Thank you to Phantomgirl24, peanutpup, JustACuppaEarlGrey, phanrose, lindaweng, Swishy Cape, SloaneDestler, smrb, Badpixie06, Mominator124, and MrsDianaBlack for the lovely reviews!

CW: Sexual content

Note: I'd been calling them sheepskin; they're actually called lambskin. My bad!

Enjoy!


Christine

Chapter 64

The Celebration

I was awoken with a kiss on the forehead.

I moved closer to Erik, nuzzling into his neck.

"I love you," he whispered.

"Iluyutew," I murmured.

He chuckled, and kissed the top of my head. "You're quite eloquent when you're tired."

"Shh. Sleep-time."

His lips met the top of my head one more time before he whispered, "Merry Christmas."

My eyes flew open and I drew back. He laughed fully.

"It's Christmas?" I whispered.

"Mhmm."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner that Christmas was nearing-"

"I wanted to surprise you. I could see how little you were paying attention to the date, and-"

"I can't believe I didn't realize Christmas was coming," I said, although half of me knew how silly it was to focus on that, given everything that had happened recently. "I wish you'd told me. I would have planned a gift for you."

In the dark, I could see that he smirked. "Not to be rude, my darling, but what exactly would you have given me? Put a ribbon on Ayesha and surprised me with her? And unless you've learned to scale the walls of the palace, I doubt you've been to the markets lately."

"I could have...I don't know...drawn you something?"

He smiled at me and pulled me into him again. I melted. "All I want," he said, "is you with me."

I sighed. "That's all I want too."

He held me for a while, and then said, "I do, actually, have a gift for you today."

"Is it Christmas lovemaking?"

"I have two gifts for you today."

I smiled. It was in these moments, when Erik was himself, that I forgot about what happened with the Echo those few days ago. I forgot that I had people who'd gladly kill me, that he did too. I forgot his talk of secrets, and how I'd be hurt or hateful at the revelation of whatever truth it hid. For so much of the day, I had a constant sense of doom lurking in the recesses of my mind. I could see that same feeling in him. But holding on to each other like this, talking softly, we could pretend that the rest of the world had been washed away and it was only us left.

"Can I have one of those gifts now?" I asked him, bringing my hand to his bare back. He was naked. I was as well. That was how we slept since we'd first shared our bodies. Since that night, since he'd seen my love and patience, his fear had dissolved - replaced by trust.

"One of those gifts is with Ibrahim," he responded, "and I'm not keen on him visiting right this moment." He ran a finger over my hip. "He'll be by later to drop it off here."

"What about the other gift?"

"That," he said, "you can have whenever you wish."

He rolled on top of me and kissed me. He asked me if he could try being on top this time.

I said yes. He used his hands first. Then put on lambskin. Then he was inside me.

As he moved, I focused on his face. The noises of pleasure he emitted. The love in his eyes. But I also thought about how, yesterday, just before we'd gone to sleep, he'd taken me to the two-way mirror at the Khanum's chambers, not daring to leave me behind. I thought about how he said cruel things to her, making her think herself insane. How he made himself appear evil for everyone except for a select group of people. How I was one of those people - I knew him for him, and I was grateful for that.

He stopped suddenly. "Christine?"

"Yes?"

"I want to marry you."

My breath caught in my throat. "I want that too." And I did. I really did.

"We can't while we are here," he said, "for obvious reasons. No one - not even a priest - can know our feelings. But if we both make it out of here alive, I am going to marry you the first chance I have."

If, he said. If we make it out of here alive. Like it wasn't a guarantee.

I gripped his shoulders a little tighter and closed my eyes.

Of course it wasn't.


Christmas. Today was Christmas.

While I bathed, I couldn't stop picturing my father - should he be alive - alone today. This was always our favorite holiday, and to imagine him by himself, staring into a fire, snow falling outside, made a lump form in my throat.

I missed him so much.

But I submerged myself deeper into the water, forcing the thought from my mind. Today had to be a good day - Erik, clearly, was trying to make it so. I could think about Papa later. I picked up the bath brush and scrubbed myself clean - scrubbed the sorrow away as well.

I had just stepped out of the bathtub when I heard, from the other side of the bathing room door, chatter and laughter. One of the voices was Ibrahim's.

I pulled on my clothes and brushed my hair. And when I left the room, I saw the Grand Vizier sitting and smiling at Erik. But it wasn't a phony smile. It was real. He was happy again.

He saw me, smile widening. "Rose!"

"Merry Christmas, Ibrahim." I walked into the room and sat across from him, next to Erik, who immediately put an arm around me. I noticed that, next to the Grand Vizier on the couch, was a gold silk bag, large, about an arm's length in depth.

"Merry Christmas to you both." He turned to the bag and pulled out a large blue book, embellished with silver colored patterns. He held it out to me. "This is from Erik to you."

"What is it?" I looked at him, then to Erik, who smiled very slightly. I turned the book over in my hands a couple of times, and then opened it. Blank.

I smiled, turning again to Erik. "Is this another story about the Prince and the Maiden?" I placed the book on my head, just as he had that day he'd visited me - that morning I was still paralyzed in Nadir's house. Erik laughed, deeply. Ibrahim looked puzzled, but pleased at our humor. Erik brought the book from my head and closed it, handing it back to me. "It's for you to draw in, actually, but use it as you'd wish."

"Oh!" I held the book, opening it again. Excellent quality, thick paper, I realized. Absolutely perfect to make art. I took Erik's hand in mine and gazed at him. "Thank you."

Erik's eyes softened, losing their mirth and being replaced with adoration.

Ibrahim spoke up again. "And I have a gift for both of you, as well."

"Really?" said Erik. "Rather merry of you - emulating the true spirit of Christmas."

"Giving?"

"Spending money. Feeding the ever-growing beast that is commercialism."

Ibrahim pulled out, first, a red box from the bag. He gave it to me. I opened it and my eyebrows raised in immediate pleasure. "Pens!"

"High-quality pens!" Ibrahim grinned, leaning forward, hands on his knees. "For your high-quality paper."

"Thank you, Ibrahim. That's so kind." I put the pens on top of the book and looked at the bag. "What did you get Erik?"

"Yes, Vizier," said Erik, genuine curiosity in his tone, "what did you get me?"

Ibrahim brought out another book, this one a rich brown color, lined with gold. He held it out to Erik. "Take a look and see what I found for you."

Erik opened the book and inhaled audibly. He straightened and flipped through it, thumbing page to page. I looked over - and saw only music notes.

"It is a book of compositions, all classic Persian songs. Fifty or so new pieces for you to learn."

"Thank you, Ibrahim." Erik looked up at him. "I actually do appreciate it."

"I am glad my gifts please you." Ibrahim sat back in his seat. "I hope you make good use of them."

"I definitely will," I said. I wanted to take out the pens now, start drawing immediately, but I restrained myself. I was about to apologize for not getting Ibrahim a gift, when Erik spoke instead.

"You seem in a very good mood, Ibrahim," he said.

"Well, it's Christmas, is it not?"

Erik tilted his head, and Ibrahim finally laughed.

"Yes, I admit." He paused, smiling softly. "Well...yes, I will tell you. I received another letter from the Prince."

"Oh?" I perked up even further. "And what did he say?"

"He...well, he didn't say it outright, as none of our letters are explicit in our meanings. But he did say that he is coming to Tehran in two weeks' time. He implied heavily that he wishes to talk." He paused. "I cannot guarantee that it will have a good outcome, but it gives me hope, and that is all I can ask for, yes?"

Just then, the door to Erik's chambers unlocked. It opened.

Before anyone could react, before we could worry who it was, we all watched with wide eyes as Nadir entered the room. He saw all of us staring back at him, stood a bit taller, and closed the door behind him.

A beat. Then Erik spoke, voice chilly. "I don't believe I invited you."

"You did not." His voice was neutral.

I looked briefly first at Erik, then Ibrahim. Both men were stony-eyed as they took in the Daroga.

"I came to pass on information," said Nadir softly. "But first, I wanted to apologize."

"I'd rather you give your information and go," said Erik. "I don't need your apologies or-"

"I was wrong," Nadir interrupted. "I should have investigated. I shouldn't have pointed blame. And I shouldn't have been so greedy with your time, Erik."

Erik's stiff shoulders softened ever-so-slightly.

"I have been blinded by my need for control. And you-" He sighed and closed his eyes. "Erik, you do deserve happiness. I am glad you have Christine. And Christine-" He looked at me. "I am sorry that I ever made myself seem a threat to you."

I looked down.

"Ibrahim," Nadir continued, "I spoke to you in a disrespectful way. I was upset that day - scared, even-"

"I do not want your excuses," said Ibrahim, waving his words away. "If you are here to apologize, do not give me excuses."

"You're right," he said softly. "There was no excuse."

No one responded, and so Nadir moved his glasses further up his nose.

"Well, I've said my piece. What you choose to do with it is your prerogative, I suppose. As for the information." His lips thinned. "There is no execution tonight. Or for the foreseeable future for that matter."

Erik stilled. I did too.

"Due to," he continued, "a particularly bad bout of hallucinations last night, and several nights prior-" Nadir glanced at Erik- "the Khanum does not want to see anyone except for her ladies. She no longer wants to eat or drink. Ibrahim has been urging the Shah to send his mother somewhere else for months, as you know, Erik; that her madness could be healed by spending time away in a seaside estate. Part of the reason, of course, that we've planned to make her mad at all - a reason to send her away. But the Shah refuses even now. He won't let her go - he loves his mother too much and wants her close. But he also refuses to do anything about it, even as she won't to get out of bed. He is waiting for the problem to go away."

"And what if the problem does not go away," asked Erik lowly, eyes taking in Nadir with intensity, "and she merely fades from existence, trapped in her own mind?"

"Then one of our problems goes away, doesn't it?"