I wrote this short fic in the spirit of Christmas. i hope you enjoy it and please tell me what you think! It really does mean a lot. I hope everyone has a Merry Christmas. If you don't celebrate Christmas, then happy Holidays! Thanks!
The Christmas Rose
"Papa! Papa!. Tell me a story, Papa! You promised!"
Erik Destler smiled down at the brown eyes of his daughter, a smile that not so long ago was a rare occasion for him. ""Do not shout, Aria. You wouldn't want to wake Angelique would you now?"
Ariana Destler's small face screwed at her father's comment. "She cries too much. Why do babies cry anyway, Papa? They're such a bother. I don't see any use for them. Why do you and Mama need a baby when you have me?"
Erik chuckled as he picked up his four-year old daughter and carried her to her bedroom. "Your mother and I love you both very much, Aria." he said, using the nickname that he had bestowed upon her. "Angelique cries when she needs either one of us. She can't communicate with words the way we do. And as for the use," He set her on the bed. "Well, the use is not really important, now is it."
Aria scrambled out of bed and fastened herself to her father's long leg as he was leaving the room. "Papa! The story!."
Erik picked her up and once more deposited her in her bed. "It is quite late, Aria. Much past the time you should be asleep."
The girl remained pouting on the bed. 'But you promised! Please, Papa! Only a short story!" She looked up at him with pleading eyes and bottom lip protruding. "Please?" Her last resort of innocence always worked with her father.
The former Phantom sighed. "Just like your mother, able to strike me at my weakest point." He took a seat on the bed as Aria situated herself under the covers. "What type of story do you wish to hear, dearest?"
She looked thoughtful for a moment. "A romantic story." she said dreamily
Behind the mask, Erik arched a brow. "A romance?"
She nodded eagerly. "Yes Papa! A romantic story!"
His knowledge of those stories appropriate for a four year old was severely limited. "Alright. What would you like me to tell you? Cinderella, perhaps? Or would you prefer to hear Sleeping Beauty once more." He quickly racked his brain for other stories he had told her in the past.
Aria shook her small head vigorously. "Not those stories, Papa. A romantic Christmas story! After all, it is Christmas Eve."
"A Christmas romance." Erik pondered her request for a moment before a slow smile spread across his features. "I think I know just the story, my dear."
She smiled and snuggled farther down into the covers. "Come lay by me Papa. Like you used to." She patted the bed next to her.
"Alright, but only for a few moments." He joined his eldest child under the covers, holding her close to him and she snuggled against his chest for warmth.
"What is the story about, Papa?" she asked as she yawned, but quickly covered it with her hand, hoping her father wouldn't see it.
He had, but pretended not to notice. "Now, Aria." he began. "This is a story that I heard from a very reliable source. I say that because in all of my life, I have met only but a few of them. Therefore they few that I do meet, I trust with my very life. They have told me that this is a true story, full of magic and surprise, much like the fairy tales you love so much. The story of The Christmas Rose"
"Tell it to me, Papa!." She looked up at him with those brown eyes, eyes so much like her mothers."
He chuckled. "I am about to, my love." She replaced her head and he closed his eyes. "Let me see now. How do most of your stories begin? Oh, yes. 'Once upon a time…'"
…0000...
Once upon a time there lived an man. This was no ordinary man, mind you. No, this man was an outcast upon the people. Abandoned at an early age, he had been forced to fend for himself, stealing when necessary for the sole need of survival. As he grew, he had been many places and seen many things, yet longed for the one thing that would make his life whole. The only thing he ever wanted or cared for in his life. He wanted to love and be loved in returned.
Hardly a request to yearn over, you say. Surely it was fulfilled with no remorse, you think. You are wrong. No one, not even the man's very mother had ever shown him one shred of affection. Because of this, the many marvelous things he saw and experienced held nothing for him, for he had no one in which to share their beauty.
Therefore, the man became a recluse. He made his home where no soul would ever dare to look. He went without human contact for many years, relying on one person alone to maintain his knowledge of the outside world. In many ways, she became his mother and only friend and he came to trust her, not something that was easily earned, mind you."
…0000...
"Papa?"
Erik glanced down at his daughter. "Yes Aria?"
She paused. "I feel bad for the man. If he were here, I would hug him and tell him I would be his friend."
He smiled. "I'm sure you would, love. Now let me finish the story."
She snuggled back down and Erik felt his heart warm as he pulled her closer.
…0000.…
Years went by. Many things changed, yet the man's life remained exactly as before. Until one day. One day, something happened that would change his life forever, both for the good and the bad. Something that he would never forget.
The man fell in love.
How could that possibly be bad, you ask? I will tell you. The man did not fall in love with just anyone. He fell in love with an angel. An angel with a heavenly voice. The man trained her voice, becoming her teacher and eventually her friend. Their relationship continued for some time, the angel never knowing the depth of the man's love for her. Perhaps it was his own mistake that he never told her, but as time went on, she fell in love with her handsome prince.
The handsome prince was a fine man indeed, blessed with an appearance that would make any woman swoon with delight. He was rich as well. The son of a nobleman, he held the world at his back and call. Surely he was perfect. The man realized time was running out. Mustering all of his courage, he brought her to his home once more, where they ha spent countless hours lost in their world of music, he finally made his feelings known to her.
The angel knew she had a choice to make. She held the hearts of two men in her hands. One she would take herself, the other she would crush forever. Should she choose her handsome price and live in luxury all her life? Or should she chose the man, her teacher and friend who had given her his greatest gift he had to give? Oh, how she agonized over the choice, but she knew it had to be made and finally it was.
She choose her handsome prince.
…0000...
"Why would she do that?"
The Phantom looked up in surprise. "Do what, Aria?"
She huffed. "Why would she choose the handsome prince when the man gave everything for her? I don't understand, Papa."
Erik sighed. "Most of the world does not understand, my dear. Not everyone sees things as we do."
She met his gaze. "What happened to the man, Papa? What did he do after she broke his heart?"
Her father smiled. "I am about to tell you."
…0000...
Needless to say, the man's heart was broken beyond repair. The one chance in his life he had ever found to love and be loved had been ripped from his hands and with it, his hopes destroyed. Unable to stand the thought or sight of the angel with he prince, he left the country the first chance he received and went as far as he could get away from all of his bad memories.
Some time passed. The man, unable to stay in one place for very long, had spent that time moving from place to place, finally beginning to heal from his emotional wounds. He still loathed human contact of any time, unable to trust anyone after what had happened. He finally returned to the country where he had spent most of his life and was shocked at what he found upon his return.
It was the talk of the town. A new scandal had arisen. The angel had left her prince. Some said his family drove her away. Others said she was in love with a ghost. Still others said she had led him on from the beginning. The rumors were everywhere. For a split second, hope sparked somewhere in the depths of his heart. Could he have a second chance at what he had longed for all of his life? Could he risk his heart again? The questions hounded him as he walked through the streets.
Upon reflecting on his past, the man decided against it. He had been burned before; he would not be burned again. He shut himself away just as he had in the early part of his life, not that he was old now. He turned away anyone who attempted to see him, including his sole friend who had been his contact to the outside world. His heart could not take another rejection. He would surely die if it were to happen once more and it was not a risk he was willing to take.
…0000...
A sharp cry pierced the air, interrupting their story. Ariana groaned in annoyance at her special time with her father being interrupted. Erik muttered a quick apology to his daughter, rose form the bed and went to answer Angelique's cries. Aria shifted under the covers, now cold from having left her father's warm embrace.
Erik appeared once more a few moments later. "You mother had it under control. I apologize, mon ange. He resumed his position and Aria quickly positioned herself as before. "Now," her father said as he stroked her hair. "Where was I?"
…0000...
The man had a visitor one day. It was the woman who had been his only friend the majority of his life. At first, he would not allow her entrance to his home, but she stood her ground, threatening to bodily break in if necessary. Not wanting to be responsible for the injury of an old woman, he finally relented and allowed her access to his home.
She seated herself in his parlor and asked him where he had been all of those months. He did not reply, but she was not swayed. You see, this woman had the ace in the proverbial card game. She was also like a mother to the angel. The girl had been orphaned at an early age and the woman and her daughter had taken her into their home. The woman smiled at the man and invited him to their home for Christmas Day as it was the next day and he had no where to be.
At first the man balked at her offer, but then the woman threw in her final card. She told him the angel would also be present for the festivities. Again the man refused, knowing that seeing her again would only deepen the pain in his heart that he had been working for so long to heal. It was something he couldn't bear to do.
The woman listened quietly before giving her reply. She then ripped him up one side and down the other for his actions. She told him of the angel. How she thought that the man was dead, how she had only ever really loved him; that being the reason she could not bring herself to marry the prince. The man had not weakened. If she had truly loved him, why did she choose the prince. The woman was quiet for a moment. She answered that the girl had been confused in her situation. A heart cannot be forced to choose and make a wise choice in the short amount of time that she had.
The woman glared at the man, stood, told him he had two choices. He could put his pride on the shelf and take a chance of love again or he could feel sorry for himself, stay put and rot away with no one to share his life with. The choices were his and his alone.
He sat in silence as the woman brushed past him and left his house without a word. Her words had left him speechless. Had she truly cried when she thought him dead? She loved him enough to leave the prince, even with him supposedly dead? He knew he had to make a choice. He wanted to be with her, yes, but he was a proud man. Not someone to easily admit his mistakes.
He sighed. Pride could take a flying leap. All that mattered now was getting to the angel. Bursting from his chair, he made his way to the desk. Sitting down once more, he took out a piece of paper and penned a letter to the angel. Securing his cloak, he made his way to the woman's house and sought out the angel's room. It was late a night and he knew she would be sleeping. Very quietly, he snuck into her room and placed the letter and a snow white rose on the vanity and took his leave.
The next morning, the angel awoke. She was not very cheerful, as it was Christmas, yet she had no reason to celebrate. She stretched and her gaze fell on her vanity, where she saw what the man had placed there the night before. She leapt from the bed, ran to the vanity and carefully picked up the rose. She breathed in it's scent, closing her eyes to savor it's sweetness. She then picked up the letter. It told her to go down to the parlor.
Quickly throwing on a rob, she flew down the stairs and into the parlor. The woman and her daughter sat there, their faces bright with smiles. The angel was confused. She knew the handwriting of the letter, yet saw no one else in the room. She looked around for a moment before asking the woman the purpose of the letter. She didn't answer, only handed the angel another letter, bearing the same seal.
The angel quickly tore open the second letter. It instructed her to go into the garden. Not even thinking to change into her day dress, the angel threw on a coat and hurried as fast as her legs would carry her. She reached the garden, panting heavily from the run. Glancing around frantically for any sign, her gaze finally settled on the willow tree at the far end of the yard.
Under the tree stood the man, waiting patiently for the angel to take notice to him. The angel's face broke into a large smile as she raced toward the man, launching herself into his embrace. To a common passerbyer, it was quite a contrast, she in her nightgown, he in the finest of evening wear, yet neither cared.
The man gently set the angel back on her feet and reached into his coat. Out of his coat he pulled a blood red rose and her eyes widened. He told her it was a very special rose indeed. A Christmas rose that would bring a great happiness to whoever received it. She took it from him with tears in her eyes.
Before she could embrace him again, he reached once more into his coat and withdrew a small box. Inside that box was the most beautiful ring she had ever seen. Right there in the snow, he dropped to bended knee and asked for her hand. Her only reply was to leap into his arms, knocking him flat on his back, both of them landing in the snow. As she kissed him, then and there he knew his life had at last changed for the better. And oh, yes. What is that you say? They did indeed live happily ever after."
…0000...
"And that, my dear, is the story of the Christmas Rose. It is indeed a tale of pure love with no-" Erik stopped mid-sentence when he did not hear his daughter sigh in happiness as she usually did with one of his stories. "Aria? Ariana, do you hear me?" It was only then that he glanced down at his daughter, fast asleep and looking quite content. The masked man chuckled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Good night, my love. Merry Christmas, mon ange."
His wife was already in bed when he got to their room. She sat against the pillows, writing in her diary that she had kept since she was a girl. She was so absorbed that she did not even see her husband enter the room. He smiled when he saw her. "Aria is finally asleep."
Christine Destler smiled when she saw her husband. "It's about time. What kept you so long?"
Erik readied himself and slipped beneath the covers next to his wife. "She insisted I tell her a story. After all, my dear, it is Christmas eve."
She nodded. "What story did you tell her.?"
He cold not keep the smile form his face. "The Christmas Rose."
A knowing smile spread across Christine's face. "Ah, that has always been one of my favorite tales of the season." She set her open diary father down. "Almost a classic, wouldn't you say?"
Erik chuckled as he took his wife in his arms. "Perhaps one day, love. Right now, I am more concerned with the moment at hand. Merry Christmas, mon amour. You have truly saved me." Christine smiled as her husband captured her lips with his, winding her own arms around him to hold him close to her.
The long-forgotten diary fell to the floor, much to the oblivion of the couple. It hit the floor with a soft thud, causing two items to fall out. Two pieces of paper and several pressed petals of a blood red rose.