Hi everyone!
This story came from an idea that I got listening to the Aida soundtrack. I hope you enjoy it and please review. it really makes my dy when you do! Thanks and hope you enjoy the story!
Disclaimer: I do not own "Phantom of the Opera" or the lyrics to Aida's "Written in the Stars"
...0000...
"For heaven's sakes, Christine, do stand still! Do you wish to resemble a pin cushion by the time we are finished?" Christine turned her head in the direction of the voice. From all the layers of satin and lace, she could just barley find the source. Madame Favre gave an exasperated sigh as she moved the top layer of satin back into place. Her eyes met Christine's in a pointed stare. "Honestly, child. What was your fiancé thinking when he ordered this dress? The material is simply to thick for the style that you wish for. Is there any other that you would like to try?"
Christine turned and gazed at her reflection in the mirror. Madame Favre was right. The dress was simply too much. Reaching the floor, which was not surprising due to her five-foot-four-inch height, the gown was layer upon layer of satin crème. Christine was partial to the color. It had always been her dream to wear the purist of whites, the color of newly fallen snow. Raoul's opinion had been quite the opposite. "Come, Christine." He had said, quickly brushing off her request to order the dress herself. "White is most overdone. You want to be original these days. This is, after all the late nineteenth century."
Too tired to argue with him, Christine had complied with his request and allowed him to bring in his mother's wedding gown for her fitting. It was now that time as she stood in front of the full-length mirror. She sighed. It wasn't that she absolutely hated the dress. In fact, quite the opposite. It really was quite a lovely garment. A fitted bodice with embroided lace flowered out into a full skirt made up of at least four layers for silky satin. The skirt then led into a full lace train that reached about six-foot behind her.
Christine reached up to pull the heavy material from her throat. This was what she did not particularly fancy about the garment. While she did not want to disappoint her future mother-in-law, there was absolutely no way that she would be able to be married in this dress. She felt as thought she would suffocate. The wedding was to be in the dead of summer. The dress was meant to be worn in the dead of winter. As if the many layers of silken softness and less were not enough, the dress also was fashioned with a extremely high neckline, covering nearly all the neck, almost coming to the jaw. She would never survive the heat of the Parisian summer in such a gown.
"Christine?" Madame Favre snapped her young customer back to the present. "Have you even heard a word that I have said, child?" Christine blushed, "I…I'm sorry, Madame. I wasn't fully paying attention." Madame Favre said nothing, only regarded her with a raised brow. "I said, my dear, is there another style that you would consider trying. The one you originally had in mind does not seem to be accommodating to the fabric." Christine opened her mouth to reply, then promptly shut it. Thinking for a moment, a smile began to work its way up her features. "No, Madame. I am afraid that I am going to have to decline your offer."
Madame Favre seemed surprised at her reply. "Christine, are you sure? I am a very busy woman and can not guarantee when I can see to your fitting next." She gave a small nod. "I understand perfectly, Madame Favre. I thank you greatly for your time and patience, but I am afraid this dress simply will not do for my wedding. I think it's time that I speak with my fiancé about a different garment."
The dressmaker's brow rose even more. "Do you realize what you are saying, Miss Daae? The dress was the Countess's. I do not believe that your future family would approve of your desire to change the dress." Christine regarded her with a pointed stare. "With all due respect, Madame, I believe that you are wrong. My fiancé is a reasonable man. I am sure he will see my concern about the gown and allow me to do as I wish for my wedding."
…0000….
"You want to do what?" Raoul stopped dead in mid-sentence as Christine regaled him with her account of her fitting earlier that morning. "Why would you want a different gown?" Christine sighed impatiently as her finance seated himself across from her in his favorite armchair. "Raoul, please. It's not as if I am asking you for a whole new wardrobe. I simply wish to wear a different gown. Is that to large of a request to grant me?"
Raoul sighed as he leaned forward, elbow on his knees, chin cradled in his large hands. "Christine, I understand that it is your wedding and that you wish to choose your own gown, but for heaven's sake, my dear! This is my mother's dress! The very dress she wore when she wed my father. In fact, it has been worn for the past three generations of de Chagny weddings. My family believes it to be a good luck charm for a long and happy marriage." He said with a smile
Christine sat further back on the divan. Her fiancé just wasn't understanding. "Raoul, I realize the gown is a family tradition. I know that I should be privileged to wear it, however, it is just not me." Shaking his head, the Vicomte rose from his seat and joined Christine on the divan. "I still don't understand. Madame Favre said the gown looked absolutely ravishing on you." Christine snorted. "Yes, ravishing if I were fifty years older." She muttered
Raoul sat straight up and regarded her with a narrow gaze. "What is that supposed to mean?" Realizing what she had said, Christine immediately racked her brain for any solution. Finding none, she shrugged. "I'm sorry, Raoul. I don't hate the gown, truly, I don't. It's only that this is the nineteenth century, not the fifteenth. I am young; I want to look young. In the dress, I feel old. If you won't allow me to select my own, would your mother be open to my altering it a bit? For example, the neckline. It is much to high, nearly to my chin."
At Raoul attempt to interrupt, she silenced him with an uplifted hand. "Now, just hear me out." She requested. He closed his mouth and watched her with a raised brow. "I simply want to lower it somewhat. Nothing scandalous, mind you. I simply don't want to feel as if I am being asphyxiated. With that done and a few minor other changes, I shall be proud to wear your mother's dress. Does that meet your approval?"
The young Vicomte rose from the divan with a sigh. "Christine, it is not my approval that you need. The gown is my mother's and you know how she feels about it. For heaven's sakes, my dear. My family is already….wary of my choice for a wife, you know that. Do we really need to make things worse?" Christine's defenses immediately rose. "The why are you marrying me, Raoul. Why are you marrying me if your family disapproves my me that much?"
Christine watched as he struggled to regain his composure. "Because I love you." He said simply. "And I am sure that with time, my family will come to love you as well. But, Christine, it is petty things like this that could lead to disaster. Is it really worth it to risk your marriage over a simple gown?" She sighed. "Now it is more than just the dress, Raoul. I don't understand why you won't allow me to sing anymore. It has been six months since the.." she hesitated. "..incident at the Opera Populaire. M. Andre and Firman are practically begging me to return."
Raoul sighed again. "Christine, we have been over this. Countesses simply do not sing in public. Once again, my family does not approve of me marrying a chorus girl. We have to show them that they are wrong. You are so much more than that" he smiled. Christine was finally beginning to understand. "This isn't about my concerns with the dress or the opera. You are trying to show up your family! It has been that all along hasn't it?"
Christine temper flared as she continued. "You are trying to change me, Raoul! How dare you?" Raoul tried to calm her. "Christine please. You are being ridiculous." Her eyes widened. "Me? Ridiculous? On the contrary, my dear Raoul. It is you who are being the fool. Thinking you can transform me into something that I am not!" Finally Raoul matched her gaze. "Do you really think that my family would approve of you the way that you are? I am only doing what is best for you!"
The young soprano took a step back. "Then you admit it!" she fumed. "Perhaps it would be better if we called off the wedding all together." A look of surprise flashed in her fiancé's eyes before his expression became hard once more. "Perhaps it would be" he answered through gritted teeth. Christine's chest heaved as she tried to get her breathing under control. "Fine. I will have my bags packed in the morning." That said, she turned on her heel and stalked off towards her room on the second floor. Raoul watched her go before sinking back onto the divan. "Fine." He murmured.
…0000….
The sound of the opening and closing of the door was drowned out by the loud sounds coming from the large pipe organ in the center of the room. The melodies flowed form the keys, rich and smooth as one had ever heard. The music held power. If not careful, one could easily be consumed by its haunting and beautiful melody. The music came to an abrupt halt as the masked composer turned and smirked at his visitor. "After all this time, you still make no sound as you enter, my friend. You must be careful. One day I might mistake you for an enemy and that day could be your last."
Nadir smiled knowingly as Erik rose from his bench. "That is would be the most unfortunate mistake that I would ever commit. And of course, it would only come from my stupidity." Erik watched as his long time friend set the parcel that he carried on a nearby table before coming to sit in the chair that he was motioning for him to come to rest in. "Most assuredly." Erik answered wryly, taking a seat across form him. "However, somehow I find it hard to believe that you posses that degree of stupidity, Daroga." Nadir raised a perfectly groomed brow. "Indeed."
A whistle from the kitchen broke the silence that consumed the two men. Erik's gaze flitted towards the sound before rising. "Would you care for some tea, Nadir?" At his nod, the Phantom retrieved two cups and filled them with the dark liquid. "A favorite of mine." He said to the Persian's questioning gaze. "Something I discovered in Russia" Nadir acknowledged his explanation and accepted the cup from his friend. "So tell me, Daroga." Erik said as he stirred his tea. "To what do I owe this visit?"
Nadir said nothing, only took a sip of his tea before replacing the cup on the table and rising to retrieve his parcel. Erik watched listlessly as his friend returned the parcel in his lap. "We are celebrating your birthday." He said as he opened the parcel to reveal a cake. Erik nearly choked on his tea. "My what?" he asked. "Come Daroga, your sense of humor is certainly a one of uniqueness." The Persian struck a match and lit the sole candle on the cake. "Your birthday, my friend. It is quite an interesting story, actually." He said as he leaned forward. Erik's curiosity had been piqued. "Go on." He said.
The Daroga did as he was asked. "I was going through some papers the other day. Nothing of great significance. I came across some of your records when you worked for the Shah. It gave your city of origin, so I took it upon myself to see what I could find. One of my contacts there was able to find out your birthdate. I am sorry to say the year was not in the records, but the month and the day were. November 12th. That is today's date, is it not?"
Erik nodded, still dumbfounded. He was not a complete mystery. He had not noticed that Nadir had risen once again. When he looked up, he found a large cake being shoved in his face. "What do you think you are doing?" he questioned. Nadir only smirked. "It is tradition for one to make a wish on his birthday candle before they blow it out." Erik raised a brow. "Surely you jest." The Persian shook his head. "Not at all, my friend. Now make a wish and blow it out." Erik stood. "Daroga, if believe for one second that I am going to play along with you childish schemes, you couldn't be more wrong. I am certainly no child."
He brushed past the Persian, whose till held the cake. "Now if you will excuse me, I have to get back to work." Nadir set the cake down. "Wait just a moment, Erik. It is simply for fun. If you could wish for anything in the world, what would it be?" Erik turned to face him. "I have already had my wish, Daroga. And it was ripped from me as everything else has been." He turned and resumed his position at the organ. "I believe you can find your own way out. Good day, Nadir." Nadir watched him as he left. "Yes, my friend." He said quietly. "You have been most unfortunate where wishes come in. I only wish that I would tell you otherwise."
...0000...
How dare he say such things to me! Who does he think he is? Telling me that he must change me to meet with his family's approval! Christine fumed as she sat at the vanity in her room. Well, at least I found out before the wedding I certainly stopped myself from making a big mistake. She sighed as she looked at her open suitcase on the bed. Was she doing the right thing? Surely Raoul hadn't meant to be so harsh with her. Perhaps with time she could conform to his family's demands.
She stopped short. What was she thinking? She could never be what he wanted, what he needed. Did she even love him? Yes, of course she did. But as a brother loves a sister. Not as a wife loves a husband. She had to leave. Christine sank back down. How could she just leave when he thought her cross to him? Dare she tell him that it was another man who held her heart? He would simply laugh. He believed Erik to be dead, along with ninety percent of Paris. But he wasn't.
No. Her Erik, her Angel of Music was alive. She knew it in her heart. Standing quickly she went to her desk. Searching, she found a piece of paper and a quill. She began to write furiously. If she couldn't face him in person, this was what she would have to do.
…0000…
Erik pushed open the door that led to the opera's rooftop. The crisp fall air blew against his face as he walked to his favorite statue. So much had happened on this rooftop. He had watched the people below and watched his only love pledge her heart to another, destroying all hope he ever had of claiming her as his own. How cruel the fates were. First to grant him with his face, then to allow him to love, only to have it taken from him.
Erik rose his face to the sky. So many stars shone above. It was too unfortunate that their creator could be so cruel. Erik had never been a religious man, had never seen the need for it. He believed that if the deity could be so cruel to curse him with a face as horrific as his, then he could not truly care for his minuscule existence on this planet. However tonight was different. Tonight he had some questions for the creator above. Questions he would not leave unanswered.
…0000…
"Amelia, have you seen Miss Daae?" Raoul questioned the young maid he saw emerging from his fiancé's room. The maid nodded timidly. "Yes, Monsieur le Vicomte. She left about an hour ago. Had a bag with her as well. She told me she was leaving for good. Raoul's heart sank. She had really done it. Left without even saying good-bye. The maid pulled a crisp white envelope from her apron. "She asked me to deliver this to you, Sir." Raoul took the letter and dismissed the maid. Confused, he opened the letter and read it with a heavy heart.
Dearest Raoul,
I know this letter may come as a shock to you. I want you to know that I am not angry with you any longer. I am sorry for the way I acted with you downstairs. I realized that you were right. I am not what you or your family need. I can not be what you need, Raoul. You need a wife that is used to the social life. I can never give up my music, for it is who I am. I wish you happiness, my friend. Please know that I am safe. Give your family my best and I hope to meet you again one day. Take care of yourself, my friend. You will always be my friend by the sea
Always,
Christine
…0000…
Christine wrapped her cloak tighter around her as the night air blew around her. How times changed. Night used to frighten her, but she had come to know Erik, it had offered a strange sense of peace. Erik. She would find him. She had been to see Madame Giry, but the older woman had been unable to help her. The moment she left Raoul's mansion, she had decided. Erik always had and always would hold her heart. No matter what or how long it took, she would find her Angel. She promised herself.
The rooftop of the Opera Populaire greeted her as she opened the door. How many memories this place held for her. When she had first come to the opera house, she would often come up here to think. Somehow she felt closer to her father and her Angel. True, it was when she believed him to be a real angel, not a man as she know knew. She sighed. This was also the place where she had accepted Raoul's proposal, thus betraying Erik, the man she truly loved.
How I wish you were here now, Erik. Christine thought as she took a few slow steps. She closed her eyes and began to softly hum the melody that Erik had used to lure her through the mirror that night so many months ago. When she reached the end, she sighed and turned to leave, when she heard a sound that made her stop dead in her tracks.
It was a voice. Not just anyone, she knew that voice. It seemed to be in an argument with someone else. She rounded a corner of the building to see the very man that she had vowed to find. Erik knelt on the rooftop, tears streaming down the left side of his face, shaking his fist toward the heavens. His teeth were gritted and the pain was evident in his words. "Why?" he whispered. "WHY?" Christine jumped back at his outburst. Erik lowered his head as he sang a song that broke her heart
Is it written in the stars?
Am I paying for some crime?
Is that all that I am good for,
Just a stretch of mortal time?
Or some gods experiment
In which I have no say?
In which I'm given paradise
But only for a day
Christine's hand came to her chest as she watched him. How she wanted to run into his arms. Erik raised his eyes to the heavens. "Why, God? was it not enough to curse me with this face. Must you deny me the love of a woman as well?" He shook his head. "If only Nadir were right. If only wishes did come true. But no, You robbed me of not only my mother, but Christine as well." He sighed as his voice became quiet. "Please Lord. Allow Christine to return my love. If only for a single day. I swear I will repent. Is that too much to ask? One day in my lifetime to know what it is to be loved in return? but then again, I suppose it is too much to ask from a monster such as myself. I apologize, Lord. Just forget me as so many have already done."
He lowered his face to his hands once more, the sobs racking his body. Christine's heart broke a bit more with every word he had uttered. This man had been dealt such a hard hand by the fates. Must he be denied love as well. Unable to hold back any longer, she went to him. Placing a hand on his shoulder, he looked up in surprise when he saw her. "Christine?" he said, reaching up a large hand to touch her face. 'I must be dreaming." She nuzzled her face against his hand. Saying nothing, she knelt down beside him and took his face in her hands. They studied each other for several moments, Erik, still not sure that she was real. Taking a long breath, Christine drew him to he and gently captured his lips with her own, her hand abandoning his face to find their place around his neck. he stiffened at first, but slowly placed his own arms around her and responded, gently at first, but finally wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close as he moved his own lips against hers
Breaking apart for the sole need of air, Christine brushed a piece of air out of his face. Erik's eyes still held uncertainty. "Christine, you are really here. The Lord granted me your love for one day." He smiled softly. Christine shook her head before reaching up to stroke his cheek. "No, Erik. Not only for a day, but for an entire lifetime."