It was snowing outside when Christine Daaé awoke. It was Christmas morning and no doubt there was already a blanket of white over Paris. Moving to the window of her room she opened the curtains and her thought was confirmed.
The cityscape was lovely as people rushed through the streets, bundled warmly to shield against the cold air. The bells on the steeple rang out again, calling the populous to mass.
It should have been a happy morning, but all Christine felt was a lonely ache in her chest. It was the first Christmas she would be spending alone, having recently been orphaned after her father's death.
She now lived in the ballet dormitories of the Paris Opera House and had a new family, but it wasn't the same. Christine was used to sitting by the fire in her cozy house listening to her father play carols on his violin. Now she could expect a loud, rowdy meal as everyone in the opera shared their joy.
Christine dressed, needing to be alone in the chapel. She felt safe there and always a little less lonely. There was a comforting presence in that room, someone or something that helped the eight-year-old girl manage her grief.
Stepping into her shoes, Christine left her room in search of the respite praying gave her. She'd light a candle for her father while she offered up prayers for the baby Jesus on the day of his birth.
"Merry Christmas, Christine!"
Christine turned to see her friend Meg Giry waving at her. Meg was a few years younger than Christine, and she wore green ribbons in her blonde hair. Ribbons that matched the trim on her dress. Meg was bright and bubbly and still too young to understand the pain her friend was going through. All she knew was that Christine was sad, and that wasn't right on Christmas.
"Merry Christmas, Meg."
"Are you coming to breakfast?" the little girl asked. "Mother says you need to eat. And then the party is later. You are coming to the party, right?"
"Perhaps."
"You have too," Meg pressed. "It'll be ever so much fun. The dancing and the music and the Christmas dinner… A goose and ham and the sweets!" The girl's eyes lit up at that thought.
"I'll be down to breakfast soon," Christine promised halfheartedly.
She hurried away, leaving Meg to her sugarplum dreams. She closed the door of the chapel and slipped down it. Her heart was too young for these burdens of loneliness. It was all too much.
A strong presence immediately surround her and Christine knew he was there with her. The Angel's aura filled the room, bolstering her strength. Before he passed, Christine's father promised that he'd send the Angel of Music of watch over her and in this room Christine could feel that presence.
She could even hear the faintest sounds of violin music, a soft lullaby that her father had played. The music should have been comforting, surely that was what the angel to do, but it brought tears to her eyes instead.
As soon as those first few tears fell the music stopped. But when Christine couldn't stop her crying the angel's presence disappeared, retreating from the room to leave her all alone.
"No," the girl cried, jumping to her feet. "Please… come back! Don't leave me too…"
She began to search the room, but there was no one. Christine bit her finger, trying to keep from screaming her pain. She had to get away, had to find some comfort… but there was no one she could go too who could ease this awful suffering.
Not being able to face Meg, or anyone else, Christine fled to the sanctity of her bedroom. She changed back into her white nightgown, content to crawl back under the covers and hide from the world.
But that was when she saw it. A box that hadn't been there before sat on her bed. It was black with a red ribbon tied around it. That ribbon also help down a rose and a piece of paper with her name scrawled on it.
Christine dried her tears and sat on the floor; the box on her lap, trying to decide what to make of the gift. She didn't recognize the handwriting as Madam Giry's, Meg's mother. And other then the two of them, no one was close enough to Christine to feel the need to give her a present.
It was the rose, however, that made her think of the second option. It was a perfect red rose, very much like the one she had found in the chapel the first time she'd felt the Angel's presence.
Could this gift possibly be from him…?
The presence! It was here - in her room! He was watching over her still, as he had promised. Christine sniffled, ashamed that she had thought he'd leave her all alone. He had left to deliver the gift, a gift that was supposed to make her feel better.
Trembling, she removed the rose out and tugged at the ribbon. Her sadness was effetely overshadowed by excitement and the curiosity of finding out what treasures the box held.
She was met with red tissue paper which she carefully unwrapped. Christine gasped as she lifted the shoes. The new pair of ballet slippers looked to be her size, and she hugged them to her chest, more tears threatening to spill over.
This meant more to her then she could say. She couldn't officially join the ballet troupe until she had a proper pair of slippers and now… Now she could join Meg in the beginners' class and learn how to properly dance.
This was the begging of her new life. A chance to move on and make her father proud.
Christine carefully repacked the shoes and changed into proper clothing for the holiday. As she turned to check her appearance in the dusty mirror she gasped. Taking a step closer she touched the glass.
Merry Christmas, Little Lotte
Smiling, Christine ran from the room, hoping that there was some breakfast left.
