No red roses
No masks to hide away faces
No opera dresses
No candelabras at dawn
No apples in disguises of shiny red gloss
And most importantly... No singing.
A caged bird, a statue, a locked book... that's what she was in the days leading up to become Countess De Chagny.
The name was still something Christine was getting used to. Such a lavish name for someone not so luxurious.
Yes, she was in fact the new songbird of the theater industry but that didn't make her any more exotic than the rest of the singers and dancers that once belonged to the Opera Populaire.
She had decided to ask for opinions on the last name just to feel a sense of confidence. The managers thought it was a lovely name, Meg smiled with a tinge of sadness and said "it was the name of a shining star", Madame Giry scowled and didn't say a word, and Carlotta... stared at her with the sadness of the whole world.
Christine didn't get why she was doubting it so much. It was just a name... a tittle.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror in front of her, trying to ignore the tugs and pin needle stabs she felt on her legs and arms.
The most beautiful white lace and fabric in all of France rested on her body fittingly, making her look like an angel, and she was overwhelmed by the image in front of her. It was as if Leonardo Da Vinci or Sandro Boticelli had painted her on to a linen canvas. It was magical.
"Miss. Daae"
How was it so magical?
"Miss. Daae.."
Was this true?
"Miss. Daae"
Would it all become a nightmare...?
"Miss. Christine Daae!"
Christine suddenly awoke from her thoughts, tumbling on the bridal pedestal and making all 3 pairs of eyes in the room turn to her. She had been in so much thought that she hadn't seen the Ballet mistress enter through the door. The seamstress held her still and gave a smile to the pale-faced young woman, returning to work on the seams of the wedding gown.
The soprano turned to the woman dressed in her typical black dress. "M-Madame Giry… my apologies, I didn't mean to ignore you..."
Madame Giry's scowl never left her face. "Doesn't matter. I've come to inform you that the Vicount demands for you to return to your bridal room as soon as you finish the fittings... For safety reasons."
Christine looked down to the mistress' feet, comprehending the need but resenting it at the same time. "I'll return as soon as I can..."
The elegant woman nodded with the same face as she had entered, and left the room, closing the door behind her.
The Star returned to her thoughts and something had shifted in them. Something that seemed like rebellion.
"I've told you many times before! I don't want for you to open any windows or doors until our wedding day!"
She shrank on the edge of her bed, watching as her fiancé paced the floor from the window to the door.
"I know Raoul... I just needed a little air... It is suffocating to be in a closed room all day with only the maids appearing now and then."
Christine stood and approached her anxious lover, letting her gossamer gown trace the floor, and grabbing the man's arm. "Look at me for a second..."
The man stared into the woman's eyes and watched them shift from seriousness to eagerness. "I understand you want to get out of the mansion and explore but... there was no body found, not even a piece of bone, Christine! Only a mask!"
He yanked himself away from her grip and continued to pace around the room, staring at each corner. He was watching and revisiting the place mentally, making sure every vent and hole was secured shut before anyone could get in through them.
Christine's lungs felt fast out of air, she couldn't believe the distrust in such a trustful man. The man she had fallen in love with in the attic while her father played the violin, the man who promised to guard and guide her... not keep her trapped like a prisoner.
"Raoul, I don't mean to disrespect but... you're becoming paranoid. You're getting worse than I was at the opera house!"
That was the string that needed to be strung for him to break the wall of anger that was sheltered in his heart.
He pushed a vase that was placed on top of a wooden nightstand in front of him towards the wall, making it shatter into pieces. Then he grabbed the picture frame that was next to it and went to do the same.
Christine launched at his arm before he could break it. "Raoul no!"
It was the only picture of her father that she had in her keeping.
Raoul stopped at her grasp and breathed fast. His eyes lingered in the broken pieces of the vase he had shattered moments earlier and looked back towards his fiancé.
Christine's eyes became foggy, she didn't know what to do or what to say, she only knew that this wasn't her Raoul. "Stop... please..."
The viscount slowly dropped his arm to his side and placed the picture back on the nightstand.
He was turning into the monster he was so paranoid about. He was turning into the phantom.
But the phantom wasn't like this...
He wasn't like this at all...
He was gentle
He was romantic
He let her free in her creativity
He was- wait why was she thinking of a dead man?
Her heart suddenly ached.
Raoul stared at his lover relentlessly and walked towards the door. But before he left he turned towards the singer.
"Remember what I told you..."
Christine lowered her gaze. "Yes... no opening doors, or candelabras, or red roses, or-"
"No singing. We don't want that monster's spirit appearing through your mirror again."
Then he walked through the door and closed it behind him, locking it. Leaving her alone once again.
For the next few days leading up to the wedding Christine followed the same routine: get up, take a warm bath, eat in her bedroom, pace around her bedroom, stare towards the mansion's gardens, wish for freedom, imagine the opera house and hear that wonderful voice...
That voice...
The voice of a suffering man...
A wonderfully hideous face hidden behind a mask...
She paced the floor with the eagerness that her heart tried to liberate from. She was desperate for her wedding day to arrive, to free herself from the grasp of Raoul's paranoia. Christine just wanted to be free.
But Raoul was right. No body was found, only the mask. Not a piece of fabric from his robe, not even a whisper from his notes. All the evidence that proved that the phantom that haunted the, now burned down, Opera Populaire was real.
He could have been a mere vision of panic that every dancer and manager had faced, but she knew it was real. The angel of music was real... and he had ran away from the fire safe and sound... or so she wished from the bottom of her heart.
Him being alive could mean a start to something new. Maybe, if apologies were accepted and forgiveness was a virtue, he could teach her his music and she would listen to all the wonderful notes that came out of his lips. She would hear that man's angelical voice and she would keep it safe within her.
But she knew it would be impossible. Nothing could or would ever be the same again.
He couldn't possibly be alive...
Christine awoke from her thoughts and stared at the rain that poured outside of her window, her eyes lingered on the droplets that slid across the glass pane and wondered of the phantom's state at the moment, if he were to be alive.
Was he hiding away in France, in Italy, in a place far away from her grasp? Was he wearing his beautiful mask or was he out in the open, revealing his wounds from a painful past?
Was he happy?
"Christine?"
At the sweet and fine voice that suddenly filled the air, Christine turned around to find Meg standing at her door. She was in a simple cream colored dress, like the ones Christine used to wear when she was a ballerina. It gave her a bit of nostalgia.
"Meg? How did Raoul let you in here?" The singer questioned it like if it was a miracle. Raoul was so paranoid that she never expected to see her friend again.
"I spoke to him calmly...he was drunk, but he comprehended that I wanted to say my blessings before the wedding..." Meg ran up to her friend and grabbed her hands. "Oh Christine, I'm so sorry that you have to go through all of this!"
Christine smiled tenderly and made Meg sit next to her in bed. "You shouldn't have to feel sorry. I understand where his paranoia is coming from..."
"Still, you shouldn't be the one punished for it. You are not at fault for what happened at the opera house... And you have grown enough to protect yourself from him..."
If she only knew... "Yes but Raoul needs time to heal, and maybe if I follow his demands until our wedding day..."
Meg huffed and let go of Christine's hands, her expression changing from worried to dumbfounded. "Christine, his paranoia won't leave no matter how many rules you follow. The viscount is insane and no insanity would be cured without force!"
"But Meg-"
Meg stood. "You deserve your freedom Chistine Daae! No one should ever hide the real you!"
This new version of Meg surprised Christine. She wasn't that extroverted girl who followed her mother's rules anymore, she wanted to make her own rules. Christine stared at the invisible cuffs around her wrists.
"But how can I do that? How can I break away from his insanity...?"
Meg sighed. "I... Don't know..."
Christine looked away and followed Meg's sigh. She stood and paced the floor once again, watching as the robes followed behind her. Meg was right, she deserved her freedom. No one should keep her enclosed in a luxurious mansion with the excuse of paranoia.
She turned her gaze to Megs robes and then...
"Meg, I have an idea!"
She knew how much silk robes could bother at first or give you goosebumps when it slid across your skin. In exchange, Christine now remembered how much ballerina practice skirts and leotards would itch. She had definitely gained a few pounds after she was chosen to be an opera singer, since the clothes were now an inch tighter. All of these clothes were hidden under her blue cape.
The sky had stopped it's crying and turned into the beautiful night sky that adorned Paris each day. Christine missed those sights. She missed the long walks around the streets and the chirps of birds going to their slumber. She missed the beauty of the outside world.
Christine felt guilty for leaving Meg behind, but her friend comprehended the plan in its entirety: They would exchange clothes for the night and by dawn she would climb up the weeds that adorned the side of her window. If anyone saw Meg leaving Christine's room in the morning they would say that they were enjoying Christine's last day of being a single woman before becoming Countess De Chagny. It was the perfect plan.
When Meg had wondered where Christine would go she had answered her with the cemetery, just to visit her father and ask for advice. The supportive Meg complied to the plan and hid under the sheets of Christine's bed for the night.
Christine turned on the corner towards the cementery but thought about something...
Her father had received her at his grave many times before and she knew he would accept her in there as many times as she wanted. There was another place she had to mourn as well... someone else.
"Sorry father, I have to do something... I'll visit you soon."
She walked past the Cemetery and turned on a corner to see the remains of the Opera Populaire still in their place. Half of the big Theater still stood, the grand staircase still in view. Christine approached the resting place of the person that was once considered a monster. The monster who taught her all of the beautiful songs she once sang.
The monster she kissed goodbye as she was persuaded away from his lair.
Even as his deformity clouded the way people thought of him, she could never forget the softness of his lips an the way he mentioned those last words before she left. The pain in his voice...
She stood in front of what was once the entrance of the Opera House. Memories flooded every inch of her mind, when Madame Giry and Meg accepted her into their care, her first ballet shoes, when Meg pushed her out into the sight of the managers and became the understudy of Carlotta in Hannibal, when Raoul visited her in her dressing room... When the phantom took her to his world of beautiful darkness.
It was nearly midnight and the lights of every building were off, not even a soul haunted the streets, it was all surrounded by the winds of the cold night and its whispers. She was completely alone... but free.
Christine walked towards the grand staircase and stopped at its first step. She let herself sit on it and look around at her old home. Soon she would have to leave the memories of it behind. She would have to accept a mansion as her new home.
It wasn't an unpleasant idea but it wasn't pleasant either.
She enjoyed the silence of the night until it became to unbearable. It was too quiet and without the usual Organ playing its melody she felt the need to fill the space with her own music.
She opened her mouth after what felt like weeks... She felt free.
"Angel of music, guide and guardian.
Grant to me your glory.
Angel of music, hide no longer.
Secret and strange angel..."
Christine couldn't help the tears that streamed down her face or the uncontrollable sniffs that came after. She felt truly alone in this world.
But what she hadn't seen was the hidden figure that lurked in the shadows on the top of the staircase. The man she was mourning for.
Her angel of music..
"Wandering child... So lost, so helpless...
Yearning for my guidance..."
The song echoed through the halls of the remaining pillars of the Opera Populaire. The sweet lyrics reached Christine's ears and made her immediately look up and around for the source, until her eyes spotted the figure emerging from the top of the stairs.
She held her cloak tight, a light fear mixed with hope in her heart. "P-Phantom... Angel?"
The figure made it's way into the light, a look of disbelief in it's features. "It is who you seek... My angel of music..."
Christine stood in her place and stared in the same disbelief as the phantom. Was he a ghost or was he the lie that made her body ache?
When the reflection of the night sky hit the image of a new grey mask Christine couldn't help but gasp.
"I-It is you!"
She felt her legs move in a sudden choreography of back and forth and up the staircase. The figure at the top watched as her cape slid from her hair and presented her face as marvelous and tired as it was. There, the Phantom saw the suffering and the need his love had gone through.
Then, she was in his arms interlacing hers behind his back. He didn't know what to do, he didn't know if to return the favor or not, but he definitely knew that this wasn't a dream.
"Christine... Oh Christine..."
The tears of sadness turned to tears of joy and relief. "I thought you were dead... I thought you were gone... forever..."
His arms came around her back in a tight hug. "I survived the fire... I escaped and made it out alive..."
Christine pulled away from the hug and stared up to the phantom's shadowed features, seeing a new mask in the making resting on the side of his scar. It was obviously a new project.
Christine couldn't hold back the feeling of curiosity that filled her being. She wanted to feel every inch of the material.
Slowly she reached her right hand towards the phantom's face but was stopped by his own hand. "D-don't"
A sudden embarrassed heat flushed Christine's cheeks, she forgot how much he hated his face being touched. "I-I'm sorry. I d-didn't mean to discomfort you."
His face crept closer to hers as he smiled tenderly. "It's ok... I know you mean no harm.."
Christine slowly smiled and stared at his lips. She felt breathless.
He pulled his face away from hers and let go of her hand. "Christine?"
Christine looked away feeling, surprisingly, disappointed. "Yes?"
"Did you really mourn me as much as to make you sing for such a dreadful place...?"
She nodded. "Yes..."
"And how did you get here? Weren't you supposed to be getting... m-married to the viscount?"
Christine nodded once again, this time showing the shiny ring on her left hand. "Yes... But.."
The phantom's eyes lit up with a glint of, what seemed to be, hope. "But what?"
"I realized that... I don't want to anymore..."
"Christine W-why-?"
"He became paranoid that you would appear again so he locked me up in my room until our wedding day! until tomorrow... I couldn't stand it anymore"
Christine's sudden outburst surprised the Phantom immensely. The only time he had seen her like this was when she had told him how much he had betrayed her, but this time it was worse. "He did... what?"
"It felt like forever before I could escape his grasp. It was all thanks to Meg taking my place for the night..."
The phantom's eyes grew wide. "You must return before he looks for you and finds only your friend in that room!"
Christine placed a hand on his chest. "Do not worry, Meg assured me he is drunk and since its night time he must be fast asleep."
"Does she know that you were looking for me?" The phantom looked anxious, making Christine's expression turn to confusion.
"I told her I was visiting my father's grave... As far as I know she is the first one that thinks you're dead."
The phantom looked away, feeling a bit guilty. "Oh..."
Suddenly, warmth surrounded his own hands. Christine had grabbed his hands and brought them near her mouth. "Please let me stay the night... with you..."
An inevitable blush crept the phantom's cheeks hidden away by the mask and the shadows of the night. "You may..."
Surprisingly, a few rooms remained intact in spite of the fire that consumed the majority of the Opera house.
The phantom had taken her to a room decorated with antique wallpaper, dead flowers on a vase and even a small chandelier in the middle. It looked like the room of one of the dressers that always attended Carlotta. To other people the place could look ugly and even terrifying, but for Christine it all looked beautiful.
"Angel-"
"Call me Erik."
Christine tasted the name on her lips. "Erik... Is that your real name?"
Erik walked towards the only vanity in the room and placed his hands on the notes placed on top of it. "Yes. My birth name."
The singer walked towards the large couch placed against one of the walls, taking off her cape and placing it on one of its arm rests.
"Are you staying here?" Her eyes wondered on the other papers placed out on the side and the dark cloak that lay beside them.
Erik glimpsed over his shoulder at Christine and saw her soaked cream-colored garments in sheer light, he couldn't help but feel blood rush rapidly through his body. "N-no, but I've been investigating around here at night."
Christine decided to sit on the couch and, as she wondered around, she caught Erik's gaze creeping over her. At the realization both shifted uncomfortably in their places.
For a night of freedom, she didn't expect all that was happening. She didn't expect to find the ruins of the opera house half-intact, she didn't expect the moonless night and, least of all, she didn't expect to be speaking with the phantom... no, Erik, again.
They both felt the need to fill the silence in the room.
"So-" "Well-"
At the colliding of their phrases, Christine burst out laughing, filling Erik's ears with a sweet sound. He soon followed her laugh with his own.
"Well, I imagine those garments belong to miss Giry?"
Christine blushed. "Yes. We exchanged clothes."
Once again, silence filled the air.
Erik sat on a chair in front of a large broken mirror which created a distortion on the reflection of his mask. He avoided his own gaze but stared at the woman behind him looking out into the night. He looked at every inch of her clothing, it slightly reminded him of her IL Muto costume, when revealing she was actually a 'man' during the opera, but in a very bland color.
It needed something, even of it didn't match.
"Christine."
Christine met his gaze in the mirror and smiled.
"I have something for you... Something that I was meaning to give you when you were dressed in the wedding gown that night."
Her gaze turned to curiosity. "What may it be?"
Erik reached for a vault hidden behind the vanity he stood in front of earlier and took out something very shiny. "If you could please stand in front of the mirror..."
Christine obeyed and walked towards the broken mirror the Phantom sat in front of moments earlier. She caught a glimpse of herself for the first time since arriving. The first thing she noticed was her messy hair, then her damp pants and shoes, and last her, almost sheer, shirt. The blush that had been on her cheeks earlier, returned.
So, that was what he was looking at...
Erik watched Christine as she stared herself up and down, and even noticed the slight blush on her cheeks, unknowing of its real reason. He approached her with the item in his hand.
She watched as he stopped behind her and motioned for her to raise her chin up.
"Close your eyes..."
Christine obeyed. Suddenly, she felt something cold hit the skin on her collarbone, making a shiver run down her back. "A necklace?"
"Not just any necklace... Open your eyes."
As she opened her eyes, she caught a glimmer of a shimmering diamond that lingered on her throat. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
"Angel- I mean, Erik... It's beautiful."
Erik's left hand lingered on her shoulder, making small gentle circles on it. His eyes on her reflection. "Just like you..."
Christine stared dreamily at the phantom's reflection. She couldn't help the new type of shiver that crossed her back and towards her...nether regions.
He caught her stare and noticed the slight glimmer of lust in them. His free hand crept up her arm and made it follow his path. Erik made the hand slowly go up her torso and towards her bosom.
The memory of a pink dress, a black cloak, a shiny red apple and a lustful song made Christine wake up from her trance.
She stopped following his hand before he could reach her breasts, and looked away from their reflection. Christine decided to turn around and face Erik, realizing how close they were.
She could feel his raspy breath on her cheek.
Erik stared down towards Christine, watching her glimmering eyes as they mischievously stared at his chest.
Suddenly, she grabbed the hand where his own ring hung and slowly got it out of his pinky. In exchange, she took off her own ring and placed it to the side.
"Christine, what are you doing-?"
She slowly placed his ring on the finger where the other one used to be. The song of parting from so many nights ago taking flight from her lips.
"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime..."
The phantom's eyes were suddenly filled with involuntary tears. "Christine..."
Their face inched closer, the space between them disappearing. Suddenly, their lips met at the center of space.
Instinctively, she raised the hand with his ring and caressed the masked side of his face. This time he let the warmth of her hand hover over the hardened clay.
Their lips danced in their perfect form, glued together by the gravity of their passion. It was as if the mold was made only for them. When the lovers suddenly ran out of air they let their lips part from their union. A sudden whisk of air was heard from both sides, Christine's hand still in the same place.
Erik's own hands suddenly crept on her waist, turning her around and making her back touch his torso.
"E-Erik?" She stared at the sudden change in demeanor from the man that stood behind her.
"I'll make you sing for me again... and again..." he growled.
Christine's blush turned crimson as she felt his hands suddenly surround her torso tightly, passing them lightly over her bosom. She watched their reflection as Erik placed his head near her neck and suddenly... licked it. It felt as if a lightning bolt had hit Christine's entire body in a flash.
Erik felt Christine arch her back against him and took it as a good sign. He had never made a woman feel good before and he felt strangely confident with the starlet in his arms. He continued to make circles with his toungue around her neck, making her moan lightly.
With every kiss and lick Christine felt as if she was about to burst at any moment.
Slowly, Erik's shaky hand crept even higher and towards one of her breast, while the other traveled lower between her legs. Christine gasped.
"E-Erik!"
The phantom stopped in his tracks and gave a frightened stare at Christine, his smug expression disappearing. "Did I h-hurt you?"
Christine stared at his frightened gaze and smiled comprehensively. "No... it just felt really good..."
Erik's smirk returned. "Hmm... where might that be exactly?"
She looked away. "Well... umm"
The hand that was placed near her hip slowly made its way to the center of her body. "Could it be here?"
He felt her shiver, then proceeded to squeeze tenderly one of her breast's with the other hand. "Or here..?"
The warmth of his hands made Christine wonder how they would feel on bare skin. She wasn't the type to let desire flood her senses but the way he was touching her... made her want more.
"Everywhere... please, just continue..."
"Eager, are we?" Erik's smirk widened.
Subconsciously, Christine arched her back once again, this time feeling something solid hit her lower back.
At the touch, Erik moaned lowly in Christine's ear. "God..."
"Erik?"
Suddenly, Erik fondled with her breast a little tighter and ventured his hand between her legs in a quick sense. Christine closed her eyes tightly and threw her head back against his chest in pleasure she had never felt before.
"It seems that I'm hitting all of the right places..."
He felt proud.
"H-how... ah... where did you learn all this f-from...? Ah!"
"Science, anatomy, erotic literature... all of it" he grabbed the edge of her pants and tugged on them slightly. "May I?"
Christine only nodded. Quickly, she felt a gust of wind hit her legs, giving her goosebumps.
Behind her the phantom pulled her closer, making her feel the mark of his erection in his pants even more. She moaned in surprise.
Erik stared at Christine's face and whispered in her ear, "That's what you do to me Christine. That's what you did to me when you grazed me on the fence of my lair the first time I took you to see it, that's what you did to me when you grazed every inch of my body on that stage unknowing of my identity, that's what you are doing to me now..."
"M-me?"
"Yes..."
He watched her slim legs in the mirror and licked his lips. Then he dove his hand under her lace underwear and towards the wet region between her legs.
"W-Wait!"
Erik stopped in his tracks again. He watched as Christine turned around and shyly placed a hand over his erection, making him shiver in her place.
"I want it... I need it..."
Erik stared at Christine with a mix of shock and lust. "You need it that desperately?"
She nodded, and that was the only motion he needed to proceed to carrying her in his arms and place her on the only couch in the room.
Erik, then sat beside her horizontal body and hovered his face over hers tentatively. "You try... my patience..."
Christine stared into his eyes curiously wondering what else was he capable of doing. She lingered her fingers over the buttons of his shirt and slowly started to unbutton it while still focusing on his eyes.
"I'll let you do anything you want to me... My heart belongs to you my angel..."
Erik placed his lips over hers in a tender and loving kiss, filling the space between them. He helped her unbutton his shirt and took it off of himself to get it out of the way. Then, his hands traveled back to her breasts, playing with the soft skin and making Christine moan through their kiss.
Her own hand traveled down his, fitting torso. He wasn't like many other strong men but she loved the bumps and scars across his skin. Her fingertips met the edge of his pants and pushed it aside to let her get to her destination.
She was shocked to feel the warmth that emanated from his own region. It was the first time she had ever touched one, and she was enjoying every bit of it.
Their tongues met in a formal dance while their touching became more fierce and desperate. Once they separated from their kiss, Erik desperately undid her sheer shirt and shiny necklace, watching as her breast gave a small bounce upon their release.
"Beautiful... wonderful..."
Christine blushed underneath him and looked to the side. "Thank you..."
She watched as his smirk grew, the way he unfastened his pants and got them off of his legs, leaving him completely bare in Christine's sight. She couldn't help but look down to his manhood and let a look of surprise escape her.
It looked... tasty...
Erik's smirk never faded when he saw her staring down shocked at his pride. "Are you still in need?"
"Yes..."
His pointer finger lifted her chin, making her look into his eyes. "Are you really?"
The lust and determination in her eyes surprised him even more. "Yes."
Erik got up from his position and placed himself between her legs. "May I?"
She only nodded, but just as he was about to enter, she stopped him. "Wait."
"Yes?"
Christine placed a hand on his grey mask, imitating his tone. "May I?"
Erik hesitated for a moment but then nodded. Without a thought, Christine took off the mask and his wig in one single motion. She placed her hand on the scar that adorned the side of his face and caressed it tenderly. At her caress he flinched, but slowly the tension went away at her hand.
"Erik... you are beautiful. Please, don't ever doubt it again."
He looked at the beauty underneath him in bewilderment and couldn't help but tear up.
"Christine..."
"Please, my angel, take me... make me yours..."
With that, Erik returned to his mission and entered her slowly. Christine winced at the sudden pain but tried not to show it. Even so, he caressed her cheek lovingly and in comprehension of her pain.
"Tell me when you're ready..."
A few moments passed until Christine's face relaxed and a nod confirmed Erik to keep moving.
He started out slow at first, closing his eyes in pleasure as he felt her walls tightening around him. It was a feeling like nothing he'd ever felt. It was a feeling that made him want to compose music.
And he was... in Christine's moans.
At first they were only inhales and exhales of breath, slowly changing to mewls and then moans that made her body curve against the couch's armrest.
Her moans were his motivation to go faster and faster each time until he felt the need to change their position.
She was so enveloped in pleasure that she didn't realize when Erik carried her back to the mirror and placed her on his lap on the dry floor.
He spread her legs on top of his and raised her hips, aligning himself with her entrance. Then, slowly he entered her body again and again.
The darkness from the outside darkened their features but made their united silhouettes and their every motion reflect on the mirror. It was very... erotic to say the least.
Christine closed her eyes as she felt him go faster and faster with each pounding. It felt excruciatingly good.
"Oh god!" She moaned, grasping on to his thigh.
Erik groaned in her ear and felt himself nearing the edge, but before he could release, he stopped himself and made her get on top of him.
"Now you are the one to take me... do it with all your desire."
Christine smiled dreamily at his words and slowly moved her hips back and forth, quickening the pace with each thrust.
His groans were higher than Christine's moans, meaning that Erik was near his peak and so was she, the rubbing of her clit against his skin had helped her a lot.
Suddenly, their moans intertwined and an explosion of warm liquid filled Christine, making her gasp.
Erik caught his breath as he watched his lover stay still in her position and a deeper blush adorn her features. "I think I may have f-filled you up with my seed..."
Christine blushed. "Your seed..."
Erik got up on his elbows and laughed at Christine's cute expression. She got even more embarrassed.
"And What may you be laughing about, kind sir?" She bluffed and placed her hands on her hips while she still remained in the same position.
"At your expression, madame." Erik followed her sarcasm.
At that both shared a sweet laugh.
Christine got off of Erik and decided to lay next to him on the floor, her curls spread around her head. She felt his gaze on her.
"Christine..."
"Yes?"
"You are the most beautiful woman i've ever seen." He caressed her face, "Thank you for making me the happiest man in all of France."
Christine caressed the hand on her cheek. "No, thank you for giving me an amazing taste of freedom... you make me feel like I could do anything..."
And for a moment she stayed silent until she was certain of her decision.
"Let's get away from here...together."
Erik got up in shock. "What?"
Christine stared with certainty. "I don't want the viscount..." she placed a hand on his wound. "I want you..."
He grabbed the hand where his ring rested and kissed it. "Then we shall leave tomorrow at dawn. No regrets."
"No regrets...and towards a better life." Christine smiled joyfully at his words, hugging him tightly.
Erik's smile faded. "Towards a better life..."
He waited for Christine to fall asleep before he got up from her grasp.
Promises were made but not all of them could be fulfilled... The promise of a better life was impossible if it meant being with him. He was only a monster and he couldn't rot such a beautiful rose... He wasn't going to.
Slowly, he stepped towards the pile of clothes that lay beside the couch and grabbed the ones that belonged to him, putting them one by one gently. He truly didn't want to leave, but he had to.
He watched as Christine's chest heaved up and down in a deep slumber, enjoying the last images he would ever have of her before he left.
As he approached the door, he saw a glimmer of gold creep from her hand on the edge of his sight: his ring. For a moment he thought of leaving it as a keepsake for her but then remembered Christine mentioning Raoul's paranoia. If he saw her hand with a new ring he would definitely become insane, he would never let her out of his sight.
Gently, he lifted her ringed finger and took off his ring. Guilt consumed his insides.
Here he was making promises and then breaking them like if it were a piece of paper.
Erik grabbed her cloak from the couch and placed it over her sleeping body. His eyes roamed over her face, contemplating it for the last time. He leaned over her face for a second, hearing her low breaths escape from her slightly parted lips. Then he placed his lips on her forehead.
He retrieved his new mask and wig. Then he slowly made his way to the exit of the room, looking back over his shoulder and fighting the guilt that crept in his heart. A sweet melodic answer tinging the night.
"Say the word and I will follow you..."
9 months later-Paris
"Countess De Chagny, look at the camera!"
Flash!
A giant puff of smoke emerged from the artifact in front of Christine. It was something she had seen once in one of the Opera Populaire's productions for publicity. In the picture she was dressed like a 1400's Noble while Meg was in the center of it dressed as a heartbroken bride: Giselle.
She smiled slightly at the camera, hiding her discomfort caused by the tight corset and large green gown that the publicists made her wear for the exclusive pictures.
The photographer changed the panel and got his equipment ready once again.
"Now, turn slightly to the side."
Flash!
Suddenly, at the sound of the camera going off a baby's cry filled the room. Christine swayed back and forth, shaking gently the bundle in her arms.
"Shhh... don't cry Gustave..."
The child in her arms was only a few days old. A little doll of pink flesh and fragile bone with a head full of black hair.
"Maybe he's hungry?" Raoul leaned over her shoulder and looked at the child between her arms.
"Probably."
The photographer smiled at the tender scene and left the couple to their own privacy. "That would be all. Thank you for your acceptance."
The couple smiled at the photographer and thanked him for his services.
Once they were all alone, Raoul pushed aside Christine's skirts and sat beside her on the elegant couch. "It's so strange, how much hair he has and how dark it is..."
Christine kept her gaze on the baby, not daring to look at her husband. "My father used to have a lot dark hair, he definitely got that from him..."
Raoul placed a hand on Gustave's head and smiled. "What a wonderful child we made. He is the most perfect human I've ever seen."
Christine looked at the viscount and gave the most genuine smile she could. "We definitely did..."
Their lips met in a sweet union, not passionate or interesting, just sweet. Christine was the first to part from the kiss.
She kept swaying the child, when one of their maids entered the room. "Viscount, a Telegram has been sent to you by Mr. Jacques Bouhy."
Raoul stood up and nodded. "Finally! I was waiting for his call!" He turned towards his wife and smiled, "I'll see you both at dinner, this telegram is very important."
"Don't worry, love. Take all the time you need..."
Raoul smiled in reply and left the room in a hurry, leaving his wife with the fuzzy child.
Christine continued to rock the child back and forth, but then decided to follow Raoul's guess and feed the child. She undid a side of her gown's blouse and revealed her breast to feed him.
Once he was latched he stopped his crying.
"There... you were only hungry. So much of a fuss."
The newborn opened his bright eyes and stared up at his mother with curiosity. It was as if a halo surrounded her head.
"You have the most amazing eyes...Full of intelligence..." her gaze turned sad. "Just like your father..."
She looked past the newborns face and stared at the shiny metal in her finger, feeling empty despite its heavy pearls.
"You are the wonderful result of a broken promise..."
She saw his ring on her finger, a beautiful ring of simple gold.
The rise of a new day peeked through the windows.
The light signaled the space where Christine lay and saw the empty space beside her.
"Erik?"
Her eyelids felt heavy. Christine had awakened almost immediately when the slight heat of the rising sun hit her face.
"Erik...?"
Silence answered her calls, her voice echoing in the room.
He must be outside, waiting for me.
She slowly pushed aside her cloak and made her way towards the rest of her clothing that were laid on the couch. She put each piece of her clothing back on her body, her legs aching from the actions committed hours before.
Christine blushed as she remembered the bliss of feeling him near her... Inside her.
As the edge of the sun began to peak it's edge, the starlet ran to the exit of the room, anxious to leave in Erik's arms. She reached the top of the staircase here they had met at midnight, looking around for any trace of the phantom.
"Erik?"
Once again, not even a whisper seemed to answer.
He couldn't have left me, could he?
She wondered the ruins of the Opera house in disdain, looking out like a hawk for any glimpse of a black cloak, vest or a porcelain mask. But as she grew restless she realized that she was completely and utterly alone.
"He couldn't have... He promised me..."
She then remembered the ring on her finger, the evidence of their promised love, but when she brought her hand up to her sight, she found that only flesh of her own was in the space that once was filled with gold.
It was there... It wasn't an Illusion!
"No..." She stumbled back. "No. No. No!"
Tears came out like a river, the tears of pain that had followed her when first arriving to the ruins, before seeing the Phantom's figure.
She could only run back to the room where they had once been. As Christine pushed the furniture and broke every vase in the room, trying to find even the slightest of evidence to gain her hope, she stumbled upon a ray of shiny metal on the vanity that the phantom once sat on.
It was the engagement ring she had come with. Raoul's ring. Next to it a beautiful red rose with black lace tightened around it.
The phantom's goodbye.
"W-why...?" Christine fell on her knees in front of the vanity, painful pants escaped her lungs and a stream of tears traveled down her cheeks. "You promised me... You promised me... You promised me!"
And the dawn that seemed bright turned dull and foggy in her eyes. The cloudless sky hearing her dreadful screams.
On the day of her wedding, Christine successfully returned to the mansion without getting caught. To her surprise, she found that Meg had left her room, in her place a simple note lying on the bed. When Christine read it, she noticed the messy and hurried writing that notified her that Meg had left because of an accident at the new theater with Madame Giry. At the end of the note her friend wished her the best on her wedding day.
It seemed more of a farewell than a see you later.
The ceremony proceeded at sunset, where all of Raoul's close friends and family made obvious attendance. After the vows, their lips united in a soft clash of love. Something Christine didn't feel deep in her chest.
She glanced at the crowd and faked a bright smile, searching for her dearest friend or her mother-like figure, but their seats remained empty.
That night, when the wedding was over, Raoul was too drunk to even walk, meaning that Christine had to help him up to their new room as husband and wife.
Those tittles seemed bitter in her mouth.
So when, many months later, they received the news of her pregnancy it was easy to lie to him by saying that their wedding night was the one of their union. That Raoul was the father.
When in reality he had fallen asleep the moment he hit the bed beside her.
Christine awoke from the dreadful memory.
Gustave had fast fallen asleep while he was still latched to her breast. His pink face was adorned with the expression of peace.
His mother watched his face lovingly, tracing a finger over the pieces of hair that rested on his forehead.
Christine whispered to the silent living room. "Erik... Where could you be?"
Her eyes shifted to the small birth mark on the right side of the newborn's face.
Many nights later-Coney Island, New York.
Somehow, they had found a place to stay in the slumps of Coney Island. Well, actually, the Giry's had found the place where they could call, for now, their home. He couldn't figure out the magic that they had done to get their small apartment.
Many months had passed since he last saw Paris.
Many months since he last saw Christine...
The guilt of leaving her on the floor of that room in the Opera Populaire still tamed his chest. Even when he slept in the most comfortable of beds, she would appear in his dreams. It was the torture he had to endure for what he had done.
Erik scrambled a pencil over a deteriorated piece of paper that he had found on the streets. The scribbles were becoming a big street full of bizarre and wonderful structures, a circus in it's center.
He drew with the dim candlelight placed by the side of the broken table. The night accompanied him in his silent room, a moonless sky through his broken window. Outside, the people muttered in drunken words and phrases.
He had soon discovered that America wasn't all that of the dream that they made it to be...
But Coney Island was an exception, it was the land of freaks and wonders... like him.
Beyond the door, a cursed whisper could be heard, followed by the sudden clank of something hitting a metal tin.
"That ungrateful brat!"
The phantom jumped at Madame Giry's sudden outburst, unsure of the reason of her anger. He made his way for the door and opened it just enough to see the old hall of the apartment and a figure picking up something from the trash.
"How dare she do this..." Madame Giry growled.
A soft voice followed behind. "But it's just a-"
"It doesn't matter, Meg! She betrayed us all, and even more so..." the madame panted. "All that we did for her..."
Once again, Madame Giry threw the object that was in her hand back in the trash can.
"Mother..."
"Let's go to bed Meg... We have a long day of conquering tomorrow", her footsteps slowly became distant.
"Yes... Mother..." Meg followed behind.
Erik waited for the mutters and shadows of his female companions to disappear before he made his way out of the room and into the empty space. The trash can shone bright with the night sky, making the phantom curious of what might be the source of Madame Giry's fury.
A crumpled piece of newspaper peeked out of the can, an image distorted in its wrinkles. Erik slowly grabbed the paper and softened all its crooked edges. The image slowly came to view...
His heart sank.
The De Chagny's welcome a new heir to the family. The Viscount, Raoul De Chagny, and the famous soprano singer, now Countess, Christine Daae, present their healthy newborn to the world. A new light months after the tragedy that struck their careers in Paris: the fire of the Opera Populaire.
In the image, a very vibrant Christine in a green gown sat on an elegant couch, staring down at the bundle in her arms, the viscount, with a serious expression, by her side.
"Christine... Angel of music..." He tightened his fist around the edges of the paper, "my angel of music..."
Erik felt his heart clench in pain. This is what he deserved for promising her something he could never do.
But now...she seemed happy. She had a family...
A child… fathered by the most gullible man he had ever met.
He was about to rip the paper apart, when he stared at the image of the elegant Christine and remembered her words. Her choice.
"Let's get away from here... together."
"I don't want the viscount... I want you."
"Christine..."
He stared at the picture once more and started to rip apart the edges around Christine and the child, tearing the image of Raoul into pieces. Erik rushed back to his room and placed Christine's picture beside the drawing on the crooked table. Then, he turned the deteriorated page on its back and began writing a new set of notes, a new song.
"We will meet again someday, my angel. And when that moment comes..." He looked at his reflection on the only mirror in the room, "I'll fulfill your promise and stay by your side forever...Our love will never die."
Hello! Finally jumping into the POTO/LND boat and boy do I love this fanbase!
This is the longest one-shot lemon I have written so far, which shows how much I love these two as a couple.
If you noticed, there are some puns here and there, and also a reference to another tragic Broadway musical by Mackintosh. Comment down below if you noticed which one I mean. ;)
Either way, I hope you enjoyed this lemon as much as I did writing it!
Please like, follow and review! :3
-Lov3321