Chapter Text
‘Wille, I heard you are in town. Wanna come over for a few drinks?’ His friend Pelle from his former public school had texted him.
‘Yeah, needed to get out of here anyway. I’ll be there in thirty.’
After arguing with his mother about some upcoming event he was expected to speak at, he desired nothing more than getting out of the palace. Yes, it would cause trouble, but who cares? Wille didn’t care about that right now.
The only problem with sneaking out of the Drottningholm Palace was sneaking out of the Drottningholm Palace. It would be just as hard as it sounded, but Wille had done that plenty of times in the past. But things had changed; with the growing media attention, he couldn’t just walk out of the Palaces doors. His guards would immediately deny him the exit.
Bribing or blackmailing was not an option either, the last time he had tried to do so, it had ended with a month of being grounded. In order to punish him ‘accordingly’, his parents had forced a private tutor on him, not even allowing him to leave for his then public school. It was an utter mess. Trying to come up with words of apology for the guards that had snitched his attempt to bribe.
The relationship between him and his parents had not improved since then. They send him off to Hillerska, hated him for the release of the sextape and protected August.
The only one being there for him was Erik.
He was no longer his older brothers priority.
Duties above all, then his girlfriend, his friends, his hobbies…… and somewhere down the lane was his younger brother.
Wilhelm was left alone.
The heir was to busy for the spare.
Simon dumped him.
A few drinks with his former friends were going to help.
‘Pelle, is there any chance Olle could pick me up. I’m at Drottning, can’t really sneak out here without help. Olle would know how it works…”
Mere minutes later Pelle replied: ‘He’ll be there in 15. My brother organised the good stuff, you’ll like it.’
He jumped up from his bed, looking around the dark room. A party at Pelles place with the boys: a bit more formal. Slacks and a dress shirt.
He threw the first pair of what he could find on and quickly searched for his dark wollen coat. It was cold and it would help him not get recognised.
Escaping through the official or their private entrance was impossible, a combination of hidden corridors, following through a five minute walk to the not surveillanced spot had a way better rate of success. Wilhelm believed some of his escape routs to be so unknown that only he and a handful of people know about it.
In the last year or so he had perfectioned his route to the point, it would be impossible to catch him. No need for begging or bribing.
Tiptoeing out of his room, out of the personal quarters was the hardest part.
He had managed to do so. The Queen and Duke were very obviously still awake, but did not notice him. To busy planning some event.
Hidden corridor after corridors followed, until the icy themperatures hit his face. The feeling of freedom.
He took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air. In the palace, most of the time it was rather stuffy.
He ran, he hid, he tiptoed and then he ran again.
His former classmate Olle awaited him in his black limousine, likely stolen from his father. Does he even have a license?
Wilhelm did not care.
Olle and him bursted into laughter once they were on the bridge which was going to take him temporarily of the golden cage.
“It’s good to see you again Wille. You’ve … changed.”
“Maybe a little.”
The driver eyed him up and down: “not just a bit, buddy. Look at you, you are tiny and that haircut is … well it’s something,” his former classmate laughed.
Embarrassed, Wilhelm laughed along. He did not want to explain the whole story to how he was forced to adapt a “ more royal” hairstyle. His parents considered the previous one as childish and ungroomed, whereas this was was considered appropriate.
As Olle navigated the limousine through the city's streets, Wilhelm couldn't help but think about how much things had changed since he last spent time with his former public school friends. It had been a while.
The silence in the car was finally broken by Olle, who turned to Wilhelm and said, "You know, Wille, I don't care about that tape. I haven't seen it, and I don't intend to. We've known each other for a long time, and I won't let something like that change how I see you."
Wilhelm was relieved by Olle's understanding and sincerity. It was good to know that at least one of his friends didn't judge him solely based on the tabloid stories and the media circus that had surrounded him lately. "Hm thanks," Wilhelm replied. However, he wished that he had not brought up this topic. It still caused him too much pain.
As they pulled up on the crunching gravel driveway of Pelle's house, Wilhelm couldn't help but feel a mix of nostalgia and anticipation.
Even though he had attended a public school, it was in the wealthiest neighborhood, and most of his old friends had aristocratic or very wealthy backgrounds. Just a tiny contrast between his royal life and the lives of his friends had been present, mostly due to his title and his mothers importance. They were almost as wealthy, but had the privilege to mess up and not end up on the tabloids front pages.
They stepped out of the limousine and walked towards the entrance of Pelle's house. Wilhelm couldn't deny that he felt a sense of belonging here. As they entered the house, the sounds of laughter and chatter grew louder, and Wilhelm knew that he was in for a memorable night.
Inside, the atmosphere was warm and inviting. The boys, his former classmates, greeted him with drunken smiles and slurred words. It was like stepping back in time, as if he had never left them.
Pelle, the host, handed him a glass of whatever he had mixed, and Wilhelm raised it for a toast. "To whatever we are using as an excuse to get high and drunk," he said in a way that only Pelle understood him.
The later one smirked.
Wilhelm finished the entire cup, not caring what Pelle had given him. If the other ones were drinking it, it must be fine.
The night seemed to blur into a haze of laughter, music, and flashing lights. Wilhelm lost track of how many drinks he had, and the world around him began to move in slow motion and fast-forward simultaneously. It was as if time itself had lost its grip, and he was caught in an endless loop of blurred moments.
The colors in the room became more intense, as if every detail was amplified. The music pounded in his ears, and he moved to the rhythm of the beat, feeling the bass reverberate through his bodyw. All the expectations, responsibilities, and judgments seemed to fade into the background, drowned out by the cacophony of the party.
His former classmates, his friends, encircled him, and they all seemed to be in a similar state of drug induced euphoria. They raised their glasses and cheered, celebrating, and Wilhelm couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging he had not felt in a very long time.
Someone passed him a joint, and he took a deep breath, the smoke swirling around him. It added to the surreal atmosphere of the night, making everything even hazier. He exhaled slowly, and the laughter of his friends echoed in his ears.
As the hours passed, Wilhelm's connection with reality grew tenuous. He danced, he laughed, and he even attempted to sing along to songs he barely remembered. The world spun around him, and he felt strangely liberated, unburdened by the expectations that had weighed on him for so long.
Somewhere in the midst of the revelry, Wilhelm's thoughts turned to Simon. The memories of their time together flooded his mind. The way Simon's eyes would light up when they were together, the warmth of his touch, the feeling of being truly loved and accepted. It had been a week since Simon told him he did not want be his secret, but the pain of losing Simon still lingered.
The pain seemed to dull, and he allowed himself to let go of it, at least for the night.
The party raged on, and Wilhelm lost track of time. He moved from one conversation to another, sharing stories, laughter, and moments of camaraderie. The weight of his title, the expectations of his parents, and the complexities of his family relationships faded into the background.
Eventually, exhaustion crept in, and the intoxication began to take its toll. Wilhelm found himself in a quiet corner of Pelle's house, surrounded by cushions and dim lighting. He closed his eyes, feeling a blissful sudden sadness washing over him.
As Wilhelm lay back against the cushions, the effects of the drinks and substances he had consumed seemed to wash over him fast and very strongly. In the midst of the dimly lit corner, the walls closing in on him, he was overcome by a sudden, overwhelming realization.
Tears welled up in his eyes, and he felt a lump in his throat. The weight of his recent breakup with Simon hit him like a ton of bricks. All the pain, the loneliness, and the heartache that he had been trying to escape from crashed down upon him in that moment. The public outing, the disappointment in his mothers, the Queens, eyes.
As the tears rolled down his cheeks, Wilhelm's shoulders shook with silent sobs. He had been running away from the pain and the pressure, seeking refuge in the haze of the night, but now, in the quiet corner of Pelle's house, he confronted his own loneliness more than ever. He was in this himself, Erik and his entire family being mostly unavailable, his ‘friends liking his status more than him as a person. Nobody fucking cared.
The absence of affection from his parents, the relentless expectations that had been placed upon him, and the isolation he felt all came crashing down on him. He had been trying to escape this reality, but it had caught up with him in the most unexpected moment.
He was never going to satisfy his family, the country, the people.
His phone rang: Erik.
Fuck.
Very bad.
It could not be worse.
Ignoring or picking up? Both bad.
Ignoring: Erik is going to worry and search for him. Maybe resulting in this pelles place being raided by säpo.
Picking up: Erik is going to notice that he is high and drunk. Definitely resulting in being grounded and scolded, likely being picked up immediately. By säpo? The chances were not against zero.
Wilhelm hesitated for a moment, his phone buzzing with Erik's call. He knew that picking up was the lesser of two evils, as ignoring the call would only escalate the situation. With a sigh, he swiped to answer the call. At least he tried. It took him several attempts to hit the acceptance button.
"Hello?" Wilhelm's voice was shaky, and he attempted to sound as sober as possible.
On the other end of the line, Erik's voice came through, filled with concern and anger. "Wilhelm, where the hell are you? We've been looking all over the Palace, and you're nowhere to be found. Are you okay?"
Wilhelm cleared his throat and tried to steady his voice. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just needed to get out for a while. I'm with some friends." He left out the part about being high and drunk, hoping Erik wouldn't notice.
Erik's tone softened with relief. "What did you take? Wilhelm I can hear it. I’m not stupid. We are worried sick, you can't just disappear like that, especially with all the media attention on you. Where are you?"
Wilhelm glanced around the dim corner of Pelle's house, realizing that he had no idea of the address. "Pelle. You know him. But don't worry, Erik, I'm good."
Erik wasn't convinced, and Wilhelm could sense his frustration. "You need to come home now, Wilhelm. I'll send someone to pick you up."
Wilhelm knew that he couldn't let that happen, not with the substances in his system and the state he was in. "No, Erik, I can't. I need some time. Please,"he slurred. He wondered how he was able to form a somewhat proper sentence.
There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Wilhelm could practically feel Erik's concern and inner conflict. Erik sighed. "Fine, I will not send someone. I’m coming myself. I’ll be there in 15. If you are not waiting outside, I will drag you outside. I will spare you the embarrassed of getting escorted out by the security detail."
"Nooo, Erik," Wilhelm replied: "I'm fine."
As the call ended, Wilhelm felt a mix of anger and guilt.
He knew he took a grand risk by running away initially, but he needed this break from the suffocating expectations and loneliness. He wiped away his tears and tried to splash water in his face, hoping to look more presentable.
He already heard Eriks voice of disappointment, felt his fathers scolding gaze and his mothers angry words.