"I am a forest, and a night of dark trees: but he who is not afraid of my darkness, will find banks full of roses under my cypresses."

― Friedrich Nietzsche

…

Threads of Moonlight

Claudia let her thoughts wander as she sewed; it was her paradise, her escape from the world that spoke harshly, that did not know her name. Every stitch had to be in its own specific place; every pull of the needle was a universal line that connected its entirety. The dress would be impeccable once she was finished; its many satin folds lay lifeless over the side of the armchair, yet she knew upon its completion, the lifelessness would fade away and bring astounding swirls of lavish joy.

Wasn't it intriguing that a simple piece of cloth could begin so lifelessly, yet by the work of human hands would transform into something that moved with the wind?

As if she somehow sensed the wind that might come from the folds of the satin dress, a different wind shook her abruptly from her thoughts. The back door; the door that led to the magnificent garden flew open, and the twins tumbled through, covered in speckles of dust and dirt. Their mother followed shortly after, her cheeks tinged with a pink hue, and eyes filled with a blindness that Claudia recognized immediately; love. And not simply love itself, but the pleasure of feeling love, the excitement of waiting, of longing…

The pleasure of love's power. It pooled in Christine's eyes, making her blind, yet causing her to see clearly; perhaps, for the first time. It was an energy so strong that it seemed to fill the room with her mere presence; and slowly, Claudia smiled to herself.

Surely, this woman had been brought back to life.

"Claudia!" the twins screeched, running into the parlor to greet her. They were a tornado of dust and clay, twirling around incessantly; a storm that could not be tamed.

"Girls!" she stood up from her armchair, setting aside the satin that she was carving into ever so carefully. "Although I am overjoyed to see you, I suggest you first make your way to the washroom and clean that dirt from your hair!"

The twins stopped dead in their tracks, giggling to themselves. "We went to the site and saw Erik!" Lillian said through a smile, standing on the edge of the parlor.

"And I got to ride on his shoulders! I could see the whole world from up there!" Marie announced, twirling in a circle.

Claudia smiled warmly. "Yes, you shall both tell me all about it – once you have cleaned up! Now run along, my little doves."

The twins obeyed, skittering off to the washroom, giggling and whispering to themselves about Erik; the knight who built castles with his bare hands.

Christine stood on the threshold of the parlor, a smile curving pleasantly upon her lips. Claudia scooted forward on the armchair, smiling back at Christine. A moment of silence between the two women spoke more than words ever could; for then, Claudia's suspicions were confirmed. She knew who had been responsible for Christine's emotional resurrection; a certain architect with raven hair…

"Claudia," Christine breathed softly. "I…I need something to wear. Something…astonishing."

Claudia folded her hands carefully. "And may I ask the occasion, my dear?"

Suddenly Christine lurched forward, flowing across the room to Claudia; a child running into a mother's open arms. She knelt beside the armchair, draping herself across the figure of a mother who sat waiting; whose golden braid shimmered in the evening light.

"Erik…he asked me to come with him to Le Déviant, at 8'o clock sharp. I…I want to look…well, I…" her voice trailed off, her eyes searching Claudia's for understanding.

Claudia reached out and stroked the side of her face gently. "Oh, my dear. I believe I have the perfect dress for you. Wait just a moment."

Christine's pale face broke into a smile as she watched Claudia rise from the armchair and cross the parlor. Fabrics of every color were draped across every piece of furniture; pale rose colored satins, deep emeralds, and silken shards of ocean. Claudia began to sort through different stacks; some that were finished pieces, others that had just begun to take form. Finally, her hands fell upon a folded up dress; it was pure white linen, but it shimmered in the lamplight with iridescence; as if it were made of stars picked out of the night sky. Claudia held the material up, and it unfolded itself into the most elegant dress Christine had ever laid eyes upon; made of moonbeams, of glistening fragments of sunlight, of dew drops that lay upon rose petals after a warm summer rain.

"Oh," Christine whispered, her breath taken from her chest immediately. "Claudia, I…I don't know what to say. It is…it is too beautiful. I could not wear it."

Claudia laid the moonlight dress on the back of the armchair lightly, then placed both hands upon her hips. "My dear, I won't hear another word! I sewed this specifically for the Duchess, but alas, I received a letter saying she no longer had need for the dress. So, I do insist that you give this dress life; that you dress as a Duchess for tonight!"

Christine's blood ran cold at the words that Claudia had spoken so lightheartedly. The Duchess. She gripped the edge of the armchair from where she knelt, her eyes falling to the floor in dismay.

Claudia frowned. "Christine? Oh darling, I did not mean to bring up royalty, or remind you of your title, I…I simply wanted to…oh dear. Have I said something out of place?"

Christine swallowed. "Claudia," she said carefully, her eyes still concentrated on the wide expanse of rug beneath her. "Did…did you know about Erik's past lover? That…that he once loved the Duchess?"

Claudia walked softly to where Christine still knelt. She sat on the floor next to her, taking her hands and squeezing them lightly. "Oh, my dear…I heard rumors but I did not believe them. And I certainly did not realize, even if the rumors were true…oh, Christine, please forgive me. You shan't dress as a Duchess; but you shall wear the dress that I threaded together with the light of the moon. For the Duchess never claimed it, and therefore, it now belongs to you."

"But…she had it custom made for her, did she not?" Christine whispered, squeezing Claudia's calloused hands. They were warm and strong, like the sun peeking in through the balcony window to signal the coming of morning.

"Yes, dear, she did…but she did not lay claim to it. And remember…these dresses are all made by the work of my hands. So, my love…perhaps it always had been meant for you to wear. Perhaps, I unknowingly made it for you. Come, sweet child, at least try it on. For the sake of the blood, sweat, and tears that I wove into its folds."

Christine nodded slowly. If the dress had been unclaimed, if it truly had no name…then it could be hers. Just for one night.

…

The dress had shone itself to be more than the moon, more than the stars that ached in deep echoes of night. Christine stood in front of the mirror in the upstairs washroom, smoothing the folds as they fell flawlessly over her luxurious curves. She had pinned up her hair loosely after washing it; tendrils of curls framed her face, while dark mahogany waves were pulled back neatly, sitting in a thickly braided bun at the nape of her neck. She had spread red tinge lightly across her cheekbones, and had added a bit of shadow to the lids of her eyes. She left her lips alone; for the bitten up scars were just beginning to heal.

The material draped across one shoulder, cinching slightly at the waist without need for any corset to hold it. It fell in long white folds, edged at the hems with mesh-like lace. It was pure silk, covered in shimmers that were secretly tiny jewels; diamonds that were dispersed more heavily at the bodice, flowing down in lighter spurts near the ends of the dress. Her back was completely bare, and the blinding white fabric wrapped over her midsection tightly; holding all of it together in a single diamond encrusted sash.

Her eyes fell to the edge of the blue tiled sink where her diamond ring still sat in its place, untouched. She reached out and picked it up, examining it with saddened eyes.

Out of all the parties and galas he had taken her to; out of all the intricate dresses she had worn, she had never once felt like royalty. She had felt forced, silenced, and smothered in tightly laced corsets that caused her breathing to be labored; that demanded stiff movements and hatred at the simplest touch from her husband's hand.

Hatred. Had she hated him? Had she truly begun to despise him from deep within her heart; had that been the poison that had rotted away at her soul?

The less he gave to her, the more that he had taken away from her with each passing year…her voice, her singing…had it brewed a poison that had almost destroyed her from the inside out?

She set the ring back in its proper place, by the sink. I wanted to die. But now…

I want to live.

Christine stared at her reflection in the mirror. God, show me the depths. Let me face them, for I no longer am afraid. You have given me strength; you have given me great wings, that I may not plunge to my death, but breathe deeply, as if it is the first breath I took upon this earth…

The abyss was silent. Not a single demon reared its ugly head; in fact, she felt as though the demons had somehow been chased away, that somehow…they had been driven out.

Was this what it felt like to be free?

"Christine!" Claudia's voice rang out from behind the door, as if she had perched herself at the top of the staircase. "My darling, your visitor has arrived."

Her heart began to pound in the confines of her chest. She breathed in deeply, taking one last look into her own eyes in the mirror; she saw a different woman. One who was changing before her very eyes. And before she turned away from the mirror, she gave that woman a tiny smile. And the woman, so beautifully carved like a statue, smiled back.

Christine descended down the staircase, holding up the pearl colored folds of her dress in one hand. She entered into the kitchen, and there he stood; immense and clad in black, with eyes that had already found hers.

He wore black riding breeches, with dark leather boots that were laced up tightly to the edges of his knees. His shirt, as always, was tucked perfectly into his trousers…and it was darker than his hair; shining with an inky and satiny hue…and again, he wore a silver chain around his neck, just barely visible through the top of his shirt.

The edges above his ears were neatly shaven; his hair was slicked back tightly and immaculately, jet black like the air that had swallowed them just the previous night. He smiled widely when she approached him, yet his arms stayed settled at his sides, with fresh white bandages wrapped around his knuckles.

"Gütiger Gott…Was für eine Schönheit," he breathed, running a bandaged hand through his hair. "Christine, you are…you are…" his chest was visibly rising and falling fast as he searched for the right words, his eyes raking up and down the curves of her body.

"It is as if a Goddess has appeared to me out of a dream," he whispered. "Yet," he drawled, taking a step toward her, "I find that I am not dreaming."

She walked across the wooden floor and embraced him. He held onto her tightly, and for a moment she forgot her surroundings, the evening light that filtered in through the kitchen window. She forgot Claudia who still stood in the kitchen, and she barely heard the twins as they barreled into the room, shouting, "Erik!" in unison.

He released her embrace, slowly tracing his hands down the length of her arms. "A vision in pale moonlight," he breathed into her ear before stepping away to greet her daughters.

The two girls hugged him tightly around the neck as he knelt down. "Did you bring Magnus? Are we coming with you? Oh please, can't we come with?"

Erik laughed, holding them both by the shoulders. "Yes, in fact, as your mother and I depart tonight, I decided to leave Magnus here with you…he told me he wanted to spend time with the princesses. And I cannot deny him any request."

Almost as if on cue, Magnus bounded in through the front door that had been left cracked slightly. He slid across the floor on all fours, his docked tail wiggling furiously. The twins crowded around the beast, hugging him where he sat blissfully, enjoying every moment of the touches and strokes from the loving hands of the girls.

"I am taking your mother out for an adventure," Erik announced to the twins. "And alas, my beauties, you cannot come with…but I promise, I shall protect her and bring her back to you later in the night. And then, perhaps…I will watch the dances you two have prepared."

"But I want to go too!" Lillian whined, standing up indignantly and stomping her foot.

"Now, Lillian," Claudia interjected firmly, "I think you both have had enough adventure for one day. Come, let your mother enjoy her night; and help me prepare supper."

"Okay," Lillian replied, sulking. Marie grabbed her sister's hand, eager to cheer her up. "Twin, we get to play with Magnus all night! And we get to practice our dancing for Erik! Come on," she smiled warmly, tugging insistently on Lillian's hand.

Christine bent down, kissing each of her daughters lightly on the forehead.

"I will be back soon, my sweet angels. Now go and help our dear Claudia. I will tell you all about my adventure when I return."

Reluctantly, the twins obeyed their mother, following Claudia to the countertop where she had began mincing up various vegetables. Before Christine turned to follow Erik out the front door, she caught sight of Claudia giving her a small wink. "Have fun, my beauty," Claudia called out. "You are absolute perfection in the dress. It was made for you, my love."

Christine smiled at her before turning back to follow Erik out the door. As soon as they had stepped through the threshold and the door thudded shut, Erik crushed his lips to hers, and she folded into him, returning his kiss forcefully. Their tongues began to flick and explore; and when he finally broke the kiss, his breathing was labored, and his eyes were ablaze with desire. It was as if the blue in his eyes had perhaps molded into fire; fire that she could feel against the heaving of her breasts.

"Come," he breathed, taking her gently by the hand. And he led her down the path of the cottage, looking back at her with every other step, flashing his teeth to her in the evening light.

His hand, although bandaged, was so warm in hers. It lit a fire in her blood that ran from the tips of her fingers to the edges of her spine, dribbling down to the wake of her heart.

And the two intermixed into the dusk of the day, a vision in white and a figure in black; two opposite spectrums of color. Yet the colors blended magnificently; two linear painted lines on a canvas that was purposely left blank; for God, the artist, was just beginning to form a new fabrication of life.

Something new, something so achingly fresh and arduous it was almost tangible, reachable. And as the warm air passed over her and through her, she found she could not look away from him; she found that before this very moment…before he had stepped into the house in his black leather boots, she had never felt true desire. Desire that was growing like a vine inside of her, up the bowels of her stomach and begging her mouth to let the blooms out into the atmosphere.

She had always watched desire from afar at the Opera House. There were always men chasing ballerinas, with glasses of golden champagne and promises of love. But she had always stood in the corner, only hearing of their tales second handedly. Until Raoul had come along, she had never known love from a man…but it had never been arduous, it had never been longing that tugged at her heart dangerously. It had felt simple, yet magical…but when the spell wore through, she found herself sitting in an empty room all over again.

And that empty room was where she had lived for the past seven years. And she would not go back to its dust filled, stifling depths again.

She tasted freedom when she tasted his lips. She felt strength running through her from the tips of his fingers, blood rushing to parts of her body that she had never known to be possible.

And as they continued along to the side of the house to where he had tied his horse, she tugged on his hand. Instantly, he stopped, turning to look at her in the last light of the sun.

"What did you say when you first saw me, in the house?" she asked curiously, pulling on his hand lightly. "I did not recognize the phrase. It was German…I…I just want to know what it is you had said."

Erik smiled lightly, averting his eyes from hers. "I spoke out of surprise, Christine. That is…not something I normally do."

"Well? What is this surprising phrase that seemed to just…flow out of your mouth?" she touched his chin with a finger, and he parted his lips softly.

"I had said, 'Dear God above…what a beauty'," he murmured, lifting a hand to the side of her face. "It just came out…I…I spoke without thinking."

"I much like when you speak without thinking," she whispered, stroking his lips with her forefinger.

He bent his head in toward hers, lifting her chin with two calloused fingers. This time, he moved into her ever so slowly, and kissed her softly upon her lips.

"You like my nonsense, don't you?" he whispered, breaking the kiss tenderly.

"Never have I loved anything more," she replied, pulling him into her once more.

And seamlessly, the darkness and the light collided; his blackened leather against her pale satin folds; it was as if the moon were leaning in slightly, waiting by the horizon line patiently, just to kiss the lips of the sun who had begun to rise.

…

Author's Note: I apologize to my lovely readers for the late update. Leave any comments, emotions, or feedback. All are much appreciated :)