So this story will definitely be going up to an M rating. I will let you know when the time gets closer, but there is some violence/gore and smutty stuff in the not so distant future. I hope you are all still enjoying this story. I would love some constructive criticism! Enjoy!
Chapter 25: A Repressed Revelation
Paralysing.
That was the only word Christine could use to describe it. Her body grew rigid, unmovable and yet so quick to mold to the perfect shape to fit between his strong arms. One of his hands clung to her lower back, driving her hips firmly against his own. It spiraled her into a lustful frenzy.
She felt frozen, yet her body burned with electricity from the intensity of his lips crashing against hers. She wanted to push him away and draw him closer all in one, but her body refused to act entirely. Instead she stood there, her eyes shut and her hands gripping the lapels on his shirt as he enveloped her in a deep kiss.
It was intoxicating, mortifying, beautiful, wrong and yet so tender.
Her kiss with Raoul was innocent, a mere brushing of lips that made her giggle. This was something else entirely. It consumed her being, burned away all thoughts and electrified every sense.
Completely paralyzing.
Erik barely moved, almost as if he too had frozen the second their lips melted into one. His tight grip on her chestnut ringlets angled her chin perfectly, his body leaning into her hungrily. She surrendered to his starved lips, ignoring the swell of emotions in her stomach; emotions she couldn't identify. A part of her wanted to absorb every sense of him: the softness of his lips, his enticing scent, the heat radiating off his body, the feeling of his fingers digging into the back of her head to deepen their kiss. But there was a fire inside her that roared at his boorish behaviour. How dare he do this to silence her! How dare he refuse to answer her questions and belittle her like this.
She tried to open her lips to take in a deep breath, her lungs burning for oxygen. The second she attempted to move, he recoiled from her as if her lips had turned to acid. Christine gasped, inhaling deeply. Her knees buckled and she collapsed against the back wall, her fingers brushing her numb lips that tingled in disbelief. He kissed her. Her angel of music...kissed her. She stared at his rapidly rising and falling back. Her heart fluttered as he slowly turned to face her. Their eyes both searched each others' for their inner emotions. His eyes gleamed with such lustful need that she shivered.
Or at least, she thought they did until he chuckled darkly.
"Your indomitable strength is baffling, my dear." He snickered.
Her cheeks burned with rage. He did that to prove a point? Her lips pursed into a straight line and she huffed in frustration. She refused to embody that naive little girl he once knew.
"You barbarian!"
"So you didn't enjoy that?"
"Of course not!" She lied, wiping her lips of all evidence of his kiss. The truth was that she wanted more. She wanted to feel that rush of emotion, explore it further and understand its every nuance.
But instead she glared at him, swallowing all sign of pleasure.
He stalked back towards her, a malicious grin twisting on his lips. "Your rosy cheeks say otherwise. I must say they make you look quite ravishing-"
She responded impulsively: the only way she knew how to against men who tried to take advantage of her. She swung her open palm, attempting to knock that ridiculous mask off his face and put him in his place. At first, she had just assumed that the mask was to hide his identity, lest she had seen him around the opera house at one point in her life without her realising. But he still wore it and it bothered her endlessly. She wanted to see him, to know him. It was a symbol of the wall he had made to hide his past and emotions from her and she wanted to break it down. Yet, when her hand was mere inches away from its target, he caught her wrist with expert agility. He lessened the gap between them, causing her to squeak at his suffocating presence.
"My, my, what a temper." He purred.
Her cheeks flared, the butterflies in her stomach swarming. "You think you can just-just do that and I'll do whatever you say?" She retorted. It was as if her body had taken the controls, letting the buried anger inside her cascade over reason. "You will not diminish my determination. Now answer my question."
"You haven't changed one bit. Still a stubborn and impulsive little girl completely unaware of the dangers around her."
"You're wrong. I have grown. I'm a young woman who won't be belittled by a man hiding behind a mask."
He laughed, releasing his grip on her wrist. She tried to ignore how angelic it sounded. "There is one thing we can agree on. You are clearly now a woman."
Impulsively, she leapt forward, ignoring his chuckle as she pushed him away from her. With a frustrated huff, she stormed past him, leaving the small alcove.
"Where do you think you're going, little songbird?"
She ignored him. Nothing would stop her now. If his job was to keep her in the dungeon, then she could guarantee his attention by leaving it. Briskly she climbed the steps towards the dungeon door.
The playfulness of his tone disappeared. "Christine. Where are you going?"
If he refused to answer her questions, she would return the same courtesy. She sealed her lips together and pressed onward. Just as her hand reached for the handle, it moved on its own accord. She watched it in slow motion, puzzled. Why was-
Erik's arm was around her waist in seconds, pulling her to the side of the door. This time she was prepared. She rose her hands to his chest, locking her arms so he kept his distance. Her lips yearned for his, for the heat of his touch, but she refused to yield to her childish impulses. She stared evenly into his eyes, though he was not looking at her. The door opened, two guards entering with a limp prisoner in between them. It wasn't someone she recognized, but she gasped when Erik effortlessly pushed aside her arms, stepping closer and raising his cloak to shield her view.
"You don't need to see that." He muttered. Christine merely gawked at him, all her fiery resolve melting in seconds. His lips, slightly wider on one side were so smooth, so succulent. She naturally swayed forward, wondering if all of his kisses felt like a spark.
She nearly squeaked as one of the guards abruptly spoke in Persian. Erik kept his arm raised high, blocking her view. Effortlessly, he spoke with the guard, an evenness caressing his baritone voice. She admired the protruding muscles of his neck and the top of his collarbone that jutted from the small opening of his shirt. It seemed so smooth.
She shook her head, trying to disperse her wandering thoughts. This man owed her an explanation. His kiss, that electrifying kiss, doesn't change the fact he had lied to her for years.
Eager to think of something other than Erik, she leaned forward to peak over his arm. Erik didn't turn his head to acknowledge her, but quickly placed his hand at the base her neck and pushed her back against the wall. His hand, though gloved, were icy over her heart. Despite her frustrated grumble, the feeling of his palm was quite pleasant. It stilled her raging heartbeat. Regardless, she huffed at his rude shove.
Erik finished his conversation with the guard, refusing to lower his cloak until he was certain they had left their sight. He turned back to her, his hand at the base of her neck still holding her against the wall.
"If you had left the room before me, he would have killed you. All the guards are on strict orders to kill any escaped prisoners. Don't think they'll show you any mercy."
She shivered. Her actions were foolish. Had she forgotten that she was in an enemy palace, one where she was held prisoner? Her raging emotions had blinded her to her situation. "I'm sorry." The words stumbled out of her mouth.
His fingers brushed up the column of her neck. Her heart fluttered as she watched his eyes drop down to her lips for just a moment before returning to her eyes. Was that kiss only to prove a point or was it something more?
"Come. I will escort you back to your friends."
He stepped away, raising his hand for her to take. Christine nearly took it, ready to leave the suffocating atmosphere around her. She wanted to be as far away from him as possible. His presence set a frenzy inside her she couldn't describe or control. Her lips still ached from the pressure of his own and it terrified her.
But again, she refused to yield.
"Please, Erik." She pleaded. "I just want to talk."
He paused, his hand slowly lowering. She tried to maintain her composure as she stared into his eyes.
She just heard the faintest sigh leave his lips as he raked his fingers through his hair. He muttered something unintelligible under his breath before facing her again. "There is nothing I can say that will sway you?"
She shook her head and his hands collapsed at his sides. "Then stay close to me. Do not say a word."
She nodded stepping closer to take his elbow. She squeezed his arm. "Thank you." She whispered. Although she deserved an answer, she was aware of how difficult this conversation would be for him.
He smirked. "How could I tell you no?"
Her breath hitched at the genuineness of his words and the softness of his eyes. This phrase now had a warm connotation behind it, almost like a symbol of his kindness. A kindness she was grateful for. She gave him a weak smile, though heartfelt nonetheless. He lead her towards the door, glancing around the halls before pulling her forward.
-Darius POV:-
Darius stumbled down the dungeon halls, quickly regaining his footing to keep up a steady pace. He gripped onto the shoe making materials in his hand, his eyes wide.
I did not see what I saw. I did NOT see what I saw.
He had entered the dungeon as normal, gently closing the door to ensure no guard heard him. His mentor, Nadir, had told him to keep their special attention to the Populaire's cast a secret, lest anyone realize that they were trying to help the cast. If they found him with materials to make ballet slippers, that would surely raise suspicion.
But he wished he had slammed the door to alert the Angel of Death of his presence. Because when he looked over and saw him with his arms around her waist...
He shook his head. No. No. No. If he knew that Darius had seen him, he would die. Darius had seen that thing do terrible, brutal punishments to the Shah's enemies. This would be a sight he would take to his grave.
Darius jumped as Nadir sprinted around the corner, fervently searching the cages. When he saw Darius, he reached for him.
"Christine! The opera singer! Have you seen her?"
Darius shook his head, mouth agape and body turning rigid. Before he could make a lame excuse to her absent, Nadir barked more orders.
"She was just with me! A prisoner must have grabbed her. Quick! Search everywhere!"
"No!" Darius blurted. With a free hand he gripped onto Nadir's shoulder. "I um… was mistaken. I did see her, with the Angel of Death."
Nadir released a relieved sigh, his hand covering his heart. "Oh bless Allah. I was afraid she would be in danger. Are they in the dungeon? I must speak with him urgently."
"No!" Darius interjected desperately. "They seemed a little preoccupied."
Nadir raised an eyebrow suspiciously. His once panicked aura settled to a perplexed calm. "How so?"
"They um...They were just discussing matters. I have to go, I promised I would make the ballerinas some slippers."
Nadir gripped onto Darius's upper arm. For an old man, Darius was always surprised at the man's sheer strength and determination. "You're hiding something."
Darius shook his head, but Nadir persisted. "What were they doing, Darius?"
"I-I can't-They weren't doing anything."
Nadir stepped back in front of him, his raised eyebrow settling as a sly grin formed on his face. "You can either tell me now or I will go and ask the Angel of Death why you seem so stunned."
"No! Nadir don't tell him I saw anything!" Darius begged. He looked around sheepishly before whispering to Nadir. "Don't tell anyone, especially him, that I told you this. If he knew he would certainly have my head."
"You can trust me." Nadir affirmed. "I will not utter a word or give any indication that we had this discussion."
Darius nodded, seeing the truth in his mentor's eyes. "They were...um...I saw them near the steps and they were..."
"Spit it out man!"
Darius took a deep breath, glancing around one last time to ensure no one was listening. "Kissing."
Nadir froze, his entire body seemingly turning into a statue. At first, Darius was worried the news was so shocking that Nadir was beginning to have a stroke. He was about to reach out to tap him, nudge him back into existence, when the old man threw his head back and released a loud, unrestrained laugh.
Darius began to panic. "nadir! Quiet! He will hear us!"
But Nadir continued. He leaned forward, supporting himself on his knees and laughed uncontrollably. He only stood when Darius gripped onto his shoulder, begging for silence.
"Stop laughing! Stop! Nadir, this isn't funny! Nadir, you promised!" But his pleas for mercy were drowned by the hysteric howls of the chief of police. Instead he ran to the cages, leaving behind his mentor as he grabbed his sides, which ached from laughter.
-Christine POV:-
After one deep breath of the crisp evening air, Christine knew this was the right decision. With each inhale she felt her raging nerves and sense of suffocation fade away into a peaceful state of mind. This was the moment she had been waiting for since she was a little girl and it chilled her to the bone. But now she found clarity.
Erik had brought her to one of the rooftop balconies of the palace. They had entered an empty meeting room, one with a large mahogany table and maps of the world. Though she was curious about the room, her eyes were drawn to the large window. Her eyes glossed over as she absorbed the golden rays that painted the elaborate city before her. She leaned against the bars of the balcony, admiring the plush gardens below.
But something wasn't right. She turned, expecting to see Erik besides her, but just saw more of the gorgeous sky. He stood far behind her, hiding in the shadows by the door. He leaned against the marble wall, assuming his usual crossed-arm stance and distant scowl. It almost made her smile.
"Why don't you come and enjoy the view?" She asked, gesturing to a spot beside her.
"I can enjoy it perfectly from here."
Christine bit her lip as her stomach fluttered. "But you can't see the gardens from there. Come stand by me."
If he was next to her, she could keep an eye on him, though her mind worried he would try to kiss her again. She tried to omit it from her memory. That was just to prove a point, to belittle her into submission. But she refused to yield to his demands and the burning desire of her soul. If she thought that he cared for her...like that...surely she would be lead down a path of disappointment.
She sighed as she internally prayed that no one had seen their encounter. Maybe then she could forget it ever happened.
"What do you wish to know?"
His voice rang over the sound of birds chirping, a sound so sweet she felt her shoulders relax. He could have been brutish, continuing to refuse her access to the truth. Instead, he seemed to surrender to her wishes. Maybe this Angel of Death was not as terrible as everyone made him out to be. She raised an eyebrow, staring back at him. He still hadn't moved, though she wondered if it was for the best. Now she was here, Christine forgot all of the questions she wanted to ask.
"I know you were my angel of music and the phantom. You left to attend to other matters and returned to witness my… betrayal."
She tried to ignore the way his body tensed when she mentioned her betrayal. "You seem to know everything necessary."
"I barely know anything." She countered gently. "I Don't understand why. Why were you the phantom? Why did you leave? How did you end up here? Why do you wear that mask?"
"Though I am a man of my word, and I will answer your questions, I neglect to see how any of this concerns you." He growled. "None of this information will help you with your performance."
"That's irrelevant. You lied to me since I was 6 years old."
"I had to. You wouldn't understand."
"Then let me."
He sighed, running this fingers through his black hair. "You won't like what you hear." His voice was a low growl as he buried his hands in between his elbows, his fingers gripping at the hairs on the nape of his neck.
"Erik please." She pleaded gently.
"Don't do that." He hissed, stepping away from the marble wall.
"Do what?"
"Beg like a child at my feet. The Christine I knew never grovelled before anyone, not even an angel of God."
"A lot has happened since then." She retorted.
"Like your engagement to that boy?" He pulled her ring from his pocket, tossing it onto the floor until it landed at her feet. The clatter of gold against the floor silenced her, her eyes squinting at its bright glare. Her shoulders tensed as she realized that she had completely forgotten about the ring. Raoul was her dear friend, her suitor for many months, yet she had forgotten about him in an instant. She vividly remembered that night on the mountain when Erik ripped it off her neck. It was as if he had ripped away all thoughts of him. A shiver trickled down her spine as she remembered his terrifying glare as his fingers bruised her neck.
I am not your enemy.
Even from that day he knew exactly who she was. She quelled her rage as she knelt down to pick up the golden band. She studied it tenderly. How things had changed. At the time, she had prayed that Raoul would receive their letter and send aid to save them, though she hated to think he would be involved. But now, it seemed he was more involved than she had hoped. Did he know this would be her fate? Why was nothing she used to believe true. Her angel was a man, her lover sent her to die. Did Raoul even want to marry her, or was it a lie to procure her trust?
"I refused him." She muttered, trying to block out the questions in her mind. "I am not fit to marry, especially not a Vicomte. Especially not someone as pure as him. My father's death destroyed that defiant little girl you once knew."
She gripped the ring, pressing her fist against her heart. "Raoul deserves better than me."
"You're wrong."
"No, I am not. He deserves someone who will stand by him, support him in all aspects of his work and still embody that perfect woman at his side. I can't even make myself happy, how on earth am I to make someone else happy?"
Her voice cracked as a wave of tears stung her eyes. She blurted out all the thoughts in her mind. "I am so broken, Erik, I had to refuse him."
Two strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her back flush against his chest. His embrace broke the little resolve she had left as her tears erupted down her cheeks.
"If he loved you he would take you at your worst and enjoy every second of it. You are not broken, Christine."
She tried to pry herself from his arms. "Stop. You don't understand-"
"I understand perfectly. When you look in the mirror, you just see a shell of yourself. It is like you aren't the person you thought you were, like you're a damned impostor deceiving the world around you. Every day is a constant battle of be yourself again. But the closer you get to your goal the more intense the pain grows. Sometimes it is just easier to succumb and wallow in it than fight it for something that seem unattainable."
She sniveled, her trembling hands gripping the sleeves of his shirt. She cried with each word that cut at her heart. Everything he said was true. Every emotion, every syllable described her every fear. Her father's death, her angel's departure, the loss of her soul. It was a constant battle and she was too weary to stand against it. She leaned into him, turning her head to hide her tears in his bicep.
"I do understand." He whispered softly in her ear. "I came to the Opera Populaire as a young boy. I had run away from home at quite a young age. My mother despised me and I left to rid her of my burden. But I fell into the clutches of a madman, a man who tortured me for pleasure. I don't want your pity, Christine. Don't look at me with those eyes. At this point in my life, I witnessed and suffered through all of man kind's cruelty. Your tears will not change that, nor do I want them. These aren't memories I wish to relive by telling you the details, but trust me when I say it was hell on earth. I escaped and hid in the Opera house, too terrified to face the darkness of the world. I was drowning in pain. Drowning in hatred. But then I met the most beautiful angel I had ever seen."
Christine sobbed, shaking her head. He squeezed her tighter and rested his porcelain cheek on the back of her head, cooing her softly. "It took many years, but soon I began to feel human, like my soul had re-entered my body after years of suffering. This pain you feel I know well, Christine Daae. It consumes you, claws at your being. But its most dangerous blow is that it makes you feel isolated. There is no shame in allowing others to fight besides you. It doesn't deride you of pride nor subtract your strength."
"But you were gone." She sobbed. "I had no one."
"My anger governed my actions and I beg for your forgiveness. I had no idea you suffered so greatly."
"Why? Why did you leave?" She cried.
"I thought-" His breath hitched. Her head had turned to gaze into his eyes. They were red and wide, just like the little girl he had seen crying in the chapel of the Opera house. How it ached his once still heart. "I thought you had abandoned everything we built for that boy. I saw you, before the show." His voice trailed. Despite her physical protests, he stepped away from her, retreating back to the safety of the shadows. Christine hugged herself, trying to replicate the warmth of his embrace.
"You love him, don't you?"
Christine froze. Though he wore a mask, she felt as though she could interpret every emotion in his eyes. Except now, she only stared in confusion. Raoul was safety, sunshine, a present reminder of her happy childhood. They used to play, laugh, giggle together. Her heart skipped a beat when he was nearby. He was her first love. She wanted to follow him, be the reason he smiled. But, did she love him?
She looked down at the ring in her hand. Raoul was a dear friend, a piece of her life she would always cherish. But regardless, she knew she could never marry him. She could never be what he needed for a wife, nor could he be what she needed as a husband. Though her heart ached at the revelation, she knew it was just. She had her own dreams, ones she could fulfill without him.
"Yes. I do." She whispered, gazing down at the ring in her hand. The next time she saw him, if she saw him, she would return this ring. He would always hold a special place in her heart, a love that couldn't be broken. He would always be a dear friend. She turned to look at Erik, who avoided her gaze as his lips formed into a thin line. She smiled softly at him. Raoul could never fill the hole in her heart like he could.
"Why did you leave the Opera house and-" She swallowed nervously. "What made you come back?"
He continued to gaze at the floor, his arms crossing across his chest. She dared to imagine the words that would dance of his lips. Did he return because of her? Did he return to be with her? Though the realization would make her betrayal significantly harsher, she wanted to know if he cared for her like she cared for him.
"I left to study architecture." He grumbled. Christine was taken aback by the dark growl that replaced his once soothing voice. "I understood that in order to fit into society, I had to find a stable income that did not include bribing incompetent fools for petty coin. So I left for Italy to study architecture. I merely returned after my training was complete to retrieve some belongings."
Neither looked at each other, both too stung by each others words. Christine felt her fingers tremble. Before her was a broken man who had done his best to rebuild himself, despite her attempts at destroying him. Of course he would never open up to her, nor should he. Clearly she destroyed everything she touched. She squeezed her eyes shut as she imagined him as a young boy, trapped in chaos and despair. As much as she wanted to know what had happened, she knew that indulging in the ghosts of his past would be unbearable for him. He must have suffered so greatly.
Her presence would only make things worse.
"I see." She muttered, unable to say anything else. They were silent as Christine gazed out at the gardens around her. It wasn't as beautiful as it had been when she first looked.
This chapter was a little shorter than I had planned, so I may try to add some more half ways during the week. Things have been a bit busy at home with some house projects, but I will do my best to sit down and edit the rest of the chapter! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!
Lucyole: If you thought that was evil, how did you feel about the ending of this chapter haha. We are slowly chipping away at the past but there will be more to come. Thanks!
Phantomgirl24: Thank you for your review! There is a lot of tension and it only seems to grow more and more haha.
Batty Dings: Thanks! I know it isn't the most traditional but I hope it still embodies the Phantom we all love. There is a lot of political whackiness and hopefully you have learned more up to this point. It will all be revealed in the end. Thank you! Hope you are still enjoying this story!