The Vicomtesse

by LeSlytherinPhoenix

Instead of Raoul, Renee. Instead of a boy, a girl. Instead of an unhappy ending for Erik, a happy one. What the musical may have been like if Raoul were a girl. Erik/Christine. Mostly musicalverse, some book-based ideas and concepts.

1. Chapter 1

Hey! This is my first phanfiction, so please bear with me. Constructive criticism is ALWAYS, ALWAYS, welcomed!
Rating: T, because I'm paranoid.
Characters: Christine, Erik, Raoul (as a girl), Andre, Firmin, Carlotta, Piangi, Meg Giry, Madame Giry, etc. etc. and some minor OCs.
Summary: Instead of Raoul, Renee. Instead of a boy, a girl. Instead of an unhappy ending for Erik, a happy one. What the musical may have been like if Raoul were a girl. Erik/Christine. Mostly musicalverse, some book-based ideas and concepts.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, neither the book nor the musical. I also do not own anything I mention. The only things that I own are the OCs and the plot.

The Stage of the Opera Populaire, 1905.
"Sold! Your number, sir? Thank you. Lot 663, then for this Opera's production of Hannibal. Do I have ten francs? Five, then? Five, I am bid. Six? Six, I see seven! Against you sir, seven? Eight? Eight. Eight once, twice, sold! To the Vicomte and Vicomtess deLavigne."
Renee, Vicomtess deLavigne smiled at her husband. It felt good to be at the Opera Populaire again, despite of the things that had happened here.
"Lot 664, a wooden pistol and three human skulls. Showing here. Ten francs for this?" A man in the back raised his hand. "Ten, thank you, ten, I am bid, 15, going for fifteen! Your number, sir? Thank you." The auctioneer cleared his throat before continuing. "Lot 665, a musical box in the shape of a barrel organ, attached to the figure of a monkey in Persian robes, playing the cymbals. An item discovered in the vaults of the theatre, showing here."
Renee closed her eyes as she remembered the tune.
"May I commence at twenty francs? Ladies and gentlemen, fifteen, then?" Renee desperately bid. She needed this. For Christine. "Thirty? Thirty. Selling at thirty francs, then. To the Vicomtess deLavigne, thank you, madam."
"A collector's piece, indeed," she whispered. "It's exactly like you said it was, Christine, exactly..."
"Lot 666, then. A chandelier in pieces." The auctioneer continued. "Some of you may remember the affair of the Phantom of the Opera. Alas, a mystery never explained. We have restored and rewired it with today's electricity so we may have an idea of how it may have looked. Perhaps we can frighten away the ghosts of so many years ago with a little illumination? Gentlemen!"
Shivers ran through Renee's frame as the chandelier lit up in a spectacular display of lights. She remembered the Opera house. The fine tapestries, the gold statues of angels.
In her mind's eye, Renee saw the Opera Populaire revert back to it's former glory...

The Opera Populaire, 1881
The Prima Donna of the stage, La Carlotta, was finishing her aria in a shrill, ringing soprano, while cradling a dead head. The chorus members rushed on stage, and finished the song in a ridiculous flourish.
"Alright, again!" Monsier Reyer cried, and the chorus members groaned in frustration. The owner of the Opera Populaire, Lefevre, came in, leading two men that looked around as if rather lost.
"Now, gentlemen, as you can see, rehearsals are underway for our new production of 'Hannibal.' Ladies and gentlemen," he turned to face the cast, "some of you may already know and -"
Monsieur Reyer rudely interrupted him. "We are rehearsing, if you wouldn't mind?"
"Monsieur Reyer, our chief repetitor." Lefevre introduced him. "Rather a tyrant, I'm afraid." Motioning to the overweight Piangi, he said, "Piangi, our leading tenor. He plays opposite La Carlotta."
Madame Giry was getting impatient as well. "Gentlemen, if you please!"
"My apologies, Madame Giry. This is our ballet mistress."
Andre looked over the ballet girls and motioned to Meg Giry. "Who's that girl?"
Lefevre glanced over to where he was motioning. "Her? Meg Giry, Madame Giry's daughter. A quite promising dancer."
Their conversation was interrupted with Madame Giry's yelling. "You! Christine Daae! You better concentrate, girl!"
Firmin wrinkled his brow. "Daae? What a curious name."
"Swedish." Lefevre explained.
"Ah. Any relation at all to the violinist?"
"His daughter, I believe. Always has her head up in the clouds, I'm afraid." He remarked.
Practice continued, Carlotta singing her shrill high notes, Piangi messing up the pronunciation-again- and the chorus running about wildly, crashing into each other. Lefevre cleared his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen! May I have your attention, please? As you know, for some weeks there have been rumours of my imminent retirement.I can now tell you that these were all true and it is my pleasure to introduce to you the two gentlemen who now own the Opera Populaire, Monsiuer Richard Firmin and Monsiuer Gilles Andre. This is Signora Carlotta Giudicelli, our leading soprano for five seasons now."
They immediately began fawning over Carlotta and Piangi while the chorus rolled their eyes. At the new owner's request, Carlotta began singing her aria from Act Three, an aria which Christine knew by heart.
"Think of me, think of me," she sang, but her shrill shrieking was interrupted by a loud thudding noise as the Prima Donna was nearly struck by a falling set piece.
The ballet girls immediately began shrieking amongst each other, with the occasional cry of "The Phantom!" and "He has arrived!"
Desperate to try to regain some level of control over the situation, the new owners called for the set master, Buquet, a man who was famous for trying to frighten the ballet and chorus girls with tales of the so-called "Phantom of the Opera."
"I wasn't at my post!" he claimed. The owners exchanged unbelieving looks. "Please, Monsieur, there's no one there, and if there is, well, it must be a ghost..."
Meg began to shriek, "He's here! The Phantom of the Opera!"
One of the new managers -was it Andre?- turned around and snapped at the poor girl. "Good heavens, can't you show a little more courtesy?"
The two began to try to console Carlotta, who was weeping at her apparent brush with death.
"But, mademoiselle, these things to happen..." Andre tried to tell her, but Carlotta rudely brushed him off.
"Si! These things do...happen!" She exclaimed, wrinkling her nose. "Well, until you stop these things from happening, this-" she motioned to her throat- "does not happen!" And with a great sob that Christine was nearly sure was fake, she strutted out of the room, Piangi following close behind.
Lefevre bowed out of the conversation. "I-I don't think there's much more to assist you, dear gentlemen. Good luck. If you need me, I shall be in Frankfurt." He hastily made his exit as the two new owners stared dubiously behind him.
Andre paced, muttering to himself, "Carlotta will be back, she must be..."
Madame Giry raised her eyebrows. "You think so, messieurs? I have a message, sir, from the Opera Ghost."
You could practically see the two owners facepalming in their mind.
Madame Giry shrugged with an amused expression. "He merely welcomes you to his opera house and commands you to continue to leave Box Five empty for his use and reminds you that his salary is due."
Firmin's mouth fell open. "His... salary?"
Madame Giry explained. "Monsieur Lefevre paid him twenty thousand francs a you can afford more, with the Vicomte and Vicomtess deLavigne as your patrons."
Andre tutted. "Madame, I had hoped to have made that announcement myself."
"Will the Vicomte and the Vicomtess be at the performance tonight, monsieur?" Madame Giry inquired.
Firmin quickly answered her question, hoping to find a solution to the problem at hand. "Yes, yes, of course, they will be seated in our box." Quickly he changed the topic. "Is there an understudy for this role?"
"Of course not!" Monsieur Reyer blustered. "The production is new!"
Meg pulled Christine towards the owners. "Christine Daae could sing it, sir!"
"The chorus girl?" Firmin waved the suggestion off, but paused when Madame Giry intervened.
"Let her sing for you, monsieur. She has been well taught."
"From who?" Andre asked.
"I-I don't know, sir?" Christine was shaking.
"Oh, not you as well!"
"A full house, and we have to cancel!"
"Let her sing!" Madame Giry commanded, and the tentative strains of "Think Of Me" began.
Christine began, nervous, but gained confidence as the song continued.

It was a packed house. Everyone was pushing towards the stage to see the beautiful new singer as she performed her great aria in front of the crowd.
High above in the owner's box, Renee, Vicomtesse deLavigne watched the opera with a look of recognition on her face .
"Christine? Can it be?" She clapped excitedly. "Brava! Brava!"
"What is it, my dear?" Her husband asked.
"An old childhood friend of mine. We simply must visit her after the show, Averell, we must!"
Her husband chuckled at his wife's enthusiasm. "If you say so, darling."
Christine finished the aria to thunderous applause. The rest of the opera went by without a hitch. Renee, however, wasn't paying attention, she was busy writing her long-lost friend a note. As soon as the final curtain fell, she rushed backstage and found the ballet mistress.
"Excuse me, madam, could you please deliver this to Miss Christine Daae?"
"Of course, Vicomtesse," the ballet instructor said, looking slightly confused, but walked off, shaking her head slightly.
As soon as the Vicomtesse was out of sight, Madame Giry rushed to Christine, catching her and Meg is an enthusiastic gossip session about Christine's Angel of Music.
"Meg, run along now, child." After making a shooing motioned to her child, Madame Giry turned to Christine and smiled. "You did a wonderful job today, my dear. He will be pleased." A large smile spread across the young singer's face. "I was asked to deliver this letter to you."
Christine thanked her ballet instructor and took the letter from her outstretched hand.
Once Madame Giry had left the room, Christine opened the letter, noting the deLaVigne seal on the envelope.
"Little Lotte," she read. " The Angel of Music." She couldn't believe it. Could it be?

Outside, Renee was trying to convince her husband to let her visit Christine by herself, without the accompaniment of the Opera's owners. Finally, he agreed, and Renee threw her arms around him.
Entering the room, she saw that Christine had just put the letter down on the table.
"Christine?" She ventured cautiously into the room. As Christine turned around to face her, she rushed forward and hugged her old friend. "Oh, Little Lotte, how I missed you! Wait, you remember me, right?"
Christine grinned. "Of course I remember you! I still have that scarf, you know!"
"Oh yes," Renee smiled as well, remembering times long ago. "That's good. After all, I was fourteen and soaked to the skin. I do believe my governess thought me insane."
"And the nights in front of the fireplace-" Christine said excitedly.
"With your father playing the violin as we played with our dolls!" Renee interrupted. "How could I ever forget?"
The two girls grinned at each other, happy to be in the presence of each other again. They hadn't changed much, of course. "So, how have you been, Renee?"
"Oh, well, I got married, you see."
Christine giggled. "Married? Oh, so you are now a Vicomtesse? Why are you talking to a poor little opera singer such as myself?"
"Poor?" Renee lightly slapped Christine's arm. "You were marvelous! How did you learn to sing like that? You were perfect!"
"See, I have this teacher."
"Oh, really? Who?" Renee asked, her face full of childish curiosity.
"I-I don't really know, actually, remember how father always said he'd send an Angel of Music to me?"
"Of course!"
"Well, see, he calls himself the Angel of Music, he's a magnificent teacher, and such a wondrous inspiration-" Christine was interrupted by a knock on her door.
"Ladies?" It was Renee's husband, Averell. "It's quite late, don't you think-"
"Oh, I do apologize!" Christine cried, jumping up from her chair. "I didn't realize how dreadfully late it was."
"Oh, it's quite alright." Renee smiled, simply happy to have found her childhood friend again. "Why don't you come to dinner with us? We'll treat you-we know this great little place!"
Christine pondered a moment. "Can you give me a moment? The Angel of Music is very strict." She didn't want to risk insulting her Angel.
"Of course," Renee said. She left the room to get her coat and hat.
"Angel?" Christine softly called out to the room.
Erik, who had been hiding behind the mirror the entire time, was suprised that Christine had directly spoken to him. But he was pleased. Christine had performed wonderfully and had truly made him proud, and the girl, the Vicomtesse, what was her name again? Oh, yes, Renee, wasn't a problem for him or his plans. "Christine! The girl poses no problem to me. You may go. But remember, you must always return to me."
"Of course, Angel!" Christine laughed, happy that her Angel wasn't jealous. "Thank you!" And grabbing her coat, she rushed to the door, locked it, and left to find Renee.

Dinner was a pleasant affair, eaten at a lovely little cafe at the corner of the street. Renee and Christine spent what seemed like hours discussing their time together when they were children, and they easily recovered the ease of conversation that they possessed when they were young.
Averell was a pleasant man, mild-mannered and rather gentle. He was a businessman, born into wealth, which when added to Renee's inherited wealth, basically meant the young couple was swimming in money.
However, it soon became late, and Christine wished to get back to the Opera house before it became too late. So bidding Renee and Averell goodbye, with the promise to meet again soon, she rushed back into the Opera, where she realized she had left her necklace in La Carlotta's dressing room.
No matter, she thought, as she had the key. Briefly she wondered if her Angel was there, even at this time.
Pushing the door open, she could see nothing, nor hear anything. Perhaps her Angel was sleeping. But as soon as she lit the lamp, a resounding voice echoed in the small room.
"Christine."
The singer jumped slightly, but relaxed when she realized it was only her Angel. "Oh, Angel, you frightened me."
"I do apologize, dear one. But I see that you have returned. It is well."
"Angel?" Christine's voice was soft. Erik did not respond. She retrieved her necklace from the dresser and turned to go, pausing in the doorframe. "Angel, I hear you, I know you, yet I cannot see you. Angel, please show yourself!"
Erik thought a moment, then went with his instinct. "Dear child, you shall soon know me. I swear, you will know why I hide, why I am in the shadows. Turn your face to the mirror, I am there, inside!"
Christine turned slowly to the mirror, and gasped as she saw a face there. The mirror swung open, as if a door-Christine reasoned it probably was- and there was her Angel of Music, half of his angelic face covered by a white, porcelain mask. When he spoke, it was not like before. It was not a resonating sound, yet it did not sound any less powerful or angelic. It was a soft whisper.
"I am your Angel of Music...come to your Angel of Music..."
And with those words, her Angel enveloped her in his velvet cape and led her through the mirror into his world.

First chapter of my first phanfiction! I'm so proud of myself! *sniff* I'd like to note that this IS NOT RAOUL. It is Raoul how he may have turned out as a girl, equally enthusiastic, equally happy, but just not a romantic rival. Anyway, do you like it? I typed literally about half of this on my phone, my thumb is NUMB, literally. So if you spot any errors, or wish to correct me or offer any constructive criticism, it would be greatly appreciated.
Also, if you want to help me with the story, I'd really appreciate it. You can just message me or something. Thanks.