The Medieval Story of One Direction 2: Finding the Stolen Princess (Completed)

Chapter Twenty- Six- A Beautiful Death

Hey Guys,

Make sure you listen to the link while reading this chapter when the stars (**) appear...

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Beka’s POV-

As said so before, it didn’t take us that long to get back home. It was early in the morning, before dawn, and I was absolutely frantic about getting home. My body was shaking, and I felt uneasiness in the pit of my stomach. Josh had told me about Simon’s condition, so he and I raced ahead of the group, trying to get to London quicker.

The town came in view, but I couldn’t concentrate on the beautiful, familiar, sights that I called home, all I wanted, all I needed, was to get to see him, my daddy, before it was too late. My heart seemed to want to break through my chest because it was pounding so hard, and every so often, it would give a painful squeeze.

The town was deserted, odd considering London was usually busy at all times, but it provided us with quicker travel. We rushed through the castle gates, and I was too impatient to wait for the horse to come to a full stop before I ran inside. I ignored the shocked looks from the servants as I passed them, whispering my name, rubbing their eyes, checking that they were really seeing me. I just kept running straight to Simon’s room, nothing was going to stop me, nothing, not at a time like this.

His door came into my view, and I shoved it open without a second spare, my breathing heavy, lungs aching. I searched the room, and found Simon lying very quietly in the bed, wrapped securely in the navy blankets. He sat up slowly, at the speed he could manage, when he realised who I was.

I stood there, at the door, and did nothing. I was frozen. This is it. This is really it. Simon didn’t have to say a word, didn’t have to do anything but open his arms and I rushed over to the bed, and slid under the covers, lying beside him, hugging his body to me. He chuckled lightly, and patted down my hair, kissing me repeatedly.

I didn’t care about how sick he was; I didn’t care about the fact that his appearance had changed so much, I was just overly ecstatic that I was spending this time with my Father, after three years, three agonisingly long years.

“My sweet Beka, Oh how I’ve missed you.” He cooed, lying back into the pillows.

I looked at him with tears in my eyes, only feeling a pure love overcome me; it was a painful feeling, yet sweet. I loved him to the point where it hurt. “I’ve missed you to, Father.” I whispered softly into his chest, tears beginning to run down my cheeks. Simon wiped them away with a shaking hand, which I took in mine, holding on to tightly. “Why are you so sick, Simon?” I asked quietly.

He sighed before he answered. “I became overly stressed, probably amongst other things, but mainly the stress is killing me, literally-…” He said ending his sentence with a gut wrenching cough.

I rubbed his back, easing him out of the cough, and then spoke again. “What have you been stressed about?”

“You.” He answered, with no hesitation. “You have no idea how much losing a child of your own takes a toll on your body.” He said not looking at me, breathing shallowly. “What happened tonight, finding out that you could possibly come home…the excitement, was too much for me, as well as the state of panic when I realised that my boys were going after my brother.”

I swallowed. “I’m sorry.” I said sincerely.

“Don’t apologise. I’m so happy that my baby is home.” He said with a smile, but even pulling a smile, for Simon, was a huge effort.

“I’m sorry about your brother to.” I said, the guilt finally kicking in, but I didn’t feel guilt about killing David, in a sense. I was feeling guilty about the fact that I killed Simon’s brother.