Summary: Christine tells Sir Erik how she came to live with the de Coleville's...
Tapestry of Deceit
Christine's Tale
Dinner was pleasant, far more pleasant that Sir Erik thought possible.
The servants kept bustling into the dining hall, carrying several grand dishes, such as roast leg of lamb and suckling pig, as well as several different kinds of vegetables. The children greedily ate their supper, and Sir Erik realized it was the first time that not one of them complained about the meal.
At first, the conversation was awkward; the children clearly wanted to talk about the strangers who had "invaded" their home, but Sir Erik made it quite clear that the conversation on that particular topic, would not go on. A strange silence fell over the group as their first course was served, but Christine broke it by asking the children what they did during the day. Erik listened as Jacob described his sword lessons with one of Erik's men-at-arms, and Charles began begging if he could have sword lessons, clearly wanting to be just like his older brother. Helena complained about how Anne insisted that she learn how to sew a tapestry, wishing that she too, could also have sword lessons. The twins had been playing with their dolls all morning long, and were visited by Lady Ophelia, Bernard's wife, who offered to give the girls dancing lessons, if they so wished. Helena's eyes went wide at this, and she became extremely upset that Lady Ophelia hadn't asked her, since she was clearly old enough and Sarah and Sabrina, in her own words, were just babies. The twins let out a mighty protest at this, but Christine was able to calm them all down, saying how dearly she would love to learn how to dance as well. Helena gave an exuberant squeal at this, and wanted to leave the table and seek out Lady Ophelia at once to give her the news, but Sir Erik was able to keep her seated, telling his daughter in a firm, yet gentle voice, that she could deliver her message in the morning.
Dinner continued, and the children couldn't stop chattering, each grinning and laughing, each looking back and forth between both Sir Erik, and Christine, with adoration and love. Erik watched Christine throughout the meal, feeling his heart warm every time her laughter filled the room, every time she smiled at one of the children, every time she glanced in his direction, and then immediately turned her head, a lovely blush coloring her cheek. No one would have suspected that only an hour ago, she had faced the demons of her past. No one would have suspected that this smiling, laughing woman, had cried in his arms after revealing the cruelty that had been inflicted upon her in her past. Erik vowed to himself, then and there, he would never let any harm come to her, and before his life was finished, he would see to it that Philippe de Coleville suffered for the wrongdoings he had committed against Christine.
Dinner finally came to a end after their desserts were brought forth by Anne—a delicious sweet pudding, which all the children happily gobbled up, thanking Anne and the cooks between spoonfuls. Anne smiled tenderly at the scene, and began to dab her eyes, clearly moved by the change. If someone had asked her a month ago whether it was possible for Sir Erik and his children to make peace, whether it was possible for the hell demons to learn manners, and whether it was possible for all of them to sit and eat together like a family—she would laughed. Yet now, as she gazed at the table scene before her, and as she listened to the conversation, she felt her heart lift with loving hope, and tears fill her eyes at the beautiful scene. Of course Anne knew who was truly responsible, and she gazed with loving adoration at Christine. God surely had guided Sir Erik that day when he went in search of a bride.
After dessert, the children begged Christine to tell one of her stories. Christine smiled and scooped up Sabrina, while Sir Erik scooped up Sarah, and the others followed, as Christine led them back to the great hall. There, she sat down in a large chair near the fire, while the others sat around her on the floor, each looking up at her with excitement, wondering what sort of tale she would tell.
"Do you know a story about monsters?" Charles asked, grinning.
The twins instantly groaned. "We want to hear one about unicorns!"
Helena shook her head. "Sing them the one you sang to me, about the troll prince who falls in love with the maiden!"
Jacob didn't have any requests; he was quite content to listen to whatever Christine sang.
"Hush, no need to fight," Christine murmured, quickly calming them all down. "I think I will sing you an old story, a story that my father told me many, many years ago…"
Helena grinned at this. "Your father would be our grandfather! Where is he? Will he come to visit?"
Erik had never asked Christine about her parents, but he assumed, since she never spoke of them, that they were dead. He stiffened at Helena's question, and was fully prepared to step forward and interrupt, but Christine simply smiled at the girl and reached out to run her fingers through the child's fiery hair. "Nay, I'm afraid not, Helena. My father, and my mother, are in heaven, where they sing their stories to the angels."
Helena bit her lip, knowing what Christine meant by this; after all, her mother was also in heaven. However, Christine did not look cross or upset by what she had asked, and so the girl settled down against a plush pillow, and gazed up at Christine as she began to sing.
Erik sucked in a deep breath as his wife's beautiful, sweet voice, filled the room. He remembered the first time he had heard her sing, that night when he had returned from his search (ironically for her), and he had found her in the children's bedchambers, sleepily singing the last few words of her song…before falling to sleep with the children. He had never heard a voice quite like hers before—an angel's voice; surely that was what it was. He found himself sinking into a chair opposite of hers, and his eyes closed, very briefly, as the sweet chords of her voice washed over him…
Christine's song told the story of a girl, who had fallen in love with a knight of a far away kingdom. The knight had an enchanted castle, which stood on a cliff, overlooking the sea. Beautiful fields of endless roses surrounded the castle, but despite the beauty of the place, the castle was believed to be haunted by a dark, fearsome ghost. The girl entered the castle, determined to find the knight whom she loved, and every so often, a monster would attempt to steal her away, and keep her parted by her beloved. But she finally found him, chained in his own chamber.
"What about the Ghost!?" Charles squeaked, interrupting the song just briefly. The other children groaned at him for the interruption, but immediately turned their attention back to Christine as she continued.
The lady ran towards her beloved, unsure how to release him from the chains, but she was startled to realize, that the dark, fearsome ghost…was actually the knight, himself!
Erik's eyes opened at this moment; the song sounded oddly familiar…
The lady covered her mouth to keep herself from screaming, and the Ghost turned away from her, telling her to leave him, to return to her far away home. But she refused, and professed her love for him, and began to weep for the cruelties that he had suffered. Her tears, moved by love, were magical…and when they touched the Ghost, they made him flesh. The Ghost-Knight told her that it was the monsters who had chained him, and that they had hidden the key. The castle contained a secret treasure, and the monsters were determined to steal it. The lady leaned forward, and kissed her beloved then, and through the power of their kiss, the key was revealed; it had been hidden in the Ghost's heart.
"And what about the treasure?" Jacob asked, leaning in eagerly, just like his siblings. "Were the monsters stopped? Did the lady and her knight marry?" Even Erik was leaning in, wishing to know what had happened.
Christine sighed and gave a sad smile. "That's all I know," she murmured, knowing the children were disappointed. "Every night, my father would tell me a new part of the story, but…it was never finished, I'm afraid."
The younger children looked confused by this, but Jacob and Helena understood perfectly, and shot their younger siblings a look of warning if they were even thinking of asking what Christine meant.
"I think they found the treasure," Charles announced, a big grin on his face. "The knight and his lady, I mean."
"And I think they got married," Helena grinned. "And you know what? The castle sounds like Winterbourne!"
Christine blushed, and glanced up at Sir Erik, who was watching her closely. "Yes, I suppose it does; a dark castle on the cliffs, overlooking the sea…"
"And we're growing our own rose garden!" Sarah grinned.
"Soon, we'll have fields of roses, just like the song!" Sabrina added.
"Will you sing us another?" Jacob asked, liking Christine's voice and stories very much.
Christine opened her mouth to respond, but Erik's own deep voice filled the room, instead. "Not tonight, I'm afraid," he announced, to which all the children gave a groan of disappointment. Christine didn't mind singing another, she was somewhat confused by her husband's response. However, one look into Sir Erik's eyes, and Christine knew exactly why he said what he said…
He wanted to continue their talk from earlier.
A shiver coursed through Christine. She knew it was for the best, after all, she didn't want them to keep secrets from each other and continue in their ignorance of one another…but the idea of having to recall such horrible memories…
"Mama, are you cold?" Sarah asked, looking up at her with large, concerned eyes. "You're shaking…"
"It is a little cold, yes," Christine lied, before putting on a smile and scooping the child up. "Come, let's get you into bed."
The children reluctantly followed their mother and father to their bedchambers, and both Erik and Christine went about the tasks of tucking them all in, and saying goodnight to each and everyone. Christine smiled, enjoying the task very much, loving how all the children allowed her to give them a kiss on the forehead, as well as hug. Even Jacob, who Christine feared would see such actions as childish, welcomed her embrace as she bade him goodnight.
Sir Erik was standing in the hallway when Christine emerged from the boy's chamber, waiting for her patiently. The joy she felt at saying goodnight disappeared, and the shivers she had experienced earlier returned. "Come," Sir Erik whispered, drawing her close to his side by wrapping one of his powerful arms around her shoulders.
Christine swallowed the nervous lump in her throat as Sir Erik led her towards her own chamber, summoning her courage, reminding herself that a memory could not harm you, that she was safe now, that she had nothing to fear…
But they found you! They came into your own home, unannounced! And why would they do such a thing? What are they up too?
"Christine…" Erik's voice interrupted her thoughts, and Christine took a deep breath, before turning to look up at his masked face. "I…I want to…" he didn't know why this was so hard for him to say. He stopped walking, and turned to look directly at her. "I wish to know more about you," he finally said, feeling somewhat foolish for his words. There was nothing foolish about wanting to learn more about a person, it was simply the fact that he had waited until now to even show any interest.
Nay, I have always wanted to know more about her, I was just too much of a coward to ask.
Christine looked away from his eyes and nodded her head. It was time that the two of them learned about one another's pasts, and if by revealing her own would help him to reveal his, then so be it. She loved him, and she still clung to the hope that perhaps, he could love her too. Being husband and wife went beyond physical connection; she wanted the emotional connection as well.
"Very well," Christine whispered, as they approached her chamber, and Sir Erik opened the door for her. "I'll start at the beginning, then…"
Christine held her father's hand very tightly as she gazed up at the castle before her. It was a lovely castle, from what she could see of it. The stones were a soft, sandy brown color, and there were vines growing along its sides. Nearby was a barn, where she could hear the sounds of cows, sheep, pigs, and chickens, reminding her in many ways of home. The thought should have been a comfort, but it made her heart all the more sad…
A tall, elderly man, dressed in servant's garb, approached both of them, his face so deeply set with wrinkles that Christine could not tell whether the man was frowning or not. He certainly looked stern. "Is this the girl?" the man grumbled, not even bothering to look at Christine, simply staring into her father's eyes.
"Yes," her father murmured, glancing down at his daughter with painful sadness, his heart ripping in two as he gave the simple reply. "This is my daughter, Christine. She's eight years old, but she is a hard worker and knows her place; she'll be a good servant—"
"I'm not the one you have to convince," the older man snapped, turning his back and marching back inside the castle. Christine glanced up at her father, wishing that they could return home at once, but then she knew that was impossible…they had no home, not anymore. "Well!?" the servant groaned, standing in the doorway, looking extremely irritated. "Are you coming in, or not?"
Christine's father held her hand tightly as he quickly followed the older man. They stopped once they were inside, standing in the midst of the beautiful great hall. Christine looked all around her, gasping at the stained glass windows, the exquisite furniture, and the beautiful tapestries that hung from the ceiling. She had never been inside such a beautiful place before, although her mother and father often told her stories about such castles. She wondered if this was how a princess felt…
"Jean?"
Christine glanced up at the woman's voice that came from overhead. Standing on the beautiful staircase that led down into the great hall, was a tall, lovely woman, with long, beautiful silver blonde hair, that flowed down her back like a silken waterfall. She was wearing a purple gown, with silver trim, and a long string of diamonds. Atop her head was a net of pearls, and as she came closer, Christine noticed how lovely and sharp her features were; high cheekbones, an angular nose, full-pink lips, and two lovely, silver-blue eyes. She was obviously a queen…
"Is this the new girl?" the queen asked, as she descended the stairs as if she were floating on air. Christine swallowed the nervous lump in her throat, and took a step forward, smiling up at the regal woman, just as her father had told her to do before they approached the castle.
"Aye, milady," the servant, Jean, obediently answered.
The queen looked down at Christine, her lovely eyes devoid of emotion. Christine's nervousness began to increase, and the smile she was wearing began to disappear. The queen then proceeded to circle her, muttering things to her servant about her figure, her hair, her skin, even her clothes. Christine bit her lip, knowing that it was foolish to cry, that she had promised her father that no matter what, she would not cry.
"Mama, what is that?"
Christine looked up once more to the top of the staircase, and there, she saw a young girl, who still looked as if she were young enough to be in the nursery. The girl was a miniature of the queen; long, flowing silver-blonde ringlets, lovely features, and despite her young age, she held herself with the same regalness. The only difference, Christine noticed, was that she had dark eyes, extremely dark, almost black looking.
"This," the queen murmured, "is your new servant girl."
A shiver went through Christine at the woman's words. She didn't even know the other girl, and yet she was already dreading the thought of being her servant.
"You…you will take her?"
Christine whirled around to see her father standing behind her, his face a mixture of both relief and fear. She knew why he had brought her here; he told her over and over again that it was for a better life, a life that he could not provide for her, but as Christine stood in the presence of the queen and princess, she knew that this was not the better life her father imagined.
Her parents worked for a greedy nobleman, a landowner who made his money by snatching up the land of other nobles, but who did not "waste" what money he made, but acquiring more servants. Her father and mother were peasant farmers, who knew how to work the land, and as long as Christine could remember, they worked the land of their greedy master both night and day, until their fingers bled.
It was a horrible life, if one could call it that. Christine worked alongside her parents, although she could not do as much as they since she was a child. She often did the chores of their tiny house, trying her best to make sure that they would have a comfortable, clean home to come home to, whenever that would be. For many years, it was just the three of them, until six months ago, her mother announced she was with child.
Christine was very excited about having a baby brother or sister, and worked even harder so that her mother could rest. But their master did not care for their comfort, or for the fact that her mother was pregnant, and threatened that if they did not do the work he commanded, he would turn them all out.
Sadly, a drought hit that summer, and the land suffered greatly. Christine's family nearly starved, and their master refused to show any mercy, even though it was completely out of their hands. Christine's mother also became sick, and one night she began to moan in pain. The baby was coming, but it was too early. Christine ran to fetch a midwife, but it was too late by the time she had returned; both the baby…and her mother, had died.
A month passed, and the nobleman's greed did not cease. Since Christine's mother had died, he ordered her father to do the work of two people. But her father was only one man, and because he could not complete the work that their master ordered, he seized their cottage, and both Christine and her father were forced to live in a dilapidated shack, near their master's home.
This was not the life he wanted for his child, so her father announced, only a few days ago, that he would be taking her to work for the nephew of his master, a baron by the name of Pierre de Coleville. Baron de Coleville had a large castle, and two children, including a daughter who was only a few years younger than Christine. He thought that surely Christine could help the mother with managing the young girl, and that her life in the castle would be ten times better than her life in a shack. He told her over and over again that he loved her so much, that the thought of parting with her broke his heart…but he loved her too much to see her suffer the same way he and her mother suffered.
"Yes…" the queen muttered, eyeing Christine one more time. "She will do."
The little girl stomped her foot and put on a large pout. "But Mama!" she wailed. "I don't want her! She's ugly!"
Christine looked at the child in absolute shock. She couldn't have been more than four or five years old! And yet, somehow in her young age, she had learned the art of rudeness, it seemed.
The queen, however, said nothing, not once reprimanding her daughter for the rude comment. "She will be your servant, Carlotta," the woman stated, her voice quite firm. "She will help you dress in the morning, see to your bath, and wait on you hand and foot, whenever you call upon her."
Christine trembled at this news, and noticed, with horror, how the little girl gave an evil grin at this revelation.
"Come, Carlotta, time for your dancing lessons," the queen announced, before turning and leaving, without another word or glance towards either Christine, or her father. The demon princess named Carlotta, turned and grinned wickedly at Christine, before turning and quickly following her mother. It seemed that the castle's beauty was simply a mask to hide its terrible reality.
"Papa?" Christine turned to her father then, biting her lip. "Please, I don't want to stay here, please, let me go home with you, please?"
Her father was trying his hardest to not show any tears, but it was impossible, and he looked down at his daughter, his own blue eyes filled with such deep pain. "It's…it's for the best, Christine."
Christine shook her head; she would rather face the horrors of the fields, than the horrors of the demon princess. "Papa, don't leave me here, please? Please, let me go home, please—"
"To the kitchens with you!" barked Jean, the old frowning servant, whose wrinkles seemed to make his eyes sink into his head. "And you!" he shouted, glaring at her father. "Be gone with you! We've done what you wanted, now go!"
Her father didn't move, he kept glancing back and forth between his daughter and the old servant, but the man snapped his fingers, and several strong looking men entered the castle, from the nearby barn. "I said, be gone with you!" the old servant ordered once more, and with her vision blinded by tears, Christine watched as her father sadly turned and left the castle, his shoulders slumped in defeat.
"Papa!" Christine leapt to follow, but she was stopped when the old man grabbed a fistful of her hair, and gave it a harsh yank.
"I told you to go to the kitchens!" he shouted, before lifting his hand as if threatening to slap her. Christine bit her lip to control her sobs, and mutely nodded her head, before turning in the direction his bony finger was pointing.
It seemed that her father, bless him, had unknowingly traded his daughter from one hell, to another.
Erik's hand was gripping the tiny mantle of her fireplace. It had been a long time since he had felt the desire to kill someone. Right now, he wished more than anything, that he had torched de Coleville's castle on the day he came to claim his bride. It was hard for him to imagine, as he gazed at the small woman who sat on the window seat of her chamber, her arms wrapped around her legs, hugging them to her chest, as she sadly gazed out at the darkening horizon, that anyone would wish to cause harm to someone like her.
His chest tightened as he imagined the humiliations Carlotta and her mother put her through. She had done them no harm, and as Christine had described, he could easily close his eyes, and envision her as an eight-year-old child, smiling before her new mistress, wishing to make a good impression…and then being emotionally spat upon. Why? Because they could.
As a boy, Erik was looked down upon by many of his peers, because he was Lord Edwin's illegitimate son, who had been so easily accepted by the King. But those same peers that attempted to sneer at him often found themselves gathering their bloody teeth off the ground after Erik threw his fist into their jaw. He had always been strong, even when he was a boy, and that strength helped him greatly with defending himself, and intimidating others. They may not have wanted to accept him, but they feared him too much not too.
But he had been able to defend himself; not only was he strong, he was the son of the King's favorite knight. Few would dare to cross him. But Christine…she was a servant girl, one who had no family, one who was treated like garbage from the day she arrived, and who, much to Erik's anger, was called "ugly" from the moment she first stepped into de Coleville's home. She could not defend herself, not the way she may have wanted to; one word against her employers, one outburst, one slap…and she would find herself on the street.
Lady Maria knew exactly what she was doing when it came to Christine, and she obviously passed the horrible lessons onto her daughter. A servant was meant to serve you…and when they weren't serving you, they were meant for your torment. That was the lesson Lady Maria taught, and that was exactly what she and her children did. Power; they had it, and Christine didn't. And simply based on this story Christine had told him, it was obvious they spent much of their time exuding it.
"Did your father ever come to see you?" he asked, after a long pause.
Christine swallowed the emotional lump in her throat, and lifted her hands to wipe her cheeks. "When he could…which, sadly, was not often," she answered. "It wasn't his fault; I never blamed him for bringing me there, I know that he had done so because he loved me, and believed life would be better for me there."
Erik had never dismissed any of his servants. He knew some of them feared him, but all of them were good and loyal, and it was because he treated them with respect and dignity. He had once heard a servant describe Winterbourne as "a servant's paradise"; he could not imagine the atrocities that Christine and other servants like her had experienced in their lives.
A sigh escaped Erik's lips as he prepared himself for the next story, a story he needed to know. "And Philippe? What of him?" He knew there was more to the story about the boy than what Christine had already revealed.
"Philippe…" Christine whispered, pulling her knees even closer to her body.
"Christine…" Carlotta purred, a wicked grin spreading across her pretty features as she snuck up on the servant girl who was leaning over a boiling pot of water, attempting to do Lady Maria's laundry.
Christine summoned her patience and lifted her head. "Yes?"
Carlotta continued grinning. "We have a guest coming for dinner…"
Carlotta was obviously up to something, and Christine wasn't in the mood for games; she had far too many chores to do. "I shall inform Antoinette at once, if she does not already know," Christine curtsied, before turning back to finish her work.
Carlotta started laughing. "No, you stupid little pig! Our guest is very special…and he is traveling home from school…even as we speak…"
Christine froze as the weight of Carlotta's words sunk in. There was only one person to whom she knew was away at school…
"Philippe has written to me," Carlotta giggled, before twirling around the room, her flaxen curls bouncing freely about her shoulders. "He often ends his letters with questions about you…" she practically cackled. "He misses you dearly, Christine…"
"Young mistress!"Carlotta practically shrieked at the cold bark that filled the small laundry room. Both girls looked up at the towering stern woman before them, her black eyes staring down her long, chiseled nose, with cold contempt, at the younger girl. "You best leave Christine to finish her work," Antoinette muttered through clipped lips. "And I believe your father would like to speak with you…"
Carlotta said nothing; she simply scrambled her way past the tall woman without a backward glance. Antoinette, the head cook for the Baron and his family, was the only servant that Carlotta…or any of the de Coleville family for that matter, could intimidate. In fact, no one dared cross Antoinette; some believed she was a witch, and could cast a hex upon a person by simply looking at them with her cold, black eyes.
However, she had shown kindness to Christine on the first day she had arrived. Meg, Antoinette's daughter, had come to Christine's defense, when several other servants began "having some fun" with the poor girl, giving her confusing directions to the castle's different chambers, manipulating her to do their share of the work, and so on. Meg despised bullies, and more or less came to Christine's rescue. When the bullies attempted to tell Meg off, a handsome servant boy named Robert, stepped in to defend both of them. And those that still continued to argue, quickly stopped, when Antoinette caught their eye.
Indeed, Christine was very glad to have the woman as her friend, rather than her enemy.
"I understand that Philippe is returning home from school," Antoinette murmured, as she entered the laundry room to inspect some of the tablecloths for the dining hall. "Lady Maria has ordered a grand feast in celebration of his return."
Christine said nothing; she simply brushed a sweaty strand of brown hair away from her face.
"I think it would be wise for you to have Meg accompany you this evening, as you help Carlotta prepare for bed. And if there are any other chores that you are ordered to perform, it would especially be wise to have young Robert help you."
Christine knew exactly what Antoinette was doing. She was only fourteen, but sadly, at her young age, she had suffered greatly from Philippe de Coleville.
A week after her arrival at Baron de Coleville's, Christine met Carlotta's older brother, Philippe, who had returned home for a short break from his schooling. He was the only son of Baron de Coleville, and he was clearly his mother's pride and joy. Philippe was a handsome boy, with the same silver-blonde hair as his mother and sister, and like his sister, he also had the same dark eyes. Souless eyes, Christine soon learned, for both Carlotta, and Philippe had no soul.
In the beginning, Philippe joined his sister in pulling pranks on Christine; from dumping buckets of pig slop on her head, to putting rats and spiders in her bed, and all sorts of nasty tricks. Quite often, they would get Christine into trouble with their mother, tattling on her, telling them that she had attempted to punch them, or slap them, or kick them…which wasn't too far from the truth. Christine had attempted to do those very things after they pushed her over the edge, but it always resulted in her getting taken out back, and Jean, the old wrinkled servant, beating her back with a sharp switch. However, if Christine had to be beaten, she prayed that it was by Jean; sometimes Lady Maria allowed Carlotta or Philippe to use the switch…and they were merciless.
The years passed, and Carlotta became vainer and brattier, and Philippe's cruelty began to change, slightly.
Christine remembered a time she had gone swimming with Meg and Robert, but Philippe spied upon them, and called Christine filthy names. There was also the time she caught Philippe spying upon her through a hole in the wall of her tiny servant's chamber while she was dressing, and he kept cornering her, whispering in her ear all the things he saw, making her feel utterly disgusted. But the worst time had been last summer, when Christine's body began to develop.
Christine had just begun her first menstrual cycle, and Antoinette, knowing how uncomfortable a woman's cycle could be, gave her a special tea to help sooth her body. The tea also made Christine feel quite sleepy, so she went to lie down and rest for a while. She was rudely awakened by a loud, evil laugh, and when she opened her eyes, gasped as she saw Philippe, standing over her, dangling something in his hands. She screamed as he dropped the object on top of her head, and it was then that she realized it was the rag she had been wearing under her dress. She quickly pushed the bloody rag off of her, but Philippe was faster, and with a grip that was five times stronger than her own, he covered her body with his, and held her down. "Open up, Christine…" he snickered, his hand cruelly grabbing her jaw. Christine shook her head wildly, tears streaming down her face, refusing to open her mouth, struggling with all her might to get him off her.
He had touched her beneath her clothes; he had purposefully taken the rag off of her while she was sleeping! Oh God above, what else had he done while he was under her skirt? It sickened her, it disgusted her, and she wanted to vomit all over him.
"Fine, you won't open up, then I'll MAKE you!" he shouted, and without warning, his mouth came crashing down upon hers, and Christine screamed with pain, as his teeth cruelly gripped her bottom lip, and bit it hard, until she could taste her own blood in her mouth. Philippe tore his mouth away and laughed, before taking the rag that she had attempted to push away, and slapping it against her face.
"Now that may help you to look pretty," he laughed once more, before climbing off her and dashing out of the room. From that night on, Christine always slept with a chair jammed against the door.
Philippe never thought she was pretty, he always made that clear, but he enjoyed torturing her, making her feel disgusted. He enjoyed saying vulgar things, describing repulsive actions, and how he couldn't wait until she was older, so he could play them out on her. He was a few years older than her, and she knew that it would only be a matter of time, before his schooling was completed…and then, she shivered, he would be home for good.
"Thankfully…he never stayed at home very much," Christine whispered. "He finished his schooling within the following year, at the age of sixteen. But instead of pursing a commission for the King…or preparing himself to become the next baron…he spent much of his time away, drinking, gambling, and visiting different whorehouses," she murmured. "I know, because Baron de Coleville often complained about his son's gambling debts, but Lady Maria said that Philippe had 'wild oats he needed to sew', and in a few years, he would be ready to take a wife, and settle down."
A sudden cracking sound interrupted Christine's story, and her head sprang up and looked in the direction of her husband, who was gripping the fireplace mantle with both hands, his entire body sagging, but every muscle in his back and shoulders looked extremely tense. "My lord?" Christine bit her lip, worried that perhaps he was feeling ill…and unsure as to what had caused that strange sound. "Erik?"
The Black Knight straightened, and slowly, turned to face Christine. A gasp escaped her lips as she saw what looked like tears, shimmering in the golden depths of his eyes. But it was the sight of his hands that startled her above anything else…
His fingers were cut and bleeding. And it was then that she noticed chunks of stone were missing from the mantle of her fireplace.
"Erik!" She rose from her seat and scrambled across the room to his side, concern etched across her face, her hands tenderly reaching out to take his bleeding fingers in her own, but Erik moved away from her with lightning speed, his eyes wild with a vast array of emotions.
"Nay! Do not pity me, Christine!" he growled, warning her to keep away. "After everything you have told me…how can you even think of anyone right now, but yourself?"
Christine was confused by his words. He sounded so angry, and right now, he sounded as if he were angry with her. "Erik, please…we need to wash the blood away, we need to bandage—"
"You think this is bad?" he laughed then, his laughter wild and filled with disgust and anger. "Believe me, my dear, I have been through far worse pain and torture," he practically spat, his voice filled with such venom. "But I am a knight, trained by my father, and then by the King's own guards. I have been trained to withstand torture, to not scream while one's flesh is being cut into! This sort of pain is nothing…" he growled, gazing down upon his cut, bloody hands, his teeth bare and snarling. "Knights are meant to experience pain…not servant girls."
Christine held her breath as Sir Erik's eyes bore deeply into her own.
"Knights are meant to withstand every kind of torture imaginable…not good, innocent, beautiful creatures like you, Christine." His words were clipped, and the tears that Christine swore she had seen earlier, were beginning to shimmer once more. "You are too pure, too…too good, to have suffered such…such atrocities. And even now, NOW, after everything you've revealed to me, after all the harm they have done to you, that HE has done to you…you stand there, and you're worried about MY HANDS!?"
Christine said nothing; with soft, slow steps, she approached him and gently took one of his large hands in hers, cradling it tenderly, as she took a white handkerchief, and gently dabbed at the blood pooling in his palm.
"God almighty," Erik swore. Christine stilled her ministrations, fearing she had hurt him, but when she looked up at him, she could tell by the look in his eyes, that wasn't the reason for his words. "How, Christine? How…how can you have such…such goodness in you, after everything?"
"I am not a saint, Erik, I—"
"You are an angel," he interrupted, refusing to hear her protest otherwise. "You put others before yourself, whether it's your friends, the children…even my own hands," he murmured with awe as she began to dab at the other. "Even now, despite everything, you do not curse them?"
Christine gently wiped away at the blood, biting her lip as her eyes focused on the angry gash that splintered across his fingers. She could see a fragment of stone imbedded in the skin. "I have not forgiven them, if that is what you think," she softly answered. "I don't know if I ever can," she gritted her teeth as she pulled the stone out of his palm, amazed that he did not hiss his pain. Of course he wouldn't…he was a knight of the realm, as he had told her. He had been built to withstand pain.
"I want nothing more than to see Philippe de Coleville's head on a spike," Erik growled, watching with amazement as she tenderly cared for him, pulling him over to a small table that contained the very basin he had used the night before to wash away her virgin's blood. Christine proceeded to pour the water over his hands, and gently dry them with a clean cloth.
"Philippe will meet his end when the time is right, and God will rightly judge him," she murmured, before taking another clean cloth, and ripping it into several pieces, before tenderly bandaging his hands. "I resent my former employers, very much. I resent them for all the years of humiliation and discomfort they have caused me…yet despite everything that has happened in my life…I confess, I will always hold some gratefulness towards them, especially Carlotta."
Erik stared at her in utter shock. "Gratefulness?" his voice was barely above a whisper. "What on earth could you feel grateful for?"
Christine finished her bandage, and looked up at him, her blue eyes strong and sure, as they matched his with a fierce gaze of their own. "For bringing you to me."
Erik's eyes widened and he found himself gazing at her as if she were the one who towered above everything in the room. His breath caught as he felt her soft, small fingers, reach up to tenderly caress his unmasked cheek.
"If Carlotta had not concocted that plan, and if I had not agreed to go along with it…I don't know if I would be standing here before you now," she whispered, her other hand rising then to touch his masked cheek, praying that the warmth of her hand would penetrate its barrier.
Erik let out a long, shaky breath, and his eyes locked fiercely with hers. "I would have found you," he swore, his bandaged hands moving to pull her to him. "I would not have left that place without you, I know this. I would have torn that castle in two, until I discovered you…"
You are my destiny, Christine. You are the other half of my heart.
Joy flooded Christine's heart then; it was the closest thing she had heard him say to a declaration of love. "Erik…" she whispered, lifting herself up on tiptoe, her eyes fluttering shut, as she parted her moistened lips and offered her mouth to his.
Sir Erik let out a growl, before crushing her against his frame and lifting her off the ground, covering her offered lips with his own, kissing her fiercely, passionately, hungrily; he needed her the same way a man needed air to breathe.
In a matter of seconds, they were on her bed, and neither one of them wasted time with removing their clothes. Erik began kissing down Christine's body, pausing to sample her breasts, while her fingers dug into his hair, hugging his head to her body. "Erik…" she gasped, as she felt his knee move to part her thighs, to which she eagerly complied by wrapping her legs around his waist.
Erik let out a loud groan of pleasure as he felt Christine's small, soft fingers, climb inside his breeches, and touch his aching flesh. "Christine…" he growled, knowing that he needed to be inside her, he needed to be making love to her, he had been thinking of nothing else all day long; it seemed that in Christine's arms, he forgot about his past, he forgot about his face…with her, he felt like a prince from one of her stories.
Both of them quickly pushed his breeches away, and in a matter of seconds, the two were joined once more, their flesh becoming one, their heartbeats beating as one. Christine threw her head back and cried out her pleasure, as she felt Erik thrust deeply inside her; the pain she had experienced the night before when they first came together was gone completely now; he was quite large, but her body seemed to have adjusted perfectly for him.
She is my match in every way, Erik thought to himself.
"Erik!" Christine gasped, her arms wrapping tightly around his body, pulling him closer, needing to feel him more, needing to know that this was no dream, that he had rescued her, that he was the champion she had always longed for. "Oh God, Erik!" Any other words were cut off, as Erik's mouth covered hers with a searing kiss that would certainly leave bruises on both of their lips.
She is mine to protect, mine to cherish, mine to love! She will never know the horrors she once felt! I will see to it that such worries never invade her thoughts ever again; I will see to it that she only knows pleasure, comfort, and joy. She is mine! MY WIFE!
Both Erik and Christine threw back their heads as ecstasy swept through them and claimed their bodies once more, leaving them trembling and moaning in the after shocks of pleasure.
And it was then, while Erik's brow came to rest against hers, while she leaned upward and brushed her lips against his own, he realized he could no longer deny the truth…at least not to himself.
I love her.
