Not Like This!
A/N: I'll have to give partial credit to my dad. He said something that gave me this idea.
Christine slumped her shoulders with unabated frustration as the hoof beats from behind reached her ears. She fixed a glare on her face and whirled around to see her bloody pathetic knight in not-so-shiny armor. This was starting to get annoying. She could take care of herself, especially where Erik was concerned. But the Vicomte always got in the way.
"Christine! This man, this thing is not your father!" Raoul screeched, unsheathing his rapier.
Christine rolled her eyes.
"As if I couldn't figure that out myself," she thought.
Raoul lumbered up the icy stone steps of the crypt. He jumped somewhat, startled, like a bunny rabbit that's been scared by a fire breathing dragon (though a bunny rabbit is much cuter when doing so), as Erik leaped artfully down from the snowy roof, his cape billowing in the frosty wind.
Christine swooned.
Raoul thrust out his blade in a very inexperienced way, nearly missing his foot. Erik smirked and stabbed forward, just as Raoul fell off the side of the crypt into the snow.
Christine watched fixedly for the next few minutes as the two men took swipes at each other. She sighed happily when Erik's blade slashed Raoul's arm, dying the shirt around the wound a sickly red.
The fight went on.
Christine's eyes widened as Erik's blade fell from his hand. He tripped, and Raoul stood over him, smirking. He held the tip of his blade just over Erik's heart.
Christine knew it was time to intervene.
"No Raoul! No. Not like this!"
Raoul flipped his head around in awe as Christine stepped closer. In a flash of movement, Christine had wrenched the rapier from his grip.
Christine's eyes took on a maniacal glint.
Raoul stepped back slowly.
Christine smirked and lifted the blade above her head.
"Like this," she said sweetly, bringing it down in one fluid motion.
Erik and Christine lived happily ever after.