Why the hell am I starting a new story? Because I made the mistake of mentioning an idea to The Strange Angels Muse, and she forced me to start writing...again.
Short chapter, I know. Don't think this will be the length of them all though. Oh, no, no, no, this is only at this length because it's the prologue.
Also, I'm rating this M because I'm not sure as towhatintensity certain thingswill happen in this story, so I'm taking it safe from the beginning.Mmhmm, now then, get to reading and reviewing my little dearies!
"You are sentenced to five years for extortion, threats upon numerous individuals, and the destruction and theft of countless properties of the Opera Populaire. I also order that your 'home' be destroyed so that area may be put to a more proper use."
Those words echoed in Erik's mind as he sat up against a wall, looking to the night sky through a small bar covered window of the La Conciergerie. For a week that small, cobweb covered window had served his only release from his cell, where the walls were stained with the blood of former aristocrats whose only crime was that of being wealthy.
"Christine..." Erik whispered brokenly, the name slipping past his lips like a prayer laced with pain. He stretched his legs out along his 'bed', a low sitting bench, folded his arms and shut his eyes in hopes that at least his dreams could grant him some short mercy.
This was all because of one mistake. One damn, fucking mistake…
Every bit of Erik was on fire with rage. Betrayal! He had shown her his world, his life, had proclaimed the extent of his love for her and she had betrayed him! The fear that was etched into her face at the sight of his was still fresh in his mind, and though he had calmed himself enough to return her to her quarters, all returned to him when he saw his mirror. The mirror he had uncovered that morning was still there, as it had been, and it was still mocking him, showing him all he was and all he ever would be. His chest heaved as he looked at it, the image reflecting was not what he had been the previous night. His eyes had turned red from having no sleep and crying that morning to his angel, the normal side of his face was worn, while his right side was still cold and hard as Erik refused to take off the glowing white mask. He would not look at the monster trying this very moment to be released.
But his demons were strong, and he could not deny that even the logical side to him wanted vengeance. He would cause destruction, enough that the new opera would have to be put off for days, then La Carlotta would have a fit and his angel would sing, and after a new triumph, she would return to him with a thankful, loving face. She would return to him and accept his love.
Yes, this would work Erik told himself. Thus, the pandemonium of the Phantom of the Operabegan.
First, came the costumes. Naturally, Carlotta's was first, her oversized gown made to fit only her would be found in a few hours, torn to shreds. Ubaldo wouldn't be pleased at all either when he would discover his lord's suit, ink splotches all over its backside, buttons cut off, and frills ripped. As for the ballet corps garden skirts and royal wear , those he left, they had worked hard under Mme. Giry and Erik had no want to cause her any distress. Erik was careful to place the dress that would fit Christine perfectly where it would be easy to find, but in no danger of being trampled by the hordes of workers who would no doubt run in to see the newest work of the Ghost.
Speaking of the workers, it was time to have a bit of fun with the stagehands, maybe another dropped background? No, the Phantom did not make repeat performances, so what to use…
