Cicatrice

Chapter XXXIII

QUEEN ESTELLE BELSHAW

Nightmares.

Nightmares of Malcolm's dead, rotting body haunted my brain. Maggots crawling through his eye sockets, flies feeding on his decomposing face, making wet squelching sounds. I found myself waking up screaming almost every night, Eddie coming to soothe me by my side.

 Even now that he was deceased, he was still an absolute nuisance, and what had made it worse, father's one year anniversary was quickly approaching. 

Haunting. 

Marguerite never gave up on where his body now was. I suppose she never wanted us to worry about it, but I knew it was only a matter of time until the public began to suspect something. How long could I go without a husband? Without the public starting to hassle me about the whereabouts of Malcolm. It was a shame I genuinely didn't know. 

I always suffered the consequences. 

With my large, pregnant belly reaching nine months, I hadn't felt more attached to this baby than I did now. I had a premonition that this was Eddie's baby, and that sealed my suspicions. It would be loved the same way, and thats something I knew for sure. 

Finding myself strolling around downtown Toulouse, I window shop for baby clothes, attempting to get my mind off of things. These last nine months had been nothing but hectic, so I hadn't even thought about clothes or toys. I had not a clue about the gender of this baby either.

With the glass windows holding magnificent clothing, in beige, pink, blue, and yellow, I found myself struggling. I had never had to do anything like this before; I had always been stuck in my little world complaining about things that barely mattered, but now, I was having a child. 

Neither of my parents were here.

All I had was Eddie, Marguerite, and myself and somehow, that was enough. 

"Why, what a sight for sore eyes, your majesty," a familiar voice belonging to Victor Laurent appears out of almost nowhere- also recognised as Malcolm's father. With fire burning in his eyes, I could already tell this was a premeditated meeting.

"Hello, Mr Laurent, its a pleasure," I force a smile, curtsying to my former father-in-law. 

His blue beady eyes stare through my demeanour. I knew he knew something; that something wasn't right. He hadn't seen or heard from his son in a suspicious amount of time. With a fake smile plastered on his lips, I felt exposed.

"Why don't we cut the greetings, hm?" he sneers, the smile remaining on his wrinkly pink lips. 

My eyebrows knitted into a furrow, confusion crossing my face. "Where is Malcolm, Estelle?" he hisses, pulling me close as I can smell his cigarette-infused breath. "He never misses any of my letters, his crew haven't seen him in weeks," he bares his yellow teeth, his eyes full of fury. 

With tears welling up in my eyes, I try to signal to the guard that I was in much needed assistance. My heart pounded greatly in my chest, I never would have thought I would be confronted by Malcolm's father out of all people.

"Please back away from her majesty, sir," Rodger, the guard speaks bluntly, moving him away from me as Victor resists, however, Rodgers strength is far too strong. I freeze and stare at him as he curses at me, my heart beating so fast I feel as if I could go into cardiac arrest.

"I know you're up to something, and I am going to figure it out! It happened to Frederick now it's happened to my Malcolm!" he shouts, civilians looking over in concern and curiosity. With my heart sinking to my stomach, I knew Victor was right. Everyone who walked my way ended up dead. 

"I'd like to go home, Rodger," I say with quivered lips, fear written all over my face as he gives me a look of understanding. 

"As you wish, your majesty,"

⁂

"It's just different, you know?" I whisper.

Eddie fondles with my hair as I lay in his arms. He beckons his head, telling me to elaborate. "Father's not here, my husband is dead..." my lips form into a line as I think about how much has changed, whether that was for better or worse. 

"I am glad Malcolm is dead. There was a chance that could have been you," Eddie speaks bluntly but softly. Maybe he was right. Maybe there was all a reason I was here and father and Malcolm were not. Eddie moved his soft hand to my pregnant belly, caressing the baby who would soon be coming.

Suddenly, the baby kicked violently, making me gasp. "Did you feel that?" I chuckle in excitement, watching Eddie's eyes light up in excitement. "That was a big one!" he guffaws, baring his teeth. "Come on, let's go show Marguerite!" I squeal, pulling him up off of couch, rushing with him down the hall barefoot, my beige nightdress cascading down my legs. 

What catches me off guard is when I see a tall woman standing in the hall, accompanied by Marguerite. Eddie and I stop in our tracks as they lay eyes on us, the room growing silent as I realise it's the Queen of England. 

I watch as her emerald green eyes widen in what seems to be shock. 

"Edgar?" she speaks in a thick English accent, squinting her eyes at Eddie. "Is that you?"

"Edgar? Who is Edgar?" I question as my eyes shift between the Queen, Marguerite and Eddie who appeared to look extremely nervous and confronted. With his chest inflating up and down, my head began to put two pieces of the ragged puzzle together...

"Mother..."