Reign

30. Fight

 Note: Hello Readers. Good Easter to everyone! Sorry for the late update! Well this chapter is not what I had in mind. It was so long and tiring for me to write, but I wasn't satisfied, so I had to make some alterations. I wasn't satisfied with them either, so I had to rewrite it and to cut almost 2.000 words. 

Three or four chapters till the end of the story. It's a wonderful journey that you and me don't want to end. But, as I said to many of you, life is a line. It has a beginning, duration and an end. So instead of updating and adding innumerous chapters, repeating myself, I preferred to present you a story with a great plan. And don't worry. I will create a new world, a new story, but you have to be with me, like here.

This chapter is dedicated to my sweetest new reader @fancyfighter. Thank you for reading my story almost overnight. Whoever wants a dedication for the next one, please ask me and I will love to dedicate.  

                     30. Fight

“In this part of the story I am the one who

dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,

because I love you, Love, in fire and in blood.”

Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets of Love

Well I've lost it all, I'm just a silhouette,
A lifeless face that you'll soon forget,
My eyes are damp from the words you left,
Ringing in my head, when you broke my chest.
Ringing in my head, when you broke my chest.
And if you're in love, then you are the lucky one,
'Cause most of us are bitter over someone.
Setting fire to our insides for fun,
To distract our hearts from ever missing them.
But I'm forever missing him.

"Youth" Daughter

“Alexander is that you?” Ellinor asked in disbelief, unable to believe that her son had called her. “Is something wrong?”

“Umm,” the King mumbled incoherently and placed his head on the cold window. “Haven’t you seen the news?”

“No,” his mother retorted immediately and from the voices on the background it was obvious that she was somewhere outside. “My flight had just landed in Canada. There is an important charity event here.”

“So, I am the one bringing the woeful tidings,” his voice a muffled sound filled with bitterness, that made the always composed woman confused.

“Don’t tell me it’s your father and his heart again.”

“It’s Rose, mom,” he murmured and his voice, full of complaint and lament, almost broken. “They wanted me and she wanted to protect me and… and they shot her instead. I’m at the hospital and I don’t know what is happening… They don’t tell me. I… I didn’t have anyone else to call. I’m really lost.”

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His hands were clean now, although his shirt and jacket had large stains of blood. Hudson gave him a moistened handkerchief to clean himself. He wished he didn’t. If she was about to go away, he would at least keep her blood on him.

The waiting room was cold, plain, severe. The sterilized hall with posters that were advising the visitors to keep quiet seemed so hostile.  Mere excruciating silence, except the continuous ticking of the clock just above the surgery doors. He could hear his assistant talking nonstop on the phone in a sotto voice just outside the automatic doors of the waiting room and simultaneously giving orders to the security team and a bunch of police officers.

Covered in sweat and blood, he had carried her light as feather body through the crowd. He had never begged or pleaded in his life and at that moment inside the Parliament where every second was precious, he was begging the aristocrats to step aside and finally, they gave him the necessary free space to pass between them, probably because they pitted him. Luckily, the outside world was well organized, so immediately the paramedics placed her on the stretcher and gave her oxygen and medication. He couldn’t even escort her to the hospital, as the doctors left him outside the ambulance, a total prey in the eyes of the crowd and the reporters, until their bodyguards and Hudson picked him up.