Padme's Author Note: This chapter gave us a lot of problems. We had to rewrite a good three-fifths of it before we were happy. I've read it so many times that I'm not sure I can see it straightly now. I still feel like something's missing. Please, don't be scared to tell us it was worse than our prologue. You're comments help us write better. I know Jazzetry and I have been pulling our hair out over it. Other than that, we had fun. Chapter two should go a little quicker, but no promises.

Chapter One: Twenty Years Later

A thin wisp of smoke curled upwards from the quaint brick chimney, slightly blurring the glow of the bloody harvest moon. Besides the moon, the only other source of light in the forest emanated from the nearby cottage. A passerby could see the glow of the hearth through the windows and hear the strains of a well-played violin striking the notes of a lively folk song.

Inside the cottage, the musician laughed as he watched his daughter dance around their modest home, her loose chocolate curls bouncing as she twirled to the upbeat rhythm of the musical composition. At the sound of the violin's final note, the dancer collapsed gracefully at her father's feet, laughing merrily along with him.

"That was marvelous, Papa!" Stephan Daaé smiled at his daughter's breathless admission.

Stroking her hair, he murmured, "I just hope I can play this well for Lord Tiernay tomorrow."

Christine playfully slapped her father's knee. "Just because you haven't played professionally for a while doesn't mean you've lost your talent. You'll be wonderful!"

Stephan suddenly grew somber. "Christine," he said firmly, "Please sing me something before I retire for the night. I'm afraid it's grown quite late."

Christine, still by her father's feet, began to sing a familiar tune, a sad and wistful melody that lured Stephan to pick up his own instrument. Her voice rose and fell in perfect harmony with the music, filling the room with sweet notes. Stephan played mournfully; Christine had inherited her mother's impeccable soprano voice and azure eyes.

The song faded to an end and Christine, sensing the shift in emotion in the room, spoke gently as she rose from her position on the floor. "You should go to bed now if you want to leave tomorrow morning."

Stephan nodded in silent agreement, offering his cheek for a quick kiss before Christine returned to the kitchen, intent on preparing some final provisions for her father's long journey.

When Christine awoke the following morning, Stephan had already left, leaving no trace other than a few coins on the kitchen table.

)-/-

A sharp jangle from the bells above the door brought the bookkeeper to attention. He adjusted his thin wire rim glasses, smiling when he recognized the familiar figure. Christine softly shut the door before slipping the sky-colored cloak from her shoulders and hanging the material on a nearby hook.

Christine glanced around the small shop with affection. Every table top, shelf, and open space was cluttered with manuscripts, new and old. Christine breathed in the musty air, finding comfort in the contained feeling the tall bookshelves created. They filled the walls as well as the center of the room, effectively forming an aisle of sorts. The left side of the shop housed new volumes, the center those unsold, and the right used books.

"Bonjour, Monsieur. I thought you might have some new books in today." Christine shifted the book she had finished the night before in her arms. "I've come to return this one," she said politely, timidly offering him her burden.

"I'm sorry, Mademoiselle Daae. You've read all the new books," The bookkeeper smiled warmly at her. He had watched her go from a little blonde girl who educated herself on the tomes in his store to the breath-stealing brunette beauty in front of him. "But can I offer you anything else?"

Christine carefully scrolled through the shelves for the next two minutes. Selecting a favorite collection of fairytales, Christine walked back to the counter. "I'll take this one." She pushed some of the coins her father gave her towards the bookkeeper.

Smiling warmly, he pushed the money back towards her. "Keep the book. You've read it two times already, you must really like it."

"Thank you," Christine's smile lit up her entire face. "Thank you, Monsieur." She gathered the treasured book in one arm and her blue cloak in the other, carefully pulling it over her shoulders. Ducking her head as she passed out the door, Christine knocked against a young man who was coming in the store with a friend.

"Excuse me," As she slipped out the door, Christine thought he looked like someone she once used to know.

After the door closed behind her, the man turned to the bookkeeper, "Was that Christine Daae?"

)––

Christine, giddy with the fortuitous perseverance of her new wealth, headed towards the crowded boulangerie across the street. The bakery was full with customers, many Christine had known all her life. She took a place in line behind the only person she didn't know, a mute girl who came in from the far countryside every week or so to buy provisions. Christine waited patiently as the young blonde pushed a shopping list across the counter to the baker who cheerfully took her money and filler her order.

Christine placed her order easily, teasing the baker about his flour-streaked face and dutifully answering questions about her father's much-anticipated trip. Just as Christine turned to exit the shop, a group of young women entered the store all at once, effectively blocking the entrance.

To Christine's dismay, she recognized the leader as Carlotta de Altaña, the daughter of the local tavern owner. She was spoiled, shrill, and attention-hungry, a woman who ruined her looks by insisting on wearing a horrible shade of magenta and sticking several feathers in the pile of red hair atop her head.

The violinist's daughter tried to slip out the door unnoticed, but Carlotta's gaze and particular dislike for the girl caught her halfway through her escape. "Look, it's the little toad. Bonjour, mon petit crapaud. Run along now and catch some flies." Carlotta's cronies giggled daintily at her joke.

Christine clenched her hands. "I'm not the one who croaks when she sings!" Christine threw out pointedly, referencing an unfortunate incident at a local concert last month. Carlotta blanched at the unexpected attack; the bakery's customers listened in rapt attention to the argument, committing the exact events of the incident to memory so they might entertain other nosy villagers with the story.

The Spaniard recovered rapidly, her face coloring. "I wasn't the one who froze in front of the entire audience and made myself look like a fool."

Christine felt her cheeks burned and ducked her head, remembering her own painful performance. Christine left the shop, not even bothering to wipe away the hot tears streaming from her face as she hurried home.

)-/-

Christine spent the rest of the afternoon curled up in a large armchair reading her book. The sun was setting outside the cottage just as Prince Charming was about to propose to his Princess, a lovely scene that was rudely interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. Sighing, Christine set the book aside. Her father wasn't supposed to be back yet.

The maiden opened the door a crack, "How can I help you, sir?" A man dressed in the latest Parisian fashion stood awkwardly on the cottage porch. A slight breeze ruffled the beautiful wave of his short blonde hair as he nervously shifted his weight to face her.

He licked his dry lips before opening his mouth to speak, "Christine, it's me. Raoul." He flashed her a grin full of strong white teeth that once caused the ladies in Paris to swoon.

A magnificent smile formed on Christine's face. "Raoul! It's so nice to see you again! It's been years!" She stepped aside and opened the door for him to enter. Once he was inside the cottage, Christine hugged him warmly. "Father left to play for a manor lord. He'll be back tomorrow."

Above Christine's head, Raoul's smile faltered a little. He wanted to have her father's blessing before he left for Paris in the morning. He sighed, assuring himself that he'd return within a fortnight. Stepping away from his childhood friend, he studied the girl he had rediscovered in the quaint bookshop. "My God, Lotte! You've grown. Where'd all that blonde hair go?" He lifted his hand and gently brushed her dark brown hair with the palm of his hand.

Christine giggled, "I guess I grew out of it. We haven't talked in such a long time. Come sit, and have some tea." Christine tried to walk towards the stove, but Raoul grabbed her hand and brought her back to him. Christine stared at him with a question in her eyes, he returned it with something indiscernible, as if neither of them had ever really seen the other before in their life. "What's going on, Raoul?"

"You're the most beautiful girl I know, and I want you to be my wife." He took a box out of his pocket and showed her the heavy antique ring. Christine stared at him, speechless with shock, daring to hope that maybe her infatuated childhood dreams would one day come true.

She moved away from him and placed her hand against her head. "I have to think about this, discuss it with my father." She crossed the room to stand by a window, leaning against the frame for support. Christine's knees buckled, but she grasped the windowsill before Raoul could notice.

He walked over to her took her left hand in his again. "You don't have to say 'yes' right away. In fact, I want to discuss it with your father as soon as he returns. Unfortunately, I must return to my family's estate tomorrow to attend to some business there. I'll be back in a couple weeks. Until then, we'll keep this a secret between us. It'll give you time to think." While he spoke, he pushed the solitaire diamond engagement ring onto her finger. "Please, Lotte, think of it. You're all I've dreamed of since I left." With that, he grabbed her arms roughly, causing slight bruising in his haste, and kissed her with all the passion and exuberance of youth.

With that he took his leave of her, but before closing the door, he called out, "Remember, Christine! It's our secret engagement!"

Raoul had kissed her. And he wanted to marry her. Christine suddenly winced in pain. The too-narrow ring had cut off the circulation to her finger, steadily turning it a faint shade of blue. She tugged at the ring, pulling it from her finger and into her hand. She stared dumbly at the pretty piece of jewelry before slipping it on the chain she always wore around her neck. It found a place next to the crucifix by her heart.

She had much to discuss with her father.

)-/-

Stephan glanced at the map that lay in his lap. The fork in the road in front of him was not marked on his old piece of cartography, but he could have sworn he had not come across it on his way to Lord Tiernay's manor. Glancing behind him, he noted that mist now blocked the way he had come.

He patted his horse affectionately, speaking gently to calm her, "Well Belle, what say you? Do you think I should take the path that heads into the dark and scary woods, or the other path that heads into the darker and scarier woods?" The mare whinnied to her master in return. She trusted her human retainer to keep her safe and away from the danger she alone sensed ahead.

The mist was slowly becoming thicker and Stephan knew that nightfall was eminent. Clucking his tongue, he urged Belle towards some distant lights barely visible on the leftmost path. When the horse made a neigh of protest Stephan climbed down from his perch and walked to the front of the holstered mare. He gently took her bridle and attempted to lead the normally complacent horse ahead.

"Come on, Belle. There's light down there. Surely, the person can offer us some brief sanctuary from this accursed mist." The mare wouldn't budge when he tried to lead her down the path. Sweat beaded on her coat and she shook her head and snorted in protest.

The sudden howl of a wolf caused her to rear up, knocking Stephan Daae to the ground. She turned and ran back up the previous past and into the now impenetrable mist. The wagon and the secured items inside rattled away with her.

Gasping to regain the breath he had lost in his tumble, the man lifted a hand after the lone-gone horse. "Wait!" he cried hoarsely. He sat there for several minutes breathing heavily before standing up. Looking down the dark path he could still see lights in the distance. Slowly, he began to walk, praying he would find hospitality down the road.

)–—

Dawn's first rays found Christine asleep in the chair by the fire. She awoke from dreams of a man in shadows to the sound of Belle's alarmed whinnying. Throwing the blanket off of her, Christine rushed outside to greet her father, only to find the wagon.

An inspection of the cart revealed cracked wheels and broken axles. The latch at the back of the battered wagon came undone after a few minutes of persistent tugging, the items inside tumbling to a heap at her feet. On top of the pile was a battered bouquet of red roses.

Jazzetry Author's Note: I've been absorbed with the story for the past week and a-half. I read Phantom, then rehearse my part as a perverted bookshop seller in Beauty and the Beast, then come home to plunk out the rest of this story. Sorry this chapter had so much exposition. Chapter two will not only be short and sweet, but introduce the lovers to each other.