One - possibly two - chapters left.
Below is a brief synopsis of what - I believe - will be my next story.
The Walking Wounded
The war had taken everything from him; his honor, his dignity...his humanity. He returned to the land of his birth to live out his life in solitude - recoiling from the very people he had sacrificed everything to save. Erik Valkyrie, also known as Erik the Valiant - Warlord of Ottaviah, was only a ghost of the man he had once been.
No longer able to fill the position of General Warlord, his commander and king sends him home to make the best of the rest of his life. He sinks into the darkness that has filled him and thinks to never live again.
His two younger brothers, Trey and Gage, though shocked by the change in their brother, are determined to be there for him. They invade his home, infect his life, and cause general mayhem - hoping to draw him back into the light.
It isn't until they enlist the services of a mysterious woman, that life once again comes to Valkyrie Manor.
It will be an alternate universe, Erik/Christine work of fiction.
DARK SIDE OF THE GLASS
CHAPTER 48
It would have been a more pleasant journey if the four horsemen of the apocalypse had not accompanied them; but there they sat, right across from them with hounding looks on their faces and dark clouds of dismay hanging over them.
Erik had made it clear, undoubtedly, that he was not interested in taking on the role of a leading member of the Russian aristocracy – no matter how sweet they tried to make it. In fact, the conversation had abruptly ended not long ago, with Erik piercing them with his eyes and biting tone.
All but one were several years older than he was, and the one that was his age seemed rather grotesquely taken with himself – in many ways. Erik disliked every one of them for different reasons, and did not care if they knew.
Anya had fallen asleep beside him, after hoping their cabin guests would splurge for a cabin of their own – but to no avail – they had made themselves at home for the ten-hour trip to Valencia; and Lavanya had given up any hope of having her husband to herself.
After a few hours of sleeping, she roused beside him, stretched her muscles, and then smiled sweetly at him. She put her hand to her abdomen and rubbed, trying to ward off the sudden wave of nausea.
"What is wrong?"
Erik touched his palm to her cheek and rubbed its softness with the pad of his thumb. He had concern in his eyes, fearing that she was becoming ill.
"I am not sure; I feel upset to my stomach…maybe I am just hungry."
Erik stood and held out his hand, beckoning her to follow him. She took it and stood, closing her eyes to the sick feeling and then walked regally beside him.
"Then I shall feed you." Erik stated, kissing her hand.
He did not care that their unwelcome companions arose to follow them; he turned to them, lifted a foreboding brow, lowered his chin with a deliberately threatening glare in his eyes, and shut the door.
They did not follow.
They were able to spend an hour or two enjoying each other's company in the dining car; the food was pleasant enough and the evening sky began to settle in, leaving a romantic glow in the car.
"What are you going to do if your nephew has no more of an interest in taking on the title and estate than you do?"
Erik circled the rim of his coffee cup with his finger, staring at nothing in particular as he considered the situation. Arrangements had been made should it come down to it. He had nothing against Russia and her noble families; he just preferred to disassociate himself with his father's sins…he had enough of his own.
"Worry not; my beloved….all is well." He assured her.
She nodded her head, trusting that he knew what he was doing and only wanting him to be happy – whatever the outcome was.
A couple of hours later, they arrived in Valencia. They booked hotel rooms for the night, and finally Erik and Anya had some alone time. Anya was truly exhausted and Erik had been watching her closely over the past few hours. She was pale and nothing seemed to be settling on her stomach…not to mention that she had to visit the water closet every couple of hours.
She seemed to hurt all over and Erik did nothing but hold her through the night. Somewhere after midnight, he drifted to sleep with her head on his chest…resting peacefully with her gentle breathing as his lullaby.
♥♣♠♦
He awoke to the sound of her being sick in the water closet, and he immediately went to tend to her. He found her curled over the commode – white as a sheet.
"Oh Erik…I do not know what is wrong with me…I feel awful."
He rubbed her back and then picked her up in his arms, carrying her to the bed.
"You just stay here today…get some rest…" he kissed her forehead, "….I will go see my sister and nephew on my own."
She shook her head vehemently, protesting his suggestion with every ounce of energy she possessed.
"We shall see…" he was trying to humor her, but he was not sure she would feel up to going out. "…I will go down and get you some bread and jam…nothing more until we know what is going on with your stomach."
She nodded her agreement and sat collapsed onto the pillow. She was determined to feel better so that she could be by Erik's side when he met his sister and nephew for the first time.
Several minutes later, Erik stood by the bed with a plate of toasted bread and some jam. She propped her eyes open and smiled at him, suddenly realizing how ravenous she was.
"Just a little at a time, Anya….no need to make things worse." She nibbled on the bread and though how wonderful it tasted. "I have located a doctor, we will stop by his office – which is just around the corner – and let him take a look at you."
She started to protest, but Erik quirked his brow and lifted his finger.
"Do it for me…I will feel better."
♦♠♥♣
The doctor, portly and pleasant, examined her with fervor, making humming sounds deep in his throat as he confirmed or disproved whatever theories he was forming.
"How long have you had these symptoms?" He asked in Spanish, a language that Erik just happened to speak fluently.
"For the last couple of days." Erik answered.
The doctor nodded and crossed his arms over his ample stomach, patting his pursed lips with a chubby finger.
He asked several more questions of a personal nature and finally smiled jubilantly.
"I have one more question for the lady, and then I will give my diagnosis." He lowered his double chin and looked at Erik over the rims of his wire spectacles. "When was her last cycle?"
Erik looked baffled for a moment, unaware of what the doctor was asking…then dawn bloomed in his eyes and he shook his head and chuckled; embarrassment washing over him like rain.
"She has not had one since we have been married; of that, I am certain." Erik assured him. "We have been married a month."
"Anya, the doctor needs to know when you last menstruated." Erik asked, turning to her when the doctor wanted a more specific answer.
"Two weeks before we were wed."
She answered quickly and then her eyes grew very large and a slow smile spread over her features.
Erik answered the doctor, totally missing the look of absolute euphoria on Anya's face.
"It is as I thought…" the doctor sighed, putting away his instruments and settling into the large chair behind his equally large desk. "…your wife is with child."
Erik did not move at first, unsure that he had heard correctly. The doctor noticed his stunned look and gave a reassuring nod of his head and a huge grin.
Erik turned to Anya and strode to her side, pulling her to him in a tender, passionate embrace…tears coursing down his cheek and the white surface of the mask.
"We are going to have a baby, are we not? That is what he said...is it not?" Anya questioned, with a radiant smile.
Erik only trembled in her arms, holding her to him desperately…afraid it would all disappear if he opened his eyes or let her go.
She cradled him in her arms, allowing her own tears to flow; finally free to accept the joy that God had granted them both.
"A baby…." Erik uttered, unable to stop the yearning in his voice, "…me…" he raised his eyes and stared into hers; a mixture of panic, delight, and elation deepening their hue to a deep, jade green, "…I am going to be a father."
Laughter filled the room, lifting the heart of a man who had once thought never to experience the blessing of a family; lifting it above the pain, the abandonment, and the loneliness.
It was not long before Erik and Anya were on their way, the doctor having given her some home remedies for warding off the nausea.
Although his first inclination was to shout the news from the mountain tops, Erik did not want the first people he shared is impending fatherhood with to be the Russian princes he had been doing his best to avoid….so he chose to rejoice within himself and smile for no apparent reason.
The carriage awaited them and they were on their way toward a small village on the outskirts of Valencia. They could find little out about a widowed ex-tavern wench with a son of about twelve years of age.
The trip was quiet; the only words spoken were winks and smiles shared between Erik and Anya; for their part, the "four horsemen" remained stiff and reserved – barely breathing - or so it seemed.
"We sent a messenger ahead of us to inform her that you were coming and your relationship to her and her son."
Erik had not been aware of this, but was grateful for it anyway. He had not wanted to come unannounced into her home and disturb her life and that of her son.
They came to a stop in front of a small house they were told to go to by the local townspeople. It was quite small, but well kept. Erik immediately noticed the landscaping and the upkeep of the house.
Erik stepped out of the carriage and turned to help Anya down, bringing her to him for a quick hug. He looked pointedly at the four princes.
"I can do this on my own; I do not need the four of you in there giving the boy a complex – or her for that matter."
"But, Monsieur Lacroix, we highly recommend that…"
"My decision is final."
With that, he shut the carriage door with a note of finality, took Anya's hand, and headed for the front door.
A smart looking woman in her mid-forties answered the door; and Erik immediately felt a note of familiarity upon seeing her. Her eyes were shaped the same as his and she had the same elegant movements in her limbs. She was highly intelligent, a fact that Erik could sense just by being in the same room with her.
"Good afternoon, Simone; I am Erik Lacroix, and this is my wife Lavanya." He sketched her and elegant bow and then lifted his eyes and smiled brightly. "It seems I am your brother."
She stared at him with skeptical eyes, but upon noticing the same similarities that he did, she moved closer to him and wrapped him in a warm embrace.
"My mother deduced long ago that I had some siblings somewhere…with father's reputation like it was…" she wiped away a tear and smiled, "…I am so thankful to finally meet you."
It was as though they had been together for years and had never been separated. Lavanya was instantly taken by her and Simone shared the same sentiment about her.
"Damien will be home shortly, he is across the way playing with one of his best friends."
"You know why we are here." Erik stated, knowing she was aware of the situation.
"Yes, but I must admit that I am quite stunned by your reluctance to take the title and estate."
Erik began the long story of his childhood, the death of his mother, his enslavement with the gypsies and in India – he left nothing unsaid. The story took a good hour – reducing Simone and Lavanya to tears - and Damien walked in toward the end of it.
He was a handsome young boy with a head of dark, wavy hair, large, engaging brown eyes, and a bright, innocence-filled smile. It was uncanny – the resemblance he had to Yves – a resemblance for which Erik was thankful.
Upon seeing Erik, Damien scrutinized every aspect him. His intelligent, sharp eyes missed nothing, but Erik could sense that he was not threatened by him, just curious.
"Damien, you are certainly a strapping young man." Erik remarked after Damien had finally finished his visual scan, relaxed, and sat down beside his mother…propped on the arm of the chair.
Simone's eyes took on a faraway look that was indicative of someone whose life had not been an easy one and who did not easily accept an unseen benefit when it appeared.
"It has not been an easy thing, knowing that my son is gifted in many things, but unable to give him what he needs to grow and build his skills."
She had not looked up, but continued in a storybook fashion – relaying facts that Erik needed to hear.
"Jorge, my husband, was a good man. We had tried for years to have a baby and finally, after ten years, our dreams came true. He was a hard working shipping merchant from a local family. He had aspirations of owning his own business – but his gambling habit weighed heavily on our finances and eventually all of our money was gone."
Her eyes drifted from Lavanya's compassionate features to Erik's concerned ones. He understood vices…probably better than any man alive did – but Jorge had been given the blessing of a family; he should have taken whatever measures were necessary to ensure they always had enough.
"I do not believe in quick remedies and instant satisfaction….I stopped believing in happy endings years ago."
Her narrowed gaze was not accusing, but held doubt and frustration. Erik gave Simone a reluctant smile and creased his forehead in thought.
"I would be willing to give everything over to him, but the aristocracy is going to demand that he be schooled in the finest schools and taught the proper ways of the nobles."
Damien sat with his head bowed; quietly reflecting on everything that was transpiring. He was an introspective young man, something Erik related to immensely.
"Damien…" Erik centered his eyes on his nephew and watched the young man's shoulders square and his chin rise in awareness, "…what do you think over all that has been said today?"
Strong, inquisitive eyes meant Erik's gaze with a fervor he was certain he had not seen in one so young. Damien looked from his mother to his uncle and listened intently to what was being said. He knew that his grandfather had been the cause of his uncle's deformity – which forced him to wear the mask. He knew that his grandfather had treated his uncle no better than most people treat their pets.
"If I take this title and the estate that my grandfather possessed…can I make a difference?"
Erik cocked his head and regarded the young man with a newfound pride and open acceptance.
"What kind of a difference do you speak of?"
He paused at that moment, thinking about what he wanted to say to clarify his desires.
"A difference in the lives of those he oppressed…can I undo or smooth out any of the damage that has been done?"
Erik looked him directly in the eye and saw only loyalty, determination, ambition, and an eagerness to make a difference.
"Damien, you can do anything you put your mind to. With the responsibility of taking on the title come the wealth, prestige, and power…things you are not yet ready to handle."
There was no argument from the boy, just a hint of overwhelming panic evident in the widening of his eyes and the biting of his bottom lip.
"They have agreed to allow us both to share the title for the time being…I am instructed to school you, refine your speech patterns, teach you Russian, French, and English, and make you into a young gentleman. When you are of age- eighteen to twenty-one – I will rescind the title; and it, and all that goes with it, will be yours."
Although Erik could sense his hesitancy, he could also see the young boy's mind spinning with the possibilities.
"Will I have to live in Russia?" Damien asked - reluctance and uncertainty in his tone.
"That is your decision. Father has an estate in France that I would be more than delighted to give you as a residence – it is fully staffed, and close to where I currently reside. It would be easy to teach you all that you must learn if you reside there."
Erik was certain the boy was eager to accept.
"Does mother get to stay with me?"
Erik felt his heart lurch at the almost hopeless sound in the boy's voice. He feared that he had to make this decision and transition without his mother by his side…and it terrified him. He loved his mother and wanted to be with her; that, Erik understood all to well.
"Of course, Damien; she will be with you every step of the way."
The next day, gathering their meager belongings and wearing bright, hopeful smiles, Simone Molinero de la Escudero and her son, Damien Escudero, boarded the train with Erik and Lavanya; eager to make a new life in France.
It was all that Erik could do not to laugh with hysterical joy over the way his life had turned out. He had a family – a wife, a baby on the way, a sister, and a nephew – and along with them, he had Tarrah, Annette, and even Christine and Raoul.
He was dangerously close to being a respectable member of society…with that thought hanging fresh in his mind, he did laugh.
TBC