The Problematic Prince

  Dear Bjorn,

   I am sorry for leaving in such a manner, I know its wrong, but I couldn’t stay another moment. I wont dare ask for your understanding because I know I can never be forgiven.

   Bjorn, I believe that our marriage has reached its end. I no longer have the confidence to remain a simple little flower. I can no longer laugh as much as I used to. It has become too painful and difficult to continue on as your wife.

  Bjorn set the letter aside and lit a cigar. After taking a deep drag and exhaling the smoke, he let out a laugh. Even after reading the letter several times over, it still struck him as absurd. He thought he had been doing so well and as soon as he let his guard down, he gets bit in the neck like this.

   Thank you for all the time we spent together.

   Even though the marriage you had envisioned was not the same as the one I had wanted, you’ve been wonderful to me. You showered me with so many fine gifts and blessings, but in the end, I know that I have caused you nothing but hard. I fell short of being a good wife.

   I wanted to see this through, to fulfil my responsibilities, but I realise that it will only lead to more suffering for all of us. You do not need me as a trophy wife, or a shield, and I do not wish to continue being a wife to a husband that I no longer love.

  A husband I no longer love. Bjorn couldn’t help but laugh at how the letter sounded like some whiny little child, pouting about not getting their own way. Was love really why she was doing this? Was it all because of love?

While reading the letter, a rush of memories flooded his mind from the moment when he discovered that Erna had vanished.

‘Find her. Erna…Quickly, search for my wife!”

   He remembered the first time he had woken to find Erna missing. All he could think about was finding her. He woke every servant and ordered them to find her. How stupid he had been, acting like the world had collapsed.

   Bjorn berated himself for his foolish behaviour, acting as though the world was going to end. The sudden shock felt akin to being doused with icy water, instantly dissipating the alcohol’s effects and making his heart race erratically. Gasping for breath, he found himself inundated by a torrent of irrational and foreboding thoughts, rendering it impossible for him to remain still.

Erna.

The name echoed in his thoughts, constricting his throat with each recurrence. His anxiety threatened to consume him, potentially driving him to madness and unleashing chaos upon the house, or even the entire city of Schuber, had Mrs. Fitz not appeared with the letter in hand.

Pausing for a breather, Bjorn lit a cigar, its smoke curling into the air as he contemplated before returning his attention to the letter.

   I owe you a great deal, but I think its best to end things now, rather than incur more debt by continuing a marriage that has lost meaning.

   I wish I could have given you a properly goodbye, but I can’t endure it any longer, so I am leaving like this. You’ll need time to organise your thoughts.

   Thank you so much for everything you have done for me and I would like to deeply apologise once more for not being able to reciprocate your kindness and generosity. I have left my bank book, along with all its savings to pay the debt I owe you for investing in me.

I’m heading back to Buford now and when you are ready, we can do our best to say goodbye properly.

Erna 

   The letter from the debtor who vanished into the night with a neatly written signature at its bottom.

   Erna.

   Bjorn stared at the signature at the bottom of the letter, as if mocking him. He wondered if she had left the letter and disappeared, so that he would go looking for her and fall to his knees, confessing his undying love for her. Was this to make everyone feel sorry for Erna Dniester, who had spent a year living with the Problematic Prince?

   Other than her ridiculous cookie jar, she had taken some of her old clothes that she had brought with her when they got married. It was nothing more burdensome than stuff someone would need to travel with.

 Erna.

   How distant had their marriage become?

Did she really not love him any more, and where did she learn this tiresome trick?

   Bjorn sat in silence for a long time, lost in his thoughts. He eventually tossed the letter aside and rang the service bell. A servant arrived in quick fashion. Bjorn gave him some simple instructions; Close the curtains, meals in the afternoon, come when the bell rings and make sure the fireplace doesn’t overheat.

   He then left the servant standing in the room and went to the bathroom. He laughed aloud as he closed the door, there was nothing more to be said or done.

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

   “I have a fortnight.”

   “That’s really short, I have a month.”

   “I can’t live like this any more, I only have a week.”

   The break room where the servants gathered was a buzz of noise and activity. The only question on peoples lips was “when will the Grand Duchess return?” News of her night time escape spread all over the palace, but thanks to the efforts of Mrs Fitz, was prevented from spreading further.

   After Prince Bjorn caused chaos through the mansion, he fell asleep like nothing have happened. Mrs Fitz gathered everyone together and reminded them of the price for spreading palace business.

   “If you want to make a fuss inside the palace, that’s fine, but if these rumours happen to leak beyond the palace walls, be prepared to face the consequences.”

   The old woman managed to calm everyone down with her measured and disciplined tone. She was generally tolerant, but she was ruthless with anyone who crossed the line, something she either picked up from Prince Bjorn, or taught him.

   At first glance, her words might have seemed jovial, there was no mistaking the threat laced within them.

   “Her Highness has gone to her Grandmothers house in the countryside to recuperate, if I hear anything but this fact, then there will be no second chances.”

   “Shall we take bets?”

   The bets ranged from a week, a month and even a year. It was surprising how quickly the general staff bought in. It wasn’t anything new to them, they placed bets on anything and everything.

   Lisa, who sat in the corner, looking like a puppy that’s lost its master, watched the whole thing unfold with a stunned expression on her face. It felt as if the end was near.

   “Why is she being like that?” One servant asked, noticing Lisa pouting in the corner.

   “Leave her be, she’s always like that.”

   “Lisa, what about you?” The collector of the money asked her.

   Lisa just glared daggers at the servant, who knew better than to press the issue and finished collecting up the rest of the money. The most popular bets were for the next full moon, or the one after that.

   Just as everything started to calm down, the service bell rang and everyone froze, staring at it like it was accusing them of being insensitive. It rang again, the sonorous tone of a hungry wolf.

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

The day’s ordeal commenced with a seemingly innocuous event – the curtain.

A maid zealously opened up all the blackout curtains in the bedroom, casting the bright, midday sun directly onto Bjorn’s face as he sat up in bed. He didn’t say anything to the maid, he simply glared at her. Realising her mistake, she closed all the curtains again.

   The Prince showed no signs of relenting, indicating that she was not fit for the task. His well shaped brow was crooked and made him look like an angry wolf.

Half! Half!

   After setting down the morning paper and some tea, the head maid, Karen, tutted at the young maid and went around to open the curtains halfway. She carefully adjusted them so that only a slither of sunlight splashed across the bed.

   Ever since the Grand Duchess fled the palace, Bjorn had been in a foul mood and he took that mood out on the staff. His constant irritation only seemed to worsen with each passing day. What made things worse was that it was their first anniversary.

   A lot of the servants took the opportunity to go on vacation and take some time off, but there was a very slim limit to how many could escape the palace. The others were left to walk a very slim tight rope.

   Fortunately, once the prince was done with his tea and reading the newspaper, he went into the bathroom without showing any more irritations. The servants had passed the first hurdle, but there was still the rest of the day to go.

   “When is the Grand Duchess coming back? I think I’m going to develop neurosis if I keep working like this,” the young maid asked, but Karen didn’t reply. “I miss Her Highness.”

   Everyone agreed with the sentiment. They all longed for the good old days, when Her Highness was still around. 

The harrowing experience served as a poignant lesson, one derived from enduring the relentless torment of a bereaved wolf who had lost his mate.