The Lost Princess (A Tom Hiddleston Fanfiction) Wattpad Featured

Escape from Paradise

The sunsets were beautiful on this glorious tropical Island.

But he couldn't wait to escape.

Like his latest character, Tom Hiddleston was a man on a mission. And a month after starting filming and slowly but surely skyping, texting and phoning his way back into the life of his fairytale princess, this handsome prince was ready.

Four days – he had four days to get there – see her – talk to her and be with her and then get back to work.

But he had helpers.

His director and friends had arranged the schedule so he could have this window, Harry, Em, Marc and Matt had made sure she'd be home, Mon had been quietly lightened her schedule to allow her time to be at with him, Charles, Kate and Sophie had quietly taken over any duties that she had and his mother, father and Martin had handled the rest.

No-one had forgiven him easily – least of all Tory – but she was to blame too and she knew it.

And she loved him – and he knew it.

The plane trip took forever and was over in the blink of an eye. And suddenly he was landing at Heathrow, guitar slung on his back, dark sunglasses, a hoody pulled up tight hiding his sun-bleached curls and tell-tale blue-green eyes, a coat keeping him from dying in the cold.

It was early evening, late November and London was on the arctic side of tropical.

Tom was nervous – he got nervous going on stage – but never this bad. This wasn't reel life it was real life – though he often mixed the two up giving more time to one than the other.

But you had to live – you had to have some balance – he wasn't good at it – but he was getting better, it was clichéd but she made him better.

He wanted to throw up.

The sight of his father striding through Heathrow, Marcus at his side calmed him.

He could do this – even if she shot him down in flames.

Oh god she'd shoot him down in flames.

Panic rose and a hand clapped on his back.

It held him up and three tall men strode from Heathrow to the waiting black car.

He slid into the back, smiling as he saw his mother with the small squirming bundle in her arms.

He kissed her cheek and she held his hand squeezing it.

Little was said, his father slid in beside him, Marc in the front, Martin at the wheel as they pulled out and headed to his future – or his total annihilation at the hands of the Tory-nator.

Tom giggled nervously.

His mother's hand tightened on his. His crack team of operatives offered him nerve settling conversation - okay they all talked about the weather, it was London – it was cold it was wet; it was something to talk about.

That wore out quickly – Diana told him he was too thin – Sandy told him about the rugby – Marcus said his house was fine; Martin stayed strong and silent, eyes on the road.

And there it was looming in front of him.

Kensington Palace.

He went green.

His mother handed him the bundle on her knee.

It licked him and smiled with big brown, kind eyes.