23. Alexander

"Everything is ready, Your Highness," Hank informs me as the sound engineer fastens the microphone to my shirt. He scrutinizes my attire—dark jeans paired with a pale-blue dress shirt—before his lips press into a thin line of disapproval. "We still have a few minutes should you wish to change. We're not going live until nine."

I maintain a composed expression but subtly straighten my posture, a silent declaration of my stance. "Why would I? You said I need to show the people the king I am."

Hank hesitates, clearly caught off guard by my defiance. "Well, yes, I did say that. But there's still a certain decorum to be maintained and?—"

Interrupting him, I firmly assert my choice. "And I've decided this is kingly attire. Anything other than fashion requests from you, Hank?" My deliberate emphasis on his name signals my dwindling patience.

Caught off balance, Hank stutters a response. "I—Umm—Yes, of course. No, everything is in place. The questions have been vetted in advance; we have our own people with their social media accounts ready to ask the preapproved questions, and Mrs. Bille has been briefed on which questions need to be asked."

Turning my attention to Anna Bille, I note her sitting across from my designated seat, a frown marring her features as she listens to one of the palace's publicists while undergoing last-minute makeup touch-ups. Bille is a renowned figure in the news world and a household name across the country—she likely has little patience for the constrained nature of this candid interview.

The anticipation of shaking up this overly scripted event brings a mischievous smile to my face, hidden from view but very much present in my demeanor. "Anything else?" I inquire of Hank in a challenging tone.

"No, not really. You are ready," he responds, clearly unaware of my full intentions.

I silently muse, More than you know, but simply nod and make my way to the set. Catching my brother's eye, I give him a wink, his grin echoing my own excitement for the impending deviation from the script.

As I approach, Mrs. Bille rises swiftly to greet me. "Your Highness, thank you for agreeing to this interview."

I nod in acknowledgment, gesturing for her to sit as I take my place. The moment before we go live is palpable with anticipation. "We'll be live in four, three, two, one…" The producer's countdown fades into silence, and Anna Bille transitions into her role with the ease of a seasoned professional.

"Welcome to Your Questions Tonight. I'm your host, Anna Bille, and I have the extreme honor of interviewing our new king, His Majesty King Alexander the Third. Your Majesty, thank you again for agreeing to sit down with me this evening."

I return her greeting with a polite smile. "The honor is all mine, Anna."

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Hank finding his seat, unaware of the curveball I'm about to throw. Anna's following words hint at the public's interest. "I can say this interview is probably one of our most popular. We opened our social media feed thirty minutes ago and already have over a thousand questions."

I offer her a confident smile, hoping it reaches Nessa if she's watching, as I suspect. "I'm ready."

"Perfect, so let's begin," Anna says, browsing through the tablet. "Okay, the first question is from Maria. First, my deepest sympathy for your loss. How are you adapting to your new role as king?"

I'm aware of the scripted response expected of me, but I choose honesty over rehearsed answers. "Thank you for your kind words, Maria. Honestly, it's very difficult to fill the shoes my father left. He was a great king, and I'll be frank—I'm learning as I go, hoping to do what's right for my people and the legacy I must uphold."

Anna Bille's initial surprise gives way to a more relaxed posture, a sign she appreciates the candidness of my answer. Little does she know, this is just the beginning.

Moving on, Anna presents another question. "Next question is from Thomas. Are you going to continue your father's efforts on the environment?"

The question nearly prompts an eye roll from me. It's hard to imagine these are genuinely the burning questions on everyone's mind about their young monarch.

"Hi Thomas," I begin, pushing past my skepticism. "Yes, this initiative was not just my father's; it was mine too. I worked very closely with him on all environmental matters. It's something I fully intend to continue."

Before Anna can move on, I see an opportunity to break from the script further. "May I see the tablet?" I ask, extending my hand toward her.

Anna looks momentarily taken aback, her eyebrows rising in surprise. "Excuse me?"

My smile doesn't falter. "The tablet. May I have it? I'd love to pick some questions myself."

Anna's professionalism shines through as she smoothly covers any surprise at my request, offering a laugh. "Yes, why not? That sounds like a delightful idea." She hands me the tablet, and as I scan it, I see the more challenging queries and criticisms mixed in.

I select a question from Carl that gets to the heart of public skepticism. "How are we supposed to trust you when you've spent the last three years in America instead of focusing on your country?" I relay to the audience, looking directly into the camera. "Thank you for the question, Carl," I begin, ready to address this head-on. "First, know that there hasn't been a day when I haven't thought about my country. I'm proud to have been born here and to represent our people worldwide. If given the choice, I'd still choose to belong to my people." I take a moment before diving deeper. "The reality is, being born as the first son, the heir to such a vast legacy, meant that my path was laid out for me from the start. It was difficult to distinguish where duty ended and Alexander began. To be an effective ruler, to give my all to my people, I realized I needed to understand myself better—a task difficult to accomplish when every action and word was that of Prince Alexander, the heir to the throne." I keep looking at the camera, making sure my sincerity is conveyed. "Going abroad, stepping away from the expectations of my role, was a journey to self-discovery. And what I discovered is that I want nothing more than to be your king, to be the best version of myself for all of you."

The room falls into a tense silence as I finish, the weight of my words hanging in the air. Even Anna Bille seems momentarily lost for words, her professional facade slipping as she looks at me, her expression filled with surprise.

"Okay then, next question," I say, turning my attention back to the tablet in hand. The next inquiry, from Birgitte, cuts a little too close to home. "How are you going to deal with your brother's behavior? He must be such an embarrassment for you."

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Henrick's reaction, the visible hurt on his face, and it stirs something deep within me.

"Well, Birgitte," I start, my voice steady despite the tumult of emotions. "I don't intend to ‘deal with' his behavior because Henrick isn't doing anything wrong. He's a typical seventeen-year-old boy. What you read in the press is often exaggerated and twisted to make it seem more sensational than it actually is. I have plenty of friends, and I can assure you no teenager can claim they've never made a mistake. Henrick is living, making mistakes, learning from them, and moving on. That's what growing up is about, and it's a process we all go through. We all make mistakes and face new experiences daily. It's important to learn from these and move forward. In fact, I'd go as far as to say I'm proud of my brother."

I pause for a moment, hoping to convey the sincerity of my next words. "There's the Henrick that the world sees in magazines—yes, the typical teenage boy, figuring out life and occasionally making poor choices. But then there's the Henrick people don't see. The kindhearted young man who spent two weeks sleeping on the floor of his sister's bedroom after her cat died, just to be there for her. The young man who discovered an employee's child had lost a scholarship due to a minor mistake and argued with our father to ensure she could attend that school. He's an incredibly sensitive soul who creates stunning art—art I hope he shares with the world one day."

My voice softens as I conclude, "So, I'm sorry if this isn't the answer you were expecting, Birgitte. But I believe in letting my brother grow and learn because I know his heart, and it's good. He's going to grow into a remarkable young man and be an incredible asset to the crown. Let's give him the benefit of the doubt, forgive his mistakes, and extend to him the same kindness we hope for ourselves."

I glance toward Henrick, catching the glimmer of tears in his eyes despite the bright lights. This moment is for him as much as it is for the audience. In my heart, I silently add, I love you, brother, hoping he understands the depth of my words.

Shifting to a lighter note, and with a specific person in mind, I quickly find a question that brings a smile to my face. "Here's a question from Greta. Is it true that you broke up with Sonya Bjornsen? And if it's true, are you single, and where can I apply to be a potential girlfriend?" I chuckle, picturing Nessa's probable reaction to the screen.

"Hey, Greta," I respond, amused yet sincere. "I appreciate your interest. To clarify, Ms. Bjornsen and I were never in a relationship to begin with. The Bjornsen family has been close to ours for many years, and we cherish their friendship, but there's never been any romantic involvement between Sonya and me. As for the position of my girlfriend, I'm afraid that vacancy has already been filled. My heart has been taken captive by a remarkable woman named Vanessa, whom you might have seen at the coronation."

I take a moment, knowing the weight of what I'm about to share. "I'm aware of the press's views on our relationship, and I understand that some may have reservations—that she might not fit the mold of what some consider the perfect girlfriend for a king. But, to me, she is perfect. You might say I'm a fool in love, and in many ways, I found Vanessa when I least expected it. On paper, we might seem an unlikely match, but she brings me immense happiness, and that's my line in the sand."

I grow more earnest, feeling the gravity of my declaration. "I am willing to make many sacrifices for my people and have done so, but I will not sacrifice my heart. To be a true and effective ruler, I must listen to it, and it unequivocally chooses Vanessa. She brings balance and clarity to my life. My hope is that you, the people, will extend to us the same grace and open-mindedness you showed my parents. Let's extend to each other, and particularly to Vanessa, the grace and understanding we all wish to receive."

The room feels charged with a new energy—surprise and anticipation hang thickly in the air. I've laid my heart bare for Nessa, for my country, for love. Now, all that's left is to wait and see how she will react to this public declaration. I just showed her that I was not done fighting for her.

Turning to Anna, whose gaze is fixed on me, I offer her the tablet back. "Mrs. Bille, do we have any more questions on the agenda?" My attempt to return to the flow of the interview doesn't mask the monumental shift that just took place.

Caught somewhat off guard, she regains her composure, accepting the tablet. "I—umm—well, that was quite the revelation." Her eyes briefly meet mine before addressing the camera, providing me a moment to glance at Hank, whose expression is less than pleased. It's become clear that changes are on the horizon.

Anna, now fully embracing the role of mediator between the public and their newly candid king, leans into her next inquiry. "And when might we have the opportunity to meet Vanessa? She sounds like an extraordinary person, one who has profoundly touched your heart."

Her question, laced with genuine curiosity and support, draws a grateful smile from me. "She's a remarkable presence, full of life and passion. Though she's currently in the US, I'm hopeful you'll meet her soon. I believe she'll be returning before long."

As I prepare to conclude the interview, Mrs. Bille, visibly moved by the turn of events, addresses me once more. "Your Majesty, thank you for your openness and the sincerity you've shared with us today. It's been a truly memorable interview."

Gratitude warms me, and I nod in appreciation. "Thank you, Mrs. Bille, for giving me the platform to speak my truth."

The room's atmosphere is thick with anticipation as the camera's red light blinks off, signaling the end of the live broadcast. Almost instantly, the room erupts into a cacophony of voices—questions, exclamations, and the shuffling of feet fill the space. Amid the sudden uproar, I feel a disconnect, my focus shifting inward toward the phone buzzing incessantly in my pocket.

Without acknowledging the commotion around me, I make my way out, the clamor fading into the background. The anticipation of seeing her name on my phone's screen propels me forward, each step quickening my pace. As I finally glance down, unlocking the device, a smile breaks free—undeniable, irrepressible. It's her. Nessa's message lights up the screen, a ray of hope that my foolishness worked.