Three
Her father has been away for two days when Christine learned that something had gone horribly, horribly wrong. On that second morning, she had started by tending to the horses, and her day had drastically improved from there. Monsieur Lefèvre has come by himself to tell her good news. Wearing a large smile, he said, "Congratulations, Mademoiselle. You have been cast in the ensemble of Hannibal." Under normal circumstances, Monsieur Lefèvre informed her, he would not have come personally and would have instead called her to the Opera Populaire but given the extraordinary circumstances of her audition and her relationship with Raoul, he had wanted to go that extra mile for her. It was only a few moments after Monsieur Lefèvre had returned to the opera house that Raoul arrived, carrying with him a bouquet of red roses, Christine's favorite flower.
"Good morning, Little Lottie," he called to her from the back gate.
She grinned when she saw him, racing to meet him. "I've been cast in Hannibal, Raoul! They liked my audition!"
"Of course they did!" Raoul exclaimed as he gave her a bear hug, lifting her off the ground and spinning her in large circles. They both laughed as Raoul let himself fall to the grass, Christine landing on top of him. She smiled down at him, and he up at her. Deciding that the farm chores could wait, Christine led Raoul into the kitchen where he sat at their table.
The two talked the morning away. Raoul told her that his parents believed he was more than ready to be wed and expected him to have chosen a woman and moved out by the end of next year at the latest. Christine asked if he had anyone specific in mind, and he told her that there was one girl he had known for quite a long time that he had had his eye on. She responded that, whoever this girl was, she would be very pleased by his offer. They grinned knowingly at each other, and the conversation went no further.
Not yet, Christine thought, but soon. She could barely contain her excitement.
As the morning wore on and the day warmed, Raoul informed her that he was needed back at home. Christine saw him out through the front door, wishing he could stay for just a while longer. "I hope to see you again soon, Little Lottie." He mounted his horse. "We shouldn't wait a week between meetings like we have."
"I have the same hope, Raoul. You will have to visit when Father returns."
"When is he due back? I'll come to dinner that night."
"He should be home in just a few days. I'll come get you once he's settled back in."
With their final goodbyes said, Raoul turned to leave. Before he had a chance to canter away, a horse with new rider appeared on the horizon. "That's odd," Raoul muttered, squinting to see it better.
As the horse drew closer, the color drained from Christine's face. "That's my father's horse!" she cried.
"What?!" Raoul hopped down from his mount, concern crossing his features.
Even before Raoul's feet had hit the ground, Christine was running towards the horse as he galloped up to the little cottage. She met him halfway and reached her hands out. "Woah, Phillipe, woah!" The horse whinnied in irritation, annoyed that Christine had stopped his progress home. She ran her hands through Phillipe's tangled mane. "Where's Father?"
Raoul at last came up behind her. "Is everything alright?" he asked.
"I don't know." Christine felt her throat tighten. "This is Father's horse, but he isn't here. And the wagon's gone, too…" She turned to face Raoul with horror in her eyes. "I think something's happened to my father!"
"Slow down, Christine," Raoul told her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation. Before we start jumping to conclusions, why don't I go get my father and some men? We'll go see if we can find any sign of Gustave and we'll work from there." Christine nodded in response, her voice choked off. "We'll find him, Little Lottie, I promise, but I need you to stay here. Don't go anywhere while I'm gone." Raoul raced back to his horse, barely slowing as he threw himself onto the animal's back. As he galloped off to find help he called, "Wait for me, Little Lottie!"
As he disappeared on the horizon, Christine placed a hand on Phillipe's neck and lead him back to the barn. A hand of fear, icy cold and iron-fingered, had gripped her heart. Something terrible had happened to her father, she just knew it! As she ran her fingers through the horse's mane, thinking of all that might have happened, she felt something papery that had gotten knotted into Phillipe's hair. She pulled the object out and saw it was a blackened leaf. Not dead, just black. Black leaves… Her mouth went dry.
The trees that grew these leaves seemed to defy all laws of nature, growing in only one color and maintaining that one color throughout the seasons. Trees that grew them were very rare and only grew in one place close to the village. She turned and looked up at Prince Erik's looming castle. Her stomach dropped. Gustave had been in the forests at the base of the castle. For whatever reason, he had ended up in the single most dangerous place he could have. Christine rounded to the horizon, searching for any sign of Raoul, but he was nowhere to be seen. She didn't have time to wait for him to come back, she realized. And neither did her father.
Without further hesitation, Christine pulled herself onto Phillipe's back and whispered, "Take me to Father."
The horse seemed to understand. Phillipe whipped around and took off down the road, racing towards the forest under the castle of the Cruel Prince Erik. The ride took several hours, but she still made the journey in less time than it would have with the wagon, she knew. If her father was nearby, she might be able to find him quickly.
Deep within the blackened forest, it seemed as if night had permanently fallen. None of the sunshine she had left behind her penetrated the thick canopy of leaves.
It was a fearful but determined Christine that was stopped in front of her father's wagon.
The little wagon had been turned on its side and considering on the terrain, Christine assumed it had been pushed over, not that it had simply tipped due to uneven footing. Her father's suitcase lay open nearby, his clothes tossed about and most of them torn. Lying beside the wagon was his violin, its bridge snapped, and strings broken from being stepped on. Hand over her mouth, tears filled Christine's vision.
There's no blood, Christine, a voice within her whispered, and no bodies. A small ray of hope glimmered in her chest. Whatever ordeal had befallen her father, it was likely he had survived.
Her suspicion was confirmed when Phillipe, still acting on her orders to be brought to her father, started deeper in. They rode a short while longer before coming to a large, iron gate wrought to look like ivy. From the large cursive D, Christine knew she had arrived at the prince's property. "Through here, Phillipe?" she whispered. The horse whinnied his response, pawing at the ground nervously with his front hoof.
Christine slid gently from Phillipe's back and pushed against the gate. It swung open, admitting her to royal land. She returned to Phillipe and mounted once more and, shortly after passing through the gate, she found herself outside the doors to the castle. Her heart in her throat, she jumped to the ground and took Phillipe's head in her hands. "Wait for us, boy," she told the obedient animal. He gave a nervous snort. Christine approached the door and, without knocking, pushed it in.
She was admitted into a large entry hall with walls covered in paintings and a floor hidden by carpeting. A stairwell leading up to the higher floors that resembled the grand stairs at the Opera Populaire greeted her, and a picture of a handsome young man smiled down at her. Christine closed the large door behind her and started towards the stairwell, climbing up the rightmost set of stairs. She hadn't realized that she was being watched.
Antoinette Giry had seen the door open and was about to hurry out this second unwanted guest before the master saw her. But the moment she had laid eyes on this young girl, she found herself transfixed, brought back to a time only six years ago when the prince had met his true love. The brunette angel who had won his heart and utterly shattered it in less than a singly day. This girl who had come…she had the same brunette hair, the same brown eyes, the same air about her. Whoever she may have been, she appeared to be an exact copy of the one from before. Instead of sending her away like she knew she should have, Antoinette decided to follow her and learn what her business at the castle was.
The girl headed up the staircase and continued climbing up. She seemed to know exactly where she was going, though how she was so sure Antoinette didn't know. Once she reached the third floor, the girl found her way to the spiral staircase that led to the tower dungeon. Antoinette realized that there was only thing that the girl could possibly be here for.
When Christine found the door, she knew it was the right one. She had only been following her instincts, trusting in the stories she knew to be true and the rumors she had once heard. Slowly, she entered the room. From inside, she heard a voice muttering. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
Christine immediately recognized the voice of Gustave. "Father!" she cried in relief, rushing to the cell where she had heard his voice.
With great difficulty, Gustave pushed himself up when he heard her voice. "Christine? Is that…you?"
"I'm here, Father," she responded tearfully, reaching through the bars in the door to take her father's hand. It was then that she realized he wasn't able to return the gesture. His hands were bound behind his back. Fear and anger surged through her. "I'm going to get you out," she told him firmly, bringing her arm back through the bars.
"No, Christine, you…need to leave! Now, before…he finds…you! He's…evil, Christine! If he…sees you here…he'll lock you…away…too!"
Her heart skipped a beat as she listened to him struggling to breathe. He was sick, Christine knew. Just how sick she wasn't sure, and with a jolt she realized she didn't know for how long he had been suffering. If he stayed her in this cold, damp, dark dungeon, he would surely die. Filled with resolve Christine affirmed, "I am not leaving you here, Father!"
She got to her feet and scanned the black room, hoping to find a key but it was far, far too dark. If she wanted any hope of locating what she needed, she would need light. It wasn't much brighter in the hallway, but even that bit of light might be just enough to find the key. Christine crossed the room and pulled the door open.
A piercing scream escaped her when she saw the figure standing in the doorway. Falling to the ground, she pushed herself away from the door, pressing against the cell her father was being held in. "Two guests in as many days? How interesting." The voice was melodic, almost as if he was singing, not speaking. It would have been calming if the ice in it hadn't been so tangible.
The man in the door entered the room, kicking it shut behind him. "Who…who do you think you are? Looking away an innocent man like this?" she demanded, trying to sound braver than she felt. Yet even she could hear the quiver in her voice.
"Who do I think I am? Who do you think you are, sneaking into my castle, into my tower, trying to break free my prisoner? Is this any way to treat your prince?"
"It is if he's an a…"
"Christine, no!" her father begged. "Don't…anger him…further."
Prince Erik stalked closer. "Your father is right, girl. You should be careful. If I was in my right mind, I would throw you in this cell alongside him. But I'm feeling unusually generous today. You have yet to truly anger me, so I will give you one chance to leave. If you do not take it, you will spend the rest of your life here." His eyes glinted like stars in the darkness, cold and distant and angry.
She met those eyes evenly. "I will only leave if my father leaves with me."
The prince sighed. "You are a fool, then." He closed the distance between them and gripped her arm painfully in a large, gloved hand. She could see him clearly now. He was dressed all in black, save for the white lining of his cape and the haunting white mask that covered the right side of his face. His eyes, burning with green fire, fell on her brown ones. The moment their gazes locked, his hand fell away. He took a small step backwards and his face contorting into a terrifying mixture of confusion, anguish, and fear. "It...it can't be…"
Christine cowered against the cell, unable to tear her gaze away from the prince's mask. Those stories were true, then. She had always wondered. Her arm throbbed where he had grabbed her. Close behind, her father pressed against the bars of the cell, getting as close as he could.
All the hostility had melted from Prince Erik. He looked more lost and hurt in that moment than he did evil and cruel. The prince closed his eyes and took a deep breath, composing himself. When they opened again, he glared down at Christine. "I will give you one last choice, girl. Either your father remains, and you leave, never to return. Or, I set your father free and you take his place. If you pick this option, I will release your father, but you will never be permitted to leave this palace again."
Her heart beat faster and stronger as she looked at her father in his cell. He was pale and, if possible, his breathing was getting even worse. Even as she watched him, he began to cough in a chest-rattling burst. It only reaffirmed to her that if she left him here, it would only be a matter of time before he died. She couldn't leave him to that fate. He meant too much to her.
Christine's determination must have shown in her face. "No, angel!" her father cried. "You can't…do this."
"I have to, Father," she whispered, feeling tears of sadness and fear well up in her eyes. "It's the only way…"
"Christine, I am an…old man… I've lived…my life… But you…you are still…young and full…of energy! You have your…future to think of! You can't give all…of that up…just for my sake!"
"Yes, I do."
"Christine!" her father screamed.
Slowly, she turned to face the prince who stood over her, his arms crossed impatiently as he waited. "Release him." Was all she said.
Prince Erik nodded and shoved her out of the way. He unlocked the cell door with a key he had pulled from a ring at his belt and yanked Gustave from it. "Your time has been served." The prince gave a crooked smile before dragging him from the room.
"No, wait!" he pleaded. "You have to let…me see her! She's my…daughter! Let me say…goodbye, you monster!"
"Please!" Christine climbed to her feet, trying to reach the prince as he made of the door.
Her father's pained gaze met hers for the last time as he shouted, "Christine, I lo-"
The door slammed shut, and all that Christine could hear now was he father's shouted protests as Prince Erik dragged him down the stairs. She slid back to her knees, burying her face in her hands. Tears filled her eyes as she fully realized what she had done. She thought of her part in Hannibal. She thought of what Monsieur Lefèvre would think when she didn't show up to that first rehearsal. She thought of what La Carlotta would say… And she thought of Raoul. Sweet, sweet, Raoul.
Her dreams of their fairytale wedding turned to ash before her. She had signed away her life to the Cruel Prince Erik. Christine had given up any chance she had had for happiness or love. Never again would Christine see her Raoul. Never again would she sit and talk with him. Never again would they walk arm-in-arm through the town. Never again would she hear him call her Little Lottie. Her time with Raoul had ended before it had ever really begun.
Christine clapped her hands to her mouth as tears rolled down her cheeks. She rocked back and forth, softly crying, wondering how things might have been different if she had just waited for him like he had asked. "Raoul…" she whimpered. "Oh, Lord… Raoul…" She could almost just imagine his confusion and fear when he returned to the cottage and found her missing. How would he react? Would he even have a clue of where to start looking? "I'm so sorry, Raoul!" she wailed as she started gasping for breath, crying harder and harder.
As she lay sobbing, the door opened again. Someone came to stand over her, and Christine knew it was the prince. He knelt down and grabbed her arm, much gentler than he had before and helped her to her feet. "I'll show you to your quarters," he told her simply. Whether out of courtesy or cruelty, Prince Erik ignored the way she sniffled, trying to catch her breath.
She had imagined that the prince was going to push her into a cell, but instead, he walked to the doorway. He stood off to the side, waiting for her to exit ahead of him. "You could have let us say goodbye," she whispered, not moving.
The prince sighed in frustration. "I let him go, I let him live. He is on his way to the village and will be back home by morning. That's more than anyone has ever gotten from me and should be more than enough for you. Now, are you coming, or would you rather stay in the cells forever?"
"He is my father, and I'll never see him again. You didn't even let us say goodbye…" Christine hissed. "Everyone in the village is right about you. You are nothing more than a cruel monster."
A flash of fury passed the prince's expression, but it quickly subsided. "I don't think it should matter to you what the people say about me. They are no longer any concern of yours. This is your last chance to follow me."
Christine looked tearfully around the gloomy tower dungeon, then back at Prince Erik. His arms were crossed again, impatient as he waited for her to make up her mind. She took one final look at the cell her father and occupied, then decided if the prince was offering her better quarters, she would be a fool to turn them down. Bowing her head, Christine allowed Prince Erik to lead her from the room.