Fallen Embers
Disclaimer: I own nothing…all characters belong to Andrew Llyod Webber's 2004 movie version of The Phantom of the Opera.
Sudden bursts of orange and red were painted across the gray sky as the morning sun reclaimed her rightful place from her cousin of the night, and bathed the vast garden in golden light.
Fresh dew lingered and sparked like fine diamonds on the crimson petals of spring's first rose; the only sign of life, of beauty in the barren winter abused countryside. The last of the fallen snow shown brightly in the early light, and the icicles hanging from the naked trees dripped slowly, already beginning to melt. Birds chirped merrily as they woke from their deep slumber, their beautiful song floating gracefully on the wind.
She watched from the patio of her husband's home as the world came back to life. A soft spring breeze blew through her silver curls and brought chills to her brittle skin. Her eyes, now sunken and dull, blurred with unshed tears as a cold truth echoed in her heart; as life was being once more restored to the emptiness left by winter's cruel grasp, hers was soon to end.
She seemed to relax at the thought of the eternal sleep so near, in truth, she had wished for that peaceful release long before now.
Many years had passed since her days of innocent youth, her days as Prima Donna, and since a genuine smile had graced her lips. She had long ago chosen a life of leisure, wealth, comfort, and safety. She had married a well-respected aristocrat and had given birth to three beautiful children. This was the life that any woman should dream of having, and yet it seemed to suffocate her.
By no means was her husband cruel to her, he had loved her and tried so very hard to make her happy; so for his sake, and that of their children, she had tried. She called on everything she had ever learned on stage to better portray that of a happy woman, and for a moment she nearly believed it herself. But, as time wore on, the youthful fire in her large brown eyes flickered and died. The feeling of crushing loneliness and emptiness drowned the life from her slowly over the years. She was but a shell of her former self, a porcelain doll that smiled, nodded, and laughed when society deemed appropriate.
Tears gathered in her tired eyes once more and fell freely down her time ravaged face as she thought back on her life. Most of her memories were fleeting and out of focus, perhaps due to old age or suppression, she knew not, nor did she care.
Her wedding had been large and beautiful, with most of Paris in attendance. Her husband was the very essence of happiness and she, outwardly, the perfect blushing bride. The details of the ceremony eluded her, she could only remember feeling as if something were wrong.
Her life after marriage seemed to pass her by while she only watched with a strange detachment, as if she were watching another's life from a distance. The days found herby the window or in the gardens staring off into space, her eyes empty, void of any emotion. She seemed, to all those around her, like a princess in a tall ivory tower…they could see her but no one could reach. Nights, however, were vastly different.
The house was filled with the screams and sobs of the young Vicomtess as her dreams clawed at her heart.
Her life remained as such for many years, and not even the birth of her children could save her. Make no mistake, she loved her children as any mother should, but for all their smiles and laughter, there remained a hole which they could never fill. She wandered through her life without really living it, without giving to her family the love they so deserved.
Her mind continued to stumble through the dark bleakness of her memories until those of her Angel crept through the shadows and overcame her, bringing a long forgotten smile to her lips.
*****memory****
"Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation, darkness stirs, and wakes imagination, silently the senses, abandon their defenses…"
He sang to her of love, music, passion, and beauty. His words and voice enveloped her, the rest of the world fading away, no longer important. He was breathtaking…she couldn't take her eyes off him. His entire body oozed confidence, pride, and power; yet in his eyes, all the sadness of the world, pleading eyes that both threaten and adore. A part of her was frightened by the sheer amount of love that shone from those emerald depths, but she also saw the loneliness and pain that he desperately tried to mask. She longed to ease his heart and show him that he was all she needed, all that she had ever wanted.
****end memory ****
Grief wracked her body as she found herself once again at her husband's home. She cried for the lost chance of love with her Angel, for the destruction of the opera house, for the lives lost in the fire, for the horrible decision she had been forced to make, for leaving him, for marrying Raoul, for being a terrible wife and mother, and for him.
She remembered with vivid clarity the day she got the news. All of Pais had rejoiced as they read the headlines…
****memory****
'His Reign Has Ended
Phantom of Opera Found Dead!'
Ice flowed through her veins and her heart shattered as she collapsed to the floor. She screamed, her crystal soprano voice, his creation, piercing the silence of the early morning, anguish combining with angelic beauty. Her screams faded into tears until there were no more to shed.
****end memory****
The man she thought could never die had been dead almost fifty years, and even after all this time, the pain had never eased.
"Christine?" Raoul's voice, cracked with age and sickness, floated through the open doors to the patio. She closed her eyes as her husband called to her, pulling her mind from her Phantom. She did not answer, not trusting her voice to hide the tears.
"Christine, Christine!" He shouted, becoming worried when he received no reply.
"Christine…" A soft whisper echoed Raoul's cries.
Her eyes shot open and looked up to find him standing before her, just as handsome as the last time she had seen him. His eyes glimmered beautifully behind the ivory mask and he stretched out his arm offering her his black, leather clad hand. Her heart began to race as it had the night he first came to her in the dressing room so many years ago. She reached for him, needing to know he was really there.
"Christine!" Raoul's voice was so close she dare not turn around for fear her Angel might disappear. She smiled as their hands met and he pulled her close, the warmth of his body chasing away the chill of the morning. Raoul burst through the doors and onto the patio but he was too late, she was with her Angel now, as she always should have been, and now nothing could tear them apart.
Author's note: I am a die-hard Erik and Christine shipper, this is not the end…so no hate mail lol. I would really love to know what you guys think before I add the next chapters though. Thanks :)