It's a new chapter, whee! I don't have much to say about this one, so enjoy! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, alerted and favourited!
Lyrics are again from Loreena McKennit's 'Neverending road'. I don't own anything.
"Oh God, Erik." Christine's heart stuttered madly in her chest and her knees started shaking. This could not be possible! Was he dead, or still alive but severely wounded? How did he get on the horse? Thousands of questions ran through her mind but she forcefully pushed them all back, needing to focus on how to help him. She had to get him from the horse somehow and into the care of a physician. Sending a quick prayer to the heavens, she stepped to the other side of the horse, her small hands gripping the man's waist. She tugged, hoping she would not injure him further, feeling victorious when she felt him slide from the saddle. Thankfully he was not wearing his armor, so it made it a little bit easier.
She was not prepared to support his weight and she tumbled onto her backside, her legs cushioning his fall against her. He was heavy and she was sure she would be bruised tomorrow but she was past caring when a groan erupted from the man's throat. Her heart pounded against her rib cage and her breath fell in short gasps, the rain making her hair wet and sticking uncomfortably to her face and neck. That sound was the most beautiful she had ever heard; it was the sound of hope - he was alive!
Christine moved gently, trying not to jar him even more and cradled him to her body, his head nestled in the crook of her elbow. Running his hands across his face, she brushed back the clingy strands of black hair, exposing his features. She was aware he was not wearing his mask and the sight of the right side of his face startled her but she was more worried about the amount of blood that was covering him and her hands, warm and sticky. Despite his groan earlier, Erik seemed to be unconscious. She ran her fingers along the left side of his face, whispering most urgently.
"Erik, wake up, my love." There was no answer and she bit back a sob. She lowered her head to his chest, trying to hear his heart beating but all she could hear was the rush of blood pounding in her ears and her own harsh breathing. Bending over his face, she noted with relief his short soft exhales against her skin. Swallowing hard, she yelled, her voice echoing around the courtyard.
"Help me! Somebody, please!" She looked back at him, her eyes scanning his whole form, trying to ascertain his wounds. His clothing was black and wet and she had no way of telling if it was blood or rain that made it so. She heard heavy footfalls as they neared but she could only focus on Erik's dear face. Suddenly, he was being lifted from her by a couple of strong hands of the guards and she was helped to her feet by Meg's caring hands. She heard voices around her, suddenly too loud after the quiet that settled over the castle during the night. She heard someone bark instructions to fetch the physician but her eyes could only follow the unconscious man as he was carried inside the castle.
"Come, my Lady. You should go and rest, it will be a long night." Meg said gently, linking her arm with Christine's, worried that the Lady might faint. Meg was shocked but relieved that the Marquis was alive and hoped that his injuries were not fatal. She did not think Lady Christine would be able to withstand more of this torture. Christine followed wordlessly as the maid led her back to her chambers, lost in thought and worry for Erik's life. She wanted to be near him and if this night were meant to be his last hours, she did not want him to be alone but instead enveloped by her love. She was so lost in the haze of her mind that she did not notice Prince Raoul running towards them. When he took in Christine's form, his expression turned into horror.
"Christine? What happened? What is all this blood? I heard screaming!" For the first time she looked down at herself, paling at the amount of blood covering her white nightgown and hands; Erik's precious blood. She swallowed the bile that rose to her throat and breathed through her nose deeply before raising her eyes to Raoul's.
"It's not mine. Erik, he is-" She could not finish the sentence but by the imploring look on her face he understood nevertheless. He nodded and his eyes slid to Meg.
"Please, take care of Lady Christine, I will see how the Marquis is faring." He dashed off again and Christine was left in silence with Meg as they journeyed to her chambers. Once inside, the maid started hurriedly preparing a fresh nightgown from the closet. She cried out in alarm when she turned back, finding her Lady retching violently into an empty basin. Meg immediately sprung to action, pouring a bit of water into Christine's wash basin from the pitcher and soaking a cloth in the cool water. She proceeded to brush her mistress' hair aside after she was finished emptying her stomach, pressing the cool cloth against the nape of her neck.
"Are you all right, my Lady?"
"Aye, thank you, Meg."
"I will tell the lads to bring you the tub, so you can clean up and relax."
"That would be lovely, thank you."
Ten minutes later she stood by the wooden tub filled with hot water and began to undress. She flung the blood soaked nightgown as far as she could, not wanting to see the dark patches as the proof of Erik's injuries. It pained her that she could not be with him at the moment and banished every thought of him dying from her mind. She could not think such things or she would surely go mad. Christine immersed herself in the rose scented water but did not tarry long as she anticipated the news of Erik's condition.
She dressed in a clean nightgown and put a dressing gown on top of it. She wrung her hands as she paced along her chambers before she came to sit on the cushioned window seat, her teeth worrying her lower lip, her foot tapping in anxiety. The fire roaring in the hearth in her room did nothing to dispel the chill in her body. Half an hour later, there was a knock on her door and Raoul's voice announcing his presence. She called out to let him enter and stood from her seat abruptly as he did so, her heart beating furiously in her chest. She looked at him with wide eyes, praying that he would start to speak soon to ease her troubled mind. The Prince looked tired but his eyes were clear and that gave her hope.
"Erik sustained a couple of injuries and while none of them were fatal, he did lost quite a bit of blood. The physician said that he needs plenty of rest and frequent meals to build up his strength again once he regains consciousness. He will live, Christine." The sudden relief at Raoul's words made her knees tremble and she reached a hand to brace herself against the stone wall. She saw him take a few steps towards her, his hand supporting her elbow lest she fainted. He led her back to the window seat and then both sat down.
"Truly?" She whispered, still disbelieving.
"Aye." His grin was wide as his eyes sparkled. He embraced her and she fell against him in relief, letting a few cleansing tears escape from beneath her closed eyelids. She drew back and looked at him almost shyly.
"Can I...that is, may I see him? I need to be with him." She was grateful that they had talked last week and Raoul did not harbour any ill will towards her for loving another man. On the contrary, he had been understanding and even happy that his cousin found love.
"He is sleeping at the moment, but I think that you can visit him. The physician stitched his wounds with Anne's help, although he might still look a little bit pale." Christine nodded in understanding; she cared not for Erik's appearance, she just had to be close to him. Raoul led her through the corridors in silence; the castle was now quiet after all the chaos that erupted mere hours ago. Christine smiled as they neared Erik's chambers; she could see Apollo lying faithfully in front of his master's door. In her distress she had not seen the dog leave her chambers but was glad that they would be reunited once again after Erik woke up.
"Do not stay long, Christine. You need your sleep as well." She promised the Prince she would not remain long in Erik's chambers and give him a smile to wish him goodnight. Once he rounded the corner, she opened the door quietly, not wishing to rouse the man inside. Stepping over the sleeping dog, she entered the room, noting the pleasant warmth that enveloped her. Flames were licking at the wood in the fireplace, but she could see the fire was dwindling, so before she did anything else, she closed the door and hurried to add more wood to the hearth. Satisfied with her work she rose and settled her eyes on the bed.
Her heart thundered as she beheld Erik's form, his chest bare save for the bandage around his stomach, his lower body covered by the sheets. Her eyes roamed across his features like a woman starved, memorizing every dip and curve and wincing at every bruise and cut on his skin, every bandaged injury. She watched as his chest rose and fell, afraid to move her eyes elsewhere, needing to know he was alive and breathing. She knelt by his bed, reverently taking his hand in between her smaller ones and gently brought it to her lips, her eyes never leaving his face.
Christine traced her eyes over the familiar perfection of his left cheek, then slowly moved to the newly exposed right cheek. She had never seen such an injury or defect and wondered where he got it. She had not been so naive to think the mask hid a flawless right cheek but she had not been expecting this. The skin was distorted, forming lumps of flesh across his whole cheek and eyebrow, his right nostril merged into one of the lumps under his eye. His bottom right eyelid drooped slightly, unsupported by the firm material of his mask. Of course it had been startling to look at for the first time, but as her eyes roved across the bumps, her heart ached with longing. She wanted to touch him, to explore the texture of his ravaged side but did not dare to lest she hurt him. She did not know whether that part of his face caused him pain or not. Smiling lightly to herself, she hoped to find out later.
She ran her lips across the back of his hand and for the first time since he arrived, she felt everything melt from her. The torturing grief gave way to naked relief, so potent it would have brought her to her knees if she weren't already sitting. She did not stop her tears from falling, simply let them tumble down her cheeks and onto his hand as she wept.
It had been three days since Erik came back to the castle. The news spread like wildfire all around and the black flags were replaced by much brighter ones with the family's Coat of Arms. He had not yet awoken properly, having only bouts of consciousness where Anne would make him drink water. He had been hardly cognizant of his surroundings at those times, usually falling asleep right after his head met the pillow again. Despite that, Christine found herself in good spirits, often sneaking into his chambers in the evenings to sit by him, hold his hand and sing to him, hoping her voice would carry over into his dreams. She wished she could take care of him and change his bandages but she knew it would be very inappropriate and it would cause a lot of questions. And so she left the task to Anne's skillful hands, while Christine had secretly spent as much of her time with him as she could, even though he had been oblivious to her presence.
Tonight she padded secretly from her room after everyone went to bed, sneaking into Erik's chambers and sitting beside him on the bed. His skin was beginning to regain its previous colour, so he was not so deathly pale anymore. She gazed at him lovingly, a song escaping her lips. She chose the same one as the day he had left for the war.
"The road now leads onward, I know not where
I feel in my heart that you will be there
Whenever a storm comes, whatever our fears
The journey goes on as your love ever nears
Here is my heart, I give it to you
Take me with you across this land
These are my dreams, so simple and few
Dreams we hold in the palm of our hands"
The song came to an end and Christine sat there in silence, just cradling his hand between hers. A soft moan came from the sleeping man and she watched as he stirred, her heart in her throat. He had never woken in her presence and she hoped that this was the time that he would be aware of his surroundings for the first time. The moan turned into a groan and she watched his face carefully, elated when his eyes fluttered open. His hand tightened around her fingers and she saw the moment he was aware of someone else's presence. Erik turned his head to her direction and at last, iat last/i, she gazed into his piercing green eyes, which, to her joy, sparked with recognition. She swallowed, not knowing what to say but was spared when he started to speak, low and hoarse from days of inactivity.
"I told you I would return." She let out a relieved chuckle, which to her ears sounded more like a choked sob. She felt his hand tighten around hers.
"I would prefer you return in one piece and uninjured, my Lord." She teased, happy to see an amused quirk of the corner of his lips. "How are you feeling?" Erik pondered her question as he tried to stretch his body, his hand coming up to his bandaged stomach as the movement caused him pain.
"I'm fine." Christine knew he was only trying to placate her but she had seen the discomfort in his face. However, she let it slide and released his hand.
"Would you like to sit up?" He nodded mutely and she bent over him, gently helping him to an upright position, fluffing a pillow behind his back. He leaned back with a sigh and she reached for the goblet with water, bringing it to his lips and allowing him to drink little sips.
"Thank you." They sat in silence for a few moments. Christine's eyes lowered to her clasped hands in her lap, hoping to hide the tears that threatened to fall. Unfortunately for her, Erik was perceptive and the lone tear that tumbled down her cheek caught his attention. "I hope these tears are not shed on my account, my Lady." He teased her but could not allow him to distract her. She sniffed and looked at him in all seriousness.
"We thought you were dead. I do not want to go through all of that ever again, Erik." His expression softened, his earlier teasing forgotten as he regarded her quietly. She looked away from his face, instead letting her eyes fall on the bandage wrapped around his stomach. His touch on her hand, however, brought her eyes back to his.
"I am sorry I caused you pain. But I'm here. I'm fine." She let out a soft sigh, allowing herself to smile lightly.
"That you are." She reached to touch his face, her palm molding against his right cheek, seeking his warmth. Yet the moment he felt her touch, his eyes hardened and she realized it had been a mistake. His hand caught her wrist in a vice like grip, forcing her hand away from his face before covering his deformity.
"Where is my mask, Christine?" Erik asked, his voice steely and on edge, his eyes flashing in anger. She was taken by surprise and almost recoiled from the fury in his voice. She did not understand his reaction; he had been perfectly fine moments earlier before he realized he was not wearing his mask. "Where is my mask, Christine?!" This time it was more of a demand than a question and Christine stood abruptly, her heart thundering in her chest. She had seen him this angry before, but never with her. He had not been this angry with her when she had visited him in his tent to confront him during the jousting tournament. She swallowed at the visible rage in his eyes and blindly reached for his mask on his bedside table. It had been cleaned of all his blood and placed on the table for his easy reach, right next to her necklace. Wordlessly, she handed the white object to him, watching as he put it on his face. She hated that he felt he must cover his face in front of her, loathed the white piece of leather with passion.
"Go." He growled menacingly and when she didn't move, he roared. "Leave!" Obeying his harsh command, she wasted no time and hurried from the room.
