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"Oh, Raoul, its gorgeous!" Christine exclaimed, looking at the dress she would wear for the masquerade, "you really shouldn't have."
"Nonsense," he said, smiling brightly, "you have to try it on, still. The party is tonight."
Christine nodded her head, still to busy staring at the dress to really listen to what Raoul was saying. Pink and lacy, it was everything she would have dreamed of as a child. It was absolutely gorgeous, far more than she thought she deserved.
"Well?" Raoul prodded.
"Oh, pardon?" she asked, turning away from the dress.
"Try it on," he repeated, "I'll have the maid help you into it."
"Oh, yes of course."
He smiled and kissed her before going off to get a maid. Christine turned back to the dress and inspected it. Two hours, that was all she had before she would be at the Bal Masque. True, as children her and Meg had dreamed of going. Even going as far as sneaking it to enjoy it. Now though, well, the thought of an entire room of masked people frightened her. Anyone could be there…anyone.
"Mademoiselle?" a maid asked, "I'm here to help you into the dress."
"Oh, thank you," Christine murmured.
The carriage jostled down the street, towards the theatre. Christine watched out the window as other carriages trotted past them, heading to, or coming from the theatre. Raoul was sitting beside her, twisting his fingers together.
"Christine," he said, reaching into his pocket, "I was thinking…"
"What?" she asked.
Raoul pulled something out of his pocket and smiled at her, "Why don't we get married?"
"Christine stared at him for a moment, "What? Married?"
"Yes," he said firmly, "I love, Christine, and you love me, don't you?"
"Of course but…" she bit her lip, "I don't think-"
"It would be wise?" he asked, shaking his head, "no, of course not. My family would be unhappy, but I love you, Christine."
"Raoul…its complicated, but I-"
"I know," he sighed, "I just though that, perhaps-"
"Sir?" the driver asked, holding the door of the carriage open.
"Yes," he sighed, stepping out and offering Christine his hand. The party had already started and most people were inside.
Christine followed him in, hand resting in the crook of his arm. She felt guilty to have disappointed him so, and on the night of the grandest party in Paris. Once inside she turned to him, "Yes."
"Yes?" Raoul asked.
"Let us get engaged," she replied, "but lets keep it a secret, for now at least. Wouldn't that be splendid?"
Raoul smiled and took out a ring. For a moment Christine could only stare at the beautiful piece of jewellery. Then she accepted it, removing her necklace and sliding the ring onto the chain before putting it back on. Then they hurried into the crowd.
"Think of it," she gasped, looking at the ring, "a secret engagement! Look, your future bride. Just think of it."
"But why is it secret?" Raoul asked, "what have we to hide? You promised me," he said, leaning in to kiss her.
"No, Raoul, please don't. They'll see."
"Then let them see! Its an engagement, not a crime," he reasoned, "Christine, what are you afraid of?"
"Lets not argue," she said, pulling him towards the dance floor, "please pretend, you will understand in time."
"I can only hope that I will understand in time," he sighed.
Erik glared at his own reflection in the mirror, smearing black greasepaint around his eyes before putting on the mask. He blinked a few times, as some of the paint had gotten in his eyes. Then, with a frown at his own reflection, he took the skull mask and put it on.
"My big debut," he muttered, grabbing the folio with his opera in it.
Everything was ready, his costume was perfect, his opera was perfect and his plan, well, it could not fail. With a smirk he got into the gondola and started the trek up to the theatre and the party above.
It was splendid, as it always was, dancers, singers, aristocrats dancing in magnificent costumes of all sorts. Golds, silvers, blacks and whites. It was all very beautiful, just as it always was, and always would be.
He remained off to the side, observing from the shadows, waiting for the right moment. A few people passed by him, making large arcs to avoid getting too close. His burning eyes did not discourage this, in fact they were most likely the reason why they avoided him.
Below him they were celebrating, and, if he heard correctly, they were celebrating his absence about the theatre for the past six months. He scowled, in those six months they still had not paid him.
As the music began to die he slid out from his hiding place, causing the people below to gasp and the managers to freeze.
"Why so silent, good messieurs?" he sang, "did you think that I had left you for good? Did you miss me, good messieurs? I have written you an opera! Here I bring the finished score, Don Juan Triumphant!" at those words he drew his sword and flung the leather binding to the floor, allowing a few of the sheets to slide out.
He peered around the room, taking in the shocked and terrified expressions with glee, "Fondest greeting to you all. A few instructions, just before rehearsals start. Carlotta must be taught to act. Not her normal trick of strutting round the stage," he snarled, pointing the tip of the sword into the feather of her hat and wriggling it back and forth, much to the insult of her and Piangi. He turned quickly, jabbing the point into the tenor's belly, "Our Don Juan must lose some weight, its not healthy in a man of Piangi's age." Next he turned to the managers, brandishing his sword menacingly, "And my managers must learn that their place is in an office. Not the arts! And as for our star, miss Christine Daae."
He spoke these word gently, sheathing the sword and turning to a transfixed Christine, staring up at him from the stairs.
"No doubt she'll do her best. Its true, her voice is good. She knows though, should she wish to excel, she has much still to learn, if pride will let her return to me. Her teacher, her teacher…"
There was a long pause in which they simply stared into each others eyes. Christine had stepped towards him as Raoul had run off. Everyone else was watching them as well, some shocked, others teary eyed and others, such as Meg, simply confused.
Erik pleaded silently with her, then his eyes trailed down to something glinting on the end of a chain. He could feel his anger return, bubbling up inside his like a volcano about to erupt. An engagement ring, hidden on a chain. He bore his teeth and reached out, tearing it from around her neck.
"Your chains are still mine! You belong to me!"
Christine gasped as he turned away, positioning himself on the trap door. In a swift movement he gathered his cape and ducked his head. As flames seemed to engulf him, he dropped into the mirrored chamber bellow. To his great pleasure, the boy followed him.
Antoinette watched the entire event as if it were a dream. She could feel the tears pricking at her eyes at Erik's desperate plea. Perhaps he really did love her, and perhaps she loved him. But the way he went about it was so terribly wrong.
Even as he disappeared into the wall of flames she had turned and was heading to the proper pathway. She had seen the boy running towards it, and heard another gasp as he jumped through the trap door.
The only reason she knew the way through the cobweb infested tunnels was because of Erik. When he had first completed the mirrored chamber, years before, he had shown it to her. Proud of his work, as he had a right to be, it really was amazing what he could do. But dangerous, terribly dangerous. After only a few minutes in the room she had become disoriented and panicked. But Erik had shown her how to find her way through the maze.
When she saw the boy, sword drawn and turning frantically, noose hanging in every reflecting she shook her head. Grabbing his elbow gently, she pulled him away and led him out of the room.
She led Raoul back through the tunnel and then made to go back to her apartment, to her disappointment, Raoul followed her.
"Madame Giry, wait…" he called.
"Please, Monsieur- I know no more than anyone else," she said hurriedly.
That's not true!" he replied irritably.
"Please, Monsieur, don't ask, there have been too many accidents . . ."
"Accidents?" he asked incredulously, blocking her escape, "Please, Madame Giry, for all our sakes . . ."
Antoinette looked around nervously before ushering him into her room. She never knew what was lurking in the shadows or the walls. She turned the light up in her room and allowed him to take a seat as she began.
"Very well, Very well. It was years ago. There was a traveling
fair in the city. The gypsies. I was very young, studying to be a ballerina. One of many living in the dormitories of the opera house…"
Christine remained frozen in terror for a few moments, then she felt Meg's hand on her arm, "Come on," she urged gently, "lets go somewhere quiet."
Christine nodded dumbly and allowed Meg to lead her off, already the commotion in the hall had started, the music beginning again, though a bit weakly. The managers had taken the opera and hurried off. The event had frightened them, and they put the manuscript in their office before returning.
"Are you alright?" Meg asked as they sat down in the ballet practice room.
"I-I think so," Christine said, touching the spot where the chain had once hung. For some reason she felt immensely guilty, more so than anything else.
"Is-is it true?" Meg asked carefully, "that, well, that he was your tutor?"
"Yes," Christine replied quietly even as tears began to stream down her cheeks.
"Oh."
There was an awkward silence, in which Christine wiped her eyes and Meg stared at her hands. Neither knew what to say.
"Maybe we should go to bed," Meg murmured, "its late."
"Maybe," Christine agreed, "Meg?"
"What is it?"
"I'm sorry."
Meg smiled at her, a weak unconvincing smile, "For what? You have no reason to be sorry, Christine. Come on, lets go to bed. Maman said she's take care of Raoul."
"How?" Christine asked eagerly, suddenly worried, "is her alright?"
"I don't know, I think so."
They exited the practise room and ran into Antoinette and Raoul. With a relieved sigh Christine and Raoul embraced. Antoinette watched the two with weary eyes.
"Time for bed," Antoinette said sternly, "and remember, Monsieur de Changy, you promised."
"Of course. Good night, Christine, will you be alright?"
Christine nodded her head, "Mmm hmm. Good night."
A/N: Wow, sorry for the really long absence, but school is very hectic at the moment. I had a huge history summative to work on, which included ten journals and a report, and physic is, as always, horrible! Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I'll probably not update again until after exams. Please review!