Everyone is celebrating their drunkenness differently.
There’s Aurora, who has discovered the bag of party favors and is running around decorating the place with tinsel and stick-on stars, already wearing a plastic top hat and glasses with the numbers 2020 across them. She’s drunk for sure, but she seems to be running on her own energy.
There’s Ella, who is drinking wine with Stella on the couch, deep in conversation. Occasionally one of them laughs at something the other one said, and I have a feeling they’re talking about their husbands, considering how similar Orlando and Magnus are. They may be the two princesses here that were born into the lifestyle, but judging from their flushed cheeks, glossy eyes, and happy smiles, they’re relishing the chance to just be normal.
Then there’s Magnus. Oh Magnus. He keeps heading outside with the shovel, like he’s a giant kid in a sandbox, constantly shoveling away snow from the cabin, then coming back inside to drink a couple of beers with the boys.
Orlando keeps pace with him, though he does get a bit sloppy and starts dancing on the coffee table once the first bottle of champagne is opened. I find it highly entertaining, even though Stella looks like she’s ready to crawl under the couch and never come out.
My Viktor stays relatively sober out of solidarity for me, but also because I know he has a hangover that won’t quite go away. He’s been helping me with the food, since someone needs to feed these poor fools. Here’s the thing about royals that I’ve discovered: they’re all damn helpless. That’s what they get for being waited on hand and foot since the day they were born. They didn’t come out of the womb with a silver spoon in their mouths, that utensil was made of diamonds.
Thus, it’s up to someone like me, who grew up in California in a dead-end town, in a house where we didn’t have much money, who had to raise her siblings after our parents were killed, to keep these people fed and satisfied.
Unfortunately for them, we don’t have a lot of cooking options in a cabin like this, so in the end Viktor and I settle on hot dogs. Sure, they’re like reindeer dogs, since that’s all the rage here in Scandinavia, but it’s still a cheap and easy dinner. They’re all so drunk though, I don’t think they’ll complain.
Finally, there’s Aksel.
And lo and behold, the King of Denmark is getting drunk.
It’s a Festivus miracle!
He’s been quite the social butterfly, going from group to group, talking to everyone and making sure they’re okay. He’s come into the kitchen to check on me and Viktor so many times, he’s started to remind me of Leslie Neilson in Airplane. I am this close to calling him Shirley.
But it’s nice to see him happy, and the more he drinks, the more publicly affectionate he’s being with Aurora too, pulling her to him, groping her, kissing her. You know, all in a very dignified way, but still. Suddenly I feel sorry for the other two couples who have to share this cabin with them tonight.
Meanwhile, the snow keeps falling. Magnus is keeping in touch with the bodyguards down the mountain who are trying to clear the path, and though part of me is a little concerned about being snowed in here for too long, especially being pregnant, for the most part everyone seems to have forgotten.
When dinner is over, the drinking continues.
Aurora puts on Lizzo.
Then Orlando decides to have a dance competition between the men, which builds in hilarity until the crescendo: Aksel tries twerking.
I have never laughed so fucking hard in my life and I am so thankful that his wife had her phone out, recording every single move. If that video was ever released, it would put Magnus’ sex tape to shame.
Time continues to tick toward midnight.
I’m starting to get sleepy, and by eleven-thirty I’m not sure I can make it. I doze off on the couch a few times, despite the loud music and the laughing and the yelling and the occasional bursts of impromptu dancing.
“Almost there, my Maggie,” Viktor whispers in my ear.
I jerk my head awake and look around. He smells like pot. I wrinkle my nose and look at him. His eyes are red and glazed. “Who did you just get high with?”
“Who do you think?”
I look across the room at Magnus who is tearing into a bag of chips like some ravenous beast. Ah.
“Come on,” Viktor says, pulling me up to my feet. “Dance with me.”
I laugh as he does his best to put his arms around me. “This isn’t dancing Viktor, this is waddling.”
“Then waddle with me,” he says, smiling down at me. Boy, is he ever stoned. But the way he’s looking at me makes me feel like I’m more beautiful than ever.
“I can’t wait to meet our baby,” he whispers to me, leaning in to kiss me on the cheek.
I grip him tight, my stomach filled with butterflies. God I love this man. My prince. “Me too.”
“Hey, party hat time!” Aurora shouts, ruining the moment as she puts the plastic hats on us and hands us our glasses. We slip them on, laughing.
I take a moment to look at everyone else in the room. They’ve all taken our cue and are dancing with each other, each one of them stinking drunk and cute as can be.
“Are you ready?” Magnus yells, holding up his phone which is showing a countdown to the new year. “Ten!”
“Nine!”
“Eight!”
“Seven!”
“Six!”
“Five!”
“Four!”
“Three!”
“Two!”
“One!”
“Happy New Year!” we all scream together, blowing our party horns and cheering.
“Happy New Year, Maggie,” Viktor says to me before kissing me long and soft on the lips.
Chapter 5
Aksel
“Happy New Year!”
The cabin explodes in a cacophony
