🌹🌹The Swedish Prince 🌹🌹
🌸🌸(ROYAL r0m@nç£)🌸🌸
🌹EPILOGUE🌹
SIX MONTHS LATER
Maggie’s POV❤️
Gunfire erupts beside me, my ears blasted by the deafening sound. I scream but I can ba-rely hear it, everything around me is being shaken up and my br@in feels like I have rocks rolling around inside it.
I am beyond terrified.
“Get down!” someone yells and I immediately drop to my knees, covering the back of my n£¢k with my hands. A flash ban-g grenade goes off and I’m blinded.
“fv¢k!” I scream. “Make it st©p!”
“Sorry Miss but you’re going to nee-d to make it out of here alive,” the man dressed head-to-toe in camouflage, says to me, keeping his automatic rifle at the re-ady. “Are you able to run to safety?”
I shake my head. Hell no. I’ve lost a shoe somewhere along the way, maybe when I first escaped the kidnappers, and the stretch of gravel between here, where I’m hiding out by the side of an old, blasted building, and the military jeep that will take me to freedom looks like it will be murder on my feet.
I don’t think I have a choice though. This guy next to me looks like he’ll drag me throu-gh the gravel if he has to. Not a very nice way to treat a future princess but what can you do.
I quic-kly sl!poff my other heel – I hate that this happened while I was wearing heels, so impractical – and hesitate before tossing it behind me. They were nice shoes and I’m sure I can get another pair, but I’m still cringing at the idea of wasted money. Even being engaged to the Crown Prince of Sweden for six months doesn’t change the way I look at money.
I can tell we’re about to make a run for it when the man across from me lifts his gun and fires another round of ammunition in the air.
Totally unnecessary.
I plug my ears again. “He’s supposed to be on our side!” I yell.
“You nee-d to get immune to the sound,” the guy beside me says.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the sound!”
He stares at me, completely stone-faced. This is just a fun day on the job for him, isn’t it? Gets to rescue the princess from kidnappers and feel like a hero, all the while I’m screaming and yelling and acting like a loon.
Because, I mean, I’m sorry but if I were actually kidnapped, that’s what I would be doing.
I know they wanted me to try and make friends with the kidnappers and all but I think I just ended up annoying them. Which isn’t a bad strategy at all. Annoy them until they let you go. That kind of worked for Bette Midler in Ruthless People.
“Come on,” the guy says gruffly and takes me by the arm and ushers me across the gravel, the stones b!tt!g into my feet. A foot bath will be in order after this.
Then the gunfire erupts again, along with some more grenades and my ear drums are b!own to smithereens. Thank god I’ve kept my s-en-se of humor throu-ghout this whole ordeal, otherwise I think I might be traumatized for life. In fact, that’s what they warned me of before I took p@rt in the “terror training” and Viktor didn’t even want me to do it.
But his parents were very adamant that I do this. In this day and age, you just never know what’s going to happen, whether some crazy royal fan wants to kidnap the princess or queen or if a terrorist takes over the palace or attacks a royal event, like our upcoming wedding.
So for the last two days I’ve been p@rt of this program that they promised would give me some skills and frighten the $h!t out of me and, honestly, it has. I’ve been fake kidnapped, I’ve been dropped alone in the wilds of the Swedish North for twenty-four hours so I know how to survive if I end up there for some reason (note: bring lots of mosquito repellent – this is more important than food), I’ve had to do drills around guns and grenades and all sorts of crazy $h!t.
It’s been intense but as I’m booking it across the gravel with Mr. Serious by my side, I know the moment I get in that military jeep and am driven away, that’s the end of it. They’re driving me right back to the palace.
To my home.
“Woo hoo!” I yell as I reach the jeep just before I’m pushed, rather brusquely, into the back of the vehicle. “I made it! I’m alive! Oh god, I am alive!”
Mr. Serious exchanges a look with the other two serious military men in the back. This wasn’t p@rt of their job description.
“Hey,” I tell them. “You don’t want to know what I’d do if this were actually real. I’d probably k!ssall of you, Viktor would find out, and you’d be out of a job. So let’s at least act fake happy for me being fake happy at my fake rescue.”
In unison all three men attempt to smile.
“Yaaaay,” Mr. Serious says flatly.
The moment I’m back at the palace, Viktor is waiting for me in the foyer with a bottle of champagne in one hand and a chocolate cake in the other. He knows the way to my heart.
“My god,” he says, looking me over, putting the stuff down on the cart and stri-ding over to me with his arms out. “What did they do to you?” The shock in his eyes quic-kly turns to flames of anger and he’s getting that tick he gets along his jaw when he’s about to lose his $h!t over something.
“Calm down, I’m fine,” I tell him. “I can’t hear very well and I nee-d a footbath,” he looks down at my ba-re dusty and dirty feet, “but I’m fine.”
He’s speechless, shaking his head, that anger not dissipating. “I knew this was a mistake. You shouldn’t have gone. I have been worried sick about you these last few days. They wouldn’t even let me get any upd@t£s on how you were.”
It’s tou-ching to see Viktor so concerned. Not that he normally isn’t but we’ve both been so busy lately with the upcoming wedding that we’ve been taking each other for granted. Now, with me gone for two days and getting the wits scared out of me, it feels like this might bring us even closer.
“I told you,” I tell him. “I’m fine.” I pause looking around to see if any of the kids or Bodi are lur-k-ing and listening. “Though if you want to help me clean up, I’d be more than grateful.”
Heat flares in his eyes again, this time born of lvst and de-sire. He swallows ha-rd , practically has to loos£n his tie. “I –“
“You’re back!” April says from the t©p of the stairs before running down them.
As much as I love my sister and as much as I’m glad that she’s this happy to see me, she’s also being a bit of a royal c0ckblocker at this second.
She’s about to give me a hvg but she st©ps and looks me over. “You look like $h!t.”
“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you get kidnapped,” I tell her. I then notice that she has a purse with her. “Where are you going?”
“Out,” she says, shrugging one shoulder, back to teenage one-word answers.
“My mother is taking her, Rosemary and Thyme dress shopping” Viktor says.
“Your mother?” I repeat.
“I know,” he says. “But the ball is tomorrow night and this is the first time they’re all going to be officially expo-sed to high society.”
“I un-derstand that,” I look over at April who isn’t even listening anymore, “but your mother. That’s the p@rt that’s nutty. I can’t imagine the queen going shopping, she must have to close down the whole dep@rtment sto-re.”
He nods. “That’s exactly what she does.”
“Well, $h!t,” I say, crossing my arms. “I want to go shopping now.”
“You alre-ady have a very lovely go-wn,” he says, reaching over and picking a piece of plaster or maybe shra-pnel from my hair.
“Yeah but it’s like a childhood dream to go shopping in a dep@rtment when it’s all closed down. Didn’t you ever want to be locked in IKEA over night?”
He frowns. “To do what?”
“I don’t know, bounce on the be-ds?”
He just grins at me like I’m the most adorable little sprite. “You are far too cute for words. English words, anyway. I have many Swedish ones.”
“You guys are gross,” April mumbles just as Rosemary and Thyme start coming down the stairs.
“Maggie!” Rosemary says as the twins run up to me and give me a hvg. “You’re alive.”
“ba-rely,” Thyme comments as she looks me over. I do a double take with her. Instead of her usual overboard goth eyeliner, her face has been scru-bbe-d clean and her black hair is pu-ll-ed high into a smooth t©p not. She’s still all in black but she looks pres£ntable. She looks like a soon to be twelve-year old and not the future bas-sist for a death metal band, which I know she is at heart.
“You look nice,” I tell her.
“She wants to look nice for the queen,” Rosemary says.
“We should all look nice for the queen,” I tell them and look down at myself. “Obviously I’m in no state to go shopping with you.”
“And anyway,” Viktor says, gr-abbing my hand. “The girls deserve some one-on-one bonding time with her. You’ve had a lot of that lately, yes?”
He’s so right. Even though it’s late June now and the wedding isn’t until next April, I’ve been having weekly meetings with his mother at the palace. I had never put any thought into getting married before and I have a feeling a normal wedding is super stressful as it is but a royal wedding? It’s insane how many details there are and how big it’s going to be.
Frankly, I would rather concentrate on my Swedish lessons and helping our nanny, Ingrid, with the kids, or continue going with Viktor to all the public events, than give another minute of thought to the wedding. I would like to pick the dress and see what roles my siblings can pl@yin the ceremony (I do not trust Callum to be the ringbearer, that is just a disaster waiting to happen) but other than that, I want to push all decision-ma-king to the queen.
But she really wants to include me and she’s so excited about the whole thing, that really, even with all the bonding we’ve been doing, it’s been worth it. It pains me to think that my own mother won’t be here for this and I often wonder what she’d say or do (probably “fv¢k it! Elope!”) but I’m grateful that my future mother-in-law and are getting along. It’s nice to feel like I have a motherly figure in my life again, even if she’s a motherly figure to a whole country as well.
“Girls,” Bodi strides into the foyer, “Her Majesty is waiting for you.”
April, Rosemary and Thyme all look at each other and grin nervously before following Bodi out of the room.
I breathe out a sigh of relief.
“So you mentioned a bath?” Viktor says, wagging his brows.
I reach up and run my hands over the ha-rd planes of his che-st.
Then realize my hands are dirty and are leaving trails of dust.
“Helvete,” I swear, trying to wipe it off and only ma-king it worse.
“See, swearing in Swedish is so much better,” he murmurs, leaning for a k!ss. Hisl-ips ba-rely have enough time to brush mine before the front door opens and Callum comes screaming inside.
“Maggie!” he yells and hvgs my w@!st.
I have to admit, it feels really nice to be wanted like this.
“You’re back and you smell like pee. Did you pee yourself?”
I laugh awkwardly. “I did not pee myself.”
“Callum,” his nanny Ingrid says as she steps in the door behind him and then says something to him in Swedish which I think is that’s not how we talk to your sister. Both of us are learning.
But Callum quic-kly says he’s sorry in Swedish, so maybe he knows more than I do at this point. He smiles up at me. “Did you get to fire a gun?”
“No,” I tell him, ruffling up his hair which I know annoys him so much. He squirms away from me. “But I saw guns and bombs and a whole whack of stuff that I promise you aren’t that cool in real life.”
I look up at Ingrid. “What did you guys do today?”
Ingrid is in her early forties and is pretty much the epitome of a spinster because of the drab way she dresses and her prim and proper manner but she’s kind, patient with the kids, and, luckily, not Viktor’s type. I trust Viktor completely but when it was between her and a young and pretty Australian nanny, the queen was adamant we pick Ingrid. I guess nanny affairs are a thing here.
“We went to the zoo, walked around the park,” she says in her thick accent, then gives us a wry smile. “He may have had too much ice cream. I’m sorry.”
“Never too much!” Callum yells and then takes off running into the kitchen, probably to get more ice cream. I’m just glad he didn’t see the cake.
“He’s taking the motto too seriously,” I tell Viktor. I sigh. “Well, hopefully he’ll burn it off soon.”
“I’ve got him,” she says. “You go relax, you must have had quite the weekend.”
un-derstatement of the day.
“Come on,” Viktor says, pu-lling me up the stairs. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
We go up to our room and as he draws a h0t bath for me, I get a glas-s of scotch from the bar cart and have a few sips, then get undressed and sl!pon a robe, opening it to inspect my b©dy for bruises. There are a ton of them, scratches and mosquito bites too, but overall I think I c@m£ out better than had it been an actual kidnapping, so there’s that.
“I’ll give you privacy,” Viktor says, holding the bathroom door open for me once the bath is done.
“Thank you, my prince,” I tell him, standing on my ti-p toes to k!sshim before I disappear into the bathroom. As much as I want to reconnect with him, as much fun as him washing me would be, I haven’t had a shower in days and I’m pretty dirty. Somethings are best done in pri-vate.
🔞🔞🔞🔞
When I’m finally done with the bath and I’ve had a shower, however, I’m feeling sparkling clean. I puff a shimmery, lavender-scented b©dy powder all over my skin and step out into the be-droom.
n-ked.
Viktor is waiting by the be-d.
Also n-ked.
I’m glad we both were expecting the same thing.
And as I hoped, he looks very happy to see me.
I walk over him, trying to look se-duc-tive, my dark we-t hair curling over my shoulders and brea-sts and then he’s gr-abbing me, his large hands running all over my b©dy, over my arms, my w@!st, my as-s. One hand sli-ps up into my hair, the other sli-ps between my legs and I’m alre-ady we-t.
“I’ve missed you,” he murmurs, his voice thick. “I’ve missed this.”
He reaches down and slides one f!nger inside me and it’s enough to drive me crazy. Maybe it’s all the adrenaline that’s been coursing throu-gh my b©dy these past few days, maybe it was being so far away from him, maybe I’m just realizing what a fv¢king god my fiancé is, but I’m suddenly starved for him.
And he is for me.
He picks me up, his hands nearly encircling my w@!st and practically tosses me onto the be-d where I bounce, giggling. Then he’s hovering over me and I drink in the sight of his long ba-re torso, those abs rigid, shoulder muscles straining as he bites and k!sses all the way down my b©dy, being more gentle than normal. I guess do look like a wreck.
But I no longer feel like a wreck.
I pu-ll him up to me and k!sshim, then push him back onto the be-d. Usually he’s the dominant in the be-droom but today I want to give him a taste of my own medicine.
I stro-ke his long, ha-rd c0ckand climb on to him like a wild horse and then I’m ri-ding him, my brea-sts bouncing, and I thrû-st my h!ps, his c0ckburied de-ep inside, his face staring up at me in lvst and awe, like he can’t believe I’m here and this is happening.
Then I’m on my side, my leg lifted over his h!p, and he’s driving into me, fas-ter and fas-ter, the headboard slamming loudly against the wall. Sweat drips off his b©dy and onto mine, and the room fills with the thick smell of S-x and the intoxicating sounds of my greedy m0@n s and his gr-unts and his dirty mouth as he fv¢ks me into oblivion. When I come, I’m unleashed, and I’m screaming his name, letting everything go. Every fear, every thought, every darkened p@rt of me.
I’m liquid and sunshine and stars in the night sky.
I’m his princess.
I’m his future queen.
And when he comes, he comes ha-rd and he’s swearing and gr-unting my name, and I know I make him feel like a king.
* * *
***
* * *
Tonight’s ball is being held at Drottningholm Palace.
After I flew back to Sweden in January and Viktor proposed (I’m still laughing at the “Will You Merry Me” fiasco, it almost puts my pronunciation of Chopin to shame), I had a whirlwind couple of months. There was a lot of back and forth from Stockholm to California until earlier this month because I wanted Rosemary, Thyme and April to finish their schooling for the year. Only Callum stayed with us right away since he’s young and was going to jump right into Swedish lessons with Ingrid anyway.
So Pike took care of the girls while I was living here, ma-king sure they got to school and finished and then when they were done, they flew back here. With Annette’s help he put the house up for sale and at the moment it looks like it’s almost sold. When the sale goes throu-gh, Pike gets the money and he’s going to use it to open up a garage/tattoo parlor in LA. It’s sad not having him here but I totally get why he wants to stay in California. He is going to visit often, though.
But with all that’s been going on, the kids haven’t really been introduced to Sweden in a public way. Yes, the paparazzi are still plentiful and they do follow us everywhere but I’ve noticed they’re far more cautious about approaching us now and go out of their way to keep their distance.
Tonight though, the ball is not only a chance for the kids to dress up and feel p@rt of the royal family, but it’s all for charity.
Our charity.
Over the last few months, the royal family decided to come out with the truth about Alex’s death, to not be ashamed of it. The King’s hopes were that more people will speak up about mental illness and suicide. Sweden has a surprisingly high rate that’s especially ramp@n-t in the far north, so it’s something that nee-ds to be talked about, to end the stigma. Viktor especially has become very adamant about spearheading this cause.
I’m proud of my fiancé and the King and Queen for doing the right thing and I think they’re rather proud of themselves as well. It’s creating a change that their country nee-ds.
“You look like a cake, I could just eat you all up,” Prince Magnus says to me with a salacious wi-nk. I look down at my dress. It’s gold with many petticoat layers and a bustier. It reminded me of Belle’s go-wn, which is exactly why I got it.
“You don’t look too bad either,” I tell him, snapping his bowtie against his n£¢k. “For a Norwegian.”
“What am I? Chopped herring?” Viktor says, looking between the two of us.
“It’s chopped liver,” I remind him.
“But I love liver.”
“You love herring too,” Magnus says, then looks around. “Where oh where are the drinks? I’d like to get a few in me before all the speeches start.”
The ball is un-derway and I’m standing with Viktor and Magnus off to the side. The King and Queen are about to step out with the kids and give the formal introduction to them and the event.
I look behind me to see Rosemary, Thyme, April and Callum all in a row, holding hands like they’re about to pl@yred rover. They look so nervous, it’s cute.
“You guys look great too,” I whisper to them over my shoulder, even though I’ve alre-ady told them they look amazing a hundred times. Callum in a little ¢v-mmerbund suit, the girls in long go-wns. They all literally look like royalty. The queen did good helping to pick it all out.
Callum grins and starts doing a little dance. “I’m so excited,” he squeals. “Bork bork.”
“Callum!” I can hear Ingrid admonish him from somewhere in the background.
Then Dolf Lundgren strides to the front of the area where we are gathered and addresses the crowd. “I’m plea-se to pres£nt to you His Majesty King Arvid and Her Majesty Queen Elin.”
The King and Queen, both in formal royal wear, come out to a microphone, his mother doing the graceful “queen wave” and his father nods at everyone.
The King clears his throat and speaks. “Thank you all for coming here tonight. As you know, this event is for our charity, The Prince Alexander Fund, which we created in our son’s honor to help end the stigma against mental illness. Throu-gh the tragedy of losing Alex to suicide, we decided that the best way to honor him would be to ensure that no more lives are lost in the same way. We are a proud country and we have a long way to go with treatment and societal expectations, however I believe Alex would be proud of us, of all of you, for taking this first step.”
Everyone applauds. I look up at Viktor and briefly lean against him. His chin is raised high, a loving smile on hisl-ips as he looks at his father and I know that this moment, this journey, has meant a lot to him.
Queen Elin then steps to the mic to speak. “Thank you, Arvid. We would also like to take this time to introduce Miss Maggie McPherson, who is betrothed to our son, and her brothers and sisters who have made Sweden their new home.”
More applause.
Cra-p. I didn’t know I had to go out there too.
Viktor holds his arm out and I take it and now I’m gliding across the floor and everyone is applauding us. I know my cheeks are going beet red because I was not expecting this, so I quic-kly turn to the kids and beckon them over. They’re so scared, they freeze and it takes a nudging from Ingrid (more like a shoving) for them to finally walk out, still holding hands like they’re crossing the street.
Now the crowd is cl@pping louder and the kids are positively beaming at the attention. Especially Callum, of course he’s hamming it up and doing strong man poses.
“Nice family,” Viktor whispers in my ear as I look them over.
“The best,” I whisper back.
He bites his l!pand looks me over. “So when can we start one of our own?”
We’ve discussed having kids before but only in pas-sing. Now he’s asking me with the entire room staring at us. Thank god no one can hear him.
“I’ve made you go red,” he goes on quietly, squee-zing my hands. “A royal flush. You know I like that.”
“I know you do.” I raise my brow. “We can start right after this.”
“Give you the royal treatment in the coatroom?”
I grin. “Something like that.”
Something like that.
THE End