A/N: This story shall be an Erik/Christine, yet, no Raoul "bashing" shall take place. As your loving authoress enjoy, and as always comments and suggestions are always welcome.
Disclaimer:Under no circumstances do I take ownership of any material mentioned anywhere in the Kay, the Leroux novel, any of the movie remakes, nor the play production; as such I sadly hold no ownership over Erik or Christine, and cannot whack them over the head to be together. In spite of my constant tries and failures, the movie still ends the same.
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Chapter 1
This Harsh World
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Rouen, 1841
The ashen floors creaked painfully under the bustle of the household. Maids flitted left and right, fluffing sheets, ironing them, make sure all was right and pristine for when the mistress would return back home from her journey to Paris. True it was only a few hours away by carriage, but the woman had insisted upon taking her leisurely time, it was Paris after all. The only still creature in the tiny room was one small child around the age of seven creeping her nose closely to the chilled window and watching as the fog came and disappeared leaving the oddest of shapes behind from where her face had been. Still, the child shown no interest in what was going on and her unruly hair, unbrushed from the morning, did not hide her non-existent smile.
Her brazen hair, glistened wildly, from the stray strands of braids that hung limply by her each of her ears, each tied still with their own scarlet partner of a ribbon. She stood emotionlessly by the windowsill, halfway hidden between the sheer curtains and painfully clutching her porcelain doll, whose face had sustained a large chipping on the right side from the night before. No tears ran down but instead were placed with an eerie calm.
With a sigh Pauli the child's maid stopped her ironing work and in swiping a hair pin from her secured bun of aging auburn locks turned towards the child. Clasping her palm onto her shoulder and deeming no reaction tightened her grip and forcibly led the child towards her mirror. 'She knows how little time I have to work here. The child could at least be agreeable at times as this, even if she has reason to be so cold.' Ripping the ribbons off and unwinding the braids and with a nearby comb, silver plated and adorned with the family's crest, she not too gently untangled, rewound and fastened the hair back in place before grabbing one of the child's new dresses from the wardrobe. And with one final touch and without a word spoken between the two Pauli let herself grin at her work. Then Pauli began the talk she had told the young girl ever since the new mistress had begun her stay. She reminded the girl that her father would again be attending another business meeting that night and while the child's attention to such ramble was scarce it did heighten with the word 'Opera.' But the thought was lost once again in bleak concentration over the matter as her maid continued on in giving her strict instructions, that around noon her father would be expecting the 'Mady-woman' to return and under no circumstances should she be seen or heard until she and her lady guests left for the night.
"Madame Madaline's friends don't like children you see, and yer father'll have my neck le petit if he catches you again, Christine. I know already that doll of yours suffered las' night, but you must understand when your father's been drunken-like. He's meaning no intentional harm to you but you must learn to watch out for yourself. Who knows what could happen to you lest we're not around, or who could take advantage of you." Looking the child in the eye and seeing no obvious reaction Pauli turned to leave but stopped when she heard a quiet voice speak and then with a smile continued out and closed the door behind her.
"I know..."
With that the child was left alone and in slowly edging her way back to the sill climbed up and gazed outward. She silently saw young boys filling out packages while other simply were up to trickery and would rather run about than earn their pay the easy way. Women shuffled by, all dressed up to attend some party and laughing about without a care. To some, the sight of such flattery among them would seem a dream, amongst the prospect of suitors and more parties; to Christine it was her living nightmare, she dreaded the day when she would turn fifteen and be forced into such a role, and besides boys were the least on her mind these days. She knew Pauli would not return for a few hours yet for her lessons and Christine gave a small smile at the thought. Those were her favorite times. After going over her Latin and French, and what she considered her manners courses the music would come. Amadeus Mozart, Frederic Chopin, and Franz Liszt filled her mind and it danced at the remembrance of the other day. Pauli had said though she was no expert on the subject believed her fit for the stage of Paris itself. Of course being her father's daughter, propriety would get in the way of that dream. So long as she lived under his household she was to, when she came of age, marry right and richly. 'To keep the family name' he'd said. After all the Daae fortune was mostly wrapped up I memory now anyways, a few gold coins here and there but it mostly tied in only silver. All the same music was what kept her small spirit going all these long years after her mother's death. It also reminded her of such love stories Pauli used to tell her of her father's old violin days and how he met her mother through such an outlet.
"You know Ayesha," she cooed at her doll, "I think that's why he's always so angry; he misses Mama. That must be it you know?" She was speaking in almost a rhythm, as if convincing herself. "That and the Opera, Ayesha. I heard the other night, when Pauli thought I was asleep that it's in Paris, imagine that can you?" The child sat in silence staring at her doll for a few moments as if hearing some reply but then scrunched her brow some and removed herself to stare into the dolls eyes. Taking her arms to settle around her chest in a manner she had seem Pauli do with her when she'd grown tiresome of her habits she began lecturing the toy. "Well of COURSE, I've always wanted to go to Paris... I've already told you so before. That's where Mama said she'd meet me before she died… No! Maman promised me she'd do it, she promised! You're being very bad right now Ayesha, I told you not to lie anymore, that's how we got into trouble last night. You said Papa would be happy when I asked him to play the violin for me like he used to for Mama… and now he hates me again!" The child cried out at the emotionless face before knocking her down in anguish only to be awoken from the turmoil by a loud crack. Startled, Christine slowly made her way to the doll whose face now held another crack down through it's eye. Then and there she embraced the doll with full force back into her arms, crying for it, crying for her anger, and crying for her father.
"I...I'm so sorry Ayesa, I am. I didn't mean to yell at you, it's not your fault… I don't know whose it is, but it's not yours."
Picking herself up and in calming down her tears Christine went over to the middle of the room where in snuggling the doll in between a pile of folded sheets, created a makeshift bed and silently, to no one but herself and that doll sang a lullaby that had not graced the walls of that household for years.
"Le baiser d'or d'assoupissement vos yeux, (Golden slumber kiss your eyes)
des sourires vous attendent quand vous vous levez. (Smiles await you when you rise.)
Le sommeil, (sleep)
assez bébé, (pretty baby)
ne pleurent pas, (do not cry)
et je vous chanterai une berceuse (And I'll sing you a lullaby)
Soin que vous savez pas, (Care you know not)
par conséquent sommeil, (Therefore sleep)
tandis qu'o'er de I vous observez gardez. (While I o'er you watch do keep)
Le sommeil, (sleep)
assez chéri, (pretty darling)
ne pleurent pas, (do not cry)
et je chanterai une berceuse." (And I will sing a lullaby.)
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Meanwhile just South from there in a house not unlike it, another morning was beginning. Even at the early hour a small boy was already creeping out of his room. Gently turning the key to the door he reeled it open just a crack. Pausing a few moments to listen and then checking for vibrations in the water dish he had adapted into yet another on of his crazed contraptions, he noted the silence and for a fleeting moment relaxed his tensing muscles. Just before entering the hallway the boy slips a few items within his cloak and after swiping a piece of white cloth from the dresser raised the cloak's hood. Making his way further down the hall noises began to be heard from the left wing, to where he was never allowed. Loud snores could be heard coming from both his nana and mother's room. In satisfaction he gave an almost sadistic grin. 'Good, then it worked.' Using the other key from his pocket he slowly unlocked the farthest door in the hall, the place she had hidden all of his belongings, his music and violin most importantly. Slipping in and grabbing what he deemed most desirable he tucked them away and locked the door back.
The stairwell became his next overcoming obstacle. The night before he had used his upstairs window as an escape route, but in giving the woman some credit, she was smarter than she looked. She had immediately ordered any windows within sight, be boarded shut or have mirrors put all around, as if to ward him away like some vampire to garlic. Well despite the mirror aspect, the woman's endearing qualities seemed quite charming; he hadn't realized she'd cared so much. Scoffing he managed to pry open the next lock and then the next. 'Really, does she believe this at all necessary? It's not as if I wake up each morning with a need to go out for midmorning coffee. Really!' And in the next moment he was out and if freedom could be described as a horrid, bubbling feeling in your stomach then that was what he felt. "Well this is it huh? This is the harsh world eh? Humph. Smells like mildew and sawdust… Well I suppose I didn't really expect the world to immediately rejoice as soon as I escaped that bin in any case."
Searching quickly for a shadowed corner and finding it, with his face hidden the boy slung himself down into the shadows to think. He stupidly hadn't though to steal some of the house's money and he certainly had no mode of transportation. After walking by himself a few blocks where did he expect to go? It was like sending a tamed lion into a full den of well-bred, full out wild ones. This wasn't his world; his world was with his maid. The poor woman had suffered enough out of him over the years, the boy thought. Over his days of existing, it was hardly a life, she had cared for him and though she did cower away each time his face was revealed she did stay He didn't know whether it was by sheer forced will or payment. His mother had paid quite a bundle to keep her around all these years. In any case he was gone from there now and didn't plan on going back. Sasha, the pitifully thin dog she was, had become his only friend while there. They had come to associate her with him not after too long and the poor thing soon became as deprived and neglected as he had. He was thankful the mutt had run off weeks before, to live on the streets, yes, but better off than he.
After breaking off from the clouded thoughts the boy peered upward and caught the sight of incoming clouds. 'Rain, just what I need at a time like this.' Quickly making use of his resources the child formed the looks of a shelter and fastened himself into it, hoping at least some of it withstood the rains. In watching the shower begin his eyes began growing heavy and for the first time in days he slept, even if it was only for a while.
Hours had passed and the sun now showed itself high in the sky and the stirring boy could make out a few murmurs near him. "So what do you think it is? Is it alive?" one voice asked. The leader of the three village market boys stepped forward and shook his head. The foursome had been passing by the alley on their way for a delivery when they noted that someone was sleeping in some sort of box hidden deep in its reeve. Slowly making their way towards him one had been brave enough to take off the piece of fabric from his face and leapt back at the sight. Quickly and quietly calling the lads over they began to investigate him.
"No, I figure he's dead. No living thing could look like that; I mean you can barely see the things eyes through that mass flesh. No I bet some tramp killed him months ago and the rats been eating on him. At least that would explain it from the look of things."
"But what should we do with.."
At that moment the younger boy's eyes bulged open and with his mouth agape, unable to finish his sentence stumbled backwards in fear. It was at this point in time to where the boy in question decided to awake. He had heard a mumbled bit and honestly was tired of what ever it was that was disturbing him. His eyes opened strangely, appearing one had done so before the other and in seeing the four boys huddling together over him, annoyance took over.
"Wa's you want?" Still awaking, his voice slurred together causing a cringe to appear on his visage, only heightening his audience's awareness of it.
"He...it's alive! But how...I.. is it a demon?"
At this point, the child being fully awakened became aware of their horrified stares at him and it is at this point a stray hand slowly made its way to his cheek. 'My mask…' There it remained, in shock and realization, until what appeared to be the group's leader emerged in front of him with a rather large smirk.
"What's wrong freak? Just now notice we took your face off. Well here take it back we wouldn't want to see that thing while we take you for all you've got. What do you say boys, Hmm? Doesn't he look the sort of thing Mistress Hibbing's said she saw lurking about the other nights?"
Whether in sheer agreement or whether the other boys followed suit with the other, those who had before been cowering behind now held a new confidence and in a quick toss lunged the mask back at him. At first only slide comments were made to him but before long dust was being kicked and with each new false accusation against the boy with no face the group's anger grew. Finally one lunged at him hoping to swipe a good punch since the thing hadn't moved since they started but only obtained a mouthful of rocks and a splitting headache as he rammed head first into the wall, being the boy had moved at the opportune moment.
"Well you're a fast freak aren't you, I'll give you that."
The child only responded with a growing sly smirk. These boys obviously wanted a fight and since they were so wiling to hurt themselves he supposed he'd let them have a run at it. For a few more minutes that was how the bicker went, dodging and a growing laughter, but as the child began wearing down, as all young malnourished children do, his tactics became slowed. Around some point in the clamor he'd either hit something sharp or one of the boys had held a dagger to him. Either way he noticed he was losing blood at a steady enough rate for his vision begin to blur. He even thought among the darkness of the alley a shadow of a dog could be seen. Clearly becoming delirious, as the other boys noticed, a small whisper escaped his lips. 'Sasha?'
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Okay well here's the first chapter. Yes, it will be a few more chapters before Christine and Erik meet, though rest assured they will. But hey I'm filling you in with the background stuff first; sappy romance can come later. ;) And just for all you Kay fans, yes a scene did occur in the novel where Erik ran off only to get beaten up by a group of village boys, just so you know, but I am putting my own adaptations to it. So, see you in the next chapter and... what... Sasha? What's she doing there.. and why is Erik starting to see red?
Mickey-the-Mouse