Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty Seven
Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty Seven
Alexander
After election night, things… settled.
Not all at once. Not magically. Not like a fairytale snapping into its final page. But day by day, piece by piece, life began to take on a rhythm again. And for the first time in a very long time, I found myself enjoying it.
Italy kept her president.
I kept my love.
And for a while, the world let us just be.
Returning to Sweden after that whirlwind month was strange at first. I half-expected to be dragged into scandal, scorned, rejected—but instead, I was welcomed. Hesitantly at first. Then more openly, more eagerly, as the weeks passed and I began to show up.
Not just as a face in a crown.
But as a man who cared.
I threw myself into work. Not just ceremonial tasks, but real work—reading reports, meeting with advisors, asking questions that had too long gone unanswered. I traveled across the country, not in gilded processions but with a notepad in hand, listening to the needs of the people who had stood by me when I came out. Who had cheered for Leo and me in the streets.
I visited youth centers and shelters. I helped open new clinics in underserved provinces. I began joining Dah Birch Foundation initiatives with Sofía, who—now free from the pressure of a forced engagement—had become a true friend.
“I like this version of us better,” she told me once, as we toured an orphanage together. “No expectations. Just shared purpose.”
And she was right. Working together gave our bond a new clarity. She was brilliant, kind, determined—and we both knew exactly who we were now, which made everything easier.
She called me her brother in mischief.
I called her my compass.
We made a good team.
But my team—my home—was still Leo.
Every weekend, without fail, we met in Italy. At the presidential estate. Or on the Amalfi coast. Or hidden away in some countryside inn that smelled like lemon trees and warm stone.
Sometimes we met mid-week too. When missing each other became unbearable.
We worked late into the night, sprawled across couches and desks, laptops open, minds buzzing. Leo had begun to seriously explore a future in policy—focused on environmental reform and sustainable infrastructure. Where I studied welfare programs, he studied ecosystems. Where I dreamed of better education, he dreamed of cleaner oceans and protected forests.
We dreamed together.
“You know,” he told me one night, curled up with a pencil behind his ear and glasses sliding down his nose, “we’re literally the perfect couple.”
I snorted. “Says who?”
“Says me, obviously.” He rolled over to straddle my lap and grinned. “You take care of the people. I take care of the planet. You kiss babies in hospitals, I kiss CEOs into giving us climate grants.”
“Oh, is that how you work your charm now?”
“Hey, if it helps the environment, I’ll flirt with an oil baron—but only under heavy supervision.”
I laughed so hard I dropped my pen.
He pressed a kiss to my nose. “Admit it. You love me.”
“I do.”
“And we’re building a better world?”
“Together.”
“Exactly.” He winked. “Now get back to work, Your Highness. We’ve got policies to write and a planet to save.”
We never rushed things. Not after everything we’d been through.
We still lived in separate countries—me in Sweden, Leo in Italy—but the distance didn’t feel like a separation anymore. It felt like a balance.
We had made peace with waiting.
We knew our time would come.
And in the meantime, we were laying the foundation for the future we wanted—not just for ourselves, but for everyone we could reach. Quietly. Consistently. Side by side.
Which is why, when the summons arrived from my father that morning…
Everything stopped.
I knew something was wrong the moment I saw the letter.
It lay on the silver tray outside my room—no envelope, just folded parchment, sealed with the royal insignia. My name written in my father’s sharp, slanted hand.
Prince Alexander.
Nothing else.
No greeting. No preamble. Just that.
I stood in the doorway in my robe, staring at it like it might bite.
“Sir?” one of the guards asked behind me. “Should I…?”
I shook my head and picked it up myself.
The message inside was as brief as it was chilling:
“A meeting is to be held at 10:00 in the Council Room. Attendance is mandatory.
—King Edvard.”
No explanation. No context. No mention of who would be there—just that cold, formal command.
My stomach tightened.
An hour later, I was dressed in full suit and tie, pacing the length of my chambers like I was twenty again. Nervous. Unsettled. Waiting for Karl to appear and tell me it was all nonsense.
But Karl didn’t come.
He hadn’t been invited.
Not to this meeting.
Not since the King had made it clear—“He has no place in royal governance.”
They hadn’t spoken directly since Orsania. And I had a feeling that wasn’t a coincidence.
I grabbed my phone.
Leo answered on the second ring. “Hey, my heart. What’s wrong?”
I sat on the edge of my desk, pressing my palm to my forehead. “He summoned the council.”
A pause. “Who?”
“My father.”
“Karl? What for, babe?”
I paused for a second to let my head catch up. This was something that I hadn't gotten used to yet and was getting me confused more than once lately.
“Sorry, I meant the king. He formally called for us all. This morning. No warning. Just… a summons. Everyone’s expected. My mother. Every adviser. The whole court. Except Karl.”
“What the hell…”
“I think he’s planning something. I don’t know what, but I—I have a really bad feeling. What if he’s preparing to retaliate? Against us. Against you.”
Leo's voice came gently. “You’re safe now, Alex. You’re not a child anymore, and he’s not untouchable.”
“But what if he tries to reverse things? Strip my title? Undo the reforms?”
“You think the world would allow him to do that now?”
“I think… I think he’s desperate enough to try.”
Leo was silent for a moment. Then he whispered softly. “Do you want me to come?”
I closed my eyes.
Yes. God, yes.
But I shook my head. “Not yet. Not unless—if anything happens, I’ll call.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
His voice softened. “You’ll be okay. Whatever this is… you’re not facing it alone.”
I wanted to believe him.