Chapter Text
December 1883
They had read about this stage in a baby’s first months, at first it was only the odd grunt or sleepy cry. Then the cries turn to tantrums, long, long tantrums.
Ingrid was only four months old but had the lungs of an entire chorus, no doubt hailed from her musical parents but unlike them she was only a baby and rather than poetically trained angelic voices, she just screamed. At her first tantrum Erik was horrified, from the moment of her birth Christine was adamant he kept his mask off, and he did, but when Ingrid screamed after he picked her up he almost fainted. For the rest of that week he kept his mask on whenever he was near her, Christine tried to reassure him he probably just picked her up too quick after her nap but he would not budge, sometimes Christine felt she were raising two children. The second ‘bad one’ as her fits of rage had been coined was when Ayesha, their cat, had scratched her after she tried to grab her tail, that one went on for the rest of the day regardless of the amounts of hugs and ‘shh’s’ either Christine or Erik gave her. After the 17th tantrum they gave up counting, now it was a normal event in the Daae’s (now above ground) house
‘Perhaps you want to go outside? Is that it Ingrid? Outside?’ Christine pointed to the window while still rocking the crying infant in her other arm, arms flailing constantly, a few times smacking Christine in the face.
‘Please, please just tell me! Shh, no It’s ok, It’s ok.’ She had made the mistake of raising her voice, now the cries only turned into blood curdling screams.
‘I’ve got it! Here It’s hot.’ Erik came running into the room nearly tripping over Ayesha who was relaxing on the rug in the doorway. He outstretched the bottle of warm milk to Christine who took it and quickly pointed the nipple to Ingrid, however all was in vain as she only opened her tightly shut eyes and pushed the bottle away.
‘I told you she wouldn’t be hungry, I just fed her 30 minutes ago.’ Beginning to walk around the room Christine kept rocking the baby, being particularly careful to not trip over the many toys, yet to be folded laundry or anything else they hadn’t been able to clean up.
7 months ago this quaint little house was pristine and calm, 6 months ago Christine and Erik could leave and come back from their walks whenever they pleased, 5 months ago the two looked like reasonable people of society. But now, well now their house was nothing but messy rooms and unwashed dishes, whenever they did clean it would just be destroyed the next day. Now they were trapped inside from a specific time, and when they did venture outside they must be careful, not too late and not too early and definitely not too far. And now, both of them looked in the most blunt terms, awful. Christine had eye bags that could be mistaken for makeup for a play, her hair never brushed and body feeling miserable. Erik went from looking like he was off to the opera every day to homeless, clothes never matched and waistcoats were always unbuttoned due Ingrid’s seemingly immense amusement to undoing them for him to just button them back up, over time he became too tired to even do them properly and so it would always be wonky.
‘Perhaps she wants to walk? Is that it dear, walk? A walk?’ Bending down Erik tried to hold the tiny hands that kept flinging around but ultimately failed.
‘I’ve already asked her that, she doesn’t seem to want anything! Nothing in the books said anything about this, it said they would always want something, but she doesn’t want anything! Here please take her my arms are going to fall off.’
Christine Slumped onto the sofa while Erik imitated her cycle around the living room.
‘Well I suppose we haven’t found it yet, did the guide say when they started talking?’ Erik was now at the back of the sofa peering over Christine’s shoulder as she opened the ‘new parents guide’ they had treated like the bible so far. Skimming through the pages Christine groaned and flung the thing to the other chair, then fully laid down pushing the clothes she was going to fold two days ago onto the floor and planting her face into the nearest pillow.
‘12 months at earliest.’ She muffled through the pillow.
Erik could only stoop his head low and try not to cry, which was a mistake as it only made his hair closer for Ingrid to grab and pull at, which she did. Letting out a yelp of pain Christine jumped up and knelt on the sofa to reach out to help her husband. Taking her back into her arms Christine was too tired to move anymore, she just sat lying still while the infant screamed continuously. Rubbing the spot of hair his daughter had a cast iron grip on Erik sighed and walked to sit on the armchair Christine had thrown the book to.
Flicking through the worn pages Erik collapsed further into the chair, neither of them look exactly elegant and neither of them could rather care right now.
‘Found anything?’ Christine didn’t even bother to turn her head to ask.
‘Nothing we haven’t read, God knows why that librarian said this was the best seller…’
‘Just read some out loud perhaps we might of missed something.’
Too tired to argue Erik did just that, he began reading a random exert the two had most likely memorized like a script. Nothing all that important just some dietary tips for the mother and what babies should first start eating from moving to actual food. However in those few moments of him reading the screams turned to cries, cries turned to sniffled grunts and then, nothing. She had fallen asleep.
‘Is…? Is she actu-’
‘Shh, whisper, she’s asleep.’ Christine could hardly believe it, she was asleep in a matter of minutes, which beats the old routine of trying to leave her in the cot but the second both of them heard a single cry they would come running into the nursery to calm her. Leaning over from where he sat Erik could just see the top of Ingrids head sleeping soundly. Most people if given one wish would be the usual, eternal life, fame, fortune, love, etc, etc. But for these two sleep deprived souls, the peace was certainly Gods finest gift. Yet this moment only lasted exactly that, a moment, she began moving again, even making slight sounds of annoyance. Christine’s eyes shot open and blood began to run cold at the thought of her rest being taken this soon.
‘Read Erik, for Gods sake read that thing!’
Erik nearly dropped the book out his hands to try and open the pages quick enough and read whatever his eyes landed on, in a few seconds after his voice began to read aloud the room was quiet.
As night approached it was strange for the countryside house on the seaside towns outskirts to be so quiet. If someone were to look through the living room window they would be met with three sights. One, a very tired looking lady cuddling a sleeping baby. Two an equally disgruntled man sleeping in an armchair with a fluffy Persian cat relaxing on his lap. And three, a parenting guide hanging from said mans hand that had been thrown over the side of the armchair. Quite a sight indeed.