PT: Hello! So, this is my first Da Vinci Code fic and by the looks of it, adults may end up reading this fic. I don't know: my classmates say the book is freaking boring and we're all about the same age: twelve, thirteen, almost thirteen. I borrowed my copy of the Da Vinci Code from my grandpa and note the adult writers on Fanfiction. So, my fiction would seem rushed and stupid. However, I am quite proud of this fic because it's the first time I've actually drafted a fanfic with pencil/pen on paper and rewritten on this computer. On all other fics, I just type it in. I make everything up as I go along. Heheheheheheheh, I spent the whole night writing this on paper. Literally, I started at midnight and stopped at five. Yeah, so here we go!
Disclaimer: The Da Vinci Code is not mine. If it were, I'd be writing a sequel.
"Grandfathers and granddaughters always forgive each other."
-Jacques Saunière
Grandpère.
It rang through Sophie's head as she struggled to contain herself.
Grandpère – the word that was so familiar to her.
Grandpère – the sound that had slipped off her tongue so easily, so many times, in the past.
Grandpère – the sound that rang through her head now, like so many more times begore when she thought of him.
She had lost him before, but she could have found him again. Now…there was no hope of that.
A powerful, prickling sensation suddenly rose up to her brilliant green eyes, being pushed up by the hurt in her heart.
The hurt – expanding painfully, throbbing – was unbearable, worse than a myriad of the most fatal ice daggers, taking its toll within the left of her chest. How she longed to pnch it there, strike it with her fist, for the blow to lessen this sudden pain.
Remorse flowed within her.
Hieros Gamos…
"He raised me like his own daughter." Those seven words slipped out, rolled off her tongue, displaying al that hurt, all the pain.
She so wanted to cry, yet didn't at the same time. She lusted to cry, let the hurt cascade in hot liquid, the drops salty and wet. Yet, all the same, to show weakness like this, act like a little lamb begging for its mother as a wolf devours its helpless form – the thought was too hard to bear.
Yet, the tears came, not making their way out of the green-centered orbs that allowed vision; the French woman made no attempt to be rid of them. How it hurt, so hard, crushing her…
She had shunned him, like she hated him, and that could have been fixed, had she understood him earlier.
Now, he was gone, wrenched from her grasp. Swept into the Great Beyond.
If only she could turn back time. If only she could have answered to her Grand-père's please to hear him out, to explain.
If only.
She remembered all those times.
"I know you asked for a doll." His smiling face as he presented her with her birthday's bike. "I thought you might like this even better."
Sophie clenched her fist as the pain increased. He was everything to her and after that night… It wasn't as bad as she though. It was a ceremony, honoring what was right to her grandfather.
I was there. Don't try to find me.
Her last words to him, cold and betrayed. All he had, the last thing she could tell him.
Gone now, gone forever. Now, she couldn't repent that. Now, it was far too late.
That day, riding her new bike with her Grandpère down the walkway, his presence comforting her. Warm. Familiar. That day – one of many – when everything was perfect.
How Sophie craved for those days.
"Grandpère," an innocent young girl, moments shy of becoming Princess Sophie, a day bold of being nine years old, "I'm really sorry about the key."
Indeed, she was. Little did the young girl know, she'd be even sorrier for what the key was linked to, years later.
"I know, sweetie," her grandfather had said, his voice honest and warm with affection. "You're forgiven. I can't possibly stay mad at you."
How could she have stayed so hateful of him? The reasons seemed to have been wiped away now.
"Grandfathers and granddaughters always forgive each other."
The tears were held back now; that memory, the fhost of his voice, felt like a sudden warmth flung over her heart, melting the invisible daggers.
Regret now, remorse only, but those words…
Sophie was aware of the dawn, now, the most delicate shades of crimson blending with the beautiful glow of gold. The wonder of the colors, so magnificent, touched the surrounding clouds to a soft rose. To think that she was seeing it through a plane's window, the glass muffling its true beauty.
A new day had begun. The light, warm, like a queen nuzzling her kit with fierce love. The warmth reached Sophie's heart.
What would he say now, if he were here?
"Don't cry. It's all right. Be strong, Princesse Sophie."
It was not all right. Grandpère was not there.
Yet, why did it feel that…there was something amiss?
Sophie unclenched her fist as she felt the love her dear grandfather had left in her, guarding her from hurt and pain.
Oh Grandpère…
Sophie would never forgive herself for what she had done, but would her grandfather have?
Grandfathers and granddaughters always forgive each other.
In that instant, Sophie flung her love and grief, wrapped with remorse, to her Grandpère, hoping that he would hear her in his eternal sleep.
Oh, Grandpère…je vous pardonne.
I forgive you.
PT: There we go! Hope you liked it! Hate it? Well, flames are acceptable but not desirable. Turn your nose up at it? Either you like it or complain that you wasted your time elsewhere. I took this out of my own experiences, okay? I was slightly teary when I was writing the middle. In case you still haven't figured it out, this takes place when Robert explains to Sophie about Hieros Gamos and Sophie starts to feel remorse about shunning him for it and – you know the rest!