Author's notes: SORRY! I had no inspiration. But here you have it!
X X X
Chapter XXIIX X X X
"Raoul and I are not engaged."
It seemed very strange how five simple, ordinary words could twist the situation from one's point of view. It took but a second to comprehend the full meaning, really. Surprisingly, however, as soon as the sudden surprise rushed in, it fled twice as fast. Erik continued to simply look at the girl in front of him, almost as if she had said nothing at all.
Christine wanted to almost instinctively close her eyes, but couldn't. she just waited, anxiously, for a response, any kind of response.
"Why… are you telling me this, Mademoiselle?"
He had slipped back into the polite, mildly interested tone, but still completely indifferent to what was going on. Proof of her intentions was needed… and also proof is she had indeed said what he had heard. It was possible that he had only imagined it, she had said nothing at all, or said something different. For praying that senses weren't deceiving him, for consciously wishing to reenter her world and thus ruin her perfect future with de Chagny, he hated himself.
Christine had to turn and walk a few steps away from him. She didn't know the answer to that question. After all, it had been her intention not to say anything, to remain silent, thus save the situation… she couldn't. She was far too weak to sacrifice herself for the happiness of others. If she wouldn't have told him, she would really have started screaming. There had to be a way to break free of the restrictions around them, and this seemed to be the only possible means.
She knew she was risking far more than she could probably gain… but she still had to do it.
"Because I…" she stopped for a moment, having no idea how to continue.
Actually, she had a perfectly good way of continuing, but again, deemed herself too weak to even think of saying it. Childish as it was, she had realized that what she felt was perhaps beyond the definition of a simple crush.
Say it, you damned fool, her mind yelled at her. She wanted to shut the sound out desperately, because she knew it was right.
Say you love him and be done with it!
"Because I… I think you deserve to know…" Fool of a girl!
"Why the sudden change of opinion?" Erik inquired, his voice gaining an angry edge. But yet, it sounded… gleeful? But it was too close, even though he stood almost six feet from her. "Christine, look at me!" He lashed out when he got no response.
As if she were trained to obey, a pet, a marionette, Christine turned sharply, feeling as if some icy hand had gripped her throat too tightly. Her eyes were fearful, she felt herself trembling, like a child caught stealing sweets from the cupboard by an angry parent who would punish her for sure. Moving even an inch seemed to be impossible, her feet weighted a ton.
"You are a truly pitiful liar, my dear. A career in politics would not suit you after all. Why have you suddenly decided to tell me this?"
Say you love him and be done with it!
"I… thought I could trust you, of all people, with this… I… I don't want you to be angry with me, Erik, please don't hate me for this. It… it would seem awkward if I would come unengaged – an opera girl with no connection to the de Chagnys – I would seem like a common whore!"
Erik almost winced. Indeed, she would seem that way, or any other girl would seem to be nothing but a wench… but Christine! Christine was too pure to be even half close to being anything of the sort. "And I would never get the chance to see the world… and traveling to foreign lands is too wonderful to reject… how was I to know you would be here?"
"And if you would have known, would you have come?"
Christine sighed, almost enraged. Was that even a question? Did her affection truly seem so shallow? "Of course I would have come! For the past five years, there has not been a day when I haven't thought of you, wondered where you are!" That was music, beautiful music that could not be defined, even by him.
But then he remembered. "And what of the Vicomte? He seems to be enjoying claiming you are to be his wife, does he not?" The very thought of the boy, even holding her hand, was repulsing… like the night they arrived and they seemed so happy together.
"Raoul… we were childhood sweethearts." Christine confessed, "When I was very little, five or so… when my father was still alive…" she paused for a second, gulping, "He saved my scarf from the sea, and we became friends."
"And he calls you 'Little Lotte', your favorite character." Erik said, emphasizing the Lotte part in a singsong imitation of Raoul, which wasn't that far from accurate.
Christine actually laughed sadly. "Yes, Little Lotte was my favorite character from father's stories. But… I don't assume he told you why?" Not even waiting for a reply, she began reciting the verses.
"'Little Lotte let her mind wander. Little Lotte thought, am I fonder of dolls or of goblins or shoes? Or of riddles or frocks? No, what I love best, Lotte said, is when I'm asleep in my bed. And the Angel of Music sings songs in my head." She finished dreamily. "The Angel of Music sings songs in my head.' And it's true." She added quietly after a moment's silence, smiling a bit, though sadly.
There was a moment when the scene seemed to freeze, when neither spoke and they simply looked into each other's eyes, as if searching for something. Then Christine lowered her gaze, as if ashamed of something she had said, and considered if she had enough strength left to say what her mind continued screaming at her. Looking up, she almost jumped back a foot – he was far too close and approached her more quietly than a shadow would.
He was simply observing her, still motionless. She was the image of perfection, and perfection was what he had hunted his whole life, never quite catching it. Now, however, it seemed just within reach, his angel of mercy, granting him far more than he deserved. Her lips slightly parted, she drew shallow breaths, but didn't seem to be afraid. That last final glance into her eyes was too much.
Neither had even the time to breathe when the kiss began.
X X X
Hurrying through the palace, Nadir Khan noted an unusual sight, even for the imperial palace. A young girl, probably from the harem, was hurrying out of the building from a strange direction… it almost seemed like she was coming from the dungeons… well, the old unused dungeons, since the court didn't usually keep prisoners in the royal palace, but dungeons nevertheless.
Frowning, he idly wondered what possessed her to go down there. Perhaps the khanum had once again had a strange whim and ordered her to go there… or it was simply another sadistic way of torturing her women. The later, more probably, the Persian thought. That would be just like her.
Nevertheless, it was a strange choice of torture… definitely something new. As far as he was concerned, no one, not even slaves went down there without a reason.
Five minutes later, he was descending down the first set of stairs.
Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, however. The dungeons, strangely dark compared to the rest of the palace, which was bright and full of light, seemed almost unworldly. The floors were moist, the very air seemed too cold. Empty cells gazed at him, gaping maws, but the whole set of corridors and rooms was completely lifeless, not even a rat was heard squealing in the darkness. It was the image of an ancient tomb.
Were it not for the complete silence, he wouldn't have heard anything… but he did, or at least, thought he did. It was like being on one side of a valley and hearing the distant echo of someone calling from the other end. It sounded very much like…
"Christine, look at me!"
Yes, that.
It sounded indeed like Christine – it was a woman's voice, pleasant, melodic and speaking in perfectly flawless French. Besides, Erik's loud confirmation of the Persian's modest hunch was more than enough. Well, he had assumed that he would find out something soon enough, since the shah had delegated him with the task of watching Erik's every move… not that Erik didn't know, of course.
To eavesdrop or not to eavesdrop? That was the question. Then he remembered the small girl, the slave, leaving the dungeons… and the terrifying thought hit him. What if the khanum… no, impossible. Erik was far too guarded and besides, Christine was clearly of no importance in the shah's mother's eyes, from what the girl had told him when she was visiting his estate. It had to be something else… or was he just panicking without any reason?
No, this had to end here. He would have to force both of them to see the seriousness of the situation – Erik was too arrogant to see it and Christine was too naïve to even think of something like that. And the first thing he needed to do was to force them to talk, both of them. of everything. If he was to help them somehow, he needed to know exactly how serious things were.
And he would do it now. He would have a better chance of persuading Erik with Christine around. Allah only knew, the man would be the death of him one day, he would either be strangled or put into the mirror torture room, or die a very painful death because of the things he knew and kept a guarded secret. Right now, however…
He continued listening. But they seemed to be in the middle of a fight, as far as he could tell, and Christine's shaking voice seemed to be trying to soothe him. Inwardly, the Persian smiled sadly. He knew no means of calming Erik down when he was enraged, but if she would be able to find it, she would deserve praise beyond praise. That would be God's greatest gift to mankind.
It was only a matter of waiting a few minutes. Miraculously, it seemed that Christine had actually succeeded in her task and calmed him somewhat. Nadir shook his head. Damn all atheists – here they had proof that Allah existed! Who else would have given someone the power to soothe a hurricane?
Both voices eventually became quieter, until… silence.
Nadir frowned. What had happened? Hopefully, neither would suddenly burst out of the door and find him there. Erik would kill him for that. he had by now figured out in which room they probably were. They had chosen most likely the deepest, most forgotten room of the dungeons, which was the largest of all – a true throne room in the underground realm. When he thought of it, it probably had great acoustics… since the voices resonated so well.
I have neglected music for far too long…The Angel of Music. Now there was a thought.
But he couldn't wait any longer. For all he knew, the khanum herself could be on her way, disgusted as she might be by the filthy dungeons. And if she would find them together… Nadir preferred not to think of the consequences. It was enough to say that the results would probably affect far more than any of them could imagine.
Knocking seemed truly ridiculous.
The Persian hastily nearly burst into the room, clearly trying to give the impression he had just arrived. Then, however, he froze. Naturally, he had done a great racket when opening the door, but it took only a split second.
And it took more than a second for the pair to each take a hasty step back from each other, Christine looking down both shamefully and fearfully, Erik's eyes burning when he glanced at Nadir.
He had seen enough. Explanations were truly unnecessary.
X X X
AN: There you have it! EC phluff… of some sorts. Anyway, I gave you guys a kiss. Juicy descriptions in the next chapter! Kudos!