Chapter 27
Harald
The darkness has been endless. Time means nothing here in this void where I float, haunted by memories that play on endless repeat.
Daniel's face when the truth was revealed—the way his warm brown eyes turned cold and distant, how his gentle smile twisted into betrayal.
Over and over, I watch him back away from me in that hotel room, shaking his head in disbelief.
"It was all a lie," he had said, his voice breaking.
The sound echoes through my consciousness, a torment I can't escape.
Sometimes the visions shift—Daniel running through the crowd of reporters, shoulders hunched against their shouted questions, while I stand helplessly watching him disappear.
Other times, I'm reaching for him but my fingers pass through empty air, and he vanishes like smoke.
Sometimes I hear voices—Ella, Erik, even Father—but they fade like wisps of smoke, meaningless against the crushing weight of Daniel's absence. One voice remains constant though, a gentle murmur of Daniel’s voice saying my name over and over that keeps me tethered to something beyond this emptiness, anchoring me when I feel myself drifting too far into the void.
Light creeps in slowly, piercing through the heavy blanket of unconsciousness.
My eyelids feel weighted, but I force them open, blinking against the harsh fluorescent glare.
As my vision clears, my heart stutters—Daniel is here, slumped in a chair beside my bed, dark circles under his eyes and his clothes wrinkled as though he's been here for days.
This can't be real.
My throat constricts with emotion. Is this death, then?
My final punishment—to see him here, so close, knowing I can never make things right?
The machines around me beep steadily, but even that feels distant, unreal.
This must be hell, I think, my own personal torment—to be forced to watch Daniel for eternity, close enough to see the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the flutter of his eyelashes, but never able to touch him, to hold him, to beg his forgiveness.
Like Tantalus reaching for water that forever recedes from his grasp, I am condemned to an eternity of watching the one I love, knowing my lies destroyed any chance of reconciliation.
The thought sends a wave of panic through me, and I want to scream, to thrash against this fate, but my body feels leaden and unresponsive.
Even the pain in my chest feels muted, distant, as though it belongs to someone else.
This is my punishment, then—to remain conscious but paralyzed, forced to witness what I've lost.
Daniel's head snaps up, his eyes meeting mine. For a moment, we just stare at each other, the air heavy between us. Then his face crumples, tears spilling down his cheeks as he launches himself forward.
"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," he sobs, carefully wrapping himself around me, his head resting against my chest. The weight of him is solid, warm—real.
His tears soak through the thin hospital gown, and I can feel him trembling.
Each sob that wracks his body sends vibrations through my chest, and the sensation is so visceral, so impossibly real, that my mind struggles to process it.
This can't be hell—no torture could replicate the precise way Daniel's fingers curl into my hospital gown, or the familiar scent of his shampoo as his hair brushes against my chin.
Slowly, cautiously, I lift my arms. They're weaker than I remember, but I manage to wrap them around him.
The sensation of holding him again sends a jolt through my entire body—like a defibrillator straight to my heart.
This isn't a dream. This isn't a hallucination.
My arms aren't passing through empty air; they're holding something solid, something real.
This is Daniel, here and whole in my arms, apologizing when I'm the one who should be begging for forgiveness.
The realization crashes over me like a wave, washing away the lingering shadows of my personal hell. He's here. He’s come back to me.
I want to speak, to tell him he has nothing to be sorry for, to beg his forgiveness for my own lies, but my throat is too dry, my voice lost to days of disuse.
Instead, I hold him closer, pressing my face into his hair as tears slip silently down my cheeks.
The steady beeping of the heart monitor marks each precious second of this miracle I never thought I'd have again, each beat a reminder that I'm alive, that this is real, that somehow, against all odds, Daniel has returned to me.
Daniel's breath hitches against my chest as he tries to calm himself. His fingers clutch at my hospital gown, and I can feel him gathering his thoughts. The heart monitor beside us keeps its steady rhythm, grounding me in this moment that still feels surreal.
"I understand now," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "Ingrid... she showed me your journal. Your therapy journal."
My heart skips a beat, and the monitor betrays my sudden anxiety with an erratic blip that seems to echo through the room.
Those pages contain my deepest fears, my darkest thoughts—everything I couldn't say aloud to anyone, not even to Ingrid sometimes.
The journal was supposed to be my sanctuary.
I feel naked, exposed in a way that even this thin hospital gown can't compare to.
"I read about how scared you were," Daniel continues, shifting slightly but not letting go.
"How you felt truly seen for the first time when you were with me.
Just Harald, not the Crown Prince." His voice cracks.
"I'm so sorry I didn't let you explain. I was so hurt, so angry.
.. but I understand now why you couldn't tell me right away. "
I try to swallow past the dryness in my throat. When I speak, my voice is barely a whisper, rough from disuse. "I wanted... to be real. With you."
Daniel lifts his head to look at me, his eyes red-rimmed but soft.
"You were real with me. Everything except your title—that was all real.
I see that now." He reaches for the water cup on the bedside table, helping me take small sips through a straw.
"I almost lost you because I was too stubborn to see it sooner. "
The cool water soothes my throat, and I find my voice again, though it's still weak. "I thought I'd lost you forever. That I deserved to lose you."
"No," Daniel says firmly, his hand finding mine. "No more losing each other. I've spent the last week watching you waste away, praying you'd wake up. I can't—" his voice breaks again. "I can't lose you like that again. Ever."
I squeeze his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine. After the cold darkness of the past week, his touch feels like sunlight. "I'm here," I whisper. "I'm here now."
Daniel
My footsteps echo through the private hospital wing as I support Harald's weight, one careful step at a time. Two weeks into recovery, and these daily walks have become our ritual—a dance of patience and determination.
"I've got you," I murmur, my arm steady around his waist. Despite Harald's protests that he can manage on his own, I can't help but notice how his hospital gown hangs loose on his still-too-thin frame.
Harald's grip tightens on my shoulder as we reach the end of the corridor. "I want to try the stairs today."
"The stairs?" My heart skips. "Are you sure that's—"
"Please." His voice carries that quiet determination I've come to know so well. "Just three steps. Ingrid said I need to push myself a little each day."
I hesitate, studying his face for any signs of fatigue. The dark circles under his eyes have begun to fade, but I can't shake the memory of him lying in that bed with tubes and ventilators down his throat. Every night, that image haunts my dreams.
"Three steps," I agree finally. "But if I see you wobble even once, we're turning back."
Harald's answering smile is worth all the worry. "Yes, nurse Ramirez."
"Don't get cheeky with me, Your Highness," I tease, though my grip remains protective as we approach the stairs. "I still outrank you in this hospital."
As we take the first step together, I feel his muscles trembling with effort. I keep my face carefully neutral, knowing Harald hates showing weakness, but my heart aches. Each step forward is a small victory against what we almost lost.
Harald's breathing grows laboured as we tackle the second step. His hand grips the railing so tightly his knuckles turn white, but there's fierce pride in his eyes that makes me feel warm inside.
"One more," I encourage. "You're doing amazing."
We make it to the third step when his knee buckles slightly. I catch him instantly, my arm wrapping more firmly around his waist. For a moment, we stand there, his forehead resting against my shoulder as he catches his breath.
"I hate being this weak," he whispers against my neck.
"Hey." I press my lips to his temple, tasting the salt of his sweat. "You're the strongest person I know. Three weeks ago, you were—" My voice catches. I can't finish the sentence.
Harald lifts his head, those blue eyes searching my face. "I'm still here, kaereste. I'm not going anywhere."
A nurse passes by, clipboard in hand, pretending not to notice the Crown Prince of Denmark being held up by his boyfriend in the stairwell. I've gotten used to the careful averting of eyes, the deliberate privacy the staff tries to maintain even in these intimate moments.
"Ready to head back?" I ask, noting the slight tremor in his legs.
"Five more minutes," he bargains, and I recognize the stubborn set of his jaw. "I want to try one more step."
"Harald—"
"Please, Daniel." His fingers brush my cheek. "I need to do this. For both of us."