A/n: Hello! I always seem to be apologizing for long waits on chapters. Life just got really busy (not to mention the serious case of writer's block with this chapter). I hope you guys enjoy it. Read and review!

Zephyr: (n.) a gentle, mild breeze. It does not disrupt, nor cause chaos, it merely brings a pleasant sensation on a warm summer day.

Chapter 10

Erik's POV

"Monsieur Destler, you called?" Madame Blanchet asked as she entered the room. I turned away from my piano to look to her. She carried a tray with tea and some biscuits, setting them down in front of the settee on a table. "I brought you some tea and a little to eat. You have yet to ask me for a decent meal."

"Thank you, Madame Blanchet." No matter how much Madame Blanchet pushed, or Nadir for that matter, I would not ask for a decent meal. They were trivial necessities that I did not have the time for. My body could survive off the bare minimum, whether it be sleep or sustenance. I rose from the piano bench, straightening my vest. "I called you here to hear about my son. How has he been?"

"He has been his usual self, monsieur." she answered, handing me the cup of tea she had poured for me. Taking a sip, I sat down at the settee and listened as she spoke. "Though, it seems his tantrums have been more and more. Mademoiselle Clerisseau has handled them as well as she could, but could not prevent them. She seems to be doing well despite the tantrums."

"And his studies? They have not been negatively affected by his behavior, have they?" I questioned.

"Gustave missed his piano lesson on Monday, but it was made up on Tuesday. As for the rest of his studies, they have not suffered." Madame Blanchet finished, and topped off my cup of tea. "Is there anything else you need, while I am here?"

I hummed, trying to think if there was anything else. "I cannot think of anything at the minute. Just keep watch over Mademoiselle Clerisseau and make sure she obeys the rules. Alert me if she does not."

"Yes, monsieur." Madame Blanchet curtsied, and then left the room.

A week had passed and I was rather surprised Mademoiselle Clerisseau had not messed up. She was young and not as experienced as the previous nannies. I had been sure she would not have lasted her first few days, let alone the first week. Madame Blanchet had been keeping watch over her when she could. I reached for a biscuit, contemplating if I should check up on her myself. Perhaps I would catch something Madame Blanchet had missed. I took a small bite out of the savory treat and set it back down.

Rising from the settee, I proceeded to the wall behind the piano. To everyone but myself, the wall was perfectly normal. Its dark green wallpaper hid something only I was aware of. My hand ran along the wall until it found the soft spot. Pushing against it gently, I activated the pressure plate hidden. The section of the wall in front of me slid open and I entered, allowing the wall behind me to close. Once it did, I proceeded through the secret passage. First, I would investigate her room. She would never be able to tell I was even there by my use of the hidden passages throughout the house. Then I would spend some time observing her interactions with Gustave. They would not even be aware of my presence, but I would be of theirs. There was nothing going on in my house that I did not know. If you are hiding anything, woman, I will find out. Sliding the wall aside, I entered Mademoiselle Clerisseau's room.

…

Vivienne's POV

"Gustave needs to work on his table manners." I glanced over at the child, where he was watering a rose bush. That certain rose bush seemed to be his favorite, as he pampered it whenever he had the chance. We were attending his etiquette lessons with Monsieur Julian, but had not started yet. "I noted that as something for him to work on, if you care to go over it with him."

"Of course, mademoiselle." Monsieur Julian agreed eagerly. The etiquette instructor looked quite young, far younger than I would imagine one to be. He was likely in his early thirties, with short light brown hair combed back neatly. His green eyes were bright, but there were dark circles underneath. He must not have had much sleep last night. However, he appeared to be managing with the sleep he had gotten. "We will start with that."

I nodded and walked over to Gustave, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Gustave," The child set the watering can down and looked up at me. "Monsieur Julian is ready to start your lesson."

"Yes, Mademoiselle Clerisseau." He brushed the dirt of his hands and joined his instructor at the table in the middle of the room. I took up the watering can and wandered around the room to water the plants ignored by the boy. Though I was sure one of the staff members made sure to do so, it would give me something to do while waiting. As I walked around, I listened to Gustave's lesson.

"Gustave, can you recite your table manners for me?" Monsieur Julian asked the child.

"Yes, Monsieur Julian." Gustave nodded and began to do so. It took him a minute to finish listing them off for his instructor. Monsieur Julian corrected his mistakes and then asked him to act out each one. Gustave did so, for each rule that Monsieur Julian presented to him.

"Excellent, Gustave. Very well done." Monsieur Julian praised. "Don't forget them, now. Gentleman never forget such important things."

"Yes, Monsieur Julian." Gustave acknowledged.

"Now, on to your greetings."

I put the watering can away and took a seat upon a cushioned bench. Had I known I would be sitting around for at least a few hours a day, I would have brought my sewing materials with me. It would have given me something to do. I guess I could just request some from Monsieur Destler. If he agreed to it, of course. He had not made an appearance since that first night. I took it he was still cross with me for asking him to change his rules; I would be too if I were so stuck in my own way.

About an hour later, Gustave's etiquette lesson was over. I was made aware of it when Gustave tapped my shoulder, taking me from my thoughts. "Mademoiselle Clerisseau, we may leave now." he said. "My lesson is over."

Looking past the child, Monsieur Julian was packing up his belongings. The tutor looked over his shoulder at me, grinning at the sight of me looking at him. My face flushed and I returned my focus to Gustave. "Of course." Standing up, I straightened my skirts and brushed the little bit of dirt that had gotten on it. "What do you wish to do now? That is if you don't have any work to do."

"Hmm..." The boy's face twisted in thought, his lips pursed and nose scrunched. When his face relaxed into a small smile, I knew that he had figured it out. "I want to paint! Let's go, Mademoiselle Clerisseau!" I remember Nadir briefly mentioning that Gustave enjoyed painting. Gustave looked impatient and I was going to thank Monsieur Julian for his time, but was unable to do so. Gustave took my hand began to lead me out of the room quite urgently. As we passed Monsieur Julian on the way out, he caught my exasperated look and chuckled.

Gustave took us up the stairs and to his playroom, where he finally let go of my hand. I went to the chair in the corner of the room and sat down while he pulled out his painting materials from a box. He retrieved the easel from one of the corners of the room and set it up in the middle of the room. Before he started, he pulled an apron that had splotches of paint all over it over his head. He walked over to stand in front of me and turned so his back was to me. "Can you tie it?"

Taking the ties from his sides, I tied them in a bow behind his back. Then he turned back around and held out his arms to me. I took it he wanted me to roll his sleeves and unbuttoned each sleeve before rolling it up just past his elbows. "There you go." I said, with a smile. He excused himself from the room to go to his bathing room for some water. He had been such a good child since our time together last night. There had been no difficulty today, something for which I was grateful. Things would, I hoped, get better from here on out.

Gustave returned from his bathing room, bringing with him a clear jar filled with water. The jar, which I assumed was for cleaning his brushes, was set on the easel. He then filled his pallet with every color of paint he owned and then took up a paintbrush. He looked like the painters I had seen in the art store next to the boutique, but a child. I watched in silence as he began to put paint to paper, his focus on the easel only wavering to glance at me every so often. It was an odd motion and I was going to ask why he was doing so, but he spoke up when my mouth opened. "Don't move."

"Why?" I asked anyway, earning an annoyed huff from the child.

"Because you're my subject." he replied. He is painting me? My face flushed and whether it was because I was flattered or embarrassed, I did not know. I opened my mouth to ask how it was going, but Gustave was quick to shush me. "Do not speak or move until I tell you." He continued his painting and I remained silent and still, as he wanted me to.

For hours, I sat there watching him work. It was an eye-opening experience, to see him at peace while painting. He looked like every other ten-year old and was acting like one too. When he caught my gaze while painting, he would smile and tell me that I was doing great. After some time, he told me I could move now, which meant I could speak. Rising from the chair, I stretched and paced to get my blood flowing in my legs again before sitting back down. Gustave continued to work, so I assumed he was not yet finished. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I noted that dinner would be ready in about an hour. I hoped Gustave would finish the painting before then, so that he may wash up before eating.

Dinnertime drew near and I was about to ask if he could stop so he could wash up, he set his paintbrush down. "It is finished." Looking to me, he motioned for me to come to him. I rose from the chair and walked over to stand by the child. When I laid eyes on the painting, my breath hitched in my throat. "What do you think?"

"Gustave," I breathed, wishing I could reach out and feel the painting to make sure it was real. "It is beautiful." He had taken the time to paint me and I found myself looking at a mirror image of myself. In the painting, I was sitting on a stump in a beam of light, surrounded by a dark forest. Purple flowers were woven into the braid that hung over my shoulder. The all-around beauty of the painting was breathtaking, but it was not my favorite part. Sitting in my lap, with my arms around him protectively, was the spitting image of Gustave. His eyes were closed and a look of peace was on his face. Tears welled up in my eyes and I wiped them away.

Having noticed the tears, Gustave frowned. "Don't you like it? Why are you sad?" I laughed at his confusion, but was quick to explain so he would not get angered like he had before.

"Of course I like it, Gustave." I answered. "I'm not sad; these are happy tears. Your painting has made me so happy that I felt like crying." Gustave's confusion melted away and was replaced with a beaming smile. I could not believe that this was what he had imagined all on his own. Though, upon looking at the painting again, I realized it was similar to what had happened last night. Did it really mean all that much to Gustave? Was he truly this thankful for me calming his fear?

The opening of the door caught my attention and Madame Blanchet entered. "Dinner is ready." She glanced at Gustave, who was picking up after himself while messy, then back to me. "Why isn't Gustave washed up for dinner?"

"I was just about to take him." I answered. Madame Blanchet seemed unconvinced, but did not say anything on it. She told me that dinner would likely be cold by the time we got downstairs and then left. I let out a huff of annoyance, the woman not even giving me a chance to speak. It would not do well to miss dinner, so I turned to tell Gustave that cleaning up could wait until after dinner. "Gustave, come along. Let's go get you washed up."

"Alright." He set his apron down on the floor and then followed me to his bathing room. I washed every bit of paint that came off easily until all that was left was the little bit that had dried. Those spots would come off better in the bath and, therefore, could wait until after eating. We hurried downstairs and found dinner was just being set out. Dinner was much more wonderful and Gustave even utilized some of the etiquette he and Monsieur Julian had covered earlier that day. It was wonderful to see how much the boy had changed in such little time. The amount of change was unbelievable, to be honest, and I felt like I would wake from a dream at any moment.

After dinner, Gustave and I returned upstairs. I told him to go finish cleaning up while I drew his bath. He went merrily on his way and I turned on the water to begin filling the tub. As I poured some of the bubbly soap Gustave loved into the water, I heard a scream from outside the bathroom. The bottle of soap in my hand slipped out of my hand when I jumped at the sound. Immediately, I shut the water off to prevent the tub from overflowing and then ran from the room. Worry clouded my mind as I flung the bedroom door open and ran into the hall.

Bursting into the playroom, my first instinct was to find Gustave and make sure he was okay. When my eyes landed on the boy, I knew why he had screamed. To be honest, I would have screamed too, but the sight before me only made me want to cry. Gustave was kneeling on the ground, sobbing over the remains of his painting. I approached him and knelt down to sit beside him. When I placed a hand on his shoulder to comfort him, he shrugged it away and picked at the pieces of the canvas on the floor. "Gustave, who did this? Do you know?" I asked, though I wish I would have not known to do so.

"I don't know." The sadness in his voice made my chest ache. The thought that someone had sneaked in here, ruined Gustave's hard work, and just left was crushing. Who would be so heartless that they would destroy a child's painting?

"You can paint it again tomorrow." I said, hoping it would cheer him up.

"No." he sniffled.

"It wouldn't be much trouble." I placed my hand on his shoulder, not allowing him to shrug it away this time. "Come on. I'll have one of the staff clean it up for you."

"No." he said more forcefully.

"I need to get you bathed, Gustave." I squeezed his shoulder in a comforting manner, hoping to get a positive response from him. "You'll feel better after you bathe." In a matter of moments, Gustave rose to his feet and shoved me away from him.

"No I won't feel better!" Gustave shouted with his hands balled into fists at his side. Before I could say anything more, he began to tear apart everything in sight that he could. The easel was thrown across the room and the jar of water broken, spilling the murky contents on the floor. His pallet was smashed into pieces, the paint that remained on it making it a bigger mess. With his two hands, he broke every paintbrush in half and scattered the halves around the room.

The entire time his tantrum went on, I watched with fear and disappointment from the corner of the room. Things had been going so well, and yet they went bad so fast. Just hours ago, I felt like Gustave was starting to get better. If his progress had continued in the right direction, I was sure he would have become the best-behaved child I knew. Yet, here he was going in the opposite direction. His tantrum was violent and he did not stop for a moment. The nature of his tantrum, though, gave way to a quick burnout and I watched as he crumpled to the ground, in tears yet again.

Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes

Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes

I stood from the corner and watched Gustave's back heaving with his sobs.

Silver-white winters that melt into springs

These are a few of my favorite things

His sobbing lessened with my singing, so I continued, all the while, making my way towards him.

When the dog bites

When the bee stings

I knelt down next to him, hesitating only a moment before putting a hand on his back. He relaxed at the touch of my hand and I kept it there.

When I'm feeling sad

I simply remember my favorite things

I stopped singing, hoping for...

"And then I don't feel so bad." Gustave sang quietly while sitting up. He wrapped his arms around me and hugged tightly, pressing his face into my shoulder. Folding my arms around him, I allowed him to cry on me. Tears of my own ran down my face and we cried together in the midst of his destruction. Eventually, we succumbed to exhaustion and fell asleep there on the floor of his playroom.