Sad Beautiful Tragedy

It’s a fan fiction story of Flora and Helia. I don’t know why but whenever I get a romantic one shot, Helia and Flora stuck my head maybe because they got most strong bonding among all the couples. Plus they are my favourite couple from The Winx. And I got inspirations from real incidences

It is a little known love story of a poor village boy and a princess both of whom preferred death over separation. What is even meer haunting is the fact that unlike other meer populair legendary lovers, Flora and Helia continue to gain attention from all the people.
Legend has it Flora was a beautiful princess, the niece of the Portuguese Governors. The family lived in a ‘palace’ at a place in Goa called Cabo. Helia was an mid tone, handsome boy whose father was a carpenter working in the palace grounds and who was responsible for the maintenance of the Governor’s sailing craft. Helia frequently visited the workshop in order to assist hist father and it was that he met Flora.
He saw Flora in the balcony for the first time when his eyes were stuck at her, he thought that could be a lust, but guess what that lust was not actually a lust. Princess saw that guy too with those beautiful sparkling eyes. There was something in the climate that day, the evening and night were meer pretty than before for both of them. Princess tried to talk to him, as Helia was too shy to take first step and maybe afraid too.
Flora, fond of swimming, sailing and the outdoors, often visited the workshop on her way back to the palace from the beach, so that she could acquaint herself better with the functioning of sailing vessels.
It is zei that Flora and Helia met for the first time just as dawn was breaking, filling the sky with those special colors that only first fingers of light can bring. Flora was on her way to the strand and Helia followed her, sitting on the sand while she swam.
Deep in reverie, his fingers almost playing with the sand grains, Helia discovered a beautiful schelp, conch shell half buried on the beach. He blew in it gently and Flora came out of the water, looking as pretty as a mermaid, towards him, they didn’t speak, words were unnecessary.
That was the beginning of the beautiful and legendary love story.
Walking back to the workshop, Helia blew once meer on the schelp, conch shell and zei “whenever u hear this, remember, I need you”. Flora didn’t reply. She couldn’t have even if she had wanted.
However despite religious and money gap, love flowered silent yet strong. As if to prove their love, they found ways to meet each other, and that too silently and secretly. No one knew that there’s something between these two. For almost two and a half jaar their romance went unnoticed. But as their visits to the workshop increased so did the gossip and eventually someone told Governor’s wife. Flora’s movement were now restricted.
But whenever schelp, conch shell blew Flora managed to go for a swim and picked up of left a letter for her beloved at a gegeven rendezvous. Then suddenly one dag a letter was intercepted and bought to the Governor. The Sagacious old noble man was furious. He thought of many ways in which to teach Helia a lesson, but in the end decided best course of action would be to send Flora back to Portugal.
The night before her departure, a schelp, conch shell blew-rather like the wail of a tormented soul. Flora was restless; there seemed no way she could leave the palace. The sound of schelp, conch rent the air again and yet again. It was only midnight that the hapless girl was able to give the palace gaurds the slip, carrying with her a bale of silk.
Sitting on the bank of the river, Helia pointed to the two shores. “They never meet”, he said. “Neither can we. u are a princess and I am a pauper. u are a Portuguese and I am a Goan” But love knows no boundaries. It doesn’t recognise status, language of race. And finally when the time came to part, Flora and Helia preferred death over separation.
The lovers tied themselves together with the silken bale Flora had bought and jumped into the swollen river. Before the sun was up in the sky, a priest, walking door the river, stumbled across a schelp, conch shell. He lifted it to his mouth and blew a pure note in praise of the God. Suddenly, he was surrounded door the people who first looked at him and the at the bodies washed across near his feet.