The Storm Passes

30 May, 1359. Westerhaven Palace, Islia

William rubbed his aching eyes with his hand and exhaled. His cheek was still pressed against Camilla's chest and he could feel the steady beat of her heart, which was strangely soothing. At some point that he couldn't remember, he must have pulled her onto his lap. He didn't know how much time he'd spent sobbing like a baby but she had sat silently the entire time, stroking his hair as every drop of bitterness and betrayal he'd tried to suppress rushed through his veins.

Now, there was nothing left but quiet.

Part of William felt embarrassed at breaking down like that, something that hadn't happened in years. He hadn't even wept at his father's death. This was exactly what he's been trying to avoid her seeing. 

Another, larger part of him though, felt a sense of peace. A profound feeling of calm after letting go of everything that had been building up for weeks.