A/N: A really long chap
Word count: 3.45K
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I sat at our worn wooden table, staring at my mother as she finished explaining everything.
I listened patiently, nodding at the right moments, widening my eyes in just the right way. An eight-year-old boy should have been shocked at this revelation. He should have been confused, awed, maybe even scared.
I was none of those things.
Because in another life, I had been in this exact situation. Different people. Different circumstances.
Same story.
I should have expected it. My mother had always carried herself with a quiet grace, a dignity that didn't match the life of a simple seamstress. The way she spoke, the way she carried herself, the way she looked at people—not down on them, but with the gentle weight of experience, wisdom, and responsibility.
Still, I had to play the part.
My eyes widened dramatically. "So… you're really a princess?"
Mom sighed, rubbing her temples. "Technically, a queen."
I let my mouth fall open. "And I'm…" I pointed to myself with exaggerated slowness. "A prince?"
She winced. "Yes."
I took a moment to let out a deep, over-the-top gasp, clutching my chest. I blinked rapidly, as if my tiny little brain was struggling to comprehend this bombshell revelation.
"But—but—but that means I'm rich?!" Mom pinched the bridge of her nose. "That is not the main takeaway here."
"No, no, I get it! Super serious stuff. King. Queen. Knights. Big scary politics. But also—rich!"
She stared at me for a long moment.
I could see it. The way she was torn between scolding me for not taking things seriously and laughing because, deep down, she knew I was still her Camden.
Eventually, she just sighed. "You're impossible." That meant I won.
Once the teasing passed, we settled into real discussion.
I wasn't stupid. I saw the knights outside our village, their armor gleaming under torchlight as they waited. They wouldn't leave without us.
And if we didn't go willingly… things could get ugly. I wouldn't let that happen.
This was my home. These people—our people—had protected my mother when she fled. When she was alone, scared, and carrying me in her arms, they gave her safety.
I refused to let them suffer because of us. So I did something I hadn't done in three years. I acted my true age. [A/N Actual spiritual age]
I looked my mother in the eye, my voice soft but firm.
"We have to go."
She stiffened.
I reached out, placing my small hands over hers. "If we stay, the king will send more men." I gestured outside. "More knights. And if the villagers keep protecting us, things will turn ugly."
Her expression darkened. I knew she was thinking the same thing.
She had spent eight years making this village her home, shielding me from a world of royal duties and unwanted burdens. She had no love for the man she once married, no desire to return to the life she left behind.
But she loved these people and she loved me. That's why, after a long silence, she finally nodded.
"We leave at dawn."
...
The next morning, the village gathered to see us off.
Martha the baker squeezed my cheeks until they ached, forcing a bag of warm pastries into my hands. The old miller, who had always snuck me extra flour whenever I tried to help bake, ruffled my hair.
The blacksmith—who had once threatened to tan my hide when I nearly set his forge on fire—clasped my shoulders with pride. Dear old Elias, the village chief gave me a tearful hug and a smack on the head.
Just for old times sake he said.
And then there was Ruby. She stood at the front of the crowd, arms crossed, her hazel eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
I approached her with a lopsided grin. "You're gonna miss me, huh?"
She scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself."
But the moment I got close enough, she lunged forward and hugged me tight.
"I hate you," she grumbled into my shoulder.
I laughed. "Love you too." We stayed like that for a moment before she pulled back, giving me a mock glare.
"If you come back with some fancy accent and a royal stick up your butt, I'll personally throw you into the river."
"Noted."
Then, with one last ruffle of her hair, I turned and climbed onto Star. I took one last look at the village—the place I had called home for eight years.
Then, with my mother beside me, we rode away.
The road ahead stretched long and winding, the rising sun casting golden light on the dewdrop-covered grass.
I rode Star at an easy pace, my mother's horse keeping stride beside us. The knights, led by Aldric, rode ahead and behind us, forming a loose escort.
But I had one last thing to do. As we neared the edge of the forest, I subtly veered Star off the road.
"Camden?" Mom called.
"Just a moment."
I trotted forward to a familiar tree—a massive, ancient oak that towered over the rest of the woods. The place where Paul and I would meet whenever I needed advice.
With a soft smile, I reached into my saddlebag and pulled out my axe.
The very same axe Paul Bunyan had given me when I first asked him to teach me how to be a man. For three years, it had been mine.
And now, I left it there.
I leaned it carefully against the roots of the great oak, positioning it in just the right way. Paul would find it. He would understand.
A silent message. A promise. I would come back one day. With that, I turned Star back toward the road. Mom raised an eyebrow as I rejoined her. "That was…?"
I just smiled. "A message for a friend."
She didn't push further.
And with that, we rode toward our future.
=.=.=
=.=
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The journey to Eldoria had begun, and I, Camden the Great (self-proclaimed), was going to make sure it was anything but boring.
From the moment we set out, I made it my personal mission to keep everyone entertained—whether they wanted it or not. The knights, who were all stiff-backed and serious, clearly thought escorting an eight-year-old would be an easy, uneventful task.
Ha!!.
They had no idea what they had just signed up for.
I rode alongside my mother on Star, swaying slightly in my saddle as I hummed a tune I had picked up from the fishermen.
Then, when the silence among the knights became too deafening for my liking, I sat up straight and belted out one of my favorite shanties.
🎶🎶~"Way, hay, roll and go!
The sea is high, the wind doth blow!
Sing, lads, sing, don't be slow!
For Eldoria we all shall go!"~🎶🎶
The knights nearly fell off their horses from the sudden outburst. Commander Aldric, who had been riding at the front, turned his head so fast I thought he might break his neck.
"What… was that?" he asked, looking both confused and mildly alarmed.
I smiled sweatly at him. "A sea shanty! Helps pass the time! Want to join?"
Aldric stared at me like I had spoken in an ancient, forgotten language. The other knights looked at each other, clearly unsure how to react. My mother sighed heavily.
"Camden, darling," she said, rubbing her temples, "perhaps not so loudly."
I pouted. "But it's a travel song! It boosts morale!"
One of the younger knights chuckled under his breath, but a glare from Aldric shut him up immediately. I took that as a challenge.
"Fine," I said dramatically. "If shanties aren't your thing, I'll go with a ballad." I cleared my throat and started singing an overly dramatic love song I had once heard in the village.
🎶🎶~"Oh, my love, my dearest one,
I wait for thee beneath the sun!
The waves may crash, the winds may call,
But none shall part my heart at all!"~🎶🎶
This time, several knights coughed to cover their laughter. Aldric looked like he was rethinking his entire career.
"I swear to the gods," he muttered.
After an hour of me cycling through different songs, Aldric seemed to give up on trying to silence me. I considered this a personal victory.
Once I had successfully worn them down with music, I decided to switch things up with some casual conversation.
"Hey, Sir Knight," I said, pulling up beside one of the older men in silver armor. "Do you guys ever get tired of wearing metal all day? Doesn't it chafe?"
The knight blinked at me. "Uh… well, we wear padding underneath—"
"But still! You must get super sweaty in there. Like a boiled potato. Have you ever cooked an egg inside your armor?"
"What? No—"
"Missed opportunity," I said, shaking my head. "Do you think if you ran fast enough, you'd sound like a bunch of pots and pans falling down the stairs?"
"W-what?"
I turned to another knight. "How come none of you have capes? I thought all knights wore capes."
"That's just in stories," the knight replied hesitantly.[A/N NO CAPES!]
"Well, that's disappointing," I said, crossing my arms. "What's the point of being a knight if you don't get a cool cape to dramatically throw over your shoulder?"
The knight opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if he didn't actually have a good answer. At some point, I turned to Aldric himself.
"Commander," I said seriously.
He sighed. "What now?"
"Hypothetically speaking, if a squirrel challenged you to a duel, would you accept?"
Aldric looked at me for a long time. "I… what?"
"You heard me," I said. "Would you fight a squirrel? Or would you yield and surrender your honor?"
A younger knight coughed violently into his gauntlet to keep from laughing. Aldric stared at me with a look that clearly screamed why me?
I continued. "Personally, I think a duel with a squirrel would be tricky. They're small, fast, and their bite is worse than their bark. Not that they bark, but you get my point."
Aldric exhaled through his nose, clearly regretting all his life choices that led him to this moment. "I am not dueling a squirrel."
"Coward," I muttered under my breath.
The young knight actually fell off his horse that time. And so the journey continued, filled with songs, questions, and absolute nonsense.
By the time we stopped to make camp for the night, even my mother looked exhausted—not from the travel, but from the sheer amount of secondhand embarrassment she had to endure.
Aldric, on the other hand, just looked like a man who had lived for too long.
.
.
Morning came with the soft hum of the waking forest. Birds chirped lazily from their perches, the sun peeked shyly through the trees, and a cool breeze rustled through the leaves. It was the perfect start to the day.
Naturally, I ruined it immediately.
I stretched as I sat up in my bedroll and loudly declared, "Another glorious day of adventure and mild chaos!"
The knights, still groggy from sleep, groaned collectively. Aldric looked up from where he was sharpening his sword. "Boy, I swear—"
"Good morning to you too, Commander!" I grinned, standing up and dusting myself off. My mother, already awake and brushing her horse, gave me a warning look. "Camden, remember our talk last night."
Right. Right. Be civil. Act dignified. Don't make the knights question their entire existence.
I could do that. Probably.
Breakfast was simple—bread, some cheese, and dried meat. I ate quickly, sensing the unspoken urgency among the knights. We were close to Eldoria now. The real journey was about to begin.
As we packed up camp and got back on our horses, I straightened my posture, adjusted my clothes, and did my best to look like a young prince instead of the absolute menace I had been for the past few days.
The change did not go unnoticed.
One of the knights whispered to another, "Is he… behaving?"
"Gods, I hope so."
Aldric, ever the suspicious one, narrowed his eyes at me. "No more questions about dueling squirrels?"
I shook my head. "No, sir."
"No ridiculous songs?"
"No, sir."
"No inquiries about armor-based egg cooking?"
"…No, sir."
Aldric squinted at me like I was trying to trick him, but I remained as dignified as an eight-year-old could be. My mother nodded approvingly. "Good boy."
I preened at the praise. See? I could behave when I wanted to.
The rest of the journey was surprisingly peaceful. Without my usual antics, the knights seemed more at ease. The ride was long, but the road to Eldoria was well-kept, and by midday, the dense forest gave way to rolling hills and open fields.
And then, finally, we saw it.
Eldoria.
The capital city stood tall and proud in the distance, surrounded by towering white stone walls that gleamed under the afternoon sun. The grand castle, nestled in the heart of the city, stretched high into the sky, its spires cutting into the clouds.
Banners of deep blue and gold fluttered from every tower.
It was… breathtaking.
I had seen grand cities before in my past lives, but there was something different about seeing this one with my own eyes.
The knights straightened their backs as we approached the gates. The guards, dressed in shining silver armor, immediately recognized Aldric and saluted him.
"Commander," one of them greeted. "The king has been expecting you."
I glanced at my mother. Her face was unreadable, but I could tell her hands had tightened slightly on the reins.
I reached out and squeezed her arm gently. She looked down at me, and for a brief moment, the tension in her shoulders eased. We entered the city.
Eldoria was lively. Merchants called out their wares, children ran through the streets laughing, and noblewomen walked gracefully along the cobblestone roads, their silk dresses shimmering in the sunlight.
The scent of fresh bread and roasted meat filled the air.
People paused as our group passed. Their eyes flickered to my mother, then to me. I could hear the whispers.
"Is that… the queen?"
Excitement and curiosity rippled through the crowd, but no one dared approach. The presence of the knights kept them at bay.
As we made our way through the city, I kept my face neutral, my back straight. I had spent the past three years playing in the dirt and chopping wood with Paul Bunyan—now I had to act like a prince.
Easier said than done.
Finally, we reached the castle gates.
The massive doors creaked open, revealing a grand entrance hall lined with marble pillars and golden chandeliers. The air smelled of polished wood and lavender. Servants stood at attention, their eyes wide as they took in the sight of my mother.
The head steward, an elderly man with sharp eyes, stepped forward. He bowed deeply.
"Your Majesty," he said, voice steady despite the clear emotion in his eyes. "Welcome home."
My mother hesitated for only a second before nodding. "Thank you."
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The grand doors of the throne room loomed ahead, tall and imposing, adorned with intricate golden carvings of Eldoria's history. The butler, an elderly man named Gregor, moved with a precision that only years of service could cultivate.
His posture was perfect, his steps measured, and his face was unreadable as he led us forward.
My mother walked beside me, her face calm but her hands clenched tightly at her sides. I could see the tension in the way she held her shoulders, the way her breathing was slightly more controlled than usual.
She had been preparing for this moment for years, yet even so, standing in front of him again was something else entirely.
I had my own suspicions about the man we were about to meet. I had heard of powerful kings before, cruel rulers, kind-hearted sovereigns, and everything in between.
But I had yet to see where Alistair Eldenhart would fall on that spectrum.
The doors were pulled open by two knights, revealing a room of sheer opulence.
The throne room was massive, built of pristine white marble with golden veins running through it. The banners of Eldoria, blue and gold, draped from towering pillars. A long, regal carpet of deep sapphire stretched from the doors to the thrones at the far end of the chamber.
And there they were.
The King sat atop his throne, regal and powerful, his icy blue eyes fixed on us with the weight of a thousand unspoken thoughts. He was a man in his early forties, with short brown hair and strands that framed his forehead.
A well-kept goatee lined his strong jaw, and though he wore the robes of a ruler, there was no mistaking the solid build underneath.
He had been a warrior once, and the sharpness in his gaze told me he still was.
Beside him, on a slightly smaller throne, sat her.
Louise Eldenhart.
She was breathtaking, with long, white braided hair that fell elegantly over her shoulder and eyes the same icy blue as the king's, though hers lacked warmth entirely. If the king's gaze was piercing, hers was cutting.
She was dressed immaculately in an embroidered gown of silver and blue, her posture flawless, her expression unreadable.
My mother's hands clenched tighter.
I didn't miss the way her gaze flickered to Louise, nor did I miss the way Louise's lips curled ever so slightly upward, just a ghost of a smirk.
Oh. Oh.
So that was how it was going to be.
Gregor bowed deeply before stepping aside. "Your Majesty, Your Grace. Presenting Lady Evelyne Wilder and the young master, Camden Wilder."
There was a pause.
A long, suffocating pause.
The king's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his gaze. His lips parted slightly, as if the name I had given was something unpleasant on his tongue.
Mother stepped forward and bowed deeply. "Your Majesty." Her voice was smooth, even, but there was an unmistakable stiffness in her tone. "It has been… quite some time."
Alistair leaned forward slightly, studying her as if trying to decide whether she was real or an illusion. "Indeed," he murmured, voice low and commanding. "8 years, to be exact."
Louise smiled slightly at that, her fingers idly playing with a silver ring on her hand. Mother straightened, her expression blank. Alistair's gaze then turned to me.
I met his eyes, unwavering.
"And you," he said, tilting his head slightly. "My son."
I did not bow.
Not out of defiance, but because I knew this moment required me to hold my ground. This was a game, and I had to play my role carefully.
"Camden Wilder," I said, voice clear. "It's a pleasure, Your Majesty."
Silence. Louise's expression did not falter, but I saw the slightest arch of her brow, amused. Alistair, however, was not amused.
His fingers drummed against the armrest of his throne. "Wilder?" His voice was soft, yet there was a dangerous edge beneath it. "You bear your mother's name?"
I tilted my head slightly, offering a polite, innocent smile. "Of course. It's the name I've always had."
Mother placed a hand on my shoulder, her touch firm but supportive. Alistair exhaled through his nose, the tension in the air thickening.
"You are my son," he stated, voice cool. "You bear my blood."
"Blood doesn't decide a name," I said, still smiling. "Names are given by those who raise us."
A beat of silence.
Aldric and the knights shifted slightly, their discomfort evident. The throne room was so quiet that I could hear the faint crackling of the torches on the walls.
Then, unexpectedly— a laugh. Not from the king but from Louise.
It was soft, almost delicate, but there was something sharp behind it, like a blade concealed in silk.
"My, my," she murmured, amusement dancing in her cold eyes. "What an… interesting young boy."
Her gaze flickered to my mother. "You've raised him well, Evelyne. He certainly has your spirit."
Mother's jaw tightened, but she did not respond. Alistair was not amused by Louise's reaction. His eyes were locked onto me, analyzing, calculating.
"You will not use that name here," he said at last, voice firm. "You are Camden Eldenhart."
I tilted my head again, my smile unwavering. "But I am Camden Wilder."
Alistair did not react immediately. Instead, he leaned back in his throne, exhaling slowly, as if reigning in whatever frustration I had just ignited.
Louise was watching everything with the keen interest of a spectator enjoying a well-crafted play. Alistair finally spoke again, his tone measured. "We have much to discuss."
I met his gaze head-on.
"Yes," I agreed, "we do."
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