As for me, I’ve been busy with my own things. For one, I’ve started seeing a psychiatrist. He comes to the house once a week and we go into the study and we just talk things out. I took a few tests for ADHD and passed them with flying colors, which means to say I got about a ninety-five per cent on all of them. I know there’s a spectrum of it all and every individual is different but I’m definitely part of that club.
Honestly, it’s a relief more than a hindrance. I’ve always felt different in countless ways and now I know the reason why. Now I can step back and look at the way I work a little differently. Most of all, I can stop beating myself up and give myself some slack. And just as I’ve gotten hyper-focused and obsessive about certain things before, I’m learning as much as I can about this to come up with a game plan moving forward.
I’m not sure yet if it will include medication, though I’m sure it will as the years go by. For me, exercise, vitamins, meditation and counselling will only go so far. After all, right now my decisions don’t affect the whole country, but one day they will. When that time comes, then I might have to go that route. I just hope I won’t be too stubborn when the moment arises, when I become king. I may be changing in some ways, but at heart, I’m still one stubborn shitbag.
I’ve also started going to the high council meetings with my father. It’s an adjustment for sure—I stick out like a sore fucking thumb among all the politicians and officials—but I’m just trying to soak it all in.
What I’m not trying to do is let myself focus on my father’s health. It’s hard. Even though he’s going to these meetings, I can see him slowly deteriorate and I think the others can too. He’s putting on a brave face and thankfully his wit and warmth is as bold as ever, but it takes a lot out of him. One meeting, and he has to sleep for the next two days.
He hasn’t been doing any public appearances either, though he assured me he will for the wedding. That scares me the most. I don’t want the world to speculate about him, because I know, once they see him they will, and my father doesn’t deserve that. Sure, it comes with the territory of being the king but I’m the one people should gossip about. I’m used to it.
“So, have you talked to your father yet about him walking you down the aisle?” I ask Ella just as the plane’s wheels touch down. Another part of our engagement blitz is having to go to various nearby countries and meet with other royals and leaders. It’s all just public relations, but apparently it must be done.
Thankfully, today is our last day of doing that, and we’re actually visiting a man I call a friend, King Aksel of Denmark. Actually, he might be greeting us as we step off the plane.
“I’ve tried,” Ella says with a heavy sigh, staring out of the plane’s window at the runway. “Schnell said to try again tonight.”
Ella has been having some issues getting in touch with her father. Even though he’s repeatedly talked to my father on the phone about the wedding and everything, he hasn’t talked to Ella. Of course, given their history, Ella is taking it all very personally.
Actually, we did attempt to make a stop in Liechtenstein to say hello to her family and make a public appearance before her own people, but we weren’t able to set anything up in time. I just hope, for her sake, she gets to talk to him tonight because I know this wedding is extremely stressful and hard on her, and all she really wants is her father to be there and show a bit of love and support.
It’s funny, sometimes I completely forget why this is happening. Things with Ella, our actual relationship at this point, has felt so easy that I trick myself into thinking that I had actually proposed to her because I was in love, that we met under normal circumstances and this is how our lives are naturally playing out.
But of course, that’s not the case at all.
It doesn’t matter what I feel for Ella at the moment, I still can’t forget that this whole upcoming marriage is a publicity ploy to make me look good in the public eye. And that fact looms over me, looms over us, whenever I take a moment to think about it. It’s a heavy weight to carry.
What we have is based on a lie, and it’s a lie that the both of us will have to take to our graves. I’m trying not to think about it too much because it honestly does scare me, but I worry that whatever real feelings I have toward her will be overshadowed by how fake everything else is.
I used to be so fearless.
Then I met Ella.
Then I realized how much I really stand to lose.
“Are you okay?” Ella asks me, placing her hand over mine. I hadn’t noticed that I was gripping the arm rest. “We’re here. We’ve landed.”
I give her a quick smile and pass it off as nervous flying.
We head out of the plane and onto the private air strip outside of Copenhagen. It’s as cold as a polar bear’s balls (I don’t need Einar for that one), but there’s no snow yet.
King Aksel stands beside a row of official vehicles, flanked on all sides by his royal guards. He’s wearing a long black coat and a black hat, and I’m reminded of some emperor or perhaps a villain from Game of Thrones.
“Wow,” Ella whispers from behind me as we go down the stairs. “He looks so impressive.”
I won’t let myself get jealous over that remark. King Aksel is pretty impressive. Aside from the dramatics of his clothes, he’s got that classic Danish face that is both sharp-jawed and austere and rough at the same time. He’s also forty, which is pretty damn young for a king.
We approach him, and he gives me a nod as I bow to him.
“Magnus,” he says to me, holding out his hand. “Glad you could make it.”
I shake his hand. “I’ve been looking forward to this. You’re the only royal on this continent with a decent scotch collection.”
He nods. “I brought some aquavit in just for you.”
Oh yes, that’s the other thing about him. He doesn’t smile. At least, I haven’t seen him smile in years. He’s got his reasons though.
But I step back and introduce Ella to him.
She, of course, has that smile that brings me to my knees if I’m not careful.
It has zero effect on him, which puzzles her, but she takes it in stride.
We get into his SUV and I do what I do best, which is to talk everyone’s ear off because I can’t stand uncomfortable silences. Aksel listens because that’s what he’s good at (and probably why we get along so well), and Ella interjects a little here and there.
I’d warned her ahead of time not to mention the Queen or a wife since his wife died suddenly last year, and it’s a sensitive subject. You’d think that would be the reason why he’s so emotionless and quiet, but he was like that before she died. Now it’s just increased ten-fold.
During the winter the King stays at the Amalienborg Palace, which is absolutely huge and way more opulent and grandiose than my family's. Sometimes I think the Danes and the Swedes are always trying to one-up us. I guess that’s what we get for getting all the Viking love and recognition.
Even though this is a friendly visit, it's also one that my father and mother set up to try and facilitate a more professional relationship with the Danish public. When it comes to Scandinavian countries, all the royals are fairly close with each other and can treat each other like family, hence my relationship with Viktor as well as Aksel.
The thing with Aksel is, he is a king, and he is a bit older than me and because of that, I don't quite have that same dynamic with him as I do with Viktor, who is a prince my age. In the past, that would sometimes put distance between Aksel and I, depending on how much I was hating formalities and authority at that time. But now, now I feel like I can learn a lot from him.
But that will come later. For now, there's a fancy dinner at the palace with Danish politicians and officials, so the moment we arrive, Ella and I are shown to our room where we get ready.
“He certainly is the silent type,” Ella says as she pulls her dress out of her suitcase and inspecting it for wrinkles.
“He’s not so bad when you get him going,” I tell her.
She cocks a brow. “Is getting him going another way of saying getting drunk?”
I laugh. “Pretty much.”
“I feel awful for him to lose his wife like that.”
“And leave him with his two young daughters.”
Her eyes go round, and she lets out a soft gasp. “Daughters? You never told me he has kids.”
I take out an assortment of colored ties. “Yup. Sweet girls too. You know, as far as children go.”
She pauses, putting down the dress for a second. “You’re not a fan of kids?”
I shrug because I haven’t thought about it either way, and then I realize who I’m talking to.
My wife to be.
“You just shrugged…” she says.
“Sorry,” I tell her, giving her a quick smile. “I’ve honestly never thought about it.”
“You’ve never thought about it?”
I shrug again, and I can tell that’s driving her crazy. She’s getting that fiery look in her eyes.
“I don’t know what to say,” I tell her. “It’s just never been on my agenda. What, has it been on yours? You’re only twenty-two.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I frown. “That you’re young, and you shouldn’t be thinking about shit like that.”
“Shit. Like. That?” she repeats slowly, and now I know I’ve entered the danger zone.
No choice now but to back away slowly.
I pick up a purple tie and start waving it around. “This is a white flag. I surrender. Let’s not argue.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “It’s too late for that. The door has been opened and I am stepping in.”
I give her an odd look. “That’s not the wittiest saying you ever had…”
“Magnus, just because I’m young doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about having children, because I have.” I open my mouth to speak, and she raises her finger to cut me off. “And before you say anything ignorant, it’s not because I’m a woman either. I just happen to want them, and I know that already.”