Britain, October 1540
Erik stood before his father's desk, staring at him through the white mask covering the right half of his face. "I have to marry in order to be crowned king? Father, no woman would wish to marry me. A freak of nature." He gestured to his face, hanging his head. His deformed flesh was the one thing in life that he was the most ashamed of. Having been born with the deformity, he had suffered the disdainful looks from society for the past twenty-six years. His mask hid the horrifically mangled flesh from view, and he rarely went without it. Only when he slept did he remove the porcelain. The only people in his life who had seen the thin, pink flesh, were his parents. They insisted that it didn't matter to them if he had a deformed face, and he believed them. Although it had taken several years when he was little before he believed that they didn't look at him in disgust. Over the years, the skin under the mask had grown a bit thicker, which made it more difficult to see the skeletal bones under the pink flesh. When he was a little boy, the flesh had been so thin and translucent that the veins had shown through. Now, the horrific image had improved, becoming less gruesome.
Cedric Delose stood from his chair and skirted around the desk to stand in front of his only child. "You are no freak in my eyes." He placed his hand on Erik's shoulder while his mother, Alice, stepped over to stand next to her husband. "Or your mother's."
Alice lifted her son's chin, who stood a full head taller than her. "Erik, you are a strong figure in the eyes of the kingdom. They don't look upon you in fear."
Erik turned and walked to the window, "I know that our people don't fear me Mother. I'm only worried that no woman would willingly marry me." Erik had grown up with no female companionship, except for his mother and the family's servants. He had merely been a silent observer during the parties his parents hosted. He knew how to dance, as his mother had insisted that he learn. He only ever left the castle when his parents insisted that he attend balls with them. Although there were never any women who wished to dance with him, he didn't mind. He preferred to remain in the library or out in the gardens with his sketchbook or reading.
Alice glanced at her husband, then moved to Erik's side. Looking at the mask he wore, she put her hand on his masked cheek and took hold of the hand that hung at his side, "Erik James Delose, you have so much to offer this world. And you have duties as the prince and future king of Britain, one of them is to marry a princess. I know in my heart that you will be a wonderful king. You may think that no woman could ever love you. But you are missing one point. That I love you. I gave birth to you twenty-six years ago. And as soon as the doctor put you in my arms in that little green blanket, I knew that I would love you unconditionally for your entire life, no matter what your face looks like." She reached across his face and pulled the porcelain off. "Because when I look at you, I see a strong, caring, handsome man who would do anything for the ones he loves. Regardless of what you look like, you're a blessing to myself and your father, as well as to your kingdom. You'll make a fine king."
Erik heard a rustling behind him and turned to his father who had pulled two boxes from his desk. "Your mother and I would like to give you something. Two somethings actually." He gestured for his son to sit in the chair in front of his desk. Alice went to stand by Erik, putting her hand on his shoulder. Cedric picked up the smaller box and handed it across the desk to Erik, who took it with shaking fingers.
The box was delicate and Erik gently pulled the black ribbon loose and removed the lid with trembling hands. Inside, on a bed of velvet lay an emerald ring with four diamonds, one on each corner. "This was your wedding ring Mother." Erik said, remembering how his mother had worn this ring for years after he was born.
"Close. It was your grandmother's ring." His father spoke from where he sat behind the desk. "I gave it to your mother when we were engaged. Your grandfather bought my mother that ring after they'd been married for ten years." He sighed. "When she knew she was dying, she passed it on to me, telling me to give it to my own beloved. Now I'm passing it on to you to put on your own wife's finger." He picked up the larger square box and passed it across the desk.
Erik's hands had ceased their trembling as he took the box, pulling off the lid. Inside was a small painting of a young woman with chestnut curls and clear blue eyes. She was dressed in a dark green gown and sat straight backed in an ivory arm chair. On her head rested a small tiara of diamonds and sapphires. "Who is this beautiful woman?" Erik asked, unable to tear his gaze away from the woman's eyes. Eyes that were so full of life that they seemed to sparkle at him from the canvas. A black dog sat next to her chair, her head turned towards the woman. She was truly the most beautiful woman Erik had ever seen. He guessed that she could quite possibly be a spit-fire.
"That, son, is Princess Christine Daae." Alice smiled at her son, "She is the daughter of King Gustave and Queen Genevieve of France, and the woman you will marry."
Erik's face fell at her words. "Mother, are you sure that she won't turn and run as soon as she sees me?"
Cedric interjected, "She may be wary of you, but she's already sworn an oath that you two will be married."
"You see Erik. When you were five, your father made a deal with King Gustave that you and Gustave's infant daughter, Christine, would be married when she turned twenty-one." Alice rubbed her son's back, as she had when he was younger. "She turned twenty-one two weeks ago, and she's known that she was promised to you her entire life."
Cedric stood from his chair, "That's all son. I believe I saw you out in the gardens drawing before I called for you. You may go back to the gardens if you wish." His son looked at the painting again, sighed, and stood up.
Erik turned on his heel and left the room, the painting and ring box clutched in his hand. What would Christine think when she arrived? Would she truly keep her vow to marry him? He strode through the castle to the stairs leading to the second floor and made his way to his chambers. There, he put the box on the table by his bed and slipped the painting into the top drawer of his desk. Satisfied, Erik turned and left, closing the door and making his way to the gardens where his sketchbook and charcoal waited.
