Chapter Five

This Will Never Work


AN- Ok, I'm going to try and make things a pinch more obvious, but understand that I can't give the whole thing. I think why my stuff sucks is because I do do that. Well this will be different! Lol. TTYL, Christine Daaerre


Christine opened her eyes, her head ached and she was dizzy . What had happened? She made to touch her head, but something was holding down her arms. She looked down to see that they were bound, as were her feet.

She cried out in discomfort, wriggling about on the desk she was set up on. The door opened and Erik came in, he looked angry with her, but then his eyes softened slightly. She remembered now.

"Erik...." She started, struggling against the ropes again.

"Do you know," He said, trying to keep from yelling. "How worried I've been? Have you any idea of what it would do to me if you had succeeded?"

She whimpered, unable to meet his gaze. He came closer, lifting her chin. "Is this all one big game for you? Something you can just quit when it gets hard? I'm sorry Christine, but it doesn't work that way! God dammit I love you! I do Christine more than you choose to see! More than that boy and probably more than your father! I would DIE just to have you utter that you love me and be truthful! Is that what I must do? Must I be dead before you can say it?"

She was crying, huge sobs of guilt, fear and confusion. Erik undid her bindings and brought her down from the desk, he fell to the floor, clutching her to him. "Why can't you give me a chance? Am I so unkind to you so that you would kill yourself? Am I such a horrible person? I know we've fought and I'm sorry if you've been waiting for me to come into your room every time, admit you're right and then make it up to you, because I won't do it unless it's true."

She finally found words. "Erik, I love you, but I love Raoul..." She pulled back, seeing him grimace at her face. "I'm just... Oh God I don't even know!"

He shook his head. "Try Christine, try to take your time. Feel your way around this, don't jump had in and expect to fall in love with me or remain in love with Raoul! You are young, and it is sure that you will kill yourself if you do that!"

She shuddered and fell back into his arms. "How do you put up with me?"

He laughed. "I know that this won't work if I don't learn to. It won't work if you try and end your life whenever we argue, how can we have a good time together if you did?"

She shifted nervously, unable to look at him as she addressed the topic. "There's something bothering me that is irrelevant Erik."

"Speak on it." He whispered, inhaling her perfume.

She shivered slightly. "I... When we're married, will you expect me to.... Sleep with you?"

"You mean on our wedding night?"

"Well yes, and afterwards."

"Not if you don't want to." He whispered. "I will never force you to have relations with me, Christine, though just feeling you there in the night may be nice. You may sleep in your own room if you like."

"Oh I think, I think I can sleep with you just not well, not make love until I'm sure if I ever am."

He nodded and kissed her forehead. "I understand. It is all right."

She sighed. "Thank you."

He laughed. "You are to be my wife, not my whore." he said softly. "Any wife of mine will mostly do as she wishes."

She smiled. "How badly have I damaged my good looks?"

He faked a scoff. "Don't be ridiculously conceited! Anyhow, they are so dreadful now, I thought they were bad before, oh goodness..."

She laughed."May I see?"

He sighed and released her. "Of course, who am I to stop you?"

She paused and smiled to herself. "My fiancé."

She went into her room and to her mirror, clasping a hand over her mouth to hide her scream. He came in moments later. "Erik, I can't get married looking like this!"

He shook his head. "It's not as bad as it looks, I expect it to be gone in a few weeks, we have two months, Christine."

She sighed. "I hope so."

He smiled and turned her to face him. "You're still beautiful on the inside, and that it what counts!" He brushed a tear from her cheek. "You should rest, this has been stressful for you."

"Oh but I could never sleep with what I have on my mind, can't we talk for a little while longer?"

He laughed at her childish plea. "I feel more like your father right now," He met her sad, hopeful gaze. "Let's make some tea."

She smiled thankfully and nodded, leading him into the kitchen and setting about making tea. He sat down and waited in the lounge, drumming his fingers thoughtfully on the side-table. She came in a few moments later with the tea tray, he moved his hand so she could set it down there.

She poured two cups and sat with him, sipping then setting the cup and saucer down. "Erik," She ventured. "I didn't mean what I said earlier. I don't think you are any of those things."

He sighed and nodded, setting down his own cup. "I know, and you are not a parading painted diva. Nor a music thief or, God I don't even remember all the things I called you."

She sighed and nodded. "Next time we decide to argue about A flat's and B sharps though, I think we should just settle it with a C minor.

He paused with his cup to his lips, looked to her and shook his head setting it down again. "No, no, no, no, no! D major would sound much better with the particular composition."

She laughed and absentmindedly placed her hand over his on his armrest. "This will never work!"

He chuckled lightly, then stared at her white hand upon his. He freed it and slid his over hers gingerly, feeling the smooth texture of her fine milky flesh. She shivered and lifted his other hand to her lips, then ran from the room into her chamber.


Christine lay in bed for an hour, thinking through her fuzzy feelings. She knew she loved Raoul, but could she possibly love Erik more? After all, he treated her like an equal, rather than a prize. He talked to her like any intelligent human, not some primped poodle that only understood adjectives.

He always tended to her when she was ill or wounded, Raoul sent for some high costing doctor or nurse. Erik respected her opinion, Raoul scoffed it. Erik even believed in her dreams. He would listen to her and even told her one night,

"My dear, I believe the future of the world relies on women. One day men will read nothing but books written by ingenious writers, all women. Women will be renowned scientists and inventors, and everything men often say they can only do. Why, I even truly believe women will be more popular with writing music!"

She sighed, still confused, but more clear. At least she knew she cared for him in some minor, or perhaps deep way. Now only to see how deeply or shallowly this love ran....