#exiled royalty

[walzerjahrhundert]

studio portrait of Napoléon Eugène, Prince Imperial

circa 1875

[thepaleys]

Life in Exile

From 1898 to 1913, Grand Duke Paul and Olga lived in Boulogne, just outside Paris, in a magnificent house in the middle of a vast park - today the Cours Dupanloup - which they decorated sumptuously and with perfect taste. Olga exuded joie de vivre; cheerful and warm, always late for appointments, elegant, witty and generous, she became one of the queens of Parisian life.

The couple had considerable resources at their disposal, entertained a great deal and were much celebrated. Grand Duke Paul's character was captivating, with his kindness and reserve; in the eyes of the Parisian grandee, he epitomised the "good grand duke" found in the work of Marcel Proust, who, on several occasions in his writings, also evoked Olga and praised her seduction.

Paul and Olga spoke several languages and, as Russian intellectuals often do, French as pure as if it were their mother tongue. Two children were born after Vladimir: Irène, in 1903, and Natalie, in 1905. All three grew up in a veritable Parisian paradise, enjoying a wonderfully sheltered French lifestyle and enjoying the invigorating air of the Basque coast during their holidays in Biarritz.

These are years of extreme happiness for the whole family. What's more, being uprooted and living in exile - even if it's a golden exile far from the Russia they all think of - unites these tender, romantic people even more deeply, and their feelings are expressed with a great sense of humour.

Olga and Paul look after their children all the better because they are suffering from being separated from those they left behind in Russia. Paul expects nothing more from Russia except that he hopes to see Maria Pavlovna and Dimitri again, but for that to happen the Tsar would have to change his mind...

Mémoires d'exil - Frédéric Mitterrand

[potionwine]

Thinking about Margrace as Joshua's name post-Phoenix Gate.

Mar-grace.

In FFXVI the Undying choose their own names (Cyril explains this in-game), and many of them have names drawn from Final Fantasy XII, including their leader 'Margrace' himself, from Al-Cid Margrace. The page for Al-Cid notes that Margrace is likely an alternate form of the title 'margrave', an old title for military commanders on the border.

That aside. This is the name chosen (by the boy himself?) for the boy who should have rightfully been known henceforth as 'Your Grace', 'His Grace'.

Grace (style of address), from the Oxford English Dictionary:

With a possessive adjective: a title of respect, esp. for a person of royal or noble rank. Frequently (in 'your Grace') as a form of address. Now archaic or historical. Formerly (in England until the reign of Henry VIII and in Scotland until 1707) used for a monarch or prince; now replaced by Majesty or Highness. Even so, "Majesty" for the sovereign of England was not used exclusively; it arbitrarily alternated with both "Highness" and "Grace", even in official documents, until "Majesty" finally became the official style to the exclusion of others (source).

Grace (other meanings):

1. Divine favour, benevolence, or providence bringing about worldly benefit or advantage. 2. A person's lot, destiny, or fate; luck, fortune. 3. The quality of being pleasing; attractiveness, charm; esp. (in later use) refined elegance of manner, expression, form, or movement, esp. regarded as natural or effortless; gracefulness.

Whatever the etymology of margrave, the name Margrace in-game is probably meant to call to mind the meaning of 'mar' as in damaged, spoiled, ruined. All the grace that ever belonged to his family, his home, his birthright—marred, of course.

Mar+Grace, the last heir of the oldest unbroken ruling dynasty in the Twins at the time of the opening events of the game**.

The living ghost, carrying the desecrated corpse of his legacy in his new name. Introducing himself by his humiliation: "Hello, I am Margrace", "Hello, I am the ruined dignity of my house." "Call me Margrace", "Call me the wreckage of one fallen from divine favour." "My name is Margrace", "My name is blemished fortunes and diminished nobility".

It's appropriately brutal and dramatic for such a character, especially since the game is frustratingly silent on how Joshua personally feels about the loss of his duchy which is a rant for next time.

**Footnotes:

In the Year 860 (Prologue year/Phoenix Gate), Rosaria is about 260 years old (est. Y600). Older, if you count from the time of the Rose Alliance (est. Y550). The Rosfields have been on the Rosarian throne since the inception of the duchy in Y600, and prior to that House Rosfield was already known to be the chief of/the preeminent house of the Seven High Houses that united to found the duchy. House Rosfield has held ruling power for 260-310 years at a minimum.

For reference, England's longest-reigning dynasty was the Plantagenets, who held on for 300+ years. Rosfields aren't doing half bad!

Veldemarke would have been older had it not been overthrown by Barnabas; therefore Waloed is the youngest nation state at the time of the prologue (only 17 years old). Also we do not know much about the governance of Veldemarke, although as a 'kingdom' it was likely some type of monarchy.

Sanbreque was formed 100 years after Rosaria, and at any rate is not actually a hereditary monarchy. The Holy Emperor is voted into office by his fellow Cardinals, likely the five who form the Council of Elders. We are also explicitly told that Sylvestre 'won his throne' in 865; there is no indication either way that his predecessor emperor was a Lesage. The wording suggests the throne is not Sylvestre's by lineage or birthright. How this is supposed to relate to the concept of Sanbreque having a 'crown prince' (Dion) is unclear and contradictory, since an emperor by election should probably not have the authority to unilaterally decide on the succession of the throne, and his issue—legitimate or no—should not automatically be in the line of succession.

Dhalmekia is a republic with elected officials.

The Iron Kingdom apparently has a royal family, but nothing else is known apart from it being impotent and sidelined by their state religion.

The Northern Tribes likely do have hereditary rule, and Jill is referred to as a princess, but once again little is known.

Ergo—and I am ceaseless in this propaganda—Clive and Joshua are really, properly posh! Absolutely baffling that Anabella would allow anyone to put down the pedigree of her sons when they are so blue-blooded precisely because she is! For someone with such entrenched ideas of blood purity she should not stand for it, no matter how she feels about her eldest.

[trentonsimblr]

TM King Ekert and Queen Olena of Trenton

After defeating his brother and becoming King, King Ekert's next mission was to find a wife. News of King Ekert's search eventually reached the shores of the Glassworth. At the time, Glassworth was an island kingdom off the southern shores of Trenton.

King Ferdinand, later to be known as the Last King of Glassworth, proposed the idea his only child and heir, Crown Princess Olena, marry King Ekert and merge the two kingdoms. Glassworth was a prosperous kingdom and King Ferdinand was beloved by his people. King Ekert initially believed this proposal to be some sort of trick.

Out of desperation, King Ferdinand sent his wife, Queen Anya, and daughter to Trenton to try and reason with King Ekert. Even if Ekert refused to marry the princess, King Ferdinand wanted his wife and child to be safe. What King Ekert didn't know was King Ferdinand's exiled brother King Darien, self proclaimed King of Brido, was planning to attack Glassworth and Glassworth did not have the military strength to oppose them.

As the son of King Epidarius, a man that defeated tyrants and united the kingdoms of Trenitalia, King Ekert knew he needed to support Glassworth. Upon their marriage, Crown Princess Olena of Glassworth became HM Queen Olena of Trenton, Duchess of Glassworth. Glassworth became a duchy of Trenton and was now supported by the full force of Trenton's military. King Darien's forces were defeated and he returned to Brido empty handed.

To honor King Ferdinand's sacrifice, King Ekert decreed that the Duchy of Glassworth would only be held by the consort of the current reigning monarch.

King Ekert and Queen Olena had one child, Princess Edwena (she'll get her own moment in history at some point)

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Μόχθων δ’ ουκ άλλος ύπερθεν ή γας πατρίας στέρεσθαι.

- Euripides

There is no greater grief that the loss of one’s fatherland.

RIP King Constantine II of Greece (1940-2023)

Constantine II, the last King of Greece, died aged 82 in Athens. A much-loved second cousin of King Charles III and godfather to Prince William, Constantine ascended to the Greek throne in 1964, but was forced to leave the country just three years later following a military coup. Constantine and his family then settled in the UK, where they lived for decades after the Greek monarchy was abolished in 1973.

In 2013, in the midst of the economic crisis, Constantine and Anne-Marie returned permanently to Greece after four decades of exile. "All Greeks who live in exile want to return. It's in their blood," he said at the time. His death closes a chapter on Greece’s history. It’s been decided that he would not be given a state funeral.

[winters-dream]

This is my first attempt at writing a villain origin story, so please leave any constructive criticism on anything to make scenes like this better. 😊

A knock on the door pulled you out of the book you were reading, the urgency of the knock putting a halt to the peaceful environment of your room. You glanced at the clock on your bedside table, the numbers reading 11:43 pm. The moon was high in the sky and the entire castle was asleep. You stood from your chair instantly, only one person would come to your room this late at night.

You opened the door to find the king’s sibling, your partner, waiting on the other side. Their eyes were red and watery, signs that they’ve been crying. You grab them by the arm and gently pull them inside, closing the door behind you.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” you asked softly. You had a pretty good idea on what could be the problem, but you wanted to give them a chance to voice it themself.

They didn’t speak, just looked down at their hands, black swirls dancing around their palms and confirming your suspicions. You grabbed their right hand, the dark magic dissipating into the air. “Your gift?”

They shook their head, pain swirling deep in their eyes. “Stop calling it that. You and I both know that this isn’t a gift.” Their voice shook as they spoke.  “I wasn’t born with regular magic, this is dark magic with evil roots. This is a curse.”

“But it’s not. It’s just magic, just like everyone else’s,” You grabbed onto their other hand and held them between your bodies, they were just as shaky as their voice.

They shook their head again, with more force. “I’m losing control. It’s taking over my emotions, I’m responding to everything with anger. I’m lashing out, I’m breaking things, hitting people with my magic.”

They took in a deep breath to steady themself, blinking rapidly to hold back tears. “The people are afraid of me, the whole kingdom. Even my brother.”

“Then we just have to work harder at controlling it.” Your hands moved up to the side of their arms. “Show them that they don’t have to fear you. Show them that your magic is beautiful.”

“It’s too late,” they drew away from you, wrapping their arms around themself. “I killed someone.”

“What?” The only thing you could say.

“I lost control of my power while I was training, and it hit someone. They—” they took in a breath to steady themself. “They went flying. They hit the wall and—”

They let out a choked sob. You gently pulled them back towards you, wanting to comfort them in any way you could. They tensed in your hold but slowly relaxed into you, their head resting on your shoulder. Their hands shook as they wrapped their arms around you, clinging to you like you were their last hope.

“Everyone thinks I’m a monster,” they said. “The king wants me to leave.”

“What?” You couldn’t believe the words coming out of their mouth. “You’re being exiled? By your own brother?”

“I have until midnight to leave on my own or he’s going to force me out.”

You glanced at your clock, the time now reading 11:58. You shook your head, not wanting to believe them. “He can’t do that to you, what happened was an accident.”

“I killed someone. Everyone sees me as a threat, a ticking time bomb,” they reluctantly backed away and stepped towards the window. “It’s best for everyone if I leave. Safer.”

“You can’t leave.” You followed after them. “I won’t allow it.”

They shook their head with a sad smile. “You and I both know you can’t do anything. Once the king makes a decision, no one can go against his orders.”

“This can’t be happening,” you said. You tugged on their arm for them to face you, tears threatening to spill from both of your eyes. “There’s got to be a way for you to be able to stay here. A way to show them that you're not the monster they think you are.”

They covered your hand with your own. “There isn’t. No one is safe as long as I’m here. I have to go.”

They pulled away and opened your window. You pull on them again, desperate for them to stay. “Please don’t go, I can’t live without you. There’s gotta be something we can do.”

Something changed in their eyes. A small flare of hope as an idea came to them. “Come with me.”

“What?”

“Come with me,” they repeated, a faint smile ghosted across their lips. “Come with me, please, for I can’t live without you either.”

You stood silent, unable to say ‘yes’ but unwilling to say ‘no’. 

They tugged on your hand, slightly nudging you towards them. “Please, love. My own brother turned his back on me, I can’t have you do the same too.”

You could see their heart break into a million pieces as you reluctantly shook your head. “I can’t go with you. I’m the king’s advisor, I have duties that I can’t ignore.”

Their bottom lip wobbled as they tried to hold back their tears, but to no avail as they used the back of their hand to wipe them away anyway. “So, that’s it? You’re turning your back on me when I need you the most? The king is more important than your partner?”

“Now that’s hardly fair,” you said with a shake of your head, a few tears spilling from your eyes as well. “I love you, I would never turn my back on you. But I am bound by oath to always follow the king’s orders. I have no choice.”

“And if he ordered you to kill me?”

You stood still, the absurdity of their words catching you off guard. “The king would never order such a thing.”

They pressed. “But if he did. Would you blindly follow and kill the one person you claim to love more than anything else?”

“You know I would never do anything to hurt you,” you said. “And I’m not turning my back on you. I love you, that will never change.”

“Even when I’m completely consumed by dark magic and become the monster everyone thinks I am?” 

They held eye contact with you as silence dragged between you. They looked at you with a certain intensity that made it impossible to look back but equally impossible to look away. You wanted to tell them ‘yes’, you would love them no matter what. They were the love of your life and nothing would change your love for them.

But when you opened your mouth to speak those words, nothing came out. The words were stuck in your throat. And the longer you stayed silent, the more you saw the light die in your partner’s eyes. 

They back away from you, tears falling freely form their eyes. “You can’t even look at me after I said that. Your love, just like everyone else’s, is conditional.”

You shook your head. “No, I—”

You wanted to confirm with them that you did love them and it wasn’t conditional. But they held up a hand to prevent you from speaking. They open your window and balance themself on the ledge, preparing to jump.

“I’ll show you,” they whispered. “I’ll show you all. I’ll gain control of my power, I’ll show you what a real monster is.”

They moved to jump, but you stopped them with a hand on their arm. “Stop, you’ve got this all wrong, you—”

You again didn’t get to finish your sentence, because your partner jumped out of the window and disappeared into the night, leaving the both of you brokenhearted. Their last words rang through your head, and you couldn’t help the sinking feeling that your refusal to go with them  was the final push to say that.

I’ll show you a real monster.

[regiscarnivora]

Muse List

Rajah (Aladdin)

Bagheera (The Jungle Book)

Shere Khan (The Jungle Book)

Akela (The Jungle Book)

Baloo (The Jungle Book)

Tabaqui (The Jungle Book)

Saba (Savage Kingdom)

Neo (Savage Kingdom)

Sabor (Tarzan)

Sekekama (Savage Kingdom)

Motsidi (Savage Kingdom)

Kovu (The Lion King)

Kion (The Lion Guard)

Dark Eyes (Savage Kingdom)

Sarafina (The Lion King)

Makucha (TLG)

Varya (TLG)

Vithani (TLK/TLG)

Fuli (The Lion Guard)

[tapperhet-em]

2

Soldiers show up before Einar makes it back to his suite...

“Now, stop that before we both cry.” Einar took her head in both hands very gently and placed a kiss in the middle of her forehead.  “Love you too, Meeri.”  He turned and strode from the room, giving her a wink as he closed the door.  If he hadn’t gotten out of there, he would have been too emotional over what was going on and what had just happened between them to go find his friends.  

For a full minute, if not more, Meeri stood there staring at the closed door that Einar had exited through.  Had that really just happened?  Was she hallucinating?  No, she was sure that it had just happened and she was lucid.  Somehow in the middle of a day that seemed sent straight from the bowels of hell to swallow her and her family whole, something good had happened.  It was to that she would cling as she waited for Einar and his friends to return.  Even when her family had turned their back on her, when she had been betrayed, there was one who believed in her and would not do the same.

It was the sound of heavy footsteps in the hallway that brought her out of her thoughts and had her backing towards Einar’s bedroom.  It was too soon for it to be Einar and their friends returning, which meant that it was most likely someone loyal to her uncle.  She had to hide just in case they somehow had a key to Einar’s rooms and were coming to see if he had vacated them yet.  

Just as she’d crossed the threshold into his room, a heavy fist pounded on the main door to the room.  Meeri’s hand went to her mouth to stifle the scream of shock that almost emanated from her.  It was definitely someone looking for Einar.  Her head whipped around as she tried to find somewhere to hide in the low light.  His bed was too close to the ground and his furniture not large enough to hide her, but his closet might work.  It was the best shot she had.  Hopefully if whomever it was entered, they would not find her.

Opening the door to Einar’s closet, Meeri stifled a laugh, it was a disaster.  Hiding in it wouldn’t be a problem.  Thank the heavens that the man was not neater or if someone did come looking she might be discovered.  “EINAR!  We are looking for Princess Meeri!  Open your door!”  Meeri recognized the voice coming through the door and once more put a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out as she stood completely still in the open doorway to Einar’s closet.  It was the head of her father’s legion, but she doubted that he was anymore.  She could hear the slide on his weapon being pulled, and she clenched her teeth together as hard as she could to keep from crying.  If he found her, she would be dead.

“EINAR!  You were seen going in there!” The heavy fist hit the door two more times making it rattle.  Meeri quickly started moving the clothing on the floor of Einar’s closet.  Silent tears streaming down her face as she battled hyperventilation, she started making herself a little pocket in the back to slide into where she could hide.  She would just pile everything on top of her.  Every time the soldier’s fist hit the door she would jump and move faster, more tears coming, but she was silent in her movements and her breathing.  All she had to do was stay alive until Einar found their friends.  

Finally there was just enough room to slide onto the floor and she quickly piled things on top of herself.  The fact it was messy not making a difference since that was the point of his closet anyway.  Her back was pressed against the back wall of the closet with his training gear, clothes, a few weapons, a ruck sack, and a coat just thrown over her.  All had been on the floor when she’d come in.  She was not sitting straight up, not wanting to create straight lines.  At least she had been taught how to hide as a child in case of kidnappers.

Then the sickening sound of splintering wood was heard after a boot impacted the door to the main room to the suite.  Both hands covered Meeri’s mouth as she tried to slow her breathing as much as possible.  The boots were heard in the front room, slow and methodical as they were sweeping for Einar being in there.  It would not be long until they’d be in his bedroom.  Then the test of how well she hid would begin. “What the fuck?  What did you do to my door?”  Einar’s voice was now heard, and he was pissed.

“Duuuuude, they fucked up your shit!”  That was Tieran.

“I was told I had until tomorrow to be out.  I was just checking on my friends before packing my clothes.  I assume there’s a good reason you’re in my living room?” Einar again, still pissed, maybe more pissed.  Meerie was crying hard, silent and still in the closet.

“The princess.” It was all the soldier said.  

Then there was another voice that Meeri didn’t recognize “Nevermind, we found what we were looking for.”  

“Excuse me?” This time that sounded like either Elio or Lorcan.  It was hard to tell through a closed closet door and a wall.  They sounded similar even when you were in front of them.

“Get your friends and get home.  Only those loyal to the King should be here by morning.”  That was all the soldier said and she could hear the heavy boots moving again.

The sound of the heavy wood door to the suite slamming reverberated through the wall, causing it to literally vibrate.  Meeri choked on a sob but felt unable to move.  She was in shock, feeling saved by the four of her friends coming back right when she needed them most.

“No, you don’t think….” Tieran started.

“Meeri’s too smart…” THAT was definitely Elio.

“Shhhhh….you want the bastards to come back?”  Lorcan hissed.

Where was Einar?  He’d been silent.  Had they taken him?  Had something happened that she hadn’t heard?  Meeri was shaking now, still unable to move or make a sound.  Danger may have passed but the terror in her heart had not.

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

All Shall Perish - Royalty Into Exile

[masqueradeoftheguilty]

if i was hyv i would up diluc's royalty aesthetic x100

[maximusboltaqon]

Closer, Blackagar. Let me whisper the secret.

Our. Little. Secret.

[botanicalcanopus]

theoretically couldn't a black king go into exile and become a Broken Knacker just as how a black queen can become a Banished Quasiroyal

Yep! Or at least I see it that way. Like there's a near infinite amount of things that could happen to cause that ranging from him being a turncoat to some form of civil unrest and the queen exiles him instead. He doesn't necessarily have to be a helpful exile either, he could literally just be doing things out of spite!

[thepaleys]

It was now painfully clear that Paul and Olga must make their home permanently in Paris; but they needed a far more imposing residence and initially looked for somewhere near Versailles. Finally, they found the perfect home at L’Hôtel Youssoupoff at 2 avenue Victor Hugo, Boulogne-sur-Seine, in the 16th arrondissement. It had been built in 1860–61 for Princess Zinaida Naryshkina, widow of Prince Boris Yusupov, when she had remarried to Comte Charles de Chaveau and settled in Paris. When the princess died in 1893, Prince Nikolay Yusupov in St. Petersburg inherited the mansion, but it had been empty for more than ten years when Paul and Olga found it.

Olga at last had a project into which she could throw all her energies and bring to life the rarefied style of Belle Époque living and entertaining to which she aspired. In many ways the couple were archetypal Proustian figures: and indeed the Countess von Hohenfelsen gets a passing mention in the great French classic À la recherche du temps perdu (In Search of Lost Time), in which Marcel Proust’s fictional character Madame de Guermantes is described as having offended Grand Duchess Vladimir by making the social faux pas of wrongly referring to Countess von Hohenfelsen as “Grande-Duchesse Paul.” Paul gets a mention too, as the “good Grand Duke,” as do the high society personalities with whom he and Olga regularly associated: Prince and Princess Murat, the Comtesse de Portales, Lady de Gray, Vera de Talleyrand-Perigord, Prince and Princess Baryatinsky, Madame de Chevigné, the Comtesse de Greffulhe, and the poet Robert de Montesquiou—who appears in Proust as the “Baron de Charlus.” Despite the pain of separation from Russia and Paul’s children, as well as their son Vladimir—who had returned to St. Petersburg to train at the elite military school the Corps des Pages—Paul and Olga enjoyed a gilded exile with their two daughters, in a home created together that was “worthy of a Pompadour or a Du Barry

"After the Romanovs" - Helen Rappaport

[musicandoldmovies]

The Scabs - Royalty in Exile

[werecreature-addicted]

monster royalty....hmmm.

Dragon who is a King/Queen uses not only their immense physical power but their political and monetary sway to pursue the human they desire.

Vampire count/countess throwing elaborate balls and parties just to catch a glimpse of their love then get's jealous when they're dancing with another.

Werewolf knight devoted to a human royal, a literal guard dog. they save the king in battle during a war and are gifted land and a title and now they can pursue their human romantically and keep them safe at their side where they belong.

Elf prince/ princess who is exiled for their use of black magic and comes back to burn their former homeland to the ground, and of course, steal away their beloved before they have a chance to be married off to someone else.

hmmm much to think about.

[blackswaneuroparedux]

I consider myself King of the Hellenes and sole expression of legality in my country until the Greek people freely decide otherwise. I fully expected that the military regime would depose me eventually. They are frightened of the Crown because it is a unifying force among the people.

- King Constantine II of the Hellenes

An important chapter of Greek history ended on 11 January 2023, in Athens, with a deafening silence. The former king Constantine II died at the age of 82 in Athens. Some Greek media outlets referred to him as Constantine Glücksburg, not wishing to mention the royal title of the former monarch who was deposed in 1974.

The last member of the Danish dynasty to rule from 1863 until the return of the Parliamentary Republic was the cousin of the British monarch Charles III and one of the godparents of his son, Prince William, and the brother of Queen Sofia of Spain. But his death caused barely a rustle in Greece, a country that has been riven by divisions between royalists and democrats since its creation.

He was not given the state funeral he had so much desired. Neither the Greek Prime Minister, Kyriakos Mitsotakis, nor the President of the Republic, Katerina Sakellaropoulou, were present at his funeral on 16 January. His death "marks the formal epilogue (...) of a chapter that was definitively closed with the 1974 referendum," when Greeks voted by 70% to abolish the monarchy, said the prime minister in a terse message of condolence. The conservative leader also recalled "the eventful journey of former King Constantine, marked and punctuated by turbulent moments in the contemporary history of Greece." "History now has the floor. It will judge fairly and severely the Constantine of public life," he concluded.

The legacy of King Constantine II of the Hellenes remains a mixed one and mirrors the divided feelings of Greeks have to this day about their last king.

In many ways, Constantine was a victim of the vicious political infighting that had characterised Greek politics and its society for much of the period since the second world war. It perhaps needed a stronger, more experienced and more resolute approach to surmount the crises of his three-year reign than the young man in his early 20s could manage. In later life he said in an interview that he might have liked to be an actor or a journalist, but his fate was to spend his life as an ex-king, harried by Greek politicians and in turn harassing them in a prolonged legal fight for compensation for his family’s lost property, eventually through the European court of human rights.

Born in Athens, Constantine was the son of the Greek crown prince, Paul, the younger brother of King George II, and his German-born wife Princess Frederica, and was taken into exile as a baby following the Italian and then Nazi invasions of the country in 1940-41. His early years were spent first in Egypt and then in South Africa, before the family returned to Greece following the referendum that restored George to the throne in 1946. George died the following year, and Paul became king.

Constantine was educated at a private high school in Athens, modelled on the same lines as the German educationist Kurt Hahn’s principles at Gordonstoun, and afterwards attended Athens University to study law. A keen sailor, Constantine was a member of Greece’s winning sailing team at the 1960 Rome Olympics – the country’s first gold medal in nearly 50 years.

He succeeded to the throne aged 23 on his father’s death in March 1964, becoming head of state in a country that had not got over the civil war between communists and the Greek government of 1946-49, and where political tensions and divisions continued to run deep. The CIA, desperate to avoid Greece falling into communist hands, was also active in Athens. Greece was a strategic pawn between the US and the Soviet Union, each anxious to pull the country into its sphere of influence in the eastern Mediterranean. At the same time, it was attempting to modernise with social and economic reforms as an associate member and applicant to join the Common Market.

The month before Constantine came to the throne, a general election had produced a leftwing government under George Papandreou, following eleven years of rightwing government. Within a year, relations between the king and his prime minister were breaking down. Conservative army officers were alarmed by a perceived leftwards drift among the junior ranks, who were supported by Papandreou’s Harvard-educated son Andreas. When George Papandreou announced that he would take over the defence ministry himself, Constantine refused to allow him to do so, and the government resigned. In the hiatus that followed, the king attempted to appoint a government without holding an election and was accused of acting unconstitutionally.

When elections were finally called in April 1967, the likely re-election of Papandreou was forestalled by an army coup led by colonels. Constantine initially appeared to go along with the insurgents. He argued later that he had had no choice as the palace was surrounded by army tanks, but there were also persistent suggestions that he had been urged by the American embassy to do so in order to avoid another radical government. Many Greeks and civilian politicians never forgave the king for acceding to the coup, but within months he attempted a counter-coup of his own, fleeing to loyalist troops in the northern city of Kavala that December in an attempt to create a rival military support and force the junta to resign.

The operation was poorly organised and, although the air force and navy declared their support, the army and its officers rallied to the coup leaders. Support for the king melted away within 24 hours. Fearing bloodshed if it came to a military confrontation, Constantine and his family fled into exile, first in Rome and then a few years later in London.

There was no going back for the king. The junta, led by Colonel Georgios Papadopoulos, brutally consolidated their regime using censorship, mass arrests of opponents, torture and imprisonments, and were not going to reinstate Constantine after his attempted coup. When monarchist navy officers unsuccessfully attempted to overthrow the colonels in June 1973, Papadopoulos declared the country a republic, endorsed subsequently in a plebiscite widely assumed to have been rigged.

Nonetheless, when the regime fell following the Turkish invasion of Cyprus in 1974, to be succeeded by a civilian government, a further referendum was held to determine whether the king should be restored. Constantine was not allowed to return in order to campaign on his own behalf, though he was allowed to broadcast an address from London in which he apologised for his previous errors. But his maladroit interference with the civilian governments before the coup was held against him and the outcome of the vote in December 1974 was heavily in favour of a republic: by 69% to 31%.

Thereafter, for decades, Constantine was prevented from visiting Greece except briefly and on rare occasions: for his mother’s funeral in 1981 and for an attempted holiday in 1993, when he found his yacht was constantly harried by torpedo boats and aeroplanes. The following year, the Greek government revoked his citizenship and passport and seized the royal family’s property. “The law basically said that I had to go out and acquire a name. The problem is that my family originates from Denmark and the Danish royal family haven’t got a surname,” he said, adding that Glücksburg was the name of a place not a family: “I might as well call myself Mr Kensington.”

In 2000, the court of human rights found for the king in relation to the property, though it could only order compensation, not the return of his extensive estates nor the royal palace at Tatoi and awarded him only 12m euros (around £10m), rather than the 500m he had asked for: a reduction that the Greek government counted as a triumphant vindication. It nevertheless took another two years to pay the money and, when it did so, the government took it from its extraordinary natural disasters fund rather than general reserves. In retaliation, Constantine used the money to set up a charitable foundation in the name of his wife to assist Greeks suffering from natural disasters. He said: “I feel the Greek government have acted unjustly and vindictively. They treat me sometimes as if I am their enemy – I am not the enemy. I consider it the greatest insult in the world for a Greek to be told he is not a Greek.”

Generally, while expressing a wish to be allowed to live in Greece, which was granted in 2013, Constantine seemed equable about his fate and did not attempt to regain the throne. “All I want is to have my home back and to be able to travel in and out of Greece like every other Greek. I don’t have to be in Greece as head of state. I am quite happy to be there as a private citizen,” he told the news media in 2000. “Forget the past, we are a republic now. Let’s get on with the future.”

By the standards of the hapless Greek monarchy, Constantine II, the last king of the Hellenes, who died aged 82 on 10 January 2023, led a comfortable life in exile after a brief and turbulent reign. Of the seven Greek monarchs of the 19th and 20th centuries, three were deposed, one assassinated, two abdicated and one died of septicaemia after being bitten by a barbary ape in the royal gardens.

The Glücksburg monarchy was German-Danish in origin, imposed on Greece in the 1830s. During prolonged wrangling after Constantine’s deposition, the Greek government refused to give him a passport until he acknowledged that he was Mr Glücksburg, whereas he insisted he was just plain Constantine. As the last of Greece’s deposed monarchs he escaped lightly. But decades of exile in London, as one thing the Greeks did not want back from Britain, were not how he would have chosen to spend his life. For more than 20 years he was careful not to stir up anti-monarchist feeling in Greece, though he never relinquished his claim to the throne.

But Greeks have long memories. When the Greek colonels seized power in 1967, instigating seven years of tyranny, it was King Constantine who tried to stand up to them and rally the forces of democracy; but he did so rather naively and feebly.

Had Constantine succeeded, as did his brother-in-law Juan Carlos of Spain, he might have been a hero to his people. As it was, in the eyes of many Greeks, he remained tainted by family history and by his own clumsy mishandling of the political crisis that had brought about his exile. It’s a mistake he has freely acknowledged during the long 46 years of exile from his homeland.

There are Greeks still today who have always felt the referendum to depose him as King was rigged. For his part, Constantine, always continued to support democracy and the republic. Except with one caveat. According to many, Constantine never accepted his deposition. His Danish diplomatic passport still read "Constantine, King of Greece." In an interview with the television channel Skai in 2016, he even said: "I am not the former King Constantine, I am King Constantine, period."

In public at least, his fidelity to the republic bore fruit when he was allowed to come back to Greece and reside there. By all accounts his return from exile was a happy one where his home in Peloponnese coast gave him the peace he so long craved to live and eventually die in his own homeland. "All Greeks who live in exile want to return. It's in their blood," And so he got his wish. He was buried as a Greek, if not as a king.

RIP King Constantine II of the Hellenes (1940-2023)