The Medieval Story Of One Direction (Completed)

Chapter Nine- The Raven Haired and Golden-Eyed Boy

After walking through the palace gates, Simon left me in the dining hall, because he had some errands to run. Helena was waiting for me there, but I just gave her my basket of things, and told her I would see her later on, and that she could have the day off.

I was late for my day with Zayn and I felt unbelievably guilty. I sat in Zayn's chair at the table unsure with what to do. I didn't know my way around the grounds yet, and personally I didn't want to get lost. I slouched over, and my forehead hit the table with a thud.

"Ow..." I muttered.

"That would have hurt..." said a voice that I wasn't expecting. I sat up startled. Zayn was sitting in my seat at the other end of the table, with a smirk on his face. I didn't even hear him come into the room.

I stood, straightening my dress out; embarrassed. Zayn stood as well, coming over to me, until we were only inches apart. I could feel his body heat against mine, and I swallowed nervously. My eyes were level with his lips, and they curved into a smile when he realised I was staring at them.

"Sorry I'm late..." I whispered.

Zayn chuckled, taking my hips into his hand, hugging my body to him. I wrapped my arms around his neck. "It doesn't matter, as long as you're here now." He whispered back.

I smell the mint in his breath, as it fanned across my face with every breath he took. I secretly wondered what it would be like to taste his lips, and I blushed with the thought. I looked up at him through my lashes. He had a sudden intake of breath.

"What's wrong?" I asked curiously, my eyes never straying from the depth of his golden eyes.

"Nothing..." he said, taking one of my hands from around his neck, and lacing our fingers together. "Where do you want to go? We can go anywhere you like." he continued.

"I haven't got the slightest idea. I don't know my way around yet."

An idea flashed in Zayn's eyes before disappearing just as quickly as it appeared. He stepped back and we walked hand in hand, towards the door the servants come in and out of when they were serving or food last night.

"I must admit, the castle is quite spectacular. I couldn't imagine it being any more beautiful." Zayn said absentmindedly as we began to walk the halls that were unfamiliar to me.

"My mother used to say that a lot. She could never forget this place."

"Your Mother...?"

"Before marriage, my mother's name was Jasmine Budgeray, and I'm guessing by your expression you know the family very well?" I asked, taking in his shocked face.

"Your mother is the lost Princess of France." he exclaimed. "Now I know why you look so much like that painting."

I had no idea as to what Zayn was talking about. "Ah...what painting?"

"In the art gallery, that is in the left wing, on the third floor, there is a painting of a young woman, and it's titled 'The Lost Princess of France'. There is a legend behind it that's been passed down through the years, saying that the Princess left her home, and family to live with her true love, leaving her crown as the only trace of her disappearance, but that is all that's known, and, Beka, you are the exact replica of her. I have been trying to figure out this mystery for months on end and I couldn't work out how you were featured into the equation. I didn't understand how you could be painted twenty years before you were born, and now it all makes sense...It's your mother when she was your age."

I smiled at Zayn's excitement, still slightly unsure of what was going on.

I sat on a nearby lounge, knowing that Zayn would want to know everything, and it would probably take a long time to explain things. I knew he was too enwrapped in his amazement to recall the proceedings of this morning but I didn't hold it against him. He plopped himself down next to me, and I could see the thousands of questions floating in his eyes.