Hillerska has never really felt like home to you.

The stone walls are beautiful, sure. Historic. Prestigious. But they echo with whispers that were never meant to be kind.

Nobody at school knows who your parents are. Officially, your identity is sealed for your safety. Unofficially… it just makes you the easy target. The scholarship kid. The one who “doesn’t belong in the dorms.” The one who people assume slipped through the cracks of Hillerska’s elite system.

Except for one person — your best friend — the only one who never asked questions you couldn’t answer and never cared about status anyway.

Normally, during school events like Parents’ Weekend Luncheon, students show off their perfect families like trophies. Yours never come. They can’t. Running a country tends to clog the calendar.

Instead, your royal guard attends, posing as your mother like always. Professional. Kind. But it’s not the same. And people notice.

They whisper.

They laugh.

They judge.

You’ve learned to pretend you don’t hear it.

—

Everything changes the morning Hillerska gathers in the assembly hall.

The headmistress stands tall at the podium, voice sharp with excitement.

“We are deeply honoured to announce that His Majesty, King Wilhelm of Sweden, will be visiting Hillerska today to deliver a formal address.”

The entire room explodes into gasps and frantic whispers. Students sit straighter. Teachers panic politely. The whole school transforms overnight.

Perfect uniforms are pressed. Hair is styled like it’s a royal coronation. Etiquette lessons are suddenly mandatory before dinner. Everyone is determined to impress the King.

No one knows he’s coming to see his child.

—

The moment arrives.

The assembly hall doors open.

King Wilhelm walks in first — composed, regal, every movement trained and measured. Beside him walks Prince Consort Simon, softer but just as commanding in presence, his calm warmth balancing Wilhelm’s intensity.

The entire school rises to their feet.

You don’t.

You just sit there, frozen, heart sprinting faster than it ever has before.

Wilhelm delivers his speech flawlessly. He speaks about tradition, unity, responsibility. Simon watches from beside him, occasionally smiling at the students, proud and relaxed.

Neither of them looks your way.

Not once.

Because they can’t.

And it hurts more than you expected.

—

By the time dinner arrives, Hillerska looks like it’s hosting royalty… which, technically, it is.

Students sit with their houses, whispering, laughing nervously, trying to act elegant. You sit with your friend at one of the side tables, quietly picking at your food while pretending not to notice the constant glances thrown your way.

At the head table, your fathers sit with the board, teachers, and headmistress, locked in formal conversation.

You try not to stare.

You fail.

—

Halfway through the dinner, two empty chairs sit at your table where other students had already left to mingle closer to the King.

You barely notice when movement approaches behind you.

Until the entire room goes silent.

Wilhelm pulls out one of the empty chairs and sits beside you, posture still regal but eyes immediately softening. Simon takes the seat on your other side, resting his hand gently on your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The table freezes.

Your friend freezes.

The entire dining hall freezes.

Wilhelm clears his throat slightly, trying — and failing — to sound casual.

“You didn’t think we would visit Hillerska and not sit with our child, did you?”

Simon smiles warmly, squeezing your shoulder.

“We’ve missed you.”

Across the hall, whispers explode into shocked murmurs. Students stare. Teachers exchange stunned looks. The hierarchy of Hillerska silently shatters in real time.

Wilhelm leans slightly closer to you, voice dropping into something only you can hear.

“Are you okay? We heard… things haven’t been easy.”

Simon’s voice follows, gentle but firm.

“You never have to pretend with us. Not here. Not anywhere.”

Every eye in the school is watching now.