The Problematic Prince

As the servants finished setting up the breakfast table, the garden fell into silence. The soft babble of the indoor fountain was the only sign that time was still ticking by.

   Erna looked up from her empty plate and met Bjorn’s gaze. The pair sat in that awkward silence for a long moment, sizing each other up and not wanting to be the first to speak.

   Erna grew anxious under his cold gaze, subconsciously she started playing with the fork, thankful they had so far managed to avoid the conversation neither of them wanted to have.

   Instead, she thought about the horse he said he was going to buy. She had been telling him of the morning walk, in a mechanical manner, as if they were just going through the motions, when he suddenly interrupted her and announced he would be buying a horse. It was a more efficient means of transportation, than walking all these great distances.

   Taken aback by his sudden interruption, Erna didn’t know what to say. She swallowed her food and took a sip of water before meeting his gaze once more.

   “Thank you, but I’m fine,” Erna said.

   Her attempt to smile caused the corners of her lips to quiver, as if doing so required a lot of effort. Even Bjorn could sense that her smile was disingenuous.

   Rather than force out any words of pretence, Erna simply bit her lip, recognising that Bjorn had a certain aversion to meaningless words and awkward laughter. The servants had brought out honey and wine-marinated figs, so she busied herself with savouring the sweet treats.

   Their dinning together pretty much followed the same pattern each day. Awkward silences and idle small talk as they consumed the extravagant food. Bjorn would present Erna with more and more expensive gifts; jewellery, ornaments and trinkets. They were all undoubtedly expensive, but Erna only found them unnecessarily excessive.

   As the silence stretched on, Erna attempted to broach a safe topic of conversation.

  “Don’t forget we are to visit Duchess Arsene this Wednesday.”

   As she spoke, Bjorn’s eyes narrowed and he set down his glass with deliberate motion.

   “Would it not be better to invite my Grandma over here?”

   “No, she had to visit the hospital a few times, so it would be better to go and see her. Doctor Ericsson has said that now that I am fully recovered, its okay for me to go out.”

   Erna had received an invitation from the Duchess Arsene and realised she had not left the palace grounds since the Heine family picnic, which was at the beginning of summer, it was not deep into autumn.

   The realisation suffocated her and despite the grounds of Schuber Palace being larger than her home village back at Buford, Erna needed to got out of the Palace. The intense desire to get out surprised even her.

   “Bjorn?”

   “Okay, you can go,” Bjorn said with a nod, much to Erna’s surprise.

   “Thank you.”

   Bjorn looked at Erna and as he did so, his usually placid eyes seemed to deepen, as if he was deep in thought, conveying some hidden emotion or thought.

   “Thank you,” Bjorn said, mimicking Erna, “sorry, I’m fine.” His tone was as gentle and soothing as the sunlight bathing the garden. “Erna, those overused replies are starting to get a little boring.”

   Bjorn smiled sweetly at Erna.

   Erna wanted to try and say something, to lift the mood, but found herself at a loss for words. Her mind went blank and she struggled to grasp a thought. 

Bjorn was working hard.

   She had been grateful for the attentive care and attention she was getting from the doctors and the Palace servants were doing their absolute best to keep Erna comfortable. Even the bustling world outside seemed to be some far off place compared to the tranquillity of the palace grounds. Erna knew that all of this was in thanks to her husbands efforts. She felt compelled to work hard and contribute as well.

   I can do that.

   Despite all that he had done for her, he never asked for anything in return. Her duty as his wife was to maintain a calm demeanour and entertain her husband, she feared being seen as a useless wife who couldn’t do anything right. This made her anxious as her heart rarely coincided with what she wanted.

   “A new bed should be arriving tomorrow,” Bjorn said. “I’ve arranged for some decorators to come and adjust the palace to how you would like it, Mrs Fitz will be there as well, let know if there is anything you need.”

   Erna quickly picked up on the patronising meaning behind Bjorn’s words. She had ran from there room in an attempt to avoid the painful memories, but it wasn’t a simple case of redecorating the palace, it was a matter of the heart and there was no quick fix for the emotional turmoil she was experiencing.

   “Bjorn, I…”

   “What? Do you still need more time?” Bjorn asked, filling up his glass. “Until when?”

   It was hard to discern any graceful gesture as Bjorn put down the water jug and brushed away a hind of something discernable. Erna knew that if she asked Bjorn for more time, Bjorn would give it to her, but she was unsure of what to say, a week, a month, next season? Nothing seemed like a suitable answer.

   “When the new bed comes in, you will move your room back,” Bjorn said, as he drank to moisten his lips. “It will be finished with by the weekend, if you can’t do that, then I will.”

   “Bjorn.”

   “The Archbishop’s teachings instructed that the married couple will share the same bed, no matter how uncomfortable. Have you forgotten about the thorny path you wanted to walk together?”

   There was a hint of mischief in the smile that floated on Bjorn’s lips. Married couple. Erna felt a blush rise to her cheeks as he repeated her own words back to her.

   Erna became ashamed and miserable in the face of those words that were the same, but felt different. She couldn’t shake the feeling of being belittled and ridiculed, even though Bjorn didn’t mean it that way.

   The words, ‘married couple’ was a reminder of the love that had once given Erna everything she had ever wanted, but to Bjorn, ‘married couple’ may have simply been a pleasant sounding phrase, like the name of a pretty flower, devoid of any actual deeper meaning and emotional weight.

   “Erna.”

   As Bjorn called out her name, his voice was sweet and affectionate and the way he looked at her was tender, like a lover. His slowly emerging smile was enchanting and Erna could only nod in resignation, feeling despair at the memory of the things that once made her feel love.

   Bjorn seemed satisfied with the simple gesture.

   As he was about to continue the conversation, an attendant came to the table and informed him that it was time to go.

   Erna straightened her dress and followed Bjorn to the front, where she would see him off, like she had done every day, like normal. 

Bjorn hopped into the carriage with his usual light step. As he was about to duck into the carriage, he stopped and turned to look at Erna. He stared at her for a long moment, not saying anything.

   Once the carriage was out of sight, Erna retreated back into the Palace, the trail of servants close behind her. As she passed into the entrance hall, the soft swish of her footsteps came to abrupt end as she stopped in front of the Royal coat of arms on the floor.

   “Your Highness?” Mrs Fitz asked.

   She approached the Grand Duchess cautiously. Erna just stood and stared at the ground, then around at the rest of the mansions entrance hall, like a child suddenly finding themselves some where unfamiliar.

   “Are you okay, Your Highness?”

   “Ah…” Only then did Erna seem to realise where she was, turning in surprise.

   Erna let out a small sigh, her complexion noticeably paler. Her eyes were blank and expressionless, and betrayed her unease and concern.

   “I will call the doctor,” Mrs Fitz said.

   “No,” Erna shook her head, “I am just a little tired. I will be fine.” Erna tried to smile at Mrs Fitz, but it was weak. “I’m sorry, Mrs Fitz.”

   Erna continued onwards, up the red carpeted stairs and before she reached the top, she looked up to the lofty ceiling and took in the grand spectacle. Everything she could see was part of some overly large and splendid world. Erna felt out of breath, as if the grandeur of the palace suffocated her.

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

“I’m sorry Bjorn couldn’t be here, he had a prior engagement,” Erna said.

   Despite feeling overwhelmed, Erna maintained a dignified smile as she spoke. She seemed no different than all the other time she visited the Duchess Arsene during the run up to Bjorn birthday.

   “It’s fine, I didn’t want to see you, thinking you might have turned into some wraith, but you look positively fine,” the Duchess replied, her words a mix of jest and sincerity.

   Erna looked at her, side eyed, not sure how to take the remark, but in the end she smiled. Her demeanour had certainly improved since the last time, but the calm and control made the Duchess feel uncomfortable.

   Erna’s turmoil was festering below the surface and despite trying to maintain something as simple as a smile, the Duchess could sense Erna’s unease. She did not want to ignore the Grand Duchess’ obvious distress and risk breaking her heart.

   “Have the other guests arrived yet?” Erna asked as she surveyed the parlour. “Am I the only guest?”

   “Why, don’t you like my company any more?” the Duchess teased as she stroked Charlotte.

   “No, its not that, I just thought you had invited a lot of people to join us for dinner.” Erna looked at the drawing room again, then back at the Duchess.

   “What’s so good about the Dniesters?” the Duchess said, shaking her head.

   Charlotte hopped onto Erna’s lap, as if attempting to console her and mewed loudly for attention. Erna smiled at Duchess Arsene’s light words, taking some comfort in their conversation.

   They chatted as they had done every previous Wednesday while dinner was being prepared. The Duchess couldn’t help but notice that Erna’s eyes, which used to sparkle with wonder when she spoke of her husband, had lost their lustre, which touched Duchess Arsene deeply.

   “My dear, you don’t have to try so hard,” the Duchess said, clicking her tongue in soft disapproval.

   “It’s fine, Grandma, really,” Erna said. Duchess Arsene just shook her head, the girl really had not talent for lying.

   Their conversations were disturbed when a servant came into the room.

   “Madam, another guest has arrived.”

   “Guest?”

   “Yes,” the servant didn’t at all seem put out by Duchess Arsene’s question, “Prince Bjorn has arrived.”

   The Duchess was always open to welcoming guests into her home, but she couldn’t help but shake her head disapprovingly at a guest who said they could not come, but came anyway. She couldn’t forgive her Grandson for deceiving her though.