Chapter 26
26
TORE
I had been asleep, in the middle of a really nice dream about Farron and me, when my phone rang. The familiar melody of “ Ja, vi elsker dette landet ”—Norway’s national anthem—filled my dorm room. I’d set that ringtone for my father.
I checked the time. A quarter to five. Wait, what? My father knew the time difference. My stomach dropped. “Pappa? Hva er galt? ”
“It’s your Uncle Ragnar. He died,” my father said in Norwegian, his voice grave.
The world tilted on its axis. My throat constricted as I gripped the phone tighter. “What? No, that can’t be right.”
“He collapsed a few hours ago. Medical personnel did everything possible to save him but were unable. We need you to come home immediately.”
I stared blankly at the wall adorned with a Norwegian flag. Uncle Ragnar’s smiling face flashed through my mind: teaching me to fish, making bad dad jokes, taking me on his snowmobile. He’d been the king, yes, but to me, he’d also been my uncle, and now he was gone. Just like that.
“I’ll start packing right away,” I managed, my voice cracking.
“A car will pick you up in fifteen minutes.”
“Okay. Pappa , jeg beklager .”
“I’m sorry too, Tore. He will be deeply missed.”
The next hours passed in a blur. I vaguely recalled packing a suitcase, informing a sleepy Luke I had to go home for a family emergency, and firing off a text to Farron. Before I knew it, I was stepping off the private jet onto Norwegian soil.
Even years later, I could barely remember anything about that week as we mourned as a family and nation. There were meetings to be held, a country to be reassured, and family to console. I functioned on autopilot, doing what needed to be done.
The funeral, held a week later, was a grand affair, as befitting a king. I stood stoically beside my parents and sisters, painfully aware of the eyes of the nation upon us.
“ Herregud ,” I muttered under my breath as the casket was carried past. “This can’t be real.”
My sister Astrid squeezed my hand.
I swallowed hard, straightening my back. A prince didn’t cry in public. But oh, how I wanted to.
The service dragged on, a mix of pomp and circumstance that Uncle Ragnar would have found amusing. I could almost hear his dry chuckle in my ear. All this fuss over little old me?
As we followed the casket out of the cathedral, the reality of the situation hit me like a punch to the gut. This wasn’t about losing a beloved uncle. The entire power structure of our family—of our country—had shifted. My cousin, Gustav, was now king at only twenty-eight years old, with his oldest son next in line. And I was one step closer to a throne I’d never wanted.
“You all right?” Andor, my best friend since childhood, murmured as we walked.
I gave a slight shake of my head. “ Nei . But I have to be, don’t I?”
He nodded solemnly. “That’s the curse of royalty, my friend. The show must go on.”
And go on it did. I stood tall as we processed through the streets of Oslo, waving stoically to the mourning crowds. Inside, I was screaming. I wanted to run back to Hawley, to lose myself in the simplicity of college life. To be just Tore again, not His Royal Highness Prince Tore von Glücksburg.
But as I caught sight of my father’s grief-stricken face, I knew that wasn’t an option. My family needed me. My country needed me. But Farron was never far from my thoughts, a beacon of hope in the stormy sea of my new reality. In between, I fired off texts at him… but he never replied. I had no idea why and deep inside me, despair took root that something was horribly wrong, but I had no time to let it surface.
The day after the funeral, I stood in my father’s study, the weight of tradition pressing down on me as heavily as the ornate oil paintings of our ancestors lining the walls. My father’s eyes, rimmed with red from days of mourning, bore into mine with an intensity that made me want to look away. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.
“Tore, you must understand. With Ragnar gone, our family’s duties have multiplied tenfold. We need you here, son.”
I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the argument I knew was coming. “Pappa, I understand the gravity of the situation, but I can’t abandon my studies. I’ve made commitments?—”
“Commitments?” My father’s eyebrow arched. “Your commitment is to this family, to Norway.”
“And I have always honored that commitment.” My hands clenched at my sides. “But finishing my education at Hawley is part of that. It’s preparing me to serve our country better.”
Father sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Tore, this isn’t some gap year adventure. The stakes have changed.”
“I know that,” I said, softer now. “But I also know that Uncle Ragnar would have wanted me to finish what I started. He always emphasized the importance of a well-rounded education, remember?”
A flicker of grief passed over my father’s face at the mention of his brother. For a moment, I thought I’d gone too far. But then his shoulders sagged slightly. “One semester,” he conceded. “You may finish this semester at Hawley. But after that, we reevaluate. Agreed?”
Relief washed over me. “Agreed. Thank you, Pappa.”
As I turned to leave, my thoughts immediately drifted to Farron. God, how I missed him. His strong, calloused hands. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed. Even that infuriating stubbornness of his.
I pulled out my phone, desperate to reach out, to hear his voice. But then I hesitated. What could I even say? Sorry I disappeared. Oh, by the way, I’m a prince?
I needed to tell him the truth, but not over the phone. It could wait until I got back. Between meetings with advisors and comforting my grieving family, I sent more messages.
I’m sorry for disappearing. I promise I’ll explain when I get back.
I miss you.
Farron, please let me know you’re okay.
I’m coming back to Hawley in a few days.
Each unanswered text felt like a punch to the gut. Was he ignoring me? Had something happened to him? The possibilities swirled in my mind, each worse than the last.
But I couldn’t go back to Hawley just yet. Christmas had arrived, and with it, a new round of grief at celebrating the holidays without Uncle Ragnar. We went through the motions but our heart wasn’t in it.
Then again, I’d left my heart in Ohio.
By the time my plane touched down in Ohio in early January, I was a man possessed. I barely registered the drive from the airport to campus, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm in my chest. The familiar sights of Hawley College blurred past my window, but I only had eyes for one destination: Farron’s dorm.
I practically sprinted across the quad, my sneakers slipping on the damp grass. Students turned to stare, but I couldn’t bring myself to care about maintaining my usual composure. All that mattered was finding Farron.
I burst into his dorm building, taking the stairs two at a time. My hand shook as I raised it to knock on his door, hesitating for a moment. What if he didn’t want to see me? What if I’d ruined everything by disappearing without explanation?
But I had to know. I had to see him, to explain, to make things right. I took a deep breath and knocked, my heart in my throat as I waited for an answer.
The door swung open, and there he was. Farron’s broad frame filled the doorway, his dark eyes widening in surprise as they met mine. For a moment, we stared at each other, the air thick with tension.
“Tore,” he said, his voice low and guarded. “I’m sorry about your uncle.”
My heart clenched at his words, a mix of grief and gratitude washing over me. “Thank you,” I managed, my voice hoarse. But then it hit. My uncle. I’d only mentioned a family emergency.
“Farron, I?—”
But he cut me off, his expression hardening. “Yes, I know who you really are… Your Highness.”
The title hit me like a slap. The blood drained from my face as I realized the full extent of what he was saying. He knew. Somehow, he’d discovered my true identity.
“Farron, please,” I pleaded, reaching out instinctively. He flinched away from my touch, and I let my hand fall uselessly to my side. “Let me explain. I never meant to?—”
“To what?” His voice was sharp with hurt and anger. “To lie? To pretend to be someone you’re not?” His eyes blazed with a mix of emotions: betrayal, anger, and so much pain that my own heart broke in response.
“No, that’s not… I didn’t want to lie to you. I wanted to be normal, to be just Tore. I wanted you to know me, not my title.”
Farron laughed bitterly. “Know you? How could I know you when everything about you was a lie?”
“Not everything,” I insisted, desperation creeping into my voice. “My feelings for you, they’re real. They’ve always been real.” I stepped closer, willing him to see the truth in my eyes. “I’m so sorry, Farron. I never meant to hurt you. Please, let me explain.”
I could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he wavered between anger and something softer. For a moment, I dared to hope that he might listen, that I might have a chance to make things right.
But then his jaw clenched, and the walls came up behind his eyes. “You’ve explained enough, Your Highness,” he said, his voice cold and formal. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
As he began to close the door, panic surged through me. I couldn’t let it end like this. I couldn’t lose him. “Farron, wait!” I cried. “Please, I lo?—”
But the door shut in my face, cutting off my desperate declaration. I stood there, staring at the closed door, my heart shattering into a million pieces. What had I done?
I pressed my forehead against the cold wood of Farron’s door, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The finality of that slamming door echoed through my body, leaving me feeling hollow and lost.
“Farron, please,” I pleaded, my voice barely above a whisper. “I know I messed up. I know I hurt you. But please, give me a chance to explain.”
There was no response from the other side of the door. I couldn’t even hear movement. Was he standing there, as frozen as I was? Or had he walked away, leaving me talking to an empty room?
I swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump in my throat. “I never meant to lie to you. I just… I wanted you to see me. The real me. Not the prince, not the title. Just Tore.”
“Fuck off, Prince Tore.” Farron’s voice finally came through the door, thick with emotion. “I don’t want to hear your excuses.”
His words were like a knife to my gut, but at least he was talking. I latched onto that tiny glimmer of hope. “They’re not excuses. I know I was wrong. I should’ve told you the truth from the beginning. But I was scared, Farron. Scared of losing you before I even had a chance.”
I heard a thud from inside the room like something being thrown against a wall. “You don’t get it, do you?” Farron’s voice was closer now, angrier. “You had me. You fucking had me, Tore. And you threw it away with your lies. We’re done. Go back to your castle. This commoner’s made his decision.”
His words hit me like a physical blow. I had to brace myself against the doorframe to keep from stumbling. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, knowing it wasn’t enough but not knowing what else to say. “Please, Farron.”
But there was only silence from the other side of the door.
My legs gave out, and I slid down the wall, landing hard on the floor. Tears burned in my eyes as the reality of the situation hit me. I’d lost him. I’d lost Farron. The one person who’d made me feel alive, who’d shown me a world beyond my royal duties and expectations. And it was all my fault.
I buried my face in my hands, my shoulders shaking with silent sobs. How could I have been so stupid? So selfish? I’d thought I could have it all: my royal life and Farron. But in trying to keep both, I’d lost the one thing that truly mattered.
I didn’t know how long I stayed there, lost in my grief and regret. But eventually, I forced myself to stand. My legs were shaky, and my chest ached with each breath.
I’d lost the person I loved, and I had no one to blame but myself.