Chapter Text
“It’s nice,” Simon said, looking around the living room of Sara’s new shared apartment. “Cosy.”
The place was clearly past its prime but reasonably well maintained, with mismatched furniture, a bunch of potted plants, books and various knick-knacks on shelves that gave it a somewhat disorganised but homely feel. Simon certainly liked it better than the gleaming surfaces of Sara’s previous apartment – her boyfriend’s apartment – where Simon always felt like he was sticking out like a sore thumb and wasn’t deemed worthy of sitting down.
“Thanks,” Sara said as she brought a tray laden with steaming mugs of coffee and a plate of pastries from the tiny kitchen and set it on the dining table. “I really like it here, and Lena and Astrid are so nice. You can meet them later, I think they’ll be home around six.”
“Cool, I’d like that.” Simon pulled out a creaky chair, sat down and took a sip of his coffee, waiting for Sara to bring up the elephant in the room. The last time they’d seen each other, less than a month ago, she had still been cosied up with Elias in his swanky high-rise. It came as a bit of a shock when she invited him to a new place that she shared with two girls she had never met before.
Simon assumed it meant things with Elias had gone south, but he didn’t understand why she hadn’t called him when it happened. He could have comforted her, helped her move. Sure, they had their separate lives now, studying at different universities and living in different parts of Stockholm, but she was still his sister, one of the most important people in his life. He wanted to know what was going on in her life.
But Sara gave no indication of wanting to talk about the reasons for her sudden move, and her reticence only made Simon more worried.
“Sara,” he said gently, reaching across the table to touch the back of her hand. “What happened with Elias?”
Sara shrugged, not meeting his eyes. “We’re not together anymore.”
“I gathered as much. But what happened?” Feeling a sudden pit open in his stomach, he added, “Did he hurt you?”
The sad truth about Sara was that she was unlucky in love – or had terrible taste in men, depending on how you looked at it. Simon had never got the impression that there was anything wrong with Elias, aside from the fact that he was a tech bro and had some sort of investment start-up – but it would be just Sara’s luck if it turned out that there was, in fact, a lot wrong with him.
But Sara shook her head. “No. At least not the way you’re thinking.” She hesitated, sighing. “Look, just don’t freak out, okay? I promise it’s all been resolved and I’m fine. But – he’s been arrested for money laundering.”
“Money laundering?” Simon probably wouldn’t be surprised to find out Elias’ business had a less-than-ethical side to it, that seemed to be the industry standard, but he hadn’t suspected him of anything actually criminal.
“Yeah. And, uh – he got me implicated in that.”
Haltingly, Sara began to explain that Elias had told her he was working on an exciting new business venture and persuaded her to assist with some administrative tasks, such as managing bank transfers and processing payments, promising it would look good on her resume when she started looking for a full-time job after graduation. Eager to support Elias and gain experience, Sara had agreed without hesitation, never suspecting a thing, until the day the police brought her in for questioning about her involvement in what turned out to be an elaborate scam.
“Oh my god, Sara.” Simon got up from his seat and pulled Sara to him, her head against his stomach. “That’s so fucked up, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know,” Sara mumbled, her voice a bit muffled against Simon’s belly. “I guess I was embarrassed.”
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“Yes, I do. I was so stupid for not realising what was going on.”
“Sara.” Simon released her from his hold and sat back down, kitty-corner from her this time rather than opposite her. He took her hands in his. “You trusted your boyfriend, that’s nothing to be ashamed of. He broke that trust. He used you. That’s on him.”
“I could’ve been smarter, you can’t deny that.”
Simon wondered if he could have been smarter too, looked out for Sara more, if something about Elias should have set off alarm bells. He had found it a bit premature that Elias had asked Sara to move in with him after they had only been together for less than three months, but he’d written it off as his own hangups getting in the way. Just because he hadn’t felt ready to move in with Oliver after a year and a half together didn’t mean everyone else had to operate on his schedule. Maybe Oliver had been right when he accused Simon of being emotionally unavailable and afraid of commitment. Simon was only twenty-one and he felt that his level of commitment had been perfectly age-appropriate, but it was also what had ultimately led to the dissolution of their relationship last summer. Simon had told himself it was a good thing Sara felt more confident in her relationship, but perhaps he should have trusted his instincts more.
“What matters is that you’re okay now,” he said, squeezing her hands. “I mean, you are, right? You said it’s been resolved?”
“Yes,” Sara was quick to reassure him. “There are no charges against me. I’ll probably have to testify against Elias when it goes to court, but that’s all.”
“Okay… but, how? How did you get out of it?”
Sara gently pulled her hands out of Simon’s grasp and wrapped them around her mug, taking a sip of her coffee. “I called Felice.”
Simon couldn’t believe his ears. “You called Felice. You didn’t think to call me, but you called Felice.” Sara and Felice were still friends, though not as close as they used to be. As far as Simon knew, Felice spent most of her time abroad, travelling around the world to learn about different cuisines. It felt wrong that Sara had preferred to turn to her for help rather than her own brother.
“You were on that ski trip with Ayub,” she said defensively. “And I’m sorry, Simon, but what could you have done? Felice has connections. Her family knows basically everyone. I thought she could know someone who’d know what to do, help me get a lawyer or something.”
That was a valid point, but Simon still didn’t like it.
“Yeah, a lawyer who’ll charge you an arm and a leg for a consult. Did you get into debt because of this? Or did you let Felice pay for you?”
“No, no. He got me a good deal and I can pay it off in instalments, it’s fine. And she was amazing, you know, the lawyer. She just wiped the floor with the detectives, they had to let me go.”
“Who’s ‘he’?” Simon asked. “You said ‘he’ got you a good deal. Felice’s dad?”
Sara took a pastry from the plate and began tearing it into pieces. “No, just… a friend of hers.”
“So now Felice owes one of her rich mates a favour on your behalf?”
“No, Simon, nobody owes anyone anything,” Sara bristled. “Sometimes people just like to help people, is that so hard to believe? Just because they’re rich doesn’t mean they’re evil. Aren’t you glad I had someone help me?”
Simon sighed, deflating. “Of course I’m glad. I just – I guess I just wish I could have helped you, too.” He knew Sara was right and there wasn’t much he could have done. He had no money, no useful connections. But he could have at least offered moral support. “I wish you’d called me. If something like that happened to me, wouldn’t you want to know?”
Sara hesitated. “Yeah, I guess I would,” she admitted, then added bitterly, “But it wouldn’t have happened to you. You don’t keep falling for assholes.”
“I mean, Rasmus was a dick,” Simon offered in an attempt to lighten her mood. Rasmus was the first person Simon had dated – or tried to date – after Wille. The first (and only) time they were about to have sex, Rasmus pushed Simon’s head between his legs and demanded to be given ‘the royal treatment’. When Simon got uncomfortable with both his phrasing and his pushiness, Rasmus declared that Simon was too sensitive, and no wonder the prince had tired of him if he was stingy with blowjobs. Afterwards, he would tell everyone who would listen that he had never wanted a prince’s leftovers anyway.
“Yeah, but you went on, like, three dates. You were never in love with him,” Sara pointed out, which was true. It had been way too soon – both for Simon’s heart to have healed, and for his image as ‘the Crown Prince’s ex-boyfriend’ to disappear from the public consciousness. The experience had put him off any attempts at dating for a good while, and it had taken him even longer to stop wondering whether people who were interested in him actually liked him for him or just wanted to have something in common with royalty.
Royalty.
A sudden thought occurred to him, a seed of suspicion. It was completely baseless; Felice had countless influential friends and Simon didn’t even know for sure if Wille was still among them. But he couldn’t help himself, he had to ask.
“Who – who was the friend?”
“Can’t we just talk about something else?” Sara blurted, and that was answer enough. She had never been any good at dissimulating.
“Sara. Who was it.”
She sighed and met Simon’s eyes. “He made me promise I wouldn’t tell you.”
Simon’s breath caught in his lungs. He was pretty sure his heart stopped beating, every single process in his body coming to a halt.
“Wilhelm?” It must have been years since the last time he said that name out loud but the shape of it felt achingly familiar in his mouth.
Sara nodded, a confirmation Simon didn’t even need. Wille.
His lungs expanded again, blood rushing through his veins. It had been nearly five years since they’d last seen each other. Their lives were never meant to overlap again, aside from the inevitability of Simon seeing the Crown Prince on the news. But now Wille had gone and saved Simon’s sister from trouble, reappearing on the outskirts of Simon’s life, breaching that invisible barrier between them.
But he didn't want Simon to know. Why didn’t he want Simon to know?
“How much was it?” Simon heard himself asking. “The legal fees. How much were they?”
Sara told him, an absurdly low figure. Simon remembered the lawyer they’d hired for the mediation with August; his hourly rate had been twice as high, and that had been five years ago and he had been the cheapest one they could find.
“No lawyer is that cheap, Sara. Especially not one who’s used to working for the royal family.”
“I told you, he got me a discount.”
Simon shook his head. “This is no discount. This is a fraction of the real fee. He must have paid the rest himself.” Simon was sure of it. Wille must have assumed – rightly so – that Simon wouldn’t like it that his money had smoothed the way.
“Oh,” Sara murmured, seeming truly surprised by this revelation.
Simon pushed his chair back and got up, suddenly needing to move. He couldn’t tell what he was feeling besides a kind of restless energy. Why had Wille done that? They had been broken up for five years with no contact, what had made him think he could just swoop in and save the day with his position of power and generational wealth and lawyers at his beck and call, like some sort of knight in shining armour? What had he intended to achieve?
Nothing other than helping, Simon answered himself immediately, trying to rein in his thoughts that sounded angry for reasons he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Wille clearly didn’t want any credit. Sometimes people just want to help people. Simon had no justifiable reason to feel anything other than grateful for it. He could imagine that a case the Crown Prince was interested in was given the highest priority. If Sara had been left to her own devices, the whole thing probably would have dragged on for much longer, with a much more uncertain outcome.
He did it for you, his heart whispered, ever the traitor. Simon pushed the thought away. Wille had just helped out an old acquaintance. It was a kind thing to do, but without any hidden meaning. The real reason why he didn’t want Simon to know was probably because he just didn’t want him to read into things like an idiot.
“Simon?” Sara said questioningly, watching him pace in the scant space between the dining table and the sofa, dragging his fingers through his hair. “Does it bother you that I let him help me? It’s not like I sought him out, he just happened to be there when I called Felice, and he offered.”
“No,” Simon said quickly. It didn’t bother him. That would be incredibly self-involved of him. It just – made him feel some type of way that he didn’t quite know what to do with. “I’m glad you had help.” It was probably better that it came from Wille, too, rather than one of Felice’s other posh friends who they didn’t know. Not that he could say he still knew Wille. They had been apart for far longer now than they had been together. Sara now probably knew things about him that Simon didn’t.
“How – how did he look?” he asked without really meaning to.
“Um – good?” Sara replied, seeming confused by the question. “You can watch his New Year’s speech, I don’t think he’s changed since then.”
But Simon wasn’t interested in the puppet giving speeches; he wanted to know about Wille.
“No, I mean – how did he seem? Did he seem…” He hesitated, trying to find a neutral-sounding word, but eventually he settled on what he really meant. “... happy?”
Simon knew all kinds of things about Wille’s life that had happened since their breakup. He didn’t go looking for this information (mostly); it was simply impossible to avoid. He knew about the exclusive Swiss boarding school that Wille got sent to after Hillerska closed, he had listened to his declaration of majority on his eighteenth birthday, he knew when his military training started and when it ended. He knew, very much against his will, about his highly publicised relationship with Amalie, Princess of Norway. But none of Wille’s official appearances told Simon anything about the real person he used to know, the boy who felt so much and hurt so much. None of it told him whether that boy still existed, or if Simon had left him to die.
Sara shrugged. “I don’t know about that, but I guess he seemed… confident? He was very assertive, dealing with everybody.”
That was good, right? Confident and assertive was good. It meant that Wille had become more comfortable with his role, that he no longer let it crush him. He hadn’t looked particularly comfortable in the glimpses Simon had caught of his official appearances over the years, but maybe Simon just couldn’t read Wille’s body language well enough to be able to tell anymore.
Or did it mean that he had let himself be moulded into the shape the Royal Court wanted, losing the soft parts of himself along the way? Had he become the sort of person who expects the world to bend to their will? Would Simon even recognise him now?
Sara watched Simon thoughtfully. “He was pretty much the same as he used to be when it was just us, though,” she added, as if responding directly to Simon’s thoughts. “A bit awkward and stare-y, not very chatty. He was very kind to me.”
Simon swallowed, pushing away an all-too-clear memory of an intense gaze, an adorable eagerness to please and heart-stopping gentleness. He needed to pull himself together and behave like a normal person hearing about their high school sweetheart. There was really no need to be dramatic about it. Simon had other ex-boyfriends and he had no trouble being normal about them. There was no reason why Wille should be any different.
(Except Wille had always been different and it had never felt right to lump him together with the others. Simon supposed that was what people meant when they said you never really forget your first love.)
“Okay,” he said in what he hoped was a steady tone and sat back down. “Good.” So Wille had helped Sara out of a tight spot. He was still a nice person despite the years of royal pressure. That was a relief; obviously Simon wasn’t indifferent to what happened to Wille and he didn’t want him to lose the best parts of himself to the looming weight of the crown. But that was all there was to it.
Sara looked at him like she didn’t buy his act for a second. “I don’t know if he’s happy, but he didn’t seem unhappy, at any rate,” she said slowly, considering her next words. “He certainly didn’t seem particularly upset that he and Amalie have split up.”
It was weird to hear Sara refer to her by her name; in his head, Simon only ever thought of Wille’s girlfriend as the princess, not without a smidge of contempt attached to the word. It wasn’t that he was jealous, or that he wanted Wille to sit alone in his castle, forever pining for him. But he could admit that it had stung, when the news of their relationship broke with a carefully planned Instagram post on New Year’s Day 2024, an obviously professionally taken photo of the two of them sharing a midnight kiss with fireworks going off in the background. It was impossible not to notice that she was Simon’s polar opposite in almost every way – a girl, a literal princess, blonde and rosy-cheeked and blue-eyed. The camera loved her and she certainly seemed to love it back. No scandal, no royal panic, no coverups. People on both sides of the border had gone insane over the fairytale romance between the prince and princess from neighbouring kingdoms. The only thing missing was a dragon for Wille to rescue her from.
A relationship between her and Wilhelm had to be the Swedish Royal Court’s wet dream, a veritable palate cleanser after Simon. Simon had wondered if that was what it was – a PR stunt to improve Wille’s reputation, to make him appear the serious, traditional, strong young man they wanted him to be. The princess, Simon had thought uncharitably, was probably well aware that being fifth in line to the Norwegian throne, she was unlikely to ever ascend it, and so she was casting her eye on the one next door.
But now, learning that Wille didn’t seem sad about their breakup, which had to have been very recent if the press hadn’t caught wind of it yet, Simon felt no satisfaction. In some way, he had hoped despite how picture-perfect the relationship looked, it had been real and something that Wille had truly wanted, something that made him happy. That he had found someone who could stand by his side in a way that Simon couldn’t, that he wouldn’t have to go through all of it alone.
“You talked about his relationship?” he asked Sara. In his imagination, the interaction between Sara and Wille was almost business-like and wholly focused on Sara’s situation. He wasn’t sure he liked the implication that that hadn’t been the case.
“Not really, it just came up,” Sara shrugged, irritatingly nonchalant.
‘It just came up’-- how could it just come up? What else did they talk about? Did they talk about him? They must have, at least enough for Wille to ask Sara not to tell him. So Wille must have thought of him. What did he think? How long had it been since he’d thought of him last? Did he ask about him? What did he ask about? What did Sara tell him? What –
“Oh my god,” Sara groaned. “You’re both just the same. Just ask before you explode.”
“What do you mean, just the same?” Simon blurted. Had Wille felt this too, this obsessive need to know coupled with a vague fear that he couldn’t bear to hear the answers? “Did he – did he ask about me?”
Sara rolled her eyes. “Come on, Simon, be serious. Of course he asked about you. Who do you think he really did it for?”