The Problematic Prince

The bathroom was quiet, save for the sound of splashing water and the servants shuffling about, no one dared to speak as Erna had her bath.

   Erna sat silently in the middle of the bath, looking down at the petals that floated on its surface and waited for the time to pass. The lead up to her return she had been so terrified, but now that she was here, she felt calm in familiar territory. She didn’t know why she made such a fuss about returning to the palace.

   “Your Highness,” Lisa said, casting a worried look at her mistress, “if you don’t feel like it, Mrs Fitz…”

   “No, Lisa,” Erna said, raising her head.

   Lisa saw the grim acceptance on Erna’s face and lowered her head without saying anything further.

   After the bath, Erna got ready for the night, draping a long gown over her frail body and tying her hair up in ribbons.

   “Have a peaceful night, Your Highness,” the servants said as they departed.

   Erna stood along in the middle of the room, listening to the wood crackle in the fireplace. Maybe it was due to the new décor, but she felt unfamiliar with the room she had spent the last year in.

   “One year,” she whispered to herself as she sat on the edge of the bed.

   Come to think of it, this was the season she had gotten married. Erna tried to count the days left until their wedding anniversary, it was only a week, maybe ten days. She let out a resigned sigh. Confined to the palace as she was, she had lost track of the days completely.

   It had been a day that she had been looking forward to for so long. She made grand plans to celebrate with Bjorn, hoping that he would not be too busy to be able to spend the whole day with her. She chuckled to herself, feeling childish in her expectations.

   Erna decided that she would ask Mrs Fitz for the exact date in the morning. Bjorn would probably not take the anniversary seriously, but it was her duty as his wife to celebrate all the special days as a family.

   As she looked about the unfamiliar room, her eyes caught on two crystal glasses sat on the side and memories of their first night together surfaced, before quickly being swallowed by the murky depths of her mind again.

   She knew that as his wife, she was expected to provide pleasure to her husband in the bedroom. Perhaps that was her most important role, but she wondered how long she was going to be able to keep Bjorn’s interest.

   With sleepy eyes and foggy mind, Erna checked the clock on the mantle, it was nearly time for Bjorn’s return.

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

“Should I kill him?” Bjorn muttered. “Declare war by beheading him and send it back to Lars. After that, you and father can take care of it.” Bjorn narrowed his eyes as he examined Alexander’s empty seat.

   Leonid put down his glass of water, a sly smirk on his face. The meeting of the Princes had gone on for far longer than either of them had wanted, all due to Alexander Hartford not wanting to leave. He stuck around like a bad smell.

   He seemed so concerned with his sister’s comfort, about how she was going to be able to live the rest of her life with such a tarnished reputation. After giving voice to his thoughts, he broke down into tears. He wanted to appeal to Bjorn’s understanding, but was ultimately futile. How could he appeal for sympathy from a man incapable of sympathy?

   “How’s that sound Leonid?” Bjorn’s crooked smile felt like a shark like. “I’ll pay for the war.” Bjorn’s annoyance was palpable.

   “If you’re going to pay for it, then maybe you would also like to consider the breach of international treaties, diplomatic isolation and reparations.” Leonid said with a serious frown, throwing the joke back at Bjorn. “Now that he’s drunk enough, he’ll give up almost immediately.”

   “I think the Crown Prince underestimates the Hartfords,” Bjorn said, lighting a cigar.

   Even though Lechen had not broken any treaty or pact, the book had still been published in their lands, making them responsible for the secret getting out. Therefore, it was up to them to make the situation right.

   This was the argument the Lars delegation, led by Prince Alexander, put forward. It was understandable and was similar to what everyone else was saying. The idea was to find an agreeable compromise between two seemingly impossible situations.

   The Lars delegation likely decided to broach the situation with Bjorn, seeing as he was at the heart of it all. Many had thought that Bjorn would return to the Crown Prince position and it wasn’t an entirely wrong assumption.

   “Still, shouldn’t Lars have a plan in place to save face?” Leonid said, deep in thought.

   “Why are you asking me that?” Bjorn answered through a plume of cigar smoke. “The Crown Prince’s duties are carried out by the Crown Prince.”

   “Bjorn.”

   “I don’t have so much time on my hands that I can go about doing other people’s work,” Bjorn said, swirling a half empty glass of brandy.

   Just as Leonid was about to bring up a topic of discussion he had been hesitant about, Alexander finally returned with the aid of an attendant. As Bjorn suspected, the Prince was not ready to concede the matter just yet.

   “The price of my Grand Dukeship is to become a partner to that idiot drunkard, Leo,” Bjorn whispered as Alexander returned to his seat. “The rest is on your will.”

   Bjorn sent a glance to an attendant waiting at the side of the room. The now empty bottle of Brandy was replaced with a fresh bottle.

   “So, draw up the plan you want.”

   Bjorn checked his watch once more and filled his glass from the fresh Brandy. Prince Alexander, who had finally sat down, was already rambling on about Gladys. His love for his sister brought him to tears.

   Bjorn filled his drink with a seemingly gentle smile, all the while, looking like he was listening to Alexander intently. It was way past time for him to leave and return to Erna.

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

Erna roused from her sleep and realised that it was past midnight. Bjorn had still not returned. She slowly sat up and neither felt sad, or disappointed.

   Though she didn’t know the details, she assumed Bjorn’s meeting with Prince Alexander must have been a serious one if he was still at the palace. She felt a sense of relief that she was not going to have to perform her wifely duties tonight.

   She considered going back to sleep, but with it being early morning, maybe Bjorn would be returning soon. The Prince’s flower must be ready to bloom beautifully.

   Erna sighed and began© to straighten out her dishevelled hair and ribbons. She tidied up her crumpled pyjamas and when she went to close up the front of the gown, she stopped at her stomach.

   The reality that she was no longer carrying a child scratched at her heart. Gradually her mind became clear.

   When she finally came out of her drugged sleep, all traces of the child had been purged from the palace under Bjorn’s orders. Bjorn never once mentioned the miscarriage or the child again, like it had never happened in the first place.

   She knew that was just how Bjorn was, maybe he thought he was being considerate in not bringing it up. Since that day, Bjorn had been performing his duties as a husband and made a great effort to move forward.

   Erna understood all of this, but she still couldn’t understand why. Why did it have to happen like this?

   She was surprised to hear herself crying and feel the warmth of the tears streaming down her cheeks. The unfamiliar room became blurred.

   Erna struggled to shake the feeling of not being okay. The more she tried to fight off the tears, which only deepened her sorrow. She got out of bed to look for a handkerchief, but collapsed onto the floor as soon as her feet touched the ground.

   She acted like she was okay, even though she wasn’t. Memories flooded her mind of her first night with Bjorn, which had been scary and painful. The lonely morning that followed.  The countless days that followed, filled with hatred because she wasn’t Princess Gladys and her husband, who didn’t seem to care. She waited, got tired of waiting and expected to get hurt at any moment. Yet, despite all this, she still found herself falling in love with Bjorn.

   The only reason she was okay was because she had Bjorn. So, she tried to love him, knowing that she could. Loving Bjorn felt natural and easy for her, but she felt like she forgot how to breathe.

   Erna had to admit to herself now, she could no longer love Bjorn and the next chapter of their marriage did not exist.

   She wondered what she should do when Bjorn came home. She knew that she could no longer be a good wife, or the pretty flower that he had once seen her to be. Tears fell from her cheek and landed on the back of her hand.

   The flower that had once bloomed out of love was now withering away. Erna knew she was not okay.

   The life of Bjorn and the Grand Duchess had become an unbearable wound that threatened to destroy her. She no longer loved him and she could no longer smile for him. They had no child, so why was she still here?

   Erna couldn’t find a reason to stay. Wiping her tears away, she stumbled to her feet.

   Do you know how much Bjorn was beloved as a Crown Prince?

   Erna knew the answer Princess Gladys had asked her. She understood that Bjorn, who was much beloved by all of Lechen, was a brilliant person. She even wondered if he might take up the crown again. It would be better for Bjorn if he didn’t stay married to her.

   My dear baby, please make Annette happy too.

   Erna’s tears stopped as she thought about her Grandmother. Erna thought she had to endure so much for her Grandmother’s sake, but she was no longer sure she could be happy here any more. They were now just each other’s misfortune.

   Erna loosened her hair as she accepted that fact. The soft pink ribbon fell to the floor, quickly followed by Erna’s gown.

   Her debt to Bjorn had been paid off over the last year, being his trophy and shield. She couldn’t continue living like this any longer.

   Erna opened her eyes and threw off her nightgown for the last time. The flicker of the fireplace illuminated her pale body in deep shades of orange. She turned and for the last time, opened the door.

   The bedroom, where the flowers had fallen, was now silent as a tomb.