Raoul
Christine Daae wasn't your average child. She was a prodigy, just as her father raised her. She had chocolate brown curls, hazel eyes, and a voice like an angels. It was said she had gotten it from her mother, who passed away when she was a newborn. She spent most of her time out performing with her father, who was a famous violinist in his time. I was fortunate enough to spend some time with her when she traveled. She was very quiet at times, in her own little world, while other times she was playful, and adventurous. We would go out into the forest and climb trees; we would go for a ride on my brother's sail boat. We were childhood sweethearts, if only for a summer or two. Her father had always told us stories before bed, of monsters, of goblins, but mostly, of the angel of music. She always would talk about how he was there, singing to her, and guiding her. She would save a place for him at the dinner table, and sometimes would throw a fit or cry if she didn't see him at a performance. And when we were young, it was an exciting thought, an angel, an imaginary friend following us around. Though when I met up with her a good 10 years later, it seemed as if her imagination had not let her go.
Christine
My performance went well, and of course my angel of music was there to praise me from his box at the opera the whole way through. It was my big break, and I wouldn't disappoint him. Yes, I sung for him, with all of my breath, all of my voice and all of my soul, I was his. Angel had grown up with me; he was there through it all, he had been my best friend at my loneliest hours, and I loved him. At the end of the song I had fainted from exhaustion, lack of air, I never heard my diagnosis from the nurse, for I had a guest knocking at my door. I tried to tell the nurse not to answer, but my voice had denied me. Soon there was nothing but a young man. The moment I saw him, my heart jolted. He was handsome. He was important. But mostly. I knew him. He was a boy from my childhood. My angel of music had not been present in the room, but he was still with me. His voice reached my ears, hissing.
"Christine Daae, it has been far too long!"
You don't know him Christine.
My angel must have sensed I had a connection with this boy, he was jealous.
"Christine, I don't know if you recognize me, I am Raoul. We used to play together as children, out by the sea. I dived for your red scarf."
I remembered that scarf. At that moment I could tell you exactly where I stored it. I wore it all the time. But still, my angel was persistent about his instructions.
Laugh at him. Make him go away.
And just like that, I giggled at the poor, eager fool sitting in front of me. He frowned.
"Oh, please say you remember me!"
He reached for my hand but I swatted him away.
"Nurse, please. I do not know this man."
Soon he was being hustled to the doorway by the nurse, as I sat with apologetic eyes. How had my Raoul not wanted him to know I wished for him to stay? Did he not remember that I must stay obedient to my angel of music's every command? I did not want to lose my angel, and yet, with Raoul just reach away, I don't think I would let him get away so easily either.
Erik
There she was, just past these walls, just on the other side of my mirrors. A woman, who I had not known of, had not met, and yet, I wanted her. Her voice had filled my domain, the catacombs of the opera house, and it hypnotically dragged me up to her room after the performance. I waited until the vicompte had left the room; I waited for the nurse to leave as well. Finally, when she was alone, I spoke to the girl, Christine Daae. I called her name, softly, not to scare her, but to lure her to me. She looked up, with a warm smile on her face as if she were expecting me.
"Angel of music! Please show yourself."
I smiled wickedly behind my mask. This poor child thought I was her angel of music. But for the love of me, I knew I could not disappoint her. Perhaps it did not help that it was the perfect chance for me to take her under my wing. I began to sing slowly, persuading her further more that I was her angel. She momentarily closed her eyes, as if she melted inside my song. When it was over she opened her eyes once more and ran toward the mirror, which I hid behind. I was frightened and took a step back. She began to sob, her tears smearing and staining the glass.
"Oh please, angel! Show yourself to me! Take me away from here!"
This woman's wish would be my command. She had a power over me unlike anyone I had ever known. Not my mother, the gypsies, the Khanum, not even my trusty Daroga. No this woman was unlike anyone I had ever met. And I had fallen in love with her, just by hearing her sing and I was determined to teach her how to love me in return. With that thought in mind, I opened the two way mirror, which also sets as a door and reached my hand out to her, knowing very well, I now had a lie to keep up with.