21 March, 1361. South of Magdaline Castle, Islia
The rest of the journey north to join the court passed Camilla by in a blur of lancholy thoughts. She couldn’t shake the sadness in her soul. As much as she tried not to think about Ned’s demise, her mind kept drifting back and torturing her, trying to imagine what his last monts would have been like.
The thought of him venturing out to the creek and carefully filling his clothing with rocks, made her want to curl up into a ball and sob until her tears ran out. Had he been frightened facing death or had he been resigned to his fate? Maybe he had even approached it with acceptance in his heart?
Camilla fervently hoped Ned was now at peace and not stuck in so awful purgatory.
She hated to let herself cry uncontrollably in front of William, not wanting to burden him when he already had so many other matters to occupy his ti. But that night, in the manor ho of so minor earl where they were spending the night after another day on horseback, Camilla ended up lying in William’s arms again as her tears stread and her throat closed up. He quietly stroked her hair as she morphed into a sniffling, puffy eyed ss.
"Sorry." she whispered between sobs. "I know I’m not the best company right now."
"There’s nothing to be sorry about." he replied as he carefully wiped one of her cheeks, then the other. "You have every right to grieve about how things ended. Poor Ned deserved better but happiness doesn’t always go to those that most deserve it. I don’t know why."
"But I didn’t even cry this hard when I was told my brothers had died." she managed to squeak out from her aching throat. "I think back then, I was just numb. Now I can feel everything and I wish I didn’t. It would be easier to be numb again."
She both heard and felt William sigh against her. "Don’t wish for that, my love. It’s no way to live. I tried for a long ti to feel nothing...but you’re better off in the long run to just let yourself feel everything that life throws our way. Both the good and the terrible."
Camilla gulped a shuddering breath, unable to breathe through her blocked up nose. Her face pressed to William’s shoulder again, as a jumble of disjointed thoughts and the faces of those long lost flooded her mind. Who was she crying uncontrollably for - was it just Ned? Her beloved brothers? Her treasonous yet wonderful father?
Or was she crying for herself - the displaced girl who’d refused to let herself weep in front of an enemy court? Whose stubborn pride had ant she’d stared them all down with a polite smile on her face, refusing to let them find out that her heart was well and truly broken from loss?
She had been too scared and overwheld to properly grieve back then, scared that if she let herself truly feel what she’d lost, she would drown in it. Scared that it would make her a target of even more mockery from the suspicion Islians. All she let herself focus on was survival, day after day.
And if she was brutally honest, she refused to be seen as a weak, broken girl by the cold eyed prince that had rescued her but looked at her as if she were a speck of mud on his best shirt. She refused to give him her tears.
The very sa prince who was now holding her and whispering soothingly in her ear as she shook with sobs uncontrollably.
The irony would’ve made her laugh any other ti.
In that mont though, all she could do was endure the wave of her sorrow and wait for it to eventually crash upon her. Her heart felt like it had been cracked and splintered open, leaving her raw.
Eventually, her sobs subsided to sniffles and then, embarrassingly, hiccups. Camilla felt a bone deep exhaustion blanket her. She pulled back slightly from William and rubbed her achy eyes.
He was looking at her, brow furrowed. "Tell about them."
"About who?"
"Your brothers. You very rarely ntion them so I know next to nothing about them, but I know you were close." he said. "I can rember Malcolm had red hair but that’s all. So I want to hear about them."
Camilla gave him a tentative smile and began to sift through mories she’d tried to suppress for years. For a little while at least, she would let her brothers live on through her words.
- - -
William listened intently as the words began to hesitatingly spill from her lips.
The more she whispered, the more the Stephenson princes slowly ca to life before his eyes. Camilla’s quiet voice described a trio of doting brothers but with each young man having his own distinct personality.
William thought he likely would’ve gotten along best with Daniel, the middle brother who had been both a deep thinker and an exceptional archer. Sothing about his quiet, logical manner made him think of Francis Lowell. All their lives, Francis had often been the voice of reason amongst their cluster of hot headed friends.
William probably would’ve sparred and competed the hardest with Malcolm, given they had been so close in age. Malcolm sounded like he would’ve been the type to fight hard in the heat of the mont but laugh it all off quickly afterwards, having been rry and forgiving in nature.
The eldest brother and heir, Duncan, sounded frankly terrifying. He’d grown to tower over even Duke Robert himself and had struggled to rein in his fierce warriorlike temper.
"Father always used to tell Duncan that a ruler who couldn’t keep a tether on his own emotions in a crisis, was dood." Camilla reminisced quietly. "Duncan hated hearing that but at the sa ti, he knew it was true. And he got better at controlling his outbursts as he grew older. Who knows what kind of king he would’ve eventually been? He was only three and twenty when he was killed."
"Such a waste. War is nothing but waste." William muttered. "Then again, perhaps it’s best I never crossed paths with him. I doubt he’d have thanked for marrying his sister. Probably would’ve disemboweled for my efforts."
"Oh, I don’t know. I think with ti, my brothers would’ve all learned to tolerate you."
William snorted. "Tolerate ? Really? That sounds promising."
Camilla’s mouth curved into a tiny smile. "If they’d known I was happy, I think that would’ve been good enough for them. And I am."
"I think they would’ve still wanted to tear my throat out." William smiled back. "Don’t deny it."
"I rember being so angry with them all after they died. With Father for leading the uprising and with my brothers for letting themselves be swept up by his cause, especially the two eldest. Everyone was so confident they were on the right side of justice, that their cause was divinely blessed. It’s like no one ever stopped to think about what defeat would look like."
William nodded slowly. "To be fair, that is a soldier’s mindset. You’ve got to give everything you have to the battle in front of you. There’s no room for what ifs. If you dwell on the chances of defeat for even a mont, you’re lost. You can only fight with conviction, if you see victory as the only possible outco. Does that make sense?"
"It does, actually. I’d never thought of it that way. I just rember hating them for throwing their lives away and leaving behind." Camilla frowned. "And then I’d feel horribly guilty about being angry at them, when they were dead and couldn’t even explain their reasons to . Isn’t that awful?"
"Not really. I think we’ve all been angry at the dead at so point in our lives." William brushed away a tear clinging to her lashes. "And in this case, your anger was justified. Their loss was your loss as well, even when you had nothing to do with the rebellion. Good people make unwise decisions all the ti."
"Well, I felt like a terrible person for it. I think I was angriest at Malcolm because he thought Father was wrong, but he felt like he had no choice but to join in the fray." Camilla shuddered. "And now I’m so angry at Ned for throwing his life away. Then again if he truly wanted to die, he had the right to do what he wanted, didn’t he? I tell myself it’s selfish to want Ned to still be alive, only to spare from having to mourn him."
"Do you feel a little better now that you’ve gotten all of that out?" William looked at her flushed, tear streaked face and kissed the tip of her nose.
She closed her eyes and nodded. "I’m just tired now."
"Sleep then, pretty girl. Tomorrow is another day, hopefully a better one. And tomorrow you’ll finally see another Malcolm that you love."
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