Hello! This is the first time I've ever decided to publish a fanfiction. It's a mishmash of ALW, Leroux, and possibly Kay (mulling over what details I want to include of Kay's), with a twist of my own stuff.
I will preface by mentioning that even though a lot of writers use the Joel Schumacher cast when imagining the characters, I tend to imagine Christine with Olivia Hussey's face (1968 Romeo and Juliet era. Her actual age around that time actually fits where a lot of writers put her at, and I think she just perfectly embodies the image of gorgeous, wide-eyed innocence, sans Christine's iconic mane of wild curls, of course) and Björn Andrésen in his mid 20s for Raoul. As for Erik, his face is ever changing in my mind lol. I don't have one true, distinct version of him in my mind's eye; it's more about his presence and overall aura for me, and I enjoy imagining him with slightly different features depending on the story. :)
This story takes place immediately after the events of the play/movie with some artistic liberties, so it can be considered a sequel of sorts. I pushed the story timeline farther than the JS movie did and decided on the 1880s.
Paris, France, 1884
Flames licked the sky, churning higher and higher as the Palais Garnier fell victim to its scathing embrace. Clustered dots spewed out of the opera house's doors, as if purging itself of its last meal. Bodies pushed and tumbled out of the exits, frantic to get away from the fire, the smell, the screams, from the horrifying mass of shattered glass and bodies and blood. The blood - oh, so, so much blood.
The acrid smell of burning flesh and bitter smoke clogged the air, bringing tears and coughing fits to any onlookers. Men rushed around, scrambling and yelling over attempts to help any survivors out of the wreckage. The sound of music had devolved into wails and screams.
The weather that night had been some of the best that Paris had seen in months. The air was perfectly cool and still, sweet with the whispers of a crisp winter breeze tangled with the first blooms of the spring season. It was opening night for the exotic new opera. Rumors that it was written by the eccentric Opera Ghost allured and beckoned the aristocracy, who thrived off gossip and sensationalized stories. Excitement crackled through the air as a mesmerizing blur of silks and satins trickled out of constant carriages and cabs. Jovial laughing and loud conversation rounded the edge off of frenzied horseshoes and clattering cab wheels, creating a warm bubble of liveliness and exhilaration. As the night progressed, guests filled the seats, leaving behind a quiet blanket of peace on the street - only to be punctured by the sound of shrill screaming crescendoing off the acoustics of the opera house, followed shortly by the deafening crash of a chandelier plunging into its audience.
The gargantuan bronze frame had ripped into the middle of the floor, contorting with the impact and trapping dozens in a splintering heap of crystal shards, metal and limbs bent at all all the wrong angles. The growing pool of blood stained the floors and seats with an even richer hue of red. Wires that had been torn out of the ceiling thrashed and sparked, setting yards of velvet aflame.
They had decided to install the electric chandelier just last year, claiming it was to mark a new era, one of technological advancement…
"Christine."
She could hear a distant voice calling her name, but she was unable to look away from hell incarnate. The Palais Garnier was bathed in orange, a beacon of sin and obsession crumbling for all of Paris to witness. Tendrils of flame began to lap at the top of the dome, and the structure of the building started to groan, shuddering under heat and pressure.
Her home.
"Christine!" Her head snapped over to the voice. Raoul was inches away from her, her shoulders in his vise-like grip, shaking her fervently. His eyes were wild, flickering around her face. Tendrils of wet hair wrapped around his face and neck, the smell of lake water clung to him.
The lake. Where had she left him.
It felt as if cotton was stuffed in every crevice of her head. Raoul's lips continued moving, but Christine couldn't understand a word. She shifted her glance up, following rivulets of sweat that melted into the soot that coated his hair and skin. All she could think was how she had never seen his eyes so dark. His pupils were blown out - thin blue-gray circlets enclosing black voids.
"We must get away from here - now. The building is on the verge of collapse. I shan't lose you," Raoul choked out before coughs wracked his frame, raising a torn shirt-sleeve to his face.
As if on cue, the left side of the dome exploded, wrenching glass and metal into the air. Panic lacerated through the crowd, spurring people to run in all directions. Christine felt herself being enveloped in a pair of arms and jerked through the wild throng of bodies, stumbling as she fought to keep her balance. The ornate wedding dress adorning her body restricted movement as is, but water had weighed down the excessive layers of her skirt and trapped her legs, completely hampering any ability to walk.
Everything was a blur. All she could do was focus on keeping upright. Limbs and hands and elbows shoved and jostled her around, leaving her bruised and disoriented. Finally she felt her back sink into plush velour and the abrupt click of a door confirmed she was in a carriage.
"Christine, it is going to be all right."
The fog impeding her vision slowly cleared as she realized Raoul sat opposite her, clasping her small, shaking hands in his. His palms were broad and warm. Slowly brushing his thumbs across her wrists, he spoke in a hushed, comforting manner. "You are safe now, mon amour. The nightmare is over. We are free of the Phantom. I will arrange for you to stay with me at the Chagny manor for the time being. Once we are married we will be able to move into a house of our own. You will be the Vicomtesse de Chagny." He gave a small smile, a trace of sadness touched his eyes.
Vicomtesse...? Vicomtesse...de Chagny? She had agreed to marry him, she supposed - but she had not thought past that. To be a vicomtesse would come with its own expectations, unwritten rules; she would have to forfeit her singing. No respectable aristocrat would have anything to do with the theater, save perhaps sitting in the audience on occasion. Suddenly she remembered the heavy onyx signet her Angel had placed on her ring finger and nearly jerked her hands out of Raoul's.
She had left her engagement ring with him as a promise, an apology, a quiet declaration of love, an understanding that she could not stay with him. She couldn't find it in her heart to tell him. "Raoul," her voice was hoarse. "I do not have the ring. It was lost down there." A tinge of anger clouded his face before he softened, moving his hands to cup both sides of her face. "A trivial matter. I will buy you a nicer one." Christine merely nodded, unable to speak as a lump lodged itself into her throat.
She glanced down and buried her left hand in the sodden layers of her skirt. How could she look Raoul in the eye? He had risked life and limb to venture down into the lair of the masked monster and rescue her, only for her to tear herself away from his side and back down to her Angel for a final goodbye. She recalled his look of dumbfounded hurt as she asked to go back down one last time, pleading that she couldn't bear to simply abandon someone who she had known for so long. He gave a nod of hesitant understanding, allowing her spare minutes before the mob would come crashing into the underground cavern.
She had taken the gondola and blindly shoved the pole into whatever surface she could, feeling as if she was flailing in the yawning, black expanse of darkness. Nothing could have prepared her for what she would see as she descended back into that abyss.
Candelabras, candles, papers, books were strewn across every possible surface. Blurred ink bled off the sheets bobbing in the water. The tapestries he had placed over every mirror were all ripped off, each of them marred with gaping holes surrounded by a web of cracks where he had smashed each one.
Christine's knees began to wobble, and she dug the pole into the bottom of the lake, clutching onto it for dear life lest she fall in.
Her heart clenched at the sight of him. He was doubled over on his knees, clutching the veil she had ripped off her head, the ends of it swirling and twisting as the edge of the lake lapped at it. Quiet sobs shuddered through his body. His head hung down, preventing her from seeing his face.
"Mon ange?" she asked softly. His head jerked up, and her breathe caught in her throat as his eyes locked onto hers.
Her Angel. Her poor, poor Angel. His liquid amber eyes were rimmed with red, tears streamed and pooled where his nose should have been.
Awareness snapped back to her and she poled over the final gap of space between them, stepping onto the rock platform right next to where he sat. He looked bewildered, eyes full of weary longing, confusion, wariness. Even sitting he still towered over her, but right now he seemed so small, so distant from the commanding, regal air he exuded. His presence could consume any room, dwarfing anyone or anything else in it.
She leaned over and gently grasped his hands, pulling the veil out of them and setting it aside. She took one hand in hers, pressing the diamond engagement ring Raoul had given her into his palm and curling his fingers around it. Christine took his fist in both hands and kissed it, fighting to keep her composure as she bit back tears. A strangled sob escaped his lips and he took one long quivering breath. "Christine, I love you."
Her face scrunched up as the tears began to flow, violently shaking her head. She crumpled to the floor, losing the last of her control and sobbing as she held onto his hand. She felt him stand, gently but firmly pulling her up by her forearm. He tucked a knuckle under her chin to lift her face to his and brushed a curl out of her face before giving her a sweet, pained smile. "You must leave, mon petit. They will be here soon. I would not forgive myself if you ever got hurt."
Christine found herself unable to resist as he pushed her back into the gondola, handing her the pole and using his foot to turn the boat in the opposite direction. Terror flushed down her back and into her bones as she began to panic. She would not leave him, she could not! Her torso whipped back around and she had nearly grabbed onto his lapel before he shook his head, taking a step back.
Go, he mouthed.
She didn't even know his name, Christine realized, she had never granted him the simplest human kindness as to ask of his name, to give him the respect of any other man. Scalding tears splashed onto Raoul's cupped hands as Christine shook even harder. She began to feel the confusion, pain, and utter exhaustion of the worst night of her life sink in as every muscle in her body screamed in distress.
"Oh, Christine," Raoul rasped, "everything will be all right. You are safe. He cannot harm you any longer." She couldn't bring herself to shake her head at his misunderstanding, so she simply let him slide over to her seat and hold her.
OMG, okay. I hope this was all right for a first time first chapter. Please do let me know what you think! Again, this is my very first time ever even writing a fanfic, so it makes me a bit nervous. I'm probably going to go back and edit some of this in the future. The name is also probably subject to change later down the line. Thank you for reading!
