#flufftober21

[darkacademicfrom2021]

Monthly challenges

FLUFFTOBER

These are all oneshots with a prompt from @flufftober2021's writing challenge/event. They work separately, but I put them all together because they're from the same event. Again, the ones I specially like go with a (*). Total word count: 37K

Day 1 - Winning a teddy bear for the other

Day 2 - Sneaking out together

Day 3 - Lazy sundays

Day 4 - Fireworks (*)

Day 5 - Watching the sunrise

Day 6 - Fireman's carry (*)

Day 7 - Meddling friends

Day 8 - Cooking lessons

Day 9 - Text messages

Day 10 - Pillow fight (*)

Day 11 - Love notes (day 6 part 2) (*)

Day 12 - Sleepy kiss

Day 13 - Pillow talk

Day 14 - Slow dancing

Day 15 - Silly traditions

Day 16 - Falling asleep together (day 6 part 3) (*)

Day 17 - Domestic fluff

Day 18 - Costumes

Day 19 - Flowers

Day 20 - Secret crush

Day 21 - Knuckle kiss

Day 22 - Flirting at work

Day 23 - Hold me in your arms

Day 24 - Caught in the rain (*)

Day 25 - Cudddling and snuggling

Day 26 - New habit together

Day 27 - "I'm cold" "Here, have my jacket" (*)

Day 28 - Soothing bath

Day 29 - Up against the wall kiss

Day 30 - Fall asleep in my lap

Day 31 - Holiday traditions

+ end of flufftober's desintoxicating smut: "The party could be anywhere".

JOTUNNARY

Day 1 | Yule

Day 2 | Childhood

Day 3 | Parenthood

Day 4 | Lovers

Day 5 | Family reunion

Day 6 | Punishment (*)

Day 7 | Ragnarök

Day 8 | Mythology

Day 9 |

Day 10 | A wedding

Day 11 |

Day 12 | A prayer

[lire-casander]

[teen and up audiences] [@moviegeek03​, being the amazing human being she is, gave a once-over to this and stated she liked the idea, so here he are!] [title from northern lights by elias] [fluff, suggestion, angst, mentions of hospitals] [written for @flufftober2021 day #4: sparklers & fireworks]

chapter 4 | on ao3

[1000 words]

One of the perks of still being part of the Royal Family, Wilhelm thinks, is the fact that he is still invited to the festivities of the Fourth of July.

Wilhelm never quite really liked traveling around the world. It spiked his anxiety and left him thinking he was of no use for the Crown — the weird kid who didn’t know how to behave or what to say. Even with Erik by his side, Wilhelm had always found social interactions the biggest ordeal of them all.

But now, sitting across Simon in the private jet that’s taking them all to the United States, Wilhelm doesn’t think it’s such an effort.

Erik stumbles into the space, followed closely by his newest conquest, a girl whose name Wilhelm can’t remember — the Queen loves treating each one of them as the future Princess consort, when Wilhelm knows they’re only one night stands for his brother. Erik has yet to find the love of his life.

Wilhelm feels lucky that he’s got to find his at sixteen.

He remembers the Queen dismissing his feelings right after the video was leaked. He remembers how she thought Simon would just be a pastime, someone Wilhelm would grow bored of in no time. He knows when he first arrived to Hillerska he wasn’t in the best of moods — he wasn’t even in the best of places.

Simon saved him.

“Wille, you’re starting to scare me,” Erik says out of the blue, waving a hand before Wilhelm’s eyes. “Simon’s been trying to catch your attention for a solid minute here. You just zoned out.”

“He does that a lot,” Simon states. He sounds amused and not annoyed. Wilhelm knows he’s been spacing out more frequently lately, and he doesn’t like it. It is like his mind can’t focus, not even when Simon is around.

He leans in and kisses Simon to shut him up, fireworks exploding behind his eyes as he does so.

“What were you saying?” he tries to divert the conversation to different, brighter topics.

“I can’t wait until you show me all the sights,” Simon says. He smiles.

“I don’t know the city that well,” Wilhelm starts, only to be cut off by Erik, whose arm is now around the girl’s shoulder — Miranda, Wilhelm remembers.

“I don’t think Simon means the city,” his brother says, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Erik!” Wilhelm says, scandalized. Simon bursts out laughing, patting his knee as his shoulder shake. “I didn’t—” he splutters, hiding his face in his own hands when everyone around him keeps teasing him.

“It’s okay, Prince Wilhelm,” Miranda says with a twinkle in her eyes. “I’m pretty sure you’ll find time to show Simon around the city, as well.”

“Before the fireworks begin,” Simon says in between chuckles. “Because, after the show’s over, I plan on having my own wicked time with you, Wilhelm.”

Wilhelm blushes. He switches seats until he’s right next to Simon, and buries his head in Simon’s neck, his favorite place in the whole world.

The days merge in a way that it’s impossible to tell them apart. She knows she’s neglecting her Royal duties — this year is the first time in so long that she has allowed the festivities to sneak up on her.

“Kristina,” Ludvig calls her name in a slightly loud tone. When she looks up, it’s evident from the way that he’s staring down at that he has been trying to catch her attention for a while now.

“Sorry,” she mutters, averting her gaze from the bed where Wilhelm lies, pale and still, the bruises on his face changing their colors from purple to yellow. “What were you saying?”

“The PR team need you to film the Christmas speech tomorrow at the latest,” Ludvig tells her slowly, waving a small cell phone in his hand.

“I’d completely forgotten about the speech,” she confesses. Her hand is still clutching Wilhelm’s in a futile attempt to reassure herself that her son is still alive. Ashamed, she looks down to her son once again. “I’ll talk to them.”

“Kristina,” Ludvig says in a gentler voice. “Nobody expects you to be full on your Royal duties, not after everything. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” she retaliates. “The Crown and—”

“Forget about the Crown for one second, Kristina!” Ludvig explodes. She looks up at him again, startled. She’s never seen her husband so angry. “Can’t you see that this is exactly where putting the Crown first has taken us? Can’t you see that?” His hands wave in the air. “Our son is—”

“I don’t need you to remind me what’s happened to Wilhelm!” she yells back. “I’m very much aware of everything that’s happened to this family these past months!”

Ludvig seems taken aback momentarily by her outburst, but he recovers swiftly and then attacks her right where it hurts the most — right on the wound that’s been bleeding open ever since Erik passed away.

“Then you’re aware of everything we’ve put Wilhelm through, ever since Erik’s accident,” he says, calmer, but the words hit her like a freight train. If she’d been on her feet, she’d have faltered. “Then you’re aware that never once it occurred to us to ask Wilhelm about how he was feeling! We just turned his life upside down, and then expected him to be okay with losing his brother and becoming someone he was not ready to be!”

“He—”

“We forced him to hide a part of himself,” Ludvig finishes, his voice broken. “I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for that. We forced him to be someone he isn’t. And now this—”

She wipes away the tears that have started to fall, lips in a thin line before she replies, “I thought it was best, back then.” Ludvig shakes his head, forcing her to continue, “But maybe it’s time for me to put our son before the Crown.”

From the way Ludvig smiles wearily down at her, she knows that it was the right to say.

[lire-casander]

if hurting wounds would mend (never left that place inside my head)

[teen and up audiences] [@moviegeek03​, being the amazing human being she is, gave a once-over to this and stated she liked the idea, so here he are!] [title from northern lights by elias] [fluff, angst, mentions of hospitals] [written for @flufftober2021 day #7: meddling friends]

chapter 6 | on ao3

[1000 words]

Wilhelm never thought Hillerska could be this beautiful in the late summer. Last yehe joined a month after the term had started, therefore missing the way the weather changed, turning the days from warm to chilly as the weeks passed.

He wants to enjoy being as carefree as a normal teenager can be while attending school, and he wants to feel happy that he has Simon by his side.

He wants to forget the headaches that keep coursing through his skull, so painful that he ends up hallucinating things that haven’t happened — things like Erik’s death in a car accident. But the headaches don’t go away, although having Simon beside him helps soothe the pain.

The only problem Wilhelm encounters during the first term of his second year at Hillerska is that classes and row practice and choir practice are taking up way too much of their time — they can’t seem to catch a breath, whenever they’re done with their classes they need to rush to one practice or the other, and Simon is still a non-resident. Their time together is limited, and Wilhelm wishes he could change that. But his mother has already told him that she can’t bump Simon and Sara up the line for a grant, no matter what — it would be dangerously close to nepotism, now that their relationship is not a secret. Wilhelm understands, of course he does.

It doesn’t mean he likes it.

One particular Tuesday night, when he’s lying on his bed with his notebook and his Physics book by his side, a knock on the door startles him. He stands up, shaking his head as he opens the door to face Felice standing in the hallway.

“Felice?” he asks stupidly.

She snickers, reaching out and grabbing him by the wrist, tugging at him to follow her. He splutters, protesting that he’s just wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, not ready to go wherever she’s taking him, but Felice doesn’t relent. She guides him through the empty corridors until she stops in front of the music room.

“Felice?” he asks again, confused. He doesn’t understand why they’re standing here when he has a huge test coming up that he’s definitely not ready for.

“We’re all tired of your whining, Your Highness,” she says mockingly, turning the knob on the closed door and basically pushing him inside. “Just—don’t do anything I wouldn’t do in public.”

Wilhelm doesn’t have time to react before she’s closing the door again. Confused, he turns around, only to meet Simon’s expressive eyes staring back at him. “Simon?”

“Apparently we’ve become unbearable,” Simon says in lieu of greeting, even waving air quotes at him. “Our friends thought an intervention was needed.”

Wilhelm chuckles as he approaches his boyfriend and hugs him. “How long till you need to go back home?”

“Sara’s at the stables for at least another hour. Think you could use a break?”

Wilhelm nods, diving in for a kiss and thanking their meddling friends for their intervention.

The knock on the closed door startles them both. Ludvig snaps his head up, awoken from the light nap he’d fallen into. She simply turns to face the door at the same time as Malin, who’s been keeping guard with them despite being still on leave, stands up.

“Johan,” she says.

The voice at the other side comes muffled but sure. “Felice Ehrencrona,” he announces simply, before Malin opens the door to let the girl in.

She remembers Felice, the daughter of Poppe Ehrencrona who had quickly become a candidate to become a love interest for Wilhelm. Now, all her attempts seem futile — her son’s heart lies elsewhere. She stands up, Ludvig mimicking her actions. Felice stops a few feet away from them, glancing warily at the bed.

“Felice,” she welcomes the girl, managing a soft smile. “I’m sure Wilhelm would be very happy to see you.”

“Thanks, Your Majesty.” Felice’s voice is strained, as though she’s trying to keep the tears at bay. She thinks it must be quite a sight for a sixteen-year-old girl, but Felice recovers almost instantly, maybe due to a whole lifetime of putting up a front for the world to see. As Queen, she can relate. “I wasn’t sure Wilhelm—I mean, the Crown Prince was allowed visits.”

“I think he could use a friend,” she reassures the teenager, motioning for her to come nearer. Felice obliges. “And forget about the formalities while you’re here. You’re friends with Wilhelm, after all.”

There’s a pause while Felice looks down at the pale boy on the bed — her baby — before Ludvig speaks up.

“Have you come alone, Felice?”

“Uh, yes,” Felice stutters, looking up. “Maddie—Maddison McCoy, I mean, wanted to come too but she’s currently in New York.”

“I have to admit, I’m surprised,” she finds herself saying, earning a confused look from both Felice and Ludvig. “I’d thought Wilhelm would have more friends.”

“With all due respect,” Felice says in a tone that screams rebellion. “Students at Hillerska only wanted to be close to Wilhelm because he’s royalty. I don’t think he has a real friend outside of Si—”

Her words falter, and Felice looks down at Wilhelm’s hand on top of the white sheet, hooked to the machines keeping him alive.

“And you?” Ludvig questions softly.

“I wish I could change some things. I just wanted to see him,” Felice confesses.

“Malin, make sure Miss Felice Ehrencrona is in the list of allowed visitors.” When Malin nods and skips out of the room, she keeps speaking. “Maybe you can help us, Felice.”

“How so?”

“We’ve tried to locate someone, with no success. Like he’s vanished.” She can tell the moment Felice understands who she’s talking about. Yet, she clarifies, “Simon.”

“I can’t—”

“We’ve made mistakes,” she says. “I’ve made mistakes. I’m just trying to do right by Wilhelm, this time.”

Felice sighs, gaze torn between Wilhelm and the adults looking at her, and in the end she simply nods.

"I—I can try."

[lire-casander]

if hurting wounds would mend (never left that place inside my head)

[teen and up audiences] [@moviegeek03​, being the amazing human being she is, gave a once-over to this and stated she liked the idea, so here he are!] [title from northern lights by elias] [fluff, suggestion, angst, mentions of hospitals] [written for @flufftober2021 day #3: lazy sundays]

chapter 3 | on ao3

[1000 words]

The sheets pool by the foot of the bed, tangled around their ankles, keeping them together in a boneless heap.

“We need to get up,” Wilhelm whispers, his face still buried in Simon’s neck in the exact same position he went to bed last night. His whole body will ache later, but he doesn’t think he can move right now, even if he’s the one telling Simon to get out of the bed.

“Not really,” Simon whispers back, the sounds muffled as his face remains plastered against the pillow. “It is Sunday. We don’t have anywhere to be.”

Wilhelm takes a moment to register Simon’s words. His whole life has always revolved around appointments and dates and tight schedules, always running from one place to another, always faking a smile when all he wanted to do was scream. It feels weird not to be expected to do anything on a given day.

“I’m just—”

“Relax, Wille,” Simon says, squirming beneath Wilhelm’s grip until they’re face to face. “Let’s just enjoy a lazy Sunday, okay? I know it’s not something you are used to, but try, for me, okay?”

Wilhelm smiles, dropping a kiss on Simon’s nose before pressing their foreheads together. “I suppose I could, for you,” he mutters. After all, there are not so many opportunities for him to be able to skip his duties and just stay in bed for a whole morning.

It’s still a foreign feeling, realizing that he managed to stand up for himself and remain true to his feelings. He still misses his old life, sometimes. But on days like this one, when he gets to hold Simon in his arms, Wilhelm is thankful that Erik survived that car accident with just a broken arm.

He knows he would have had a much harder life, had Erik died.

He sighs.

“Earth to Wille,” Simon teases him. “What are you thinking about? I lost you here for a moment.”

“I was,” he begins, punctuating his words with kisses scattered throughout Simon’s face, “thinking about what life would be, without Erik.”

Simon scrunches his nose. “Why would you think about that? Of all the things we could be doing—”

“Can you imagine?” Wilhelm continues, ignoring Simon’s attempt to lighten up the mood. “I’d have been Crown Prince. I wouldn’t have had a chance at being me.”

It’s a scary thought, Wilhelm believes, knowing that without Erik he’d be the one in the eye of the hurricane, unable to just live.

“Good thing he survived the accident, then,” Simon concedes. “And that he supported you when the video leaked.”

Wilhelm chuckles. “Good thing, indeed.”

“Now, can we go back to what we were doing before you brought your brother into bed with us?”

“And what were we doing, exactly, Simme?” he asks, leaning in and breathing on Simon’s neck before leaving a trail of kisses up and down the supple skin.

Wilhelm adds the sound of Simon’s moans to the list of his favorite things to hear.

“Your resignation,” she repeats, dumbfounded. “You want to turn in your resignation. To us.”

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” Malin says, looking down at her shoes. “I know I should follow the right channels, but—”

“Could you please sit down, Malin?” Ludvig comes to their rescue, his deep voice cutting through the air. The sound of his chair scratching the floor reverberates in the otherwise silent room. “You look like you are about to fall over. Here, have my seat.”

“Your Majesty, I can’t—”

“Please,” Ludvig insists, moving the chair around until it’s facing Malin. He smiles softly when she obliges, flopping down with a grimace of pain. “Now, what were you saying?”

“I—”

She needs to stop this nonsense. And she isn’t even thinking about the situation where the head of the Crown Prince’s security detail is about to turn in her resignation to the Queen, of all people — she is thinking about the fact that all she can think about is how insignificant everything else feels right now, when her son is hooked up to several machines to just keep him alive.

She just wants to scream. She wants to tell everyone that she doesn’t care — that she would gladly hand the whole country over if that meant having Wille awake and alive. She doesn’t want to hear Malin out; she isn’t going to accept that resignation, no matter how deep Malin believes that it is her fault. Even the Queen knows, from time to time, that accidents happen and that there is usually no way of preventing them.

“We won’t accept it,” she finds herself saying before Malin can keep talking. “It was just an accident, Malin.”

“But, Your Majesty—”

The hysterical laugh that she’s been keeping at bay since knowing about the accident — the self-defense mechanism she’s been battling against ever since becoming Crown Princess herself as well, so many years ago — finds its way up her throat and she can’t stop it.

“Kristina?” Ludvig asks, frowning. She realizes, amid her trembling, that he’s never seen her like this, like a normal person having a hysterical reaction, because she’s always hidden that part of herself to everyone.

“I’m—” she wheezes, one hand clutching at her stomach. “I’m fine. I’m just—This is so ridiculous.”

Malin is looking up at her, she can see it, eyes wide open. She couldn’t care less. The laughter dies, giving way to the immense void she’s been trying to keep at bay ever since Erik’s accident.

She has been too focused on being the Queen that she’s forgotten her sons needed her. And now it may be too late for her to make amends with the one son she’s got left.

“Everything is so ridiculous,” she repeats. “We won’t accept your resignation. Wille will need his trusted security detail when he wakes up.”

That settles the conversation. She doesn’t want to think about the possibility that Wilhelm won’t need security — she doesn’t want to think about how he might not wake up.

[lire-casander]

if hurting wounds would mend (never left that place inside my head)

[teen and up audiences] [@moviegeek03​, being the amazing human being she is, gave a once-over to this and stated she liked the idea, so here he are!] [title from northern lights by elias] [fluff, angst, mentions of hospitals] [written for @flufftober2021 day #1: winning a teddy for the other]

chapter 1 | on ao3

[1000 words]

Simon’s laugh, Wilhelm decides, is his favorite sound in the world.

They are strolling around the Christmas market, hand in hand, stopping at different stalls and trying different typical foods as they go, engulfed by the soft fabrics of their scarves around their necks, warming both their skin and their soul.

Wilhelm has never been happier about having stood up to his mother, about having fought for Simon — for them. It had taken everything he had in him, the endless screaming fights and threats and PR speeches written and rewritten time and again, until in the end his father had taken his side, and the fight had broken.

A nation-wide live interview later — several panic attacks later, as well — Wilhelm had been able to live his life freely, even though he’d had to make a few concessions. The biggest one had been yielding the throne to August, his side of the family being next in line.

During moments like this one, when he gets to be just a normal teenager among a throng of people enjoying the chilly weather before Christmas, he can’t bring himself to regret his decision.

“Look!” Simon exclaims. Wilhelm strains his neck, only to see a stand full of stuffed animals and a big neon sign.

“Do you want one?” he whispers into Simon’s hair, pulling him in for a quick hug, dropping a feather kiss in his hair.

Simon nods hesitantly.

“I’ll win one for you,” he says confidently, hoping that his shooting practice will pay off. “Whichever you want.”

And then Simon laughs, clear and loud and free, and Wilhelm makes a vow to never let that sound die.

“That one!!” Simon points out at a teddy bear, delight present in every musical note of his voice. Wilhelm could listen to him forever.

He plans to, anyway.

Wilhelm nods, plunging into the stand and motioning for the guy in charge to give him a toy gun, and ignoring the spluttering that comes with being recognized.

He aims once, twice, three times, Simon’s delighted squeals by his side fueling him. He doesn’t fail. A few minutes later, they walk away with the big teddy bear, matching smiles on their faces.

“Where to now?” he asks, slipping his hand into Simon’s free one, fingers intertwining.

“I don’t think we’ve tried the—” Simon begins, only to be cut off by the sound of music coming from one of the corners of the market. He tugs at Wilhelm’s hand, speeding up his pace until they’re practically running towards the source of the sound.

They discover a choir performing Christmas songs, voices mingling with the background noises from the market. Wilhelm averts his gaze from the stage for a moment to steal a glance at Simon, only to find him transfixed by the music, humming the lyrics under his breath. His face is glowing under the myriad of lights illuminating the night sky.

Forget about Simon’s laugh.

Wilhelm’s favorite sound in the whole world will always be Simon’s singing.

The maelstrom stills when she enters the ER, her steps faltering. Everyone turns to look at her, whispers echoing like thunder against the walls as she approaches the front desk, her husband a few feet behind her, as always.

“Excuse me,” she mutters, head lowered. “I’m here for—”

“Your Majesty,” a soft voice interrupts her. She whips her head around to face a tall man wearing a white lab coat. “If you could come with me.”

She follows almost blindly, her security detail close behind, forming a human wall that keeps the world from interfering, until they all enter an empty office and the doctor motions for them to take a set. She obliges, while the bodyguards and Ludvig remain on their feet. She waits impatiently for the man to start talking.

“Your Majesty,” he repeats. “My name is Mikhail Gluck. I’m the doctor who is in charge of The Crown Prince’s—”

“Wille,” she finds herself saying. He doesn’t recognize her own voice. “His name’s—his name is Wille.”

“—of Wille’s case,” the doctor finishes without even flinching. “I’d like to start with—”

“How is he?” she asks, hands wringed in her lap.

Doctor Gluck sighs. “Your Majesty, there are a few—”

“How is my son, Doctor Gluck?” she insists.

The doctor braves on. “The security detail took the brunt of it, since they were riding up front. Hopefully, both of them will make a full recovery. Wille—his injuries are superficial but he took a blow to the head when the car rolled over.”

“What does that mean?” she questions.

“It’s too soon to know for sure,” Doctor Gluck states. “We will know more when he wakes up. Your Majesty, Wille—your son is in a coma.”

The words feel like a punch, stealing the air from her lungs as she leans forward and heaves. I can’t lose Wille too, she thinks. She faintly hears yells calling for a nurse while Ludvig tries to keep her upright. She can’t breathe, she’s dying.

All she can hear is the sound of the doctor’s voice climbing up the walls of her mind, taking up all the space, puncturing her heart with a force she hadn’t been prepared to fight.

She can’t believe this is happening again. She’d been told Erik hadn’t suffered. But her Wille, her baby who has gone through so much, isn’t going to have that small mercy. Wille, who didn’t want this life. Wille, who’s already shouldered two different life-changing experiences.

Wille, who had sought his mother for advice and comprehension, only to be shot down by the Queen.

Her last words to him had been to remind him of his duties. She’s not going to forgive herself if that is the last memory her son has of her.

And, for the first time in years, the Queen who had forgotten how to be a mother — first and foremost — breaks down at the thought of losing the only part of herself that isn’t buried yet six feet under.

[lire-casander]

if hurting wounds would mend (never left that place inside my head)

[teen and up audiences] [@moviegeek03​, being the amazing human being she is, gave a once-over to this and stated she liked the idea, so here he are!] [title from northern lights by elias] [fluff, mentions of headaches, angst, mentions of hospitals] [written for @flufftober2021 day #5: watching the sunrise]

chapter 5 | on ao3

[800 words]

The memories tangle with the dreams he’s been having lately until they become a jumbled mess in his mind. He knows that he kissed Simon for the first time at Hillerska, during movie night when everything just clicked into place. He knows they’ve been an item ever since, but something has been feeling out of place lately.

And this horrible headache won’t just leave him.

He doesn’t know why he feels so lonely right now, even though Simon is sleeping soundly by his side.

Wilhelm gets out of the bed and saunters to the wide window in their room. The air is chill, so he grabs one of the blankets scattered throughout the place and wraps it around his frame, sitting down on the windowsill to watch the sunrise.

The void in his soul just expands as he sees the clouds giving way to the sun.

He hears a rustle at his back, a telling sign that Simon is awake.

“Wilhelm?”

He doesn’t reply. Instead, he keeps staring ahead, eyes trained to the sky.

“Wilhelm, are you okay? You don’t look like it.”

“My head is killing me,” he whispers.

“That’s it, I’m taking you to the doctor,” Simon says, flopping down beside him on the windowsill. “It sounds like a migraine.”

“No, no doctors,” he manages to squeak out, choked up in the beauty of the sky alight with oranges and pinks. “They’re all fake.”

“What are you saying, Wilhelm?”

“Everything’s fake,” he mutters, memories of a night at the football field attacking him. “Don’t you remember that?”

“Remember what, Wilhelm?” Simon touches his shoulder, making him turn around. “Hey, here, come here,” he mutters. Wilhelm falls right into Simon’s open arms, accepting the love that’s being given to him. “I’ve got you.”

Wilhelm nods, sighing as he allows the heat radiating from Simon to seep under his own skin. He closes his eyes, reveling in the feeling of not being alone, and he almost falls asleep again when a thought assaults him — a thought that steals the breath out of his lungs.

Erik is dead.

He knows it can’t be — he just spoke to his brother last night — but as the thought builds up in his soul and takes him hostage, the knowledge that it’s true settles him down.

He doesn’t know what’s going on, but he knows one thing for sure — something is really, completely, utterly wrong.

“—and after the events from the past days, the Royal Family has released a statement confirming that there will not be a Christmas speech this year,” the newswoman is saying on the TV Ludvig insists on keeping on. “Now, on a different—”

She tunes out the drilling noise as she turns her gaze to the window. The sun is rising, light filtering through the blinds that they keep drawn for fear some paparazzi might catch a glimpse of the fallen prince, lying on a bed in a room on the first floor.

Christmas Eve.

Ludvig is talking to Wilhelm in a muted tone, explaining the intricacies of whatever new hobby he wants to pick up, and the sound is enough to lull her into a calm state.

“Your Majesty,” comes Johan’s voice, followed by the creaking sound of the door opening and a girl carrying a tray with paper cups on it steps inside. “The coffee you ordered has arrived.”

She looks up, a small smile playing on her lips. “Thank you, Johan.” She checks the time on the clock on the wall. “Isn’t your shift about to be over?” she asks gently. “Why don’t you come in and have some coffee with us?”

“Thanks, Your Majesty,” he whispers as he grabs a cup when she offers it to him.

“Don’t mention it,” she says back. She can feel the heat of Ludvig’s gaze on her; she has been trying to find ways to be a better person.

She’s been giving it a lot of thought in the past hours. She knows being part of the Royal Family can be an isolating experience. She can’t even begin to think about how Wilhelm must have felt, alone and lonely without his brother, and isolated from the only person he has ever felt was worth fighting for.

“Johan,” she says in between sips of her own coffee, the hot liquid soothing her. “I need your help.”

“Whatever the Crown needs, Your Majesty,” Johan says immediately.

“Not the Crown,” she continues, earning herself a soft smile from Ludvig across the bed.

“Sure, Your Majesty.”

“Could you please locate someone? All I have is a name, but that should be enough.”

“Kristina, what are you—” Ludvig starts, sounding surprised, before he understands and whispers, “I thought you had told Wilhelm—”

“I was wrong,” she says softly. “Johan, I need you to locate Simon Eriksson.”

[lire-casander]

if hurting wounds would mend (never left that place inside my head)

This year, I’m taking part in @flufftober2021 and I am planning on writing a 25-chaptered Wilmon-centric fic that will dwell on both fluff and angst with a fractured structure. 

Since I’m not writing for all the prompts, please find below the list of prompts I’m planning on doing (this could change, though). 

September 30. Prologue

October 1. Winning a Teddy for the Other 

October 2. Sneaking Out Together 

October 3. Lazy Sundays

October 4. Sparklers & Fireworks 

October 5. Watching the Sunrise 

October 7. Meddling Friends 

October 8. Cooking Lessons

October 9. Text Messages

October 10. Pillow Fight

October 11. Love Notes

October 12. Sleepy Kiss

October 13. Pillow Talk

October 14. Slow Dancing

October 16. Falling Asleep Together

October 19. Flowers

October 20. Secret Crush

October 21. Knuckle Kiss

October 23. Hold Me in Your Arms

October 24. Caught in the Rain

October 25. Cuddling & Snuggling

October 27. “I’m cold” - “Here, have my jacket”

October 29. Up Against the Wall Kiss

October 30. Fall Asleep in My Lap

October  31. Epilogue

The fic will be posted both on tumblr under the tag #if hurting wounds would mend (never left that place inside my head) and Ao3. Stay tuned for the prologue tomorrow!

[lire-casander]

if hurting wounds would mend (never left that place inside my head)

[teen and up audiences] [@moviegeek03​, being the amazing human being she is, gave a once-over to this and stated she liked the idea, so here he are!] [title from northern lights by elias] [fluff, angst, mentions of hospitals] [written for @flufftober2021​ day #2: sneaking out together]

chapter 2 | on ao3

[1000 words]

The sun filtering through the blinds wakes Wilhelm up. At first, he’s disoriented, eyes opening to a foreign room, until his brain catches up and he smiles, looking down at the spot where his fingers are clutching the soft fabric of a t-shirt that isn’t his.

He’s lying on top of Simon, still fast asleep. Wilhelm remembers having informed Malin — and therefore the whole Crown — that he’d be staying at Simon’s for the night. He remembers having dinner with Linda and Sara, and teasing Simon to no end with Ayub and Rosh when they came to play videogames.

He remembers the sheer happiness of fitting in.

“Morning,” comes Simon’s mumbled greeting. “It’s far too early to be up.”

Wilhelm snickers. “Well, some parts of you are definitely up,” he says, earning a smack from his boyfriend. He leans in and kisses Simon softly. “Any plans for the day?”

“Aren’t you supposed to go to the Palace for some boring meeting?” Simon points out.

Wilhelm groans. He’d forgotten that he was expected to make appearances from time to time, but he doesn’t want to go all the way to the Palace today. Not when he can spend his time with Simon in his arms.

“Not feeling like it.”

Simon caresses his cheek and brushes his hair out of his face. “But you have to.”

“What if—” Wilhelm begins mischievously. Simon frowns up at him.

“I don’t like whatever you’re thinking.”

Wilhelm moves, grabbing his jeans and his shirt. He hands Simon one of his hoodies and a pair of sweatpants. “Let’s go on an adventure today,” he suggests.

“Wilhelm,” Simon says in a warning voice. “Last time you ditched Malin, she went ballistic. I don’t want to deal with her when she is angry at you. She’s scariest than the Queen.”

Wilhelm chuckles. He remembers distinctly the stern talking Malin subjected him to the last time he managed to escape from her watch. Malin can be spiteful, and she’d made his life a living hell for week after the fact.

He still thinks it’s worth the risk.

“Dress up,” he commands. “I’ve heard there’s a stunning view of the football field from underneath the bleachers.”

It takes a moment for Simon to understand the true intentions of his prince, but when he does, he follows Wilhelm’s orders in a hurry.

They sneak out the window, carefully making sure that they aren’t seen, and they run carefree through Bjärstad’s streets until they reach the football field, drunk on love. They stop dead in their tracks when they see Malin standing next to the bleachers with her arms crossed over her chest. She doesn’t say anything, though, a small smile painted on her face as they approach her. She gestures towards the bleachers and turns around when they sit down, ready to give them privacy while looking out for them.

Maybe not exactly sneaking out, but Wilhelm will take any given chance to kiss Simon senseless under the bleachers, just because he can.

The room smells like antiseptic and emptiness. She stops on the doorway, her breath hitching as she watches her son on the bed in the middle of the space, hooked up to several beeping machines, motionless and silent.

It feels unreal.

Even as a baby, Wilhelm never was a quiet kid. She had always loved that about him — the way his hands would always be flailing, the light in his eyes as he recounted some funny story that happened at class — but she had also needed to tame that part of him to prepare him for the life he'd been born into. She hadn't missed the way Wilhelm had slowly closed off into himself, nervousness turning into anxiety. She hadn't missed how her son couldn't stop trembling whenever he had to interact with people while acting as a Prince.

Wilhelm had been robbed of a chance at normalcy, and she'd been the one to blame for that.

"Kristina," Ludvig whispers, showing up behind her. "Are you okay?"

She feels a burst of hysterical laughter bubbling up in her chest. Of course I'm not okay, she wants to scream. But she doesn’t say a thing; he's aware of the stress her husband is going through as well. Wilhelm’s always been Ludvig's favorite — the one who wasn't meant to rule, always shadowed by the bigger figure of the first-born.

"I'm fine," she manages to mutter, forcing the words out of her mouth. Ludvig's reassuring hand lands softly on her shoulder. "I'll be, when he wakes up."

"Wille is strong. He'll get through this," Ludvig promises, helping her move into the room.

They both take a seat, at each side of the bed. She grabs Wilhelm's hand and squeezes it, murmuring nonsensical sounds as she tries to keep the tears at bay. Ludvig remains stoic in front of her as the hours pass and there's no change in their son’s situation.

A rustle outside the room catches their attention a while later — she's lost track of time, it could have been minutes or years. They hear ruckus, their security detail arguing with someone, sounds muffled by the closed door until she recognizes one of the voices.

She stands up abruptly, walking to the door and opening it forcefully. Outside, she can see Malin — arm in a sling, face bruised — trying to argue her way into the room.

"Your Majesty," she breathes out.

"Come on in," she says breezily. Her own security part ways to allow Malin to step into the room. Nobody contradicts her — she is the Queen, after all.

The door closes behind Malin, and another thicker silence falls upon them. Malin shifts her weight from one leg to the other, looking at her feet.

"I want to thank you, Malin," she says in a low voice. "For making sure Wille didn’t—"

Malin’s head shoots up, her piercing blue eyes trained to the bed. "It's my fault," she mumbles. And then, louder, "I—I want to turn in my resignation, Your Majesty."