A/N: Ai-yi-yi, this chapter was a pain in the neck! I royally suck at action sequences, let alone swordfights, so please don't Punjab me! –cowers- Think happy thoughts! PonR is up within five chappies! Woot woot! –does happy dance-
For those of you who read "Evergreen," I'm doing a double update— both "Solitude" and "Ev" in one night! So get yourself a soda pop and some popcorn, folks, and have a marathon.
Disclaimer: Erik is mine all mine, Raoul is mine whenever I'm in the mood, and the horseys are DEFINITELY mine. But as for Christine, pfftsh. Y'all can have her. (Actually, sadly, no, none of them are mine. Stupid Leroux and Webber and Kay get all the fun)
I physically shook with unbridled rage, my tensed muscles trembling at the unwelcome sight of the de Chagny boy. Christine returned gradually to consciousness as he desperately called her name, leaping down from his untacked horse and catapulting up the stairs to stand beside her.
"Raoul?" Her brow furrowed slightly in confusion as she appeared to get a grasp on her bearings for the first time that morning. My lips twisted into a snarl as he took a hold on her arm, spinning her almost violently to face him.
"No, Christine, WAIT!" he said, his voice harsh with urgency, "Whatever you believe, this man, this thing, is not your father!"
My temper flared, a searing mixture of magma and adrenaline shooting through my veins. In one swift movement I unsheathed my sword and dropped down from the rooftop, growling savagely as I swung the blade at the boy's open chest. He ducked instinctively as I landed, throwing my cape out behind me. Taking a quick step back, he brandished his own sword challengingly. We paused for a moment, sizing one another up as Christine stumbled fearfully away from our ringing swords.
Now, my dear, I thought, We shall prove once and for all who is the more worthy suitor.
I allowed my fury to swell within my chest, propelling me forward with an almost inhuman power as I rammed my sword against the Vicomte's. He lost his footing almost immediately, staggering backwards under the force of my blade. We reached the edge of Daaé's tomb, and the boy fell backwards into the edge of the stone balcony. I lunged forward, ready to deliver the final blow, but he took me by surprise, using the wall to push himself forward. We were like animals, fighting viciously for the woman we loved, gnashing our teeth, growling and grunting as we exchanged blows and parries, plunging forward only to be pushed back again.
An idea suddenly occurred to me as my cape caught in the wind. Grabbing the edge of the black fabric in one fist, I whipped the cloak over the Vicomte's head. He faltered, momentarily blinded, and I jabbed my sword forward, hoping to catch him in the chest. Unfortunately he swung his blade at the last moment, blocking the blow, but the impact threw him backward. I watched with a malicious grin as he stumbled down the stone steps and landed with a thick thud at the base of a tombstone, smacking the back of his skull on the snow-covered cement. He was dazed for a moment, his limbs flailing like those of an overturned turtle. I leapt gracefully to the ground, shooting Christine a meaningful glare to stay put.
I had to give the boy credit: he was nearly as stubborn as I was. He was on his feet within seconds, though he swaggered slightly as blood seeped from a swelling gash on the back of his head.
A pity, I sneered. All that sweat and gore will muss your perfect hair.
Smirking at the unspoken comment, I egged him on, trying to build his own fury. Though I had harnessed my own rage to my advantage, I observed that the more the boy got riled up, the sloppier his blows and footing became. With this knowledge I quickly became the dominant in this fight, opening my chest for what appeared to be an easy blow, only to block it at the last second and retreat a few steps, leading him in a series of footwork so complex it might have been a dance.
As the Vicomte became more and more frustrated and tired from relentless blows, I finally began to fight back a bit, using the cloak trick a few times to rotate around him and fight from a different angle. His bare chest heaved from the effort, glistening with sweat despite the freezing cold. I bade my time, circling effortlessly around him, sidestepping each of his complicated blows as if it were child's play. I had studied countless fencing books in my time, and, as with all arts, I had quickly mastered both the theory and the execution. The Vicomte had likely worked with a private trainer, judging by the complexity of his maneuvers, but the presence of Christine and his mounting vexation seemed to put a damper on his abilities.
Finally I managed to wear him down, and in an intricate combination of maneuvers I spun him in a dizzying circle, blocked his vision with my cloak, and sliced neatly through the flesh of his upper arm. Blood immediately soaked through the white fabric of his torn shirt, and he clenched his teeth to stifle a cry of pain. Beside us, Christine gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. I turned to look at her for a fraction of a second, and in that single moment the Vicomte managed to turn the tide of our fray. Tossing his sword deftly to his other hand, he surged forward with a fresh burst of energy, catching me entirely off-guard. I looked away from Christine just in time to block his sword, but lost my footing. It took several backward steps to finally right myself, but by that point the Vicomte had regained his self-confidence, pushing forward with a surprising amount of power. His eyes flashed like the sea during a raging storm, and he growled menacingly as he put every last ounce of strength into the fight.
It all ended very quickly after that. With one deft flick of the wrist he wrenched the sword from my grip, sending it flying to the snow-covered ground a few meters from my feet. I scrambled to retrieve it, but the boy was quicker, using the tip of his sword to knock it far out of my reach. I stumbled and fell, catching a face-full of snow and dirt. In the distance I heard Christine gasp again, and closed my eyes for the briefest of moments. So this was it. One careless mistake and my life was over. Well, so be it. I had nothing to live for, not without Christine. Panting heavily, I flipped over onto my back, meeting the Vicomte's gaze unflinchingly. If I was to die, I would do so while staring into the eyes of my killer.
He glared at me, raising his sword to shoulder-height, ready to deliver my fatal blow. I gritted my teeth, preparing for the splitting pain…
But it never came.
"No, Raoul!" Christine cried, her voice shaking uncontrollably. I nearly smiled despite myself, daring to hope that perhaps this little battle didn't matter. Was this her way of confessing her devotion to me? The Vicomte turned to look at her incredulously, and her wide eyes pleaded with him. "No. Not like this."
The familiar anger once again flooded my system, my eyebrows furrowing in disgust. Not like this? Not like THIS? Did she not care, then, if I died, so long as my blood didn't stain the immaculate hands of her precious fiancé? I gasped for air as the boy replaced the sword in his sheath, eyeing me one last time with a look that said blatantly, I could have killed you.
I shuddered as he helped Christine onto his white stallion, kicking the horse forward into a quick canter. It was positively revolting… the knight in shining armor image associated with that boy made me want to vomit all over the disheveled snow. I could have beaten him within the first three minutes of the fight, but no… I had to go easy on him, bait him like a damned bull, and now Christine rode away with him, thinking she was in the arms of the more accomplished swordsman.
I stared after them until they disappeared into the mist, my eyes blazing dangerously in the silent graveyard, knowing that I had very nearly been among the dead.
"Now," I hissed, a sadistic smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "Let it be war upon you both!"
I had been patient. For ten years I had gently guided my young pupil, molding both her voice and her soul to fill my standards. How dare she throw away her future for a blasted title and that goddamned pretty boy! I could give her everything she'd ever wanted… ever dreamed of, if only she'd give me the one thing I asked of her. I had convinced myself over the past few months that it was entirely the Vicomte's fault— that he had brainwashed her, turned her against me. But just now she had proven where her allegiance truly lied, and I would not stand for it.
Damn patience. Damn trust. Damn love! What good were they? Christine had untaught all of the lessons I'd so painfully learned over a lifetime, and I was an idiot for being so weak. Now I would take the situation back into my own hands.
I would give her one last chance to redeem herself, and one chance only. Seduction and force were my only remaining cards, and I much preferred the former. Taking a deep breath, I began to formulate a plan.
Don Juan Triumphant would either be my salvation or my damnation. I had poured my very soul into the piece, and if this opera could not seduce Christine, nothing could. If she denied me again… I would have no other choice but to physically drag her down to my lair, keeping her prisoner until she remembered herself and where her loyalties truly lied— with her Angel.
Feeling as if a tremendous burden had been lifted from my shoulders, I left the cemetery with one last whirl of my cape.
The horses seemed to pick up on my mood, for they tossed their heads and reared frantically as I cracked the whip over their heads a few moments later. Without the need to worry for Christine's safety, I urged them at a dangerously brisk pace through the black mud, up through the side streets of Paris, and finally along Rue Scribe. Leaving the whip in the driver's seat, I hopped down just outside the hidden entrance to my domain, giving a solid pat to each of the horses' steaming necks. Then, smacking their haunches soundly and clucking in the back of my throat, I sent them away, pulling the empty carriage. I didn't need to watch them turn the corner and trot into the stable yard; like any other domestic animal, they knew their way back home to supper and a cool drink. The thought of the expression on Curly's face as they trotted into the courtyard minus a driver only slightly lightened my sour mood.
I tried to keep my focus on Don Juan Triumphant as I picked my way through the dark catacombs, and by the time I reached home an expression of grim determination had set in my features. I would not allow the boy's slim success to put a damper on the situation; I was done sulking. Christine's well-being and success would have to be pushed to the bottom of my priorities list for the first time in a decade. After all, she had her precious Raouliekums to wait on her hand and foot now. Meanwhile, I had reclaimed my respect at the masquerade, and rekindled the fear of the opera's inhabitants. Now I had only to put my power to use.
I settled immediately at my desk, picking up a quill and several pieces of stationery. Dipping the end of the quill in my signature red ink, I went to work.
Nearly an hour later, I glanced up at the clock and replaced the quill in the ink pot with a nod. Seven letters were stacked before me, awaiting delivery. I sealed each one with my red skeletal seal and carefully tucked them into my cloak. Taking the stairs up to Christine's dressing room two at a time, I ended breathlessly behind her mirror, pressing my face to the glass.
She and Raoul were, as I expected, sitting on the divan, an open medical kit sitting open at their feet. Christine used a small cotton wad to dab the gash in his arm with rubbing alcohol, and he hissed through his teeth at the sting. I couldn't stifle a smirk at the pain I had caused him.
"Please, Raoul, you're going to have to hold still," Christine pleaded as she threaded a needle. I clamped a gloved hand over my nose and mouth to smother a cackle; he was squirming like a child!
"I'm sorry. I'll try," he said, eyeing the needle with a look of dread as she held it in a candle flame.
"This will hurt," Christine told him, her face twisting apologetically as she drove the needle into his flesh and tugged it quickly over the top of the wound. I leaned back against the wall, watching in utter amusement as he flinched and screamed through clenched teeth with every prick of the needle. It was impossible to tell who was suffering more, he or Christine, for both had tears streaming down their cheeks by the time she finished the last stitch.
"You were so brave, my love," Christine whispered, brushing a stream of tears from Raoul's jaw and awarding him a kiss on the lips. The boy reached up to hold the base of her neck with his good hand, deepening the kiss as his lips moved against hers. Now it was my turn to wince and snarl at the unwelcome sight. With a twirl of my cloak I climbed up through the trap door just above the mirror and worked my way into the ceiling above the room. A vent was fortunately situated directly above the divan, and I pulled the note addressed to the Vicomte from my cloak and promptly dropped it on his head.
Raoul gasped and broke the kiss, pulling back to retrieve the letter that had fluttered to his feet. Christine suddenly went deathly pale, her breath quickening in her chest.
"It's him," she said, her voice just above a whisper. "He's here."
"This is the same envelope I received last time," Raoul observed, breaking the seal and pulling out the note. He read for a few moments in silence, his brows furrowing deeper with every line.
"What does it say?" Christine breathed, her eyes lightly closed.
"Monsieur Le Vicomte,
You might have won this battle, but the war has just begun. This opera house is mine, as is Miss Daaé. You would be wise to heed my warnings and disappear while you are ahead, for I assure you, I have far more power in this place than you could possibly imagine. Order your fine horses, Vicomte, and leave the Opera Populaire by the premiere of "Don Juan Triumphant," or the resulting disaster will leave you and your managers begging for Hell. This is your final warning, monsieur; I do so loathe redundancy.
O.G."
Raoul sat perfectly still for a moment before he suddenly folded his letter in half and tore it to shreds. Christine's eyes bulged, her face paling even more, but she said nothing.
"I do not fear him," he said, his chin raised defiantly. "Let him try his worst."
Christine shuddered, another tear escaping from her eye. "Please, Raoul…"
"No!" The boy slammed his open palm on her vanity, and Christine flinched, squeezing her eyes shut again. "I will not be intimidated by him! Fear is what feeds him, Christine, don't you see? It's your fear of him that allowed him to take you to the cellars in the first place!"
She shook her head sadly. "You are a fool to try and stop him. He's right… he has a power I don't understand…"
"Well I do!" he insisted stubbornly, yanking the door open. "And I'm going to beat him at his own game, Christine, just you wait and see!" And with that, he stormed out into the hallway, slamming the door behind him.
I smirked, twirling Christine's note from one finger to the next. Things were going even better than expected! I could hardly wait to hear the Vicomte's brilliant plan to "beat me at my own game." It was laughable, really.
Christine, Christine, I sang eerily, allowing the note to flutter down into her lap. She shuddered, wrapping her hands across her chest to rub her forearms. She breathed heavily as if fighting sobs as she delicately opened the letter and read it silently to herself.
It read:
Mademoiselle Daaé,
You disappoint me. I would have thought your taste in character far superior than that which you have demonstrated today. I can only hope that you will prove yourself worthy of my unfaltering devotion in the upcoming performance of "Don Juan Triumphant." I have awarded you the lead role, though at the moment I have seriously begun to doubt the wisdom of my casting. Prove me wrong, Christine. You will make a stunning Aminta, should you so choose. If your performance in my opera is indeed as satisfactory as I know it should be, we will progress with your nightly vocal lessons. Until that time, you will have to learn to work independently. Consider it another challenging exercise from your tutor. I shall see you on opening night.
Erik
I did not wait for her reaction before retreating to the nearest hallway. At the moment, I had larger problems to deal with. Christine was naïve and easily manipulated— once I disposed of the Vicomte, she would be easy to reel in again. My other staff members were an entirely different story; it would take quite a bit more persuading, bribing, and blackmailing to get them to agree to my commands.
With a determined scowl and a whirl of my cloak, I headed directly for the managers' office.
A/N: Mwahaha, the notes are back! Erik is ophicially pissed, people. –grins evilly- Let the games begin! Countdown to PonR starts NOW!
Sandy: You're first this time! Happy? Teehee. Thank you, darling. I needed that kick in the butt. Still not entirely happy with that chapter, but meh, I tried. Love you to pieces, darlin'! Thanks for all the help! -muah-
Electricdragon: I love the graveyard scene too, but YEAH, Raoul ALWAYS has to interrupt the good E/C moments. –snorts- Can't he just get his own brainless diva? Maybe he could share Carlotta with Piangi. –winks-
Shadow Fox Forever: Yep, getting pretty close to the ending now. –sniffles- I plan on finishing before I go back to school, so I really need to get moving. I'll be updating like crazy between this story and Ev!
Marianne Brandon: Oh PLEASE. You are the most amazing beta EVER! I still want a t-shirt. Hehe. Omg, Sandy and I watched for the snowflake, and we found it, but it's not THAT big a deal… lol. Of course, it's always nice to have more opportunities to mock her. Bwahaha!
Haizea: Yesss! –punches air- Good, I didn't completely mess it up! Haha. ;) I was nervous about that chapter. YES! Fanfiction has really expanded my ability to write; my English teacher's like "What HAPPENED?" LOL. –shrugs helplessly- I still insist that I suck, but hey, if you all like my stories, I'll keep posting. They're fun to write, even if they are crappy beyond repair. :P
Hriviel: I finally looked up what "mon petit choux" means! –giggles- Aww, I love you, Jen! Thank you. You always manage to pinpoint exactly what I'm trying to get across. If only I had half your eloquence. –sighs dejectedly- Ah well. Hope you had/are having fun camping, ma cherie!
LilyEvansPotter4456: Ooh, I can't wait either. Point of No Return is swoon-worthy. It just sucks that Erik can't say "Oh, and by the way, I looked drop-dead sexy in my Don Juan pants." But all of us phans know it anyway. ;)
Sakume: Heck yes he does! –stamps foot- I tried to make it as much of an Erik-win as possible. –sighs- Stupid Raoul. He cheated! I dunno how exactly, but he CHEATED, I tell you! Cheated! –sulks-
Blood Tears Dying Angel: I loved this scene in the movie too. Much as I hate Christine, she was very beautiful in this scene. Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed my little version.
Venus725: Man, I gotta tell you, I've hated Snape from the very beginning. Always have, always will. Loved Sirius… he reminded me of Erik. Hehe. Lockhart was a Raoul clone though. LOL! Aaanywhoodles. Thank you, as always! Ooh, you must tell me when you post your PotO story; I wanna read!
LoveroftheArts: I KNOW! STUPID RAOUL! And then he has to go and beat Erik. Pfftsh. I love the Vicomte dearly at times, but right now I'm with Erik; I think he needs to Punjab his blond Hanson-brothers-clone head! –nods-
Joanieponytail: I actually added in the lines from POTO at the very last second, just before posting. I agree; it's nice to know that she's thinking about Erik, not the blasted Vicomte. HAHA! Yeah, you think that dress is low-cut enough for her to visit her father's grave? –shakes head- I tried to address the theory of what he planned to do once he got her inside the mausoleum, because that had always bugged me too. Your reviews still make me smile, Joanie! What would I do without you?
Mominator124: Mmhmm, I loved "A Piercing Light of Hope." –sobs- I'm so sad it's over, but the sequel made my day. :) I'm fortunate to have Marianne Brandon as my beta; she catches so many of my stupid mistakes! No, no fluffy E/C ending. Not fluffy anyways. –clamps hand over mouth- I mean… I didn't say anything!
Lady G: -giggles and shakes head- Whew, that one might have been even LONGER! –gapes incredulously- I'm honored, really. That review might have taken as long to write as the chapter itself did! Well, I'm 17 too, hon, and honestly Erik isn't much older than Raoul. He's still devastatingly sexy. –nod nod- I'm so very glad you think I write him well. I try. –shrugs- He's immensely amusing, that Erik, especially his mood swings. Oh, and when he's naughty, pulling pranks and the like. –grins- I looove the "Wandering Child" duet. Their voices are amazing together. It's probably my favorite part of the movie, tied with PonR. Yes, I agree, it really must SUCK to have your ass whipped by a fop. –shakes head- Poor Erik. Thanks so much for the long review, Lyss. :D
Morleigh: Yes, it absolutely kills me to write Erik as the loser. –sniffles- The poor sweetie. He should have won, hands down! Alas, I had to write it. Aww, I'm flattered! Writing the story from Erik's POV has made ME view the entire thing differently too, so I'm glad to hear it's not just repetitive of the movie. :)
Marik Ishtar YPT: OMG yes! I can't picture anyone as the Phantom besides Gerry. –swoons- He's just so perfect for the role. As for the cliffie, LOL! You know what happens, silly! –giggles- But I know what you mean. Sorry bout that!
LaPetiteChristine: Welcome back, Hil! Yeah, I'm going to include NOWL, much to the aggravation of my beta, but I'm not quite sure where yet. I suppose it'll just come to me. Glad you liked those two chappies… HAHA to the Parisian water thing! I'm flying back to California on the 24th, I believe. GRR, I'll be ONE DAY late for orientation, AGAIN. –sighs- See you then, hon!
Noni-Noelle: AAH! –tackle hug- My 400th review. I stand in shock. Well, actually, I'm sitting, but you get the point. AWW! I made you cry? –doesn't know whether to be depressed or flattered- Yay, I think? Haha. Glad the soundtrack accompaniment worked. Her voice is beautiful, even if I can't STAND her! I didn't get into specifics with the swordplay, otherwise I would have gone straight to you. Well, that and the fact that we keep missing one another on AIM. GRR!
Ever Rin: Yeaaah, isn't the Foppermeister annoying? –sighs- Well, he's gonna get payback during PonR. Oh, the delicious taste of revenge! –blinks- Are you SERIOUS? One of my best chappies yet? –in shock- I don't know what to say. Wow! I thought it was just "bleh." Aww, now I feel special! –grins- Thank you!
SubtleFighter: -sighs- Yes, Raoul is the KING of interrupting otherwise touching, fluffy E/C moments. I see your point too when it comes to NOWL… if one hadn't read Kay, it would seem OOC. –shrugs- I'll give an explanation in the Author's Notes. As for the additional details not seen in the film, that's exactly the point. Rewriting the movie is exactly what I'm trying to avoid. The entire story is different from Erik's POV, and I'm thrilled you're enjoying my little tale. :)
XxCuTe.LiL.pEnGuUiN.gUrLXx: You know, that's a really long alias to type out! LOL. Oh, no problem! I'm glad you're reviewing now. Haha, you're sweet. Yeah, they DO make a cute couple… hence, I wrote my E/C. As for this story, however, it's not going to be a happy ending. –sniffles-
Pertie: -gapes, blushes, starts to say something, shakes head, and gapes some more- Wow… what to say to that? I… uh… thank you! You read this ENTIRE thing in one weekend? I'm dumbstruck, as you can see. But "creative genius"? ME? –laughs- No, not even close… but… wow. –giggles- Hehe, I think I done got me a fan! –beams- Thank you so very much! –does new reviewer dance, gives you a cookie and a hug-
Cerebralgoddess19: -eyes widen incredulously- OMG! ANOTHER new reviewer? This late in the story? –does new reviewer dance- I'm in shock here! Tha-thank you… I… wow. Yeah, I understand… a lot of people want this to be an E/C. I might have something up my sleeve, but it WILL follow canon. That's all I'll say for now! –zips lips-
Luisa: -faints- I'm being flooded with new reviewers! –revives and does the new reviewer dance again- Welcome, and thank you so much! The scenes out of canon are my favorite, especially chapter 23. Teehee. –grins- So very glad you're enjoying it!
Gerryroxmysox: -hugs- Welcome back, hon! Aww, well it sounds like you had fun at camp! Good for you! As for your questions, I'll be happy to answer. "Fop" means someone who's obsessed with their appearance. When referring to Raoul, the nickname comes from Erik's line: "Insolent boy, this slave of fashion!" Well, and the fact that his hair flips at the ends. LOL. Two, yes, I am including NOWL. Three, I'm updating NOW! Hehe. Four, e-mail me and I can send you a copy of Kay's "Phantom." And I've heard the additional lyrics; they get stuck in my head ALL THE TIME! LOL.