The Wedding Night

---

Christine made sure she kept her eyes focused on her plate. All around her people were talking and laughing and eating. This was the celebratory feast of her wedding, and next to sat her new husband, and he seemed to be enjoying himself just as much as she was. They had been ushered to the feast immediately following their ceremony, and Christine did her best to keep a smile plastered on her face as she entered. The feast was much like the one she attended last night, she even recognized a few faces, yet the cheer that was surrounding her only amplified her own sadness. She had tried catching her new husband's eye a couple times once they had taken their seats, yet he seemed determined to keep his masked face away from her.

I wonder why he wears it... Christine caught herself wondering more than once. Don't be stupid Christine, people only wear a mask to hide something. But what? Christine's curiosity gnawed at her, but something inside kept her from asking. In fact, she had not spoken a word to the man since she told him her name. He probably thought she was half mute, or stupid, or both. Christine continued to sit in silence and eat her meal, noticing that he didn't touch his plate. Perhaps he was unhappy with her? Had she already managed to offended him? What if he tries to annul the marriage! The frantic thought ran through her head, but Christine dismissed it. Nothvale was the one who requested her! Surely they wouldn't send her home just because her intended found her...what? Was she not pretty enough? Was she too different looking from the other Nothvale women? Christine continued to ponder, but she could not find the answer.

Soon, the meal was finished and the tables were pushed to the side walls for dancing. The minstrels tuned up their instruments before they started a lively tune. Christine watched with a smile as the couples got up to dance. Back in Flerin, there had always been dancing after supper and Christine was glad that dancing was not something forbidden in this strict land.

"Christine, do you know how to dance?" Christine turned her head at the sound of the Queen's voice. She was standing next to her chair, a smile so obviously fake plastered on her face that Christine wondered why she even bothered. Queen Gwendolyn looked older than her own mother, or perhaps age had not been as kind? Her wrinkles sat deep in her skin, which looked papery and too pale. Her lips had withered away to thin lines, but she continued to wear a heavy layer of stain on them. Maybe, once upon a time, she had been considered handsome, but now she was nothing but a shell of her former self. Christine also noticed something in her dark eyes, a glint that she did not recognize when she looked into her own mother's eyes, it seemed cold, no matter how nice her words may have sounded.

"I do." Christine replied with a polite smile.

"Wonderful! I know that my son is a great dancer. Erik, why aren't you dancing with your bride?" Christine noticed how the Queen's voiced changed from an amiable chatter to almost a bark as she directed her voice towards her son.

Christine was about to open her mouth and protest, if Erik had wanted to dance with her she was sure he would have asked by now, but she was stopped as she felt a hand grasp her own. She looked down at the black gloved hand, it belonged to Erik. Before another word was spoken she was being led to the dance floor.

Erik towered nearly a foot over his new bride. Christine had to strain her neck to look up at his face, although she wasn't sure why she bothered, he did not once look down at her. He kept clenching his jaw, almost like he was in pain. Christine felt her face burn as she dropped her gaze back to his rather broad chest. She silently marveled at how much bigger he was than any man she had ever met. The men back in Flerin were not nearly so broad chested, not even Raoul who worked hard in the stables all day had the obvious muscles she felt in her new husband's stiff form. She was careful to perform all of the steps of the dance correctly, she was afraid what her husband would do if she embarrassed him in front of everyone, but still he seemed like dancing with her was torturous. Christine felt her throat sting, a sure sign that tears were threatening to overflow her blue eyes. She fought them off, and not a moment too soon the song ended.

Erik released her as soon as the song ended and he silently stalked back to his chair. Christine stood frozen for a moment and was about to head back when a familiar voice called to her.

"Princess Christine, may I?" Christine turned to see the guard she met at the Nothvale Inn. He was bowing and offering his hand, and a warm smile, and Christine immediately sighed her relief.

She was about to accept his request, but then her thoughts traveled back to her mysterious new husband. Would this anger him? She turned to look at him, but he was, not surprisingly, looking away from her. "Don't worry about Erik, he won't object. And I can assure you that I am a happily married man." Christine heard the man reassure, and she turned her head back to him and accepted his dance request without another moment's thought.

"Your name is Vincent, right?" Christine asked as he lightly placed his arm around her tiny waist.

The guard captain nodded, "You have an excellent memory to go with your excellent dancing, Princess." Vincent smiled as he twirled his partner around the dance floor.

She felt a blush tinge her cheeks, "Thank you, sir. You are an excellent partner."

"You are too kind to an old man!" Vincent jested and Christine felt herself laugh, the first time she had since arriving in Nothvale. They continued to dance and joke through the song, and just as she had been begging for her dance with Erik to end, she found spirits softly sink when her dance with Vincent came to an end.

"Thank you for the wonderful dance, My Lady, but I am afraid I must return you to your brooding husband before my wife accuses me of neglect." Vincent said as he dropped his arm and bowed his thanks.

"So he always broods like this? It isn't just me?" Christine asked, hope rising in her chest.

Vincent laughed heartily, "Oh no, you'll see in time. Erik is a brooder by nature, but he is a good man. He served under me for a number of years and I would trust him with not only my life, but the life of my family as well."

Christine immediately thought back to the portrait she had been so taken with the day before, remembering the armor the two men wore. They must have been part of the army! And if Erik served under Vincent, then surely the blonde man did as well! "Who is the blonde man in the portrait with my husband in the grand entrance hall?" Christine asked just as Vincent was about to walk about.

At once, Christine regretted her question. She saw as Vincent's kind eyes clouded over, and he shook his head sadly, "That, My Lady, is not my tale to tell."

Christine apologized and parted ways from the captain, although her mind continued to dwell on their conversation.

---

Erik watched as Christine danced with Vincent, envy coursing through him. How easily they seemed to move across the stone floor, and how happy she looked, chatting and laughing with him like she had known him her whole life!

You could have had that, did you not just dance with her yourself? His mind sneered at him. Yes, he had just danced with her! But to think that he could just gayly float around the floor with her was absurd. His mother knew that, which is exactly why she suggested he dance with her in the first place. Erik turned his gold eyes to his mother's seat, not at all surprised to see her watching Christine and Vincent like a snake eying its prey. She must be feeling insanely proud of herself, and Erik felt his blood boil. She may have the upper hand at the moment, but she would not defeat him.

Erik's attention was drawn away from his mother when he heard a sweet voice at his right. Christine's dance had ended and she had returned to her seat next to him.

"Vincent assured me that he had your approval to dance with me, My Lord..."

Erik turned his head to look at the girl, the first time he had allowed himself to since kissing her. The worry in her blue eyes did not slip past him, "He did. Vincent is a good man, I trust he treated you with nothing but respect?"

Christine nodded and offered him a small smile, a smile that he did not return, "He said the same about you. That you were a good man."

Erik arched his one visible brow, "Did he now?" he murmured, but offered nothing more.

Christine again nodded. She was glad that he was finally looking at her, and even gladder that it was not a look of disgust, but she found his golden eyes robbed her of her ability to speak. After a moment she managed to find her voice again, "He also mentioned you served under him for a number of years."

Christine watched as his body noticeably stiffened and she bit her lip, this was obviously a topic she should not have brought up.

"I did." Erik replied and promptly looked back to the dance floor, his eyes gazing at no one couple in particular.

Christine yearned to ask him more, to be more specific, she yearned to ask him about the second man in the painting, but she was no fool. Maybe one day she would learn how to converse with her husband, but it would not be now.

---

The night continued. Various nobles and people of the court came and wished their congratulations to the new couple. Soon the minstrels played their final song, and then, the celebrations were over.

Christine felt any icy wave of fear. The celebrations were over, which meant, it would be time to go to bed. Her wedding bed. Christine thought back to the night she snuck to Raoul's humble cottage. That had been a foolish move, had he accepted her offer right away and gone through with her half-thought scheme, surely her new husband would have rejected her. He did not look like the type who would have been understanding. Christine was led to her room by Jeanette and the maid quickly got busy preparing her for her husband. She removed the pins from her hair and then she removed the beautiful wedding dress, then her corset and dress stockings. Christine was trembling like a leaf by the time Jeanette finished helping her into her nightgown and robe.

"Come along now..." Jeanette gently cooed to her as she clasped Christine's icy hand and led her down the many corridors that would take them to the prince's chambers.

Christine was unsure of what to expect, but she knew that a large gathering of people was not it. There had to be at least ten people in the room. She looked at Jeanette, confusion written all over her beautiful face.

"They are here to bless your marriage bed. There's a priest in the back, I'm sure." Jeanette explained as she slowly released Christine's hand and led her to the throng of men. She was right, there, at the very back, was a priest. He held a bible and a bottle of water, Christine assumed it was holy water from the church, but he did not met her gaze. Jeanette helped Christine into the bed and then promptly left the room.

Christine continued to shake with fear as the priest read passages out of the bible. She paid no heed to what he was saying, instead she busied herself with looking around the room. It was a beautiful chamber, although it was nothing at all like hers. The floor was covered in a lush rug, and the walls were covered in dark tapestries. The desk, chairs, settees, and the bed were all made out of a beautiful dark wood and adorned with maroon and gold. The very large fireplace kept the room flooded with warmth and even though it lit up the room, it still felt very dark. She did not know her husband well yet she felt that the room suited him. She continued to scan the room, looking for the man in the mask, but she did not see him.

Christine's attention was drawn back to the priest when she felt the chill of water hit her head. Apparently he was dousing the bed and her with the holy water. Christine wanted to brush it off, but she didn't know if that was allowed. Her mother, nor Augustus, had told her anything about this ritual, and she wondered if it belonged to Nothvale alone. As soon as the priest seemed satisfied that enough water had been spread, he murmured an 'amen,' as did the rest of the men and turned to exit the room.

Christine sat alone in the bed, she heard nothing but the soft crackle the fire made as it burned. Maybe Erik would not show? Don't be absurd, Christine. He's a man and its his wedding night, Christine scolded herself.

Suddenly she saw a shape enter from the shadows of the room. She bit her lip and watched as he walked towards her, the white of his mask eerily illuminated in the glow of the fire. So this was it. He was here, and now he would join her in the bed, and they would become husband and wife not only in the eyes of the law but also in the eyes of God. As her husband approached, Christine noticed that he was still in the same clothes from earlier.

She watched with bated breath as he finally reached the bed. Her eyes were locked on his, she knew that hers had to be filled with fear, yet his looked emotionless. How many women did he bed before me? It only scares me because I have never done it... Christine felt a blush burn her cheeks. If he wasn't displeased with her before, surely he would be after tonight.

Christine watched as Erik threw back the many covers of the bed and she hastily scrambled to make sure her nightgown covered her legs, but immediately felt silly. They were about to make love, he would be seeing a lot more than her legs. Christine's attention was drawn from her nightgown back to her husband, his right arm held something.

Christine squinted as she tried to discern what it was in the dim light of the room and she felt her heart stop it's frantic beatings when she was able to make it out.

It was a knife.

"M-My L-Lord? W-w-what are you doing?" Christine's voice was laced with fear, and she felt hysteria quickly boiling to the surface as she backed as far away from the side of the bed that Erik now stood before. Had the treaty been a trick? Perhaps Nothvale was determined to go to war, and now she was to be murdered?

Erik simply stared at the scared girl, he didn't offer a single word. He raised his arm slightly and he heard Christine's strangled sob, she was begging him not to kill her. Silently he lowered the blade again and drew it over the palm of his left hand, immediately an angry red line of blood pooled at the surface. He grabbed the sheets and held them for a long moment before dropping them and walking out of the room.

Christine watched in shock as he ran the blade along his own hand, her frightened tears running down her face. What was he doing?! Was this another Nothvale ritual? Why had no one told her about it?! She looked down at the bloody sheets, unaware that her husband had left the room until she heard the soft click of the door as it closed behind him. Understanding washed over her and she collapsed on the pillow, her thankful tears nearly choking her.

---

Erik fumed as he bandaged his bleeding palm. She thought he was going to kill her! Honestly, could he blame her? He had entered the room through the secret passage behind one of his tapestries, and then without warning pulled a knife out. But, kill her? Did he look that frightening? If only she knew the voice in his mind whispered again. Erik roared and turned over the small table that held the medical supplies. She didn't know, and she never would!

---

Christine woke in the morning by a barrage of people entering the room. She looked around frantically, again unsure of what was going on. She spotted Jeanette's face and called to her.

"Jeanette, what's going on!?"

Jeanette hurried to her mistress' side and helped her out of bed, noticing how her face burned to be seen in her nightgown by so many strangers. "They've come to check the sheets, Your Highness."

Christine watched in horror as one of the men ripped the soiled sheets from the bed and carried it out of the room, "Where are they taking them??"

"To the queen."

---

Queen Gwendolyn stared in amazement at the bloody sheets that had been brought to her. Erik had gotten up the nerve to actually consummate the marriage!? She felt her anger build in her stomach.

"Are you surprised, Mother?" Erik asked coolly as he entered her private chambers.

She spun around and glared at her son, her hate nearly tangible, "Why yes, I am. I didn't think you would be able to face your bride, not on the anniversary of that." She spit as she pointed a finger towards the right side of Erik's face.

Erik felt his own anger flare, but he did not let it show, "I am too. It must have been because you picked out such a lovely bride for me. Maybe I should thank you for sending her to me, she has already proved to be a wonderful gift."

Gwendolyn balled her fists and screeched, no words suitable enough for her anger. Erik laughed a cold laugh.

"Really Mother, a temper tantrum? At your age?"

"GET OUT! DAMN YOU, GET OUT!" The queen shouted and threw a decorative vase towards the spot her son occupied, although it fell miserably short of its target.

Erik simply tsk'd her behavior before calmly stepping out of the room.