Chapter Twenty-Five: My Erik

Author's Note: A special thank you to my friend N.S.L. Jewelles for all of her help and advice, thanks, my friend, your words of encouragement are very much appreciated. In this chapter a little bit about Erik's history with Edmund will be revealed. Please read and review.

"Erik, please, let me look at her!"

"Out, Antoinette!" Erik demanded. The older woman did not seem to be hearing properly.

"Let me just see if she has any wou-"

"OUT!"

The woman stumbled back as Erik's thunderous shout seemed to rock the walls with its force. Antoinette stared at him for a moment, seeing the absolute rage in the masked man's eyes, and sensing from his body language that he would very well hurt anyone who double crossed him in those moments. Sighing and bowing she silently made her way out of her master's chambers, deciding she would have to keep Nicolette busy until Sir Erik was ready to let anyone near his wife.

Meanwhile, Erik turned from the window to lay eyes on the woman lying in his bed. There was a tightness in his chest that did not seem to want to go away, and it felt very hard to breathe. He had had this feeling once before: the first time he had ever gone out to battle. It had been fear that first time, fear that he would see his death at the end of anothers blade and never be able to achieve the life he wanted for himself. The feeling now was the same, but for different reasons. He was feeling fear, immense fear. Edmund had given Christine back to him without any sort of hesitation, and that was unlike the man. What did he hope he would gain by giving her back?

Erik had a history with both Edmund and Gabrielle that ran very deep. Memories of that 'history' were buried and locked away in the back of his mind, a part of him that he did not wish to examine too closely. And he could only image what horrors Edmund would force Christine to face while she was in that place. The man's hatred for him was enough to have Christine killed, and the fact that she was still alive was a miracle that he did not take lightly. Hopefully there were no scars on Christine that lay beneath the surface, in her heart...

Not too many years ago Erik would have trusted Edmund with his own life, as well as Christine's. Of course certain events had made such a statement now seem foolish. Erik sometimes found it amazing how much difference a few years in a person's life could change the future so drastically. When he was younger, before becoming a knight, he would have never believed that Edmund would turn out to be such a hated enemy, and have the man feel the same way towards him.

At the tender age of seven summers Erik had found it difficult to constantly stay at the chateau, for his father shunned his very presence and with the mask on his face, friends were not easy to come by. He had begun to try and learn the things he would need to become a squire, and then hopefully, a knight, but wished for a simple companion to help pass the long hours of the day. Erik's father had been close friends with the neighboring lord, Devereux, and the man often came for feasts in his father's hall.

Erik remembered clearly the night that Lord Devereux came with his own special guest. The wind had been howling unmercifully, the snow thick on the ground, and the sky dark, not a single star in sight. The man came riding in with his knights surrounding him and another steed standing close to his own.

On this steed stood the figure of a small boy, head held high and shoulders stiff against the cold. Erik had been in the stables when they arrived, and he remembered peering into the darkness, trying to get a better look at the small boy on such a large horse. For years Lord Devereux had come to the chateau, but in all those years Erik never remembered the man bringing a guest with him, especially a guest of this stature!

Erik's father, Lord Desslar, had strode out with all the of the confidence he wore like a second skin. Lord Devereux had dismounted and gone to his friend, embracing him like a brother. Erik remembered wondering what it would feel like to be hugged by the man he undeniably looked up to, and felt a coldness clutch at his heart. Thoughts like that were not ones that true knights had, he had to keep telling himself that or he would never stand the emotions that were buried deep in his heart. The boy was brought to Erik's father and introduced and the little masked boy hiding in the shadows felt a stab of jealousy erupt in his breast at the sight of his own father shaking hands with the boy before him. Erik had never had such respect shown to him...who was this boy to gain this respect from Lord Desslar?

Erik had run into the chateau as his father led their guests inside, praying that he would be introduced to this little boy. No one his own age ever came to visit, and his heart pounded in his chest in anticipation. A feast had been lain out and he realized that Lord Desslar must have already been expecting these guests, and he knew that his father had no intention of introducing him.

Erik sighed, remembering these painful memories. His father had never done anything to show that he cared for him, and that time was no different. Glacing at Christine, he made sure she was alright before he slipped back into his thoughts...

He clearly remembered sulking outside once more, knowing that to stare and wish would not get him any closer to meeting this boy, and as far as he was concerned, wishful thinking would never get him what he wanted. He stared up at the dark, ominous clouds that loomed overhead and found a place to sit on the cold stone of the blockade. Tilting his head back his insightful eyes gazed up at the sky. Why would his father not show pride in him? Had he not done everything a boy could do to impress the only man he looked up to? Lord Desslar was a master swordsmen, and Erik had been practicing all summer in the hopes of showing that he could be a knight, and not bring dishonor to his family name. But not once had the older man's gaze strayed to his only living heir.

"Hello?"

His little body stiffened at the sound of another's voice, and slowly he turned his head toward the sound. Even in the darkness he had been able to make out the figure of the very boy he had been so keen on meeting not mere moments prior. On instinct he had turned his head slightly away, concealing his mask from view. It would not due if his father found out that he had scared the boy Lord Devereux had brought along with him, and the welts on Erik's back were still stinging from the last whipping he had received at his father's hands.

"I am Edmund Devereux...Lord Devereux's son..."

Ah, no wonder the man had brought this child along with him. Deciding to show off his son and heir. Erik had felt a stab of jealousy enter his heart, wishing, just once, that he could be shown off by his own father.

"Are you Lord Desslar's son?" Edmund inquiered. Erik nodded.

"My name is Erik..."

Even with the blackness that surrounded them Erik could clearly see the other boy smile in delight. No one had ever looked at him with happiness before, and the feeling seemed to be contagious, for a small smile slowly appeared on Erik's face.

From that moment on the pair were nigh unseperable. Though both Lord Desslar and Lord Devereux disapproved, they decided to allow both the children this one friendship, for once they began their accension to knighthood, there would be little time for play and laughter. The days spent with his new friend were moments that Erik new he would always cherish. The two shared almost everything, and often called themselves brothers, knowing that there was more than blood that made two people that close. They shared a similar adoration for weaponry and battle techniques, and the two would often sit and watch the knights as they went through their daily exercises, both having dreams of one day become better than the men they saw before them.

Neither would know of the legend Erik would become as the Dark Prince, and neither could guess what fate had in store for them. Erik had learned that with time, everyone changed. Certain events made it impossible to go back to a time of brotherhood, and he would never have that feeling back when it came to Edmund. Their bond had been shattered, and not even a brotherly love could put back the pieces.

Sighing, Erik brought himself back into the present, turning from the window to look at his wife. A small frown creased the delicated skin between her brows, and a frown adorned her lucious lips. She looked so beautiful lying there, like a sleeping goddess, and just for a moment he could pretend that she had not been taken from him and everything was going to be like it was before she had left.

He remembered all too clearly the last time they had been together. The way she had wantonly allowed him to touch her intimately, the way she had welcomed his touch with abandon. His mind flashed with images of her pressed against that tree, her head thrown back, the gracefulness of her neck offered to him without reservations. And the way she had unlaced her dress, tempting him with her breasts. He had never had a moment in his life like that, where he felt like a complete man, and that this woman truly needed him. One time before he had thought that a woman had loved him, and though he did not doubt it even now, he knew that no woman had ever needed him like Christine seemed to.

And his fiery little bride had risked her life to save his...that thought still had him up at night. Such thoughts led him to the bed, and he kneeled beside Christine. Gently his large hands came out so that he might gently turn her onto her side. Easing her chemise down her back slightly he was greeted with the sight of the still healing scar on her back, evidence of her loyalty to him...laying her back down gently his hand tenderly caressed her cheek. She whimpered softly, and Erik cursed Edmund for the nightmares that Christine would surely have, when she didn't deserve them.

"I've tainted you, little one...and God, how sorry I am!"

The blame for what had happened to her would forever be on his shoulders, and he knew that no matter how much it hurt him, he was responsible for what had happened. The Dark Prince had more enemies than allies and becoming his wife meant that those enemies were now hers as well. She deserved so much better than him when it came to a husband. She needed a man who would protect her no matter what the sacrifice, and who was a complete man, not the half demon he was.

"You think such honorable thoughts for your wife, Erik, but deep down you know you would die from the thought of her with another man..." he growled this to himself, scolding his thoughts. There was no doubt in his mind that Christine deserved better, but God condemn him for being as selfish as he undoubtably was. By both God and man he had been bound to this woman, and she would always be his, no man would ever even think otherwise...because he was beginning to realize just how much he needed her in his life.

"Please...stop..."

Erik felt his fist clench at the sound of Christine's soft plea. Bringing his gaze once more to her face, he saw the anguish lying in her features as her body began to toss slightly on the large bed. Both of his large, strong hands grasped hers, trying to give her a semblance of comfort as her dreams took her to another place.

"Erik..."

He wanted to gather her up in his arms, tell her that everything would forever be alright. But he was too concerned that she would become frightened when she woke up, for it would surely take her a few moments to realize that she was no longer with Edmund. When she began to stir Erik had a feeling of uncertainty that he had never had before...it was strange, and he didn't know how to explain it. What if this experience had changed his wife...what if she no longer wanted to be in his presence?

The first thing she seemed to notice was the hold that he had on her hands. Trying to yank away, Erik did not let her go, wanting her to know that he was there. She cried out softly and her struggles growing more frantic.

"Let me go!"

Erik's grip only tightened and her struggles intensified. When Christine began to whimper he began to get worried, and let go of her hands, not wanting to cause her any fear. Her eyes began to flutter and the only sound in the room was Erik's audible swallow. Her eyes opened and landed almost immediately on his face. She shook her head.

"No...please not again..."

"Christine-"

She put her hands over her ears, squeezing her eyes tightly shut.

"No! No more lies! Just leave me alone!"

Erik had no idea what she was talking about, but he knew that she could not be in her right mind. Taking her arms he pulled her hands away from her ears and her eyes snapped open.

"Please...I shall keep my mouth shut...just don't touch me..."

"Is that how you speak to your husband?"

"Nay...my husband does not sit before me now! Only more lies!"

Reaching for her, he softly spoke her name, but she reeled back as if burned. Erik would not have been more hurt if she had slapped him across the face. Her rejection struck a deep cord within him and he felt his jaw clench. Knowing he shouldn't, Erik leaned forward and roughly took her chin and forced her to look at him. She whimpered and he had to push down any feelings. He would know what was going on and he would know now.

"Tell me of these lies you speak of and I will gladly leave you alone, Christine Desslar," he said very softly, his voice coaxing, but with an underlying tone of anger. Did she have any idea how long he had waited to finally have her back with him? Only to have her scorn his touch? He needed to know what she spoke of, or he would let his anger get the best of him.

"Tell me," he insisted, when she said nothing.

"You are not my husband! I was tricked into believing so once, I shall not make that mistake twice!"

What the devil did you do to my wife, Devereux!? A rage was beginning to boil inside Erik, for he did not like not knowing what was going on with his own wife, for how could he help her overcome whatever it was that she had faced if he didn't know what it was?

"Christine...it is Erik...how can I make you believe that?"

His voice had turned gentle but Christine still looked at him warily. Where was the fiesty woman he had married? Where was the warmth he was used to seeing in her eyes? She seemed so hurt and sad...neither being anything he ever wanted her to feel. She looked as if she desperately wanted to believe that he was who he claimed to be, but was far too wary to be caught in any sort of trick. Her eyes looked around for a moment before looking down at her lap.

"Tell me something only my Erik would know," she whispered pleadingly, as if she desperately wanting him to say what she needed to hear. For a moment he remained silent, thinking of an appropriate answer to tell her that would make her believe in what he said.

"That night when you had the nightmare about your father...and you came running down the stairs, tripping and falling on the last step. I took you to the fire and you cradled yourself in my lap. You told me that you had seen the tears your father shed in your dreams, and you asked me to help you forget what you saw...I kissed you..."

Tears had begun to form in her eyes, but Erik wasn't finished. He wanted her to be positive that it was truly him that sat before her.

"Or that day when you came outside and watched me practice my swordsmenship, the way your cheeks flushed with desire...I followed you and soon had you pressed against the wall, my hands all over you..."

"Erik..."

Still, he wasn't finished.

"Then there was the night that you brought me up to the blockade, and you told me that your father used to take you outside at night and the two of you would sit there and look at the stars...later you asked me if I regretted marrying you, does any of this-"

"Oh, Erik!"

His words were cut short when Christine suddenly hurtled herself into his arms, a look of absolute and utter joy on her face. Her face pressed against his neck and he could feel the warm tears that soaked into his skin. Neither of them spoke, words seeming meaningless. Christine's sobs rocked her fragile frame, her slim hands clutching desperately onto his back, the material of his tunic squeezed between her tiny fingers, afraid to let him go. Erik rested his face in her curls, inhaling deeply.

"You are safe, little one," he murmured, finally finding his voice through the emotion that clogged his throat. Her face shifted against his flesh, but her grip never lessened. Erik wanted to do everything in his power to comfort her. "You are home, nothing will happen to here, my sweet, I promise you that."

Her hands slid away from his back and he could feel her cool fingetips against the flesh of his neck as her fingers ran across his skin. Even with her face against him her hands ran unerringly across both of his cheeks. He tensed only slightly when she touched his mask, but he trusted her enough not to remove it, something that showed the true measure of his feelings for her.

Shuddering, her sobs continued, words escaping her. Erik's soothing words never diminished.

"Never again shall you worry for your safety, Christine. Nothing like this will ever happen again..."

He doubted his words only slightly. For had Edmund not managed to steal her away from him even with him protecting her? He was supposed to be the greatest, most feared knight in history, and yet he had been unable to protect his own wife.

"I knew you would come for me..." she whispered against his neck. Erik's eyes shut tightly in pain. Her faith that he would come for her was flattering, but false, he had been going after her, but he had a dreadful feeling that it was too late. And he did not want to lie to her.

"I was coming for you, Christine...but Edmund gave you back to me," he murmured. Christine pulled away from him, shaking her head.

"No...don't say his name to me," she pleaded softly. Erik took a deep breath and pulled her close to him once more. Edmund had hurt her, exactly how he didn't know, but he would not ask such a question of Christine, especially because he knew that she would have already told him if she wished it. But he would find out what happened, and soon Edmund's blood would adorn his sword. The man should have thought twice before he touched Christine, and his death would be agonizingly slow, making every moment seem like an eternity, and every second of it he would plead for mercy. Even then it would not be enough...

Author's note: Gemini will be updated on Monday for sure!