Prologue
Opéra Populaire, 1 hour after the first and only performance of Don Juan Triumphant
"You try my patience. Make your choice." Erik's blue eyes burned, flooded with anger, pain, and an almost childish hope.
"I…" Christine Daaé looked helplessly at her surroundings. A choice had been laid out before her, almost neat in the midst of the chaos of the night. In front of her stood Raoul, Vicomte de Chagny, with a Punjab lasso fasted just tightly enough around his neck to slightly impair his breathing. To her left was Erik, the Phantom, the Opera Ghost. The only man she'd ever loved. She could choose to marry Erik and let Raoul go free. Refuse Erik, and Raoul would be killed.
But how could she choose? She was so young, a mere seventeen. How could she choose between these two men? The choice was obvious. She loved Erik more deeply than anyone or anything else. But his face was horribly disfigured on the right side, the scarring covered by a white leather mask. She could not choose him. To choose him would mean a life confined to the shadows, hiding from the light that would expose Erik's face. He was considered a freak.
To choose Raoul would be so simple. It would be accepted by society and she could have every material thing she could dream of. But try as she might, she could not make herself feel anything more than a sisterly affection for Raoul, her friend since childhood. It was the easy way out.
I am so weak…so weak, thought Christine, tears welling and blurring her vision.
She took a deep, shuddering breath and stepped forward, towards Erik. Looking into the depths of his eyes, she lifted her face to his and kissed his lips, something that she had long ached to do. After moments, she pulled back, searching his face for any sign of emotion. She could not keep herself from him. She flung herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. Christine pressed every inch of herself into him, memorizing his scent, his shape, the way he tasted. He kissed her back, begging her silently to stay with him. Unsurely, he put his hands through Christine's hair, and in that moment she loved him more than ever.
"Please forgive me," she whispered against his lips, and pulled back.
Sobs racked Erik's body. He knew he could never ask her to stay with him and condemn her to a life of darkness, a life with a man that disgusted and horrified her. He loved her so much, more than anyone. Enough to set her free.
"Go. Leave me. Forget all you've seen." He could feel his soul crumbling as he spoke. "Take the boat, and swear to me never to tell the secret you know of the angel in Hell." Staggering towards Raoul, he cut the lasso and freed him.
Raoul grabbed Christine, wrapping her in his arms. Over his shoulder, Christine's eyes never left Erik's broken and defeated form. She allowed herself to be led towards and settled into Erik's gondola.
As they pulled away from the shore, it was all she could do not to hurl herself out of the boat and back towards Erik, relieving his sorrow and anger. She had betrayed him. She had failed him.
Erik silently sobbed as he watched them drift away. He had no idea of Christine's inner battle. He turned away from their departing forms. Grabbing a candlestick, he began smashing every mirror in his labyrinth, making certain that he would never have to see the deformity that had stolen from him everyone he had ever loved.