Chapter 9 #3
"They're abandoning Poland," he said, his voice hollow. "Britain and France promised air support, ground reinforcements... and now they're just—" He couldn't finish the sentence.
"Watching," Sigrid supplied grimly. "They're going to let Poland fall."
Harald leaned against her car, suddenly needing the support. "But they guaranteed Poland's independence. They said they would defend her."
"Words," Sigrid said bitterly. "Just words on paper."
Harald read further, his heart sinking with each paragraph.
The British War Cabinet had decided that any meaningful intervention would be "logistically impossible.
" The French High Command had determined that their forces "were not yet prepared for offensive operations.
" Both nations would continue their naval blockade of Germany, but Poland would face Hitler's war machine alone.
"This is..." Harald struggled to find words. "This is unconscionable. The Poles are fighting and dying believing that help is coming."
"Father thought you should know," Sigrid said quietly. "He says you understand the military implications better than Freddie does."
Harald looked up sharply. "He said that?" Harald felt a complicated surge of emotions—pride that his father valued his insights, guilt that he was being compared favorably to Freddie, and overwhelming dread about what these dispatches meant.
"How is he?" Harald asked, carefully returning the papers to the portfolio.
Sigrid's face tightened. "Not well. The doctors have increased his medication again. He had a coughing fit during the Danish ambassador's visit that lasted nearly ten minutes. Mother had to step in and finish the meeting."
Harald winced. Their father's declining health was an open secret within the family, but hearing it stated so plainly made it impossible to ignore.
"And how is Mother handling things?"
"How do you think?" Sigrid's tone was dry. "Efficiently. She's already rearranged the King's schedule to minimize public appearances. And she's been having private meetings with some of the ministers—without Father present."
"That's worrying."
Harald felt a chill that had nothing to do with the autumn air. "And Freddie? What does he think about Poland?"
"You know Freddie. 'It's regrettable but unavoidable.
Sweden must maintain its neutrality at all costs.
'" She mimicked their brother's pragmatic tone perfectly.
"He doesn't see what this means for the future.
If Britain and France won't honor their guarantees to Poland, what happens when smaller nations are threatened? "
"Like Sweden," Harald murmured.
"Exactly like Sweden." Sigrid squeezed his arm. "That's why Father wanted you to see these. He says you have the historian's eye—you see patterns where others see only isolated events."
Harald stared down at the portfolio in his hands, feeling the weight of it—not just the physical weight, but the terrible knowledge it contained.
Thousands of Polish soldiers were fighting and dying, believing that allies were coming to their aid.
Thousands of civilians were enduring bombing raids, thinking that British and French planes would soon arrive to challenge German air superiority.
But no one was coming.
"There's something else," Sigrid said, her voice even softer now. "Father asked specifically about your friend."
"My friend?" Harald's head snapped up.
"The Jewish boy. Eliasberg." Sigrid's eyes were grave. "Father's been receiving reports about what's happening to Jews in occupied territories. He's... concerned."
Harald felt his chest constrict. "Jakob is Swedish. He was born in Russia, but he's been here since he was a child."
"That may not matter if things continue this way." Sigrid glanced toward the library where they'd left Jakob "Father wanted me to tell you to be careful. Not just about your... friendship, but about being seen to take too much interest in his welfare. Christian has been making comments."
Harald's jaw tightened. "Of course he has."
"Just be careful." Sigrid touched his cheek gently. "I've never seen you as fascinated with anyone as you are with that boy,. But these are dangerous times, and Christian is looking for any advantage he can find."
Harald nodded, unable to deny what his sister had clearly observed. "I'll be careful. But I won't desert him."
"I wouldn't expect you to." Sigrid smiled sadly. "You've always had more courage than the rest of us combined." She glanced at her watch. "I should go. Mother will be suspicious if I'm gone too long."
"Thank you for bringing these," Harald said, holding up the portfolio. "And for the warning."
Sigrid embraced him briefly. "Just remember, little brother — being happy is a way to resist all the horror.
Don't let them take that from you." She pulled back, her expression suddenly lighter.
"Now, go back to your handsome friend and finish saving Karl XII's army from the snow.
At least that disaster is safely in the past."
Harald watched as his sister's car pulled away, the diplomatic portfolio heavy in his hands. The weight of the world seemed to press down on him—his father's illness, his mother's ambitions, Christian's scheming, and now the betrayal of Poland by nations that had sworn to protect her.
He took a deep breath of the crisp autumn air, trying to steady himself before returning to the library.
Jakob would notice something was wrong; he always did.
And Harald wasn't sure he could explain the cold dread that had settled in his stomach—the fear that what was happening to Poland now was just the beginning, and that the ripples would eventually reach Swedish shores.
With a final glance at the retreating car, Harald turned and walked back toward the library, his mind already forming the careful words he would use to explain his troubled expression when Jakob inevitably asked what was wrong.
When Harald reentered the library, Jakob was still bent over their maps, but he looked up immediately, his expression shifting from concentration to concern.
"What's wrong?" he asked, straightening. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
Harald hesitated, the portfolio clutched in his hand. There were protocols about sharing diplomatic information, even with someone he trusted. But the weight of carrying this knowledge alone seemed suddenly unbearable.
"It's Poland," he said finally, his voice low despite the empty library. "Britain and France are abandoning them. No air support, no ground forces. Nothing."
Jakobs face darkened. "But they promised—"
"I know." Harald set the portfolio on the table, careful to keep the papers inside hidden. "They're going to let Poland fall."
Jakob was silent for a moment, his jaw working as he processed this. "Those bastards," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "All those people..."
Harald sank into a chair, suddenly exhausted. "I keep thinking about what we just discussed— all those soldiers who died because their commanders made bad decisions. Only now it's happening again, only worse, because they know exactly what they're doing."
Jakob moved to stand beside him, close enough that Harald could feel the warmth radiating from his body. "Is there anything Sweden can do?"
"We're neutral," Harald said, the words tasting bitter in his mouth. "We can't intervene without violating our own policies. And we're too small to make a difference anyway."
"So we just watch."
"We just watch." Harald looked up at Jakob, seeing the same helpless anger in his eyes that Harald felt churning in his own chest. "Sometimes I hate being right about things. I told Freddie weeks ago that the western powers wouldn't follow through."
Jakob placed a hand on Harald's shoulder, a brief touch that nevertheless sent warmth through him. "You need to get away from all this for a while," he said quietly. "Come to the farm this weekend. We can walk by the lake, clear your head."
Harald knew exactly what "walking by the lake" meant—the sun-warmed rock, Jakob's skin against his, the momentary freedom from all the weight he carried. The memory of their last visit sent heat through his body, temporarily displacing the cold dread that had settled there.
"I can't just ignore what's happening," he said, though without much conviction.
"You can't change it either, not right now," Jakob countered. "But you can take a few hours to remember what you're fighting for." His voice dropped lower. "What's the point of all this if we never get to live?"
Harald looked up at him, struck by the simple wisdom in those words. What was the point of fighting for a better world if you never allowed yourself to experience any of its joys?
"Saturday," he said finally. "I can come Saturday morning."
Jakob's smile was like the sun breaking through clouds. "Good. I'll tell my mother to expect you for breakfast." His expression grew more serious. "And Hal... we'll figure this out. All of it. Together."
Harald nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Together. Such a simple word, and yet it carried so much—promise, comfort, and a defiance against the darkening world around them.
Jakob squeezed his shoulder once more before returning to their maps. "Now, let's finish saving Karl XII's army. Maybe we can learn something that will help with the current mess."
Harald took a deep breath, allowing himself to be pulled back into their tactical exercise. The world was unraveling, yes, but here in this quiet corner of the library, with Jakob's steady presence beside him, he could almost believe they might find a way through the coming storm.
And on Saturday, after chores and alone by the lake, he would allow himself to forget, just for a little while, that he was a prince in a world at war. For a few precious hours, he would simply be a young man in love, stealing moments of joy in defiance of all that sought to destroy it.