The Problematic Prince

  “Bjorn.”

    Erna whispered his name as he stood at the entrance to her bedroom.  She blinked, trying to wipe away the dazed feeling on her mind. Her eyes reflected him as he approached, his gently tousled hair twitching in the breeze coming through the slightly open window.

   “You look tired,” Erna said as he approached. “Are you okay?” she whispered softly.

   Erna was filled with concern at this tall, dark stranger approaching her and Bjorn did what he always did, he laughed. Same old Bjorn. Her words were not what he expected at all and it was very characteristic of Bjorn to laugh in the face of it.

   He came over and sat on the edge of the bed and looked around the room with reddened eyes. Memories of the exceptionally hot summer came to mind, following the shadows of the curtains as they swelled and sank in the soft breath of air. The distraction with the dead poets sister had distracted him to the point he forgot that summer would soon be coming to an end.

   Bjorn had never considered the work to be all that difficult. He always focused on finding the best solution for any problem that came his way, but the constant busy work was taking a toll on him and he was becoming increasingly fatigued. He felt like a taught string close to snapping.

   He was exhausted.

   Bjorn pressed his hand against his eyes, trying to sooth the burning there and smiled dejectedly at Erna. His gaze had slowly found its way to meet hers. Her clear, bright eyes reflected concern for him.

   The meeting with the ministers had gone on far longer than he had hoped, while Leonid suggested he rest at the palace, Bjorn was insistent on returning home to his wife.

   He understood the reason for his foolish stubbornness, even though he couldn’t even explain it to himself, it was all for Erna. He simply wanted to see her and he was glad that she wasn’t asleep yet.

He missed her.

   “Has something else happened, did that book get you into trouble gain? I saw the book,” she consciously looked at it on her bedside table. “I wanted a better understanding of what was going on, I’m sorry, I needed to know, but I am more confused than ever, Bjorn, can you explain it to me?”

   “Later,” Bjorn said.

   He reached up and undid the ribbon that held up her nightgown. Erna realised his intention when his hands grouped at her breasts.

   “Bjorn!” Erna snapped, but her protests disappeared in his kiss.

   He fiercely thrust his tongue into her mouth and massaged her tongue with it. He pulled down her pyjamas so that Erna’s top half was completely exposed.

   “Later, Erna,” Bjorn laid Erna back, his shadow casting over her, “later.”

   He pulled the pyjamas off completely and lowering himself to pin Erna to the bed. He kissed and sucked at her. Her cheeks and ears, lips, the nape of her neck. The sound of urgent kissing poured out into the dark shadows of the room.

   “Bjorn, wait, the baby,” Erna cried out as Bjorn’s hand travelled over the delicate bump of her stomach and down between her legs. Erna’s resistance intensified.

   Bjorn stopped and looked at Erna, she was holding his wrist rather firmly. The attending doctor had specifically said not to share a bed for at least a month. By Bjorn’s reckoning, that was only a couple days away, what difference could it make?

   “It’s already the end of the month,” Bjorn said.

   He brushed his hair from his face and looked down at Erna with uncertainty. Now that he thought about it, he was at a loss with what to do with a pregnant woman. As there was a child inside her, she was naturally a little weaker, he knew he probably shouldn’t have embraced her so forcefully, but he wasn’t sure he could control himself.

   “Its okay,” Bjorn said soothingly, “I won’t put it in.” He felt like such an idiot, talking like that, but he didn’t stop.

   Feeling Erna’s grip relent, Bjorn gently pinched her chin and kissed her parting lips. He licked her tongue as she fled and held her breath. His hand roamed over Erna’s body and as it started to appease the startled woman, the warmth took over him.

   “Erna, open your eyes,” Bjorn said, letting go of her pouting lips.

   Erna was gasping for breath with her eyes closed and when they opened, they looked as if they saw him for the first time. Her wet blue eyes were beautiful as they sparkled with the dim light of the bedside lamp. His desire was ardent as much as it was pathetic, throbbing in his trousers, kept caged.

   “You have something to tell me,” Erna said, stroking his cheek, she couldn’t figure it out for herself.

   “Later Erna, I will,” Bjorn replied in a subdued voice and lowered his trousers.

   When he pressed his body against her, he could feel that she was as wet as her lips, she let out a groan that tickled the back of his neck.

   Bjorn swallowed Erna’s lips as she tried to speak again and moved his hips without hesitating. He gripped and squeezed the sheets to fight the urge to dig deep into her. He would have to explain it to her, he knew he would.

   Bjorn pressed his lips into Erna’s neck and heard harsh breath escape from her. Her sweet scent intensified as her skin glistened with heat. His mind was now in a haze of pleasure, feeling her soft skin and warm body against him.

   He had repeated the explanation so many times already and she’s read the damn book, how could she not understand? He wanted the world to go away and it just be the two of them. Hug this woman, hug her tight and never let her go.

   Bjorn moved his waist automatically while his mind drifted away. Erna kept trying to push him away, but he was not conscious of what she was doing, he just vacantly looked into her beautiful and desperate eyes. She looked so pretty, with her flushed face and pleasurable moans. The thirst of his misplaced desire reached a dizzying high and the overwhelming sensation shook him back to consciousness.

   He was barely able to suppress the urge to push himself inside her and as he finished, she rolled away quickly, like she was running away from his arms. He looked down at her and smiled, pulling her back in close for a hug. The night breeze, carrying the fragrance of the garden, blew toward them as they lay side by side.

Erna gazed absently about the room, lit by the soft glow of the bedside lamp, the book sat underneath it. She tried to ignore the movements of Bjorn’s hands between her thighs and the unrelenting kisses along her neck. Consumed by the misery of the moment, all she could do was bite her lower lip, fighting back the urge to moan.

   As her consciousness wavered, she remembered the time she had spent hunting down a copy of that book and the secrets that it revealed. Fragmented memories of the past year fractured in her mind and pierced her thought like shards of jagged glass. All this time she had been made to feel like the villain, taking the place of the perfect Princess Gladys. The weight of it consumed her and caused her anguish.

   In that moment, she couldn’t help but think about Bjorn, how he must have felt, giving up the crown just to protect the Princess’ chastity and hide her infidelity, and the child she bore from another man.

   He moved and writhed on top of her now, in a slow rhythmic sway as he gazed down at her. Though she didn’t know what to do, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. She had the whelming desire to cry, but it manifested as desperate moans.

   Bjorn smiled at her as their eyes locked, that devilishly charming smile spread across his face and made his grey eyes sparkle in the dim light, it made Erna’s heart sing.

   Erna reflexively covered her belly, like she could protect her child from this. Her scent wafted up and filled her head with the dizzying aroma of sex. A lukewarm tingle spread up to her head.

   Bjorn’s breathing subsided and he slowly adjusted his dishevelled clothes. His body was overwhelmed by the sweet sense of powerlessness, rendering him unable to move as he desired. Instead, he let out a peaceful and satisfied sigh, laying down next to Erna and nuzzling into her neck. She could feel the pounding of his heart.

   Bjorn’s breathing became slow and laboured, succumbing to sleep. The gentle embrace of slumber was as comforting to him as the woman he cuddled.

   “Bjorn?” Erna’s voice trembled slightly as she called his name.

   Taking a deep breath, Erna gently pulled herself out of bed and rose to her feet. The remnants of their love making still clung to her, serving as a potent reminder of her situation. The obedient and smiling wife, eager to satisfy his lust. Erna felt like an artificial flower, a commodity bought for a high price.

   In an attempt to erase the melancholy, she picked up the discarded clothes and tidied herself up. She pressed the heel of her palm into her eyes, trying to suppress the deepening sadness that refused to be shaken off. The cold floor beneath her feet brought some relief to the heat of anguish.

   Erna went into the bathroom and washed herself, changing into a fresh nightgown. She combed her tousled hair. It was as if she could wash away the memory of what just happened, but when she went back into the bedroom, Bjorn was still there, sleeping, refusing to let her forget.

   Erna stood there for awhile, staring at the man, before turning away. She returned moments later with a brass basin and a neatly folded towel. She could hear the faint sounds of the grandfather clock chiming midnight.

   With a heavy sigh, Erna set about removing Bjorn’s cloths.