The Problematic Prince - Side Story 1 - A Flower Has Bloomed

The spring sun cascaded into the room through the net curtains and onto the bed. Bjorn narrowed his eyes, staring on the gently swaying shadow of the curtains. He could recognise the patterns on the lace as a flower, but what kind of flower was anyone’s guess.

Erna would know, she was the one that had embroidered all the flowers on the curtains for the spring season and it was the best part of the room. She had passionately talked and proudly boasted about it in bed the previous night.

A maid had come in after a gentle knock to see if the couple were ready for breakfast. Seeing the sunlight spill out onto the bed, the maid went and closed the curtains. Bjorn nodded his thanks.

“Breakfast in the garden,” he whispered, so as not to disturb Erna. “In an hour or so.”

The maid left and the room became serene again. The wind blew in off the Abit River and Bjorn’s eyes followed the movement of the curtains, observing the dancing shadows of lace, the cream coloured ribbons on the antler trophy, two pairs of slippers placed next to each other, and….Erna.

Bjorn looked at the time, ten minutes until the fountains would be turned on. He looked down at his wife. Erna wanted to see the first streams of water and he had promised to wake her, but she was sound asleep. It seems she was feeling the effects of their excessive drinking last night.

Bjorn decided not to wake her up and snuggled in closer to her. Even when he brushed the hair from her cheek, she didn’t stir. She looked peaceful and serene.

“Erna,” he called her name.

Memories of spring last year came to his mind, she had overslept and missed the fountain then, too. That morning, for some reason, Bjorn had woken up exceptionally early.

The feelings he had experienced on that day were the same as he felt now, the only difference being that he knew the feeling now.

Bjorn took in Erna’s intricate sculpted beauty. Everything about her finely crafted features, from her porcelain skin, the delicate shadows of her eyelashes, her button nose, dimpled cheeks and perfectly formed lips was a sight to behold and she was all his.

‘She’s mine’ ~The gentle sunlight filtered through the lace curtains, casting a soft glow on his face. ‘My wife, Erna.’

His fingers traced a path along her soft cheek, paused at the slender nape of her neck. He could feel her steady pulse, and it dispelled the lingering memories of the winter nightmare.

Bjorn slowly looked back over his shoulder at the clock once more. Five minutes. It was time to awaken the sleeping deer.

“Erna,” Bjorn said a little louder than before. He pressed in against her soft body. She nestled into him as he did so.

He hated to disturb her, especially since her warmth was so inviting and comfortable. The scene brought back memories, reminiscent of the morning from last year when the first streams of the fountain glistened, and the soothing warmth of the spring sun embraced him. Unbeknownst to him, memories that he had forgotten suddenly resurfaced, leaving a lingering gaze in his eyes.

“Wake up, Erna.” Bjorn tapped Erna’s nose playfully. “If you don’t, you will miss the fountain.”

Bjorn’s fingers gently meandered around Erna’s cheeks. As she stirred and turned, Erna slowly opened her eyes. Bjorn watched her with a smile as her blue eyes, framed by a line of dark lashes, looked up at him.

“The fountain?” Erna mumbled dreamily.

Bjorn laughed as Erna sat bolt upright. The pool of sunlight made her naked skin glow. The crimson marks from the previous night adorned her body, It was like a blooming flower buds on a watered branch. She was like a divine being, his one, true goddess, an all powerful deity of beauty and love and he worshipped her, even though she was a crazy deer.

Bjorn helped Erna hastily climb out of bed and despite the lingering affects of the alcohol, she threw on a dressing gown and rushed out onto the balcony. Her neat little slippers remained behind. They were smaller than Bjorn’s hand.

With a sigh, Bjorn less than gracefully rolled out of bed and picked up the slippers, following after the barefoot goddess.

“Bjorn, come on,” Erna called into the room. No one would have guessed she was the one that had nearly overslept.

It was one of those mornings where he felt he could accomplish anything. With wide strides, he went out onto the balcony. Erna’s eyes went wide when she saw what he was waving in his hands. She hadn’t noticed she was barefoot.

Deciding against teasing her any further, Bjorn meekly placed the slippers onto her feet. Her fidgety toes slipped into the soft fabric of the slippers and she let out a soft laugh.

Erna quickly brushed her hair and adjusted the straps of her gown. Bjorn stood beside her and together, they looked out across the gardens of Schuber Palace. Before long, the fountain erupted into life. Erna burst into childlike laughter when the spraying water up into the sky and casting a faint rainbow in the morning sunlight.

“We need to do this every year,” Erna said, not taking her eyes from the fountain. “I think it should be one of our traditions.”

‘Tradition..’

Bjorn whispered the word like he was rolling a boiled sweet around his mouth. He must have recalled that little detail through the drunken haze of last night, when Erna also spoke about traditions, with a seriousness on her face that did not match the lewd things she was doing with her hands.

“As you wish, Erna,” Bjorn said. “It would be perfect if the eve became part of the tradition too.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

Erna was caught off guard. The lingering taste of bittersweet Buford wine and the caress of the gentle night breeze, the daring kiss that had initiated everything, the sound of Bjorn’s laughter and the refreshing warmth of their skin touching. All her memories of last night were almost too flawless and left Erna flush with embarrassment.

“Well, my wife seems to remember only half of what went on last night,” Bjorn said, letting out a pleasant laugh. “I guess the rest belongs with all the other unremembered memories.”

Contrary to his mischievous smirk, Bjorn extended a hand as only an elegant Prince could, as if he was asking Erna to dance. Erna suddenly remembered her Grandmother’s teachings, that the devil entices with the most beautiful face.

“Perhaps,” Erna said, pretending she hadn’t just won over him and took his hand.

The two of them stood on the balcony, holding hands tightly and looked at the sparkling water under the morning sun, up until the canal filled and channelled out into the Abit River.

It was their second spring together.

It was the start of a fairly satisfying tradition.

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

“Are you okay with this?” Bjorn’s voice called out from amidst the rustling of delicate paper.

Erna was nibbling on a small piece of pickled fruit, turned to him with wide, curious eyes. Tilting her head slightly, the artificial flowers adorning her hat swayed gently as she moved.

“The trip,” Bjorn said, pointing to a book at the end of the table. It was a travel book that Erna carried like it was a part of her.

“Tell me if there is anything you don’t agree with.” Bjorn folded up the newspaper he had been reading and leaned back against his chair. “If you don’t speak up, I won’t know how you feel.”

They originally planned a trip turned into a diplomatic tour, which was supposed to have been the Crown Prince’s job, but Leonid suddenly declared his inability to conduct the mission, so now it fell onto the Ducal Couple.

Bjorn was shocked by the sudden turn of events from the one of them that was always responsible. Bjorn could not refuse the opportunity to go in Leonids place. The exact reason for Leonid’s inability was never brought to light, but Bjorn assumed that such a decision could only have come from something very serious.

“Well,” Erna said, staring at Bjorn with deep eyes. “Since we have to leave in two days, do we really have much of a choice?”

“I can arrange any number of things, right up to the last minute.”

“Really?”

“We can send Christian in place of Leonid and we can go on our own trip.”

Erna looked at Bjorn, who sported a shameless smile. “Are you serious? You would entrust the delegation to Prince Christian, who is still just a young boy?”

“He’s seventeen, plenty old enough.”

“Is that so? Wow, great alternative.” Erna smiled like an innocent girl and nodded. The wind carried the scent of Apple Blossom.

“But no, I am actually really looking forward to this tour.” Erna looked over at the travel book, which had been opened from time to time when Erna got a flash of inspiration.

They were destined to visit one of Lechen’s allies, Lorca, located in the far south. The primary objective of the trip was to participate in the ceremony of the King’s 50th year on the throne and further strengthen the amicable ties between the two nations.

Although it was disappointing that their honeymoon had to be postponed once more, Erna accepted reality. Once the tour was done, they would have some time to themselves, besides, Erna held a genuine fondness for Lorca.

Lorca was well known for its stunning coastal areas and ever blooming desert. Travel books depicted Lorcan streets and architecture, and Erna was eager to see it for herself. She envisioned strolling through the streets and the countryside with Bjorn. She was determined to accept this twist of fate and find enjoyment in it.

“I’m fine, really, I have already given it much thought. I’m prepared and confident that we will do well.” Erna looked at Bjorn with a straight face, her head still ached from the hangover, but she maintained her dignity.

“Wow, you’re such a great Grand Duchess,” Bjorn said.

“And a good wife, don’t forget that,” Erna said. Bjorn laughed.

Erna composed herself, adjusting her hat and smoothing out her dress. She opened up her travel booklet like nothing had happened. Serenity enveloped the breakfast table as the pair went about their meal.

Bjorn rested his head in his hand, having loosened his tie and looked at the sky. The sunlight filtering in through the blossoming branches of an apple tree illuminated his face.

The sky was full of meandering clouds of dispersed cotton finery. A gentle breeze made the branches and the flowers sway, and the whispering babble of the fountain reached his ears. Naturally, his attention was drawn back to Erna. Their eyes met, catching her off guard and she smiled at him.

The flowers were in bloom.

Spring had arrived.