Apologies for taking so very long to update. I had internet problems at home, then I came back to university and had internet problems here as well! Due to the demands of actually getting a degree I'm going to have to update maybe once a week or something. Thanks for the reviews, it always makes me smile to think people enjoy what I write! So, this is the super slushy bit today. Let me know what you think.

My God, that night! It seems like yesterday and like a lifetime ago. Well, I supposed for me it actually is more or less a lifetime ago. How time flies. But to continue with my tale.

So there we were, huddled on a doorstep in the dead of night. Occasionally a singing drunk would wander past us, or some prostitute on the way to 'work'. It was cold, and I was afraid. Erik could feel me shivering as I pulled in closer to him, trying to share his warmth.

Erik sighed loudly, and I felt his breath tickle my ear.

"This isn't right. We have to find somewhere to sleep."

"Where? We don't know the city."

"Come with me," he said, and pulled me to my feet.

We meandered through the streets, hunching into the shadows when anyone came past for fear it might be someone from the camp, or worse. Eventually, we came to what during the daytime was probably a bustling thoroughfare. This late at night, though, it was deserted apart from those who make their living in the darkness. As luck would have it, there in front of us was a tall, thin, grubby building with a sign hanging above the door that announced by its existence that this was an inn. The paint had peeled to make both picture and lettering unreadable, but it has since been repainted. Now, I know that my first night with Erik was spent in an inn called 'Le Gitan Errant' - 'The Wandering Gypsy'.

Erik marched boldly up to the door and knocked. After an age it was opened by an elderly woman in a nightdress with a candle in one hand, who was clearly angry about being woken up.

"What do you want?" she growled.

"A room for me and my…sister, please."

She looked me up and down, holding her candle above my head to get a look at my face. I realised later she must have been checking that I wasn't a whore. She spat the price of the room in my face, and I handed over a little of my hard-earned silver.

"Follow me," she said, turning and beckoning us inside.

She led us up and up, right to the top of the building to a room that had clearly once been servants quarters. The bed - there was only one - was narrow, and looked liable to collapse at any moment. There was a thin blanket, a thin pillow, and a thin mattress. There was also a shaky washstand with a chipped jug and basin resting atop it, underneath a small grimy window that looked out over the rooftops of the poor of Paris. A candle in a holder rested on the floor.

"May we have a light for this?" asked Erik, picking up the candle and brandishing it at the old woman.

Grumbling, she allowed him to light the candle from her own. As he held it, the old woman saw Erik's face for the first time. I saw her eyes widen, but she said nothing.

Still grumbling, she turned and left us. Erik bolted the door behind her, and as he did so my so-far-withheld tears began to fall. Erik carefully set the candle down, and took me in his arms. Having hardly ever been looked after in my short life, being protected and cared for was a new experience. This thought did nothing to stem the flow of my tears. Erik's kisses, however, soon did.

Remember, unknown reader, that I was afraid of all that was outside our room. Remember that I knew nothing of the ways of love. Remember reader, above all, remember that I was a mere fourteen years old.

By the light of our one candle, and the thin rays of moonlight that entered through the grimy window, on the aged bed with the thin mattress, thin blanket, and thin pillow, I gave myself to Erik.

Fourteen years, goodness, fourteen years old. Fourteen and in love. Fourteen and foolish. I was far too young to understand the import of that night. Now, I look in the mirror at my wrinkled face and wonder if we had stayed on the doorstep whether our lives would have been utterly utterly different.

Afterwards, as we lay together in each other's arms, I told him I loved him. He turned to me, kissed me gently, and said the same. In the warmth of mutual adoration, we slept.

Sorry it's a little shorter that usual. It was going to be longer, but this seemed like a natural cut-off point. Oh, and in answer to michi-nin, I can't remember if Madame Giry will be in this, because I have temporarily misplaced my story plan. Eek!