Disclaimer: I, Kiwi Anime, do not own any part of the Phantom of the Opera. Neither do I own the opera Griselda, which is a real opera entirely in Italian composed by Giovanni Battista Bononcini. The English lyrics for the song "Per la Gloria d'adorarvi" (Italian for "For the Love My Heart Doth Prize") were written by Dr. Theodore Baker, and the song can be found in "Twenty-Four Italian Songs and Arias of the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries."
Note from Author: I have based this fan fiction off of the movie more than the musical, and have not read the book. I WILL find the book someday, but for some reason, I cannot find a copy of it anywhere nearby. Once I do, I will probably have to re-do this.
Chapter I: Opera Populaire Nouveau
Raphael was an innocent lad who didn't understand true hatred. Hate was a fairy tale to him, a fantasy that he would never have to be subject to. Even though he was sixteen years old, he never worried about such things. All he ever worried about was rehearsals.
Raphael was a backstage worker for the Opera Populaire Nouveau located in the new Paris Opera House, located not too far away from the old opera house. Sometimes, Raphael wished he was one of those on stage, singing for the audiences and being applauded for. That was what Raphael wanted: applause. The feeling would be so thrilling, so enthralling…but it didn't matter much to Raphael that for the moment he was a lowly backstage hand.
Of course, much more mattered to Chouet. Chouet wanted to be Prima Donna, the star of the show, the show-stopper...everything. She may be only a simple chorus girl, but she certainly thought she was amazing. Raphael didn't really understand why she was so eager to be the center of attention. He thought that just being in the opera went to her head. Even being the silent role got to her head.
At the moment, the Opera Populaire Nouveau was undergoing rehearsals for the opera, Griselda, which would be opening in two nights. Raphael was controlling the backdrop, making sure something odd didn't happen, such as the landscape falling on top of the actors. His hands steadied the rope as he watched Chouet on stage, performing a complicated ballet with the chorus. Raphael smiled as he watched his best friend dancing on stage. Her long blonde hair was wavy and tied back in a bun, and her pale skin was flawless and smooth. Her blue eyes were deep and shining, and almost had a slight tint of violet in them. She was so graceful, and quite beautiful, too. Raphael blinked, realizing what he was thinking, and gave himself a smack in the forehead. In the process he temporarily let go of the rope, and suddenly, the backdrop jerked violently as it began to fall. Raphael's eyes went wide as he grabbed the rope quickly, pulling it back up. He then secured a lock, deciding not to trust his hands anymore.
The manager, Monsieur Giovanni, whispered from behind him. "Raphael, what in heavens name are you doing!"
Raphael blushed as red as a beet. He muttered something about not paying attention, making Giovanni very annoyed. "Raphael, if that happens tonight, you can consider yourself unemployed."
Raphael flinched, not enjoying the prospect of unemployment. He had worked very hard to earn this meager job of being a backstage hand, and he would never have a chance at being on stage if he lost this low status in the Opera hierarchy.
Giovanni walked away in a huff after giving one last annoyed glare at Raphael. Raphael sighed and continued watching Chouet dance. The ballerinas suddenly struck a pose and the lights dimmed as multiple men dashed on stage, removing set pieces and putting on other. Raphael's hands brought up the field landscape, pulling on the ropes, as another man on the other side of the stage brought down another backdrop of a beautiful forest. Chouet rushed off stage, rushing by Raphael in the dim light. She didn't notice him at first, but spotted him and waved to him, sitting down in a chair as her makeup was touched up. Raphael smiled, then turned back to look at the performance.
Just before the lights went up, a mirror rushed past Raphael, the carriers of the prop running a little behind. Raphael caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and saw his face droop. He didn't look fit to ever be on stage. He had pale skin, even in the dim light, and his blonde hair was jagged and poorly trimmed. His eyes were a dull blue, not bright and lifelike, and his nose seemed (to him) abnormally large (which it wasn't). But the worst thing was a light scar on his left cheek. Even when he applied makeup, it was still there, ugly and disfigured. It really wasn't that bad, but it still looked horrible to him, and he despised it.
The lights finally turned up, and the men and woman on stage began to sing their songs, performing with beauty and grace, with power and feeling, with emotion and…beauty…
"He had a face carved by the devil himself!" One of the other backstage hands of about eighteen was talking in front of a group of the performers that evening after the performance as girls shrieked at his sudden movements. "And he was a madman! RARGH!" He suddenly leapt at one of the chorus girls, who shrieked with joy. The boy's eyes darted to the left and right, then leapt at another girl. "ARGH!" The girl shrieked as well, and the boy, satisfied with the result, leapt at Chouet. "GRARGH!"
Chouet, however, did not have the same reaction as the previous girls. "Oh, really!" She folded her arms, an annoyed look on her face.
The boy smirked at her, determined to spook Chouet. His hair was short and blonde, perfectly combed and handsome. His eyes were a soft baby blue, and his skin was flawless without any blemishes or scars. "You don't believe in the Opera Ghost? Well, he exists, all right! My father told me all about it! Thirty years ago…" He changed his tone to an eerie ghost-like moan. "…The Opera Ghost…attacked!" He threw his hands up in the air, emphasizing the event.
Chouet looked away from him, looking at Raphael, who sat next to her. "You don't really believe him, do you?"
Raphael blushed, startled. "Err, uh…" He turned away, flustered.
The boy now looked between Chouet and Raphael. "Oh, it really happened." He was still smirking.
Raphael sighed. "Really, now, Jacques. This is not a very good scary story."
Jacques smirked still. "It isn't a story, Raphael! It's the whole reason they re-built this new opera house! It was back in the days of the Opera Populaire…" He sat down, a serious look on his face. "Thirty years ago, if my father told me correctly, there was a great disaster…"
…there was a great disaster that shook my very bones, Jacques. I had attended the Opera Populaire that evening to observe a new opera, Don Juan Triumphant. What an odd opera it was. I found out later that it was written by the madman himself! Imagine it! Those two fools, Monsieurs Andre and Firmin! What were they thinking? I still don't know to this day why they performed that opera. But the truth of the tragedy is they did.
Your mother and I had attended the opera that evening to celebrate our marriage. Of course, technically, she is not your mother, but I always look at her as your mother. She was quite pretty that evening, but, of course, I always thought she was beautiful. That's why I married her.
Well, once the opera started…well! It was such an awful opera! The notes hurt my ears, I had to get up and go outside. I wasn't aware of the rule that if you left the theatre in the middle of an opera, you weren't allowed back in. I thought that was a silly rule then, but as I look back on that incident today, had it not been for that rule, I would be dead.
After about an hour or so, I suddenly heard screaming. I tried to get back in through the double doors, but the ushers wouldn't let me in. The next thing I knew, there was a great crash, as if a thousand wine glasses had been dropped from the great ceiling of the opera house, and the house was up in flames. I tried to get to your mother, I really did…but a great crowd came rushing through those doors that kept me away from getting in. So, I ran. I learned later that your mother had been crushed by a chandelier crash…caused by that madman. He's real, Jacques, no matter what everyone says. They try to cover up that great disaster, but it happened. There is…
"…a phantom of the opera!" Jacques' face was now smirking, looking at Chouet with a pleased look on his face.
Chouet was now clinging to Raphael's sleeve, her face pale. "You mean…that crash was caused…by the phantom of the opera?"
Jacques nodded, his face suddenly solemn. "You must always be careful, Mademoiselle Chouet, or the phantom will catch you!" His face lit up in a demonic way, and Chouet leapt, giving a slight yelp, squeezing Raphael's arm more.
Raphael couldn't feel his arm anymore. He lightly made Chouet let go of his arm, then stood up. "Jacques, this is not a story for ladies." Jacques was now laughing, pleased that he had even spooked Chouet, ignoring Raphael, which angered him more. "I do not find it funny!" There were now girls laughing as well, and soon more and more people were laughing. "STOP LAUGHING!" There was silence when Raphael yelled. He breathed deeply that spoke softly, with power. "We should not joke about such things. There is no more phantom in this opera house. He is gone." There was a much longer silence, and then Raphael, grabbing Chouet's hand, marched out of the room. "Come on, Chouet. We don't need to be around these childish people." He slammed the door behind him, and then began to take Chouet towards the stairs up to her room.
"They should not joke about such things." Raphael was furious. "Yes, Chouet, there was a phantom of the opera. He was a madman, as they say. He was a murderer, and was a true threat to innocent lives. We should not joke…" He suddenly began to run out of breath, now at the top of the staircase, and turned left. "…we should not joke…about such things…" He slowed down, stopping at a door. He breathed deeply for a while, standing at the door. He then held up one hand to the door. "Good evening, Anna Chouet."
Chouet looked at Raphael with a confused look on her face. "Why do you feel so strongly about this phantom?"
Raphael was still breathing deeply, and let his arm drop to his side. "I…my family…we are connected with him in…many ways. He…is a very vicious man, and should not be taken lightly. No…he was a vicious man." He held his forehead in one hand. "There is no more Phantom of the Opera. He is no longer here."
Chouet watched Raphael for a moment, and then walked in front of him, opening the door. She stood in the open doorway for a short moment, and then turned to look at Raphael, lightly curtsying. "Good evening, Monsieur Giry."
Raphael bowed his head, and then looked up at Chouet as she closed the door. He sighed softly, walking away, back down the stairs. He should go for a walk outside to clear his head of all these thoughts before he retired as well.
Next Chapter: The Lair
Raphael looked back at his jagged and deformed reflection in the broken glass, the mask hiding his scar perfectly. He seemed a different man now. It hid the single thing he hated most…and the mask fit him like a glove…