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The firelight reflected in Christine’s green eyes as she stared at herself in the vanity. It had been a tough year, to say the least. Kidnapped, married, and now expecting a baby of her own, all without the man she had expected to be the father of her children; Raoul.
In all honesty, it the most surprising thing was that she and Erik were able to conceive in the first place. His good side was indeed rather handsome, yes; and he not a cruel man in the slightest, but he was almost pitifully thin, and older, and while well endowed, and blissfully commanding in the bedroom, it had taken a while for them to find their footing: in fact, in the beginning it was almost painfully awkward.
However, within a few months those moments had lessened, and there were always other methods they could use to help her achieve her release.
They had found out about the existence of the child growing within her earlier that day. She had not suspected a thing beforehand. Yes, she might’ve had a few dizzy spells, but she had attributed that to the lack of sunlight, and yes, it was clear she had put on a bit of weight, but she had assumed that was because she was finally eating a regular diet and not just whatever they could put together for the opera dancers.
That morning Christine’s cheeks had flushed with heat, her body shaking with cold; but naturally, that could’ve been due to the damp streets outside their underground home.
A baby was a most unexpected thing, but something that she had slowly welcomed. No matter how strange her life was, she at least had some sense of normality, something she had always longed for so close in her future. She only hoped her child would be able to live a relatively normal life, regardless of his or her parents wicked past.
Erik would’ve given her anything she would’ve asked of him, Christine knew that, but Christine doubted he would’ve granted her children willingly. When she had fainted earlier that day, he hadn’t known what to do with himself, bless his soul. Frantic, he had sent for Nadir. When the man had arrived to a Christine who was weak and silent in bed, her usually healthy complexion turned sickly and a frail body lying in place of her usually robust one, he had worked double time, eyeing Erik fearfully every few minutes.
If it was not a positive outcome for Mrs Destler, one person in there would be the one to face Erik’s wrath, and it certainly would not be Christine. Erik clearly adored her too much to bring any harm to the girl; however, the same could not be said for Nadir. Despite being his closest confidant, nothing mattered more to Erik than Christine’s health and happiness.
It was then that he’d discovered Christine was with child. Erik had glanced between Christine and her visibly rounded stomach, paled, and practically sprinted off to his organ. Christine, through her tears, had wordlessly accepted Nadir’s list of teas to ease her poor stomach, and he had offered her his whispered congratulations.
They hadn’t spoken properly since then, but when Erik had returned he had silently prepared her dinner, placing a glass of red wine in front of her, as well as the tea that Nadir had suggested; Christine hadn’t realised Erik had even seen the list, and could only assume Nadir must’ve visited him before he’d left.
Erik had also been even more attentive that usual, guiding her places by the arm and plumping up the pillows of her chair.
“I can manage perfectly fine, Erik.” She had smiled softly at him, squeezing his hand. His face remained solemn as he settled her down in front of the fire. The second she was seated he’d busied himself tucking blankets around her - accidentally brushing her bump.
To Christine’s surprise, he’d stumbled back as though burnt, gazing down at his hands in horror.
“Is Erik’s Christine… well?” He’d asked slowly after a while, staring intently into her eyes.
“I feel quite nauseous most of the time, even though according to most of the dancers it’s meant to stop after the first few months. According to Nadir I’m in my fourth.” She sighed.
“Honestly Erik, it’s bad enough that I didn’t notice how big I was getting, but how could you not? I mean, I certainly didn’t look this way when we first married.” She giggled, one hand rubbing her stomach, the other brushing an auburn curl out of her eyes.
“Erik believes Christine always looks beautiful.” He’d smiled sincerely, the fire reflected in his mask. Despite their many months being married and her near constant reassurance, Erik mostly kept his mask on. Unbeknownst to Christine, her husband was still plagued night after night by her first horrified reaction to his natural face.
“But you must’ve noticed, be sincere, Erik.” She huffed, popping her heels up on the ottoman.
“Erik is being sincere. Erik was pleased Christine was enjoying his food and good company. Christine is doing very well at the Opera, too, and for that I am most pleased.” He grinned sweetly at her, momentarily distracting himself from his horror at touching the bump.
He wasn’t necessarily displeased about the baby, but he couldn’t say he was excited either. She was beautiful and kind and a truly good woman, but that couldn’t change their very recent past.
Erik was disgusted at his behaviour. He had manipulated her most grievously, had taken her away from the man she cared for dearly… but Erik had never felt this way about a woman before, had never been able to hold one’s attention (even if it was only through the eyes of a religious gaze, at first) and it was such a wonderful feeling that he became unwilling to let it go.
Let her go.
She had sacrificed herself for Raoul, the man she had loved. According to the papers, he had already found another woman, Sylvia Devereaux, and they were recently engaged, to be married in the following Spring. The day Christine found out, she hadn’t left her bedroom for many days afterwards, barely touching her food.
In the nights that followed she had slowly begun creeping into Erik’s room, shuffling awkwardly into his bed. It hadn’t been sexual, not at first. She had simply wished for company to soothe her broken heart. After all, he was still her angel.
But he was a gentle man, and since she had moved in with him Erik had been impossibly sweet to Christine. So, soon enough their relationship had gained a physical aspect, and eventually she had moved into his room.
And now they were in their current position, with their baby on the way.
Knowing she wouldn’t be able to push him further on the topic, Christine slowly rose from the rocking chair and went to prepare for bed, Erik trailing behind her in earnest.
Bless him, Erik had fallen asleep the second his head hit the pillow, mask-free. Christine giggled to herself at the image of her husband sprawling out lazily half on top of the covers, one hand reached out for his Christine even so. Once Christine had changed out of her loose lavender gown, she took a second to appreciate the way her growing stomach looked underneath her nightgown.
“Oh, you have taken me by surprise, child… but I am rather growing to like you. I mean, you could’ve waited a while longer, but I am pleased even so. Your father’s not the man I expected he would be, but I do love him so. I’m not afraid of him anymore, and neither shall you be.” She whispered pointedly in the mirror, fingers lightly trailing over her stomach.
In the dim candlelight she could make out her features, only now noticing how horrid she appeared. Dark circles under her eyes, sallow skin that appeared oily, and yet, dry. Oh, god! And her cheeks, they looked terribly puffy. Christine looked an awful state. It was a wonder Erik put up with her. She felt like she could cry. Would, cry.
Unbeknownst to her, Erik was not sleeping. He had tried to, but failed. All that kept swirling in his mind was the thought of the day when Christine would birth their beautiful baby, and it would arrive looking just as monstrous as he did. Well, perhaps they would be saved some of his wickedness by their angelic mother, but Erik had his doubts.
It was true that none of his known family bore his affliction, his mother had a transfixing beauty, though her personality was just as vile as her son’s face. His father was indeed handsome, and unlike his wife was good to their son. However, as fate would have it, he’d passed shortly after his fourth birthday. The few good memories he possessed of his childhood were made with him, although they were mainly masked by his mother’s pettiness and violence.
None of his siblings possessed his deformity either, which naturally meant his arrival was most unexpected. As his mother had frequently pointed out in his early youth, the priest had wanted to drown him in the well. She would’ve agreed to it, too, had it not been for his father’s opposition.
Now, with the prospect of fatherhood looming ahead of him, he couldn’t picture wanting to hurt an innocent babe - let alone one of his own!
It made him despise his mother even more so.
He had cursed his poor Christine with bearing a diseased infant, and yet he knew she would still love them. As would he.
Erik was still afraid to touch his Christine’ stomach (of any part of her, really) that day - in spite of her gentle encouragement - sure that if he made any sort of contact with his little wife, the curse would most certainly pass along to their terrifying offspring.
She was so very beautiful, his Christine. Erik watched, eyes still half closed, as she examined herself.
Until he properly listened to the words she was saying, and then he wanted to be sick. “I do love him so. I’m not afraid of him anymore.” In particular that swam in his head. His Christine loved him? Could this be true? He knew she had grown to care about him as much as he did her, that they had lain together as husband and wife… but, love?
No, no, no. His Christine had been afraid of him? How could she doubt his love for her? A true man would never hurt the woman he adored… He thought he had shown her nothing but respect and understanding since her arrival at his home. But alas, who could ever learn to love a beast?
“Chris- Christine was afraid of her Erik?” Shamefully, his voice wobbled, barely audible, although it cut through them both like a knife.
“Erik! I thought you were asleep-” Christine jumped, and Erik swore to himself. She whipped her body round to face him, eyes horrified at what she had said.
“You did not answer Erik’s question.” He cut through her words harshly, a lump rapidly growing in his throat.
“I did, yes, once… but I love you now. More than anything, well, except for…” She whimpered, trying to rush into his arms for comfort as she usually did. Erik, for the first time, turned away from her.
“Raoul? I knew it. You love him still. How could I ev-“
“My baby. The only person I love more than you is my baby. Our baby.” She tried to turn him over so that he could place his hands on her, praying that may bridge a connection between him and their unborn babe. He hadn’t touched her properly since they’re found out, since he had carried her to their room after fainting dead away. She had noticed, and unfortunately come to the wrong conclusion.
“Erik, you find me disgusting now, I can see so, but think of th- the child.” Christine sat back on her heels, and after a while Erik did turn around, an incredulous look on his face. When he saw her drying her eyes on her nightgown sleeve, a part of his heart began withering away.
Much to her surprise, he reached forward and took her strongly by the shoulders. “Christine, don’t you ever say such things about yourself again. You are the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on. You are the diamond in my dull world.” He told her sternly, gazing into her eyes. Hesitantly, he placed his hand over her flushed cheek, brushing his fingers against her prominent cheekbones.
“This is the first time you have held me since this morning.” Her tears spilled over again, trying to lean into his touch.
“I regret everything that I have done to hurt you.” Erik interrupted, his tone low but fierce. “But not you. Never you. Not-” His voice cracked, squeezing his yellow eyes shut. “Not our child, Christine. Please, please, never believe your Erik thinks such harsh things, about his angel or their infant.”
Christine blinked rapidly, her tears now mingling with a tiny, almost incredulous smile. “You do not regret…?”
Erik’s eyes flickered, the mask catching the firelight on his bedside table.“I regret that you were ever afraid of me. I regret that you were forced to choose me instead of the freedom a young woman as yourself deserves. I regret that I lied to you and tried to kill that blasted Vicomte.” The words came out halting, like stones dropped into still water, but he forced himself to continue. “I regret being a monster to you when all I wanted was to be a man. A man you could learn to love.”
Christine’s heart clenched. She hadn’t expected him to say it out loud, so directly. Erik so rarely spoke of Raoul or that night at all - not where he could help it - but the rawness of his confession made her throat ache. She slipped closer, until she was kneeling between his knees, her bump brushing against him.
“You were desperate,” she said quietly. “And I was frightened. I cannot pretend to entirely understand how my doting husband could ever be that same man, but Erik; we both… we both were not ourselves.” She reached up, daring to touch the worst side of his face, tracing the lines of his scarred flesh with trembling fingers. “But you have not been cruel to me since. You’ve been gentle, Erik. Patient. More patient than anyone I have ever known. I love you ever the more for it. There’s no one else I’d rather have for the father of my baby, not even Raoul. I just hope they have your eyes.” Christine admitted quietly, pressing a kiss to the palm of his hand. He wanted to retreat away - his angels deserved far better than to be coming into contact with him - particularly the smallest one, as it was not their choice to do so - but he couldn’t bare to do so, especially when Christine so clearly needed his affection.
His breath came out as small, uneven gasps, his hand that had rested on her cheek now sliding firmly down, finally, to rest at the prominent curve of her belly. Christine gasped at the contact but didn’t move away. In fact, she leant into it.
“I fear touching you. Touching them. ” The older man admitted, almost inaudibly. “I fear I have cursed you and cursed this child. That my wickedness will flow through my hands and into their veins like poison.” He let out a strangled sob, coming to rest his head down on hers.
Christine’s hands covered his where they lay on her stomach. “Then let us break this curse together,” She insisted, green eyes burning with the fiercest determination. “By loving them. By loving each other, even if it frightens us.”
Erik stared at her, stunned, his lips parting as if to speak but no sound coming out. For a long moment, he simply looked at her, at her earnestness, at the glow of candlelight across her weary but beautiful face.
Finally, his lips dropped to hers, a shuddering breath leaving him. “You are not afraid?” He said after breaking their chaste kiss.
“Not anymore,” she murmured, closing her eyes. “And you shouldn’t be either.”
“Christine Destler, I’ll love you till the day I die.” He told her reverently, knowing for the first time it was truly reciprocated.
When their daughter was born on a bright spring morning in 1886, Erik was most pleased to find his little Mary was mercifully blessed with a fully formed face, rosy cheeks and all.
Everything would be fine from now on, especially as the child did not seem to be afraid of him as Erik believed she might be, only mildly fascinated at best. He had to smile as he looked at the sleeping form of his exhausted wife, for he knew his darling would be overjoyed that they had a daughter, just as he was.
She would be even more so in the months that followed, as Mary had indeed inherited her Erik’s eyes. Her one wish in the entire world. Their second child would too, but nothing could compare to the joy Erik had felt at seeing Mary’s true eyes for the first time.