Okay, so. Prepare for a long author's note explaining stuff.

O Desperado Sweetie O posed some valid questions on the story, and since they are (Sadly.) not going to be explained in the story. I thought I might as well answer them here.

Firstly: On the pregnancy reveal chapter- "It is the middle of winter and she is playing in the ocean for 2 hours. She would have gotten hypothermia in a matter of minutes, unless she was born and raised in the water."

Valid questions. However, it is no longer in the dead of winter. Christine and Erik were married in mid-January, and three- *goes back and checks the chapter* yeah, three months since their marriage. So it is now Mid-March. France generally has very mild winters and cool summers. So i assumed it would be more plausible.

Though that might had been different 800 years ago, weather patterns slightly different... maybe... Oh no no no no. I love researching and learning about history, and I always try to make my stories historically accurate, but I am not THAT dedicated. Let's just say that the weather is generally the same as it is now.

So yeah. it's march, and according to google the temperatures would be aboooouut 41-52 F. So cold. And research on google says that you can get hypothermia at 50 degrees. Herm.

Okay, so the way I'm justifying it is that it was a particularity warm and sunny day. (Say 55-60 F) Plus, Christine was born in Northern Sweden, where in the winter temperatures can reach -40 F. I grew up in a place were the winters were pretty cold. Usually 10 F or so. I later moved to a warmer area and to this day, what other people consider freezing is just eh to me. I guess something similar is happening here.

Though I will admit Erik probably should have had a fire going for her to warm up next to, and maybe I shouldn't have had her play in it for so long. Stuff to be fixed in the next draft. Thanks for pointing it out!

Next Question: On the make up chapter- "Why did he (Erik) refer to himself in the 3rd person?"

This is a reference to the original novel, which I have read the English translation of. Erik pretty much speaks in third person 24/7 (Possibly to show that he doesn't really know how to talk properly, since he's never been around people. But probably to make him sound more crazy.) and is one of the many (OH SO MANY reasons.) reasons Christine is so creeped out by him. I like to include this as a reference to the original novel.

However, as all of my stories are'what if''s, (As in 'what if Erik was more mentally stable'.), he has since learned to speak in first person (As he grew older and spent more time around people.), but tends to slip into it when he's under a lot of emotional stress. (Like he was in that chapter.)

Hopefully this clears up any confusion!

It had always been a secret pride of Christine that her waist was thin and trim. How much of her pride depended on this she did not know until her stomach swelled to the size of a ball. It was almost alarming how quickly she grew after the first four months. She was reminded of the time around fourteen, when she had grown four inches in three months, and suddenly her dress felt tight in uncomfortable places.

The same happened now. It was lucky the dressmakers had figured on her pregnancy, several of her under dresses had to be extended, her over dresses were loose enough to not require extension. Even her night robe, which Christine had always thought very large on her, barely went over her stomach.

One night, seven months in to the pregnancy, her hands tugged the edges in an attempt to gain some of the original fit back as she snuck across the hallway to take breakfast in Erik's room. She gave a might pull, before she knocked as quietly as she could as she waited for it to open

Erik appeared, his new clever mask on his face. Just behind him, Christine saw the breakfast tray was inside, the oatmeal still steaming. A quick kiss, now allowed by the new mask, and he let her inside.

Slowly Christine climbed into bed, Erik brought the tray and then they ate together. They chatted of what had happened the day before, what they planned to do that day, whatever came into their heads. Throughout it all Christine tugged at her robe, her hands smoothing it down as much as possible.

Erik didn't eat much, he never did. A few bites of porridge one morning, a piece of toast another, maybe accompanied by a few slices of an apple. No matter how Christine coaxed and scolded he simply kissed her forehead and smiled, saying. "I do not need as much food as my little wife and child."

She liked his new mask, that it allowed her to see him smile, liked that now she could guess easier at his emotions now that his mouth twitched this way and that. She did not like seeing the tray half empty when it was eventually taken away, though she had eaten as much as she hold at Erik's insistence.

After the tray was gone, Christine and Erik sat together on their beds, simply enjoying each other's company. Erik's hand settled on her stomach. Her head settled on his neck. For a few minutes they had peace. Then Erik stirred, murmuring that he must get on with the day. Before Christine would go back across the hall to be dressed, Erik kissed her. Not just a quick chaste kiss, but a long kiss that left Christine smiling and rosy, and Erik a bit dazed.

Then Christine floated back across the hallway to be dressed, feeling like the most beautiful woman in the world.

Christine knew little about sword fighting, but it was easy for even her to tell that her husband was very skilled. It was easy for anyone, watching him fight his way across a mock battlefield, carving a path behind him.

The Duke of the Black lands was vigorous about keeping his knights and men well trained. Daily practice was not only encouraged but required. Every day, for at least a few hours each afternoon, you could expect to see the castle's men clashing out in the courtyard before retreating into the bath houses to warm themselves.

However, during the summer, The Duke regularly set up tournaments that anyone, not just his knights could join. They were grand affairs, lasting from three days, full of prizes, honor, and injuries.

The summer was peppered with them, time was measured by how long it had been from the last fair, and how long until the next. The days had slipped by in a whirl of celebration and gaiety. And kisses, for Christine, at least.

However, autumn came, as did harvest. For weeks, the serfs worked in the fields, reaping in springs work. Erik traveled around his land, leaving Christine behind again, managing during the busy fall. Finally, after weeks of work filling barns and cellars, everyone was ready for a bit of fun.

After Erik hosted the largest tournament of the year, lasting a full week. This was, as Christine was told, the grandest affair of the year. The surrounding Barons, Earls and Lords came to compete, watch and socialize.

Their wives came too.

There were four ladies, two Baronesses, a Countess, and very respected Lady. They held Christine at an arms length at first. But Christine treated them as well as she knew how, and they gave her the benefit of a doubt. Christine even went to the festivities with them a few times. For Christine had, for the first time in two months, allowed to strain herself and join in on the fun.

The first three days had been dedicated to one on one fights, and jousting. A dozen or so smaller arena's were set up for fights, and a larger one for the jousts. Just the week before, any man, if he was not a knight, could sign up with their name to join in on the fights. They were then sorted out alphabetically, with each small arena being sectioned a portion of the alphabet.

Erik would hire people to record the results of fights, doubling as mediators. Those who won would continue to fight until only a few men remained. At the end of the third day, prizes were given to many of the winners. The purpose of this was to help discover anyone with a talent for sword fighting, it was known that by competing, you might be called by the Duke for reinforcements if there was an attack.

At the same time, jousting went on between the knights on the other end. It took Christine quite some time to get over the lurch of fear in her stomach as she watched the men hurtle towards each other with their lances head out menacingly. There were no official prizes given, but often woman would give men they admired small gifts. And sometimes it was prearranged that something of one knight would be given to the other if he lost.

In other courts, Christine knew that knights could lose their entire suit of armor, and their sword if they lost. This was a tragedy to any knight, often the chain mail, helmets and sword they wore were passed down from their fathers, and they would not be able to obtain another. Erik, thankfully, did not allow this.

"Far too much can go wrong in a fight, that is not in fault of the rider." He would say to anyone who argued against his policy. "The purpose of these fights are to train, not to win a boon. I want my knights to be able to sharpen their skills without fear of losing their swords."

At the end, the winner was declared, and given a special seat at the end of the table that night. This final celebration was normally where the celebrations would end. But as it was autumn, it went on.

Over the next three days, archery, hand to hand combat, wrestling, racing, even a swimming race down by the ocean. The knights fought one on one on foot. Winners were once again given prizes, sometimes a place at the table with the Duke himself if they preformed well enough.

Throughout the tournament, rows and rows of stands were set up by shop keepers. People would come in to sell their goods, it was a perfect time with so many merry people. Food, dye, jewelry, carvings, drink, shoes, spices, trinkets, cloth, and thread. Many traders to come and set up their goods. The local tavern set up a large canopy and sold a meal and wine for a silver coin. Many farmers came in for a day to buy necessary items and to watch the fight.

On the morning of the first day, Erik had pressed a bag of money in Christine's hands, in addition to the kiss they usually shared. It amounted to quite a bit more than she expected. The visiting woman, and Meg, suggested she buy a few jewels to begin a collection. With that decided the group of woman went through the market until they found a suitable vendor.

At first Christine had been mystified at the dozens of brooches, necklaces, bracelets, rings, and lockets. The ladies and their maidservants were almost more a hindrance than a help. Each one had an opinion on what looked best on her, and what she should buy. The stall keeper was little help either, suggesting his entire stock to her. Earrings Christine's group steered her away from. Eventually, after quite some time, she bought two brooches, one locket, and a ring. She also bought a silk scarf, beautifully embroidered to be sent as a gift to Lady Valerius, several other little gifts were also bought to be sent to everyone back... home.

She had to admit, the word tasted odd on her lips. She had only been away a little more than eight months, but already the black lands had taken the title of "home" in her mind. The rocky hills, dark castle had taken a place in her heart, as well as the friends she had made, and the ones she hoped to make it.

The final, largest event in the week long event was the melee. It was commonly a fight against two forces, each one against each other for a long as possible.

In Erik's court, these fights were enormous, he had a whole field reserved for the purpose. One Baroness commented that the Black Duke never did anything halfway. Two veritable small armies would be gather, composed of knights, free-man, and those who had done well enough in the aforementioned fights to join. There were two sides, defined by the blue and red sashes they wore. They would fight a mock fight, but a battle. The two sides would throw themselves at each other until none of the other color remained standing.

This was the only fight that Erik participated in. It was here Christine watched anxiously from her place on the stands, watching him loom over the other men (Wearing a red sash) working through a swath of blue. Behind him, the red worked to keep the path open. She couldn't help but worry, despite knowing that all weapons were wooden, and it was only a mock fight. There were still many injuries possible. Broken ribs, arms, ankles, legs. The thought of these kept her breathless as the battle progressed.

In the few moments before the fight began, Christine had given him a handkerchief and a breathless kiss against his jaw. His golden eyes behind the mask had been serious, but comforting as he tucked the cloth in his pocket.

Next to her, Meg watched just as anxiously as Christine. Not only was her father participating, but her oldest brother was now joining the fight for the first time (Both blue). Christine also knew one of the younger knights had a handkerchief from her as well, though she wasn't sure which.

The Baronesses, Countess and Lady watched just as anxiously for their husbands. They held each other's hands, supporting each other in their worry. One of Christine's hands, more often than not, lay on her swollen stomach, as if to comfort the unborn child. Lady Giry was organizing the healers on the sidelines, ready to help any injuries that may come from the battle. Serious injuries were treated right away.

The "battle" lasted two hours, red overcame blue. Christine felt as though she breathed for the first time in those two hours when she saw Erik walk unhindered across the field, depositing his sword in the proper place before heading off to wash in a small designated area.

"Oh, oh look!" Meg grasped Christine's hand, she pointed to the field. "Paul is hurt!" Sure enough, Nadir and another man were supporting Meg younger brother across the field to the waiting healers. "Let us go to him." She cried.

Christine followed Meg down from the viewing stand into the field, where the ladies were flooding onto the field.

They worked their way through the growing crowd, till they came to Paul. Lady Giry was already by his side, as well as healer, who was feeling Paul's leg.

"Oh, is it broken?" Meg gasped. A broken leg that didn't heal correctly could make a man a cripple for the rest of his life.

Lady GIry shook her head. "No, it was hurt, but there is no break, thankfully." Despite her cool tone, Christine saw the hand that held her sons was white as sheets. "He also took quite the hit to his stomach, it will be very badly bruised."

Meg fussed over her brother, who looked nearly as pale as his mother despite the fact he had inherited his father's caramel skin. The healer only looked over him for a few more moments before moving on. Christine moved on as well, walking slowly through the jostling crowd.

She went to the washing tent, waiting outside it's door respectfully. One of the senior passed by her to enter, then stopped and turned to face her. "Are you looking for The Duke?" He asked, Christine nodded, and he continued. "He already left, I don't know where. He seemed in a hurry."

Christine smiled. "Thank you." And she left the tent.

Where was Erik? And where had he gone? Christine had hoped he would return to her after the battle, but perhaps he had something else to do. He had been vert busy these past week, making sure everything ran smoothly. She returned to Meg's side, where Nadir and his two sons had joined the company around Paul.

Paul was brought back to the castle, Christine remained with the rest of Nadir's family until she saw the sun streaking straight through the window. She excused herself to dress for the great feast that would come that night. Meg offered to come to help, but Christine told her to stay. She could dress herself well enough in her new clothes.

When she opened the door, she let out a small shriek. On the bed lay a bolt of silk, red, with gold thread woven to create a pattern of leaves. On top were spools of silk thread. It nearly glowed in the sunlight coming through her window.

The door across the hallway flew open, Erik's voice was sharp. "What is it?"

Christine turned to see him half dressed for the feast, she held back the urge to laugh. "Did you buy the bolt of fabric?" She asked.

He relaxed. "Ah. Yes. I asked Nadir to go through the stands and have the best of the stuff set aside, but I only had to time to look at it after the melee." He hunched a little, his eyes pleading behind his mask. "D-do you like it?"

She laughed. "Yes, of course I do. Thank you!" Christine ran across the hallway, wrapping her arms around his neck, peppering his chin and neck with kisses. "And the money too. You are spending a fortune on me." She informed him between kisses.

Erik stumbled back from her embrace,"Y-yes. I- the clothier said you-you might need another dress. I'll be going to spend some time in the Kings court next year, you will need a court gown. The cost, I admit is a dent-dent but I had some saved up, and it will last you a good many years to come."

Christine quieted. "The King's court?" She asked.

Erik ducked his head. "Yes, he wants to introduce my bride to court. As such..." He shrugged. "I thought you might like a new dress."

Her heart was touched, her hand reached out and touched his. "You are going through an awful amount of trouble for me."

He shrugged again.

Even without the gargantuan author's note, this is by far the longest chapter I've ever written for this novel. 2,700 words! Hope you guys enjoyed it. The tournament was really fun to figure out, along with the market.

Good thing Erik bought her the dress, she's going to need every advantage she gets in court. ;)

Reviews make authors happy! :)