"Christian." Christian heard a voice call out his name and he glanced up from where he sat, grey eyes filled with both curiosity and wariness. It was one of the elder counsel members, dressed in a suit and blue tie. "Today your time has come and you'll be assigned to a newborn human. Please, follow me."
Christian tried not to show his nerves as he stood, following the elder member. One hand swept through his hair while the other yanked at the tie around his neck, tucked neatly beneath the collar of the white shirt he was wearing.
He'd been waiting for this day for years, with never being certain when the time would come. It was a time every member of the counsel waited for; The chance to finally be assigned their charge from the counsel leaders.
Stopping in the hallway of a wide, arched entryway, the elder counsel man paused, gesturing for Christian to walk ahead of him first. When he did while again trying to remain composed, he saw that all the elder-men and women were seated at their thrones, all ready to declare and announce the name of his first and only charge.
Christian walked forward until his polished shoes just met the edge of a large hole in the room. While the ceilings were high and see-through in the counsel room, showcasing a brilliant stormy sky and glittering stars, the floor below it was scarcely laid.
There was a point to where the glistening granite floors stopped and opened up instead to an endless deep pit. Just inches from the mere tip of Christian's shoes, he glanced down into the large hole in the granite flooring, attempting not to show any sign of nerves or fear.
The cavity in the ground would reveal what he needed to know most, in a mere few seconds time.
"Anastasia Rose Steele," one of the elder counsel men commented, and Christian lifted his gaze from the pit in the ground to stare at the counsel elders.
The name was not familiar, but then he would soon find out all he needed to know. As he dropped his eyes back down to the pit, images began flashing in the center of it.
His charge. The human he was newly assigned to protect from this day forward.
Anastasia.
A woman was wailing at the top of her lungs in a human hospital. She was on a bed, doctors and nurses surrounding her, beckoning her to push. And then, the woman's wailing mingled with another.
A young babies. A newborn.
The child, clearly a girl, was swathed in a warm blanket, then given to the crying woman who had just been in labor with her. Christian watched as the woman held the baby close in her arms.
The baby was fine. Pink and slightly purple, but it had a working set of lungs on it. A small dusting of dark hair was on the crown of the baby's head, and as the woman, obviously the mother, started rocking the baby while crying softly and whimpering in happiness, Christian immediately recognized the baby's soul.
She was the one. The one he was now charged to protect for the rest of her life.
The one he would have to watch over from afar and ensure she was safe-without direct contact or interference of any kind.
Anastasia Rose Steele.
The baby's eyes were tiny, small slits as it immediately slept in its mothers arms, exhausted from the labor and excitement of coming into a new world itself.
"Your here," he heard the woman coo tiredly as she continued rocking the child gently in her arms. "You're finally here, Anastasia. Have you any idea how long I've been waiting to meet you, honey?"
The images of the mother speaking gently to her new child began to waver and dispersed, hollowing out the pit again into a deep, dark emptiness.
Christian peered up at the elder counsel members, waiting for one of them to speak. When they finally did, he knew what was to be done. He'd heard about it, the initiation, the pledge of undertaking a charge.
"Do you, Christian Grey, accept Anastasia Rose Steele to be your charge in the Earth world?"
"I do," he repeated the vow calmly while unbuttoning his shirt.
Once he reached the fifth button, he pried his shirt open, baring his chest, his skin. He kept his grey eyes on the elder man that was speaking as another member walked around the pit towards him, a large, narrow blade glistening in their hand.
"Will you, Christian Grey, die for her if the cause was necessary?"
"Yes."
"Will you, Christian Grey, watch over her from this day forward, ensuring she is free from pain and suffering?"
"Yes."
"You willingly give your life over to protect hers?"
"I do." Knowing what was coming, Christian braced himself for it as he turned towards the member holding the blade. Tightening their fingers around the golden, ancient handle, they brought their arm up, holding the knife into the air.
In swooping, downward stabbing motions, the blade was plunged into Christian's chest, not once, but three times in several places.
Gritting his teeth at the amount of excruciating pain, Christian dropped his chin, watching the three open puncture wounds in his chest. Drops of bright red blood trickled from them, only to form the initials they should, as part of the pledge.
ARS
The process was complete.
The human he was bound to protect, bound to look over and watch from a distance without interference, had finally been given a name.
Anastasia Rose Steele.
His time to arrive on Earth had arrived.
...
The first 10 months of being charged of watching over the human went smoothly and uneventfully. The child slept, then woke and cried, either because she needed to be fed, needed her diaper changed, or was just bored in general.
And then, all of a sudden, one day she decided she was ready to crawl.
Christian had learned through observation that the Steele household could be a stressful one. On three separate occasions, Anastasia's mother would get into emotional moods whenever news was brought to her of her husband Frank not being able to come home from his service in the marines.
During these times, the mother often became careless and less watchful of her child than she ought to have been.
Anastasia, 11 months old, had been left alone on the carpet while her mother was in the next room, Christian looking over her. There had been what he'd heard as a phenomena where, due to the purity of a child's soul, they could see their guardian angel at certain times.
He stood around near the child as she got up on her knees and hands, attempting to crawl and shuffle across the carpet towards where her mother was in the other room. The child was making soft, moaning noises as it stared ahead, shuffling one small foot forward from the other.
He'd moved in front of the child for just one second before he thought he saw her light blue eyes linger on the tips of his shoes.
And then, tilting back her head, he'd gotten a shock when the child looked up at his face for a fleeting, short moment, a toothless smile and dribble-bubbling squeal coming from her mouth.
He'd began wondering if she'd been able to see him for continuous periods after that moment.
Christian thought it had happened again the next day when the child's mother was holding her. Anastasia was sitting on her mother's lap, and as she'd curled a small hand into her mother's hair and had yanked, hard, he could have sworn the child's line of eyesight had been on him during that moment as well.
..
As the child grew, the more Christian felt comfortable around her.
At age five, she'd grown to nearly reach above his knees, short but slender-limbed, with light auburn hair, those inquisitive blue eyes she'd had even as a baby, and those round, pink cheeks.
It had become easier now that she could somewhat fend for herself better.
He learned that she loved watching animation or child's cartoons throughout the years. She also loved drawing and humming to herself as she did so.
Most of all, Christian learned that she loathed confrontation and seeing other people upset.
The troubles of the Steele's still carried on. Her mother still become emotional- even more regularly now- whenever her husband had dropped in for short visits, only to have to be deployed back to do his marine services early.
Whenever Anastasia had heard her mother arguing with her father, or even the slightest muffled cry, he'd noticed she'd immediately dart off into her bedroom to preoccupy herself in some other way. But as her guardian angel, he could sense her distress and her inner turmoil at how her mother was feeling.
Whenever she retreated off hastily after hearing her mother, he'd always sat beside her as she drew on the floor in one of her coloring books or hummed to herself. He would wrap his wings around her, hoping to give the girl encouragement. He would even try to project soothing thoughts and feelings onto the girl, only he was unsure whether it was effective or not.
And then the death came.
Early one morning, Anastasia's mother had gotten a phone call. Anastasia had woken up at the harsh sound of her mother's cries, still half asleep but alert despite it all. He'd seen and noticed the way her expression had changed, from sleepiness, to slow awareness. In the short span of fifty seconds, Anastasia had shut down completely.
As her mother's hysterical cries grew louder in another room, Anastasia had sat up, grabbing her pillow. He'd watched her crush it to her stomach, hugging onto it tight while she pulled up both knees, comforting herself. He'd been surprised by her inquisitiveness, at how bright she was to immediately discern something bad had happened.
He'd tried to project serenity and soothing sensations onto his charge when he'd found out what had happened.
Frank had been killed during his service in some sort of freak marine accident. An inquest into the cause was still being made.
As the noises of her mother had died down, Anastasia had taken to rocking slightly with the pillow, sniffling tearfully. Christian learned then what it was like to be truly hopeless and ineffective when the five year old's tears ran down her flushed cheeks as she squeezed her eyes tightly closed.
"Your fine," he'd tried to tell her, sitting beside her, covering over her shaking, small shoulders with his wings. "I'm here and I won't let anything happen to you."
That moment had happened again, when he saw her eyes open as they drifted off towards where he was momentarily. Christian thought he'd seen a spark of recognition in them- of shock, even- but it passed and drifted away, just as quickly as it had come.
If Anastasia's younger years had been this breezy, Christian was bound to be in for a shock once her early teen years began.
what do you think of a story like this? new to 50 shades fic writing