The Problematic Prince

“….Bastard.”

 Bjorn only realised what happened when the pain in his cheek spread searing warmth through the rest of his face. Erna slapped him hard, causing him to step back.

   “Love? You have no love to give to me in the first place.”

   Despite her anger, Erna did her best to persevere and maintain her composure. She felt like she needed to reaffirm her situation, which was not very easy given her opponent. The fact that she was not at all surprised by Bjorn’s outburst only added to her frustrations.

   “If you think that love is simply treating me like a pet, pampering me when it suits you, buying me expensive gifts that I never wanted and helping yourself to me whenever the desire takes you, don’t make me laugh,” Erna’s anger was palpable.

   She was no longer the trophy won over a game of cards, she was no artificial flower that would never wilt and fade away. She was the lady of the house of Baden and Erna felt obligated to hold up her grandmother’s values. To remain calm and graceful at all times, even in the middle of winter and in her pyjamas, facing her soon to be ex-husband.

   “I am a person, Bjorn.”

   Erna’s calm words seemed to erase all the memories of the past, making things as clear as ever. She realised she had begged for this man’s love and rejoiced every time he showed her a small bit of attention. The shabby woman she had developed into was no longer there.

   “I don’t need anything from you Bjorn, not your love and not your attention, so, go back to Lechen and find yourself someone that’s more willing to be your perfect bunch of artificial flowers.”

   “Are you serious?”

   Bjorn still rubbed at his reddened cheek. As the embarrassment, anger and disillusionment subsided, she was finally able to see Bjorn clearly. Her gaze shifted from his dusty shoes and crumpled clothes, to his arm, he seemed to have injured it some how.

   Erna clenched her fist and raised her eyes to his. Bjorn’s emaciated face and tousled hair, which was the worst she had ever seen, made him look like a completely different person.

   Erna couldn’t believe that he had come all the way from Schuber without a single attendant in tow and in such a state. The Bjorn she knew would never act in such a way. 

She hated it.

   Erna was determined to live a good life, free from Bjorn and any further pain the cruel and selfish man could cause her. She believed that this was the only way for her to move on and live her life to the fullest.

   “Yes, I’m serious, I don’t need that great love of yours any more. Don’t you understand what that means? I understand that you’ve been hurt by this and came all the way out here to try and make sense of it all, but I have been hurt too, so neither of us are at a disadvantage here. After considering everything, our marriage has been quite equitable.”

   “I hurt? Don’t get me wrong, Erna, I was curious,” Bjorn’s reaction was peculiar as he smiled.  “Well, you can hit me all you want” he whispered, gently combing his fingers through his hair, while the moonlight cast a shimmering glow in the depths of his fatigued ashen eyes. “Very well, then. Let’s get divorce.” 

   Bjorn’s rasping voice cut through the stillness of the night like a knife of ice. Though he had given Erna the answer she was looking for, she remained silent.

   Bjorn turned away from Erna, leaving the woman behind in disgust. Erna stood in the doorway, her posture erect and straight backed until she heard the gate clack shut.

   Bjorn strode away from Baden Street without so much as a second thought and never looked back once. He climbed into the stagecoach that was waiting down the end of the road and Erna could hear the hooves and wheels trundle along the cobbled road through the frozen winter night. 

She stood there until she could no longer hear the carriage.

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

The wolf, which had been chronically irritable since its mate had left him, finally calmed down. 

This was quite the dramatic change in Prince Bjorn, since his return after being missing for two days. Even the servants, who had grown tense in recent weeks, calmed down as they accepted the new reality. Things were still not the same as they had once been.

   “This is enough to make one’s blood run cold,” Karen muttered to herself.

   Mrs Fitz closed the book she had been reading and took her spectacles from the end of her nose. Karen paced restlessly before Mrs Fitz’s desk.

   “The Prince…he must have gone to visit Her Highness, right?” Karen bit her lip.

   “Well, I can’t rush to conclusions about such things, that the Prince doesn’t mention,” it was already an open secret among the servants of the Grand Duke’s residence, but Mrs Fitz did not entertain such things.

   The palace was thrown into chaos when the Prince didn’t return one night. The coachman who had delivered the inebriated Bjorn to the train station, faced criticism for two whole days and had Bjorn had turned up a day later, then the whole matter would have been brought to the attention of the police.

   Mrs Fitz had a hunch that Bjorn had run off to Buford. Having raised the young man up from a young boy, his actions were always easy to predict for the old nanny.

   “If he did indeed visit Baden Street, then why did he return alone? Is it possible that Her Highness, the Grand Duchess has decided not to return at all? Prince Bjorn has just regained his reputation, if he gets another divorce because of this…”

   “Karen,” Mrs. Fitz snapped the hysterical woman’s name out. Karen froze in surprise.

   “I’m sorry, I’m just so worried about the Prince…”

   “I understand your feelings, but in times like these, you have to keep your cool, and your words.”

   “Yes,” Karen replied, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “By the way, Mrs Fitz, if Her Highness is not coming back because of the ridicule in the face of Princess Gladys…how about I express my apology to her on behalf of the employees?”

   “Apology?”

   Mrs Fitz lowered her eyes and pondered. She was well aware that the world inside the palace walls was never a welcoming place for the Grand Duchess. Though everyone was careful around her, it was impossible to monitor all the words that circulated in every corner of such a large place.

   It was clear that the Grand Duchess needed to be re-educated in order to assume the mantle of a true lady once more. Punishing the servants was not going to help her position. Mrs Fitz regretted the strict teaching method she had adopted in the past. In hindsight, she wished she had considered things from Erna’s perspective a bit more.

   Mrs Fitz had made judgements based on the needs of the Prince, which was her biggest mistake as Erna was unable to establish her own authority and no matter how the servants were treated, they would not change their views, they were deeply loyal to the Prince and because of that loyalty, it would be hard for the Grand Duchess to assert her own.

   “The only person that should be apologising to her is me,” Mrs Fitz said with a sigh and rose from her seat. “Let’s consider that another time, however, for the time being, ensure the palace is not cluttered.”

   “Yes, Mrs. Fitz,” Karen said and left the room.

   Mrs Fitz watched Karen leave and then moved over to the window to draw back the curtains. The crisp winter landscape greeted her.

   Bjorn had finally returned earlier that morning. He washed up and went straight to sleep without saying a word to anyone. After a full day’s rest, he was back to his usual routine. He appeared healthy enough and no longer indulged in long drinking sessions at the social club. He seemed even more dangerous to her like this, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask after the Grand Duchess.

   Lost in thought for a long while, Mrs Fitz eventually left her office with the mail she had left on her desk.

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

The maids opened up the curtains in the Grand Dukes suite, flooding the space with vibrant morning light. Bjorn sat at his desk to drink his morning tea and read the newspaper. Through the window, he could make out the Abit River frozen over.

   When the maids left and the room was plunged into silence, Bjorn subconsciously reached for a cigar then hesitated. He slammed the lid closed without taking one. He had not smoked since his return from Buford, nor had he drunk a drop of alcohol.

   Bjorn lowered his gaze, then picked up the letter he had neatly tucked under the cigar box. It began friendly enough, “Dear Bjorn” and was written by a woman who had once loved him more than anything in the world.

   Bjorn read through the letter, even though he had already memorised every sentence upon the paper. He had lost count of the number of times he had read through the letter.

   It was a love letter, though the word love had not been written explicitly anywhere in the letter. Every word and every space between them was imbued with the essence of love.

   But now that love is over.

   As he pondered on the love hidden within the letter, Bjorn read the signature at the bottom, “your wife, Erna Dniester.” As he whispered her name, there came a knock.

   “Your Highness, it’s Mrs Fitz.”

   Bjorn quickly stuffed the letter back into its envelope and placed it back under the cigar box, like a child hiding some contraband.

   “Yes, come in.”

   Mrs Fitz came in and stood at the other end of the desk. She reported on inner workers at Schuber Palace, while Bjorn stared out the window. The sight of the snow drifts settling on the frozen river reminded Bjorn of the night when the first snows started to fall.

   He had lost control and allowed himself to be swept away by his emotions. Bjorn had only realised this on the train ride back. The fact that he could not stop the divorce only made him feel even more helpless.

   “Your Highness?” Mrs Fitz’s voice brought Bjorn back to reality.

   “I’ve been to Buford,” Bjorn said. “Erna wants a divorce.”