A Sovereign Affair

KRISTIAN

“Tell me, storebror, is there a steel pole lodged in your vertebrae where your spine should be?”

I glance up at the mirror, at my younger sister’s reflection, as she grins mischievously back at me. She’s lying on my bed, kicking her legs up in the air lazily as if she does not have a single care in the world.

I know I will regret humoring her when I ask, “What do you mean?”

She shrugs. “You just sit so straight all the time. Your posture is impeccable; that can’t be natural.”

I roll my eyes, returning to my laptop screen. “It would be natural for you, too, if you paid attention during your etiquette lessons.”

She snorts—a sound that should not be coming out of the princess of Sweden. “I like my spine bendy, thank you very much.”

I roll my eyes again. “If you don’t mind, Elise, I’m trying to work on my speech.”

She lets out a dramatic groan and pushes off my bed. She trudges towards me, and I fight the urge to grimace. If you saw my sister randomly without context, you were more likely to give her a few kronor out of pity than to accord her the respect a princess deserves.

Even now, after sending her handmaidens away like she does every morning, her long blonde curls are in a wild, tangled mess down her shoulders. It’s a little chilly today, so she’s wearing a grossly oversized hoodie that drops halfway down her thighs and black leggings with actual holes in both knees.

I’ve asked Elise to stay away from our mother on days like this because the poor woman already shares the weight of a country on her shoulders; she doesn’t need the high blood pressure her younger daughter gives her.

My sister puts her arms around my desk chair and slumps forward, resting her chin on my head. Then she starts to read: “Sweden, as a nation, is committed to taking steps towards environmental sustainability, but we know that the solutions we seek cannot be achieved in isolation. They require collaboration, innovation, and, most importantly, the collective will of young people like—ughhhhh.” Elise groans exaggeratedly, and I sigh.

“What now?”

“It’s boring,” she says. “It’s so boring, storebror. I’m falling asleep on my feet.”

I close the laptop. “No one asked you to read it. In fact, you can go and leave me in peace; I need to focus.”

“That’s all you ever do: focus, focus, focus.” She moves from behind me and, facing me, hops on my desk.

Her actions make me wince, but I say nothing, used to her characteristic lack of regard for…well, everything.

“The International Youth Environmental Forum is in little more than a week, Elise. We’ve been planning this for months and—”

“We?” She scoffs. “There’s like, what? Ten NGOs and international organizations involved.” She cocks her head to the side. “Which one do you represent, Prinsen?”

I shoot her a look. “I represent the Swedish Government, Prinsessan. As the Crown Prince, I’m practically the one leading the forum, you know this.”

She smirks, her eyes twinkling. “Oh, I know; I just love to tease.”

I sigh, opening my laptop again. “Get out, Elise.”

She rolls her eyes. “Do you realize that if I didn’t come see you every day, you would have no source of light or joy in your life?”

“Oh no,” I deadpan. “However did I survive before you were born?”

She shrugs. “Beats me; must have been the worst three years of your life.”

I roll my eyes.

“Oh, Prins Kristian,” she sighs, leaning forward to pat my hair fondly. “Lev lite!”

I scrunch my nose up at her. “‘Live a little?’ Really?”

“What? You certainly don’t live.”

“What am I doing right now?”

“Existing! And barely.” She leans forward. “When was the last time you left the palace?”

“Yesterday.”

She scoffs. “To the forum venue, surrounded by twenty guards and aides. That’s not what I meant.”

I eye my sister—my wild, untameable sister. “What do you mean?”

“I mean out into the city.” Her voice takes on a wistful quality as she leans back on her hands and smiles. “Stockholm is beautiful in the summer, especially at night. You could go to Södermalm; it’s gorgeous there. The music, the scenery, the people…”

“And how do you know all of this?”

Elise grins and winks.

I groan. “Elise—”

“You know the west wing where the fire happened last year?”

I raise a brow. “Yes?”

“Well, the dumbwaiters still work. If you take one, it’ll lead down to the old servant’s kitchen. The back door leads towards the back gate, where no one will see you leave. You could drive if you want, and there also may or may not be bicycles nearby you could ride.” She wiggles her brows, her blue eyes dancing with mirth.

“You can’t be serious.”

She shrugs and unzips her hoodie, revealing a grey long-sleeved shirt underneath.

“Just one night, Prins Hermit. You’re only twenty-one, and you have more work hours under your belt than most middle-aged men in the corporate world. You’ve been working all day; go see what your age mates do for fun.”

“None of my age mates are the Crown Prince of Sweden.”

She nods. “And they’re much better off.”

I sigh. “Get out, Elise.”

She hops off the desk and tosses the hoodie at me. “I doubt you have any clothes that don’t scream royalty.”

And before she leaves my room, she leans forward, pecks my cheek, and whispers, “Lev lite, storebror.”

When the door closes behind her, I sigh, running my hand down my face. I turn back to my laptop, forcing myself to refocus on my speech.

I reread the words I’ve already typed, trying to get my focus back, but a small voice in the back of my mind that sounds an awful lot like my sister whines, “Boring, boring, boring!”

I groan, making a mental note to ban Elise from my room forever.

My seat suddenly feels uncomfortable, my laptop screen too bright—and I have the strange overwhelming urge to slouch.

I glance down at the hoodie in my lap. Elise is right; of all the many clothes in my vast closet, not a single one could make me blend in on the streets of Stockholm.

A city I’ve lived in my whole life and have never visited without guards or aides, especially not at night.

I wonder what it would be like. What does Elise see when she sneaks out?

“Don’t do it, Kristian,” I mutter to myself.

A chime runs through the palace: eight o’clock.

I grip the thick hoodie as my laptop screen goes blank from inactivity.

“Stay in this seat and finish your speech,” I whisper even as I stand.

Just one night, Elise’s voice whispers. It’ll be fun.

“This better be worth it,” I mumble as I throw on my sister’s hoodie and head for the west wing of the palace.

Storebror (Swedish)- Older brother

Lev lite (Swedish)- Live a little

Prins/ Prinsen (Swedish)- Prince

Prinsessan (Swedish)- Princess