Page 74 of Defying the Crown
"No, Daniel." I step forward, still holding his hand. "He needs to hear this. I'm gay, Father. I'm in love with Daniel. And if you force me to choose between the crown and him, you'll lose both your heir and your son."
The silence that follows is deafening. Father's face goes through a series of emotions—shock, anger, calculation. Finally, his eyes narrow.
"You would abandon your birthright? Your duty to Denmark? For him?"
"For myself," I correct him. "And yes, for Daniel. Because he showed me something you never could—that I'm worth more than just my title, that I'm worth love."
Father's laugh is cold as he moves to his desk, pulling out an official-looking document. "I anticipated this childish rebellion. This proclamation names your cousinOskar as heir to the throne. One signature, and your... choice becomes irrelevant."
"You can't—" I start, but the doors burst open.
"Actually, Prince Harald, you're right he can't." Prime Minister Anja Christensen strides in, Erik close behind her. Her heels click against the marble floor with decisive authority. "And Magnus I believe you'll find your own position less secure than you might imagine."
Father's face darkens. "How dare you interrupt a private—"
"Private?" Anja raises an eyebrow, her steel-grey gaze cutting through Father's bluster like a blade through silk. My heart pounds as I watch her command the room with effortless authority. "Nothing about the monarchy is private, Magnus. Particularly not when the King attempts to circumvent constitutional law." She sets her briefcase on his desk with a sharp snap that makes me flinch, though I notice with satisfaction that Father startles too. The rich leather catches the afternoon light streaming through the tall windows as she towers over his seated form. "The Danish Parliament has some concerns about your recent... decisions." The way she drawls that last word makes it clear she knows everything - perhaps even more than I do - about Father's machinations.
"The succession is the Crown's prerogative—"
"The succession," Anja cuts in, her voice as sharp as a blade, "must be approved by Parliament. And I can assure you that Parliament will not approve Oskar." The finality in her tone sends a chill down my spine, even as my heart races at this unexpected defence. She turns to me, her expression softening slightly, the stern lines around her mouth easing. I find myself standing straighter under her knowing gaze, though my palms are damp against my trouser legs. "We've watched Prince Harald's growth, his connection with the people, his humanity. That's the future Denmark needs." Her words wrap around me like a protective shield, and for the first time today, I feel a flicker of hope burning in my chest. Despite my own doubts, despite Father's constant criticisms, here stands someone who sees worth in me - in the very qualities Father has always deemed weaknesses.
"You overstep, Prime Minister," Father growls.
"No, Magnus." Her voice carries steel, each word a blade cutting through the tension in Father's office. "You overstepped. The world is changing. Denmark is changing." Prime Minister Christensen takes a deliberate step forward, her heels clicking against the polished floor with a finality that makes my breath catch. I've never seen anyone challenge Father like this before, and the sight is both terrifying and exhilarating. "And you have a choice—step aside gracefully, or face a constitutional crisis you cannot win." The threat in her words is unmistakable, wrapped in diplomatic silk but no less deadly for it. I watch Father's face, seeing the muscle in his jaw twitch—a tell I've known since childhood that signals his barely contained rage.
I feel Daniel's hand trembling in mine, but when I look at him, his eyes are steady, supporting me through this seismic shift in my world.
"You would dare—" Father begins.
"Yes," Anja says simply, her voice carrying the weight of absolute certainty that makes my breath catch. "I would." She maintains unwavering eye contact with Father, and I can see the shift in power happening before my eyes, like tectonic plates grinding against each other. "The papers are drawn up." Her hand gestures to her briefcase, a casual reminder of the weapons she carries - not bullets or blades, but documents that could end centuries of tradition. "Either you abdicate willingly, or Parliament will call for a vote of no confidence in the monarchy itself. Your choice." The way she enunciates 'choice' makes it clear that it's anything but - it's an ultimatum delivered with the precision of a surgeon's scalpel, and I watch as it cuts deep into Father's carefully maintained facade of control.
Father sinks into his chair, the weight of reality finally hitting him. His fingers brush over the now-useless proclamation naming Oskar as heir.
"You planned this," he says to Anja, his voice hollow. "How long?"
"Since your son lay dying in a hospital bed and you were more concerned with press coverage than his recovery." Anja's voice is clinical, precise. "Erik brought some... concerning documents to my attention. Records of your attempts to suppress Harald's medical history, threats of disinheritance, evidence of emotional abuse spanning decades."
My breath catches. I look at Erik, who meets my eyes steadily.
"I swore to protect the Crown Prince," Erik says quietly. "Sometimes protection means making difficult choices."
"The people love Harald," Anja continues, her words striking me with their unexpected warmth. "They see themselves in his struggles, his honesty, his love." She glances at Daniel with approval, a small but meaningful gesture that makes my heart flutter. I watch as Daniel straightens slightly under her attention, his presence beside me a steady anchor in this storm. "The monarchy needs to evolve,Magnus. Your son understands this. You do not." Her words hang in the air like a final judgment, and I feel their weight settle over the room. For the first time, I truly see how others view me - not as the weak disappointment my father always claimed, but as someone who might actually represent hope for Denmark's future.
Father's hands clench on the desk. "And if I refuse?"
"Then every document goes public." Anja's smile is sharp as a blade, her eyes glinting with a predatory certainty that makes even me shiver despite being on her side. "Every cruel word, every threat, every manipulation. The recordings, the medical reports, the testimonies - all of it." She lets that sink in for a moment before continuing, her voice carrying the weight of absolute conviction. "How long do you think the monarchy would survive that scandal? How many days before the people demand answers about their beloved King's true nature?" I can see the blood draining from Father's face as the full implications of her words hit home, and I find myself unconsciously leaning closer to Daniel for support.
The silence stretches, heavy with decades of power shifting in real time. Finally, Father looks at me, really looks at me, for what feels like the first time in years.
"You planned this too?" he asks, and I hear genuine curiosity beneath the anger. His voice wavers slightly, the iron control he's maintained my entire life showing its first cracks. The way his hands grip the armrests of his chair, knuckles white with tension, tells me more than his words ever could.
"No," I say honestly, drawing strength from Daniel's steady presence beside me. "I was ready to walk away from everything for Daniel. But it seems Denmark wasn't ready to let me go." The truth of those words settles in my chest like a physical weight, and I realize that for the first time in my life, I'm not backing down from my father's withering gaze. The choice between my crown and my heart had seemed impossible mere hours ago, yet here I stand, somehow managing to keep both.
"You have until tomorrow morning to sign the abdication papers," Anja says, placing a folder on Father's desk. "I suggest you use that time to consider your legacy carefully."
Father stares at the folder, his world crumbling around him. For a moment, I see past the King to the broken man beneath—someone so afraid of weakness he never learned true strength.
"I did what I thought was best,"he says quietly, almost to himself. "What my father taught me..."
