I don't usually like stories with kids in them, but I adore writing Madeline. What do you guys think of her?
Enjoy!
-Nico
Raoul eased his horse to a slow, stammering trot as he approached the gates that separated himself and the animal from the mansion that was now Christine's home.
The home she shared with him.
Rage bubbled up in Raoul's stomach, a sensation he was beginning to get used to.
The long, deep scar that marred the right side of his face suddenly throbbed, as if reminding him that revenge was the only way he would completely heal.
The small child he had befriended was not in her usual place, waiting for him behind the impressive marble statues guarding the iron gates. He frowned. He had been certain she would be here, the promise of chocolates too enticing for a child her age.
Yet she was nowhere to be seen.
He eased his horse to a halt, keeping behind the large pine trees that shadowed him from any vantage point within the mansion.
Several glowing lights could be seen in the windows of the impressive structure.
They were home.
"Christine..." Raoul said, the name bitter on his lips. It had been years since he had seen her. He wasn't even certain if he loved her anymore; he only cared about the pain she had inflicted on him...
pain that he would make certain was passed back onto her threefold.
Music drew him from his thoughts...a painfully sweet tune accompanied by the voice of an angel.
Her voice, Raoul realized.
The torment continued; the beautiful sounds merely enraging Raoul even more. She sang of love, of hope, of happiness.
All the things she had denied him.
Every once in a while, a child's giggle or the plunk of an errant piano key could be heard.
It seemed that young Madeline was with her parents, participating in their music in the only way a child was capable.
When Raoul had first encountered the young girl, playing in her expansive yard, completely lost in whatever nonsense she had created in her own mind, he had known she was Christine's child.
The child that should have been his, that should have had his dirty blond locks instead of the black as midnight pitch that ran in thick wavy curls down her back.
He had expected the rage within his unsettled soul to boil over once more...he had waited for it...waited to feed off of it...
yet it never came. The small girl had taken note of him and bravely walked over to the gates, staring up at him with Christine's large brown eyes.
"Where did you get that horsey?" She had asked him, completely enamored with the beautiful white steed.
"My mother gave it to me," Raoul had lied, hoping the mention of his mother would make him seem less intimidating to the child.
And perhaps bring her to reveal more about her own mother.
Madeline reached a small hand out through the iron gates, trying to pet the animal. Raoul nudged the beast closer so the child could feel the softness of its fur.
Madeline looked back up at him. "You have a boo-boo like Papa," she observed.
Raoul's insides clenched.
"Yes, I do," he had replied. He listened as she prattled on about masks, about her father and his music.
"How did you get it?" Madeline asked.
"Where is your mother, child?" Raoul had said, ignoring her question. Madeline had pointed to the house.
"Inside, with Papa," she told Raoul. Then she paused, as if afraid to continue. "They're kissing," she whispered.
Madeline did not notice the fire blaze in Raoul's eyes.
He had seen her several times since, not knowing what it was about this child that enticed him so.
Perhaps it was because she looked so much like Christine.
Perhaps it was because he needed to see the product of their love, if only to remind himself how cheated his own life had been.
Fire was again in his eyes now, as Raoul listened to the music that the Phantom of the Opera was surely regaling his family with.
Raoul unconsciously laid a hand on the heavy package at his side.
It was best to wait until they were all asleep, he thought to himself.
There would be less chance for an escape that way.
"Madeline!" Christine laughed, too enchanted by her daughter to allow her mind to travel to less happy thoughts. "You mustn't touch the piano while your father is playing...it throws him off!"
Madeline pouted, but only for a moment as she suddenly found herself swept up onto the piano bend beside Erik. "She can touch this piano all she wants," Erik said, taking his daughter hands and placing them in the correct positioning over the keys. "She shall be a marvelous composer some day."
"Or perhaps a singer," Christine suggested, her heart melting as she watched Erik lay his large hands over his daughter's small ones, guiding them into a playing a simple song.
"I want to be a dancing girl when I grow up," Madeline informed them.
Erik laughed.
"Erik!" Christine admonished. "Don't encourage that term! They are called Ballerinas, dearest," Christine told her daughter.
"Bal...balli.." Madeline stumbled over the pronunciation. Frustrated, she rolled her eyes again. She looked up at her father. "What's wrong with saying dancing girl?"
Laughing again, Erik picked up the small girl. "Nothing, darling. Your mother used to be a dancing girl."
Christine swatted Erik's arm. "Don't tell her that! The next time I bring her into town she's going to tell everyone that her mother is a dancing girl!"
Erik held Madeline in one arm and draped the other around Christine, heading to Madeline's large bedroom.
"Mama, you should be proud you were a dancing girl," Madeline told her. "Like how Papa is proud he is a musicalician."
"Musician," Christine corrected her.
"Musician," Madeline repeated, yawning and placing her head on Erik's shoulder.
By the time the three reached her bedroom, Madeline was asleep. Erik laid her gently in the frilly folds of her child-sized bed, watching as the girl curled around her favorite stuffed bear.
They stood, looking down at her.
"She looks more like you each day," Erik said in a whisper. "Perhaps that is why I fall in love with her all over again each time I see her."
Christine pressed her lips to his, loving him more than she ever thought she could.
Silently, she took his hand in her own, leading him to their bedroom several doors away.
They instantly fell into a series of passionate kisses; kisses that led them to the bed, and then to the stars.
Raoul smiled as the last light was extinguished in the mansion.
He would wait another hour before he carried out his mission.
Just one more hour.
