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ungaroyals · 3 years

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An Unfortunate Romance

Prince Wilhelm has gained a reputation more suitable for a teen heartthrob than the Prince of Sweden. Constantly pictured with what the press has coined his 'flavour of the week,' he's gained an unfavourable reputation with the tabloids. Being front-page news isn't exactly the type of attention the crown is looking for. The obvious plan to get Prince Wilhelm's image back on track is to find him a stable and respectable boyfriend. And who better than Simon Eriksson? Hillerska's golden boy with the voice of an angel. Too bad Wilhelm and Simon can't stand each other.

Okay, so this fic is the baby of an entire group chat and 100% would not be happening if it weren't for them. I love and appreciate you guys, so I can't not credit you. Without further ado, @edvinroyals @royalhive @allexarrow @thisisour-lastdance @toffeelemon @vquaileggs @violapinkbaby @emmalupin-blog @perfectlyunbiasedobservation @tooindecisivetopickaurl , (otherwise known as the YR Fanfic Association) this one is for you and your beautiful minds 🧡

Note: This wip is going to be kept pretty casual. I'm not going to stick to a regular posting schedule because I want to be able to have some fun with it. So just a fair warning, the updates will be sporadic.

Ch2

Chapter One

Rating: Teen and up

Words: 5559

Read on ao3

"You're joking," Wilhelm has to physically lift his jaw from the floor, trying his best to hold back the sarcastic comment rolling in the back of his mouth.

His mother straightens in her chair, smoothing out her already pristine skirt, "I'm not joking," his mother says with finality, "all involved parties have agreed to the arrangement, and contracts have been signed."

"There's no way Simon Eriksson would agree to this," Wilhelm shouts, gesturing broadly in hopes that his point might actually get across. "First off because it's stupid, and second because he hates me," Wilhelm tries, his mind spinning at the idea of Simon agreeing to help Wilhelm, let alone the crown.

"There will be no further discussion on the matter," his mother speaks diplomatically, with that look in her eyes that she usually saves for difficult conversations with reporters or the public. She barely uses it on Wilhelm, which is how he knows that she is, in fact, being serious.

"Alice will cover the details on your way back to Hillerska this morning." She begins to ready herself by sitting up a little straighter and sticking her nose higher in the air, so she can actually look down on him. "And Wilhelm," she pauses, waiting for his eyes to meet hers, which they reluctantly do. "I don't want any more trouble." She glares pointedly, clearly referring to his most recent escapades.

"Yes," Wilhelm mumbles with defeat as she stands from her chair and waltzes out of the room, her entourage following close behind as the massive doors are drawn shut behind her.

Wilhelm looks hopelessly across the room at Erik, who rises from the century-old chair he'd been watching the whole thing unfold from. Wilhelm feels a slight hint of betrayal when he sees his brother chuckling to himself, and maybe a little at Wilhelm.

"I tried to warn you," Erik says with a hint of sympathy but mostly amusement. Wilhelms frowns as his brother makes his way closer from across the overly sized room.

"There's no way in hell Simon actually agreed to this." Wilhelm groans, slumping back in his chair as irritation begins to brew in his mind, "They're already forcing me to go to Hillerska, and now they want to determine who I date? Will it ever end?" There's a little more desperation in Wilhelm's voice than he'd like, but he can't help it.

Since he was little, there hasn't been a single aspect of Wilhelm's life that he actually felt he had control of. Then, he got old enough to date, and well, his mother couldn't really say much about that, could she? Especially when he came out to the country through a tasteful Instagram post that Erik secretly helped him put together, without clearing it with their Public Relations team. He'd had his phone taken away for a month after that. Someone else posted photos from his account like everything was normal. Like he wasn’t being held captive in his room for trying to be himself. Sure, his 'room' included a home theatre and more books than he could read in a lifetime, but the point still stands.

Queen Katherine had to learn to roll with the punches when it came to her youngest son. Because hey, it's the 21st century and being the queen who is 'one with the times' makes approval ratings go up, and of course, that's the important part. Wilhelm should have known his mother could manage to spin even his sexuality into some sort of PR stunt. Maybe he hoped she'd have a few more motherly morals than that. But no, protecting the crown comes first.

"Hey," Erik grabs Wilhelm's attention, suddenly kneeling down in front of him. When did that happen? "It's only for a couple months. And how bad could this Simon guy be?" Erik teases, "I've seen pictures. He's cute."

"Yea, if you consider a condescending self-righteous prick to be 'cute,'" Wilhelm sarcastically glares, then sinks further into his seat, bringing his palms to cover his face and groaning theatrically.

He hears Erik chuckle, "that bad," he asks like he's trying desperately to help Wilhelm out.

Wilhelm uncovers his face, hands falling to his lap, looking his brother dead in the eyes. "The first day I met him, he practically accused our family of stealing money from the people who actually deserve it. In front of the entire class." Wilhelm emphasizes the last bit, hoping Erik will grasp how dire his situation is.

Sure, Wilhelm knew full well what Simon had said that day was more than accurate, but that didn't mean he needed to be a dick about it.

"Think of it this way," Erik stands, clapping a supportive hand on Wilhelm's shoulder, "you'll never run out of things to talk about,” he smiles encouragingly, “or argue about."

Wilhelm groans into his hands once more, "this is going to be a nightmare."

~ ~ ~ ~

Rain plasters itself across the vehicle's window as Wilhelm and Alice make their way to Hillerska that same morning. The beginning of the ride is quiet. Neither of them says much, but the closer they get to the school, the more Wilhelm can feel nerves adding to the anxiety holding in his chest. It isn't until Alice speaks that he realizes how serious this whole plan is, despite how absolutely ridiculous it is.

"Right, so we've planned yours and Simon's schedules in a way that can benefit you both," Alice begins to explain, handing Wilhelm a thin stack of papers. The first line reads Important Dates, with a list that runs through to the backside of the paper. Taking a closer look, Wilhelm can see it’s full of planned outings, Simon's birthday is along with Wilhelms, and the times for which the paparazzi will be 'anonymously' notified of their whereabouts. He assumes Simon got a copy of this as well.

"This is never going to work. Everyone in school knows we hate each other," Wilhelm interrupts Alice as she begins explaining point seven, like Wilhelm had even been listening in the first place.

"Yes," she pauses calmly. "This is why you aren't making a statement on your relationship immediately. It will be up to the both of you to naturally create the connection for peers." Alice explains smoothly, and it makes Wilhelm feel sick.

"Now your first outing is tomorrow. We want to get things going right away. You will be sent to Stockholm, dine at Etoile, and return to Hillerska before ten pm." She tells it like it's the sanest situation in the world. Like the idea of Simon and Wilhelm going on a date isn't the last thing anyone would expect from the two.

Alice continues going through Wilhelm's next six months, and he does everything he can to bite his tongue. The poor woman is just doing her job, but Wilhelm really wishes she wouldn't. The itinerary in his hands bends in his fist the closer they get to the school. When the car pulls onto the gravel drive, Wilhelm is out before she can finish going over the last few points. He hears her call after him but ignores the woman, heading straight to his room and slamming the door closed behind him.

He rips off his jacket and sucks in a quick breath like it's impossible to fill his lungs with air. He sits on the bed, leaning back against the wall and tucking his head between his knees, willing the pain in his chest to leave him the hell alone. But it doesn't. It persists into his throat, making it impossible for him to swallow, adding complicated layers to his already panicked state.

How did this happen? How did Wilhelm end up trapped in a life he never wanted. How did he go from bounds of freedom to a school he never wanted to go to? When did finally being free to love, even if only for one night, who he wants, turn into fake dating a boy who doesn't even like him?

Wilhelm thinks back to Erik's words, I tried to warn you, and he did. He warned Wilhelm every time another picture surfaced of him sucking face with a random boy, or leaving a bar –he definitely shouldn't have been at– with someone 3 years his senior. Or every time he was photographed face down on the pavement, already knowing what the next day's headlines would be. 'Problem Prince hits the streets in drunken chaos' or his personal favourite, 'Prince not so charming: An inside look on Prince Wilhelm's flavour of the week.'

Wilhelm likes to have fun. It's the only part of his life where he can let himself relax without his mother determining every factor of who he is as a person. It's not his fault that every time he goes out with a specific group of friends, he ends up with shots being poured down his throat. And he's fairly certain his mother wouldn't want to be around for that.

This is how Wilhelm ended up at Hillerska and with a fake soon-to-be boyfriend. Wilhelm agreed to go to the school but never promised his mom he would give up his friends. He didn't think she'd actually be able to do anything about that, but apparently, he'd been wrong. She's surprised him again on just how desperate she is for the people of Sweden's approval.

Wilhelm flops down on his bed, landing sideways and staring across the room. How has this become his life? And how the hell is he supposed to convince the school that he and Simon are a couple.

Somehow Wilhelm manages to shut his eyes and let sleep overcome him, trying desperately not to overthink the situation.

~ ~ ~ ~

Wilhelm has always been good at waiting. He had to be growing up the way he did. Waiting for his mother to get ready for an event, waiting for his father to finish an interview, or wasting time waiting for any other royal family member to complete whatever task was deemed more important than tucking Wilhelm in at night.

So waiting for Simon to join him in the headmistresses office, which Alice seems to have commandeered for the morning, to arrive should be a simple task. Yet, Wilhelm can't stop tapping his thumb against his armrest, and alternating this other hand between running through his hair and chewing on his nail.

Wilhelm almost jumps from his seat when the door finally does open, and the curly-haired boy comes into view. Their eyes immediately lock, and Wilhelm knows his cheeks have turned an embarrassing shade of pink, trying not to shrink away at how humiliating this is for him. Of all the people to choose, they had to pick Simon Eriksson. But of course they did. Simon Eriksson is the school's golden boy. Straight A's, lead member of the choir, and honour student. Basically, he's everything Wilhelm isn't.

"Wonderful, now that we're all here," Alice says with more enthusiasm than necessary, probably trying to lighten the mood. "Simon, why don't you take a seat," she gestures to the chair beside Wilhelm and leans back against the desk it faces. She crosses her legs in front of her, straining the fabric of her pencil skirt that hits just past her knees. It's very sensible, but then again, that seems to be a prominent trait of Alice's. Sensible.

Simon sits down without looking at Wilhelm. He shifts in his chair, backpack tucked on the floor near his feet, staring blankly up at Alice, like class has just begun and he's waiting for the lecture to start. He looks completely calm and uncaring, which for some reason, strikes an annoyed cord in Wilhelm. But he chooses to ignore it for now and tries to focus on Alice, despite her insufferable tone. Wilhelm swears the woman really is just trying to do her job.

"Now I've gone over the plan with both of you individually, but I thought it best we touch base before the ball gets rolling." She starts, "as both of you are aware, this–" she seems to struggle for the right word, "relationship," she settles on, "has been constructed with the hopes that it will correct Prince Wilhelm's public image." She explains carefully.

Simon snorts, and Wilhelm sinks into his chair.

"Now, ground rules." She gets more serious, "No touching is required. Both of you are minors, so we do not expect either of you to follow through with any physical touch," Wilhelm's face goes hot, and he's sure he sees Simon tense in his chair. "However, I am to encourage you both that selling your feelings for each other is very important in ensuring success," she emphasizes, which basically translates to, 'I won't pressure you because it's illegal. So I'm going to do it inadvertently with vague sentences.'

"You both need to start building this relationship the moment you step out of these doors. This isn't just a show for when the cameras are around. This is your life now, so act like it." She says in a polite yet stern way that Wilhelm is starting to recognize as a particular brand of Alice's. It's unnerving. "Your first date is tonight. This is the perfect opportunity for you two to get to know each other a bit better, so I suggest you take it. Now, any questions."

Wilhelm remains silent, his only question being whether they can make the next six months go by any faster. And he has a sneaking suspicion that Alice won't be too keen to actually answer that question.

Unsurprisingly Simon has something to comment on. He always does.

"My friend's football game is next Friday, and we're supposed to have a date that day," Simon explains, already sounding unimpressed. Wilhelm tries not to find it annoying how easy everything is for Simon to talk about it already. "I can't miss the game. I told her I'd be there."

"Perfect," Alice smirks and flips to a page in her day planner, writing something down, "you can take Wilhelm. It will show how close the two of you are becoming." She answers with a smile.

Wilhelm can already feel his anxiety tightening in his throat at the thought of spending a whole evening with Simon and his friends. There's no way they'll get along. Why the hell would Simon mention that? They could have worked something out between the two of them. Wilhelm makes a mental note to bring that up with Simon later.

"That's not what I–"

"Good, I'm glad that's all answered," Alice cuts Simon off before he can properly protest, "I'll be in touch throughout the week to ensure everything is going according to schedule." She stands up straight and exits the room, leaving both Simon and Wilhelm alone, sitting in silence for a second longer than Wilhelm finds comfortable.

"Well, I guess we–" Wilhelm tries to break the tension.

"–I'll see you tonight." Simon interrupts, standing from his seat, throwing his backpack over his shoulder, and storming out the room without so much as glancing in Wilhelm's direction.

Well, that could have gone better.

~ ~ ~ ~

Wilhelm shouldn't be nervous. It's a ridiculous fake date for the love of God. So why is he sweating through his gray button-down tucked into his nicest pair of dress pants? He and Simon didn't speak for the rest of the day. They didn't say a single word, even when they stood in line directly next to each other to load food onto their plates at lunch. It was like nothing had changed. Simon completely ignored that they were going on a date tonight where they most definitely will be pictured together. It was like the boy was pretending that there would be no turning back on this idiotic rouse.

Wilhelm jumps when the door of the car opens, too trapped in his head to realize he's arrived at his destination. Wilhelm steps out of the car, kicking a pebble that bounces across the cracked pavement. He takes in the scene around him. Simon lives in a typical housing complex in Bjärstad. Similar houses lining each other mirroring the same colour schemes and old paths that lead to their front doors.

Wilhelm follows the one he's told is Simon's house and stops in front of the door. Taking a deep breath and running his hand through his hair, he knocks and regrets it immediately. Now there really is no turning back.

For a second, Wilhelm genuinely considers slipping out of view and letting Simon think the knock was some kids' feeble attempt at Nicky-Nicky-Nine-Doors. But he thinks better of it, mainly because someone is opening the door before he can give it a real go.

"You're early." Simon cuts before Wilhelm can say a proper hello. Not that he'd be able to, considering the way Simon looks. They must have provided him with a suit because there's no way in hell Simon would be caught wearing something Wilhelm can recognize by brand. Not because he can't afford it, but because Simon would probably make some ethical argument on exploitative labour that goes into making the clothes. Which would make Wilhelm feel like shit, because well, he happens to like those types of clothes.

However, Wilhelm's mind doesn't dwell on the fact for long because Simon is pushing past him, their shoulders bumping harshly. The brief contact carries a shock down Wilhelm's arm to his fingertips. He shakes the feeling away and turns around, following Simon's lead to the car.

Wilhelm tries his best to keep his eyes forward, but he can't help dropping his gaze from the spread of Simon's shoulders, fitted perfectly under his navy blazer, to the curve of his ass. Because holy hell, he's never seen Simon in a suit, especially not one that fits so well.

Wilhelm clears his throat, mind finally catching up with his body, and jogs slightly to meet Simon at the car. Before Simon can reach out to pull the door, and before Malin can try, Wilhelm grabs the handle and tugs it open for him. Simon looks at Wilhelm in a way that says he's already fed up with the whole situation.

"I can open my own doors," Simon grumbles, stepping into the car, but not before rolling his eyes.

"I'm aware," Wilhelm says under his breath, moving to the other side of the vehicle, where Malin holds the door open. He thanks her and slides in to sit next to Simon, who is looking anywhere but in Wilhelm's direction.

They ride in silence, Wilhelm very aware of Simon's presence and the two-hour car ride ahead of them. This is going to be torture, and not for the reasons Wilhelm initially thought.

Of course, he knew holding a conversation wouldn't be the strongest point of their 'relationship.' But what he didn't expect was for Simon to look so good. Head resting against his hand, leaning against the door, eyes glaring out the window. Wilhelm watches his profile become more apparent as the sun begins to set, casting a pinkish hue within the car, emphasizing the structure of Simon's jaw. Sharp enough that Wilhelm considers reaching out to trace it, certain that the definition might cut him. Not that he wants to, of course, only out of pure curiosity.

It's strange. The Simon sitting beside Wilhelm in the car looks nothing like Simon from school. His hair is neater, and his expression more stoic. Like there's a wall built higher than the day this whole arrangement was made. It's an unusual contrast to the curly-haired boy Wilhelm laid eyes on that first day of school when he heard Simon sing.

Wilhelm's not sure he likes it.

"Are you planning on staring at me all evening?" Simon turns his head, irritation evident in how he's glaring at Wilhelm, like he's the sole reason for the class divide.

"Uh–" Wilhelm stutters, embarrassment flushing over him. He hopes the glow of the setting sun is enough to mask the pink in cheeks. "I was just uh– I've never seen you..." Wilhelm pathetically gestures to the entirety of Simon, clearing nothing up and turning a deeper shade of red.

"What, in something other than second-hand clothes?" Simon snaps, and Wilhelm knows he's already fucked up, "not all of us can afford to go on a shopping spree every time we get bored with a single article of clothing."

Wilhelm tries not to flinch at Simon's defensiveness, but it's hard not to. "I was just going to say you look nice," Wilhelm mumbles, "but I guess I'll keep it to myself." He thinks he can see a flicker of something that looks like embarrassment waver over Simon's features.

"Probably best you keep a lot of things to yourself,"

They don't talk again after that, and Wilhelms collar grows increasingly tight, so he undoes the top two buttons, not missing the way Simon's eyes cast down at the newly exposed skin. He shifts in his seat and turns back to face the window.

When they arrive at the restaurant, no reporters are waiting, not yet anyway. They both exit the car, Simon apprehensive as they make their way to the vast entrance. Wilhelm wonders if Simon has been anywhere this fancy before. He wants to tell Simon it's not all that exciting and food is usually terrible, but he doesn't, unsure if Simon would take it as patronizing.

When they enter the restaurant, Wilhelm follows Simon's expressions. He hears a small gasp escape from the boy as he takes in the room. A high ceiling towers over them, with a huge chandelier threatening from above. Wilhelm wonders if people avoid this place after seeing Phantom of the Opera.

They're quickly greeted and guided through a slew of patrons enjoying their meals and up a rather theatrical set of grand stairs. They're led to a private table nearest to a large window with a view of the city. One that's surprisingly stunning, considering they're only on the second floor.

"Will this be suitable, Prince Wilhelm," the host asks, gesturing to the white-clothed table.

"It's perfect, thank you." Wilhelm smiles politely, feeling slightly uncomfortable at the formality. Usually, it doesn't bother him so much, but with Simon staring at him, it's hard not to be very aware of the special treatment he receives.

They both have their chairs pulled out for them by waiters who seem to emerge out of nowhere. Simon jumps back in his seat, glancing uncomfortably at his waiter when the man unfolds his napkin and begins to place it on Simon's lap. Wilhelm has to hold back a laugh at how Simon tears it from the poor man's hands and crumples the offending material into a ball.

"My apologies, sir,' the waiter says with a curt nod that Wilhelm can place as an attempt to cover his annoyance.

"Can I start you off with anything to drink?" The waiter asks, only looking at Wilhelm rather than Simon. Which annoys him a bit, and he's not sure why.

Wilhelm orders water and asks Simon what he would like, who unenthusiastically asks for the same.

When the waiter steps away, Simon seems to relax a bit, adjusting in his seat and lightly tossing his napkin on the place setting in front of him. Wilhelm watches as he pulls on the front of his blazer, attempting to straighten it despite it fitting perfectly already.

The server comes back with their waters and hands them their menus. There's a whole list of choices that Wilhelm knows he won't like. That's the thing with places like this, everything is extravagant and much too decadent for his liking.

Wilhelm studies Simon over his menu who's eyes roam the page as if lost in a foreign language. "Try the Soupe à l’Oignon Gratinée. It's usually quite good," Wilhelm offers, hoping he doesn't come off as pushy. But from the way Simon is looking at him, he might as well be speaking another language, which technically he is since the soup is French. "Or I could order for you if you'd like?" Wilhelm tries, attempting some form of courtesy.

"My prince charming," Simon mumbles, placing the menu down on the table above his poor distorted napkin.

Wilhelm runs a hand through his hair, the comment rubbing him the wrong way. He hates when people refer to him like that. And for some reason, hearing it come from Simon, laced with disgust, it's even worse.

Wilhelm crosses his legs under the table, and his foot accidentally collides with Simon's shin and he’s quick to apologize, but Simon completely ignores him. It takes a fair combination of circumstances to make Wilhelm frustrated, and Simon is coming dangerously close to it. The least he could do was try. Wilhelm is, so can't he?

"Why are you even doing this?" Wilhelm blurts before he can really consider what he's asking.

Simon's eyes snap up to his, looking somewhat shocked by Wilhelm's outburst. In truth, Wilhelm is surprised himself, but he's already come this far, so why not just lay everything out clearly.

"I don't get it," Wilhelm confesses, "what could you possibly gain from this?" he asks, gesturing between them.

Of course, Wilhelm knows that Simon is getting something in return for this ridiculous arrangement. Alice had been quick to ensure that Wilhelm knew Simon would be appropriately 'compensated' for his troubles. Whatever the hell that means. He thinks she might have said it to make him feel better, but in truth, it didn't. It actually made him feel a bit sick.

"Well?" Wilhelm pushes, trying to make sense of why someone so against the mere idea of Wilhelms existence would agree to spend the majority of his time with him for the next six months.

"I have my reasons," Simon crosses his arms over his chest.

"And those reasons would be?" Wilhelm gestures for Simon to continue.

Simon lets out an annoyed huff, eyes darting around the restaurant like he's making sure no one will see them, which is exactly the opposite of what they're supposed to be doing.

"Look, let's just focus on getting through the next six months, alright?" The boy snaps. "We don't need to actually get to know each other," there's a level of disdain in Simon's voice that makes Wilhelm's stomach turn to something ugly. He didn't have any farfetched illusions that he and Simon would become friends, but he thought maybe they'd at least try to be civil. Apparently, Wilhelm was wrong.

Simon adjusts his blazer again, something Wilhelm wishes he'd stop doing because it only makes Wilhelm focus on how insanely attractive Simon is. If this were normal circumstances, and Wilhelm didn't already know Simon hated him, he would definitely try to take Simon home tonight. Which would probably go terribly wrong, considering that no matter the hypothetical universe, Simon wouldn't give Wilhelm the time of day, and he's pretty sure he disapproves of Wilhelms' serial dating lifestyle,' as it is.

Wilhelm startles when their waiter comes to the table prepared to take their order. He gracefully orders the dish he’d suggested earlier for both of them. Taking a shot in the dark on if Simon will be annoyed by it, but he doesn't say anything, so Wilhelm thinks it's the right choice.

The waiter dismisses himself, leaving them to their uncomfortable silence. Wilhelm doesn't know what to say, and he's relatively sure that Simon wouldn't be very receptive if he tried. But that doesn't stop him, because well, he's curious about Simon. And if he's going to spend the next six months with a person who hates him, Wilhelm might as well know why.

"What's your problem with me anyway," Wilhelm challenges, trying to keep his voice even.

"What?" Simon looks genuinely confused.

Wilhelm takes a deep breath urging himself on, "why do you hate me? I know you're not super into the whole monarchy thing, but you don't even know me." Wilhelm says, keeping his eyes locked on Simons, hoping that the steady stare is enough to get an answer from the boy.

"Um–" Simon begins, opening his mouth then closing it like he's not even sure of his own answer. "It's not that I don't like–"

The waiter appears out of nowhere, placing both their dishes before them, saving Simon from a response. The waiter asks if they need anything else, and Wilhelm dismisses him. Eyes landing back on Simon, who's already diving into his meal.

Simon gracelessly shovels a spoonful into his mouth, closing his eyes and letting out a satisfied moan that echoes in Wilhelm's ears and carries a shiver down his spine. When Simon opens his eyes, they land on Wilhelm, paused mid-bite with parted lips, rendered speechless.

"What," Simon shrugs, oblivious to the inappropriate places he's just sent Wilhelm’s mind.

"Nothing," Wilhelm squeaks, then carefully swallows his own bite, afraid he might choke if the boy makes that noise again. Simon gives him a strange look that Wilhelm pointedly ignores for the next five minutes.

Eventually, the waiter comes to check on how they're getting on with their food. "It's delicious, thank you," Wilhelm grins at the man, who looks satisfied by the praise.

"And you, sir?" This time his attention is directed at Simon, "Ah, I see you've mistaken the Desert Spoon for your Bouillon Spoon, an easy mistake to make," the waiter supplies somewhat condescending.

Wilhelm can swear he sees Simon's confidence waver.

"Oh– uh…" Simon trails off.

Without thinking, Wilhelm places his Bouillon Spoon down and grabs the same style as Simon's. He discreetly dips it into his bowl as if it's been there the whole time. "Oh," Wilhelm grabs both their attention, "it appears I've made the same mistake as well. Thank you for bringing it to my attention." Wilhelm says with a little more courtesy than necessary, stringing his words with his own note of patronizing, but not enough to be considered rude.

"Excuse me, Prince Wilhelm," The waiter begins to apologize, clearly embarrassed by what could be perceived as correcting the Prince of Sweden. Something Wilhelm really cares little about, but for the sake of their situation, he can at least pretend to. "I didn't mean to correct you," the waiter emphasizes, digging himself a deeper grave.

"I'm sure," Wilhelm smiles dismissively, and their waiter stalks off with his tail between his legs.

Simon is quiet for a moment looking down at his bowl. Wilhelm can see him contemplating something, and he realizes what when Simon makes a point to keep using his Dessert spoon. Wilhelm smiles to himself and continues to do the same.

"You didn't have to do that," Simon mumbles, looking out the large window beside them.

"Do what," Wilhelm pretends innocence as he takes a sip of his water, looking at Simon over the glass.

"I can stand up for myself," Simon quietly says.

"I know," Wilhelm assures in a way that tells Simon he doesn't doubt it whatsoever, "but you don't have to all the time. I think it falls under fake boyfriend duties." Wilhelm thinks he sees the boy smile a bit, but he's not sure.

The rest of their dinner goes smoothly after that, and their waiter is suddenly changed to a blonde woman, which Wilhelm isn't upset by. They talk a little about the food and share a dessert, too stuffed by their entree to handle one on their own.

Simon scrapes the last of the fudge off their plate making a horrible sound. A woman two tables over glares in Simon's direction, so he makes a point to do it again. Wilhelm watches the ordeal unfold with amusement, and decides to interrupt before the woman walks over and rips the utensil from Simon's hand.

"Shall we," Wilhelm asks, peering out the window and down to the restaurants entrance, where he can already see a slew of reporters gathered, waiting for the perfect photo. Most probably hoping to catch Wilhelm in a sorted state with another stranger on his arm.

"It's not too late to back out," Wilhelm jokes, sending Simon a look that he hopes says I promise I won't be offended if you sneak out the back and leave me to the dogs.

"I don't back out of a deal," Simon gives him a tight smile, and Wilhelm's stomach twists.

"Right," Wilhelm returns with a half-smile. The deal.

They stand from their chairs and begin walking toward the grand stairs. "Don't you have to pay," Simon asks. Stopping midway down, tugging at the collar of his button-down shirt.

Wilhelms moves down a step, so he looks up at Simon, "It's already dealt with," he explains, noticing the way Simon pulls at his blazer again. Wilhelm is starting to think it might be a nervous gesture. His worries are confirmed when he follows Simon's gaze behind him at the doors where he can already see the reporters getting in position.

"You really don't have to do this," Wilhelm tells him, his voice serious.

Simon's eyes drag away from the already flashing lights that glare through the muddled glass, "I'm fine," Simon says almost robotically.

Wilhelm doesn't believe him, but when Simon steps down and tucks his arm through Wilhelms, letting him lead the way, Wilhelm plays along.

If Simon can pretend to be okay, then so can Wilhelm.

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