Page 73 of Defying the Crown
Daniel
The palace gates close behind our car with a resounding clang, shutting out the press that followed us from the hospital. I'm still tingling from that kiss, my lips feeling branded by Harald's very public display of affection.
"That," Ella announces from the front seat, "was absolutely brilliant. Father is going to have kittens."
"Ella," Erik warns softly from beside her, but I catch his smile in the rearview mirror.
Harald's hand hasn't left mine since we got in the car. "Father will have to accept it," he says, his voice carrying that same quiet determination I heard during his recovery. "I'm done hiding."
The palace looms before us, magnificent and intimidating. Despite having seen photos, nothing prepared me for the reality of Amalienborg in person. My breath catches as we pull up to the entrance.
"Having second thoughts?" Harald asks softly, noticing my tension.
"No," I say, surprising myself with how much I mean it. "Just... processing. A month ago I was denying insurance claims in a cubicle, and now..."
"Now you're about to walk into a palace with the Crown Prince of Denmark who just kissed you senseless in front of the international press?" Ella supplies helpfully. She catches my eye in the mirror, and I can't help but smile. Those long nights in the hospital, when Harald was first recovering, she'd sit with me for hours, sharing stories about their childhood, bringing me Danish pastries, becoming the sister I never had. Now she winks at me, that same fierce protectiveness in her eyes that I've come to know so well.
"Something like that," I laugh, the tension breaking.
Harald brings our joined hands to his lips. "You're not alone," he reminds me. "Whatever happens in there, we face it together."
The car door opens, and Erik appears, ever efficient. "Your Highness, His Majesty is waiting in the state room."
Harald's hand tightens briefly on mine. "Then we shouldn't keep him waiting." He turns to me, those blue eyes serious. "Ready?"
I think about how far we've come—from anonymous messages to hospital rooms to this moment. I think about Harald's strength during his recovery, how he fought his way back not just to his duties, but to me.
"Ready," I say, and step into my new life beside my prince.
Harald
The familiar comforting weight of Daniel's hand in mine steadies my racing heart as we approach the state room. Every portrait of my ancestors on these walls seems to watch our progress, judging, assessing. But for the first time in my life, I stand tall under their painted gazes.
"I could come with you," Ella offers, her protective instinct showing. Over the past weeks, I've watched her fold Daniel into our small family unit with the same fierce devotion she's always shown me. "Father might be more... contained with witnesses."
"No," I say, squeezing Daniel's hand. "This is something I need to face myself."
Erik opens the heavy doors, announcing our presence with practiced formality. "His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Harald." A pause, then with deliberate emphasis, "And his partner, Mr. Daniel Ramirez."
My father stands at the window, his back to us, hands clasped behind him in that militant pose I know so well. The silence stretches, heavy with unspoken words.
"I saw your little display outside the hospital," he finally says, not turning around. "Very theatrical."
I feel Daniel tense beside me, but I keep my voice steady. "It wasn't theatre, Father. It was truth."
"Truth?" Now he turns, his face stormy. "The truth is that you are the Crown Prince of Denmark. The truth is that you have responsibilities, expectations—"
"The truth," I interrupt, surprising us both, "is that I almost died." My voice catches, but I push on. "And the only reason I didn't is standing right here beside me."
Father's face hardens at my words. "You were unwell. You received medical care. This... emotional display is unnecessary."
"Unwell?" I feel Daniel's hand tighten in mine as my voice rises. "I stopped eating. I stopped sleeping. I gave up on everything because I thought that's what you wanted—the perfect, proper prince who never steps out of line."
"What I want," Father snaps, "is a son who understands his duty to the crown. Not this... spectacle you've created."
"The truth is you don't give a damn at all, do you?" The words burst from me, decades of pain behind them. "You didn't care when I was hospitalized as a child. You didn't care when I collapsed three weeks ago. All you care about is how it looks to the press."
"Harald—" Daniel's voice is soft, concerned, but I need to finish this.
