On the morning of her twenty-third birthday, Christine Daaé woke up with a smile on her lips and the autumn sun streaming in through the window warming her face. She buried her face in her pillow for another moment, enjoying the peace and quiet of the early morning, before slowly blinking open her eyes.
Another year older and wiser. It was true that the past year had not brought her what she had hoped for. She had certainly not expected to be living in a gloomy old mansion with an unpredictable golden-voiced stranger while her father was in hospital. Life had set her on a strange path, and although she had not quite figured out why yet, she knew that she would not regret following it. After all, if her father had not been taken ill, she would never have met Erik.
Putting into words how she felt or thought about Erik was not an easy feat. He could be a difficult man to live with, that much was true, yet if he made an effort he could also be very kind and thoughtful. He had proven as much when she had been taken ill a few days ago. He had done everything he could to ensure that she was comfortable and got enough rest, and he had stayed with her when she asked, agreeing to read to her even though he surely had better things to do.
Listening to him had temporarily made her forget all about her discomfort. As he read to her those stories of a thousand and one nights, it was as if he was painting pictures with his voice. She could see it all right before her eyes, as clearly as if she were part of the story herself. She had been quite transfixed by the way he used his voice to draw her into the stories even more, too. The characters seemed to come to life right in front of her when he changed the sound of his voice to give them all their own personality, and although she had no idea of how he managed it, sometimes he could even make it appear as if a character was right there in the room with them, his voice seemingly coming from inside the wall, or from the fireplace, or her teacup, even though she could see his lips moving where he was sitting right in front of her.
However captivating these stories were, she was still feeling quite tired, and after a while his words stopped making much sense, but she continued to listen to his soothing voice, letting it wash over her like waves across the beach. She must have fallen asleep eventually, for she did not remember much else until she woke up in her bed the next morning. Someone must have carried her to her room while she slept. If she had walked up the stairs herself, surely she would remember, would she not? So if someone had carried her, that someone could only have been Erik. A servant would have simply woken her up, but maybe Erik had wanted to let her sleep, knowing how tired she was.
It was such a surprisingly tender gesture from a man who had seemed so cold and indifferent at their first meeting. If anything, it only reinforced Christine's belief that people really could change for the better.
At first, she did not look forward to her upcoming birthday, knowing that she would not be able to uphold the usual traditions with her father, yet now that the day had come, she found she actually quite enjoyed it.
As it was a relatively warm, bright autumn day, she spent her morning in the garden with Jean. When the gardener learned it was her birthday, he presented her with a beautiful white rose he had cut off from one of the bushes she remembered admiring on her first day here. She accepted it with a smile and later placed it in a small vase on her bedside table. He then took her for a pleasant walk around the lake. She had not ventured out this far before, but made a silent promise to herself to return soon, happy to find a new piece of the grounds to explore.
After a quick lunch, she set off to town with Madame Giry for another visit to the hospital. Her weekly trips to see her father usually took place on Fridays, and today was a Tuesday, but true to his word, Erik had arranged an additional visit for her so she could spend some time with her father on her special day. Another thoughtful gesture, although she had to admit that Erik had been acting rather strange lately. He had been spending more time in his study, always behind a closed door, and had seemed rather nervous this morning. What he could possibly be nervous about, she could not imagine. She decided not to dwell on it for the moment. If he continued acting in such a mysterious way, she could always ask him about it later. For now, she would focus on her father.
When she entered his room, her father was already up and waiting for her. As soon as she was close enough, he pulled her in for a tight embrace, wishing his daughter a very happy birthday while ignoring the protests of doctor De Chagny, who was examining him. As she pulled back, Christine noticed that he had more colour in his cheeks compared to the last time she had seen him, and his breathing sounded less laboured too. Indeed, Philippe confirmed that he was doing a little better every day, and that he expected him to make a full recovery in a few more weeks.
Receiving such good news was the best birthday present Christine could have asked for. She spent a lovely afternoon with her father, chatting animatedly about everything and nothing until it was time for her to leave.
Before she had reached the exit, she was stopped by Raoul, calling her name and waving enthusiastically at her from the other side of the hallway. He quickly ran up to her.
"Happy birthday, Christine!" he said with his signature charming smile.
"Oh, thank you! How did you know it was my birthday today?" she asked, genuinely surprised.
"Philippe told me right after you had left, so I hurried after you, hoping to catch up to you on your way out," he explained.
"That's very sweet of you, Raoul, thank you."
"Do you have anything special planned to celebrate?"
"No, not really." She had already had a lovely day so far, and she doubted Erik had anything planned other than not having a lesson, so she would probably read by the fire for the rest of the night and be perfectly content with that. Or maybe she could convince Erik to continue reading to her from his book of Arabic tales. "Spending time with my father and seeing that he is feeling better every day is all I wanted. I don't really require any more celebration."
"You can stay here a little longer, if you like," Raoul offered. "I know you said you do not have any other family, but I would be happy to keep you company. You should not have to spend your birthday on your own."
His speech puzzled her a little, until she realized she had never told him about her arrangement with Erik. He had never asked her where she went or what she was doing in between her visits with her father, but he must have assumed she was staying at an inn on her own, or something like that.
"Oh, you do not have to worry about me. I won't be on my own," she explained. She continued to give him a short summary of her first meeting with Erik and how he had offered to pay for her father's care in exchange for her agreement to stay with him.
As her story went on, Raoul seemed to grow concerned. "That sounds like a rather dangerous situation for a young woman on her own, Christine. You've only known this man for a few weeks. Are you sure you are safe with him?"
"I appreciate your concern, Raoul, but I can assure you that I am perfectly fine. Erik treats me well, and I am sure I have nothing to fear from him. He even had his lawyer draw up a contract to ensure my safety and well-being."
Raoul still looked doubtful. "Will you at least promise that you will come to me or my brother if anything should happen? You should not be entirely dependent on a stranger, Christine."
"Alright, I promise," she replied, feeling a little uncomfortable at the turn the conversation had taken.
"Good," Raoul nodded. "I understand you might feel like accepting this Erik's offer is your only option at the moment, and I know we have not known each other for very long either, but I want you to know that you can always turn to me for help if you need it."
"Thank you, that really is very kind of you. I promise I will keep it in mind, but I really have to go now. Goodbye, Raoul." She turned around and hurried away before he could reply. No doubt he had only been speaking out of genuine worry, but she did not like his implication that Erik was dangerous or that his intentions were not honourable. Raoul did not know Erik the way she did. He would never harm her. Would he?
She was still thinking about what Raoul had said by the time she got back to the manor. Surely it was silly to start doubting now, because of a remark made by someone she barely knew and who had never even met Erik. She should be able to trust her own judgement in the matter.
Still, as she quickly made her way inside, she hoped to find Erik and talk to him for a while, if only to remind herself that he really was a good human being and that she had nothing to worry about. Unfortunately he was nowhere to be seen. He was not in his study, nor in the music room or the sitting room. She checked the library last, but he was not there either. Well then, in that case the books would have to keep her company. Contemplating the endless possibilities in front of her, she eventually chose a book and settled in her favourite chair by the window to read for the next few hours.
By the time she went to her room to change into her best dress for dinner, she felt much better. Her novel had managed to capture her full attention, successfully distracting her from her sudden anxiety.
Maybe it was because her head was still wrapped up in the story she had been reading that she did not immediately notice the large box placed on her bed. How strange. Had her father sent her a present? No, that could not be it. They did not have any money to spare, certainly not enough for anything that might require such a big box.
As she went closer to investigate, she noticed a card sitting on top of the box. She immediately recognized the red ink and the messy handwriting as Erik's. The message written on it was very brief. It was only a request for her to wear the contents of the box to dinner.
Her curiosity now well and truly piqued, she lifted the lid of the box. She could not contain a gasp when she finally saw what was inside. It was a gorgeous, dark blue evening gown, with short sleeves and flowers in various colours embroidered on the bodice. As she took the dress out of the box to inspect it more closely, she noticed the same flowers on the bottom of the skirt. It was a dress fit for a princess. The box also contained a matching pair of shoes and a beautiful necklace that would fit really well with the dress.
She had to sit down on the bed for a while to take it all in. The dress was the most beautiful piece of clothing she had ever seen, but she would need to tell Erik that she could not possibly accept such a precious gift. It was too much.
Still, she considered, wearing it this once would not hurt anyone. She was just wondering how she would manage to get into the dress on her own, it being a far more elaborate garment than what she was used to wearing, when Madame Giry knocked on her door. Apparently she had been sent by Erik to help her dress. The man really had thought about everything tonight.
She could not help feeling rather self-conscious as she walked down the stairs. Here she was, a poor homeless street musician from Sweden, dressed like a French queen walking the halls of her chateau. Hopefully she did not look too silly.
She need not have worried. When she entered the dining room, Erik's eyes were immediately drawn to her. She felt her cheeks heat up as he let his gaze wander over her body with an awed look, before finally looking at her face again.
"You look… You look beautiful," he said.
Her face flushed at the praise. "The dress, it's exquisite, Erik, but I cannot possibly accept it."
"Nonsense. It is a gift. And it looks lovely on you. Please, I insist."
She did not know what she would do with it if she did keep it. She could not imagine having another occasion to wear it if she continued to travel around with her father, and she did not think she could ever bear to sell it, as that would seem so ungrateful, but she did not say any of that to Erik.
"Well, thank you. You look very nice yourself," she remarked. Erik was wearing a very fine-looking black evening suit with a white shirt and cravat. His mask was firmly in place – not once during her stay had she seen him without it – and his dark hair was as always neatly combed back. He usually looked impeccable, but he seemed to have made an extra effort for tonight.
He did not reply, apparently not very comfortable with receiving and accepting compliments.
"I must admit there is one thing I'm curious about," Christine said, changing the subject. "Not only is the dress absolutely stunning, it also fits perfectly, so how exactly did you get my measurements?"
"Oh, in a perfectly acceptable manner," he assured her, his lips quirked up in a little smirk. "With a little help from Madame Giry, who, at my request, took a look at the contents of your wardrobe while you were reading in the library a few days ago."
"Ah, that was very clever of you."
"Well, I thought you deserved a dress fitting the occasion."
"It really is lovely, but I do feel a little overdressed for dinner," Christine admitted.
"Oh, but this is not just a normal dinner," Erik said, gesturing towards the table behind him.
"Grattis på födelsedagen, Christine," he congratulated her in her native tongue.
As he took a step to the side, the dining table came into view and Christine saw that it was covered in all sorts of traditional Swedish dishes. Pickled herring, kroppkakor, falukorv sausage, all the dishes she remembered loving as a child, they were all there.
"Oh Erik, this is incredible!" she exclaimed.
"I must admit my cook was not too happy with my request for her to learn everything about Swedish cuisine in only a few days' time, but I promised her a princely fee for preparing such a feast."
Christine might have imagined it, but she could have sworn that he winked at her when he said this.
"We must not insult her by letting it get cold then," she replied as she took her place at the table.
The cook had most certainly earned her princely fee, Christine thought as she put down her napkin an hour later. She had wanted to try a bit of every dish, and now she felt as if she would explode if she ate another bite, but it had been worth it. The food was excellent, and so was the company.
She had never seen Erik so carefree and excited. He asked her the names of all the dishes, wanted to know what her favourites were and made sure to taste those first, he even talked to her in Swedish for a while, but reverted back to French after Christine corrected his pronunciation a few times. If there was anything she had learned about Erik in the past few weeks, it was that he did not do anything halfway. Either he excelled at something, or he refused to do it at all.
"Tonight was really lovely, Erik," she said, thanking him once again. She truly had not expected any of this when she woke up this morning. It was so much more than she could have wished for.
"Not so fast, mademoiselle. The evening is not over yet," Erik said with a mysterious glint in his eyes.
At that exact moment, as if he had been summoned, an unfamiliar man walked into the dining room. She was sure she had never seen him before, so he was not part of the staff, and if he was a friend or acquaintance of Erik's, he had never mentioned him before. She had absolutely no idea what the man was doing here or how he was connected to her birthday, until she noticed the leather case he was carrying. She recognized it immediately, remembering the very similar case she had hidden in the back of her wardrobe on her first morning here.
"Oh Erik, is that… is he…?" she tried to ask as she watched the man take out his violin and start tuning it.
"I invited him here to play for you. I know your father cannot be here tonight, and this is the closest thing I can offer."
Christine was so overcome with emotion she did not know what to say. Tears were burning in her eyes as she listened to the man playing an old Swedish folk song. She had not known how much she missed hearing the sound of her father's violin every day until now.
"Are you alright?" Erik asked with a panicked look when he noticed the wetness in her eyes. "Is it not to your liking? I can send him away if you –"
"It is absolutely perfect," she whispered. "Thank you."
They settled back in their chairs and watched the violinist perform. Occasionally Christine glanced at Erik, who was listening intently with a serious look on his face, frowning when the musician played a note that was slightly off key. How could she have doubted this man? How could someone who had organized all this for her be dangerous? He might have gone a bit overboard with the quantity of gifts, but he had clearly put so much thought into everything he had given her tonight. There was only one thing missing to make this birthday celebration absolutely perfect.
"Dance with me." She walked over to Erik and offered him her hand. "Please?"
"No," was his immediate reply.
His quick refusal took her by surprise. She had thought he would need some encouragement, but she had not expected him to outright deny her. He must have seen the hurt flash in her eyes, for he quickly added: "I am not much of a dancer, I'm afraid."
As she studied him nervously squeezing the armrests of his chair and looking away from her, she realized that what he probably meant was that, having been on his own for so long, he had not danced with anyone in a very long time, if he had ever learned at all. If that were true, she felt sorry for him. She could hardly imagine what a lonely life he must have led all these years. Still, she would not give up yet.
"I've always loved dancing myself, although I must admit it has been quite some time since I danced with anyone like this. I was hoping that maybe we could refresh our memories together?"
Erik remained silent, staring at her outstretched hand as if he feared it might bite him if he came too close. Christine did not say anything more. She simply smiled encouragingly until, at last, he stood up and took her hand.
He led her to the middle of the room and then just stood there, unsure of what to do next. Christine quickly came to his rescue. She was still holding his hand and lifted their arms up a little while guiding his other arm to her waist and placing her free hand on his shoulder. He looked at her uncertainly, almost disbelievingly, as if he could not understand why she would want to share this moment with him. Christine just kept smiling, her eyes never leaving his, and gently swayed in place.
It took him a while, but gradually he gained more confidence and started leading her across the improvised dancefloor. Talented as he was, she was not surprised that he turned out to be a natural at dancing and soon she could not tell anymore that he might not have done this in a very long time. His initially tentative grip on her hand and her waist grew stronger as he spun her around the floor as if he had done it a hundred times before.
At a certain moment, whether consciously or not, Erik pulled her in closer until there was almost no space between their upper bodies, and Christine's breath hitched in her throat. Except for that one ill-advised hug, she had never been this close to him before. She was suddenly struck by how intimate it felt. With his arm wrapped firmly around her and nowhere to look but straight into his golden eyes, she felt completely under his spell. It was as if he was hypnotising her somehow, making her forget about where she was or what she was doing. The only thing that mattered was who she was with.
She felt safe and cared for and she wished that moment in his arms would last forever. Unfortunately, much sooner than she would have liked, the song ended and they came to a halt, although Erik did not let go of her immediately. The musician started packing up his violin, but Christine barely noticed. She only had eyes for the enigma of a man standing in front of her.
They stood there in silence until the violinist had left. Erik's gaze on her was so intense she almost could not bear it, but she found herself incapable of looking away. Eventually, he was the one to break eye contact. His eyes moved down her face, lingering on her lips, and for a second she thought he would kiss her. To her own astonishment, she found herself wondering if she would even try to stop him if he did.
But then he suddenly released her and took a step back.
"Thank you kindly for the dance, mademoiselle," he said in a deep, seductive voice that sent shivers down her spine. He took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it so lightly that she could barely feel it. "Happy birthday," he murmured against her skin, then let go of her hand before turning around and leaving the room without a backward glance.