Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty Two

Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty Two
Alexander

Silence.

Thick, trembling silence, like the air had turned into glass around us, too fragile to breathe through.

The crowd outside still roared, distant but thunderous. It bled through the walls, pressed against the windows, vibrating through the very floor beneath our feet.

I couldn’t move.

I couldn’t speak.

My heart pounded in my throat, and for a second, I thought I might faint. I blinked, slow and disbelieving, my gaze fixed on the sea of people outside the palace gates.

“Are you seeing this?” I whispered.

Leo squeezed my hand, steady and warm. “I’m seeing it,” he said, voice low. “I think the whole damn country is.”

I didn’t answer right away. My throat had tightened around something sharp and unfamiliar—something that felt like hope, but made my chest ache. I had never expected to be loved so loudly. So publicly. I had spent my life imagining locked doors, whispered judgments, cold glares from the other side of the glass.

But this?

This was thunder.

This was color and light and life, surging through the walls of a palace that had never felt like home until now. For a moment, I couldn’t even feel the floor beneath my feet. Only his presence. The warmth of it grounding me. The noise outside wrapping around my spine like armor.

I turned my head slowly, searching Leo’s face—the beautiful face of a wild angel. The sun through the windows lit his cheekbones like gold. His lips were slightly parted. His eyes—focused, bright, burning with disbelief and something else. Pride.

And I realized, as he looked at me like I was everything, that this was what safety felt like. Not silence. Not secrecy. But this. A hand in mine. A world outside refusing to stay quiet.

Behind us, the king hadn’t moved.

Neither had Karl.

The silence inside the office was its own kind of roar.

Karl stepped closer, eyes locked on the crowd, his face unreadable. Then, with a soft, nearly imperceptible breath, he murmured, “They’re here for you, son.”

That word hit harder than the cheers.

Son.

He didn’t say it often. He barely said it at all. But when he did—

“Karl,” I breathed, blinking back the sudden sting in my eyes. I turned to him, and he met my gaze with something I couldn’t name.

Longing.

Grief.

Love.

Maybe all of it, all at once.

“I never thought this would happen,” I admitted. “I thought they’d hate me.”

He nodded toward the window. “Seems they’re louder than hate.”

I let out a shaky laugh and looked down at my hand still clasped in Leo’s.

Warm. Unshaken.

Always there.

I turned to the king.

He was pale now. No longer thunderous, no longer roaring. Just… staring. At us. At them. At everything slipping out of his control.

“Your Majesty,” I said, steadying my voice. “We wanted to inform you before we made anything official, and now you’ve been informed.”

“Official?” he repeated, like the word was poison.

I nodded. “We’re going public. Today. Not in secret. Not as gossip. As truth.”

He stepped forward. “You’re making a mistake.”

Leo straightened beside me. “You said that last time.”

The king ignored him. “You think they cheer now, but wait. Let the dust settle. Let the headlines twist. The people will turn on you. You will be hated, judged, condemned. Don’t dare do this to yourself. Or the crown.”

My fingers curled tighter around Leo’s.

“With respect, I’m not doing this to the crown. I’m doing it for the crown.”

His eyes narrowed.

“I want to rule with honesty,” I continued. “With dignity. If the people can love me for who I am, not who I pretend to be—then maybe, for the first time in generations, this monarchy might be worthy of them.”

His lip curled. “And if they don’t?”

Leo answered first. “Then they weren’t worthy of him.”

The king turned away.

I didn’t wait for another word. I turned to Leo and nodded.

“Let’s go outside.”

We walked together, out of that office, past guards and staff who froze as we passed.

Each hallway echoed with the chant from beyond the walls.

Closer.

Louder.

We passed the portraits of ancestors whose gazes seemed to follow us, their painted eyes forever cast in judgment. But I didn’t look away.

I held my head higher.

There was nothing left to fear.

The main doors were open.

Sunlight streamed in like a spotlight, like the day itself had rolled out a red carpet.

Outside, the palace steps led down to a scene I never imagined I’d witness in this lifetime.

Flags. So many flags. Waving like waves in a storm. Rainbow flags. Swedish flags. Italian flags. Signs with our names. Hearts. Crowns.

A girl no older than ten held a sign that said, "Let Princes Love."

A man with greying hair wore a pride cape and wiped his eyes.

A woman blew kisses from behind the fence.

There were people in suits, in jeans, in full drag. A group of teens held a sign that read, "We grew up with him. Let him grow up with love."

I reached for Leo’s hand again. He didn’t hesitate.

We stepped outside.

The sound that erupted nearly knocked me back.

A roar of applause, of joy, of yes.

Flashes popped. Cameras clicked. Reporters shouted. But above it all was love. Raw and real.

I looked at Leo, and he looked at me.

And then I leaned in and kissed him.

Not for the cameras.

Not for the crown.

For us.

The world watched. The walls didn’t fall. The palace didn’t crumble.

And maybe for the first time since I was born, I didn’t feel like a prince living someone else’s life.

I felt like me.

And the world didn’t turn away.

They turned toward.

Karl stood in the doorway behind us. I glanced back and saw him give a rare, rare smile.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. A message from Leo’s mother lit up the screen.

The streets outside our home are full. They’re chanting your names.

Looks like it’s time for a new monarchy.

I turned back to the crowd. Let my chest rise with pride. And whispered to Leo:

“This was not the end of a scandal. This is the beginning of a reign. Ours.”