The Point of No Return

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Christine found herself walking down a strange hallway, one she had never seen. It was dark and she could hear the sound of water dripping from somewhere, slow and steady, just like her heartbeat. She continued down the corridor, noticing that the farther she went, the darker it got.

"I'm dreaming…" Christine heard herself murmur, and although she felt fear grip her insides, she continued down into the dark.

Soon she had to squint to see. The faint light that still reached her was casting shadows along the walls, making her unsure of what was real and what was just the darkness. She was about to turn back when she saw a pin prick of light ahead. She continued towards it, the figurative moth to the flame. The light continued to grow, and soon she could see that it was coming from a room up ahead.

Except, it wasn't a room, more like a cavern. As she continued to walk she noticed that water had appeared around her.

"A cave?" Christine questioned aloud. Her voice echoed around her like thunder, confirming her suspicions. She looked around. There were curious rock formations all around her, and candles situated along them, causing the stones to twinkle. Christine felt her fear slowly dissipate, until she noticed the figure over in the corner.

"Hello?" Again, her voice boomed through the cave, yet the stranger paid no attention. She took a tentative step forward, reminding herself silently that this was just a dream. Finally, she was just a breath away from the person, a man, "Hello, can you hear me?" She whispered.

Then he turned around, and Christine gasped. It was the dark haired man from the portrait. He was dressed all in black instead of the armor, but she knew as soon as she saw those golden eyes that it was him. Those eyes were boring into her now, and Christine felt as if they could see all of her thoughts. They frightened her, yet somehow she couldn't look away. She felt herself back up, but where there had been nothing but space behind her a second ago was now solid stone. She was cornered, and the gold-eyed man was blocking her only escape. Christine felt her heart beat against her chest like it was a hammer, surely he could hear the beating echoing in this place?

Those eyes! Christine was still unable to pull herself away from them. She wanted to look around, look for help, a way out, at the ground, anywhere other than those eyes. She resented the power they had over her. She watched them as the man took another step forward, his body nearly touching her. She could feel his breath, and she felt blush burn on her face. He was much closer than what was proper, but she wasn't sure if she wanted him to move away. She felt herself shivering, although she wasn't cold, how could she be with those eyes burning into her? She watched his eyes the whole time as he lowered his head and brought his lips crashing down on hers…

Christine woke with a gasp. She brought her shaky hand to her lips; she could still feel the heat from his kiss.

"Just a dream…" Christine whispered.

"Ah, you're awake." Mistress Hollis' voiced called from her doorway, apparently proper ladies had to wear their hair pinned and their hands covered, but they did not need to knock.

Christine ran her fingers over her lips one more time. She was getting married today; she had no time to dream about strange men! She felt a blush rise to her cheeks as she hurried out of bed. No doubt Hollis had some new form of torture waiting just for her.

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Erik was a bundle of nerves, to say the least. He had ridden his horse as much as he could, but although sleep was an elusive friend for him, it was not for his stallion. He had tried his best to fall asleep, he even thought about drinking to help him, but he didn't want to have to deal with the ceremony with a blinding head ache, it was already going to be hard enough.

This ceremony is a sham to begin with he thought bitterly. His mother wanted to embarrass him, to give him a beautiful bride so that she could watch as she shunned him. Well, he wouldn't let her have that joy. He would go through with today's game, he knew that a war would follow if he refused, but that was it. He would be married by law to that girl, but he would not enjoy her as a husband should. Is that fair to her? The damned voice of his conscience whispered in his mind. No, it wasn't fair, but life wasn't fair, just because she was beautiful did not make her immune to that fact! Erik growled angrily as he stalked through the castle. No, life was not fair.

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Vincent woke early, as he did every morning. He looked over at his sleeping wife as he got out of the bed as silently as he could. His Melinda was certainly not the town's beauty, but in his eyes, she was perfect. Her caramel colored hair fell around her sleeping face like a halo, bringing a smile to the man's face.

"I can feel you staring at me…" Melinda's sleepy voice called as she blinked her eyes open.

"I wasn't staring, I was admiring." Vincent answered as he started to get dressed.

"Aren't you the charmer this morning? Have you done something wrong?" Melinda asked with good humored suspicion.

Vincent feigned indignation, "You wound me with your accusations!"

Melinda laughed as she grabbed her robe from the foot of the bed, "You better hurry or your children will wake up before you have the chance to sneak away."

Vincent nodded as he hurried to dress. His three children, all boys and all under the age of twelve, were a force to be reckoned with. They weren't hellions, they were just boys, and they hated it when he had to go to work, although they were proud that their Papa was the Captain of the Guard. "You're right…" Vincent gave his wife a quick kiss as he ducked out the door.

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Christine studied herself in the mirror as she was helped into her wedding dress. Her hair had been done up again, this time it was laced with pearls and jewels. Her maid had once again tried to line her eyes with kohl but Christine refused it. She had never been one for much make-up, and she didn't want to start now. Her corset had been tightened further than it had even been before, making breathing difficult and painful. It was all going to be worth it though, Mistress Hollis chanted as she watched Christine suffer again.

The dress came into Christine's view and she felt her mouth drop slightly. To say it was beautiful was an understatement. It was as white as fresh snow and lined with burgundy; the beading on the bodice was so intricate and tiny she knew it had taken many months to make it. Christine eyed the neckline suspiciously; it was scooped rather low. Christine touched the skirt of the dress reverently, pleasantly surprised when she felt the cool silk beneath her fingers. She felt unworthy to touch the dress, much less wear it. It was something an angel would wear, not a girl who didn't even want to get married.

"Do you know who made this dress?" Christine asked as her maid tied her into it.

The maid coughed nervously several times before answering, "Yes, Princess. I, well, my sister and me, we made it."

Christine looked down in shock. This was the maid that had done her hair today and the day before, and both times it had looked beautiful, but the dress was simply a work of art! "It's a master piece! What's your name?"

Christine could tell the attention was making her maid nervous; she was wringing her hands and avoided her gaze. "Jeanette, Your Highness."

"Jeanette, thank you for this dress, and my hair. You are an artist to be sure." Christine lauded.

"You're welcome!" The maid quickly dropped into a curtsey and went back to tying the strings.

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Gwendolyn sat in the front pew and watched her son. He was as still as a statue, yet she knew he was panicked, and that brought a pleasant smile to her face. She was dressed all in black, as was everyone else in the crowded church. After all, today was a day of mourning.

The bitter queen's attention was diverted from her inner musings to the back of the church. The doors had opened and the bride was entering.

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Christine's face was covered with a heavy veil, and her eyes were clouded with a thin layer of tears, although she did her best to fight them off. She would not pity herself. She could learn to love her husband, and her country would be safe. She was the key. She could do this.

Christine continued to silently chant her mantra as she walked down the carpeted aisle. She watched her feet as she walked, afraid to trip over her beautiful dress and ruin it. Soon, she had reached the steps. She saw the steps, and she saw the black shoes of her husband, but she was too afraid to look up.

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Erik felt his heart stop as the doors to the church opened. There she was, an absolute vision of heaven. She took small, agonizingly slow, steps. Erik felt his stomach churn as she inched nearer and nearer. His palms were sweating, his breathing erratic and painful. Could his mother tell? Was she laughing even now?

And then, she was there. Standing next to him, head bent towards the ground. Erik turned to face the priest, thankful to have a reason to look away from the seraph before him.

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Christine continued to look down as the priest performed the ceremony. The majority of it was in Latin, so it was long and tedious. Her nerves were beyond frazzled, and she just wanted to have this over and done with.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Christine heard those fateful words.

"You may now kiss the bride…" Christine turned to face her now husband, although her eyes were still downcast. She could see his hands rise to the bottom of her veil, was it just her or were they shaking as badly as hers were? Then slowly, ever so slowly, she felt her veil slip up and over her head. She lifted her eyes slowly and nearly gasped.

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"You may kiss the bride…" To Erik, he may have been reading off his death sentence. Kiss her? He felt torn. He had to, to finalize the marriage, but he couldn't. He felt the panic in him rising and his anger flared. This girl was not the first he had ever kissed! She's the first since, no he would not think it. Today was the anniversary, but he would not think on it. With new resolve he turned to face his bride and began the arduous task of raising her veil.

Once he had laid the gossamer fabric against her shining curls he looked down at her. He had yet to see her this close and he felt his body flood with desire. Her dark eyelashes rested against her porcelain skin like butterfly wings. But then she lifted those lashes, and brought her eyes level with him and he had to use all the will power he had left not to gasp.

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Gwendolyn watched in twisted amusement as the priest announced it was time to kiss the bride. She knew Erik was fighting a battle, to kiss or not to kiss, and she felt a sick sense of pleasure. How very sad that kissing a beautiful girl was anguish. How very sad that the whole kingdom knew it, yet pretended otherwise. At least, everyone did except for her. She continued to watch as Erik hesitated, watched as their eyes met, and then watched as he lowered his head and brought his mouth down on hers.

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Christine stood face to face with the man from the painting and her dream…almost. The right side of his face was covered in a white mask, yet the left side was indisputably the one she had already seen. And those eyes, they were there again, burning and smoldering right to her soul.

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Erik stood transfixed by her eyes. They were the most captivating shade of blue he had ever seen. He could see the apprehension and fear in them, but something else as well. It was that something that gave him the courage to lean his head down and place his lips against hers.

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Christine felt his lips like they were a hot brand. They sent a charge straight down to her toes. She felt her heartbeat speed up to what she was sure was an unsafe tempo and her body lean closer to the man of its own accord. Then, it was over. Christine felt the sudden absence of his lips and opened her eyes, blush raging into her face like a fire over dry paper. She quickly dropped her head down, wishing for nothing more to disappear.

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Erik knew as soon as his lips touched hers that she would be his undoing. His blood turned to fire in his veins, and then she leaned into him and he wondered for an instant if he had died. His arm ached to wrap around her little waist and pull her even closer, his tongue yearned for a chance to taste hers, but then his mind reminded him she will never kiss you again, once she knows. Erik pulled away from the kiss, failing to notice the look of disappointment and longing in his wife's blue eyes.

"Christine." He heard a voice whisper beside him as the people in the pews stood and clapped, his mother noticeably absent from the celebration.

"My name, its Christine…" He looked over at her, surprised to see a small, timid smile on her face, "I figured you would want to know, since we just got married…"

Erik felt like smiling for the first time in years.

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A/N: A little longer than I usually write, but there was no good stopping place. Our pair finally meets! Things are going to start getting a lot angst-ier in the next couple of chapters thought, because let's be honest; it isn't Erik and Christine if there's no angst.