Chapter Text
Erik stared out of the window and took several deep breaths because he didn’t want to shout at his lillebror. He didn’t know what was going on with Wille, but he had been despatched to deal with accusations of him picking a huge fight with August of all people. Erik arrived at Hillerska a half-hour ago to find Wille still bleeding, an ice pack pushed to his forehead, and his mouth firmly shut. He wouldn’t tell anyone what had happened. He was even refusing to speak to Erik for possibly the first time in their lives, but he would have to speak eventually. Erik had to find a way to make Wille talk because if he did not, their mother would appear at Hillerska as soon as her schedule allowed and she would just shout at everyone and make it worse.
There had never been a time when Erik was not the most sensible person involved in raising Wille.
There was only a few years between them, but still. Their mother returned to full time duties before his brother was even a month old. The nurses and governesses came and went, so Erik took it upon himself to give baby Wille the stability, kindness and love that was so lacking in the adults around them. As a consequence they are closer than most brothers, he knew, and he was adept by now at balancing his duty to Sweden as it’s Kronprins, and his duty to Wille as the only adult he could rely on. He wouldn’t ruin that by screaming at the boy. He did his best to calm his ire and turned to look at his brother.
Wille was still slumped in defeat, his posture closed and miserable. He was staring down at his phone, texting frantically and entirely ignoring Erik. That was interesting in itself. Erik didn’t know Wille had anyone he could text when he was going through tough times. On a weekend like this, the kids were busy with study or goofing around in the common rooms, or maybe taking a nap. There had been no witnesses to the skirmish between the royal cousins by the stables until the ruckus they caused caught the attention of a passing staff member. Erik had been despatched immediately as Her Majesty and the Duke were both busy. Erik knew August was languishing in another chamber with the Headmistress, who no doubt was coddling his black eye and broken nose. She was inordinately fond of the boy, as were most people. He was a people-pleaser in a way that Wille would never be. Despite his reputation as the party prince, his baby brother was gentle, anxious, and slow to anger. He didn’t like August for reasons Erik had never understood but still, they were family. Erik encouraged their friendship because of that alone. Being a prince was a lonely business, he knew, and people one could depend upon were rare. So far all he had learned this afternoon was that Wille started the fight, but neither Wille or August would admit to more.
Erik leaned against the windowpane in his corner of the room, and kept observing Wille. He had stopped texting and was looking at the closed door to the room with an expectant air. Sure enough, the sound of running feet could be heard coming closer, and in a moment a small whirlwind, or perhaps a boy, burst into the room. He didn’t notice Erik, who was still hidden to the side, and made a beeline for Wille. “Mi amor,” he cried softly, reaching out at once. The young prince looked up from his slump with brightened eyes, and the other boy stepped right between his knees to cradle his bloodied face between small, brown hands. He gently pulled Wille’s head to rest against his own chest. Erik was surprised to see his brother sigh heavily and fall into the boy’s skinny arms as if finding rest at last. The tension that Erik was used to seeing in Wille’s shoulders seemed set aside for a moment in a way he didn’t even know was possible for Wille to achieve.
Erik watched his brother press his face into the newcomer’s collarbone as if blocking out the world, and took the time to observe. The boy looked vaguely familiar, so Erik thought back carefully. As Kronprins, he had trained himself to remember names and faces. He had never been introduced to this boy, but he remembered seeing him sing on the first day that Wille came here. He recalled the way his brother had stared intently, smiling and then applauding enthusiastically in an unusual way. At the time, Erik had thought Wille was glad to see Felice Ehrencrona, or maybe even August. Clearly neither of those options was the case. The boy stroked Wille’s hair as if he had done it many times before, sifting through the long, blond strands soothingly. He was murmuring gently in Spanish, rocking them together, and Wille was nodding in answer.
As far as Erik knew, Wille didn’t speak Spanish. Languages were not his strong suite so if he had started learning, he must have had a powerful incentive.
Erik looked at the smaller boy’s pretty, fluffy curls and smooth bronze skin. He was a striking beauty even from Erik’s odd angle of viewing, and the voice that was soothing Wille was soft and melodious. His clothes were odd; cheap and ill-fitting, they would have marked him as lesser in the rarefied air of Hillerska. He wasn’t ‘one of us’, clearly. A poor boy then, maybe a scholarship student, so he must be as clever as he was talented and beautiful. Wille muttered something in Spanish and the boy stilled. He turned to look at Erik for the first time, raising startled, deep brown eyes with long, pretty lashes. Erik had the passing thought that the boy was heartbreakingly lovely but tamped it down easily.
A powerful incentive indeed. Erik had a bad feeling about what August had done to push his gentle lillebror to violence.
“This is Simon,” murmured Wille, loud enough for Erik to hear. His voice as he presented the other boy suggested he was exposing a rare jewel to the sunlight. As Erik moved forward, fixing a polite smile to his face, the young prince slowly got to his feet. He kept an arm wrapped around Simon’s waist, both of them knitted tightly together against the world. Erik had a moment of disconcerting surprise, maybe even jealousy. Wille had never had anyone but him, before, but this boy had come in and taken Erik’s place. He stepped forward mechanically to shake hands as Wille said awkwardly, “This is my brother,” as if Simon would somehow not recognise the Kronprins. Erik noted the grip Wille had on Simon’s hip. It dipped past his jacket and below a hoodie that Erik suspected belonged to Wille. Even as Erik made simple, breezy small talk, he thought, ‘Oh. The boy hasn’t taken my place. He’s made a new one.’
For his part, Simon was staring back with equal interest. He seemed to have recovered from his earlier startle. “I’ve heard so much about you,” he told Erik brightly. “Wille talks about you all the time.”
“All good things, I’m sure,” said Erik lightly. He cringed internally but it was the sort of banal thing people said.
“Oh of course,” replied Simon gracefully. His smile was dimpled and guileless, almost impossible to resist, and Erik found himself smiling back in automatic reciprocation. But there was a stark difference between the relaxed way Simon had been with Wille and the way he was holding himself now. For a few moments he was playing the game of meeting the Kronprins, making small talk and saying the expected things, but Erik knew he wasn’t seeing the real person beneath. It was interesting that Wille had chosen a … friend … who at first glance seemed rather well-suited to the double lives they lived.
“I came as soon as I could,” continued Simon, looking anxiously at Wille. He reached up and carefully moved the ice pack from Wille’s forehead. Beneath was a small cut which hadn’t stopped bleeding and was becoming gummy and gross. The bruising around it marred Wille’s normally pretty face. “Have you been seen by the nurse?” Wille shook his head and Simon tutted impatiently. “I will go and find –”
“No, please don’t,” pleaded Wille, shaking his head for emphasis. He winced as the movement clearly made him feel worse. “I don’t want a fuss. They’re only going to shout at me anyway.”
“They will not,” said Erik firmly. “I won’t allow it. But this needs to be looked at, Wille.”
Simon seemed to relax when Erik made it clear he was on Wille’s side. “My mother will be home within the hour,” he mentioned incongruously, and to Erik’s continuing surprise, Wille perked up.
“She could look at it for me, couldn’t she?” he asked eagerly. He turned to Erik. “Linda is a nurse at the local hospital. I’m sure she can sort it out.”
So it was decided. Erik spoke to the Headmistress, saying he wanted to take Wille off-campus to see if he could get some sense out of him. She let them go with bad grace, but clearly didn’t feel able to nay-say the Kronprins. In a few short minutes, Erik shepherded the two boys into his newest car and drove them to Bjärstad under Simon’s guidance. Both boys sat in the back, ostensibly so that Simon could keep an eye on Wille’s cut, but really so Wille could press back into Simon’s neck and shed the tears he had probably been holding in all this time. They whispered together and Simon kept stroking Wille’s hair until he calmed. Watching them in his rear-view mirror, Erik felt oddly satisfied. Wille had never found a way to be close to anyone other than him before. Erik himself didn’t mind the lack of physical and verbal affection in their home, but from the very start, that life had not suited Wille. He watched Simon run a proprietary hand over Wille’s shoulders, eliciting a whine from the other as he no-doubt pressed over some bruising. Still Wille pushed into his hold, and Simon held him as if he would never let go. It was what Wille had always needed, Erik recognised.
The Kronprins drove more sedately than was his wont, not wanting to jostle his brother’s head. In a run-down, shabby part of town, Erik found the boy’s humble home. It was messy and crowded with the detritus of two teenagers and a hard-working single mother, and Simon looked embarrassed as he seated them both in the lounge area. There was clean laundry balanced on an armchair which he whisked away with pink cheeks, ignoring Wille who protested in slow, poorly-delivered Spanish. The ruckus caused another door in the house to open, and a girl stepped out. She was introduced as Simon’s sister. Erik was interested to note that she didn’t seem awestruck to meet him, nor embarrassed to have sudden visitors. Instead she stared at him critically and said, “You looked more handsome on tv.” Simon seemed horrified, but Erik barked a laugh and relaxed into the comfortable sofa. Wille giggled too, catching Sara’s attention. “What the fuck happened to you?” she asked in surprise. Wille looked down and mumbled, the word ‘August’ being the only thing heard clearly. “Oh well, it was only a matter of time, I suppose,” said Sara airily, heading towards the kitchen. “About time someone showed him. Did you get caught?”
“Ja,” said Wille lowly. His eyes flicked to Erik.
“Estúpido,” replied Sara cheerfully, and returned holding a fresh ice pack in a clean tea towel. “If it’s still bleeding, mama can put a stitch in it. She’ll be home soon. Try not to get blood on the towel.”
“Oh, you’re an angel of mercy, you are,” groused Simon, finally done putting away various bits and pieces around the house. It was a bit tidier than before, and Erik kindly pushed a pair of socks that were lying near his feet under the sofa. They sat together comfortably, Simon making tea and bickering gently with Sara. Despite her brusque demeanour, she kept a close eye on Wille’s forehead. Soon a key was heard in the door, and everyone looked up gladly to welcome Linda Eriksson.
If Linda was astonished to find both Princes of Sweden standing awkwardly in her living room, she did a superb job of hiding it. She gave kisses to Sara and Simon in the hallway as they both surged forward, all three talking over each other at the same time in rapid-fire Spanish. Her deep brown eyes trailed over Erik and passed quickly to Wille as she broke away from her children.
“Mi principito, what has happened?” she gasped, coming forward and grasping Wille’s face between her palms in much the same way Simon had done earlier. She guided him quickly to the dining table where the light was brighter. Wille’s face still being captured in her hands, it was left to Simon to explain that there had been a fight with August. “Aieieiei,” sighed Linda. “Bring my kit, Sara. This will need a stitch, mi valiente, and it will hurt, mmm? Would you rather go to the hospital?” Wille managed to indicate that he would rather stay, so Linda changed out of her coat and carefully washed her hands. She pulled a few things from her medical kit to clean the wound and placed a butterfly stitch in Wille’s forehead. He stayed very quiet throughout, and squeezed Simon’s hand. After Linda declared herself finished, she hugged Wille very tightly and whispered a few words of comfort in Spanish that brought tears to his eyes. She allowed him to hide his face in her neck as she rocked him back and forth, her voice tender and motherly. Simon hugged him from the side, and Sara reached across to rub his arm and murmur that he had been brave.
It had been a long day. Unexpectedly, Erik wished he could have a hug too.
Afterwards, Linda finally spoke to Erik and welcomed him. He was anxious not to impose upon the exhausted woman any further and politely tried to extract himself and Wille from her home, telling her that he planned to take the boy to the local pizza place for dinner. Linda wouldn’t hear of it and insisted that they stay. To Erik’s astonishment they were all set to work cutting and preparing various food items, and in an incredibly short space of time, they sat down to a simple, flavourful meal around the small table with the mismatched chairs. Sara played with her food for a while and eventually left to eat in her room, but the others didn’t seem to find that strange. There was chatter and laughter, and Erik was delighted to find Wille relaxed and happy in a way he had never seen him before. His brother was practically glowing despite the bruising on his face. He didn’t seem to be touching Simon anymore, and Erik wondered whether he was mistaken in what he had seen earlier. But no, Simon had called him mi amore, and even Erik knew what that meant. Maybe it was simply that this shift was new, and they hadn’t decided to tell anyone yet.
Erik thought that Linda was watching the boys too, and at a juncture when they were looking at something on Wille’s phone and giggling together, he made eye contact with her in a way that said, ‘are you thinking what I’m thinking?’ She nodded slowly, her dark eyes guarded as they watched him back. Erik smiled warmly, hoping she would see that they were on the same side and find comfort. The fact was, anything that brought Wille joy was okay with him. They would deal with everything else later, somehow. Erik would stand by Wille against the court, just like he always had. The Kronprins could see that the Erikssons were warm and loving towards Wille in a genuine way that had nothing to do with his title and wealth. It was a rare quality, and he was glad that Wille had recognised it. If Wille wanted this boy, then Erik would see to it that he got what he wanted.