The Acting Crown Prince’s Resolve

The decision that William II had made regarding Oscar left him both bitter and disillusioned. He had imagined this moment for years, the moment when he would ascend to the throne and claim his rightful place as the Crown Prince. But never in his wildest dreams had he expected that the title would come with the word "acting" attached to it. It was as if William II was still holding on to the hope that his eldest son, Prince William, might recover and reclaim his position.

Oscar, now bearing the weight of the crown that he had long desired, knew all too well the precariousness of his situation. He had been handed the title only out of necessity, not out of respect for his abilities. William II had made it clear—his true heir, in the emperor's eyes, would always be his firstborn, no matter how flawed he was. It didn't matter that Oscar had proven himself time and time again, outshining his elder brother in both intelligence and strength. In the end, blood was thicker than competence. Prince William's absence was only temporary, and once he awoke, Oscar was certain that his position would be stripped away, as if it had never been his to begin with.

The more Oscar thought about it, the more it gnawed at him. All his life, he had been treated as second best. Even with his unmatched skills and vision, he had always been overshadowed by his older brother. And now, even though he was the one with the greater potential to lead the empire into a new era, he was reduced to being a mere placeholder. He was a stopgap—nothing more.

But Oscar had learned long ago that the world was an unfair place. He could lament all he wanted, but that wouldn't change a thing. He had no choice but to play along, at least for now. If he rejected the title of Acting Crown Prince, he would offend William II beyond repair, and his chance at power would slip through his fingers. Worse still, he would be cast aside, forgotten. There was no room for weakness in the game of thrones, and right now, the only card he had was to accept what had been given to him.

"Very well, Father," Oscar said, his voice calm but filled with a quiet anger that he did not allow to show on his face. "I have no objections. After all, the Crown Prince position was always intended for my elder brother. I'm merely taking care of it for him temporarily, as you said."

William II nodded in approval, a faint smile crossing his lips. Oscar could see the satisfaction in his father's eyes, and it disgusted him. William II was pleased that Oscar, in his humility, accepted the role with grace. To Oscar, however, it felt more like a trap—one that would eventually close around him when his father felt the time was right.

"Oscar," William II spoke again, his voice suddenly becoming more serious, "I am very pleased with your response. It shows maturity. But remember this—this position is not given lightly. The empire needs a strong and capable leader. I expect you to prove yourself. You have the potential to be more than just a placeholder. I believe you may inherit the throne sooner than my firstborn. But if you're to do so, you must make yourself indispensable."

Oscar knew that William II was trying to motivate him, trying to plant the idea that this position could become permanent if Oscar earned it. But Oscar was no fool. He knew that his father's promises were empty words, meant only to keep him complacent. Oscar didn't need William II's encouragement. He needed power—and he would get it, one way or another. The fact that his father seemed to think Oscar could be manipulated with a few kind words only fueled his desire to claim the throne for himself.

"Yes, Father," Oscar responded, though in his heart, he was already calculating his next moves. He had no intention of spending his life as a puppet, no matter what his father believed.

William II, oblivious to the storm brewing within his son, continued with a tone of finality, "You'll need to prove yourself capable of leadership, Oscar. You must show the empire that you are not merely a substitute. The moment I die, the throne will be yours. But until then, I need you to hold the fort. And if anything goes wrong, you must be prepared to take the reins."

Oscar's thoughts darkened as he thought of the chaos that might arise. The power struggles within the empire were far from over. While Oscar had the support of many ministers and factions, his other brothers—his second, third, and fourth brothers—were still very much a threat. Before Prince William's accident, they had been kept in check by the fear of his wrath. But now that their elder brother was incapacitated, it was only a matter of time before their ambitions resurfaced.

"Father," Oscar said, his voice now tinged with genuine concern, "What about the other princes? They are still in line for the throne, and some of them might see this as an opportunity to challenge me. I'm sure they'll not be content to sit idly by."

William II's expression darkened at the mention of his other sons. He clearly had little regard for them. "Hmph! Those ignorant fools! They wouldn't even know what to do with the throne if it was handed to them on a silver platter. They're nothing but parasites, waiting for the old man to die. If they dare to challenge you, I will make sure they regret it. Don't worry about them. They're not a threat."

Oscar nodded but felt uneasy. He knew that, while William II was powerful, he wasn't invincible. The empire was a delicate structure, and there were always those who would try to disrupt the status quo. Oscar needed to be prepared for any eventuality, especially if he was to take control of the throne one day.

"Father, I trust you," Oscar said, though his mind was already far from the palace. "But I also need to be prepared for what lies ahead. How do we deal with the legalities of succession? There will surely be those who question my right to the throne, even if I am only the acting Crown Prince."

William II waved off his concerns. "Leave that to me. The law is a tool, Oscar. And I know how to bend it to my will. No one will dare question your position as long as I am alive. You are my son, and the empire will follow my will."

Oscar didn't respond immediately. He knew that his father's influence was vast, but it wasn't limitless. Even the emperor had enemies, and once he was gone, the game would change. It would be up to Oscar to navigate the shifting allegiances and secure his place in history.

The conversation shifted to discussions about the future, the responsibilities of being Crown Prince, and the empire's needs. Oscar sat silently, absorbing his father's words but dismissing them as mere formalities. His mind was already working on his own strategy, plotting the moves he would make to ensure his success.

After two long hours, Oscar rose to take his leave. The night air was cold as he stepped outside the palace. He could feel the weight of the decision he had made—accepting the title of Acting Crown Prince—but he was far from satisfied. He had bigger plans, plans that would not be shaped by his father's will.

As he walked through the dark streets, his fists clenched, determination burning in his chest. "I will take this throne. I will make it mine," Oscar muttered under his breath. "This empire, my destiny, they all belong to me. No more compromises. No more second-guessing. From now on, I will make my own future."

Oscar was no longer just a prince in waiting. He had tasted the power of the throne, and now he was prepared to seize it. His mind was set—he would stop at nothing to ensure that the crown would never slip from his grasp. And with each passing day, his resolve grew stronger, for he knew that the only way to succeed in this world was to play the game with no hesitation, no fear, and no mercy.