A/N: This story begins directly – or nearly directly – after Erik and Arabella's wedding chapter in "Miri Kom". It's been a few years since I finished that one, so forgive any accidental retconning of everything before the wedding chapter. To be fair … I do intend to change characteristics a little, as I've grown as a writer and genuinely want these two to behave more their own age sometimes!

Warning for all chapters: very adult, dark content incoming. Including discussions (or actions) of SA, abuse, coercion, self harm and suicidal ideation. Other warnings to be included as they pop up.

Chapter One

The Sauveterre's

Erik woke to the sounds of soft, even breathing. For a moment he was lost in the past, the warmth soaking through his blankets reminding him of how his dearest pet used to curl up in his bed with him as a child; keeping him warm in that dreaded attic bedroom. Instinctively he reached out, hoping in the moment of nostalgia to curl his fingers into the coarse aged hair of his sweetest corgi. The only creature on Earth to ever give him true affection.

Instead of a pelt, Erik was befuddled to find more blanket on top of a rather sturdy and smooth body part.

His eyes opened blearily, lifting his hand away from the foreign sensation. There wasn't a great deal of light piercing the veil of his tent yet. It was still early enough where the morning sun was trying to breath through a forest before getting to him in his cot. Still, there was just enough light to realize the lump at his side was quite human sized.

It all returned to him in a rush, and he swiftly put his arm across his body to avoid touching Arabella further. Especially in such a delicately intimate area as her thigh. He was embarrassed to have accidentally touched her in any way at all, but his immediate recoil was out of fear that she was awake and repulsed or frightened by his purely accidental advance.

His thoughts finally stopped tumbling for a moment as his golden eyes turned towards the head of dark hair at his side. Arabella had rolled into the crack between their cots overnight, but he'd luckily placed them tightly together enough where she was at no risk of slipping through. Her blanket hugged her like a bug cocoon, leaving only her head visible. She was facing away from him, and curled into a fetal position to stave off the morning chill.

For a moment the world seemed to hold completely and silently still as realization fell on him like the weight of an anvil.

He was married … he had a wife … and a child on the way.

What had he done?

Regret had nothing to do with these thoughts. His newfound horror was the realization that he – at perhaps only fourteen or fifteen years old – was a married man with an expectant family. And he wasn't even certain of his age! As he had always been so good at doing, Erik had blocked all memories of his birth date from his mind. Locked the knowledge and memories away like a dangerous, rabid animal that only occasionally rattled at its bars. He'd forced himself to lose track of all awareness of time for so long he could probably be twenty and not even realize it – although that was highly unlikely.

He'd locked that knowledge away just as he had just out any knowledge of his rightful identity beyond his given first name. It had been a bit of a lie to tell Arabella had had no name prior to their wedding night. After all, he was presumably the son of a married couple – although he'd seen no definitive proof of that growing up. But he had spent so many hours in his fathers' library that it had been impossible not to come across old paperwork with his signature, or seen his name written neatly inside the cover of a book to mark it as property. His mother had spoken of his father, normally to her friend when she didn't know Erik was listening, in such a way that led him to believe he was at least a legitimate child. But he'd never associated that name with himself. His mother had never once spoken it. There were no papers in the world that even identified him as a nameless being. No baptism papers. No first communion. No birth certificate.

To all intents and purposes, he had no identity.

And now that he had run away, he was absolutely certain it was the one link that could identify him if he used it. The one thing that could bring news of him back to his dreadful, hateful mother. And bring her horror and shame. One of the few things he still didn't want to force upon her, in spite of all his confused loving hatred of her.

A sick feeling filled his gut as he thought about his mother. She would be mortified if she knew where he was. What he was doing to earn his livelihood. That he was married to a nomadic girl and was claiming her incestuous bastard as his own. Any one of those things would be more than enough to likely give her a stroke! He couldn't even begin to imagine the tirade she would have whilst beating him nearly to a pulp for embarrassing her like that. For being so foolish and naive and wicked...

Sighing, Erik rubbed one hand down his face.

How had he pretended for so long to be a man? To pretend Arabella was a full-grown woman, when even he knew that she wouldn't be considered of marrying age in his society. Even her own society probably secretly balked at her marrying a creature so much more monster than man from outside their society. If it hadn't of been for their leader, and his understanding of Arabella's condition … this never would have been permitted! No doubt it was why Tsifia – Arabella's grandmother - had pushed him so hard through all the trials to earn his status as a friend to their kind. And his bride. The old woman had wanted her granddaughters' reputation protected. The only way to keep it even remotely safae had been to let her take the much looked upon action of marrying an outsider. An outsider many I the group superstitiously thought of as a demon because of his freakish deformity.

Groaning, Erik sat up and stretched his long stick-like legs over the ground before climbing carefully and almost clumsily to his feet.

Arabella murmured a soft, sleepy protest, and shifted in her sleep. Erik quickly picked up his own discarded blanket to drape it over her body. The last thing he wanted was to wake her, or see her get cold. Her body had been fighting an infection since the day of his proposal. Some days were better than others. On two occasions, her wound had been lacerated to drain it of pus, and downed in chamomile tincture mixed with pure alcohol. It had been a very painful experience for her, and Erik honestly didn't even know if it did any good, or potentially just made matters worse.

What was he doing? He asked himself again, as his eyes took in the room around him. Arabella had come to him with next to nothing but some clothes and the biggest heart he'd ever known. There was no major sign of her being a part of his life yet, other than the second cot and a pile of her performance dresses and daily clothes. Unlike him, she had no materialistic hobbies, so the tent was taken up mostly by a small camping stove so he could easily make tea, several stolen books, and all the accouterments required for his daily performances as a magician and musician. He had three different costumes for these performances, and masks to go with them, a box of all he needed for his simple sleight-of-hand tricks, and multiple stolen or cheaply bought books. Leaning against the box was his violin and recorder – both of which had been gifts from Arabella. Othere than that, there was just a hanging piece of material to provide privacy for a changing space, and a tiny table with bowl and ewer for washing up.

He glanced at her once more, feeling guilty that she had so little of her own. That he had so little to give her.

He wouldn't regret for a single moment loving her. Would never think twice about protecting her reputation or embracing her child as his own. But, in spite of all his pretenses, he was a boy! Surviving solely through the good graces of his wife's people. Allowed to share their meals, to help their community.

To earn his keep by degrading himself by unmasking before the masses day after day.

In spite of his own ego over his skills as a musician and magician, and the impressive income he brought in for the group, he still detested having to do that constantly. He feared every single day being thrown again into a cage. Tied to the bars to be forced to reveal his face and nothing else of who he truly was. Terrified of being a whipped dog once again. Terrified, now, that if he lost his place in this group he would lose Arabella. That he'd be unable to protect her as he'd almost failed to protect her before. Not so much from her father as .. that other one...

He'd been going and going ever since that day. Worrying about Arabella. Being flummoxed by his ever-growing independence within the tribe. Thrown completely off his feet by the beautiful smile and gentle kindness of the girl who claimed to love him – him, of all people! Trying to make certain he could make or steal enough money to keep them not only alive, but entertained. Especially himself, since it was so easy for him to become bored of the same routine day in and day out.

The wedding seemed to be an end to all that frenzy. And now he stood in his tent, a painfully young bride at his side … and he was honestly just a boy who thought he'd never find love at all. Never mind a woman who would bear a child for him – even if it was not his own – when most boys his age were still in school and under their fathers' rule. Most men he knew of didn't marry until their thirties or older! When they'd come into their majority, had built up enough money to care for a family, and had honest reputations!

What was he; a boy, magician, and freak, doing married?

How was he going to shoulder that? How could he sustain this for his entire life?

He wanted to. He would do his best and never give up until the day Arabella demanded her freedom – which surely she would! A beautiful and generously giving girl like her would not want to be saddled with an ugly monster like him her entire life! Surely some wealthier, stronger, beautiful man would lure her away someday.

He shook his head until he became dizzy, hating how his mind kept cycling in and out of all this torment. He wished he could just go back to reveling in the fact that any person alive loved him at all. Wanted to be with him. Hell, claimed to want him in time – in the married way. Couldn't he go back to simply enjoying what he had?

Not if he wanted both of them – and the baby – to survive. He told himself stubbornly, changing into a clean pair of socks and hiding behind the hanging sheet to do the same with the rest of his clothes.

He was glad for the cool of the morning. It kept his often badly misbehaving body under control when he briefly considered their conversation from the night before.. He wished it didn't have such a senseless mind of its' own. Erik hadn't been educated about the maturing that would happen to his body. Almost like young girls, he was mostly senseless to what was happening to him. Woefully under-educated for a young man in that regard. All he knew was the annoying way he felt, and when, and how to tend to the problem. His embarrassment over it was entirely instinctual when it misbehaved. What he did know of the human – particularly male – body had been learned through a sexless Catholic education given by an even more ignorant woman. Now that he was with Arabella's people, he had a better understanding of all that … but not nearly enough. All he knew was that they behaved in a way he felt – from countless times being forced to read the bible – was likely 'lustful' and 'sinful'. Or at least inappropriate.

Erik forced himself to pull his wandering thoughts together. He couldn't afford to be so distracted all the time! One night lying in the same area as her, and he was falling apart!

He was just buttoning his shirt when a soft mewling noise came from the cots. He heard the leather braces beneath the mattress creak in objection as Arabella rolled over and yawned.

There was a tense pause. The sound of movement. He wondered if she were just as bewildered to wake up in his tent as he'd been to have her there.

"E-Erik?"

Taking in a silent breath, Erik squared his shoulders. He forced an air of confidence and peace he did not quite feel as he stepped out into her view. She was on her back, her hands resting on either side of her head; as though they'd fallen their after wiping at her eyes. She'd clearly been stretching quite massively. Her dark hair lie in a cloud around her, and she smiled tiredly in relief when she saw him.

"Right here, ma belle. Did you sleep well?" he asked, moving to stand by the foot of the bed.

"Yes!" She sounded surprised as she yawned and stretched again, letting out another of those almost kittenish sounds. He found his head tilting in bemusement at this. He couldn't quite help but watch how her body moved beneath the rumpled blankets. It was intriguing. Nothing more. "You?"

"Much better than I ever have before. I think I have you to thank for that."

Scoffing, she pushed herself up into a sitting position and then rolled sideways, so that her upper torso leaned down towards the ground. Erik was surprised at this strange way of stretching out her back, and had moved to steady her before realizing what she was up to.

He was tense when she sat up again, but tried to hide it by folding his arms across his chest.

"I was about to start some coffee and breakfast." he told her. "Do you want to stay in bed a while? I can bring it to you. And then you grandmother can see how your injury is doing."

Arabella stood and started rooting around for a robe.

"I'll come out with you." she decided. "And you can check it. She won't always be able to. Might as well get comfortable with that now."
Erik almost flinched. Tsifia must have already told Arabella she must now count on her husband taking care of her. Would he be able to? Could he bring himself to look at her bare skin even if it was just to help her heal? Could she stand it if he needed to touch her? Could she stand being touched? Because of his upbringing, the thought of touching anything other than her face or hands seemed far too intimate!

"I would like it if you would rest." he admitted, stepping in her way before she could step outside. "And … you should get dressed before you step outside. ...Please?"

It was embarrassing to admit his insecurity. His honest jealousy and need to shield her from the eyes of other men. But he was speaking as gently as he could. All he could think about when she was dressed this way was how Adnah had followed her to the river that one day, and come upon her bathing on purpose. Being a night dress and robe really was not much better protection against prying eyes and mean hands. Adnah had tried to take advantage of her. And, however unlikely, he was terrified others would see her only partially dressed and have similar ideas.

Arabella hesitated. He saw the heat flash through her eyes that he would try and tell her what to wear. But she took her time responding, the heat fading away into a soft and sad understanding. He wondered if she was recalling the same day, and how she'd been afraid to go into the woods alone after that. Smiling uncertainly, she nodded.

"I'll change." she offered. "But I can rest just as easily by a campfire as I can in here. I can't bring myself to lie on a cot all morning."

Sighing, Erik reached for a mask and slipped it onto his face.

"Thank you." he breathed, not certain she would hear him properly. "I'll make the coffee first. My mind is barely working right now."

It was only when he'd settled the mask firmly into place that he realized how long she'd been looking at him without it. His ears burned hotly as his shoulders hunched and he stepped outside. On the day he had proposed to Arabella and she had accepted, he had been unmasked. They had spoken of how much she liked to see him. To be trusted enough to be permitted to see his face. Yet he hadn't stood around her unmasked on purpose since that day. How had he so easily forgotten he was unmasked until stepping outside? Was it just because he'd been in his own little place of security, where no one ever entered or bothered him? Or was it that one conversation? That one day?

He was pouring the coffee when Arabella stepped outside in a simple brown and crème colored dress.

"I don't have any sugar today." he admitted with a sour face. "Or even goats' milk … God … I have spent so much time planning for yesterday, I didn't even think about what came after!"

Arabella chuckled, reaching out to take one of his offered cups, but letting their hands linger together.

"It's all right." she promised. "I can handle a bit of bitter coffee. We'll go into town later and get some sugar. Or I can go while you're performing. I'm still not well enough to dance again for a crowd. Yesterday was a mild mistake. I'm a little sore today-"

"-You hurt yourself?" Erik felt his heart leap up into his throat.

"No." she stated instantly, almost sharply. "Not hurt, Erik. Just over-exerted. I'll be fine. I'm just going to rest for a few more days. Maybe help my grandmother with her work. Or do little chores for you to make the day easier."
He hunkered down close to the fire, staring into the short flames that were already dying out because he hadn't prepared enough wood for it.

"This town isn't as friendly to your people-"

"-our people." she interrupted. "They are yours now, too, Erik."

He shook his head, but didn't argue. They permitted him to live among them. Particularly because he brought in such a fine sum of money every day. Some of it through dishonest means but … still. But that didn't mean he would ever be accepted as one of them. He simply didn't have the right blood in his veins.

"The townsfolk doesn't like us here." he continued. "They were curious for a few days. And the wedding yesterday probably fascinated them. A comparatively heathen experience for the fine upstanding Catholic hypocrites. But … they won't want us in their town. I already tried going in three days ago. No one would serve me. I was practically chased out. And I was too preoccupied with preparing for the wedding to go in at night."

He paused, waiting for her to berate him for sneaking into town at night and burglarizing some poor merchant or household. It wasn't that her people were too good for such activities, but Arabella herself was usually too moral to stand for such things. When no reprimand came, he eyed her more speculatively. She recoiled at even the mere suggestion of violence, and didn't like her grandmother trying to teach her how to fleece customers with false fortunes and fake tonics... but she didn't seem to be bothered by the thought of him picking pockets or doing burglary.

Maybe that, at least, was more honest a way to get what you wanted than lying?

"I'll go tonight." he stated. "I have to get ready to perform now. What about you? What will you do for the day? If you can't dance ..."

It was strange that he hadn't thought of what she did with her day. Part of him had assumed she did just lie in bed all day trying to get better, in spite of having seen her around the camp most days. Watching him perform from a distance, or carrying things from one place to another.

"I'll help my grandmother with her chores." Arabella shrugged, using only one shoulder as was her habit. "If you have anything that needs mending, I can take care of that today. Sewing isn't very heavy work."

He smirked.

"I don't think my costumes need mending yet. They're all quite new."

"What about your other clothes?"

Erik hesitated, balking at the mere thought of Arabella handling his clothes. It came out of nowhere, this intense discomfort. But he knew the only things he owned that needed mending were his under garments!

"If … if you're comfortable with that." he offered uneasily. "You can probably find anything that has holes. I don't have that many clothes."

"Neiter do I." she reminded him. "All right. So I'll patch up holes this afternoon. Maybe I'll come by the performances and watch."

So, for the first time, Erik found himself kissing his wife's hand goodbye, and collecting his things to head 'off to work'.