Earning the Love of a Princess-Chapter 221: Childhood Things

"This must be one of those childhood things, am I right?" Malcolm asked.

"What? A childhood thing?" William muttered. "What the fuck does that even mean?"

"Do you remember when Camilla and I visited Islia with our father, many summers ago? In fact, I believe it was this very castle."

William blinked, not following the sudden change in their conversation’s direction. "Yes, somewhat. Why?"

"Do you remember her in particular?" Malcolm kept prodding.

"A little. She was very young, though." William made his tone as nonchalant as possible.

Malcolm started sniggering. "And yet, you still watched her."

"What are you talking about?" William desperately tried to stop himself from turning red.

Merciless, Malcolm continued. "I remember that you watched her nonstop, back then. You were a moody little son of a bitch who never smiled and seemed annoyed with everything. Even Father commented on it. And yet, you couldn’t keep yourself from looking at my sister. So that’s why I’m asking if you wanting to marry her was because of one of those childhood obsessions."

"No. It’s isn’t like that at all." William hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And by the way, I remember things a little differently than you."

"Then what’s it like? Explain this all to me."

"I just...I love her." William sighed. "I can’t explain it. She just....ah, fuck. She is everything to me. I can’t be without her." He could feel himself turning a vivid shade of crimson. "I can’t even believe I’m talking to another man about this. It’s humiliating. But she has my heart and soul, alright?"

Malcolm stared at him, then eventually nodded and relaxed his shoulders. "Alright. I believe you. Well, more like I believe my own eyes. She glows with happiness."

"Any other embarrassing questions you wish to ask me, while you’re at it?" William asked under his breath.

"I’ll be sure to let you know if any other come to mind. And be glad you’re only facing my questions. Had they been with me, Duncan and Daniel would’ve torn you to strips."

William briefly pictured his death at the hands of the three Stephenson brothers. "Tell Camilla I’ll be back shortly, after I’ve arranged for our dinner." he said wearily.

William walked in the direction of the rooms where Casimir and several other pages resided.

- - -

Pages arrived within the hour to serve dinner to the prince and princess in their presence chamber, given their alleged illness.

Malcolm hid in the dressing room while the pages were there so that if Casimir asked, William could tell him he’d simply sent the Haviettenese merchant on his way from the palace.

Camilla left briefly to check on little Malcolm in his nursery and kiss him good night, leaving her husband and brother in the presence chamber alone in awkward silence. When she returned, she bolted the door locked behind her, then settled back down on the couch to eat.

However, she wasn’t very hungry, picking at a small portion and preferring to leave most of the dinner to the others. Between William and Malcolm, the food was devoured quickly.

Instead, Camilla observed the two men she adored and the stilted air between them. She didn’t like it but at the same time, she knew she couldn’t just expect them to just fall into each other’s arms and embrace like brothers. William was incredibly possessive. And Malcolm...

Malcolm had been raised all his life to consider the Islians his rivals. It would be very hard for him to accept that not only had she married into the family responsible for his kin’s downfall, but she had married for love.

It would take time for all of them to adjust. But to see Malcolm again, as if brought back from the dead, was nothing short of a miracle to her.

- - -

After the dinner plates were removed, Camilla slid off her high heeled shoes and tucked herself on the couch, clearly settling herself in for a long night of catching up with her brother. Malcolm stretched his long legs out in front of him, clearly relaxed after good food and wine.

William regarded the Moraigthian man quietly, seeing the physical features he shared with his late father and even with his hated uncle. If anyone discovered his existence, no doubt Malcolm would be declared heir to the throne by the Council of Moraigthian Lords, knocking Kenneth’s young daughter from the spot.

And yet, he didn’t want the throne, had actually fled from it. What had he earlier said he wanted instead - a long life of peace and luck?

What odd creatures these siblings were. And also rather wise, William admitted to himself. Still, he couldn’t resist pressing the issue a little.

"You heard that your king had a son born over a year ago, but the child died?" he asked Malcolm.

"Yes, word reached me of it. And I also heard his shrew of a queen has recently given birth to another daughter. So the king now has two little girls, no boys." Malcolm gave a low chuckle. "I can only imagine my uncle’s despair. He’s one who’ll never understand that all children are blessings."

William shrugged. "If you return to Moraigth, you wouldn’t even have to challenge your uncle. All the lords would immediately declare you his heir and he wouldn’t be able to stop it."

Malcolm threw his head back and laughed. "Fuck. Can you even imagine my reception if I were to announce my return? Half the country would shower me in rose petals. The other half would be baying for my blood. It would be nothing but more civil war. What a disaster."

William raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Why would half of them oppose you? Even if Queen Antonia has a boy tomorrow, wouldn’t most of the lords throw their support behind a grown man over a baby?"

"Because I’m the son of a duke who was both loved and hated. And because some lords would actually prefer a baby who can be controlled by a regency council, instead of a man who refuses to be bullied. Moraigth is deeply divided now."

"But hasn’t it always been a divided country?" William argued. "At least, that’s what I was told."

"Yes, to some degree." Malcolm replied. "Having so many petty lords picking quarrels along kin lines has never exactly fostered unity. But the deep fractures that you see now are the result of our father and uncle tearing the country in two over their own selfish desires. And I blame both of them equally for that." The Moraigthian man sighed deeply. "I loved Father very much, he had many excellent qualities. But he was also a flawed man."

"A very charming one, nonetheless." William mumbled, still thinking of the duke’s kindness to him, when no one else had paid much attention to the sad child he’d once been.

"Yes, he was charming." Malcolm agreed wistfully. "And that was the problem, I suppose. He was so charming and warm and persuasive, that to know him was to be willing to brave open flames just to be on his side. He was the exact opposite of his brother. If Father had been born the eldest son, Moraigth would now likely be a peaceful, united country. But he wasn’t."

There was a lull in the conversation.

"Remember when you and Daniel stole Father’s favourite bow to use for archery practice? And then the two of you had some scuffle over it and ended up snapping it?" Camilla piped up suddenly, clearly wanting to talk of happier things.

"I’m sure you found that amusing. Duncan certainly did." Malcolm winced, then laughed at the memory. "Father rarely raised his hand to us but I certainly remember that beating. And it wasn’t even worth it! Daniel won every single round. I think that’s why I started the scuffle, actually."

"I don’t recall Father ever striking me." Camilla said thoughtfully.

"Well, of course not. He would’ve rather cut his own hands off!" Malcolm shook his head. "It was most unfair, especially as often you were the worst behaved out of all of us."

Camilla scowled at him. "I resent that comment."

William quietly listened as the siblings laughed and reminisced. Apart from the early death of Duchess Isabella, it sounded like a rather idyllic childhood that they’d shared.

Then he remembered what Camilla told him about being forced to spend their summers at court, alongside their hated monarchs. Malcolm would’ve probably seen even more of the cruelty of the Moraigthian court than Camilla.

There is no such thing as an idyllic childhood, William mused. Perhaps his own small son would end up luckier.

Sometime after midnight, William stumbled to his feet and decided to head to bed. He kissed Camilla on the forehead and bid her good night, then paused to look at the two of them one last time before entering the bedchamber.

There was something sweet about the way they whispered and laughed amongst themselves, like young children. He doubted either would get any sleep.