Chapter Twenty-Six: Something There
As the days passed, Christine found more and more reason to ask herself that same question.
Instead of what had happened, however, it quickly became what was happening?
Because there was no denying it.
Something had changed between Erik and Christine.
She wasn't sure if it had started that night when he'd saved her from the wolves...or perhaps it had been the afternoon he'd shared the library with her and she'd first seen the softer side of him?
It might have been somewhere in between when Madame Giry had told her the story of his childhood.
Still, when it had happened didn't matter.
What mattered, was the simple truth that there was a spark of something between them that hadn't been there before.
Something that made the days at the castle feel less like a prison sentence and more like fun.
And Erik had become less like her captor and more of a friend.
Christine no longer snuck down to the kitchen to get her meals.
Instead, she and Erik shared the dining room table - he at one end, she at the other.
Sometimes they would each bring a book and read at the table in companionable silence.
At other meals, they would talk about their other interests.
Erik had a great passion for music and architecture, while Christine adored art in all of its many forms.
And both of them loved roses.
Meals, books and flowers, however, were not the only things they shared.
When the weather permitted, Christine would join him outside as he showed her around the grounds, or they would walk Étoile.
And even when the weather wasn't perfect, they still found ways to enjoy themselves outside the castle walls.
Snowy days led to snowball fights and sunny days led to picnics.
Christine even encouraged Erik to help her and the staff clean up the castle - the two of them scrubbing the floors until the old, gleaming marble shone through, wiping the years of grime off the windows until they saw sparkling sunlight.
They transformed the West Wing, removing the shattered columns and debris and replacing the tattered curtains.
With each moment and adventure they shared, Christine grew more and more comfortable around Erik.
She saw the kindness in his eyes when he looked at her.
She heard his intelligence when they debated literature.
And she saw the pride he had in his home when he looked around.
"I'm seeing the man inside the monster," she wrote one afternoon in a diary she'd started keeping.
If her current experiences didn't warrant a journal, the redhead didn't know what did.
"I'm finally seeing what Madame Giry and André and Firmin and all the others have seen all along...
And yet I can't help but wonder what he hides behind his mask?
What could be so terrible as to make him want to hide himself away from the world for fifteen years?
Obviously the staff couldn't have gone anywhere, but Erik hadn't been turned into an object...
Would it really have been that difficult for him to go out and socialize for just a few short hours?"
Closing the pages, Christine stood up and went over to the window of her elegant room.
Outside, the last of the day's light was fading.
A nearly full moon was beginning to peek over the horizon, illuminating the snowy gardens below in a pale, ethereal glow.
Looking out, Christine was struck once more by the beauty of the castle.
Ever since her friendship with Erik had grown stronger and they had made the effort to return to the castle to its former glory, the whole castle had become brighter and cheerier right before her very eyes.
She saw the beauty in the lines of the stone that made up the castle walls and appreciated the towering turrets.
It may not have been the quaint and picturesque architecture of Brocéliande, but it was still absolutely enchanting.
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