Chapter Text
History makes fools of us, makes puppets of us, often enough. But it doesn’t have to repeat itself. In the current case, much lies within our control. I’m not asking for censorship. I’m not asking for pious humbug and smarmy reverence. I’m asking us to back off and not be brutes. Get your pink frilly frocks out, zhuzh up your platinum locks. We are all Barbara Cartland now. The pen is in our hands. A happy ending is ours to write.
Hilary Mantel - ‘Royal Bodies
His mother was nowhere to be found. Wilhelm had wandered through the palace in search of her, walking towards her private room only to find her maids cleaning empty quarters. Naturally, he proceeded to walk to her offices, assuming she’d woken up early that day. But it seemed Sweden had no Queen that morning. He pulled his phone from out of his pocket, flicking it open and dialing his mother’s number. No surprise, she wasn’t picking up. He hung up and called his father, but the call went directly to voicemail. He dialed his mother again who once again did not answer.
He stayed on, waiting for the robotic voice to tell him he could now leave a message. He was angry at first, and had planned on giving his mother a piece of his mind. How dare she hide away after that? Take the coward’s way out? There was no need for confirmation; her absence today told him everything he needed to know. But the silent treatment was a particularly low blow, even for her. Was she so ashamed of what she’d done? Or was it part of the punishment?
His thoughts kept spiraling in different directions, from hurt to anger, and by the time the voicemail started, he found that there was nothing that he could say. He knew he had nothing to apologize for, and had no real regrets. His mother knew she’d fucked up: what other reason did she have to hide from him like this? But he realized he wouldn’t receive an apology, at least not one that was proportional to what had been done to him. So what was the point?
He didn’t call again. He stood there for a few minutes, examining his mother’s offices. As children, he and Erik made up a silly game where they’d tried to sneak inside her office without being invited or noticed. Wille always tried to sneak in while someone else went in, a butler bringing tea or something of the sort. He’d then hide behind a shelf or under a table. The ultimate goal of the game was to surprise their mother in some way, before running out the room before anyone could yell at them. It had been Wille’s favorite game as a kid. He’d been a tiny thing, shy and skinny. Hiding under nooks and crannies came more natural to him than they ever did his brother, who’d been a loud and charismatic child. But what Wille had loved the most had been the thrill of breaking the rules, of seeing his mother’s shocked face whenever they surprised her. Wille had believed he’d never lost, until a few years before that his mother confessed she’d known all along about the game.
“ Gubben, I could always hear you two giggling,” she’d admitted. “Whenever you managed to break in, you’d give yourselves away with your laughing. But every time you jumped out from your hiding spot, you’d both have these enormous grins on your face. I loved seeing your little faces like that, so I pretended to be surprised.”
The room was still largely off limits to him, and it still carried those memories. That day, it hurt to think about them. It hurt to think about his mother loving him, about his laughter being something that made her happy. Her rejection felt almost exactly like grief, with the sole caveat that it still left room for hope. That made it cut deeper almost, like every new version of the rejection hurt as much as the first one did.
But as he stood awkwardly in the empty room, he realized that this would be the last time. It would be the last time he’d set foot in this room, the center of the crown he was supposed to inherit. It would also be, he realized with an enormous sense of relief, the last time his mother would pull one of these tricks on him. As of now, he would simply be her son. Her weighted excuse, her constant justification of ‘it’s for the Crown’, had now ended for good. So, he wouldn’t waste his time demanding an apology.
Just then, an incoming call came in from his phone: Simon. The name on the screen was like a siren call, only instead of dragging him under it was releasing him from the current that was the palace, the crown, that room.
Wilhelm had messaged him earlier: at first a panicked response of what was happening, followed by a more calm reassurance that he was going to do something about this. Simon hadn’t read any of them, having gone to sleep quite late the night before and slept through the morning news. His fiancé had had an hour-long battle with an unassembled piece of furniture, and his ‘last seen’ status had been at 3:00. Wilhelm hadn’t had the heart to call him, to shake him from his sleep with all of this.
“Hi baby,” Simon’s voice said in Wilhelm’s ear as he walked out, “I just saw? What’s happening there?”
It only took a few more hours for the remaining press, national and international, to catch on. By lunchtime, he and Simon had become breaking international news. It wasn’t the first time someone renounced a Crown for love nor the first time a European monarchy would disappear, leaving room for a democracy. But nothing of the sort had happened in this century, let alone in the era of live news and social media.
They watched in real time as the political implications became sensationalist tabloid fodder. They included pictures from the last couple of weeks, paparazzi photos of Simon walking around, a big red circle drawn on the ring on his fingers that until then had gone unnoticed. There was a flood of speculation, online and in the news, about what was happening. The story was quickly spun in a thousand different ways. They were easy enough to at least categorize. Story A: Simon had manipulated Wille into giving up the Crown, and had started a wedge between Wilhelm and his mother, etc. Story B: His mother was a raging homophobe that had refused to accept their relationship. He supposed neither version of the story was necessarily untrue, but they weren’t really the entire or accurate truth. In neither scenario was he really making a decision about his life. In one, Simon was the one calling the shots, and in the second his mother had placed him between Scylla and Charybdis.
This last part was at least true of their current physical situation. Earlier that morning, he and Simon had decided to stick to their original plan for the day. Simon had arrived at the palace with the intention of bringing over the last of Wilhelm’s things. But the paparazzi had caught Simon on his way over, and the pictures of him driving a rented SUV towards the palace had gone viral before he’d even gotten to the parking lot. The knowledge that Simon was in the palace was enough to drive every journalist their way, the wave of them increasing as the day progressed. They hadn’t moved for hours, the whirlpool of press outside enough to swallow them whole. Theoretically, they could of course leave at any point as if nothing had happened. But inevitably, that would mean the press would follow them into their new residence, guaranteeing that they'd know no peace there, not now nor at any other moment. Scylla and Charybdis actually sounded more pleasant.
The only thing they could really do was try to give them something , enough to convince them to drive away from the palace. Wille also wanted to be wise about this decision. Stories A and B were already out there, and were both believable in their own right. Wille wanted to tell a Story C: a story that explained his decision, a story that included Simon but didn’t hold him accountable. Preferably, a story not too detailed, but intimate enough to satisfy their audience.
A press release had already been written, but it had been to-the-point and diplomatic, scheduled to be released once the wedding had happened. Now, that simply wouldn’t do. Luckily for him there were still some people on his staff, who’d remain up until the moment he was gone. Martin, his private secretary, and Maja, who was in charge of his communications, were both there and fully prepared for the crisis at hand. Simon was there too, a previously unseen addition to their meetings, despite how often he became a topic of discussion in them. But there had been no time for formal introductions, and Maja wasted no time trying to think about what their angle would be.
The task proved more tricky than expected. In one of the smartboards in his office, she’d written in clear penmanship ‘ Love Over Duty?’ Then, she’d dismissed her own idea, because that could so very easily be read as selfish. Then, after Martin’s suggestion, she’d written ‘Edward VIII’. Martin thought of a twist, so it could be ‘I can’t do my duty without love’. He then proceeded to reference Edward VIII, who in his abdication had claimed he couldn’t bear “the heavy burden of responsibility without the woman he loved.” But Maja had scrapped it too, after Simon’s jab of ‘Let’s not bring the guy who was buddies with Hitler into it’.
Still, they all agreed that love had to play an important part. Because, yes, he had done it for love in a way. And love was the sort of thing that the tabloids would drink up, as long as they could turn it into a juicy piece of drama. But he was worried this would be taken into the direction his mother had steered it. He could already see the headlines: ‘How the Crown Prince was seduced into Republicanism’.
He said as much, making Maja scrap that idea as well.
Simon had smiled at him softly from where he sat on Wille’s desk, and he thought suddenly how that wouldn’t be that much of an unlikely idea. They hadn’t properly seen each other in a couple of days, and despite the overwhelming stress they were currently wonder, a part of Wilhelm’s brain kept thinking back to how nice Simon looked today, with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, and he had to resist the impulse to move closer, to press his nose against the messy ringlets so he could drown in his perfume.
The irony was that Simon could have seduced him into most things, if he’d wanted to. Wille would have followed suit, content in simply being with Simon. Perhaps he should have felt embarrassed of how whipped he’d been from the go, of how besotted he still was to this day. Had Simon been anyone else, then perhaps yes, he’d be ashamed. But Simon had always been careful with Wille’s heart. He would have never considered manipulating Wilhelm in any way or taking advantage of that power. No matter how anti-monarchy he was, it wasn’t in Simon’s nature to be that cruel with his loved ones. And suddenly, the solution felt so so clear to him.
“Look, the truth of the matter is, Simon is not the kind of person that would have ever pushed me to do something like this. I’ve always had a hard time feeling comfortable in my role as Prince, but it wasn’t until I began thinking about marriage that I was forced to face those things head on. It’s not so much, ‘I did this for love’ but more, ‘Love led me to this realization’.”
Maja looked up at him for a few seconds, as if carefully examining his words. Then she simply moved towards her computer and began furiously typing.Peering over her shoulder, Wilhelm watched as yet another angle – this time, the right one – snaked into existence from the blinking cursor:
‘Some time ago, I made the decision to ask Simon Eriksson to marry me. Mr. Eriksson has been my support for several years. There was no doubt in my mind that I wanted to marry him. However, a new set of doubts appeared. As the Crown Prince, a marriage to me carried a series of responsibilities to the State and to the country, and I felt uncertain about making such a request. I have never wanted to be the Crown Prince of this country. The responsibility has always been difficult for me, more so because it was never supposed to be mine. I could not ask Mr. Eriksson to become my partner if I was not certain myself that I wanted to carry out these responsibilities. After careful consideration, I made the decision to renounce my place as Crown Prince, as my own conscience and personal beliefs would not allow me to do so.’
“Obviously, we need to clean it up a bit,” Maja said, finally looking up from the screen. “And we could include some of the things from the original release after, the bit where you talk about your mother.”
The end of the original release read something along the lines of, ‘I cannot think of a better end to this chapter of our history than my mother’s time as a monarch.’
The quote had been an attempt at kindness for his mother. Wilhelm had completely forgotten they’d included them. After everything that had happened today, the mere mention of her name made him want to cry.
It was very late by the time they finished unpacking his things. Wille didn’t know where they’d gotten the energy to start unpacking with the day they’d had. The only thing that had kept him going was the knowledge that they had absolutely nothing to do the next morning, and if they finished with this that night, they could spend the entire day tomorrow snuggled in bed. Doing something with his hands, though, had been helpful for him. The day had been quite mentally exhausting, Wille felt like his body was still filled with a mountain of nervous energy. Simple, repetitive tasks like organization often helped him disconnect. But even after unpacking and putting away most enormous piles of clothes and artifacts, Wilhem still felt wired and couldn’t bring himself to fall asleep.
He was angry too, that today’s events had tarnished what was supposed to be an important first for them.
They’d reviewed the statement a few more times before sending it out to the public, but even before it was out Maja had anticipated that it probably wouldn’t be enough to appease the media and that they’d likely have to follow it up with something else. Wilhelm always hated when Maja was right.
She suggested a photoshoot in the garden, making the point that they hadn’t been seen together yet.
“They’re after their money shot,” Maja said. “Not… oh stop it, not like that!” she added after seeing the shocked expression on Simon’s face. Wilhelm stifled a giggle at the ‘Children…’ muttered under her next breath. “But this is how they’re going to be thinking about it,” she continued. “These pictures are going to be making a lot of money.”
Of course, the photographers would still be able to ask them questions, so Maja would invite only the press that would be more friendly. The downside to this plan was that they needed to think carefully about their presentation . So, they had to call up a hair and make-up team, and have Martin run out to find an outfit for Simon. Wilhelm had left behind the ‘for emergency’ suit in his office, and he found it ironic how now out of all moments was the time to wear it. They spent what felt like hours with Maja preparing for the interview: practicing poses and smiles, rehearsing for a few different scenarios while Maja filmed them, trying to make sure that they looked absolutely perfect in every shot—straight backs, chins parallel to the ground.
They rehearsed a million different types of answers, Maja even encouraging them to share the joke about Wille’s not-proposal proposals after Simon mentioned it in passing. If any journalist went rogue with hard-hitting questions, Wilhelm was to paraphrase the words said on the release.
After all their preparation, the photoshoot only lasted about fifteen minutes, and the questions remained basic and fluffy. They’d even shared a kiss, a chaste peck of their lips, and the photographers had gone wild for it, trying to take as many pictures from as many angles as they could. It had been almost like an out of body experience for him: he almost couldn’t feel Simon’s glossed-up lips against him over the overwhelming sounds of the camera clicks. A money shot, indeed. After that, they managed to run off before something else would bring them back.
He’d felt deeply uncomfortable through it all. He didn’t want to say anything, though—not wanting to be rude to Maja or Martin who’d worked harder than they needed to today, out of what he could only assume was concern for him.
The kiss had been the worst of it. It wasn’t so much that their kiss was photographed. They’d come a long way in regards to being affectionate publicly, the scars from the tape having healed significantly. He’d come to terms with the inevitability of his getting photographed, and had chosen the path of radical acceptance. Although the Crown often tried to bury them, any savvy internet user could find pictures of them kissing. All sorts of pictures, from soft kisses in the streets of Stockholm to steamy make out sessions during their many holidays together. So it wasn’t the kiss that had bothered him, but the overall performance around it. It was more about the fact that they’d both stood there, as the cameras clicked away, and kissed for them. And hours later, as he lay in bed utterly exhausted, all he could think about was the sound of the cameras clicking.
“ Amor, duérmete ,” Simon mumbled into his pillow, interrupting his train of thought. He felt bad, knowing Simon only switched to Spanish like this when he was particularly tired.
“It’s fine, Simme,” he answered, “I can’t really sleep right now.”
“¿No tienes sueño?” he said, turning so he was facing Wille. Or rather, so he could hide his face on Wilhelm’s chest instead of on the pillow.
“I just… I don’t know, I keep thinking about today.”
“It was a long day,” he said, in Swedish this time, “and they were so annoying.”
“What’s that word your mom uses? The one that means pubic lice?”
Simon chuckled before mumbling “L adilla ”.
“ Reporteros son ladilla” he said in what he hoped was a decent imitation of Linda.
“Close enough,” Simon chuckled. He began kissing Wille’s sternum, the warmth of his lips almost tickling him. Wilhelm shifted his shoulders, giving Simon more space, Simon’s lips grounding him back into the present.
“What’s keeping you up?” Simon asked after some time, bringing his hand to play with Wilhelm’s hair.
“I don’t know,” he said, “The whole thing was just so practiced and fake. It felt weird. It felt like…”
“Like the Crown Prince was announcing his engagement?” Simon offered.
“Yeah… that’s it,” he said with a sigh, Simon’s words making it all click together in his head, “How rehearsed it was... how inorganic. I think at first I was so concerned with saying anything so mamma wouldn’t have the last word. But honestly, this feels worse somehow.”
“Don’t beat yourself up.” Simon whispered. “It was a stressful situation, and you handled it the way you’ve always known how to.”
“That's the thing. The whole point of this is that I want things to be different now. And I guess it feels a bit like a bad omen that even when I’m saying I’m leaving, that I’m still stuck repeating the same pattern.”
“Look, I know that it’s hard to see it that way because of everything that happened today. But that’s just not true. Things were different today. We were there, together, making decisions about what we wanted and didn’t want to say. Sure, it was probably a bit of a fluke. But we were thrown to the sharks. That’s not going to be true again. And… the way I see it, unlike every other time that you’ve been in this situation, you don’t have to just stay still and take it.”
Simon was right, he realized. Things were different now. He thought back to the bravado of that morning, how much he’d wanted to make this right and how disappointed he’d been with himself at what had come out of the day. And before, he’d have had no other choice but to stay quiet, to say nothing more. After all, when it came to royalty, it was alway better to speak less. The thought was enough for him to let go of the rest.
“You’re right,” he said, and his next exhale faded into a wry chuckle. “How come you’re always right?”
“I’m a genius, didn't you know?”
He moved closer to Simon, suddenly aware that they were together again for the first time in weeks, and that tonight they were finally home together.
“Sorry if I woke you,” Wilhelm said, “It’s been kind of an intense day.”
“It’s ok, baby,” he said, closing the distance between them so they could wrap their arms around each other, “it’s over now.”
He wanted to be even closer to Simon, wanted to bring their lips together and kiss him for hours, until the memory of today’s premeditated peck was completely erased from his body. He tried to bring his lips to the back of Simon’s neck, knowing which buttons he could push to get Simon to melt in his arms. But the second that his body began to relax, the exhaustion of the day finally caught up with him. He fell asleep almost without meaning to, lulled by the sweet thought that they’d also have tomorrow.
In the end, Wilhelm decided on an interview, and they decided they’d be doing it together. Maja helped them arrange it all, and a few days later, an SVT camera crew alongside the reporter who’d be questioning them today. Ms. Falk was well-known to the public for being both thorough and trustworthy, which was already a marked difference from the kinds of reporters Wilhelm usually sat in front of.
True to form, she began the interview without too many pleasantries, giving them a perfunctory congratulations on their engagement, before smoothly transitioning into her first question:
“Given how long you’d been in a relationship, your marriage comes as no surprise to the public. However, your decision to marry without state or government consent has been quite shocking. Is the reason for this, as many believe, that the Queen has refused to grant you consent?”
“No, that is not the reason,” he said trying to match the seriousness of her tone and delivery, “Quite the contrary, my mother had privately offered to give her consent, but I refused that offer.”
“And you refused knowing what the consequence would be? That you’d be considered ineligible to be the heir to the Swedish throne ?”
“Yes, I was. ”
“Were you also aware that according to our current legislation, this would set in motion the end of the Swedish monarchy after your mother’s reign?”
“Yes, I was also aware.”
“Crown Prince, you stated in your original release that ‘you could not ask Mr. Eriksson to become your consort while uncertain of your own willingness to be in this role’. Now, for some days now there's been endless speculation in the media about the meaning of those words. What exactly were the reasons that led you to choose this? What, if any, is the role that your partner made in this decision?”
“First of all, I want everyone to know that this wasn’t a decision that I made impulsively. I don’t think it’ll come as a surprise to the country that I’ve struggled a lot to accept the demands that this kind of world requires. Ever since I was a teenager, I had a difficult time coming to terms with the demands of being a Royal, in a way that no one else in my family did. I was always told that being a Royal was an important responsibility. It came with an immense privilege, which of course was very nice. But above all, it was a duty and a responsibility to dedicate ourselves to the nation. This meant having to make an immense personal sacrifice: being a Prince always before being an individual, and any aspect of our lives that went against that criteria needed to be pushed under the rug. I always struggled with this. I could understand that our work was important, but I always found it frustrating that, unlike for example a politician, our private and public lives were enmeshed into one. A lot of my rebellious behavior as a teen came from my inability to accept this. I wanted to simply be Wille, and not Prince Wilhelm. But then, my brother died and I found myself with an even bigger responsibility on my shoulders, and one that was clouded by grief and the desire to do right by Erik. So, I found a way to mute my own discomfort while I attempted to balance these two personas of Prince and individual.”
He paused, turning his head towards Simon, who’d been looking carefully at him all this time. Simon had smiled softly at him, and the smile said ‘Go on, you’ve got this’, while also saying ‘I’m here, and I love you’.
“I love Simon so much,” he said before turning back to the camera, “and marrying him is something I’ve wanted to do for years now. Recently, we began seriously discussing marriage, and it was because of this discussion that I started to think again about this discomfort. Only this time, I had a lot of additional experiences working as a royal, and I had a much clearer idea of what exactly it was that we do for this nation. And once I sat down and examined it all, I could see that we are, at best, overpriced performers playing the supposed part of a nation. We cost the nation over a million kronor each year, while we do work that creates little to no impact in our nation’s communities. We have no power to truly change or influence anything, and if we did, we’d be no different than authoritarian dictators. Yet, we exist above the law: if we were to behave unethically in any way, we couldn’t be impeached or voted out. I mean, my own mother could commit the most heinous crimes and she wouldn’t face prosecution for them. While the role of representing the nation is important, it’s not proportional to either the immense privilege nor the immense personal sacrifice we make. After I had come to accept these realities I could no longer continue to be a part of this institution. So, the conversation into marriage shifted from Simon and I marrying and having him become my consort into our marriage serving the purpose of my, if you will, abdication.”
“So from what you’re saying, it sounds like it was your deliberate intention to abolish the monarchy with this choice, is that right? ”
“Yes, and no,” he said with a chuckle. “The way I see it, this legislation was not something put in place by me or any other monarch, but by the Riksdag itself. It was our democratically elected parliament that made this decision. It’s a decision that I believe still represents what the majority of Swedes want, including myself. I, Wilhem, personally believe that the best thing for our country would be to take this opportunity to have a smooth transition from one governing system to another. Those beliefs influenced my choice, but they’re not the sole reason why I’m doing this. As any other citizen in this country, if after my wedding the Riksdag made the decision to elect a new heir, I’d respect it. But it is my sincere belief that, in today's world, monarchies do more harm than good, both for the nation and the individuals in it. I hope that the people who wish to continue with the monarchy at least take that into consideration.”
The rest of the interview continued with the same intensity as those first questions. Ms. Falk seemed surprised at his honesty, and her question became increasingly more poignant. She asked about his mother’s reaction, about what he’d do with his money, if he’d be associating with any political party.
He answered it all honestly: that he was excited to finally be able to vote but he wouldn’t be associating with any political parties, that he was planning to expand on his philanthropic work he’d done as Crown Prince, that his mother had not spoken to him since the day he’d come out with the truth spoken.
Some questions had been directed toward Simon as well, although Ms. Falk seemed more interested in his relationship to the media throughout their years together, and the way in which he’d been repeatedly turned into a scapegoat by the tabloid press. He’d even gotten the chance to talk about his work, saying simply that he’d started working on the score of a big project that he’d be able to announce soon.
When the interview finally ended and the crew had left, Wilhelm felt an immense sense of relief. He didn’t have it in him to speak, his throat slightly sore after what had almost been two hours of uninterrupted questioning. Still, when his eyes met Simon’s across from him, he couldn’t help himself from breaking out into laughter.
“Let me guess… you also can’t believe that all just happened?” Simon said, laughing at Wilhelm’s childlike giggling.
Officially, he had a few more days with the Crown on his head. But as far as he was concerned, that interview had been the end of Prince Wilhelm. There’d be no more room for debate, no more compartmentalizing himself for the sake of appearances. He’d never been a particularly religious person, but this moment felt like a baptism, washing away his old titles and concerns. For the first time in his life he was, simply, Wilhelm.
Their wedding took place a few days later, in a forest hidden in the Ehrencrona estate. Felice had changed to this location following the leak, knowing it was too remote for any paparazzi to find them. It had been nothing like the weddings they’d fantasized about in California, too windy to be part of anyone’s dream.
It was a small affair as well. Felice, Maddie, Rosh, and Ayub had come, as well as two of Simon’s closest friends from KMH. The only family present were Sara, Linda and, to everyone’s surprise, Ludvig. He’d shown up a few minutes before the ceremony started, made even more conspicuous by the fact that he came alone. The wedding had been short and uneventful; they’d said ‘I do’ and signed a few documents, and with this almost banal ceremony, they legally became each other’s spouse.
They’d planned a slightly more romantic affair, and had even gone so far as to write vows for each other. Wilhelm had written about how his entire world had shifted when he heard Simon sing, how even though he’d been young and stupid, that something had always felt right about loving Simon. How beautiful it was that their love had grown and changed, as they themselves grew and changed, and how he couldn’t wait to see how much their love would change and grow in the years to come, how he was happy that today they became each other’s family. He was certain that they’d be faced with a lot of difficulties, and life had already taught him that neither the good nor the bad things could really be anticipated. But he vowed, in front of their closest friends and family, to be there for Simon through whatever cards the universe dealt them, to do so lovingly and carringly for the rest of their lives.
Simon had written about how, by the time he’d first realized he had fallen in love with Wilhelm, they’d already been broken up. But even amongst the shame and pain of that break-up, he’d been unable to stop loving Wilhelm. When they got back together, Simon had another realization, one he hadn’t shared with anyone until now: that he never wanted to be without Wilhelm again. Happiness for him had become synonymous with Wilhelm’s smile. The real one, the Cheshire grin of a smile that lit up his entire face, and the sound of his voice as he whispered ‘I love you’. And at the time, it had felt a little foolish to say all of that out loud, because they’d been teenagers with all the odds stacked against them. But now, on their wedding day, he’d say them for the first time, as both a promise and a vow: he loved him, and he didn’t want to be without him ever again.
In the end, neither one of them read their vows during the ceremony. The night before, Simon had suggested they practiced reading them out loud to each other, so they wouldn’t be taken by surprise on the day of. The result was that they’d both had ended up in tears, which were followed by laughter and kisses, because gosh weren’t they embarrassingly sappy. They decided in the end that they preferred to keep those words for each other only, that it felt more profound, mystical even, to keep these ‘I love yous’ only for them. Perhaps, for the next wedding (the big, fancy, dreamy one) they’d go all out with the public declarations of love. They’d even joked about having it filmed, to post it online as the ‘Un-Royal’ wedding or something silly like that.
But, for now, they’d keep things simple and subdued: while the ceremony took place, a scheduled photo appeared on the Crown Prince’s official account_. It consisted simply of a photo of the two grooms that had been taken a few days prior. They were dressed in matching white sweaters, with Wilhelm resting comfortably against Simon’s legs as they both smiled happily to the camera, with a caption simply thanking everyone for their recent support, and signed by Simon and Wilhelm Eriksson.
