The skies had opened up once again and was letting down all it's fury upon Erik and Christine. The ground, soaked from the nonstopping rain, was slick and muddy to the point where Erik had to get off the horse to help guide it. Christine offered to help, but Erik forbade it.
"We're near there now." Erik yelled back to her over the winds. She squinted to see his form; the rain was so hard, she could hardly see him only four feet away.
She tried to blink back the raindrops that fell upon her eyelashes, but as soon as she did, more replaced them, making her eyes heavy and leadened. Never had she seen such a storm as this.
Thunder and lightning clashed overhead. Christine shrieked and threw her body against the horse's, wrapping her arm's around his neck and pressing her head into it's mane.
A few minutes later, Erik called back again. "Are you still alright up there, Christine? Still breathing?"
Christine whimpered a reply, and kept her hold on the horse's neck. Finally, Erik swung up onto the saddle behind her. Immediately her arms went from the horse's neck to around Erik's middle, hiding her head under his cape once again. Now was when she felt safe.
"Christine, I need you to sit up now. You need to be in front of my mask." Erik said as they approached the clearing that made the small village in front of them visible. Reluctantly, she removed the cape from her head and sat up. Since she could no longer hold onto him, his arms came around her to keep her on and to steer the horse at the same time. Trotting now on the still slick cobble streets, Erik's keen eyes searched each house until he found the right one.
"Here we are. I could never forget this house." Erik said in an odd tone. Christine followed his gaze. It went up to the second floor balcony, where a large piece of wall was missing. Shaking his head, he tried to clear his mind.
"Shall we, my dear?" He asked in a soft, sorrowful whisper. She nodded, and walked slowly in front of him as he once again leaned on her. Taking a deep breath, she waited by the door with him, wondering what new things she would learn of his past here. "Just because we are here, don't get your heart set on a warm bath and a soft bed tonight. I told you before - if Giovanni slams the door on me, I'll walk away without an ounce of blame towards him. Do not raise your hopes; I fear this will not go well."
Christine nodded, but said nothing. On any other occasion, her inquisitive side would have taken over and have asked why this was, but, as she was beginning to realize, some things she would do best in not knowing, even though she did know that she'd have to find out sooner or later.
The door opened at this, and a servant dressed in grey stood before them.
"May I help you?" She asked in a crisp manor.
"We are here to see Giovanni."
"And your name?"
"Erik."
"And your last name?" She asked as if annoyed.
"He does not know my last name."
"Look, Monsieur, Giovanni is very busy right now. Perhaps if you came back-"
"I must see him - now."
The servant sighed and retreated into the house.
Christine looked up at him, perplexed. When he saw this, he let out a small, nervous laugh.
"Destler." He said lightly. "My last name is Destler."
"...Oh." Christine said, then, even though she tried to resist, she played with the idea of whether 'Christine Destler' sounded good or not. She finally came to the conclusion that it had a nice ring to it.
Erik shook his head and muttered to himself for the rest of the time that they waited. Finally, the servant came back.
"Monsieur Giovanni will see you now."
"Did you tell him who I was?" Erik asked with a shocked face.
"I did. I told him a Monsieur Erik and a mademoiselle was here to see him."
"But what did he say to that?"
"He asked if the gentleman named Erik had a mask. I told him this was so. He told me to send you in immediately."
Erik sighed. "Well, I am well over do to confess my sins I've committed against him. I shall be prepared when he decides to yell at me through the night."
Christine looked sorrowful as he took her hand and stepped inside the house, following the stiff servant.
She led them into a beautiful room. The wood floors shone beautifully as the red flames from the large fireplace reflected upon them. A davenport was near the fireplace, as well as a wooden rocker that faced it. But no man sat upon either of these. Rather, they found a man that looked a century old in a hardback chair along the wall, away from the fire and near the windows. His head was bowed, his eyes closed. Christine wondered if he had fallen asleep while waiting for him.
"Monsieur, your guests stand to greet you." The servant said.
The elderly man looked up, his eyes pale. "Erik? Could that really be you?"
Erik released Christine's hand and walked quickly to him. On bended knee he knelt before the man in the chair.
"I am deeply sorry to intrude upon you, but see, I travel with a woman who is in need of a room. We rode through heavy storms, and she is soaked to the skin. Had I traveled alone, I never would have burdened you. I ask that you allow us to stay for just one night. I ask you this, though I know you have every right to cast me out of your home the moment you are through with having your say. I will not blame you if you chose to do so. Yet I plead that you think of the mademoiselle whom I travel with."
"Erik...what do you say? Why do you assume I would ever wish to cast you from my home? I have awaited through many years for your return. In my younger years, I'd kneel down and pray through my empty days to see you once more. Now that I am old, I only imagine it. Could it be that you are finally here to accept my deep regrets?"
Erik looked stunned, as if someone had knocked all the air out of him. "Accept your regrets? I am in your wrong, not the other way. I am here to accept all you anger that you have built for me over the years. Am I truly wrong to assume you have thought differently?
Giovanni grinned. "I have awaited a very long time for you to return; but at least now I really know why. Later we must discuss this matter that has separated us for so many years. But now is not the time nor the place. Mademoiselle Bloom, would you take this beauty that travels with my dear boy up to a room and cater to her until dinner is served? My boy...welcome home, even if it is only for a night."
As Christine was led away by a different maid, this one with long blonde hair that curled down past her hips and bright green eyes, she looked back at Erik with curiosity sparkling in her eyes. Never in all the years she knew him had she ever heard a single soul call him 'my boy.' Who was this man who treated them so generously, when Erik seemed so sure just minutes ago that he would shut the door on them?
"Come, Mademoiselle, it is not far." The maid urged, making Christine keep her thoughts to herself and to surrender to the woman that was to care for her.

Christine entered the bathroom once it was void of all servants. Looking into the bathtub, she saw they had put bubble bath into it and the water smelled of sweet roses. She anxiously got into the warm water, feeling as if she'd stay in there for a thousand eternities.
Yet, as she found out, a thousand eternities wasn't so long - for the bath water soon turned icy and drew her out. Yet when she reached for her clothes, she found them missing. Hearing someone walking in the hallway, she quickly opened the door a crack. The woman that had led her up here was the one that she saw now.
"Excuse me, but my clothes are gone." Christine said with flushed cheeks.
"Oh, we took them for washing. I have new clothes that you may borrow for now." She said, handing her an armful of undergarments and a dress. Christine thanked her, excited now that she'd be wearing anything but the same two dresses that she had been. Shutting the door, she laid out each piece of clothing, then admired the dress.
It was long and white; simple, yet beautiful. The front bodice was colored a royal blue, which streaked a strip of the skirt directly below it. Gold ribbon laced up the royal blue pattern of the bodice, making it quite striking.
Quickly Christine dressed in it, then admired herself in the full length mirror. Upon opening the door, she found the same maid standing there in waiting. "I'll show you to your room now, mademoiselle." She said sweetly, then started walking down the hallway. Christine looked over the railing, which overlooked a part of the dining room. There she saw Erik and Giovanni talking about small things. Since their conversation was faintly heard by Christine, it was completely blocked out when the maid started to speak to her.
"So you travel with Monsieur Erik?" She asked. Christine simply nodded, straining her ears to hear the two below them.
"You must forgive the maid that answered the door. She's new, and doesn't know about Monsieur Erik."
"Know about him? What do you mean?" Christine asked, forsaking the idea of being able to hear a word of the others.
"Oh... I suppose you wouldn't know. We've been awaiting the arrival of Monsieur Erik for many years. We've all been praying that he'd show before Master Giovanni died. His current condition has worsened, therefore we have given up. Now..."
"Why? Why wait for him? I'm afraid I don't know very much about Giovanni...only that Erik has hurt him badly. Why would you await his arrival?"
The maid laughed. "Because whatever knowledge Monsieur Erik has told you, you can forget. He assumed Giovanni hated him, but it was not so. Instead, when his youngest daughter Luciana died, not only did he lose one child...but two. Master Giovanni likened Erik as his son."
"So he has mourned the fact that Erik fled, when Erik thought he was running away from Giovanni's wrath."
"It's sad, is it not? So many decades of confusion has passed in pain."
For the first time, Christine realized they were not moving anymore. Looking around, she found herself in a beautiful room, with a white canopy bed in the corner. White lace curtains hung by the window, and an oval mirror stood above a wooden vanity.
"I must go help with dinner now. Just make yourself at home. If you like to read, there are books on the side table that you are welcomed to. Oh, and my name is Sarah. Call me if you need anything."
Christine smiled, not used to having anyone wait on her. "Thank you, Sarah."
She nodded, then left the room. Once she did, Christine sat on the bed with a sigh. Sarah looked much like Meg, with her long golden hair. Both were short in stature, and very sweet and soft spoken. Christine couldn't help but wonder if she'd ever see Meg again. She tried to stop the tears that were on the verge of falling, but it was useless. She awaited for dinner with a heavy heart and a grieving mind.