To all my dear readers, beta's and otherwise involved third parties:
Words can't express what an amazing experience this has been for me. From my first cautiously written chapters, solely for my own entertainment, to my dear friend Jenny taking the time out to read and beta for me, encouraging me to get this story out there, to all you wonderful people reviewing for me, giving me the self-confidence I needed to believe in my abilities as a writer. To my sweet friend Ani for graciously providing the faces to my characters, never complaining when I requested a change here or there and making them real to me. To Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber for the gift of this amazing tale and the cast and crew of the 2004 movie for pushing me over the edge and towards my computer. Finally, to my very best friend and sister in crime Beth aka DawnStag for all her encouragement, constructive criticism and amazing eye for detail. For understanding my writer's blocks, for reassuring me they'd disappear again (which of course they always did), for lending me her muses, for giving me her strength when Lord knows she could have used all of it for herself at that time! Blud! Dude, you rock, seriously! ;)
Nothing remains for me to say except: Enjoy, and hopefully see you all again with future projects! -x- Lotte.
Destiny Fulfilled - an Epilogue
Everything that has a beginning, must consequently know an end. Like the sun rises and sets, like a rose blooms and then withers away, like a baby being born, living its life before dying an old man or woman. It is the way of the world and thus, the way of this tale.
But what of the people, you say? The handsome heroes and courageous princesses we have encountered here? What of their lives and their joys and their fears? You would not imagine me leaving you here without the answers to your questions, do you?
Firstly, I believe you shall be relieved to hear Luca Alighieri recovered from his injuries in full. Yet not before having tutored himself in writing left-handed, so he could write to his sweetheart as soon as may be, telling her of his well being and his desire to hold her near again. A prompt reply from Paris arrived, stating the girl's similar emotions, and a dramatically romantic affair by letter was established until the time had arrived for Thérèse to accompany her father on his travels to Italy. They had not been reunited for more than five minutes before a formal proposal of marriage was made, happily accepted by the bride as well as her family. And so, to the great amusement of his two older siblings, Luca Alighieri was wed to his Tessa at the tender age of eighteen. His father however seemed not in the least surprised, stating that once an Alighieri man lost his heart he would not falter to act upon those affections immediately. Luca kept his promise to his radiant young wife, traveling along the Orient with her to learn of its marvelous architecture and absorb its colours, smells, its haunting music and exuberant way of life before returning to Palazzo Persico as its heir.
The next unexpected piece of happiness came from Céline, who one day shyly approached her father to inform him of her wish to remarry. Having stayed aloof after her ordeal with DuChamps, spending many hours in Father Domenico's comforting presence, praying and contemplating on her life she had one day caught the eye of Bernardo Pisani, Erik's talented yet equally shy apprentice. Without anyone ever having noticed, the two had quietly, cautiously begun to meet for walks and boat rides, and had even met up for one of Aurora's performances once, gently holding hands in the darkness of the theatre. She had of course, in time, acquainted him with the tales of her past, upon which her young suitor had been close to tears. Vowing to never hold any of it against her, and cursing her late husband for his deceit, he had promptly asked for her hand in marriage to prove her "blemished" state had no affect on his undying love for her. With her first marriage being annulled on terms of maltreatment and deceitful intentions, there were no objections to have them wed mere months after her brother was.
And what of our Prima Donna, you would say? Well, Aurora had grown up to being just that. With age her voice continued to grow, earning her invitations from many foreign Opera Houses. Seeing as it proved impossible for Erik to accompany her on all her travels, a business manager was found to handle her affairs and report back to Palazzo Persico, at which Erik would on occasion send out correspondence to the House in question as to how he preferred his diva to be handled. What Erik had not anticipated however, was how Aurora would come to love her manager good enough to accept his proposal of marriage. The man being twenty years her senior, and a widower at that, Erik at first declared the very notion preposterous, until a brief glance from his wife silenced him into remembering his own actions where love be concerned and he quickly gave them his blessing. After all, the match was a good one for neither were in a hurry to settle down or start a family, both enjoying their career and each other's company immensely, as they ought.
Matteo too, came to life at the theatre. Complimenting his skills on the violin with an extraordinary talent for composing, he patiently worked his way up the ranks of the Opera Classicale until he was rewarded with the position of House composer and assistant to the House's conductor Signore Ravalli, who had been like a second father to him where his career be concerned. When the old man eventually had to retire due to arthritis, he was quick to introduce Matteo as his successor to the Board, who under Erik's gentle guidance of course accepted. Matteo never married, though his bed was never empty. Jokingly being called "Casanova's reincarnation", he had cleverly learned to use his skills and dashing good looks to swoon his female colleagues at the Opera, much to his mother's disapproval. It seemed however that she, too, could never stay upset with him for long. A song or a melody would arrive for her by letter, as her son's apology for the error in his ways, and by the time she had completed them on the piano her anger had already been quite forgotten.
So happy endings for all? No, not quite I must admit. I did warn you that all beginnings must have an end, even the blissful union of Erik and Christine Alighieri. Erik had always vowed to her he would never make her a widow twice in one lifetime, and to the mixed feelings of all involved, he managed to keep his promise. Christine had never had a very strong health, easily catching colds and influenzas during the rain filled Venice winters. Yet in the end it proved not her lungs, but her heart to fail her, simply slipping away from under Erik's gentle care during a high bout of fever. The house lost some of it's radiance that day, as all gathered at the Santa Maria Formosa to celebrate her life and find a way to cope with the loss of her. Children missing their mother, grandchildren having to forego on getting to know her whilst growing up…and a devastated husband who in truth, died with her that very day.
For though my father would never admit it to any living soul I, his youngest child, could see the emptiness in his eyes, the slumping of his strong shoulders, and the absence of music in his genius mind. He had allowed my mother to depart before him, courageously claiming she would not have managed to continue her life without him, but could he? What was the worth of his remaining days without his Angel of Music to warm his heart and his soul? And so he fled to his loving memories of her, devoting hours and hours of his time sitting by himself in his library, recounting the days of her childhood, their early romance, their days of marriage, with no one hearing him but me. Their story intrigued me, as a daughter and as the authoress I had by now become.
And so I laid aside the attempts at my second novel, already earning a handsome sum off my first, published of course under a male synonym to my father's great annoyance, and decided to record their past. My father would sometimes raise his head in surprise, upon seeing me sitting beside him late at night, making careful notes of his every word in the beautiful notebook he had brought me so many years ago from Paris, before shaking his head at me lovingly. "That will be quite enough for today, my little Christine. You should not tire yourself so. Surely your eyes will not fare well in such bad light." Whether he merely meant it as an endearing nickname, or whether the strong resemblance I hold to my mother truly haunted him, I will never know. I do know however that my presence seemed to console him in some way, and thus I became his confidant, his caretaker and silent shadow.
Did I mind? Would I not have preferred the bliss of married life like my siblings over looking after a dying man? I did not, for as a creative soul I could not think of any better way to spend my days than to learn from his great mind, and the hardships he had had to suffer in spite, and because of it. Man and Angel, Artist and Madman, Creator and Destroyer, Savior and Murderer, Father and Husband. It takes a great mind to allow all these beings to coexist within oneself. And it takes a great soul to accept all these different sides of one man in ones arms, unfaltering and unconditionally like my mother did.
And so you see, this is a happy ending after all. The tale of two beings, two souls entwined within one another so intricately that no force on this great earth could tear them apart save God Himself, will now live on through my writings. My only regret is that my father did not live to bare witness to its publishing. Would he have approved? He would probably have wondered at my interest, stating he had no choice in his path. For it was designed for him by Destiny. The Destiny of Souls entwined. That was his truth…
In loving memory of my best friend, my spiritual guide, my mentor,
My amazing father: Jan Omvlee (1941 - 2004)
"Passing bells and sculpted angels
Cold and monumental
Seem for you the wrong companions
You were warm and gentle"