PROLOGUE:

Erik gazed at the dazzling ring, set with beautiful stones that glittered brightly even in the dim light of his lair. He held the broken chain the ring was bound by out at a distance from his face and could scarcely contain the emotion that seared through his veins. The boy had proposed to her. That foolish, arrogant, self-centered boy had seen that Christine was a rare treasure indeed, one that he wanted to own for himself. It had not been difficult for him to earn a soft spot in her heart. After all, they had been childhood friends, together in the only period of Christine's life that Erik did not know.

To Christine, Raoul represented a gateway to happier times. To the blissful life that she had once known before her father passed away. Erik knew all too well just how hard the child had taken the death of her father, and perhaps he had played on that grief just a little in the beginning. Just the same, her attachment to the boy could only stem from some deep longing in her heart to reclaim the happy world of her childhood. She certainly was not prepared to marry him. She barely knew him, after all. Many years had passed since their parting, and only a handful of months since their reunion. If she had truly gotten to know him as an adult, Erik was certain Christine would not be so willing to wed.

But she had accepted the ring.

This simple knowledge burned at the very core of Erik's heart, and his foggy blue eyes glared fiercely at the gaudy trinket he held before him. That blasted boy had only set out to claim Christine for what he saw of her on stage. There was no denying that Christine was an angel, and that she was indeed set apart from the rest of wretched humanity. But that boy didn't care in the least for what was truly beneath her angelic exterior. He couldn't possibly comprehend and appreciate the true beauty in the depths of her soul. That boy could not love her as she deserved to be loved.

And she had accepted him anyway.

Images of the night on the rooftop flashed once again through Erik's dark mind, and his fist clenched ever tighter around the broken chain. Yes, Christine had been frightened. She had never responded well to death, and the murder of Joseph Buquet, especially since she knew who was responsible, was bound to be unsettling. But Erik had only done what was necessary, and his only regret was the terror he had invoked in his beloved's heart. Her words still rang through his mind, and he was convinced that she did not understand what she was dealing with.

Christine had been frightened, and she did not wish to witness the death of her childhood friend, her living link to her past happiness. She had feared that Erik would have struck the boy down, just as Buquet had been dealt with. That was her entire reason for bringing the boy up to the roof in the first place. And yet Raoul had responded to her with disbelief, and a patronizing sort of concern. He ignored her insistence that the Phantom of the Opera existed. Despite Christine's terrified insistence, he refused to respect her enough to believe her. He simply convinced her that her reaction was foolish. He had warped her mind to believe that his presence in her life was far more important than anything else on her mind. She had been reluctant to fall into his trap, and fall into his arms. Despite her fear, Erik had heard her inability to completely condemn her Angel of Music to a creature of evil. He was convinced the true feelings in her heart had still tugged her toward her beloved teacher, away from the boy standing before her,

And yet she had still turned away from Erik, to Raoul.

Despite his earlier impertinence, the boy had come to believe in the Phantom at this point. Erik's appearance at the Masquerade had seen to that. As soon as the Phantom had made his presence known, the boy had left Christine's side, abandoning her to what he was certain was danger. Raoul had thought to leave so he might obtain a weapon with which to confront the Phantom, more concerned with proving his own dominance than Christine's safety. As for Christine… Erik had seen it in her eyes: she was still drawn to him. She was still in his power, although she didn't realize it. His tremendous command and control over his own emotions had nearly slipped away from him when he saw that longing in her questioning and frightened eyes, and he had almost forgotten his fury at her betrayal on the rooftop. But then the shine of the obnoxious engagement ring had caught his eye, and his compassion evaporated. She had betrayed him, yes. But there was time enough to mend that situation. It was that blasted boy that controlled her now, that arrogant fop that needed to be punished for leading Erik's beloved angel astray.

Slowly, Erik released his hold on the broken chain and let the ring drop onto the top of his desk. Absently thumbing the chain's imprints left behind in the soft black leather of his glove, he rose and strode to the doorway of his small bedroom, donning a thick cloak before heading out. The black fabric billowed out behind him as he made his way through the candlelit lair and mulled several plans of action over in his head. Christine would return to him if that boy was not there. If he could somehow steal enough time alone with her, she would realize who she truly belonged to. The time of waiting was at an end, and Erik knew what he must do.

He was going to see Christine.

Author's Note: My first attempt at writing PoTO fiction. I posted this story some time ago, but decided it was in desperate need of a re-write. So I'm going through and re-doing the story to clean it up, chapter by chapter. The original story has been taken off so I can re-post this one. I suppose I'm re-editing my old stuff in an attempt to improve my writing style. Anyway, the story was finished several years ago, so I doubt anyone remembers it and will notice that this is a re-post. Expect an update once a week, occurring every Tuesday. Happy reading!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Phantom of the Opera, nor do I own the songs referenced in the story.