Chapter 10
Harald
"Get it moving, please!" I drummed my fingers on the marble bar top as the jet crew finalized preparations.
The royal insignia gleamed on every surface—mocking me, declaring my importance while I fidgeted like an impatient child.
My nerves were frayed at the edges, anxiety coiling in my stomach like a restless serpent.
Father would call this behavior beneath my station, another disappointment to add to his mental tally of my failings.
But I couldn't help it. Every minute spent in this gilded cage of privilege only tightened the invisible noose around my neck.
I watched the ground crew scurrying about outside the window, envying their simple purpose and clear direction—something I'd never truly had despite the crown that awaited me.
Erik raised an eyebrow. "Your Highness, these safety protocols exist for a reason."
"I know, I know." I ran my hand through my hair, messing up the careful styling my personal groomer had insisted upon this morning. "It's just..."
Just that Daniel was waiting. Daniel with his messy morning hair and infectious laugh that made my chest tighten with something I hadn't felt in years.
Daniel who knew me as Harald, just Harald, not the Crown Prince of Denmark with all the crushing expectations that title carried—who'd helped me through that anxiety-inducing speech without even knowing it.
Who'd texted me simple encouragements thinking I was just nervous about some corporate presentation, not realizing his words were steadying my hands before I addressed diplomats and dignitaries.
In those moments with him, I could breathe.
I could be someone other than the carefully constructed public figure my father had molded me to be.
"The pilot says ten more minutes, sir." Erik's voice softened. "Perhaps you'd like to review the itinerary for your stay?"
"I've memorized it." My voice came out more clipped than intended, the tension in my shoulders betraying my outward composure.
Three days in New York. Three days where I'd pretend to be inspecting Danish investments while actually giving most of my security detail the slip to meet a man I'd never seen in person.
The absurdity of my plan struck me suddenly—heir to the throne of Denmark, sneaking around Manhattan like a rebellious teenager rather than a future monarch.
Yet something about Daniel pulled me toward him with a gravity I couldn't resist, couldn't explain to anyone, least of all my father or Erik.
Those text conversations had become my oxygen, the only moments when the weight of the crown seemed to lift from my head, if only temporarily.
The flight attendant approached with a hesitant smile. "Would Your Highness care for a drink before takeoff?"
"No, thank you." I checked my phone again—no new messages from Daniel. Had he changed his mind? Was he as nervous as I felt?
The engines finally roared to life, and I clutched the armrests. Flying never bothered me, but this journey felt different. I wasn't traveling as Denmark's Crown Prince but as a man pursuing something real. Something honest.
"You're white as a sheet," Erik murmured, sliding into the seat across from me. "Having second thoughts?"
"Second, third, fortieth thoughts." I laughed nervously, the sound catching in my throat like a trapped butterfly.
My fingers drummed against the plush armrest in an erratic rhythm that matched my pulse.
"What if he's disappointed? What if he expected someone different, someone.
.. better?" The anxiety that had been my lifelong companion twisted in my chest. I leaned forward, lowering my voice to a whisper that barely carried over the rumble of the engines.
"What if he realizes who I am and everything changes?
One Google search and the fairytale crumbles.
The Crown Prince masquerading as just Harald from Denmark.
" The very thought sent a cold shiver down my spine—that moment of recognition in Daniel's eyes, wonder transforming into calculation, or worse, betrayal.
"Then he wasn't the right person." Erik's gaze held mine. "But from what little you've shared, he seems to care about the man, not the title."
I nodded, my throat tight. "I've never done this before. Met someone as... just me."
"Perhaps that's why it matters so much."
The plane began taxiing, and I closed my eyes, picturing Daniel's face from his photos—that infectious smile with a hint of mischief, those expressive dark eyes that seemed to see right through pretense.
In less than eight hours, I'd see that face in person, not confined to the small rectangle of my phone screen.
I'd hear his voice without the static of a phone call, clear and vibrant in the same air I breathed.
My stomach fluttered with a mixture of anticipation and terror.
This wasn't a diplomatic meeting with prepared statements and practiced smiles.
This was me—just Harald—stepping into something real and unpredictable for perhaps the first time in my life.
I was terrified. I was exhilarated. I was finally moving toward something I wanted, not something expected of me.
For once in my life, the crushing weight of duty and royal obligation wasn't dictating my actions - this was purely my heart leading the way, however reckless it might be.
My pulse quickened at the thought, sending sparks of electricity through my veins that made me feel more alive than I had in years.
Even the anxiety churning in my stomach felt different - not the usual dread of public appearances and diplomatic functions, but rather the sweet, dizzying nervousness of pursuing something genuinely meaningful to me, consequences be damned.
"You look like you need this." Erik handed me a small white pill. "Dr. Nielsen authorized it for your flight anxiety."
I studied the tablet resting in my palm. "What flight anxiety? I never take these."
"Precisely why you should now." Erik's expression softened with concern. "You've barely slept in days, Your Highness. You'll want to be rested when you meet him."
He was right. The thought of facing Daniel with dark circles under bloodshot eyes wasn't appealing. I'd been too wired, spending nights staring at my phone screen, rereading our conversations, analyzing every word.
"Fine." I tossed back the pill with a swig of water. "Wake me before landing. I need time to..." To what? Compose myself? Rehearse what to say? Nothing would adequately prepare me for actually seeing Daniel in person.
Erik dimmed the cabin lights. "Rest well, sir."
I reclined my seat, feeling the gentle vibration of the jet beneath me.
The pill worked quickly, a gentle warmth spreading through my limbs, my eyelids growing heavy.
Thoughts of Daniel drifted through my mind like clouds across the Danish sky—his laugh during our phone call, the way he'd described his tiny apartment with such animation I could almost see it, the vulnerability in his voice when he spoke about his past.
Would he see right through me? My carefully constructed facade of normalcy that couldn't possibly hold up to in-person scrutiny? Or would he see me—just Harald—the person I glimpsed in rare moments when crown and country weren't weighing me down?
The thought both terrified and thrilled me as consciousness began slipping away. In my drowsy state, I imagined Daniel's smile welcoming me, not the practiced diplomatic smile I'd perfected for cameras and public appearances, but something genuine that reached his eyes. Something real.
Something worth crossing an ocean for.
My last coherent thought before sleep claimed me was wondering if Daniel was as nervous as I was, if he too was counting hours and minutes, simultaneously afraid and eager for the moment we'd finally meet.
Erik
I leaned back in the plush leather seat of the jet, finally allowing my shoulders to slump.
The morning had been a frenzy of discreet arrangements, secretive phone calls, and carefully worded emails.
Organizing a royal flight without attracting the palace gossips' attention was like performing surgery with boxing gloves on.
"Everything's arranged, Your Highness," I'd told Harald earlier, handing him the itinerary. "The plane will be ready in three hours."
That's when he'd gazed at me with those eyes—the ones that had made my pulse falter since our teenage years. Eyes that never regarded me with the longing I privately hoped they might.
"Erik, I need to tell you something." His voice carried an unusual vulnerability. "I'm not just going to New York for diplomatic reasons."
I maintained my practiced neutral expression, though my stomach tightened. "Sir?"
"I've met someone. Online." His face transformed as he spoke, years of royal restraint melting away into an expression of almost boyish vulnerability that I hadn't seen since we were teenagers sneaking chocolate from the palace kitchens.
"His name is Daniel. We've been talking for weeks and.
.. I need to see him in person." The way Harald's voice softened on this stranger's name made my chest constrict with an emotion I refused to name, even as I noticed the slight tremor in his usually steady hands, the way his shoulders seemed both tense and lighter somehow, as if unburdened by finally speaking these words aloud.
"I see," I replied, my voice impressively steady despite the cold knife twisting between my ribs.
Harald sank into the chair opposite mine, relief washing over his features at having shared his secret.
His shoulders relaxed as if unburdened of an invisible weight, though his fingers still tapped nervously against his knee.
"He doesn't know who I really am. To him, I'm just Harald," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking the words too loudly might shatter this fragile fantasy he'd constructed.
The vulnerability in his eyes reminded me of when we were young, before the crown had become so heavy on his brow, before the expectations of an entire nation and an unreasonable father had carved permanent worry lines into his forehead.
"Just Harald," I echoed, swallowing hard. How I'd longed to know 'just Harald' too, beyond the barriers of crown and duty.
"I've never felt this way before," he continued, oblivious to my inner turmoil. "When I talk to him, I'm not the Crown Prince. I'm just... me."
I nodded, forcing a supportive smile that didn't reach my eyes.
"That must be freeing," I managed, even as the words scraped my throat raw.
Years of diplomatic training came to my rescue, allowing me to maintain this facade of calm interest while inside, my heart splintered into countless sharp-edged fragments.
How many nights had I stayed late in his office, how many private moments had we shared, all while I harbored these useless, inappropriate feelings?
And now, to sit here and listen to him speak of another with such unguarded tenderness—it was exquisite torture.
"It is," he whispered, almost to himself. "For once, someone sees me clearly."
The irony burned. I'd seen him clearly for years—his doubts, his strengths, his gentle heart beneath the royal facade. I'd stood beside him through every crisis, every triumph. Yet he flew across an ocean for a connection formed through text messages.
Now, alone as Harald slept beside me oblivious to my inner turmoil, I allowed myself a moment of weakness. My hands trembled slightly as I organized the security protocols for his visit. I would ensure his safety, as always. I would facilitate this meeting with Daniel, whoever he was.
Because that was my role. Not the lover, but the loyal secretary. The friend who would never cross that line, no matter how much I ached to.