Here is my very first story! Hurrah!

This is being posted only because bwayphantomrose, who is like the best big sister I never had, is making me post it. She's co-writing it with me, so this is just as much her story as it is mine. Plus, she lets me come to her apartment and jump on her bed! Yay! So, this is dedicated to her.

I guess this is mostly Leroux-based. It's pretty dark, not fluffy. I enjoy the darker romance of Erik and Christine, and think it's much more fun to read than their instant happy ending. There's always a conflict. That's my motto. ;-)

Anyway, enjoy! Review for my first story, please?

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Today, I have made my choice. I stand before the man I have chosen, and he smiles down upon me, his hand held out as I step the final step and face the priest before me.

Raoul stands in pale blue, a color I chose for him, a color that brings out the lighter blonde streaks in his hair and the creamy color of the ocean in his eyes. His hand is not nearly as sweaty as mine is, sheathed in white lace that covers my fingertips to my toes.

Everything is how I wanted it. It is just after midday, so that streams of spectacular light shine through the stained glass windows over the pews. The flowers I chose are pink and yellow, and the ribbons covering every decorative surface are a shiny hue of crystal white. With Raoul in his blue sailor's outfit, and I in the white dress, we are the perfect picture of cheeriness.

I tell you, it is perfect.

Everything is said appropriately. Everything is planned, to the last little hesitation before the final vows. I make sure to exaggerate every word, so that there is nothing but faith and trust in every utterance of my love.

Afterwards, Raoul and I walk hand in hand down the aisle, while everyone claps and smiles. We stay outside to celebrate, where a small tent has been put up for us. I dance, first with Raoul, and then with his father, and then with his niece, and then with his cousin… It seems that I dance with everyone in his family and every one of his friends, laughing and chatting all the while.

I bask in every minute of it, flushing when appropriate, telling all how happy and blessed I am, bubbling with romantic whims at every turn.

When the sun starts to go down in the late afternoon, I seek out Raoul in the swarm of people, and he smiles at me gently. Together, we make our way down the path from the church while everyone cheers for us. At the edge of the path, where the burnished carriage is waiting for, he sweeps me off my feet and kisses me in front of everybody. He laughs, I laugh—everything is very gay and light. There is more cheering as he pushes me gently into the carriage. He darts in for another kiss and I blush appropriately as appreciative whoops fill the air.

I know exactly where we are going. It is his cousin's guesthouse, slightly removed from the city limits of Paris. His cousin is in Germany for several weeks, and graciously offered us the place to… explore each other.

His words, not mine.

In the carriage, I grow nervous. My silky dress makes my skin grow very warm. I watch Raoul's back and he continues to wave goodbye to the rest of his family, before hopping in beside me. The light romanticism of earlier is fading, and I do not want that.

He turns to me at once, and he looks a little sheepish. "That was fun, no?"

I nod.

He gives a brief chuckle before awkwardly clasping my hand in his own as the carriage starts to move. "This.. This place is not very far. Only a few minutes. It's very nice, very secluded. You'll love it."

I do not say anything, but I feel my face grow even warmer.

Perhaps Raoul really is just as nervous as I am, for he falls silent for the rest of the way, and my thoughts wander to everything I have heard about what is supposed to happen between a man and a woman.

When we arrive, he holds the door open for me. We are, in every sense, the model of a young and nervous newlywed couple. Completely innocent in the ways of the flesh, we are only counting upon each other to take the final steps to consummate our marriage. These final thoughts as a young virgin bang around my head with every step I make.

This isn't how I wanted it. I wanted everything to stay deliriously light and domestic, and this is going down a path I am not thrilled to take.

I begin to babble mindlessly, trying to throw off this dreadful surge of nervousness. "What a pretty little area this is in! Did you know, I never, ever left the opera, not even when it was nice out? Sometimes the ballerinas would all go to the café together, but not I, I always stayed indoors and would read a book or practice my music! So there is so much of Paris that I have never even ventured to—like all these trees! Why, I've never seen so many trees before? Have you? Raoul? Raoul?"

He takes my arm and carefully pulls his own arm around my waist to lead my up the small pathway. Panic overtakes my tongue and fall silent as he opens the front door and leads me in.

"I am nervous," I state blindly.

He only squeezes my shoulders in reply.

It is very cold inside. Raoul instantly rushes to go light the oven stove. Although I can still feel the chill through my many layers of white, I am beginning to sweat again.

Very carefully, he leads me upstairs. "Christine," he says in a very gentle voice. "I love you so much… My wife. This is not something to dread. "

I can barely smile at him, and although I am prepared for what is to happen next, I am not looking forward to it.

This is not how it should be.

He has been prepared as well, obviously… As he opens the door, the covers are pulled back. There is a faint scent of perfume lingering in the air. Dozens of soft pillows line the space between the bed and the wall.

My stomach turns over. I cannot decide if this is better or worse.

I wanted everything with Raoul to be blissfully sweet and light. This next, required step in our realtionship will go against everything I have hoped for us. This is something that adults do, and I do not want to be an adult with Raoul. I love him very much, and I am honored to be his wife... But I do not want this with him.

I do not wish to recollect the next few hours—the first few hours of my time as a married woman. All I can say is that it was very uncomfortable, and most certainly painful. We spoke often, interrupting each other, to request that the other stop, or move… We did not continue for very long, but eventually rested, both staring at opposite sides of the room. It was not what I had wanted, and yet, it was everything that it had needed to be.

It was not like the stories I had heard at the Opera. I did not one thing that the girls had often spoke of doing with their lovers. Raoul did not one thing that they had often spoke of their lovers doing to them. I did not feel anything that I had been expecting to feel. What was it, then, that we had done?

It was awkward bumbling of two children.

And it was most definitely not love.

.....

Please review? More to come soon!

This will be EC.... but it will be very strange EC, as you will find. Christine is a peculiar character in this story. You'll see.