Chapter Two

Scorpion's Den

Light fell across Christine's face, causing her lashes to flutter as she woke. A soft smile played across her lips before her memory caught up with her. Erik...she sat up in bed, pushing her hair away from her face. The room she was in was richly furnished with mahogany furniture. A window, taller then she stood sat open, a gentle breeze flowling through. Slipping out of bed Christine treaded softly to a mirror mounted on the opposite wall.

It was strange but she had thought for a moment that her reflection was going to be different somehow. How could a person go through so much and yet look no different? Her slim hands smoothed out the wrinkles in her wedding dress and patted her cheeks, trying to put some color in her face. Erik had said nothing to her her but today was her wedding day...a feeling squeezed at her heart and she did not know if it was anticipation or dread. She had chosen him. She would not turn her back on him now. She had chosen her fate.

With a few more adjustments she was ready. On quiet footsteps she left the room to find herself in a long hallway that seemed to be dark, despite how beautiful it was outside. Slowly Christine made her way down the hall, not knowing where she was going, but uncaring about where she ended up. Her eyes scanned everything, looking for a trace of life in this seemingly desolute place. She came upon a door that was guarded by a gargoyle head who stared at her angrily. She opened the door slowly and slipped inside, her eyes adjusting to the darkness that surrounded her.

She stumbled until she came upon curtains which she opened, showering dust everywhere and illuminating the room in a warm glow. She turned and gasped. This was Erik's music room...just like the one levels below the Opera Populaire. Music sheets lay scattered and strewn across the wooden floor. Candles lay in different position all over the room. Sketches of various objects lay in the strangest places and atop the piano sat a single red rose. Christine approached the piano slowly, as she would a feral animal. Her fingertips smoothed over its cold, unfeeling surface in silent appreciation.

She gently grasped the flower in her hand and brought it to her nose, inhaling its rich sent. Roses had played a unique role in her life at the opera. They had been tokens of her success and ability to please. Erik gave them to her and when she received them she knew that she had pleased her maestro. In this room there existed a whole new world. A world she desperately wanted to be apart of. Erik's world.

The door opened and Chrisitne jumped like a naughty child. A young woman came in, her brown eyes rounding in surprise upon seeing Christine. She was dressed in servant attire which consisted of a black dress with a white apron atop it. Her black hair was as dark as ravens wing and pulled away from her face, with a few wild curls fallling about her face. Her face became instantly wrinkled in fear as she gazed upon Christine so near her masters piano.

"Oh, no, Mademoiselle, no, no, no!" she said shaking her head. Before Christine knew what was happening she was being ushered out of the room with a very shaken young woman.

"Mademoiselle, please, I did not mean to cause any trouble, whatever is the matter?" Christine asked the bundle of nerves beside her. The woman was looking up and down the hallway frantically as if she expected a ghost to appear at any moment.

"You must never go in there, Mademoiselle, never!" the woman whispered, as if they were being listened to by anyone else.

"Whyever not?" Christine asked, curious. Would Erik mind her being in that room? She did not think so.

"The master...Mademoiselle, you do not wish to make him angry!" she said. Christine could not hide her smile. When had she not made Erik angry?

"What is your name?"

"A-Anita, Mademoiselle," she whispered, looking down at her clasped hands.

"It is nice to meet you, Anita, I am Christine Daae," Christine said warmly. The woman's eyes seemed to spark with recognition, as if she was somehow familiar with Christine's name. But that could not be possible for Christine had never laid eyes on the woman in her life. Anita shook her head before speaking.

"Would you like to break your fast, Mademoiselle?" she asked, clearly trying to remove Christine from her close proximity with the music room. The woman looked close to dropping in a faint and Christine knew it would be a wise thing to do as the woman suggested.

"Yes, I am famished, it would be wonderful to eat something," she said. It had been hours since her last meal. She had been far to nervous with the upcoming performance of Don Juan to eat anything and the thought of food made her realize how tiered she really was. Anita sighed in obvious relief.

"Of course, Mademoiselle, come with me," she said. Christine gave one last fleeting glance toward the music room before following Anita down the hall. She was led to two doors that opened to reveal the dinning room. A table stretched the lenght of the large room and windows lined the walls on all sides, all of which were shut, giving it an unapproachable look.

Christine's blue eyes looked about curiously as Anita exited the room to prepare the meal. She allowed her hand to trail along the top of the table as she walked. Dust collected on her fingers and she frowned. How long had Erik owned this house? Why would a man who seemed content to live in a cold and dark cellar suddenly want a home that he did not even come to?

It made no sense to Christine and as she seated herself she wondered if she would find the courage to ask Erik such a thing. The idea of a conversation with him, face to face, unnerved her. She had spoken to him many times, but he had been a supposed 'angel'. It was simple to talk to someone that you did not think was alive.

But Erik had suddenly and quite unexpectedly become a man. She had never been that good around men. Erik even more so because he seemed to render her unable to speak a coherent word when he was in the same room, unless they were singing. But the idea of Erik being a man was not something she had not thought of growing up.

She had fallen in love with her Angel of Music and knew it was foolish to love someone that was not there. Sometimes at night she would dream of him coming to her, her angel whose voice made longings stir within her that she had never given thought to before. When she was younger she had been overly excited to go to her lessons everyday with Erik. Even when he was being cross with her, which was often, she ws still mesmerized by his voice. The more 'experienced' girls were always whispering to eachother about the more pleasurable aspects of having a lover. Christine and Meg had giggled about it but her deepest, darkest secret was that it was always Erik she imagined as a lover, not Raoul. She knew these thoughts were sinful and as such she pushed them out of her mind.

"Here you go, Mademoiselle," Anita said re-entering the room. Christine smiled as the meal was put before her, her stomach growling in response to the delicious smell.

"Thank you, Anita, I am sure it is just as wonderful as it smells," she said. Anita was about to leave when a thought came to Christine.

"Anita, will Monsieur Erik not be joining me?" she asked. The maid seemed surprised that Christine had even spoken such a thing.

"The few times the master has been here he did not dine in this room, he hardly eats at all," Anita said. Christine blushed, feeling foolish.

"Oh...of course," she whispered. Erik would not join her for breakfast. The Phantom did not dine, even with her. It made her feel suddenly lonely. She had allowed Erik to take her away from everything she knew but where was he? Had she displeased him somehow? Had she failed something that he had needed her to do? She thought desperately but could come up with nothing.

"Mademoiselle, if you wish to see him...he has probably arrived at his music room now...you may go there if you wish," Anita said softly. Christine looked up from her plate, forcing tears away to stare at the other woman. In truth Anita did not know what she was doing. The master was a dangerous man and she should not send such a young and innocent woman to him. But Christine had looked so upset about him not joining her that Anita wondered what type of relationship the two of them had.

"I...thank you, Anita," she said, her eyes instantly brightening. She glanced down at her untouched food and grinned sheepishly.

"I find I am not all that hungry anymore," she said. Anita could not help but smile.

"That is quite alright, mademoiselle, you go ahead, it is not a problem," she said. The young woman nearly jumped from her seat and flew from the room. Anita shook her head with a sigh.

Christine had eagerly headed for Erik's music room but the closer she got the more her footsteps faltered. What if he was angry with her? One thing she feared above all others was Erik's temper. It frightened her unlike anything else and she prayed he was not angry for some reason. She slipped into the room to find the drapes that she had opened closed and dozens of candles lit. Erik sat at the piano, his strong back to her. She took a deep breath, preparing herself for whatever he had to offer.

But the sight of him seemed to shrink her courage and she was reduced to feeling like a small child, unsure if she had done anything wrong. She bit her lip and her brow furrowed as she thought of what to say to him.

"Have I displeased you?" she managed to whisper. She felt herself cower against the door when he slowly turned to look at her, his intent gray green eyes landing on her face. She swallowed.