatever happened last night. You’ve probably shown me a great kindness offering me food and a bed.” He tries to let his sincerity show on his face when he looks at the boy. “Thank you. I’m sorry I just panicked there, I didn’t mean to be rude.” The apology warming his cheeks at his admittance. The embarrassment of his little outburst from earlier settling in. He should be of service to his people, keeping it together, not the other way around.
The boy reaches out across the table then, lightly grabbing Wilhelm’s arm and rubbing it softly. “Hey, it’s okay” he says, his face soft. Wilhelm relaxes under the touch and suddenly he has an inkling of what might’ve happened last night. The warmth in his cheeks now present for an entirely different reason. The boy smiles prettily. “You were so cheerful. You bought everyone drinks ‘on the Royal House!’ you’d said.”
His voice took a sultry turn. “You’d been making eyes at me for some time but even under the ruse of all that joy you didn’t dare make a move.” He smiles at a memory Wilhelm can’t picture. He can hardly imagine himself in such a state and yet, he feels the desire distantly and knows; this has happened. “So I helped you out where you stood,” the boy continues. His face getting closer to Wilhelm’s own again, in an echo of last night, Wilhelm reciprocates in turn. “Right. There,” he whispers, and puts his soft lips to Wilhelm’s own.
The memories do come back then. Every nib at his lower lip seeming to fuel his mind’s eye with past events. The body does not forget it seems. They let go and gaze at each other dreamily. “I’ll get you back to your tower princess, don’t you worry.” He reassures with a teasing smile. “There is some time sensitive business I must attend to first though, is that all right?” he informs Wilhelm carefully. Wilhelm nods, “I never got your name though.” The boy chuckles at that. “It’s Lars.”
♆ ♆ ♆
On the way to the time sensitive business, Lars recounts to Wilhelm what an impression he’d made. “I am truly not kidding you, you did show up in your royal pyjama’s to the bar!” Wilhelm cannot believe him. For one because, okay, as of late he likes to take things to the edge, but he’d never throw himself to trouble that easily. It’s way out of line. Everybody must’ve recognised him. A royal who’s supposed to be becoming. The fool he’s made of himself. He can’t believe Lars on his pretty eyes alone. For his own conscience. Let him live in oblivion just a little longer, if only to keep his heart from speeding out of his chest once again.
Lars let him borrow some rags of his to look the part of a commoner. ‘You’re gonna need it where we’re going’, he’d said, so Wilhelm was sure to keep his head down. They travelled by horse carriage past the cows on the hills, the trees and not too long after that, through the city’s gate. Lars evaded the city centre and steered his horse for the long road through obscure streets for Wilhelm’s sake, coming to a halt at the harbour market.
Lars jumped off the seat then looked at Wilhelm. “Just sit and wait. This won’t take long.” And then he moved to the back of the carriage where two men were already shoving crates into the empty space behind Wilhelm. He heard Lars greeting the men enthusiastically but gave them no room to make conversation. Getting to his affairs instantly. Wilhelm couldn’t see them with his back turned but he could tell that Lars was trying to dodge the elephant with his sure talk.
Heightened by his seat, he watched the merchant vessel before him balance on the ocean’s calm waves. He could see on deck from here, men carrying crates with goods to land. The sea smelled nice. Freeing. The wind blowing in his face from beyond a perimeter Wilhelm never dreamed the possibilities of. He would never go there. It dawned on him in that moment that feeling that breeze here, today, would be the most liberty he’d ever experience.
His sad eyes met the inquisitive ones of a girl aboard the merchant ship. Shit. He’d revelled in his luxury a beat too long and now the liberty was being pulled from under him like a rug. The girl watched him from the steering wheel behind mucky glass, with intense eyes. Wilhelm stayed looking down until finally he felt Lars’ presence climbing up the carriage. A voice hissed to the businessman, making him stop mid climb. “To the ship. Now.” A girl’s voice, no doubt belonging to the intense eyes he’d just met. She’d made her way to them awfully quickly then, Wilhelm thought. Lars followed her where she wanted him and with the utmost carefulness, Wilhelm peeked from under his hood at the couple to find them arguing. He couldn’t hear them, but he didn’t need to. He knew the girl had spotted him and for some reason his presence was rather a nuisance than one of honour.
When Lars finally seated himself beside Wilhelm again, it was with a hard look on his face. A sternness that could rival his mother’s. He whipped his horse into action, and they were off. A quiet settled over them that Wilhelm didn’t dare break. Guilt was eating at him. He’d been nothing but a burden to Lars this whole time. All that for a few kisses. Lars must’ve realised that he wasn’t worth the trouble, right?
They stopped under a tree as Lars turned to him, his face unchanged. “I’m going to drop you off here and you’ll have to make the rest on foot. You can’t be seen with me and I with you.” Wilhelm nodded. He understood. It was too dangerous for the both of them but something in him was still reeling with questions. Questions Lars couldn’t answer for him. It was just that this moment of leaving felt like leaving something much bigger behind. Something he’d only just got to know the crumbs of. He’d felt safe and intimate with Lars in a way he’d never experienced before. He had to meet him again, so he opened his mouth to ask. Then Lars revealed a small dagger from his undercoat, subtly targeting it in Wilhelm’s direction.
Wilhelm gripped the side of the carriage out of fear, never expecting to be thrown like this. “If you tell even the dead of what you’ve seen here today. If you so much as think about writing it in your princely diary, muttering it to your fancy horses, I will make sure that the whole country and the seven seas will catch wind of your little boys-excursion,” he threatened. For what Wilhelm didn’t know but the reasoning was the last thing on his mind as the hurt pulled the corners of his mouth down together with his hope of ever seeing Lars again. Betrayal would settle deeper later. Now, Wilhelm held his tears back out of reflex. An effort for nought as his “okay” cracked from his throat. He got out of the seat and listened to the horse speed off in bewilderment.
♆ ♆ ♆
“A message from the home front.” Rosh said, handing over the cold bottle containing a letter. Her captain nodded absentmindedly in thanks and waited for his first mate to leave the great cabin. He pops the cork from the flask and gets his hands on the crisp letter. All the way from the hills in the mainland of Sweden, up the Rosefield Spår and inside a tucked away stone house, his mother had sat at the table, dipping her quill in ink. He can still picture it. The place always smelled of the blooming of one plant or another. Letters from his mamma should always invoke such rosy memories, he thinks, but the worry in his stomach flares up every time Rosh hands over the salty cold glass bottles.
To my brave son,
The introductions his mother makes might just be the best part of every letter. They change every time to whatever strengthening words she dreams him up to be. It’s comforting. The rest of the content much less so. The situation hasn’t worsened but there’s no process either. Sara’s still putting down hexes around their soil to wade off further invasion, but the greatest damage had already been caused even before they caught whiff of the misfortune coming their way. Land dried and wilted before their eyes, depraving the Eriksson household and family business of the one thing they had going for them.
May your feet touch the soft summer grass soon,
Mamma
The captain cradled the letter to his chest. Despite the sombre content, he still felt her warmth. This was the closest he’d been to his home in four years after all. They’d had cargo to deliver to some of his mainland merchants and of course money to collect. Not that that was any opportunity for Simon to actually set foot on land and see his family. He even wondered if he’d ever be able to bring that fantasy to fruition. He’d made too much of a name and face of himself that resembled certain posters, to even entertain such thoughts.
It was never Simon’s intention to become a sailing captain, nevermind a feared pirate captain variation of that. Gods no, if he could’ve prevented it, he never would have gone to pick up his dad at the bar that night. Now, he was extra wary of the people he trusted and cared about.
It was only after two years of labour on a merchant vessel that he got acquainted with pirate life and two more before Simon became a notorious pirate himself. It could be chalked up to a stroke of luck and necessity, but Simon would only agree with the latter.
♆ ♆ ♆
It’s been a few days since his boys-excursion, as Lars had menacingly called it and things have been suspiciously normal. Wilhelm can’t believe his luck at absolutely nobody missing him. But therein lies the root of his stress as well. Queen Kristina in particular hasn’t needed him this whole time and it makes him wary of his environment. He spots the concerned looks from the servants in the corner of his eye every now and then, which makes him even antsier for the other shoe to drop. He tries his best to soothe himself, make the restlessness go away but he can’t always manage to be discreet about it.
Wilhelm fills up the bath with water and makes his way in after lighting some more scented candles. It always has a calming effect on him, he’s burning them so continuously that all his rooms smell permanently of drywood. It’s the first thing he registers when he wakes up every day. Perhaps the homely scent is the only thing Wilhelm doesn’t change whenever he’s redecorating.
He may have been able close his eyes for five minutes before he hears the unmistakable clicking of heels on his hardwood floors, calmly making their way to the door.
Of course.
Of course, this is how it would go.
She says nothing as she comes in and sits herself down on the chair next to the bath where Wilhelm had thrown his clothes over the backrest. She’s here to give him the intimidating low down where she’s got him cornered. Wilhelm knows this and still he’s not immune to the strategy.
She looks at the floor as she speaks slowly in a whisper like manner. As if she’s afraid the walls would talk.
“In a way you’re lucky that Erik is ill.” Laying the tension on even thicker. Wilhelm doesn’t follow. “What you did goes further than just being irresponsible, Wilhelm.” She says, an eeriness following her tone. “I know it must be hard for you, älskling, taking on Erik’s role, keeping the public at peace but I’m so disappointed, learning that you are not up to the task by any stretch of imagination.” She looks accusingly at him then, making him swallow the rising bile in his throat. It’s as if he’s swallowing the tangible mass of his mother’s disapproval together with his own.
His candles can’t save him now. He feels himself growing taught with unease, and the recognition that she knows. She knows more than she lets on, even now and it drives Wilhelm crazy with fear of what that might mean for him. How far would her wrath go to remain in control of her country? With bated breath he listens to her continue.
“But you are also so young. I don’t think all hope’s lost yet. You just need some straightening out.” She smiles softly. As if she’s unaware of the obliteration she’s causing, Wilhelm knows better though. “Here’s what’s going to happen with you sweetheart; you’re going to pack a bag after your bath and then you’ll spend the afternoon learning basic Dutch.” Kristina continues at Wilhelm’s dumbfounded expression.
“I’ve spent the last two days crafting an elaborate plan with the team of communications, foreign affairs and the royal navy. You’ll be making a life soothing journey across the Arctic and Atlantic oceans to arrive at Wallonia in a few weeks’ time.” Wilhelm knows that won’t entail a vacation as much as Kristina tries to make it sound like the most liberal time of his life. He realizes she’s skirting a possible outburst here, before she drops the shoe in its whole.
“And what about Erik mamma? I can’t leave him alone, and you need me here.” He speaks up for the first time. Hoping for a shred of empathy by pleading. Erik means everything. Will that not make him mean something by extension?
She smiles broadly. “You’ve shown me, but most of all our nation that that’s sorely untrue. You leave in three days. You will be courting Princess Alinda upon arrival, and we will be handling the narrative to the public. You come back at once when I receive word of August that Arlinda has accepted your hand in marriage. Me and neither your brother will need you any sooner than that.” She rises from her seat, putting an end to her briefing.
“Bu-“
She holds his gaze hostage the sharpest he’s ever seen. “The degeneracy you displayed outside these walls is a disgrace I won’t ever be able to erase from my private legacy to our family. But I can prevent our people from suffering the same fate. I repeat that you are lucky. It just so happens that the Royal House of Wallonia is eager about our proposal. This is a shining chance that won’t come twice. This nation won’t accept you back in any queer state. You owe it to your brother who is suffering truly.”
She’s out before Wilhelm can even begin to form any coherent expression on his face. He lies in the bathwater until the candles burn out.
♆ ♆ ♆
The following days are emotional. Wilhelm is torn on leaving kicking and screaming, letting out his anger at the separation from his brother for all to see, and contemplating to get on the ship a little earlier so that no one has the pleasure of witnessing his disgrace. Hideaway from the sea of eyes smiling at him on the surface but hiding a much darker expression underneath. He doesn’t want to face the truth of his mother’s words gaining any real substance.
He's packed his bags with plenty aversion. Stuffing his candles away in any hope to drown out the oncoming sea salt, packing any item of comfort he owns really. He knows he’s stalling. Doesn’t really need all the paint brushes and then also the ones he used a kid but if it meant putting off this next moment forever, he would.
He has to say goodbye to Erik. And there’s a frantic voice in his head warning him excessively that it could mean a final one.
♆ ♆ ♆
When he steps into Erik’s room it’s quiet save for the faint sound of chirping birds that’s coming through the open window. His face must be speaking volumes because Erik’s expression immediately changes into an unreadable tension when he catches sight of Wilhelm.
“You don’t come bearing good news, do you?” Erik says. Usually, the notion of being known so well by him is a comfort. A grounding feeling of safety. But in this sole moment Wilhelm wishes they were stranger enough to not have to live through this tearing.
He doesn’t reply and moves to sit on the side of the bed. He always sits in the same spot whenever he goes to visit. Legs folded to afford them both the casualty. Wilhelm doesn’t do serious visits with his brother, just chill, laid back and let’s laugh ones. Despite everything in the room being geared towards optimal sanitary for the sake of Erik’s health, they always manage to make the atmosphere light between them.
Wilhelm hates that he won’t be able to provide these moments anymore.
He sighs. “Mama is sending me away.” He says in a slow mumble. He rolls his eyes. “A ‘soothing’ trip abroad to get hitched. Whatever ‘soothing’ might mean in her book I don’t know. She’s letting August be my babysitter.” He pulls a face at that and it has the desired effect. Erik’s grinning at him.
He’s not going to tell Erik, he’s decided. The last thing he needs is to worry about his disaster of a brother. It won’t do his health any good. Erik knows of Wilhelm’s dislike towards their cousin though, so he fully leans into that.
“You have to give him a chance you know. He’s a little intense sometimes but it’s only because he cares so much Wille. He’s passionate about the things he does so to have him in your corner, with a task of getting engaged no less, is a blessing. You have to start seeing him for who he is I think.” Erik encourages.
“Ugh.” He can’t help but make a face again. He knows what Erik’s saying would make things easier for himself but he can’t help not clicking with the guy. They’re very different characters after all. And after the night he’s had with Lars and the inner turmoil that followed that, he doesn’t see himself ever reaching a point in friendship with August where he could share such things.
“You’re thinking too hard.” Erik smiles, shaking his head. “Just try, okay? Try to find a common ground. I’m sure he’ll be all girl talk or something once you’ve been away for a few days.” He can’t pull a face at that but Erik catches the change in demeaner all the same. “That’s why you’re going right?” He frowns. “Mamma said you’d disgraced her by going around kissing locals. Can’t have you running wild giving away the royal loving to just anyone.” Erik teases, a jovial expression on his face. Wilhelm feels joy in seeing that, even at his expense.
Erik breathes in. “Don’t pull too hard on that though, I’m sure she’s just too worried about reputation again. You’ve been holding my place so diligently you could never be a disappointment even if you tried.” He smiles.
There’s a warmth spreading throughout Wilhelm’s body at his admission. In this moment he thinks himself so lucky with the unbridled support from Erik, he didn’t know how much he needed to hear it. It hits him with a constricting blooming pain in his heart. His mouth scrunches down and the tears seem to race each other down his face. His jaw the finish line.
“I’m just going to miss you.” He croaks. It’s alarming that his voice in this state is starting to feel familiar. Does that mean he’s better at crying now? Or does quantity not equate experience in this scenario?
He wipes at his face, his hands coming back dripping. God that’s embarrassing. “This is so stupid.” He berates himself. “I won’t even be gone long.” That’s a lie, he hasn’t an inkling how long he’ll be away. He’s not planning on staying long though. How he’s going to manage that and have his heart intact upon his return he’ll figure out later.
Erik doesn’t scold him for it. He teases again. “Yeah? You’re going straight for the treasure Wille? After your wild night I’m not so sure I believe that.” Erik’s laughing out loud. Wilhelm meets him with mock disbelief. “You are calling me a slut! How dare you! I keep my treasure on lock, you should know.” It sends the other into even more laughter at the admission. “Okay, okay, I believe you if you say so. I don’t want to know more about your treasure, my God. But good for you Wille.” He says when he’s caught his breath again.
They get quiet again while Erik’s smile remains.
And Wilhelm takes that as his queue to leave. There are big emotions swirling around in his body at that realisation. He gets up from his spot on Erik’s bed and smiles at his brother. “Come here.” Erik says. And they hug because despite the angle and fatigue it’ll cost him, he knows his little brother needs it. He rubs Wilhelm’s back a few times before letting go.
“I’ll be expecting updates of your speedy Cupido trip.” Erik says when Wilhelm’s almost by the door. He shoots him a grin back he can hardly suppress. “I’ll make sure to stock up on bottles then.” Wilhelm answers. And then he steps out his brother’s room.