Epilogue

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Harry's POV

"Be strong grandpa, you have to fight." I said with encouragement, though I had a feeling that only God's mercy could help him survive his battle. 

I was clasping grandpa's hands while he was lying on his bed looking so thin and fragile. He had many tubes attached to his body in order to survive. His body was deteriorating would not respond to treatment and his vital organs were not functioning well anymore. It was very painful to see him getting so weak everyday.

The past two years had been terrible for him fighting for his life. He was diagnosed with liver cancer. He received advance medications from the experts in the field of cancer treatments and even tried the newly experimented cancer drug that would cost a whole hospital building. 

For six months he was getting better and we became very hopeful that he was on his road to recovery. But suddenly, he woke up feeling nauseated, shortness of breathing and over fatigue. The terrible news was so hard to take in. His cancer had metastasised and spread all over his vital organs. 

"I'm tired fighting of this pain, Philip. I can't bear it anymore." Grandpa groaned again from another pain, his hand tightened on mine.

I could not bear seeing him in this state of illness too. It was too heavy in the heart. But I did not want him to see me weak, he would not like that. I had to be strong for him, to be his wall during this time.  

"The doctors are recommending another drug. They said that there's a chance that you would recover."

"Nah-- I don't want to be experimented anymore, I know it won't work."

"You can't just let yourself die, grandpa."

"I'm ready Philip. I'm old and very weak now. Besides, I lived a very fruitful life. I've performed my duties well as the king of England and now it's your turn. I know you will be a great king, Philip, greater than me." He took a deep breath and continued with a weak voice. "Teach Magnus what I taught you and make sure that he would rule England better that us."

"Don't worry grandpa, I will. I won't fail you."

"Thank you." His hands loosened and rested on his stomach. "Did you get the papers I asked?"

"Yeah." I took the envelope that I put at the bedside table when I arrived. 

I removed the two-pages document from the envelop and scanned the contents. I read it this morning and wondered why grandpa was interested about this person Douglas Reid, a fisherman in Sandwood Bay, the far north-west coast of mainland Scotland, who died ten years ago. 

"Read it to me."

I read the pages and grandpa listened attentively. Then I showed him the attached picture-- a photo of a new parents with a newly born baby inside a hospital room. The mother was smiling happily carrying the baby while the father looking so proudly.  From the pink flowery baby blanket, I could tell that the baby was a girl.  

"She's perfect."

I was confused for a second. I thought grandpa was referring to the mother, but his eyes focused at the baby. 

"Look at her, that high exotic cheekbone, pretty Grecian nose and delicate face. She'd grow up to be a very fine lady." There was a sudden laughter in his voice but immediately faded.

"What is about this picture and who's Douglas Reid?" I asked him. 

Grandpa heaved a long sigh before he answered. "I owed my life to Douglas."

That was a surprise. Grandpa was a proud man showing how strong and dependable he was. Admitting that he owed someone his life showed his vulnerability. 

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