A/N: Woohoo! Update!

Chapter Eleven: (Un)Holy Matrimony

Charlotte glared at the white dress before. It was an ugly frilly thing, with lots of sparkle…. and fluff. She hated it, it was layer upon layer of light, fluffy satin and lace and some sheer material she didn't recognize. Her engagement ring was just as ugly, a broad gold band with a huge diamond surrounded by rubies and sapphires. The whole affair was going to be a spectacular and gaudy show of wealth and status. It was bad enough having to marry Baron Philippe De Savois- who insisted now that she call him Philippe and not Baron or Monsieur De Savois- but to suffer through this garish extravagance as well was an excruciating torture beyond belief.

I should move to America, at least they have laws outlawing cruel and unusual punishment, Charlotte thought as she was stuffed into layers of petticoats and voluminous sparkling skirts. Charlotte longed to be free from this terrifying duty, but it was impossible, she wasn't strong enough to survive on her own, at least in this man's world…and Erik… Erik hated her… and that face… but in the three weeks since she had seen him last, she had agonized over her feelings for him. It was a terrible experience, to be torn between love and fear, but deep down Charlotte knew she would always love Erik, no matter what… he was her forever love… Charlotte looked into the full length mirror, she looked absolutely ridiculous in the contraption of a dress her father and Philippe had chosen for her… She wondered what kind of dress Erik would of picked for her…

Something simple and elegant… she thought wistfully, and our ceremony would have been simple just the two of us and a witness… tears slipped from Charlotte's eyes as she thought of how different life might have been for her if fate had only blessed her with physical beauty as well as her voice. She remembered Erik's unmatched ethereal voice, how beautiful it was…

Charlotte reached up and dashed the tears from her eyes, it simply wouldn't do for Philippe to see his bride with puffy red eyes.

I can't do it. Marrying a man I hate, a man my father chose, is not strength… it is weakness. Erik is the one I belong with, but he rejected me.

Charlotte smiled as the final button on her vast flamboyant dress was fastened. She slipped the delicate white slippers on her feet and threw the gauzy veil over her face and she ran. She ran all the way down the aisle, without her bouquet. She threw the veil back, revealing a huge smile. Philippe returned her grin.

"Why, my dear I don't think I've ever seen a more eager bride…"

"I'm not here to marry you. Monsieur. I came only to tell you that I cannot and will not marry you."

The grin slipped from his face.

"You… will… marry me… or so me help me…"

"I will not."

Charlotte was caught off guard by the sting of the back of Philippe's hand against her cheek. She reached up, her eyes wide with shock, she felt something warm and sticky against her fingers. She pulled them down and stared at the stain of crimson against her pale skin. Philippe's ring had left a gash on her cheek. There was an audible gasp from the guests.

"Messieur," Charlotte said icily through gritted teeth, "if that is supposed to make me marry you, think again."

"My dear, you will marry me, the contract is signed."

"No, Barron, I will not! I love another, and for that reason I cannot marry you."

"I don't care you wretched woman!" Philippe roared. "I don't care who you love! I don't care what you want! You will marry me."

"No," Charlotte whispered. "I will not."

Charlotte picked up her skirts and turned around and ran as fast as she could. She only half remembered where she was going, but she didn't really care as long a Philippe wasn't there. She could barely hear her father screaming as her feet carried her farther and farther away.

"Don't bother to come back home unless you plan to marry him!"

Don't worry about that father, I have no intentions of returning. Charlotte silently replied.

Charlotte ran and ran and ran, until she had reached the steps of the only safe haven she knew, The steps in front of the Paris Opera House.