Don Carlos/Don Juan

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Don Carlos/Don Juan

        This is the part of Ellanna's life that feels like "blah blah blah etc." to me. She was tutored by an old woman in England, and was taught Latin, Greek, Hebrew, herbology, and housekeeping. Most of these subjects she took to like a fish to water, except for the last. It was rumored that she couldn't boil a potato without setting it on fire. (part of her pyrokeniesis?) It was here that she acquired her pagan faith. Her actual life in England, from ages 12 to 19 is completely overshadowed by the catastrophe which caused her to leave. She and her tutor were found out to be practicing "witchcraft", in this case, what they were caught doing was simply making poultices and keeping an herb garden. They were going to set her house on fire with the woman she was living with still inside.
        I saw this build-up many times, and was many times too frightened to pay attention to the ending. It was sometime after I had seen this, that Erik and I were finally reconciled. It took many apologies on my part, and a great deal of humility. When he returned to me, though, I was stronger, and while I still loved him very much, he had no hold over me, or my memories. Instead of being overbearing, he had learned to be simply support, and gave me strength instead of smothering me. This may or may not affect the ending which I was then able to allow myself to see.
        The only thing I remember clearly, was weeping pitiably at the feet of a nobleman's horse. "Please," I said, "It's the only family I have"
        He replied by riding between the angry mob and my home and rearing his horse. An odd gap follows. After that, I lived with this man, who I am fairly certain is Erik. We lived at his estate, and were quite happy together.
        What happened next came to me in a dream, and I was able to confirm it with my senses. It was the same scene I had seen before, with some minor alterations. First, I was not the one who invited the murderer into our home; this man was a friend of Erik's. Secondly, we were no where near Paris, or any theater of any kind. Lastly, the scene did not end in my death, except perhaps in allegory. The man who came to kill Erik was the very same man that I had seen myself escaping from before going to Paris, only I heard my husband call him by a different name, "Don Juan."
        I cannot say where it was that I was living previously, but Juan took me to a Spanish city beginning with a "C".