Scotland

How it all started

In the beginning, Mal was two years older than Ang, just how in real life but I made him five years older so it makes more sense. Enjoy.

Scotland in the 15th century:

"It's a boy!" Cried Peter, the king's adviser, gleefully as he ran out of the bedroom and met the king waiting there with his older son.

"Really?" William asked happily.

"Yes! It's a very healthy boy. He's a little small, but very healthy."

"Did you hear that, Malcolm? You have a brother." William beamed and looked at his five year old son. Malcolm nodded excitedly. The two ran into the king's apartments, where Margaret, the queen, lay exhausted on the bed, holding a baby in her arms. William ran up to her and kissed her hard. Malcolm stood by and looked at this. "Thank you, darling." William beamed and kissed his wife again before looking at his son. The boy was really quite small. He was wrapped in a thick blanket. It was March, but it was snowing heavily outside and it was very cold. He had a handful of curls on his head and looked at his father with big green eyes. His little chubby fingers tightened around the blanket. "He's so beautiful." William whispered and sat on the edge of the bed. Margaret smiled.

"Come here, honey." She whispered, looking at Malcolm. Malcolm ran to her. She helped him onto the bed and held him to her.

"Look. This is your brother." William said proudly, showing the little bundle. Malcolm looked at the boy and smiled a little.

"He's so small." The five year old chuckled when the boy was placed in his arms.

"You were so little too." Margarete grinned and brushed back Malcolm's hair. They were only long enough to reach his ears, but a Scottish prince should have long hair. Malcolm let his dark, sleek ebony hair grow with pride. Malcolm tapped the baby's little nose with his finger. The baby giggled and looked at him. Malcolm smiled.

"What's his name?" Malcolm asked, pushing the blanket a little to one side so it didn't cover the baby's face. The parents looked at each other.

"What would you like to call him?" Asked William.

"Angus." Malcolm whispered.

"What did you say?" Margaret asked weakly. Malcolm smiled at his parents.

"This is Angus."

"Truly a beautiful name." Said the advisor standing at the foot of the bed. William smiled and stroked the baby's cheek.

"Then you're probably our little Angus." Angus gave a loud squeak.

*

Angus was baptized that same day. In the name of: Angus McKinnon Young. But a week later, something unexpected happened. William was murdered. In front of his family. He was murdered by his best friend and loyal knight, Hamish. As much as the whole land mourned their righteous king, Hamish was the new king. Even if he wasn't entitled to the throne. Because actually Malcolm would have become king. Hamish had threatened to kill him and baby Angus if they did not renounce their claim to the throne. Another demand was that the two be banished from the castle. Nobody is allowed to give them refuge. Whoever it does will be punished with death. Since Malcolm was too young to fight, there was nothing else he could do. Margaret, as much as she loved her sons, had no choice. Since her husband had died, she was required to marry Hamish. And now there was nothing she could do about it. She had to leave her own sons to their fate. But she was still allowed to say goodbye. She had wrapped Malcolm in thick fur. The little five year old was wearing his tartan skirt, boots, shirt and was wrapped in two layers of fur. There was also a thick scarf that the cook had made. Baby Angus was dressed in a little tartan skirt, little socks and a thick blanket as well. The two were given a pony and a bag with provisions. Malcolm was pretty good at riding, which was his advantage. Margaret wept as she pulled the deer skin tighter around her son. The servants also watched weeping.

"Finally disappear!" Hamish shouted angrily. He wanted to get rid of the two boys at last. No one would dispute his thorn! Malcolm was crying.

"But mom. I don't want to leave." Tears ran down his cheeks. She gently wiped the tears from his cheeks.

"You can do it, darling." She sniffed. "Do you have the lunch bag with you?" Malcolm nodded and looked again at the fully packed saddlebags. "OK. Keep Angus warm, okay? You always have to keep him warm." Malcolm nodded and looked down at his little brother, whom he was holding in his arms. "Wait." Said Margaret. She opened the necklace around her neck. The clan mark was depicted on a medallion. She hung the necklace around Malcolm's neck and closed the small clasp. The necklace was way too big for the five year old.

"That's your necklace, mom." Malcolm said, looking at the locket. Margaret smiled and stroked his hair.

"Wear that necklace, Malcolm. It will remind you who you really are when you no longer know. It will remind you of you when you doubt yourself. I'll always be with you when you wear it, okay?" Malcolm nodded.

"I'm not going to take it off." Assured Malcolm. The queen smiled. Margarete tightened Malcolm's fur cloak again and then helped her son onto the horse. She gave him Angus. Malcolm held him tight so the baby was pressed to his chest.

"I love you, mom." Malcolm cried.

"I love you both too, darling. I will always love you."

"Last minute!" Hamish shouted angrily and raised his arm. The archers drew their bows. Margaret looked around in panic.

"Ride fast, my son." She whispered to him and brushed some hair back from his face. "Ride as fast as you can. Do everything as I explained to you. Say it again." She whispered so Hamish wouldn't hear.

"I'll ride to Aunt Eve as fast as I can. When I'm with her, I'm safe." Margaret nodded, crying.

"We'll see each other again, my sons. In this or in another life."

"I don't want to go, mom." Malcolm cried.

"You must!"

"30 ... 29 ... 28 ..." Hamish started to count.

"Quick! Go! Ride! I'll always be with you!" Exclaimed Margaret and hit the horse on the backside. It neighed and ran. Malcolm held the reins with one hand and held Angus to himself with the other. The saddlebags were fully loaded and a shoulder bag wafted behind him. Margaret looked after her sons weeping. "I hate you!" She yelled and looked at her new husband. Hamish slapped her face. All people gasped for air.

"Nobody! Really nobody will dispute my thorn!" He shouted and looked at everyone present. Margaret grinned.

"Malcolm will be back. And then he will get what is rightfully his." She growled.

"The bastard will freeze to death in the snow! Just like the little bastard!" Margaret grew angry.

"Come on, my queen." Said Petra, the head cook quickly, took her hand and pulled her into the kitchen. The two were like best friends. Margaret cried.

"They'll die, Petra. It's all my fault." Petra took her in her arms.

"It 's not your fault. You did your best. Malcolm will come back and get what is his."