This is my first phic. Constructive critism always welcome.
Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera or Romeo and Juliet in any way. Too bad, so sad.
"Erik, please show me. I wish to see the face of the man I love."
Isabelle reached her hand forward to grasp her lover's hand. Candlelight illuminated the couple, sending shadows dancing across the man's mask. Golden curls framed her smiling face. She had known him for almost known him for two years now, not once seeing him without his mask. She wistfully dreamed of what his face might look like. With such a melodic voice, how could he not have a attractive face as well? His voice was like an angel sent from heaven to her. Yes, that was it, she mused. He must have such a beautiful face, that not just anyone could look upon it. She smiled at the thought, and continued to look imploringly into his eyes.
Across from her, Erik Dupont set his eyes downcast, frantically wondering what he should do.
Dare I show her? He thought. Could she love me?
Erik lifted his amber eyes to her own. He could see the pleading in their hazel depths. Yet still he struggled. His whole life he had been shunned; it would be too sweet a dream for this woman to accept him. His own family, the DuPont's, preferred to pretend that he didn't exist. He had brought havoc upon his family; it was because of him that the Daaes' despised them. The Daaes' believed such a monstrosity should have been killed before it could take its first breath, and resented the DuPont's for not doing so.
Isabelle deserved so much more than his rotting carcass. She deserved the angel that she hoped to find under his mask. He knew he wouldn't survive her rejection. If she screamed, he would not leave this ivy-laden courtyard with his soul. Yet as he looked into her gorgeous eyes, he knew he couldn't deny her. He freed his hands from her's, and moved to untie the knot resting on the back of his head. He moved slowly, silently giving her a chance to stop him. She didn't. Erik took a deep breath as he dropped the mask. At first, he dared not look into her eyes. After a moment of silence, he snuck a glance at her, and immediately wished that he hadn't. She gazed at him in horror, her mouth agape, as if wanting to scream but not having the ability to. With his eyes, he silently prayed that she wouldn't scream. However, she could not see his unspoken plea, and regained use of her voice. Her shriek pierced the night, and shattered the heart of the man before her.
Above them, a beautiful young woman sat at her vanity staring into nothingness. She glanced out her window alarmed, when she heard the scream. Thinking someone was in trouble she ran to her balcony, and leaned far over the railing, squinting in the darkness. She could see a young woman with gold hair running from a crouching figure that sat on a bench. Seeing the leaning figure, she lost all interest in the wailing girl. Though he made no sound, she could tell he was miserable. She watched with sad eyes as he crumpled to the ground, hanging his head as he cried. After a moment, he composed himself, and reached out for something lying on the ground. She watched as he placed the object on his face, tying it in place. He got of the ground, and stood there, almost as if he didn't know what to do. After a moment, he began to walk away from her eyesight. She was about to call out to him, when she heard the screeching voice of her nurse calling out behind her.
"CHRISTINE ELISE DAAE! COME INSIDE THIS INSTANT, BEFORE YOU CATCH YOUR DEATH!"
Christine jumped at the force of her nurse's demand, and turned to face the angry woman. When she glanced back at the courtyard beneath her, her mysterious man was no where in sight. She shook her head to clear her thoughts, and made her way back to her room. With one last glance at the courtyard, she disappeared into her room to find her nurse tapping her foot impatiently.
"Your mother wishes to have a word with you, ma'am." Antoinette informed her.
Christine nodded her head and followed Antoinette out of her bedroom and down the hallway to the drawing room. Christine found her mind drifting away as she gazed lazily at the ornate designs of the ceiling. The Daae family had not always been so wealthy. Her ancestors had started out as musicians on the country side, fiddling and singing their way to their next meal. All of that changed when they came to Paris. After becoming extremely successful at the Opera Garnier, the Daae's decided to leave the stage, and became patrons to the opera house. Since then, no Daae had performed onstage. The thought saddened Christine. Singing was her passion, and she only wished that someday she might sway her parents into permitting her to return their family to the spotlight.
A light cough shook Christine from her thoughts, and she found herself standing in front of the grand oak door. O, how she despised this door. Every time her mother had a new order for her, she was once again brought to it. Her reflection in the shiny door knob mocked her, taunted her. It took all of her strength not to just turn around and run forever. As much as it hurt to admit it though, she couldn't leave. She had nowhere to go. With a heavy heart, she reluctantly walked into the room.
An elegant woman wearing fine and sipping tea lifted her head as Christine entered. Anne Daae gave her daughter a distasteful look. If only she had a more obedient daughter! Christine was always going on about nonsense, like singing. She should be focusing on marrying a good man, not dreaming away all day! Anne set her tea down and invited her daughter to join her in the chair opposite to her.
"Christine, I have wonderful news for you." She said with a sweet smile.
'You're not my real mother?' Christine thought hopefully
"A man wishes for your hand in marriage; the Vicomte de Chagny!"
Christine felt as though someone had spilled a bucket of ice water on her. She was numb all over. Marriage, to many people, meant the start of something grand. To her, it was the end of everything. There would be no chance at real love, a career in opera, or traveling the world. Everything she had ever dreamed about or wanted for her life would never happen. Of course, the Vicomte was asking for her permission. However, she knew that her parents would give her away without her consent. There was no use fighting it. Her parents would disown her if she dared defy them. She swallowed her tears and faked a smile of joy.
"That's wonderful, mère! When will I meet him?" she managed to say.
Anne let out a sigh of relief. The girl wasn't going to fight her on this. "At tomorrow night's masquerade ball. So, we must be sure that you look your best! How about that lovely pink gown you have? You'll look like a fairy princess!"
Christine forced a smile, secretly blanching at the prospect of wearing that horrid thing.
"I look forward to it", she said, rising from her seat. She gave a small curtsy, and walked back to her room. She smirked as she thought about what she would be wearing to the ball. 'She wants me to be a princess? Well, I was thinking more along the lines of Spanish seductress…I can defy her in at least one way.'
Please review, and let me know if I should continue.
