One heart's darkness
Disclaimer: We all know that I don't own POTO. Wish I did... wish I owned Erik... HE owns me...
Erik (my muse): That's right, I do! (evil laughter) Ok, she doesn't own crap. On with the story.
Me: Oh yes, right. So, POTO belongs to SK, GL and ALW... (too lazy to write those long names)
By the way, I need people's opinion before I continue this story, although it's been festering in my mind for a while now.
I'm sure this idea is not THAT original, but I promise that my OC will NOT be a Mary-Sue. If she does become one, tell me and I shall punjab her! This story is -as mentioned in the summary- based on Susan Kay.
Also, please be patient with me. I'm German, so writing in English is sometimes a bit challenging. And without further ado, I present to you...
Chapter One
His wife's low moans and the midwife's harsh commands were all the Vicomte de Chagny heard from the master bedroom on this stormy winter night. Suddenly, Christine cried out in pain and then the soft cries of a baby could be heard.
Raoul sighed and smiled. The baby had been a month early, he had been afraid it might be to weak and sickly to survive.
But the smile was wiped from his face, when the midwife left the bedroom and hurried over to him.
"What is it?" he asked, concerned. "Is my wife all right?"
"Madame is fine," the plump woman answered, "but she lost consciousness. It is the child, monsieur… it is a monster! I'll leave now. You already paid me and my work here is done…" she crossed herself, "and who knows, maybe I'll be in purgatory for helping this demon girl see the light of day!"
She hurried past the speechless young man who hesitated only a moment before storming into the bedroom. Sure enough, there was Christine, covered in sweat and asleep, but still remarkably beautiful, and there, covered with a baby's blanket was a little squirming someone, who squealed happily, when Raoul picked her up and pulled the cloth from her face.
Raoul whimpered, too, but not happily. This child had not been born early, and it wasn't his! He stared at a miniature version of Erik, at a child's corpse that had started to decay without really dying.
The parchment-like skin was pulled taunt over the high bones, purplish veins were visible at the baby's temple and the sunken eyes, which stared up at the shocked young nobleman with frightening intensity, were a pale golden colour.
After a moment's contemplation, he decided that it wasn't quite as bad as Erik's deformity. The child had a little nose and her lips were of the proper shape, however completely colourless, as deathly pale as the rest of her face.
Christine moved and moaned, and Raoul decided in that moment, that this child should never trouble her. She hadn't seen it yet, nor would she ever.
With strict instructions to the servants to keep the baby's existence from Christine and tell her that it was a stillbirth, he left the house, carrying the deformed girl with him, wrapped in a blanket and fast asleep.
It didn't take him long to hail a carriage to take him to the Opera Populaire which wasn't far from his town house. There, the seething nobleman fumbled with the keys he had kept since the day he had rescued his wife from the Phantom's clutches.
After some time and several wrong turns, he had reached the borders of the underground lake. With a start, he realised that the boat was on this shore and not in the spot where he had left it, which meant that Erik was somewhere around, going about his business.
"Very well," Raoul growled and, gathering his courage again, put his unloved cargo down on the boat's only seat. The child did not stir; it was too tired from the stress of being born.
Then, with one last look, the Vicomte left, preparing to arrange for the burial of an empty coffin and the comforting of his wife.
When Erik returned to the boat half an hour later, the child had woken and screamed its desire to be fed.
Curiously, he picked her up and, upon seeing her face, heaved an anguished sigh.
"Oh Christine," he mumbled, "You do not only look like my mother, do you? You are like her, as well…" With a long finger, he stroked the baby's parchment-like skin. "Did they abandon you, too, my little one? Don't worry; I'll take care of you… Madeleine. You won't shy away from my kisses…"
dbdbdbdbdbdbdb
Eighteen years had passed and it was again the night of the annual masquerade.
Everyone was enjoying the occasion to dress up, hide their faces and walk undetected among friends and acquaintances. Well, almost everyone. A young girl was watching the dancing, twirling couples through the eyeholes of a white satin mask; her golden eyes were filled with a detached sadness.
It wasn't long before she turned away from the bustling activities to seek solace on a deserted balcony. Since she deemed herself alone, she began to sing, in an almost hauntingly beautiful voice that seemed to carry all the sadness of the world.
"Child of the wilderness
Born into emptiness
Learn to be lonely
Learn to find your way in darkness
Who will be there for you?
Comfort and care for you?
Learn to be lonely
Learn to be your one companion
Never dream that out in the world
There are arm to hold you
You've always known
Your heart was on its own
So laugh in your loneliness
Child of the wilderness
Learn to be lonely
Learn how to love life that is lived alone
Learn to be lonely
Life can be lived
Life can be loved alone."
When she had finished the song, her fists clenched in the folds of her dress, almost tearing a hole in the black lace overlay. She expected silence to descend heavily upon her as it always did, but this time, she heard faint clapping behind her. Madeleine whirled around. A girl was standing behind her, dressed, apparently, as a fairy. She was probably fifteen or sixteen and her smile was earnest and polite.
"That was beautiful, mademoiselle," she said, "but very sad. What song was it?"
"None that you would know," Madeleine, who still hadn't caught her breath, replied, "it's… a song my mother used to sing to me… in my dreams."
This piqued the girl's curiosity.
"Why only in your dreams?"
The older girl's hands were shaking know and it was impossible for her to answer, but again, the stranger took matters out of her hands.
"Please, mademoiselle, excuse my manners. I have not introduced myself. My name is Julie Caroline de Chagny, pleased to…"
With a cry of anguish, she shoved past the startled youngster and disappeared into the corridor.
Her fists were rapidly clenching and unclenching. She was torn. Part of her wanted to return to her underground home and into the safety of her father's arms, but another part of her wanted to remain and watch, as this was the only time of the year she got to see her mother, if only from afar. So she decided to stay.
For a moment, she took off the mask to wipe away the tears and then mechanically slipped it back on.
It was not a game for her, not a funny disguise for a masquerade. She wore it always, whenever she left the home beneath the Opera house, for it hid the dead looking face, the curse she had been born with.
dbdbdbdbdb
Christine de Chagny and her husband Raoul found their daughter sitting on the edge of the empty stage, staring out over deserted rows of seats.
The concerned mother sat down next to Julie, who looked sad and brooding.
"What is it, chérie?"
"I met a woman, maman, and…" she sighed, "she sang a very sad song. It made me cry, like I haven't cried since I was a toddler. And that mask she wore… it just didn't feel like a costume."
Raoul knelt down as well. "Is she one of the singers here?"
But Julie shook her head. "No, she is… THERE!" she pointed to the folded curtains excitedly and Christine jumped to her feet, her eyes locking with those of a girl, who stood there as if paralysed.
The Vicomtess felt as if her heart had been dropped into a bucket of ice water.
She had seen a mask like that before and the eyes behind it… she would recognize those anywhere. The girl had recovered from her shock and wanted to run away, Christine's cry of "Stop!" made her pause and turn around, her golden eyes were freezing cold.
"You cannot order me around, madame! You gave that right away, eighteen years ago, along with my infant body!"
Christine's brain was reeling. "What… who are you?"
The girl's scornful laughter filled the stage.
"Oh, so quick to forget the demon you brought into this life? Well, I imagine having a little angel like petit Julie would make you forget hideous Madeleine. Ah, don't worry, Madame la Vicomtess, you left me in the arms of a loving father, I could wish for no better. It was just a little reckless, abandoning a baby in a boat, without knowing when Erik would return! But then again, I don't think you cared overly much whether your oldest daughter, madame, would survive!" She was breathing rapidly now and vicious fires were flaring in her eyes. "And now, madame, I will go back to papa, to my beautiful father, and I will try to forget the ugly woman, who I will now call by the worst insult I can think of: mother!"
She turned and ran, and this time, Christine made no move to follow her. Instead, she turned to her husband.
"Raoul," she began, with a voice that shook with barely suppressed fury, "explain to me how mine and Erik's daughter, who, as you told me, was stillborn, is here at the Opera?"
And Raoul, with a last helpless glance at the ceiling, ordered a wide-eyed Julie to wait for them in the hallway, then he told his wife about a stormy winter night eighteen years ago.
A/N: I know, there will be some people out there wanting to punjab Raoul, and other people wanting to punjab ME for bashing him. That's only this chapter, I promise. This will NOT be a Raoul-bashing fic. I don't even know if I will make this E/C or R/C. What do you think? Any ideas?
Oh, and before I forget, the song was "Learn to be lonely", belongs to... Warner Bros. I guess... it's from the movie (which I loved... GERARD BUTLER, marry me!) and it's sung by Minnie Driver.
I remain your obedient servant
P.F.A.