Note, if there are any corrections needed with this scene, let me know. I'm not Catholic, and I've never attended mass I know that morning mass was regularly attended every morning, but I could find little to no information on morning medieval mass in the internet, though there is some information of regular Sunday mass. I did the best I could but obviously it's not perfect. . :)

The morning light streamed through the colored window at the head of the building. It shone through the building, illuminating the crisp, early morning air. The window it shone through was made by fine artists, hired and surveyed by Erik himself, depicting the Christ child with his mother. It was a fine work of art, the finest window in Northern France, save for what laid in Paris itself.

The building too, was beautiful. Finely carved stone supported the roof. Wooden benches, their wood imported from the finest woods in Germany, laid in perfect rows. They were so finely sanded that worshipers never needed worry of splinters. The ends depicted scenes from the bible. The pulpit where the priest stood on that fine morning glistened, freshly cleaned, letting each detail of it's own intricate scenes shine to the audience.

Erik paid attention to none of this. Neither did he look at the cotton like clouds passing by overhead against a sky as blue as the pleasant sea below. The grass that was blowing gently in the wind, creating ripples likes the sea not far beyond it. His ears heard not the Birds chirped from their nests, newly make in unseen places in the stone.

The priest was speaking of something, but Erik did not hear him either, nor did he focus his eyes on the priest throughout the sermon as he should have.

His focus, was his wife.

His eyes constantly crept to the edge of his mask, where it hindered his vision, to see the curl of Christine's mouth. Her eyes were staring obediently ahead at the priest, just as they should have, but Erik was sure she was paying no more mind to the man of God than he was.

For one thing, she had allowed him to hold her hand throughout the whole meeting, though it was always carefully hidden beneath their skirts. For another, her eyes, while seeming to be focused on the priest, in truth was focusing on nothing at all. Erik stroked he back of her hand with his thumb, her smile deepened.

When Erik had woke with her in his arms, he had nearly wept with relief. He had clung to her still sleeping body, burying himself in her comforting warmth. In the minutes before dawn, he had taken the opportunity to take in every curve and hill in his wife's face as he had not been able to in months. He had noticed the morning light then, it framed his wife's face perfectly.

The meeting finished after an age, the congregation stood to leave. As discreetly as he could, Erik loosened his hand from Christine's. They stood, Erik put an arm around her waist, pulling her close to him. She relaxed into the motion, her head settling comfortably against his shoulder.

The priest called them back, Erik frowned beneath his mask as they headed towards the man. Christine seemed confused as well, her lips pressed tightly together, her hand settled on her stomach. He'd noticed that was where her hand settled most, recently.

They waited, the priest arranged a few things on his pulpit before walking down the steps. He glanced at Erik before turning to Christine. By now the building was empty. "Your Grace." He said. "I understand that you have taken up riding?"

Christine frowned, Erik saw the same annoyance that had appeared when he had spoken to her of the same topic take form. "Yes, what of it?"

"You have been riding by yourself along the countryside?"

She blinked. "Yes, occasionally. When Meg cannot join me."

The priest shook his head, sighing heavily. "My dear, such things are not for women. Especially for woman such as yourself, you are putting you and your child in grave danger. What if you fell and began labor? We could not help you. Or what if you were captured for your ransom, or taken advantage of? You must not ride alone, it is not seemly."

Erik heard Christine give a little huff, and she stood straighter. "And if I want to be alone? I take those rides for their solitude. I cannot find it anywhere else."

The priest smiled sadly. "Your Grace, is solitude worth the risk of losing your child?"

Christine slumped a little, Erik's hand tightened at her waist. "Perhaps short rides might be permitted?" Erik asked, keeping his voice pleasant. "So long as she stays within view of the castle?"

Another shake. "No chances must be taken. She must have someone with her if she rides."

"Maybe now you'll take up my offer to ride with me?" Christine said, her eyes displaying the growing mirth inside them. She did not wait for his answer, and turned back to the priest. "Very well, I will no longer ride alone. I will not endanger our child."

The priest smiled. "Good, and thank you, your Grace."


"You give in too easily."

Christine's gentle smile returned as they walked out of the church. "Oh?"

Erik shook his head. "I do not like how the church dictates such things. Surely if it was such a concern, it would have been mentioned in the bible-"

His wife interrupted him. "Whether it is his right, or not, his words are true in one area. I am a woman of significant standing now, if I was captured, or if I was injured and unable to return..." She stopped to wave to one of the passing ladies and returned to their conversation. "I will not take such risks. Though-" Here she squeezed him, pulling him closer. "I do expect you to ride with me at least once or twice now."

"I would have done so anyway." Erik said, releasing a heavy breath. He stopped to help her up the steps into the castle. "Now... now that I understand that... well." He sighed.

Christine finished the sentence. "Take joy in your presence? Want it every day, and miss it with all my heart when it is gone?" Her eyes blinked coyly up at him.

He was positive that she meant it as a joke, but he still hunched over, as if to steady himself against the shame the sentence brought. "I'm sorry."

She stopped in the hallway, giving a quite glance around the empty hallway before sneaking a kiss against his jaw. "No matter. We have solved it now." Her eyes were serious as she pulled away. "However, may I request something?"

Erik continued them on their walk. "Anything."

"I think... I would like..." Christine huffed and pressed her lips together. "A guarantee, of sorts. That there will be a portion of every day that we send together. Alone. Or at least somewhat."

"I am a busy man, that is true..." Erik warned, but Christine waved her hand.

"Oh course there will be days you will be gone traveling, or days where you are busy. But even a few minutes would suffice..." Christine shook her head. "Lady Valerious and her husband always took their lunch together, to take the time to discuss what is needed." She looked up at him. "Is there any time where we could regularly meet?"

Erik shrugged. "I will think on it, but why-" He stopped, thinking of the good month and a half where both of them had never spoken more than small conversation to each other, simply because they both could not 'find the time'. "Ah." He finished lamely. "Yes, I see. Perhaps it would be wise..."

Christine giggled. "I remember, I kept on thinking- 'if only there was a time where I was sure I could capture your attention alone, where you could not escape', I could have cleared the whole matter up." She shook her head. "Hence why I was always asking for more time with you."

It did seem a good idea. And yet, as he thought through his day, he could not come with a time. "My day is so irregular..." He murmured. "One day I am grading papers, the next, I must travel, or settle disputes..."

Christine squeezed his hand. "I used to bring you food every evening, and play chess." She suggested, her eyes bright. "Perhaps that would suffice?"

Erik shook his head. "Not in the spring."

"Well, think on it please." She smiled up at him. He longed to reach down and kiss her lips.

Instead, he gave her assurance, he clasped her hands and brought them up to what would have been his mouth. "I will." He promised.

The solution came to him that evening, just a few hours before bed. He searched his room until he found an old mask which had a piece broken off at the bottom. Carefully with a knife he carved it to his needs.

Then he stood in front of his small mirror, and nodded in satisfaction. The mask covered his entire face, save for his mouth. He'd always thought his mouth looked normal enough, if a little thin and grey. He wouldn't want to wear it in public, but alone with his wife...

He proposed his idea to her the moment the door closed behind her. "We will take breakfast together." He explained, holding up the new mask eagerly. "To take place of the suppers you bring, and I shall be able to eat with you."

Her eyes had warmed, lips curled into a wide smile, her hands settling on her slightly swollen stomach.

"It's a perfect solution." She praised. "I couldn't have thought of anything better myself." A boyish pride puffed him up, filling him like good wine. He hadn't felt this way since Giovanni had taken him under his arm.

Only, he thought as Christine put out the lights, the reward was even more sweet.

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