Author's Note: Hello everyone! I've decided to start a Snow White and Phantom of the Opera crossover fic, since I believe it hasn't been done before. I've been thinking it through, and the Snow White fairy tale will actually work pretty well using Phantom characters. Beauty and the Beast, of course, would have been the easiest, but unfortunately that's been done already, and I didn't want to seem like I was stealing her idea. So, alas, I bring you Fairest of Them All! I hope all of you enjoy this story!
Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom of the Opera or Snow White!
Famed is thy beauty, Majesty. But hold, a lovely maid I see. Rags cannot hide her gentle grace. Alas, she is more fair than thee.
Now, on to the story...
All commotion had stopped at once in the Opera House when the front doors burst open. The actors stopped rehearsing their lines, Joseph Buquet quit his taunting of the ballerina's, and the ballerina's themselves stopped prancing about the stage. There was only one person who had such power over the occupants of the Opera House, aside from the Opera Ghost. She was back.
"Where are my managers?" Carlotta asked impatiently to the already angry ballet mistress, Madame Giry. Not only had the ballerina's been particularly disobedient nowadays, but now this bellowing diva had to intrude on her own classes! Although, the woman had to remind herself, Carlotta never had much sense to begin with.
"Monsieur's Firmin and Andre are in their office. They have received yet another letter from the Opera Ghost requesting his long overdue salary. It seems these new managers don't know how to run the house as easily as Lefevre could." Madame Giry chuckled to herself and her eyes briefly peered up towards the rafters before addressing Carlotta again. "Miss, I must advise you, this is not the perfect time to talk with Firmin and Andre. They are in a bit of a mess."
Carlotta raised a hand to silence her, "Be quiet! I will do as I wish around here! Apparently there is a new prima donna, no?"
Madame Giry raised an eyebrow, not appreciating the way she was being treated, "Do you speak of Christine Daae? She's not anywhere close to prima donna standards, but she does have the voice, Carlotta, and that's all it takes for the audience to love her." Madame Giry smiled, more to herself then anyone else. "She's definitely on her way to reaching her dream."
"Her dream? Oh, we'll see about that! This good for nothing wrench isn't going to steal the spotlight right from under my nose!" Carlotta stormed off towards the manager's office, all the while screaming their names.
"Well, what do I know? I only teach young girls to dance," Madame Giry fumed before walking off herself in a huff.
"Not exactly the perfect way to welcome Carlotta back!" a ballerina declared, who had witnessed the row, and several others giggled along with her.
"Silence!" Madame Giry announced. "As you were!" The ballerina's sighed, their brief minute of excitement taken from them, as they finished up rehearsals for the upcoming production, supposedly Christine Daae as the lead role.
Carlotta burst through the two doors, Firmin nearly dropping the letter from the loud intrusion. Upon seeing who had just entered, both men cried, "Carlotta!"
"We thought you had left for good after the incident with the...well, you know," Andre said, not daring to mention the prop that had fallen on Carlotta the day before she was to sing in Hannibal.
"I can not believe this! You have replaced me with that Daae girl!" Carlotta screeched, sounding awfully like a dying bird.
"La Carlotta, you must understand! Without the voice of Miss Daae, we would have had to cancel! You had left us with no other choice!" Firmin replied, careful not to make the diva angry, but obviously that was impossible.
"So, are you saying this is all MY fault?" Carlotta's temper was rising every second, her face now turning a dangerous shade of red.
"Of course not!" both managers stammered.
"And do I even have to ask who will be the soprano in the next production?"
"Our one and only diva!" Firmin held out his arms in a mockingly loving manner, dropping the letter with the notorious red wax seal on his desk. He would have to deal with that later on.
"Se, se! These types of things will never happen again, am I understood?"
Andre bit his lip, but said, "Absolutely not!"
Carlotta sighed, pleased at how the way things were already going her way so quickly. "Get my doggie! Bring my doggie to me! I trust you haven't replaced her as well?"
Andre turned to Firmin once the spoiled woman was out of earshot and whispered, "What are we going to do, Firmin? Miss Daae was what brought in the cash! Parisian society loved the new soprano! What will they think now that La Carlotta is back?"
Firmin furrowed his brow, looking down at the letter still lying on his desk, "Better yet, what will the Opera Ghost think of all of this? I'm afraid to say this but, Christine Daae is going to have to be our new soprano, whether Carlotta likes it or not. She might attempt to leave again, but it's clearly going to end better than under the wrath of the Opera Ghost."
Christine sighed as she heard the yelling of an all to familiar diva that decided to return at the perfect moment. She lit a candle above her father's picture, drowning out the ruckus occurring in the rest of the House. She sat on the stone floor of the tiny chapel, remembering the story her father had told her so many years ago as he lay dying. The story of the Angel of Music. Christine was supposed to be working on costumes at this time, especially finishing up the one dress which ripped during the production last night, but she decided to take a break and pay a visit to her father instead. She hadn't done so for a long time it seemed.
Christine folded her hands in her lap and gazed into the portrait of her beloved Papa, wondering if he really ever intended to send her the angel he promised. She was never visited by anything unusual she imagined an angel to look like, but at times she did hear a voice that would sing to her as she drifted off to sleep, and when she began to dream, he was always there watching over her like a guardian angel.
She remembered the first time she had ever heard his voice, being one of the first nights she had stayed in the Opera House, clearly as if it was just yesterday. The voice was so soft and gentle, that she felt as though she would weep for joy at the sound. Surely angels would not visit mere mortals such as her! She never really expected one to come. But when she heard the disembodied voice, she knew that it was no normal human voice. It must truly have been heaven-sent.
And whenever she heard that sweet melodic tenor again she sighed, for it was like the memory of her father coming back. But when she tried to call out for the angel who owned this voice to speak with her or to hold her, it would immediately stop its sad song and disappear. She was never given the chance to sing along with him, to share in his glory, possessing a voice that was molded by God's hands himself.
Christine tore her eyes from her father's portrait and glanced upward, as though she might spot the winged messenger. But finding nothing, she drew her gaze back down. "Angel, why do you not show yourself?"
Christine didn't expect an answer. On rare occasions did she actually speak with the angel. She was just preparing to leave when a voice that had remained silent all day suddenly filled her senses.
"You do not need to see me."
"But I do! I wish to see the angel that my father sent me," she cried out, overjoyed that she could hear his voice once again.
There was a pause before the voice sounded. "You are not alone, Christine. I am watching over you." The sound of her name on the angel's lips was beyond description. Tears sprang to her eyes but she fought them back.
With that said, he began to sing a song very familiar to Christine. It was one her father once sang and that the angel learned when Christine would sing it to herself on countless of sleepless nights. His voice was heartbreaking in its soaring heights and baritone lows. It was so incredibly beautiful that she found herself weeping because of the sheer beauty of the song.
Then, she heard his voice as he commanded her to sing. How could she refuse such a demand? How could she disappoint her angel when he had poured out his soul?
Her angel's voice suddenly entwined itself with hers. Joined together in unison, their voices soared to incredible heights. Strange, she thought coherently for a brief moment, how easy it is to sing, as though the words were made only for us.
The song ended and she was filled with a feeling of warmth and comfort. Christine sat very still, awaiting his response. There was a long silence when the voice did not answer and she began to worry that the angel was gone. But soon his beautiful, deep voice sounded again, in a tone far more gentle than Christine would have expected. "You have been blessed with a gift. You must develop this gift. It was not given to you to squander."
Christine smiled in gratitude. She would never have thought that an angel would be appreciative of her voice. It was an honor to hear these words from him. But something still tugged at her heart.
"Angel, please, show yourself to me. I need someone...real. Please," she cried, a tear slipping from her eye. There was no response. But suddenly, the candles blew out in the chapel. Christine's eyes were closed as the room dimmed, but she could feel a slight breeze on her skin. She felt a hand touch her face, rather a gloved hand, and wipe the tear from her cheek. Christine gasped with excitement and fear, but as quickly as it had been there, the presence was gone.
Author's Note: In the first scene of Snow White, the Queen asks the mirror who the fairest one of all is and she is told it is Snow White, thus making the Queen jealous.
The second scene in Snow White is when Snow White heself is sitting on the steps of her home working, when she decides to walk over to the Wishing Well and begin to sing. The Prince arrives and sings along with her for a time and they begin to fall in love. The Queen is witnessing this, but in my story, Carlotta won't be aware of the Angel of Music.