A God will Always Love His Princess

This is the last chapter in the God and the Princess trilogy. Thank you for your patience as I re-edited it over and over. Its action packed and I wasn't sure how much description to put into the scenes of the carnage. I didn't want it to be too gory. Please read When a God Loves a Princess first, and then A God Still Loves His Princess.

Some people call me the luckiest man in the world. Others call me the biggest idiot. Ironically, my mother calls me both.

I never wanted to be a celebrity. That was a byproduct of circumstances beyond my control. I also never wanted to be a hero. I still say I'm not, but my efforts of fighting that moniker have long lost the battle.

When I jumped in front of bullets to protect Princess Jennifer and her baby son, the future King, Prince Walter, I had no idea what my life would become.

When I was in hiding with them and shot the terrorists who were opening the safe room, I still was an innocent to the larger world and its future reaction.

When I shot the terrorists at the hospital, I became jaded to it all. More dumb decisions by the man with the nickname, Thor.

After that, it became dangerous.

The Queen's Golden Jubilee was five months after the Valentine's Day hospital rescue. I became more of a media sensation than I was before, and it frightened me more than fighting terrorists.

On the morning of the boat parade down the Thames, I was scheduled to do a sit-down interview with Reginald Stewart. He was the ass who, on television, accused me of being the ringleader of the attacks on Jennifer.

Of course, I voiced my displeasure with the Queen's PR staff, however it was a waste of breath.

Jennifer kissed my cheek and said, "Just be yourself and don't get irritated. He's going to try and trip you up. Be ready for the worst and remember I love you."

She kissed my cheek and wiped her lipstick away.

"God!" I moaned. "Why am I doing this again?"

"Because you love me, Thor."

I frowned, "Well, you're putting on the leather catsuit and red wig when we get home."

She laughed, "Maybe. I'd still rather be Wonder Woman."

We hugged and said goodbye.

"They're ready, Sir," Michael said.

He stayed with me after the Valentine's Day nightmare. He said it was easier than babysitting the Prince. I agreed whole-heartedly.

I was led into one of the hotel's smaller meeting rooms, where they had a television camera aimed at both chairs and a boom microphone. There was one man with a third camera at the back of the room. I assumed for the wide shots.

Someone met me inside and said, "Please sit, Mister Carlton. I'll fetch Mister Stewart and we'll begin straight away."

"Thanks," I said and took the seat on the left.

Sir Stuffiness walked into the room and sat before me. He didn't even bother looking at me. His disdain for me oozed from his pores. Of course, that may have been sweat. He was a portly chap.

"Ready when you are, Sir," a voice came from behind me.

"Thank you," Reggie and I said at the same time.

He looked at me, irritated, and said, "Mr. Carlton, ever since you've burst into Princess Jennifer's life, she's been attacked twice. What do you attribute that to?"

"Thank you, Reggie," I answered. "It's nice to speak with you as well." If looks could kill...

I continued, "That's not true, actually. I hadn't met Jennifer when they assassinated her husband, nor when they tried to kill her at the hotel. I was just walking by that morning."

"Yes, well there are those who believe you are more than you claim. That you're the mastermind behind all of these horrific attacks."

I smiled, "No, just you."

He squirmed in his seat. I could see his neck redden underneath his pancake make-up.

"Mister Carlton, nonetheless, you always seem to be in the right place at the right time. It's as if you know when the attacks will happen."

"Again, you're incorrect, Reggie."

"It's Reginald."

"Right. Anyway, I suppose that's true for the hotel shooting, where I was shot in the back, three times mind you, but for the attack where we were hiding, I was already there. As for the hospital, I was waiting to have dinner with Jennifer a mile away."

He looked upset. I couldn't believe he wasn't more prepared for the interview.

He continued, "Why is it you always get away unscathed? You supposedly haven't had any military training."

"Well, if you call getting shot three times and having a hospital ceiling collapse on me, getting away unscathed, I guess I'm just lucky."

I heard Michael laugh at that one.

"Mister Carlton, are you expecting an attack at the Jubilee?"

"No, are you?"

I saw a flicker in his eye. I didn't like it, so I looked at Michael who was immediately talking into his communicator. I hoped he was getting the word out to Roger Quinn, the head of security.

I knew they were planning for all contingencies, but we couldn't be too careful.

Reggie huffed and said, "Knowing your history, it wouldn't surprise me at all."

I didn't respond to that slander and looked into his eyes waiting.

"Mister Carlton, do you feel your antics are an embarrassment to the Queen? Yelling at clerks. Patting the Princess on her rear end in public. I could go on."

"Well, Reggie, I love Jennifer and I'm an affectionate guy. You should pat your wife on the butt once in a while. She may like it."

Admittedly, I shouldn't have said that. I'd probably have to do another appearance dressed as Thor to make up for it.

He ignored my barb and continued, "With your lack of decorum and your inability to keep out of trouble, how long do you expect to be around the Royal Family?"

"Hopefully for a long time. Well, assuming I don't cost our team the victory in the next family soccer match. Sorry, football match."

He smirked, "Do you think it's appropriate for you to be seen in pubs? To go to darts tournaments?"

"Whoa!" I said. "I haven't gone to any darts tournaments yet. I just got tickets for next month's event last week. How do you know about that?"

I looked at Michael and he was frantically talking into his communicator at that point.

"I'm the press, Mister Carlton. I have sources."

"You're not a journalist. You're a talking head on an opinion show."

He chuffed, "I'll have you know..."

I got angry and cut him off, "Okay, Reggie. What was the last story you broke? When was the last time you were on the ground getting your brogues dirty?"

"Mister Carlton..."

"And what is it with you starting every question with, 'Mister Carlton?' I'm the only one here answering your so-called questions."

"Mist...never mind. You're just an arrogant American, acting with your self-entitled..."

"Do you have any legitimate questions for me, Reggie?"

"No, we're through here, and I can't wait to see your spectacular fall."

He got up and stormed out of the room. Well, at least as quickly as his three hundred pounds would let him storm.

I assume the man that approached me was the producer. He said, "Well, that was something, wasn't it?"

I smiled and said, "Remember the agreement with the Queen's staff. That interview airs unedited."

He smirked, "Yes. My superiors are all for that interview being aired unedited during the 12 o'clock hour. Thank you, Sir."

He shook my hand and laughed as he walked away.

***

If you've never been in a boat parade, it's just a bunch of boats going for a stroll down a river. The only difference for us was we were on an immense barge, and we were strolling down the Thames along with hundreds of other boats of all shapes and sizes.

Prince Walter wasn't letting anything get in the way of his afternoon nap, so he was below deck while everyone else in the Royal Family was waving and smiling to the throngs of people on the shore and other boats.

"You look uneasy, Andrew," Jen said with a smile while she was waving to a group of little girls on one of the boats.

"I guess I'm just on guard. It must be all the damned training Roger Quinn put me through over the last few months."

I'd been trained how to shoot, how to fight, how to spot things out of the ordinary, and even how to give Walter CPR if I ever had the need.

He wanted me to be in a better position to help if anything happened again. I went along with it as there'd been a lot of trouble with the Royal Family as of late.

"Well," she smirked, "try not to scowl the whole trip. The world wants to see your smile."

Just then, I saw the nanny Lindsey walking up the stairs, smiling brightly, with Prince Walter fussing in her arms. It was the most horrifying thing I'd ever seen. Her eyes went wide, and Walter slipped from her arms. The man behind her grabbed Walter as she fell to her knees. Her blood dripped from his knife as all hell broke loose.

Gunfire erupted from all sides. At first, I thought it was our security, but they'd never shoot towards the Prince. I realized it was coming from the boats next to ours on each side. They were supposed to be police!

People were dropping left and right, some from taking cover and others from being shot.

The shooters were picking off security all around us. I only hoped no one was killed, especially the royal family.

"Walter!" Jen screamed as a security woman tackled her to keep her from running after him.

I spun around and saw the guy who had Walter as he ran to the edge of the deck. I ran towards them as another guard was shot as he tried to get to Walter as well.

A shooting pain pushed me back as one of the men shot me in the shoulder. I fell to the hard deck and pushed myself back up.

Walter was mere feet in front of me when the man that had him held him out over the water.

"No!" I shouted, causing the man to turn. Just as he did, I tackled him to the ground. As we rolled, I pulled Walter away with my good arm and rolled into a wall.

The man's head exploded several feet away from me as I curled into a fetal position toward the wall to shield the Prince. I begged God to not let any bullets pass through me to Walter as I screamed when another bullet hit me in the back, then the other shoulder.

The last things I remember were struggling to breathe and the sound of Walter crying as blood pooled under us making his white outfit red.

***

I woke, in an all too familiar way, in a dark room. It wasn't a hospital room, though it felt familiar.

I heard, "Shh, sweetie. Don't wake Andrew," from the far corner of the room.

"Jen?" I groaned hoarsely.

"Oh, Andrew!" She cried and in a flash she was at my side and kissed my forehead.

"Are you okay? Walter's okay? The queen?" I asked.

In the dark, she touched my leg.

"I'm fine. A little bruised from being tackled and trampled over. Walter is right here. Some bruises too, but he's fine. You saved his life." She started sobbing. "You gave up your own life to save his."

"Well, it seems I'm still around." I saw my arm was in a sling and it hurt to breathe, so I figured I had broken ribs.

She cried, "Roger says it was a miracle. Your bulletproof suit shouldn't have been able to take all the shots like that. It wasn't...it wasn't designed for..."

"Easy, my love. It's okay. I'll take a miracle every once in a while. What about the rest of the family?"

"Queen Anne was shot in the leg, but she's fine. You know her, full of piss and vinegar and she keeps telling people 'off with their heads' when they talk about the bastards who were arrested."

"The Princes?" I asked.

She sat in the chair next to my bed. Walter was wiggling, but she hugged him tightly.

"George was shot trying to get the Queen away. The bullet went through his abdomen and into Her Majesty's leg. He's out of surgery and may be all right. The doctors are worried about infection and more internal bleeding. They're keeping a close eye on him."

"Jesus," I whispered.

"Steven is dead," she broke down again. Tears fell down my cheek as well. "I don't know exactly what happened, but they said something about being pinned down and shielding his wife once the bullets started flying. His son Louis was killed as well."

I waited for her to catch her breath. All I could do was nothing. She was on my bad arm's side, so I couldn't even reach out to her.

I couldn't see how anything would be all right again.

A moment later, someone came in the room. All I could see was the light in the hall. The person was just a dark shadow.

When he stepped into the room, I saw it was Jen's father, Allen.

"Oh, dear," he said and rushed to Jen. "It's all right. Here, let me have Walter."

"No!" she screamed. "Don't touch him!"

"Alright, I won't. Calm down."

"Hell of a situation, Allen," I said. "She's tough though."

He stood and asked, "Are you okay? Can I get you anything."

I wanted to laugh yet I didn't have it in me. One of the richest men in the world asked me if he could get me something, it was surreal.

"I'll be fine. She was just telling me about Steven and his son. It's been a rough few minutes for us."

He nodded. "I don't know how you keep doing it, Andrew, but you've saved my grandson again. I..."

He started crying and I realized that all the money and power in the world couldn't get in the way of a man's love of his family. It was humbling.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"You're at our house in Switzerland. Roger Quinn wanted Jennifer and Walter as far away as possible. Don't worry, you're safe here. The Royal Family's security is here and the room we're in now locks down into a safe room if needed."

"How long was I out?"

"Just a day. The attack was yesterday and it's after ten pm."

"Jen, why don't you get some rest?" I chided.

"Excellent idea, Andrew," Allen agreed. "Come, Dear."

Jen allowed him to lead her to the other end of the room. Now that there was some light, I saw another bed and a crib for Walter.

Once she was settled, Allen sat beside me.

"It's a bloody mess, Andrew. Twenty people are dead. A dozen more are hurt."

"Those were supposed to be police boats. What the hell happened?" I growled.

"They don't know yet. Well, they haven't told me yet. It seems that the police boats were legitimate, but the men weren't. Somehow they were able to switch their men for police."

I couldn't wrap my head around how the bad guys managed to do what they did. All the news I got was second hand as there was no television in the room and I wasn't allowed to leave.

Thankfully, Jen stayed with me the entire time, only leaving to get updates on the casualties and the status of the injured. We still didn't believe were being told everything.

*****

After a week, I was well enough to get out of bed. It hurt to breathe, but my shoulder wounds were healing, and the bruising caused by the bullets that didn't get through the suit were fading away.

Roger Quinn did a call over Zoom with me and Jen to give us some security updates. They had no idea who was behind the attack as no one was taking credit for it. The only plausible theory was the terrorist cell wasn't wiped out.

The other theory was being promoted by my news buddy Reggie. He was still trying to get anyone who would listen to believe that I was behind the attack. I knew I wasn't, and the entirety of the Royal Family was on my side, so I was fine to let his insane rambling roll off my back. It was tabloid fodder for a while, but no one bought it.

It was ridiculous. I mean, how many times do I have to get shot for that ass to be satisfied I wasn't the ringleader?

I was finally given my phone back and I tried to reach out to everyone who called and texted who were concerned. My parents and brother were surprisingly quiet, they were usually the first people on my case about jumping in to save Jen all the time. I guess they were used to it.

We eventually found out what they wouldn't tell us in the beginning. There was a bomb found inside the boat. Presumably, the man that stabbed Lindsey set it and didn't get a chance to detonate it before he was killed.

Their working theory on that was that they were going to kidnap Walter, then blow up the boat as they were fleeing. The bomb was strong enough to destroy the boat and everyone on it. They didn't intend on sinking it.

I still felt as if we weren't being told everything, pieces just weren't falling into place.

*****

The following week, Queen Anne gave an address that reinforced her resolve and paid respect to all those that lost their lives. I don't think there was a dry eye in the audience when her voice broke as she spoke of her son Steven and his teenaged son falling to the hail of gunfire as they shielded their wife/mother from the shots.

By the time she spoke of George barely surviving his injury, obtained while shielding her, her tears were freely falling. While many expected her to portray the ultimate visage of Royal fortitude and speak unemotionally, the world cried with her and loved her even more when she became emotional talking of her sons and the others that sacrificed themselves for Queen and country.

Allen walked up behind me and put his hand on my shoulder.

"Thank you, again, Son."

Jen squeezed my hand and lifted it to her lips.

Michael walked into the room with a pallor that concerned me. He said, "Roger Quinn would like to speak to you, Sir."

He handed me a tablet with an open window and Roger's face hiding the concern he felt.

"Hello, Mister Carlton. I wanted to let you know that your idea for the return trip home has been approved."

I was confused, I didn't have any ideas for the return trip. I had no idea when that would be happening.

Then he said something that ripped my heart apart.

"We know you'll help with the details and if the need arises, you can count on us to make sure you're all safe. Have a good evening, Thor.

I looked around the room and saw the guards at the window watching outside as per usual. Michael took the tablet and nodded. "Good night, sir."

I looked behind me and said, "Allen, do you have any of those cigars I had at New Year's left. I've been craving one."

I knew he kept the cigars in the room next to our safe room.

"Sure, I'll send someone to get one for you."

"No, um, I'd like you to show me how to choose a good one. Come on, Jen, let's take a walk."

She looked at me as if I were crazy, but I looked at Walter and nodded. Her face went white, and she hurriedly picked him up and left with us. Michael followed.

She knew I knew she had no interest in cigars, and when I silently asked her to pick up Walter as well, she realized something wasn't right.

Roger Quinn had told me, when I was in defense training, that if any of our guards were compromised, he would let me know by using my nickname Thor. The only one I should trust would be whomever delivered the message. That was Michael. I was relieved at that at least.

When we were in the hallway, I urged, "Quickly, we need to get to the safe room, now!"

"What?" Allen asked yet moved faster.

I pulled Jen and Walter into my side as I almost pulled them along with me.

When we got in the room, I said, "Lock it down!"

Michael hit some buttons on the hidden panel and the heavy door slid closed. A section of bookshelves moved, and a bank of monitors powered on.

"What's going on, Andrew?" Jen asked.

"One of the guards is compromised. The only one we can trust is Michael right now."

"How..."

"Quinn called me Thor. That's the codeword he set up for an emergency that involved the guards. He was either worried that we had ears in our room, or he had ears in his and couldn't warn us without tipping them off."

"Jesus," Allen sighed. "What do we do now?"

"We wait," Michael said, watching the monitors.

He pushed another button and two more rows of shelves moved, uncovering a gun safe and a store of food and water.

"Don't forget to turn on the phone and get the radio," Allen reminded.