I messed up consistency (thanks yugiohep) so I went back and changed a bit right after posting.

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When I woke, I found Erik in my room. He was wearing his white mask and his usual impeccable attire, and in the process of placing something on my nightstand. I sat upright, then my vision swam and my stomach lurched.

"Good morning," he told me.

I took a moment to regain myself, pressing my knuckles to my forehead.

"Good morning," I replied, turning to him. "W-what's that?"

"Marigolds," he said, gesturing to a pot of soil, which he had just placed beside me. "I thought you might like to have some up here, with you."

"That was very thoughtful of you."

He brightened considerably at this, then he cocked his head in confusion.

"Are you quite well?" he asked.

"No," I replied, clasping my stomach next. "Not at all..."

He placed his hand on my forehead. "No fever, that's good... What do you feel like?"

"My stomach is unsettled."

"No headache?"

"A little one... Could you get me some water?"

He nodded, turning to go do so. I suddenly realized I was going to be sick, so I rushed to grab my washbasin and clutched it to my chest. I sat back down at the edge of my bed, bent over the bowl in case I required it.

He came back upstairs with a glass of water, then pulled it to his chest when he saw me.

"You poor thing," he said, coming to my side. "I'll tie up your hair so you don't ruin it."

I nodded. I felt like if I spoke, the contents of my stomach would come barreling up my throat. He started pulling back my hair with pins.

"Perhaps it was something you ate," he offered.

"Don't talk about food," I pleaded, already having difficulty myself not thinking of my meal last night.

He stroked my cheek with his thumb. "Do you want music to distract you?"

I nodded, and he hurried off again. I assumed he was retrieving his violin.

My stomach settled for a moment, and I leaned back onto my pillow. This was only for a moment, though, as I jerked upright and clung to the basin once more. I almost started to cry.

Erik's footsteps echoed through the hallway. As I expected, he came in with his violin and sat himself down at the edge of my bed.

"Do you want to make a request?" he asked.

I shook my head, leaning back over the bowl with my eyes filling up. Was it going to be one miserable day after another in this strange marriage?

There was the hum of strings being strummed for a moment, silence, and then the start of the first piece. It was a bit of Vivaldi. I could recognize certain composers by now, due to Erik's obsession with them. He often critiqued their techniques, but most often only those of opera composers- all except Mozart, that is. He was the only one spared Erik's ruthless criticism. Whenever Erik critiqued my voice, he was always gentle about it, unless I wasn't improving. They received none of that. He tore their pieces apart with his words until I was stunned at his enmity. Perhaps it was because he couldn't be a famous composer that he was so cruel towards those who were. He wanted them to appreciate their good fortune and make use of it. He should have been one of the most celebrated men in the world, but due to his face and his awful upbringing, his music was only ours to know.

What music, though! Whenever I heard it, I had no doubt of his right to be so demanding of other composers. With the violin especially, his every technique possessed no flaw. His arm and bow moved as if one, while his other hand danced across the strings without any show of effort. Even his expression was hardly ever tense. Through this, it was evident that music was his escape. The only time when his features grew taut and his eyes shut in concentration was for when the emotion of the music required such. Nothing he ever did was forced or awkward: it all flowed with grace and elegance unparalleled by anyone I had ever seen.

His playing did indeed distract me, sight and sound. I shut my eyes for most of it, though, letting myself drift. I almost forgot my stomach, the bowl in my hands, so engulfed was I in what he could create, as if I were in an entirely different world full of perfection and beauty.

Then it finished. The last note trembled in the air with his vibrato.

"That was lovely," I told him.

My stomach lurched again, and I bent over the basin, thinking this time I would actually require it. My body must have been toying with me, however, because it remained empty. I whimpered.

"Don't stop playing," I told him.

He hastened to continue.

...

I stayed in bed the whole morning before I felt well enough to get dressed. As my only plain dress had been burned, I had to put on the pale blue one he had bought. It had lace around the buttons and the fabric felt like silk. I told Erik I shouldn't wear something so fine, as I feared I might ruin them, but he replied that he would be buying more for me soon anyway. It was like he was endlessly wealthy. Was he stealing, perhaps? He had before, with the managers, so I had no doubt he might do it again. I found I didn't care so much now. At least he wasn't killing.

I managed to eat some rice for lunch. He continued distracting my through the afternoon, with tricks, music, and books, until I began to feel better that evening. My stomach was by no means content, but I didn't feel the need to have a bowl on hand anymore. We played chess then, multiple times, and I lost every match, as I was accustomed to. Then Erik let me win one, though he pretended like it had been by my own merit.

"Are you going to bed early tonight?" he asked me as he set up the board again.

"No," I replied. "I'm not that tired."

"Even though you're unwell?"

"I think I just ate something last night that didn't settle with me."

He nodded, "That seems like the most likely explanation... Let's hope you feel better tomorrow. I need to take you to buy new dresses."

"I hope I feel better, then, as well," I replied, with all the false excitement I could conjure up. "Could I have some plain ones, though, or are they all going to be like this?" I gestured to the one I was wearing and tugged at the fabric.

"Plain?" he remarked, as if insulted. "You're not plain, so why should your dresses be such? Why should they not emphasize your beauty?"

"To show me off?"

His eyes narrowed. "Your beauty is not for anyone else. They don't deserve you."

"And you do?"

"No one deserves you, that is quite clear, but I am your husband, so you are mine."

"Then you are not showing me off to others?"

"Not for their delight," he chuckled. "Never for the delight of anyone but you. I want them to envy you for everything that you are. I want them to see you cherished more than they could ever hope to be, decorated with jewels to illuminate your beauty, and dressed splendidly. Though women are mostly valued for their beauty, and you possess an extraordinary amount of that, I want them to see your talents and kindness as well. They should want to be all that you are." His voice turned insistent. "I will make them treat you like a lady rather than some chorus girl, and I want their envious eyes on you always."

"I don't want to be envied," I told him sadly.

"You should have been born ugly and with few talents, then, or perhaps only ugly."

"You're not ugly."

He actually laughed, bitterly and cruelly, as if I had told a twisted joke. "Then the sun goes around the earth, Christine. Or are you referring to when I wear my mask?"

"I don't think anyone is ugly based on outside appearance alone."

"That is the definition of beauty, outside appearances... and I doubt I have any inside me, either. You say that often enough."

"But you do. Like this morning, when you brought me marigolds, and then you cared for me when I was feeling ill... Love is beautiful." Even if you don't understand it and feel more of an obsession than love. "And no one is entirely ugly."

"The way your mind works is so interesting," he told me quietly, as if intrigued. "I've never found a person whose mind always thinks the best of others. Some would call that naivety, but I... I love your mind. I love all of you."

He reached out for my hand, and I didn't wait for him to ask for it, rather choosing to assert my choice by placing mine in his immediately. His eyes widened in surprise, and his mask rose a little with his features. Then he bent his lips down to the back of my hand.

A strange creature inside me, something akin to both pity and an indescribable form of love, bid me lean down to kiss his forehead, the one part of it left uncovered by the mask. He inhaled sharply in surprise, and I remained there for a time before parting.

His eyes found mine. They opened wide to explore what I was feeling inside, but evidently couldn't comprehend what they saw. He raised a hand to where my lips had touched him.

"Why did you do that?" he asked, his voice wispy.

"I... I don't know," I replied honestly, quite surprised myself.

"Pity?"

"Maybe a little bit."

"What else? What else do you feel?"

"Love, but a different form than you would prefer."

"I'll take any form," he told me, his voice quavering. "A-any... Excuse me, I... I need..."

He left just like that, without another word. I knew he was going away to cry, and it surprised me that he didn't want my comfort. A part of me enjoyed giving the starved man affection, though, or a mere gentle touch. All he seemed to have felt were blows.

"Poor Erik," I whispered aloud.

...

As I lay down for bed that night, I wondered if Erik would do as he did yesterday. He did indeed come in, sooner than he had before, and he asked me, softly, if I was awake. I kept my eyes shut and my breathing slow.

The weight on the bed shifted as it had before. He lied down on top of the blankets, on his back, silent and still. I kept myself awake, waiting for him to leave, but he did not. Oddly enough, I did not fear him. I even thought I could risk pretending to roll over in bed, just to see how he would react.

He leapt up the instant he heard me shift over, and he pulled the door shut as he left. Evidently he did not want me to know of his presence.

I couldn't offer for him to sleep beside me, though. It made me too vulnerable. Him stealing this without my knowledge was far different from me offering him a place in my bed. I didn't mind this, as long as he didn't touch me.

I let myself fall asleep.

Mere moments after my eyes had shut, I found myself in a room made of solid stone, with one wall comprised of an enormous mirror. I stared into my own eyes while my face rippled like water, then I glanced down at my stomach. It swelled up, expanding infinitely. I feared it was some sort of parasite, so I screamed for help. No one came. I continued growing and growing until I feared I would be smothered by my own body. I was pressed against the walls, crying out for someone, anyone to hear me.

That was when I jerked upright in bed, my forehead damp with sweat. I buried my head in my hands to collect myself after such an odd dream. Then my mind spun and clicked with a painful possibility that it had alerted me to.

Could I be with child?

I tried to dismiss the idea. After all, I had had my monthlies... but the last one had been odd, with no headache or tightness to my abdomen, and it had been at an unusual time. There had also been only splotches that day, and no more. Did that mean something? I had blamed it on anxiety, but... now I was unsure.

My stomach was well enough that I could pretend I was fine that day. I didn't want Erik to suspect anything. If he found out, it would prove that Raoul and I had been together when I lived with him these past weeks. Though Erik had known that I had been with Raoul twice, I hadn't specified when, and perhaps he thought those were both before I had been abducted. I had no doubt he would be furious if he found out, or was simply even reminded it. But certainly most of his fury would be directed at what had become of it. His mind moved so quickly that he would likely be suspecting it now. I had to be careful.

"Do you want to play chess?" Erik offered me after a light breakfast.

"Yes, very much," I replied, going to sit down at the board by the white pieces.

"I advise you to move a knight first. You succeed more when you do that."

"I agree..."

We played in silence for a while. I took whole minutes contemplating where to move, but Erik would do so immediately. It was bewildering, like he knew where I would go and had already planned for it. There was a maddening aspect to his genius.

"You're improving," he told me in the middle of the game.

"I'm glad you think so," I replied absentmindedly, finding myself increasingly distracted by the possible child growing inside me.

"Do you want to go buy dresses after this?"

"I would..."

He glanced at my pieces, then back into my eyes. "Move your queen."

"It's not fair if you help me-"

"What if I'm lying?"

I sighed, "All right..." I then realized what he was saying, and placed him in check, beaming triumphantly.

"Maybe you'll win twice," he commented, placing his head on folded hands.

"You let me win last night, and this time I had help."

"You used to ask for that," he told me, smiling to himself. "But I will neither confirm nor deny your accusation... You do know that is check-mate, yes, not check?"

I blinked. "But your pawn-"

"Since when could pawns move backwards? Are you distracted by something that you have forgotten such a simple rule?"

"A little, I suppose... You let me win again, though."

He shrugged, "I suppose it's nice to lose sometimes... Come, let's go buy you some dresses."

He extended his hand to me, and I took it. There was such joy that came into him at the touch of my hand.

...

When we arrived in town, he linked my arm with his as we walked down the sidewalk. I would have preferred simple hand-holding, but I didn't think raising a fuss about it was that advisable. Why did it matter, anyway? There was little difference.

"Do you see any shops you like?" he asked me.

They all had windows out front that peered inside to reveal fine dresses draped on mannequins. There was a striped one I fancied, blue and white, with glass buttons. Erik took me inside this one to be fitted. A lady lead me to the back to take my measurements. I lifted up my arms and stared ahead, suddenly realizing I might not fit into these new dresses soon, if my suspicions were true.

"Do you have any requests for the fit?" the lady asked.

"No," I said softly.

"Then we should have your dress ready in two days, unless you want to purchase another?"

"I'll ask my husband."

The name tasted odd in my mouth. My husband.

I went out to Erik, who seemed to pacing a little as he waited.

"Do you want to pick one out for me?" I asked.

He blinked. "Pick one... for you?"

I nodded. "If there's one you like."

He glanced around. "No. None here save the one you chose. They're all puffed up in odd places save that one."

The lady who had measured me crossed her arms with indignation at his comment..

"The blue and white one only, then?" she asked.

"Yes," Erik replied.

He paid half the price, as we would pay the rest when we received it. He proceeded to take me to countless other shops, and I purchased more than I could ever need. The only article of clothing I had any real interest in, though, was stockings: striped ones, checkered, or any pattern in vivid colors. While other women adored shoes and jewelry, stockings gave me more delight than either. Erik was glad to buy me something that I actually seemed to care about.

Then, after that, he insisted on buying me pearls.

"I don't need any," I told him.

"Ladies wear pearls," he replied, "in their ears and around their necks, even on their clothes."

"But I don't need any... I will wear a brooch, though, if you want to buy me one of those."

"A brooch? Do young ladies wear brooches?"

"Some do, and I want to."

"Then by all means." He gestured into the jewelry shop.

A man greeted us and showed us to a glass case with a number of brooches, all set on black velvet. They were mostly black or gray ovals outlined in silver, with the white image of a woman's face in the center. But there were flowers as well, their glass petals lined with little pearls or jewels, and a silver bird upon a nest of vines.

"Which do you prefer?" Erik asked.

"The bird is lovely," I replied.

"Is that the one you want, then?"

"Yes... I think so. The flowers are too ornate, and the others are rather similar to what everyone wears."

"Then the bird is an excellent choice," he agreed. "We don't want you looking like everyone else, now, do we?"

He went to go pay for it. I continued eying it through the glass. I had never thought I would be living a life where I was able to have anything I wanted, and yet nothing my heart truly desired.

It was removed from the case and placed in a cushioned box, which Erik handed to me. He was so happy to be giving me things I wanted. I almost wished I wanted a thousand different objects, but I had never wanted much.

We headed home. My mind reverted back to considering what to do about the possibility of a child. I needed to think up ways to protect him or her. Earlier, I had merely been thinking deeply on the subject, but now I needed a solution, and I realized I had no choice but to act quickly. Erik would find out any day now, whether or not my suspicions were true, I had to prepare for the worst. His reaction, I had no doubt, would be violent. He would be furious that I carried any memory of Raoul, and what I feared most of all was that he might try to get rid of it. A lesser fear was that he might torment me over it for some time until his anger ran dry. All were likely possibilities.

The realization of what I had to do crashed over me. I was suffocating just thinking about it. I gasped for air, but there was none, nothing but my own terrifying new knowledge.

I had to pass the child off as Erik's.