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A/N: Hi, everyone! I hope you are having a merry Christmas. I know I am. Here's the next chapter. Enjoy! Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Chapter 26: The Drums of War

Erik and I never had any children. Why, we never found out. It could have been any number of factors. It could be I was not compatible with this world's DNA. It could have been something having to do with Erik. Or, maybe God just didn't want us to have any children. Whatever the reason, we were left with a silent house, never to be graced by the pitter-patter of little feet. It was a sore blow for Erik, who very much wanted children.

For me, I was secretly glad we never had any. Don't get me wrong. I truly wanted a child to call my own. But not having children was for the best. The world they would have grown up in would not have been fun or enjoyable. And any son would have had to fight.

Twelve years went by faster than the previous twenty-seven. Living without Louise was hard and Erik refused to hire another maid of any sort. So I did all the cleaning, cooking, and mending. With just the two of us, it was relatively easy, though I still missed Louise and her presence. Erik helped where he could. I eventually taught him how to cook a chicken without my help. He was quite proud of the accomplishment.

Most of his time, however, was spent in the piano room, pouring over music sheets. As Erik became older, his love for his music deepened. Sometimes it was all I could do to pry him away from the piano. There were nights where I slept in an empty bed, listening to the strains of music coming from down the hall. It became his one obsession. During those times, I threw myself into writing. I knew Erik loved me still, but I was not one who liked being ignored. Especially for a piano. I lived, though. After two days of nonstop playing, he'd usually come around and grace me with his presence for a week. Surprisingly, most of the music he wrote was for me.

Those twelve years were some of the most peaceful in Paris. I believe the term used for them was belle époque, or beautiful epoch. The city prospered and life was good. My mind tortured me through those twelve years, however. I knew what was going to happen and I was powerless to stop it. I watched young couples on the streets and I knew the tragedy soon to come upon them. Erik realized something was wrong, but didn't bring it up. He knew I wanted to be alone with my demons.

Time was no longer our friend. I was almost in my sixties and Erik was just entering his seventies. In 1911, he caught a severe cold after walking through a snow storm. It had been Christmas Eve and the item he had bought me hadn't arrived until that evening. I was clueless he had went anywhere until I saw him walking in, snow slipping from his cloak and his coughing ringing through the silent house. He was sick for over two weeks. I was afraid I'd loose him. Fate spared me that for a few more years, but Erik became weaker.

By 1912, though looking as physically fit as a forty year old, he was weak on the inside. His immune system was not as it had been. My fear of him dying was escalating along with another problem soon to be at hand. The drums of war could be heard through out the land. World War I was around the corner. And I knew Paris was likely to be a target of the Germans.

The actual fighting began in August of 1914. I was relieved that France was on the Allied side. I don't know what I would have done if they allied with the Central Powers. Maybe I'd have migrated to the United States. Of course, history classes had taught me which side France would be on. I should never have doubted.

Many Parisian men were shipped off to the battle fronts. Tearful farewells were heard through out the city. The crying of women who might never see their husbands, sons, or brothers again echoed through the streets of Paris. I was thankful that Erik was too old to go to war. I don't know what I would have done. We sat in our house and watched the military depart. Erik also watched me with curiosity, knowing that I had known about this.

"How bad is the war going to be?" He pried gently. I repressed a shudder. Nothing in the world would make me want to talk about it. But, I knew Erik. Now that he knew my deep dark secret about the future, he'd want to know the details. And nothing would stop the endless questions. It was best to get it over with.

"It's going to be one of the worst wars in history." I whispered, watching a woman walk crying down the sidewalk. "Nearly ten million men will die. About a million of them will be from our country. And this will lead the way to the Second World War." I heard Erik draw in a deep breathe. Ten million people were a lot of people. Not to mention the number of wounded, missing, and civilian causalities.

"Ten million will die? That is a high price to pay for a war." He sighed and turned back to his piano. "Why did the world come to this? And what will become of Paris?" He gave me a sidelong glance as he started to play.

"I don't honestly know." I whispered. But I knew whatever happened, it could not be good. And history proved me right.

Paris was reduced in population by a third. Our streets were empty, most of the new automobiles being used in the war. We were bombed and lived in constant fear for our lives. The Germans never entered the city, though. They came close in 1918, but never made it. Erik and I stocked up on food and he pulled what money he could from our savings account. The winters were harsh and I feared for his life. Thankfully, Erik never got sick despite the epidemic that spread during the winter of 1917.

1917 brought another blow to us, but specifically to Erik. I read about it first in the papers and wished I could keep it from him. But, I knew it was impossible. This started the downfall of my life here in Paris. But more on that later.

I remember, as the Germans came close during 1918, being terribly afraid. Erik and I moved our bedroom to one of the downstairs rooms, away from any windows. There was not enough time to erect a bomb shelter (I had to explain what that was to Erik). I feared for my life. Erik comforted me, as German missiles cascaded into the city. They were still outside the city limits, but close enough that their missiles could still penetrate the outskirts.

During the night, as we waited for Allied troops to come to our rescue, Erik would read to me; dark stories of the north. Stories of love conquering all and right overcoming evil. There was comfort in those. I knew the war would turn out all right. We would win in the end. If the stories weren't enough to calm my fears, and there were no missile attacks, Erik played the piano. The sweet music calmed my heart and fears. It might be said that his music bewitched me into hoping. And fool-heartedly, hope I did. For the war ended, but our lives never returned back to normal.