Christine watched from a distance as her husband and daughter walked through the gardens in a silent manner. Erik held the small princess in his arms as she laid her head on his chest contently looking around at all the colorful flowers. It was a beautiful day out, just enough sun and a wind to make the warm day bearable. It was a day where the House of Nobles was closed due to the sickness that was running ramped throughout the country.
Christine was thankful for that, with its closure, Erik could enjoy a moment with his daughter. Her heart felt heavy as she placed her hand on her stomach. Perhaps she was paranoid, but she swore she saw a slight bump when she came out of the bath that morning; she dressed quickly in case Erik came in. She could not tell him yet. The news of his daughter's death looming and the news that there would be a child would make him feel torn. She could not put him through that agony now, but she wanted so badly for him to share the joy that she had been carrying.
"She is beautiful." A voice said behind her.
"Oh Madame." Her hand dropped quickly and she turned to receive the woman. "I did not hear you come."
"I meant not to be heard." Madame Giry replied. "They are so happy together, are they not?"
"Yes." She watched with loving eyes as Cecile made a pale finger point towards a butterfly and Erik take her over to see it.
"The king is a very caring and loving father." The woman spoke.
"He is."
"It is horrible to loose one's child." Madame Giry sighed. "It is not supposed to happen in that order."
"Sorielli was a good woman." Christine smiled sadly, trying to offer some kind of condolence, but knew there was none. "I was devastated to learn of her death."
"Yes." She nodded, "But I was lucky to have Megan. She is truly what saved me, as well as my other children. They were a comfort to me, knowing that they were there and alive my heart was at peace."
"Madame." Her eyes shifted slightly, and then back to her husband. "I do not want him torn or sad with the news of a child."
"The king will be happy."
"But what if he is not?" She turned to her. "What if the king is not pleased with the news? He will question why did not Cecile live." She paused. "He wanted to be with her and not leave for Liren. I made him…"
"You did not make him."
"I did…"
"You did nothing of the kind." Madame Giry said fiercely. "He went of his own free will. His Majesty does as he pleases." The older woman smiled a bit. "Much like his queen."
"Madame?" Christine licked her dry lips. "She does not have a chance, does she?"
"The princess's body is much too weak." She sighed. "The doctors was amazed she has lived this long."
"Will you please see to her funeral arrangements?" Her throat tightened. "I would not want the king's list of things to do to be longer than necessary."
"Yes, Majesty." Madame gave a nod and left.
Christine walked towards her husband and daughter, coming to stand next to them to watch the same butterfly that they had been watching all this time. Erik turned to her giving a small smile, which she returned. Neither spoke, both knew hope was out of the question, now all there was, was to let go.
Reaching up, Christine brushed the girl's raven locks out of her face to see the paleness and spots underneath. The girl's eyes opened and looked at her, smiling.
"We should go to the beach, before the sunsets." Christine suggested quietly.
Erik just nodded and they made their way down to the beach. As they made their way to the place where they had become a family, Christine could see the tears forming in Erik's eyes. She could tell that the small amount of hope that he had yesterday was gone. The day spent with Cecile would probably be his last and hers.
She would have never even dreamed of this. Her falling in love with the man that she only sought out to tie up ends and return to her country, perhaps having a child or two. Nevertheless, she fell and fell for his daughter. The daughter that had asked to call her mother, the daughter that had shown her love, and the daughter that was now dying and there was nothing she could do.
When they arrived Erik handed Cecile over to Christine and laid his jacket on the sand. Easing himself down, he helped Christine settle between his legs and Cecile in her arms. He wrapped his arms around the two, and they all looked towards the setting sun. The waves of the water lapped gently on the sand and the calming effects added to the beautiful display of oranges, blues, purples, and reds. For now it was quiet, peaceful, even. They dreaded what tomorrow would bring and the hectic life of court would follow. Right now though, they were a family.
With a subtle kiss to her temple, Christine heard Erik whisper,
"Thank you."
-----------------
It had been the news they had been dreading. It was the news that could be the worst possible a parent could receive. All hope was gone and there was not a heart for it. Everything that had been blue, green, and red had turned to an ugly shade of gray. The world, as they knew it, had ended, and everything had changed.
A little life that had once depended on them was gone. A person that had once asked many questions about nothing was gone. It was all gone.
Christine had not disturbed Erik the moment he went into the music room, after they had left Cecile's room. She had held the girl in her arms, trying desperately not to weep, but tears had escaped her. There had been no use trying to communicate with the girl, because her vision was clouded with sickness, let alone hold up her hands to reply. Her breathing had become worse and the short rasps were hurtful and painful.
Erik had sat by his daughter's side in the moments with Christine, he had also held the little girl, but had Christine hold her up as he wiped the sweat and hair off the girl's brow. He had been destroyed in those last minutes. Although he knew it was coming, he had not accepted it. His daughter could not possibly die and now his grief was being played out in the music room.
Melodies of all different kinds flowed from the walls of the room as Christine sat in his room. She did not want to leave due to the fact that he could come out at any time and need her. Christine needed him too, but knew that she would put him first. Perhaps it was pity, since it was the child he rendered from his loins and not hers, but it was mostly guilt.
The music stopped and she looked up, from her spot from the window seat, waiting for him to come through the doorway. As the door slowly opened, it relieved her husband's extremely disheveled appearance. His usually slicked hair was around his face, his shirt was buttoned strangely and wrinkled, he wore no shoes or socks, and his mask was gone.
Slowly she stood, and walked over to him. She brushed a lock of hair from his face and licked her lips. Her intention was to say something, something meaningful, something that would help him, but she had nothing, absolutely nothing.
"She's gone." He whispered.
"I would say something, that I hope would make you feel better." She cleared her throat, to prevent the onslaught of tears. "But I fear that nothing could possibly do that."
"Tell me that you love me." His voice sounded so desperate, so painful.
"You know I do."
"Say it."
"I love you, Erik." She bit her lip, as tears began to fall.
Strong arms came around her waist, and she melted into his strong chest.
"I have been a bad husband." He kissed the top of her forehead. "I have not cared…"
"You are the last thing from a bad husband." Looking up at him, with tear stained eyes, she made her point. "You have cared for me, many times. It was my turn to care for you, and still is."
"I cannot believe she is gone." A sigh escaped him. "I thought that I would see her grow old, marry, have her own children. I thought that she would bury me, with a sad heart. Never did I think that I would bury her."
"Madame Giry will care for the funeral arrangements."
"She will do well." He nodded. "I do not have the heart for them."
"You could." Christine shrugged, calming down. "But I thought that it would be best to give you just a few more moments of solitude before facing the country."
"Thank you." Erik noticed her yawn. "We should try and get some rest."
"I will not be able to sleep." She sighed as they made their way towards the bed.
Christine removed her heavy dressed and put on her shift, while Erik just removed his shirt. They climbed into the monstrous bed and lay down. Christine shifted in Erik's arms and fell asleep.
--------
Christine felt cold, as she lay beneath the once warm sheets. She felt next to her and noticed her husband gone. Somber music filled her ears, so sad and so much longing. Then getting up, as if in a trance, she went towards the music room, where it was coming from.
Silently she pushed the door open to the dimly lit room, candles gently swayed, illuminating only a fourth of the room. Two, however shown the light on her husband's broad back, as he sat at the piano. His head down in a silent prayer above the piano, as his fingers struck the keys. He wore only his long pants and his shirt, which hung loosely around him. Tears silently came down his face, as the music took over him, pulling him further into the despair he was feeling.
Christine stood in the doorway yearning to will all the hurt and pain away. But the tears would not stop, nor the pain would subside, in time, but not now. As quietly as she could she approached him, and saw that he was not wearing his mask. With a steady hand, she reached out and softly stroked his flawed side. Her fingers ran down his damaged visage, lovingly.
His fingers never missed a beat, as her hand went lower and fell onto his bare chest. The lids of his eyes slid shut, with the warmth that emitted from her small hand. Her other hand came to the unblemished side of his face, adoring that side as much. Carefully she made her way around and slipped herself between him and the piano, sitting between his legs. The music kept going.
Her hands started to fill in the missing parts of the song as one of his felt its way up her arm, leaving goosebumps in its tracks. It trailed to her neck, in which she allowed more access to, before it went down her back. Making its way to the front and landing on her upper inner thigh. She let her other hand move down his other arm that was still playing the beautiful music on the instrument, and replaced it. He let the other hand move to her neck and down to meet the other one as his lips caress her neck.
She reached back and stroked the nape of his neck, while he replaced the missing notes. Letting out a gasp as he nipped at her neck and his hand crept closer to her center. Turning her head more she capture his mouth his hers. His need was becoming apparent. She let him take over the song as she turned and placed her legs on either side of his waist, straddling him.
The flesh of her hands met the flesh of his broad chest. When they ache for more of his flesh, she slowly pushed the loosely put shirt off of him. She gripped on to him as he traced her jaw line with his mouth, and her face lifted towards the ceiling of the room, looking at the images on there. Her eyes closed, shutting out the images of Hell, when the song finally ended and his hands moved to her hip, splayed his, long, large fingers across the lower half of her body.
He slowly moved his hands upward and slid the robe off her and started to untie the already loose shift. Becoming frustrated with the ties he simply ripped the shift and threw it to the ground.
Christine smiled when she felt his need through the fabric of his pants. His moaned awakened even more of her desires as she grinded into the apparent need of his pants. Then she traced him taunt stomach, down to the buttons of his pants. Getting up she gently pulled off the pants and gave herself a second to look at her husband and appreciate. Finally she approached him and lowered herself on to him.
The air rushed out of their lungs, when they joined. After they regained their senses they began to find a new rhythm. A rhythm that was filled with so much more besides pain and suffering, it was the rhythm that made their spirits soar.
They barely made noise, only a soft moan and sigh. But it was their music of the night that had awakened them and lead them to that point. As they finally took their last pleasure, they held onto each other as if it was their last night.
Their bodies were slick with sweat and both tired to catch their breath. They leaned their foreheads against the other and stayed there for a moment. Then Christine placed her head on Erik's chest and listened to his steady heartbeat. He put his head on top of her curls. After a while, she lifted her head and gave him a tender kiss. She searched his eyes and noticed the tears had come back, forming at the edges of his eyes. He lowered his head to her chest and wept. His arms encircled her and held on tight. Hers tears came silently as he wept.
When he stopped her scooped her up and lay her in the bed, lying beside her. She turned towards him and scooted closer to him, laying her head on his chest, as her arms lay across his stomach, and their legs entwined. As she began to drift off to sleep she felt his arm pull her closer and his lips touched her head, as he whispered,
"I love you."
A girl, a single girl, lay on a bed. Her breathes coming out quietly, slowly. The color of her flesh was becoming paler as her heartbeat began to slowly fade.
A candle sat next to the lone girl's bedside. Its flame flickered, making shadows of the woman, who sat next to the girl's bed dance on the wall.
The woman could no longer watch the girl as her breathing began to slow, and the rise and fall of her usually steady chest slowed. She knew it would stop soon enough, she knew that she did not want the parents of the girl to be there, she knew that she would spare them the heartache she had to go through as she watched her own child die in her arms. But her wish was not to be granted.
A pair of footsteps came behind the woman and a single, strong hand came down upon her shoulder, her position at the girl's side was relieved. The woman did not budge, but the parents of the girl understood. Instead they took a side and slipped into the girl's cold bed, lying next to her. The girl's father pulled her and the mother into his arms and sat there. The woman that had been watching the girl sat on the bed and held the girl's small, cold hand.
As the father lay there, he could feel the heartbeat begin to fade, slowly. He watched the girl's face in the flickering candlelight, to see if there was any pain, her face was still, and he was glade that there had been that small mercy. The mother, had no tears left, she did not think that her husband did either, but she knew that there would be tears in the future, just not now. She lay there feeling her husband's warmth and her daughter's frigidness.
The breaths were fading now. It was slowly agonizing, the girl's death. The heartbeat was too slow now, too faint. The three caretakers of the girl waited, she took her last breath and the beats of her heart stopped.
The candlelight died.
