Earning the Love of a Princess-Chapter 218: Resurrection

William inhaled sharply.

Camilla dropped the cap to the floor. She raised her shaking hand to repeatedly tap the man in front of her lightly on the shoulder, as if afraid he was just a vision. "Is it really you?" her voice wavered.

"Yes, sister. It is truly me." The merchant smiled and gently took her hands in his. "I’m no ghost, I promise. It just took me a very long time to reach you."

Camilla touched his neatly bearded cheek and burst into tears. The two slowly embraced as Malcolm lowered his head to whisper soothing words in her ear.

William cursed under his breath in disbelief, momentarily forgetting his small son was in his arms. His eyes couldn’t stop flicking between the two siblings, couldn’t stop staring in amazement at the similarities between them.

The smiling red headed boy that William had retained vague memories of was now a strong, broad shouldered man with amber coloured eyes. He shared the same high cheekbones and full lips as his younger sister.

William finally cleared his throat, wondering if he should speak up or if he would just be interrupting a sacred moment between siblings. He shifted the toddler, who was almost asleep, over to his other arm.

Camilla finally pulled away from Malcolm’s embrace and looked at William, quickly swiping at her eyes with the edge of her trailing sleeve. "Uh, husband. This is my brother Malcolm, who I’ve told you so much about."

William raised his eyebrows and nodded slightly at the man before him. 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

"Mal, this is my husband, William Devon." Camilla continued with what William were sure were the most awkward, stilted introductions ever. "And that’s our son he’s carrying."

Malcolm gave William a quick, appraising look, as sharp as a razor. He then turned to Camilla with an incredulous expression. "I can’t believe you’re a married woman. And a mother, no less! It’s...it’s beyond what my mind can comprehend." Malcolm shook his head in disbelief, but his gaze softened when looked at the baby in William’s arms. "Is that really your child?"

Camilla gently took the child into her arms and handed him over for her brother to carry. "I named him after you." she said softly.

Malcolm smiled as he cradled his little namesake and studied the face. "He’s lovely but I’m very sorry. Your boy is pure Islian! I’m see nothing of you in him!" He flashed a impish grin at his sister.

Camilla rolled her eyes at his teasing. "Yes, yes, that’s what everyone says. If I didn’t remember his birth so clearly, I’d swear he wasn’t my child either."

Malcolm continued peering at the toddler’s face quietly. William couldn’t hold his tongue any longer.

"The day of the battle...how did you manage to escape?" he blurted out. "I had it on good authority that you, errr, met your end..."

"Hung from a tree in the forest next to Arlen Castle?" Malcolm finished the sentence for him. "Yes, I heard that rumour too. And it’s a rather strange thing to hear people openly discussing your death, I’ll tell you that."

"If you managed to escape, what about our brothers?" Camilla asked, eyes wide with hope. "Did Duncan and Daniel also-"

Malcolm quickly shook his head and interrupted gently. "No, sister. They’re truly gone. I saw them both felled in battle with my own eyes. It was the reason I stopped fighting and just gave up. I was too grieved. And I didn’t want to be the heir to a throne I’d never sought."

Camilla nodded silently, the hope in her eyes snuffed out. The pain on Malcolm’s face was unmistakable.

"But how exactly did you escape? Where have you been hiding all this time? And how did you know to find me here?" she asked.

Malcolm smiled. "That’s a lot of questions. It’ll take me a little while to answer them all."

Camilla picked up the hem of her long skirt and darted to the presence chamber doors. She locked them, then turned to stare at her brother. "Well then, you’d better make yourself comfortable and start talking."

Malcolm chuckled, then eased himself down onto a couch while still holding the toddler. "You’ve always been determined to get your way, haven’t you?"

William snorted, then interrupted. "Wait. Before my wife plies you with all her questions, would you like something to eat or drink?"

"I ate not long ago. But I wouldn’t turn you down for a drink." Malcolm replied.

William poured Malcolm a cup of ale, which was gulped down quickly. William then set the ale jug and more cups on a table next to the couch, settled himself down in an armchair across from Malcolm and stared at him through narrowed eyes.

"You have a fair amount of explaining to do, don’t you? Shall we begin?" he asked the Moraigthian prince.

- - -

With Camilla next to him on the couch and a toddler fast asleep against his chest, Malcolm began to recall what had happened at Arlen Castle more than three years ago. He talked about his horror of seeing his brothers taken down on the battlefield, both fighting desperately until the very end.

"I didn’t know what had happened to Father by then, but I didn’t hold great hopes he’d succeed in defending the castle. And even if he had succeeded, with Duncan and Daniel gone, it meant I was the next heir. I would’ve rather died than face that."

William looked at him in astonishment. He then remembered a conversation he’d had with Camilla long ago, when she’d first been nominated as her uncle’s heiress by the Moraigthian lords. She’d shied away from the crown as well.

What was wrong with these Stephenson children?

Malcolm noticed William’s stare and replied. "I know exactly what you’re thinking. But the Moraigthian throne is one steeped in blood and sorrow. It’s nothing but unlucky. I’d rather have a long life of peace and luck, than a short one as a miserable king."

"So how did you escape?" Camilla asked softly.

"There was a young knight in our ranks named Owen Milne who was my height and had red hair like me. In fact, several of my men used to tease us about our resemblance. He agreed to swap breastplates with me."

William recalled that the royal men of Moraigth had specially decorated breastplates, elaborately engraved with their coat of arms in a large size. William had never understood the logic of making yourself such an obvious target on the battlefield but knew better than to point that out.

Instead, William said, "If your side had defied the odds and been victorious, you realise a mere knight could’ve ended up declared king that day? The men might have crammed Kenneth’s crown onto your man’s head."

Malcolm shook his head sadly. "Oh, I knew we weren’t going to be victorious at that point. Don’t you ever have that sense, even before victory or defeat has been confirmed? Don’t you ever have that feeling of just knowing how the battle will turn out?"

"Yes." William conceded.

"When I asked Sir Owen for his help, he knew it was only because our cause was lost. He knew it was my best chance at escape. And knowing all the risks, he agreed to help me anyway." Malcolm swallowed thickly. "When I heard the following day of his demise, of how he’d given up his life so that I could live, the guilt was overwhelming. It still haunts me."

William was reminded of the sick feeling that would hit him every time he thought of Joan Marcel. Some deaths were harder to bear than others.

"I took refuge deep in the forest, managing to climb one of the trees." Malcolm smirked briefly. "I knew the Islians wouldn’t spend much time searching because they all believed me dead and also because of the ridiculous legend about the forests around Arlen being haunted."

Little Malcolm stirred against his uncle’s chest and briefly opened his eyes, before promptly drifting off to asleep again.

The older Malcolm gently patted his little back and continued talking. "The next day, after scouring the ruins for hours for any survivors, I gave up hope of finding anyone left alive. There were so many dead bodies that...anyway. I hacked off all my hair as short as I could without cutting my scalp, and started to make my way out of Arlington on foot. I decided I would head west, concealing myself in forests as much as possible."

"Why west?" Camilla asked.

"Because I knew I had to leave Moraigth, leave the continent if possible. I figured the best way to achieve this was to make my way west until I reached the ocean and could find my way onto one of the merchant ships to Al Biscay."

"Al Biscay?" Camilla yelped. She hurriedly explained to William, "That is our mother’s country."

"It seemed my best chance for survival." Malcolm said. "To go somewhere far enough where I wouldn’t be recognised and where I might find kin to aid me."