Wind swift and sharp like war arrows flew through the serene town of Rouen, lifting the last of the leaves off the trees and acting like invisible arrows pointing towards the south for the migrating birds.
Feeling the chill, ten year old Erik Destler urged his little sister into the house. But upon seeing their mother, Erik and Victoria stopped in their tracks. Laughter ceased.
Catherine Leroux frowned. It is her biggest displeasure that her beautiful daughter looks up to her... abominable excuse of a bastard brother.
Victoria squeezed Erik's hand tighter, but he pulled free. Giving his little Vicky a small smile, he ran out of the room.
"Victoria, darling." Her mother's mood lifted immediately. Gently, she pulled the little six years old onto her lap and sat down onto the divan. Peering intently into the girl's chestnut brown eyes, Catherine ordered firmly, "You must stop playing with your brother."
Vicky jumped up in protest.
"Why?" she tried but failed to exclaim calmly, feeling hot tears surfacing up to her eyes.
"You are an intelligent young lady; I do believe you know why."
"His face, mother, his face does not matter!"
"It does matter!" Catherine screamed, loosing her composure. Standing so she towered over the quivering form of her daughter, she spat, "His disfigurement is the curse that God had put onto me! A Devil's child! I refuse to let him tarnish you! You the legitimate!"
"I refuse to let you take him away from me!" Vicky shouted back. She then turned and bolted out of the parlor.
Erik was waiting for her. Grabbing his hand, Vicky ran up the narrow flights of stairs with him in the lead. They stopped to climb up the croaky ladders that lead up to the attic, the place where Erik's chamber lies.
"She's right you know," Erik said sadly as Vicky closed the entrance.
"No, she's not." Vicky turned to smile at her beloved big brother, the one who never fails to make her laugh, who never fails to comfort her. Crawling over, she gently took off the mask that hid the right side of his face to reveal the twisted scars and marred flesh. "There, nice and comfortable."
Erik couldn't help but smile gratefully at his darling little sister. "Do you want to play Fairytale?" he suggested.
"I get to be the fairy this time!"
"And I'm the all powerful wizard!"
They played until the falling sun completed its masterpiece, painting the room in a warm, marigold shade of orange.
"And they lived happily ever after," Vicky concluded with her doll. Smiling she brushed her silk black hair out of her eyes and added, "Just like we will Erik, I will never leave you."
Erik smiled as he kissed her forehead and bid her goodnight. No, he cannot let her know that he's still shaken by their mother's words. He has to play the hero, for her, he cannot be afraid.
Vicky's eyes snapped open and for a moment she did not acknowledge what had woke her. Then she heard the stumble of hurried footsteps on the stairs and her mother's sharp voice. Quick as a viper, Vicky hurried up and ran downstairs, just in time to see Catherine dragging Erik out the door.
Vicky ran after them out into the moonlit streets. It was the dead of night, the only source of light being the lantern Catherine held and the night sky itself.
Turning a corner, Vicky stopped. And to her horror she saw her mother pushing her dear brother, whose hands are bound tightly by twill, towards a huge man dressed in a loose robe. Behind him stood a horse with a wagon, and a cage, intended for Erik.
The man picked up the little boy who immediately scratched and kicked and punched and screamed at him. With a loud roar he threw Erik down and took out a whip, and with no hesitation he slashed it onto the whimpering child's back.
"No!" Vicky ran out. But before she could reach her brother, a pair of strong hands caught her and started to carry her off in the opposite direction.
Screaming and struggling, Vicky protested against her mother's grasp.
"Erik!" she cried out, failing to escape Catherine's hold. Her mother then started to hum a familiar lullaby, one that Erik always sang for Vicky, as she walked further and further away.
Catherine never dared to let go of her daughter, rocking her but failing to lull her to sleep the entire night. What once was the fail-proof lullaby is now useless.
Vicky finally became silent, watching the front door intently as if her brother will run through any minute. But by the time the sun lit up the parlor, Vicky realized her reality.
Off in the distance the birds chirped a farewell song as they prepared their journey south, along with a voice, a faint familiar voice that whispered
"Vicky."
I will find you brother. Vicky vowed as her eyelids dropped, heavy almost as if pulled down by ten thousand horses.
I promise.