§ § § -- June 25, 2001

In the wake of repeated thanks, many hugs and handshakes, and effusive good wishes and goodbyes, the party slowly broke up and their guests started cramming themselves back into the vehicles in which they'd arrived. Grady, telling Roarke to stay a little longer, offered to give rides to anyone who needed them. By nine everyone had left for home, leaving Christian, Leslie and Roarke surveying the gifts, boxes and discarded wrapping paper scattered around the floor. "Oh, goody, here comes the fun part," said Leslie jokingly. "Cleanup time."

"Did someone give us a garbage barrel, by any chance?" Christian kidded and grinned at their laughter. "Just thought I'd ask. Maybe we'd better start by putting away that leftover food before it spoils. It should keep us going until we can finally make that trip to the grocery that we keep talking about."

"If you two will take care of that, I'll dispose of the wrappings for you," Roarke said. "After that I think I had better return home for the evening. It seems to me that you two have made an excellent start in your new home."

Leslie nodded, following Christian to the kitchen. "Maureen had asked me if Christian might appreciate a party for his birthday, especially if we happened to be in here by then, and I told her to go ahead. But she never so much as hinted that she was throwing the housewarming in along with it. She couldn't have known we were going to be moving in today, and I have to give her a lot of credit."

"I think some luck was involved as well," Christian said. "I would have—" The phone rang just then, rudely cutting him off. "What on earth…?"

Leslie cast him a glance over her shoulder. "Would you get that, my love?" she asked. "I've got an armful here."

Christian paused just long enough to see the truth of this, grinned at the four trays she was trying to balance in her arms, and picked up the receiver. "Enstad residence." He fell silent; after about five seconds his eyes went huge and he let out a sharp exclamation in jordiska that brought Roarke in from the living room and made Leslie turn around to stare at him in alarm. "Va' sade du då? Vent nu, långsammere, jag forstår inget du säger…" His voice trailed off and he just stood gaping into space; Leslie, the trays in her arms forgotten, watched with increasing worry. Roarke, seeing one slipping, managed to distract her long enough to help her get them in the refrigerator. Their movements caught Christian's eye and, as Roarke closed the refrigerator door, he extended an arm to Leslie. She immediately went into his embrace, staring anxiously on and wrapping both arms around him while he huddled her close and went on listening. Finally he asked a question in jordiska and shook his head at whatever answer he got.

Leslie looked at Roarke, who waited in solemn silence, and bit her lip. "I wish I could understand the language," she said softly. "It doesn't sound like good news, though."

"No, I believe you're right, my child," Roarke agreed with concern. "We'll merely have to wait for Christian to tell us."

A minute or so later Christian gave what sounded like reluctant assent and ended the call, drawing Leslie fully into his embrace. "That was Anna-Kristina," he said.

"I figured it might be, partly because you were speaking jordiska…but what would she be calling here for?" Leslie asked. "It's bad news, my love, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Christian said through a long sigh. "It's Arnulf: Anna-Kristina says he had a heart attack last night and is in the hospital now, in critical condition."

"Oh my God," said Leslie softly, shocked.

Roarke crossed the room to them and regarded Christian with penetrating dark eyes, as if assessing him. "Christian," he said after a moment, "if I am intruding, please say so; but I suspect your emotions are extremely complicated in regard to this, and I think it best if you talk them out. Did Anna-Kristina inform you of the prognosis?"

"Well, from what I understand, it doesn't look very good," Christian said, looking up with a deer-in-the-headlights expression. "Mr. Roarke, my brother might very well die, and I'm ashamed to admit that I don't even know how I should feel about it."

He seemed surprised when Roarke nodded slowly. "I see," he said.

"Do you?" Christian wondered, without rancor. "I know I've complained in the past about Arnulf's longstanding habit of controlling my life. This has gone on far longer than he has been king, actually. My father had much the same tendency, and when he developed Alzheimer's disease and could no longer function, Arnulf apparently decided it was his responsibility to continue the tradition. When Johanna died, I moved out of the castle in the hope that it would make a statement to them that I wanted to live my own life, free of their suffocating rein. It was lost on both of them, unfortunately; in fact, if anything, it merely intensified their efforts. It was a never-ending battle, with my father and then my brother on one side and me on the other. And as I'm sure both you and Leslie can imagine, I built up a great deal of resentment over the years."

"Which has turned into something dangerously resembling dislike, if not outright hatred," Roarke added quietly. "Am I correct?"

Christian lowered his head and tightened his hold on Leslie. "Yes," he confessed in a nearly inaudible voice, after a long pause. Leslie rested her head on his shoulder and hugged him more securely.

"I don't presume to judge you, Christian," Roarke said gently. "Your feelings in light of the circumstances are understandable, and whether you realize it or not, I do understand them. But you seem unusually tormented…may I ask why?"

"Because Anna-Kristina tells me that Arnulf has been insisting on seeing and speaking with me, whenever he's conscious," Christian said. "And you see, Mr. Roarke, I'm afraid I can find very little to say to him, what with the emotional barriers that have been built up over all those years." He finally looked at Leslie, who returned his gaze in a supportive silence. "She says the entire family believes I should make all haste to Lilla Jordsö, and no matter how I feel about it, they're right. I really should. But I won't go without you."

"Of course not," Leslie said. "It's all right, Christian, I'll be right there with you."

Roarke nodded. "As you should be, child. Do what you must to make the arrangements, and I'll see to it that you have seats on tomorrow morning's first charter. In the meantime, both of you, get as much sleep as you can. You'll have to be up early: the plane will depart at exactly seven o'clock. Let me know if there is anything else I can do."

Leslie, seeing Christian swallow visibly and look aside, asked, "Father, would you mind very much making flight reservations for us, all the way there? I don't think Christian's up to the effort, and…" She shrugged pleadingly.

"Of course," Roarke said and smiled for the first time, squeezing her shoulder. "I'll take care of everything. Try to get him to talk to you, Leslie, all right?"

She nodded. "I will. Thank you, Father."

"You're welcome, both of you. I am terribly sorry that your birthday has ended on such a tragic note, Christian, but do confide in Leslie. I've spent many years reminding her to air her own feelings, and I advise the same for you." Roarke waited until Christian, still looking away and now silent, nodded acknowledgement, then brushed back Leslie's hair. "As I said, try to get some sleep. I'll see you both in the morning."

In the silence that dropped after his departure, Leslie studied Christian, whose face had become a studiously blank mask. "Christian, my love, please, tell me what you're thinking," she pleaded softly. "You're starting to scare me."

"I don't know what to think," Christian admitted, meeting her gaze at last. "I don't mean to frighten you, my darling. I just…well, you see, my primary emotion at the moment is shame. I can't seem to find enough brotherly love to feel worried for Arnulf." He winced and looked away again. "Such a shock, isn't it?"

"No," said Leslie, bringing his gaze back with a start. He stared at her in amazement, and she smiled faintly. "You forget, I felt the same about Michael, only much worse." Her smile grew reluctant and self-mocking. "At least you have some shame over your emotional conflict. I didn't even have that."

Christian swallowed again, then hugged her hard; Leslie could feel him trembling. "I did forget. How stupid of me. Then you'll understand. First things first, my Rose—let's finish putting the food away, and then we'll go up to bed and I'll try to make some sense of what I'm feeling." He drew back enough to regard her with gratitude and caress her cheek with one finger. "I love you, my darling…"

"I love you too, always," Leslie said and kissed him softly. "Come on, let's finish."

They made short work of clearing the kitchen, then doused the lights and found their way upstairs, only to realize the bed was still unmade. Laughing at themselves, they went through four boxes before they found the sheets and two more before unearthing the pillows and the comforter set that Christian had shipped over. Together they made the bed, pushed boxes out of the way for later unpacking, then changed into nightwear and brushed their teeth side by side in the spacious bathroom.

Christian finished first, spat out his toothpaste and rinsed, then grinned at her in the mirror. "You look adorable with a toothbrush sticking out of your mouth," he teased.

Playfully Leslie narrowed her eyes at him and growled low in her throat, and he laughed. "I'll be waiting for you in the bed," he said and left her alone.

A few minutes later she emerged, putting out the light and dodging some more boxes on her way to the bed. "It'll be nice to get all this stuff put away," she remarked, climbing into the bed beside Christian, who had had time to drop back into his pensive mood. "Oh, my love, come over here. Tell me, please."

Christian shut off the lamp on his side of the bed and turned to her, gathering her close with an urgency that communicated itself to her in his persistent trembling. "I've been thinking…maybe it goes back to my very birth."

"What? How do you mean?" Leslie asked, perplexed.

"I wasn't supposed to be born at all," Christian said starkly, making her gasp and stare at him in the moonlight filtering through the skylight over the bed. "It's true. I was a late-marriage surprise for my parents. You see, after Arnulf was born, they aimed for a girl next, and got Carl Johan before finally being rewarded with Anna-Laura. And when she came along, they meant to stop having children. Then, a few months after her fourth birthday, they were shocked to find themselves expecting a fourth child they'd never intended to conceive. The others were reasonably close in age, but by the time I was born, Anna-Laura was five, Carl Johan eight and Arnulf ten. Not such great differences, perhaps, but there was enough of a gap that it was pretty clear that I was an unintended afterthought."

Leslie stared at him in horror, tears in her eyes. "My God, Christian, that's so awful. Did they allow you to grow up believing that? That's horrible!" She hugged him with all her strength, unable to imagine life without him and shying away from the very idea. "Christian, my love, the last thing you are is an afterthought. You're important in so many lives, but most of all in mine. I can't stand to think of this world and my life without you in it." She drew back and cradled his face in her hands, searching his bleak expression. "I love you so much, Christian—it's impossible for me to grasp the idea of you not existing."

Christian focused on her and his look softened. "Don't cry, my Leslie Rose," he said gently, smiling slightly. "I can live with it. I think it explains my father's behavior towards me as I grew up—constantly trying to discipline me, as if I were completely uncontrollable." He sighed softly and rested his head against hers, slowly caressing her back. "You'll remember I told you I was incorrigible as a small child. I have a couple of hazy memories of my grandfather—King Lukas VI, who died just before I turned four. He…I think maybe he spoiled me a bit. I wasn't like my siblings, who bowed to authority with little question. I must have had a rebellious streak in me, and I seem to remember that he encouraged it. When he died, I was just old enough that it had taken root, and ever after, my father was more stern with me than the others. I guess Arnulf and he were of one mind. I remember constantly thinking to myself that those two must share a brain, since they always seemed to have the same thoughts and opinions in regard to me and the way I should behave."

"What about your mother?" Leslie asked. "You've never talked about her."

"I don't think Mother knew what to do with me," Christian said and chuckled unexpectedly. "Here she had her two well-behaved and respectful sons, and her sweet, loving, cherished daughter—and then she had this little hellion of a boy, asking why he had to do this and that all the time. But I knew she loved me. When I managed to get myself in too much trouble, or had too many painful bruises and cuts, she always got me out, bandaged me up and held me. She exercised far less discipline on me than my father did, and since he loved her, she got away with it. I'm sure that's how I managed to turn out the way I did—if not for her, I wouldn't have been the local media's 'happy prince', and I could never have learned to relate to others. And I know for certain that it was her influence on me that allowed me to feel deeply. Yet I never fell in love before I met you, do you know that?"

Once more her head came sharply back and she stared at him. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," Christian assured her. "Mother taught me to love, but Father taught me to be reserved with it, purely through their respective actions. I imagine I was waiting for someone who was worth the effort of loving, who would accept me for myself and not for what I could bring them, or give them, or do for them." He rested his forehead against hers and threaded her hair through his fingers. "You were the only one who ever did that, my precious Leslie Rose, and for that alone, I love you so very much."

Her tears finally overflowed and she murmured in a shaky, fervent whisper, "I love you, Christian…" Then she kissed him, and for a long time after that their only communication was through their lovemaking.

§ § § -- June 26, 2001

Leslie woke before dawn to see Christian lying wide awake beside her, staring in the general direction of the French doors that opened out onto the deck off their bedroom. His expression was hard to decipher. When she lifted her head, he turned to her and smiled at her, filling her with relief. "Do you hear that?" he asked softly.

"What?" she queried, shifting towards him and laying her head on his shoulder.

"That noise," he said. "It sounds like some sort of bird. Listen, there it is again."

Leslie grinned at the first two notes. "Oh, that's just the night crier. Wow, it sounds like that one must have a nest in one of our trees. I've never heard one that close before."

"Herregud," murmured Christian uneasily. "It sounds…depressed. You know what I mean? Especially the final note that seems to shudder at the end of its call."

She lifted her head again and stared worriedly at him. "Christian, my love, are you going to be all right? You're really scaring me. I'd do anything for you, you know that, but I need you to talk to me. Please tell me what you're feeling."

"I still have that shame in me," he admitted, closing his eyes and resting his right arm over them. "Shame because I have a secret wish that Arnulf will get the fright of his life out of this experience. Anger at him, too, that must have been with me for so long that I stopped noticing it anymore." He lifted his arm to give her an apologetic look. "And there I was last month, preaching to you about releasing your anger over what Michael Hamilton did to you and your mother and sisters. I suppose I'll be having crow for breakfast."

Leslie giggled and grasped his wrist, maneuvering it behind her till she'd draped his arm over her shoulder. "No, I'll find you something a little more nutritious. They were good words, my love. It's just that I guess it's your turn to start listening to them." She frowned a little. "If you want my honest opinion, I think Arnulf owes you at least some explanations and a massive apology. You said Anna-Kristina told you that he keeps asking to see you?"

Christian stilled a moment, glancing away with this reminder, then looking back at Leslie. "That's right, she did, now that I remember. Maybe he got that scare I'm hoping for." He and Leslie studied each other, she with a slight smile and he with a faint hope in his eyes, before he sighed. "And I guess the only way to find out is to make that beastly-long trip to Lilla Jordsö and see the man."

"Afraid so, my darling," Leslie agreed, her smile blooming fully. She stroked his cheek with the backs of her fingers. "Don't worry, I'll be there beside you all the way. Nobody messes with my beloved husband—not even his bossy big brother."

Christian burst out laughing, and Leslie joined in with relief. "Knowing you're on my side is going to make this far easier for me," he said. "Well, let's get going, then."

They got up, made the bed and then found themselves forced to empty a few boxes in order to get dressed and pack suitcases for the trip. It was almost six by the time they made their way downstairs and had a little breakfast, sitting in the living room and watching the morning news on the television set they'd bought together the previous Thursday evening. They exchanged rueful looks when Arnulf's heart attack turned out to be one of the prominent stories of the day. "I guess that means we're going to be recognized again, all the way over there," Christian grumbled. "I wish I could somehow go back to being the anonymous prince with his quiet little life. What happened to change that?"

"You fell in love with me and then got prevented from marrying me, and it was broadcast around the world," Leslie summarized whimsically. "I have to tell you, with you being the real looker in your family, it's amazing you weren't thrown into the spotlight long before this. You should have had the attention that Prince William gets."

"I got that in my teens and early twenties in Lilla Jordsö," Christian told her, "but not really outside the country. Don't give me that skeptical look, Leslie Enstad. Tell me right now: had you ever heard of me before I came here to set up the island's website?"

He started to grin when she was forced to think back, trying to come up with some recollection of reading something about him or seeing a picture of him in a magazine somewhere. When one did occur to her and she sat up straight in triumph, he blinked, still grinning. "I saw a magazine article about your wedding to Johanna," she announced.

"Is that so?" Christian asked, enormously amused. "Where and when?"

"I was twelve and Mom had me and the twins out food shopping," Leslie said with an exaggeratedly smug look. "Some celebrity-obsessed magazine had a picture of you and Johanna on the cover, all decked out in wedding finery, and Kristy saw it in the checkout line and thought Johanna looked like a princess. At which point Kelly called her a dum-dum and said that if she knew how to read the caption, she'd see that Johanna was a princess." Once more Christian exploded with laughter.

"What was your reaction?" he asked through his chuckles, lifting his coffee mug.

"I can't remember," said Leslie mischievously, which made Christian set the mug back down with a clank and half rise as if to attack. Playfully Leslie shrank back, squeaking, "I take it back, I promise!"

"You'd better!" Christian growled at her, his eyes twinkling. "Come on, tell me!"

She giggled and relented. "I was never one of those swooning teenybopper types, but I do recall thinking you were really cute. I also wondered why you weren't smiling."

"Ah, I see," said Christian, settling back into his spot on the sofa and reaching for his mug again. "Needless to say, you know the reason now, I'm sure."

Leslie nodded and moved closer to him, patting his thigh as he draped his arm across the back of the sofa behind her. "You were nineteen then, weren't you? Did your brothers and sister marry that young?"

"No, Arnulf and Kristina were married in 1970, when he was 22. Carl Johan and Amalia were married the following year, in something of a scandal since she was almost halfway through her pregnancy with Gerhard at the time. It was unusual for any royal to get publicly caught in such a situation, and it threw Carl Johan into the spotlight for the better part of the year. You probably wouldn't remember that…you were what, six then? Anna-Laura waited until she was 24, the year before she bore Cecilia." He frowned. "I was also the only one who was married off; they were all allowed to choose their spouses, even Carl Johan in the midst of his scandal. Back then he was considered the best-looking one in the family; I was a little young yet to start getting that sort of attention."

"I'd love to see pictures of you growing up," Leslie mused a little wistfully. "I always wondered if royalty kept scrapbooks and photo albums the way ordinary people do."

"Sure we do," Christian said impishly. "We just never let anyone know, because then we'd be forced to go public with our naked baby pictures and those awful school portraits that show the braces and all the acne." Laughing, they watched a little more news before shutting down the set and rising to get ready to leave.

Roarke came to pick them up and noticed Christian's lighter mood; he smiled at them as they got into the car. "It's good to see you both looking so optimistic," he said.

"Mostly it's a distraction," Christian said, "but a welcome one for all that. We were joking around a bit while we watched the news. Arnulf's heart attack seems to be one of the bigger stories of the moment."

"That's characteristic of celebrity news," Roarke said. "Before you begin to fret about being spotted by the media, let me reassure you that you'll be seated first class on all your flights, and will be met and escorted between gates each time you must change planes. It should help to ease your travel."

Christian smiled with gratitude. "We both truly appreciate that, Mr. Roarke," he said. "I have my mobile phone with me so that I can notify Carl Johan when we land in London and let him know to meet us at the airport near Sundborg. The local media will be worse than the rest of the world combined, if I'm not mistaken."