A/N: This was originally on my Wattpad account, but I wanted it here for various reasons. Kinda old, still very cute. And now, thank God, as of late 2021, edited up to my current standards. Not only is it longer, but it's far better like this, and I'm glad I took it down for maintenance. I hope you enjoy.

It was a cold day, and Claire was simply happy to be nestled in her favorite place. The pub just near the edge of town always had a fire going in the colder months, the multitudes of people helping the warm atmosphere, but her favorite part was the loud hum of everyone around her. Claire had a rather quiet childhood growing up, and her times here were what kept any sliver of a social life she had alive. Not that she resented this upbringing, but it certainly made some things hard.

Jean finally came up to her with her glass of wine, breaking her from her reverie as she grabbed it greedily.

"Thank you, I have been looking forward to this all week!"

He raised his brows at her.

"Not like that! I just wanted company, which is poor, I might add."

He snickered and turned his head as the door opened. It caught Claire's attention too since Jean couldn't be bothered to focus on her for a single second, it seemed. Just because he ran the place didn't mean he could ignore her! Well, maybe it did but Clair didn't have to like it.

The man who walked in, Claire hadn't ever seen before. She would've known if she had. He was nearly as tall as her father, his hair was shiny blonde, though it seemed to be succumbing a bit to grey at the temples even if his face wasn't showing any age. He smiled and greeted a few people in an intimate manner, frustrating Claire considering she knew most people there.

She took a sip of her wine and turned away, meeting Jean's glare.

"You seem to have a fancy."

"I simply have never seen the Monsieur before. I know the people here like you do"

Another sip, Jean only shook his head and left to serve the gentleman who sat alone down a ways from her. Jean poured a quick glass of amber liquor and came back to her.

"He ordered brandy, if you want to get him another one."

She huffed, "Jean, how is your mother?"

Her friend tightened his vest and looked slightly insulted before answering.

"She is doing well, as is my wife, and how are your parents?"

Claire smiled. "Mother and Father are in love and in good health, as always. Father lost his voice last week, however, so mother and I got quite a few laughs out at his expense."

"Neither of you have the healthy amount of fear for that man as you should," Jean said, waving at another patron.

Sipping her wine, Claire shook her head.

"What's to fear? Too heavy on the piano keys?" She mocked.

He went to say something, putting a finger in her shoulder for punctuation, but the man who had caught their attention earlier called him over again. Apparently he'd finished his first drink quick, though when Claire looked down to his end of the bar, she still saw most of his pour in the glass.

Like a loyal hound, Jean went over, took an order, and served something to a few men in the corner, returning to inform her what had happened.

"He bought drinks for his brother and his friends in the corner over there," he told her, casually nodding to the man in the eccentric, dark-red suit. Claire thought her eyes were going, or Jean just wasn't keeping the place well-lit, but it really was that color.

"Why isn't he over there with them, then? And I haven't seen them either. Are they new to town?"

"Why not go ask?"

Claire pursed her lips, grabbing the stem of her glass defensively. She twirled it, thinking a bit as her friend watched her.

"I'll be back," he muttered, another end of the bar without the blonde man was starting to call his name, and Jean was nothing if not a dutiful barkeep.

There was nothing to do now except stare at her wine glass and occasionally glance at the stranger down the way. After all her time coming here, Claire had hardly ever met men who piqued her interest. This one just… compelled her, though she was sure his age would be a sore spot with her father. Though it wasn't as if her father's age wasn't high above her mother's.

Still, Jean was occupied and none of her other friends were at the bar that evening. Opportunity could not have presented itself more for her to go over and make a new friend.

Claire grabbed her glass and screwed her courage to the sticking place. If he intrigued her, then she should simply speak with him and find out why. Her father was always telling her to be careful of men that weren't like him, though he said that was occasionally a good thing. However he meant more in the way of the freedom he allowed his girls. Claire remembered all the years her mother had a career, and how her father had even coached here in her success. The same way he encourage her to follow the paths through the woods if she felt adventurous or read books far beyond what a "proper" lady should be reading. Though he was trying to push her towards a marriage sooner rather than later.

The thoughts almost made her turn her head away, but of course her target had to turn his face just to the side enough to chat with his companion and flash a smile that would have drawn her in from miles.

Claire moved quickly and found herself standing on the other side of him, his conversation with his neighbor falling flat just in time for them to mention he had someone awaiting an audience.

He turned, and she couldn't help the humbled "Hello," that fell out of her lips as she nervously fiddled with her glass.

His brow creased for a moment, his focus somewhere else until he nodded his head and smiled, seeming to come out of it.

"Mademoiselle."

"May I sit?" She asked before she lost her nerve, looking at the stool next to him hopefully.

"Of course."

Her heart raced as she placed her glass down and attempted to look composed while climbing up into her seat. The task was much easier when no one important was watching her.

Jean caught her eye from the other end of the room and winked.

Claire ignored him best she could, feeling her cheeks heat up as she tried to not be another dry conversation from a drunk patron.

"My friend Jean told me you bought drinks for your brother and his friends, that's very sweet of you… I was just curious why you aren't joining them?"

By the look of surprise on his face, she imagined that he didn't get many direct questions from women all that often.

"Well, I actually ran into them accidentally if you are inclined to believe them."

"Oh," Claire understood now, "You're meeting someone, am I in the way?" She picked up her glass quickly and nearly stood if he hadn't interrupted her.

"No! No," he added more calmly than the first, "I'm not, I just wanted a drink, my home is quieter than I prefer."

She hoped there was something subtly meant in that he had no one in his house but him, bar possibly his brother. Though his brother looked far older than he did. Of course, what was Claire to say about age?

"You're not married?"

Way to be bold, her mother would've pinched her for that comment.

"No," he said with a chuckle, turning back to his drink. "I got close once."

Claire couldn't help but turn on the sympathy, it sounded like such a sad tale. "What happened?"

"I wasn't the one," he said plainly, then looked at her oddly. "I apologize, I haven't caught your name."

Claire's eyes widened, and she felt slightly foolish for having walked up to this man and said nothing of her identity.

"Claire Muhlheim, at your service."

He laughed, his eyes bright. "Is something funny?" She wondered, her thoughts going immediately to him thinking her a fool.

"No, forgive me. You seemed shocked at your own name. Mine is Raoul de Chagny."

Claire smiled. She couldn't help it, something about him was truly drawing her in.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur de Chagny."

He contemplated something quick but seemed to push the thought away.

"What are you having?" He asked, pointing at her glass.

"White… you?"

"Brandy."

Raoul took a sip of his drink and she copied him. Claire couldn't help it, but there was nothing for her to say as he glanced over his shoulder, the general direction of his brother. She couldn't really make out anything between them, but she wondered if he was just being polite at this point while trying to brush her off.

"I could let you to your own company if you'd like. Jean looks like he's dying for conversation anyways," she said as if he knew who Jean was. She stood this time, attempting to prove that she wasn't trying to impede in his space.

God, she probably looked like a child to him, and that thought drove her to put the glass to her lips.

"No," he said quickly, pulling at his collar, "As I said, I'm not here with anyone. I am getting a bit warm however, would you care to accompany me on a walk?"

Worry filled her, but there was still a bit of the evening sun out. On top of all that, Claire trusted Raoul, if only because she was so curious of him. She finished her drink and pushed the empty glass towards Jean's side of the bar.

"I suppose a few turns around the building couldn't hurt if you're feeling warm."

"You needn't join me, I understand…" he trailed off, waving his hand as if to explain by the gesture. "It was presumptuous."

"Not at all," Claire said softly, reaching into her purse, but Raoul put a hand in her view, having finished his drink while she wasn't looking apparently. "Allow me."

She blinked, unable to say anything before he pulled out a fairly large amount and went over to Jean with it. He talked to him for a moment, Jean looking at her with raised brows, asking a silent question.

Claire could only shrug her shoulders as Jean turned back and accepted the money, Raoul turning and grabbing her cloak off the rack and heading back towards her.

"How'd you know this was mine?"

"Monsieur Jean told me," he replied, putting it on her shoulders.

He was so close to her, and Claire felt the overwhelming need to be just a little more cautious and a bit less awe-struck.

Gesturing before him, Raoul said, "Shall we?"

Claire nodded, going before him, making discreet eye contact with Jean as she left her favorite place in town. He mouthed 'be careful' and she nodded. She was glad for his worry and protection, but if anything, he knew where she was should something go wrong.

They got outside, and it seemed that Raoul was far less uncomfortable than he was in the bar. She looked at him expectantly as people passed in the streets, wondering silently what way they might walk.

He held in a breath then almost blurted at her, "Again, I find myself apologizing, as I know the wind is cold, but I was trying to keep us out of the eye of my brother."

Curious, Claire set herself back a little. "Why?" She hoped he didn't assume something awful of her, as her purpose was nothing but a proper lady in this world.

"Nothing bad, you have my word. You're a fine young woman, but just that, very young. He'd have me married, and I didn't want him excited over the prospect. I gave up on those dreams a long time ago."

"That is presumptuous of him. I am afraid I am at my heart's whim, however, and it is keen on you."

He smiled something sheepish, and Claire decided she was more than keen.

He breathed, preparing his words. "You are too young. As happy as it would make my brother."

Claire bit her lip.

"Well, then I suppose since my bill is settled and I have my cloak on, I would simply need an escort home anyways. A friend would do," she hoped.

Raoul laughed at her convoluted work-around. His confliction only made his face look older, but Claire didn't mind it. She really was head-over heels for this stranger.

"Escort you home, I shall, then. It is my duty as a man of the people."

He offered her his arm and she couldn't help but mock him. "A man of the people are you?"

"A vicomte," he said shyly.

The brevity of his title did not go over Claire. He was definitely expected to marry if his brother the Comte was not yet married either. One of them would need an heir, but neither seemed inclined. What an interesting predicament.

"That answers an earlier question of if you were new to the town."

He chuckled at her as they walked in the completely wrong direction of her home. It wasn't like she was going to tell him that, though.

"Not even close. I traveled a lot as a child. Sweden, England, the likes, then father fell ill and we haven't left Paris since he died. I try to visit as many places in the city as I can. It makes me feel as though I am traveling with him once again."

"That's lovely," Claire said gently. "My parents aren't travelers. They're… odd, to say the least."

He nodded in understanding.

"Forgive me for asking, and believe me when I say I know I am being garishly rude, but how old are you?" Raoul asked her flatly, clearing his throat of worry at the end.

"I turned twenty late last year."

"I'm twice your age…." Raoul laughed at himself. "Being an escort on your way home seems fitting."

Claire couldn't hold back her own laughter, covering her mouth as they stopped walking completely. He let go of her and looked on, astonished.

"Monsieur, it's definitely not why I am letting you take me the wrong direction."

"You live outside of the city?" He asked, no more amused than she expected him to be.

"Yes, well, I wanted your escort to take longer," she said, smiling innocently.

"An escort is all this shall be, though I enjoy your rather convoluted presence quite a lot."

Claire shook her head. "It need not end. I could always use an escort on Friday evenings."

"That is all I am willing to offer."

Taking a page from her father's book of boldness that he'd told her never to use, she asked, "But is it all you want?"

Raoul stood there for a moment in the white noise of the evening, looking at her. She'd never had a man looking at her as such, but her papa had quite often bestowed upon her mother glances such as these. Wanting. It was clear on his face, but apparently a Vicomte was a better man than most.

"Which way is home?" He asked her sternly.

Claire sighed, wishing she could get more from him, coerce him into asking her parents to let them court. So what if it made his brother happy? Was that truly such a bad thing?

"East."

He politely escorted her home for many weeks after that, becoming an equally familiar face at the bar. Raoul's brother never came around again, which allowed them to get to know one-another as friends.

She did want more. Claire never hid the fact she fancied him and would gladly take him home to meet her parents if he was willing to accept the fact they were a little eccentric. For heaven's sake, her mother used to be practically famous, and her father was never to be seen, but somehow always there. Of course, Claire tried to keep away from the Vicomte that she was a performer's daughter. It might turn him away from her if he ever decided to actually consider her. She did come from enough money to not shame him, but he never acted like money mattered to him.

Raoul was closed about his past that involved his former fiancée. Claire knew nothing of her but that she loved someone else more than him. It did make sense why he felt so burned from such an encounter. If only he would allow her to make it better.

He was her drinking partner and escort home for roughly three months when her parents' begging to meet her new friend finally got the best of her.

"Maman, he is merely a nice older man who takes me home. He's been explicitly clear that my… inclination for him is not returned."

Claire knew it was a lie just as much as her mother had.

"Right, and your father and I are just teacher and student. You act as if this man floats above the ground."

She sighed. "He doesn't want to please his brother this much. That, and he's your age, mother."

Her father tsked in the other room, noting his disapproval.

"Your father is thirty years older than me, it hasn't stopped him… or me," she said.

Claire grimaced at her mother's tone. Unfortunately, she knew what her mother was thinking and could only thank them both that her room was at the other end of the hall.

"Well, it's stopping him."

Claire hadn't exactly told her parents who he was, just like Raoul didn't know exactly who her parents were. There was a slight chance with both of them being prominent in society, they would know one-another for some reason or another.

"Bring him home, and maybe the spur of the moment will catch him and he'll ask to court you," her mother told her factually, grabbing her hand over the table and giving it a squeeze.

The idea was tempting. She wanted Raoul to want her… or act on it.

Convincing Raoul to meet her parents was far less easy.

"They'll expect things of me, Claire. Our situation is already unusual, let alone bringing them into it."

She knew she was being selfish, but her mother's taunt was stuck in her brain. And even if he didn't prompt her father for permission, then at least they would all be friendly. He could come to dinner and maybe be convinced eventually. Claire didn't know how it would all work out, she just wanted it to.

The amount of times she'd looked at him and wanted to lean up on his arm and kiss him… she'd be as rich as him if a franc was given for each instance.

"There's nothing unusual about being friends. Jean and I have been friends for a couple years, he and his wife come over for dinner occasionally."

Raoul glared at her gently, his features not as sharp as if he were attempting to quell someone else.

"Claire, you are sometimes too conniving for your own good."

"I learned it from my father," she said with a smile. "Does that mean you'll come?"

He sighed, shaking his head as he brought his drink up and finished the whole thing in one go. Brandy burnt her throat, but Raoul seemed far more resistant than she. Maybe it was the years he had on her.

"I really don't want to be pressured-"

"You won't!" She said excitedly, grabbing his hand and turning on the charm. "Please."

Claire pulled the face her father could never resist, praying it would work on Raoul as well.

He softened as he looked at her, shoulders dropping and head shifting.

If they had been anyone else, they might have already been in love. Or at least open about it.

"If you're firm that I am but an old man who worries for your safety."

"You're not old," she told him with a smile, overjoyed with his acceptance. "The blonde hides the grey spectacularly."

"I could go home."

Claire flattened her lips. "It's too late."

"We should go if we do not wish to be rude."

Nodding, she finished her wine in a few sips and waved to Jean who was chatting with some of his other regulars.

He waved back, shook Raoul's hand as they passed, and Claire's excitement went through the roof as they exited the bar and headed towards her house on the outside of town.

It was a lovely evening, neither could deny, as the sun dipped lower in the sky.

"I do have to mind you that my family is peculiar," Claire warned Raoul as they began to reach the tips of her family's property.

"I'm sure it compares little with some of the people I have known, Mademoiselle."

She laughed, letting him believe what he may believe, but only time would tell. As long as her father didn't attempt to intimidate Raoul out of the house before he had a chance to be invited in, then all would probably be fine.

They reached the door and they both felt a little nervous, Claire reaching up to knock, feeling it more courteous than just bursting into her house with her friend at her heel. Especially since he was a man.

She swayed while Raoul seemed to shake out his nerves a step below.

The moment the door opened and Claire went to say something, the look on her mother's face stopped her. She seemed… struck, as though an entire life was passing before her eyes.

Claire looked back at Raoul and found him equally as disconnected from reality, but without having to say anything, he answered her in the worst way possible.

"Christine?"

Raoul knew her mother?

"What's the matter?" Her father asked, picking up quickly on the amount of silence. He didn't like the quiet.

Her father's face was the least agreeable of any of them when she saw him. The fact he was wearing his mask made it worse, and his features that could be seen were twisted into a very pungent sort of anger.

"I have to go," Raoul muttered, his visage older with paleness than Claire had ever seen it before.

Her father added in a defensive tone, "I agree, Vicomte."

There were so many questions of what was happening that made this so terribly awkward and how on Earth Raoul could possibly know her mother in such a way that caused their disbelief. Claire was so confused, and her mother was merely struck with a blank face of shock.

She felt Raoul bolt from her side to the street, a pace she'd never seen him take, and her father stared her down, commanding lowly, "Get inside."

The conflict might have driven her to faint if she didn't hear footsteps in the distance, pounding into the rocks as though he were being chased through hell. Claire looked at her father with the most apologetic look she could muster and lifted her skirts, running off after Raoul.

Her heart was pounding, attempting to connect the dots, but there was just not enough thought in her while the man she loved was getting further and further away.

It didn't take long to catch up, as he'd slowed his gait to a labored walk just off her family's property line.

"Raoul," she called to him breathlessly, but he kept his head forward, obviously upset. "Raoul, please, answer me! What is going on!"

He turned and they both came to a stop, meters away from one-another. There were tears in his gleaming eyes, though they looked much duller tonight than Claire had ever seen them.

"I was a fool to ignore the resemblance in the beginning."

"What resemblance?" She huffed. She wiped the tears, attempting to remain clam in the warmth of spring, but it wasn't working.

"Your mother," he answered, but he couldn't keep his eyes held on hers. "Your mother was my fiancée."

Claire swallowed what she had to say. There was nothing she even could say.

It was the final piece of the puzzle she needed to put together, and all of everything made sense. The man who'd tried to steal her mother away from father, her mother being Raoul's missed opportunity for love in his youth. She cried and turned from him as he stood there so far away, just as untouchable as he had been before all of this.

"I'm sorry," he said, also through what sounded like anger. "I am, if I had known I would have never even brought you home, let alone spent so much time with you-"

"Raoul," she whined, turning to him to find him closer. He was halfway reaching out towards her, and if she just stepped forward her cheek would land in his hand and they would be so much closer than ever before to being something.

Claire looked at him, acknowledging they were both perfectly ruined people of renowned and burst forward, unable to stay away from a second longer.

In a second she was in his arms, the most brazen of things they'd done, because friendship and an escort did little else besides be cordial and proper. Her head buried in his chest, and he held onto her tightly, as though he would never let go. She cried into his chest at the thought of having to leave after just getting this. He wouldn't get within an inch of her now, knowing who she was, and her parents certainly would never condone her loving him. If Raoul himself ever would've given, well, Claire wouldn't be able to find out anymore.

However, if this was going to be her last goodbye, then she was not going to play games with him any longer. Whether or not he wanted to hear her, Claire was going to speak.

Pulling back, doing her best not to just lean in and kiss him instead, she spoke plainly, "I love you."

Her eyes burned from holding back tears, but the sight of his broken smile hurt even more.

"I love you, Claire."

He grabbed her face and wiped away her tears, placing his forehead against hers as though absorbing her love for him like it was the last thing on Earth he would ever feel. Part of her felt like it might be true in her own case. Just because she understood why, it didn't mean she had to like it. She was finally having him now, as her hands gently gripped his wrists, her mind memorizing the feeling of his hands on her face. This was life or death, and in the face of death it seemed that he finally chose to love her.

"Raoul," she called to him, looking into his eyes. They were as red as hers probably were, and they looked pained.

Something pulled her in, whether or not it was the finality of the moment, or if it was just how long she'd wanted to do it, but Claire tipped her head forward just a bit and let her lips meet his halfway there.

The kiss was the most pleasurable experience she'd ever had, even through the crying and the inevitable storm that was going to come after it. Propriety be damned as he rubbed a thumb along her cheek and kissed her within an inch of her life.

When she couldn't help but let out a small whine, he broke from her, head down and steps quick as he clenched his hands into fists. Raoul was far away again, and at this point, Claire knew it was for forever.

Her heart ripped string by string as he walked away, not looking back at her but keeping an eye on the road ahead without fail.

She cried the whole way back, all few minutes that it took, and she found her parents on the porch. They shot up as soon as she began to run towards them, and while there were words of hurt and anger queued on her tongue, Claire held them when she saw the serious look on her mother's face.

"Do you love him, Claire Christine Muhlheim?" Her father asked her, his voice clipped, professional, as though they were back at the opera negotiating mother's salary.

Christine looked as tired as Claire felt.

"With all of my heart."

"Your time is precious, and I do not want you wasting it on him if he is unwilling to make an honest woman of you. If you get that man and bring him back to my doorstep he better be all but ready to ask me for your hand."

Claire didn't understand what was happening. She knew the story of the other man in her mother's life, and she knew of Raoul's heartbreak from it. Was this really okay with her mother? Was it really acceptable at all? Loving him with every fiber of her being didn't negate the torrid history their families had with one-another.

Claire looked at her mother questioningly, nearly whimpering, "Maman?"

"Go before we change our minds, Claire."

She needn't be told again.

Claire broke in a run towards the stables, wanting to make sure she caught Raoul, feeling only slightly bad for Cricket the horse as she jumped on him without a saddle and forced him towards Raoul as fast as he'd allow her.

It was obvious Raoul was attempting to ignore her as she caught back up to him.

"Claire, this is a dangerous game-" he said, having glanced back to make sure it was her and not her father coming to haunt him, if his fearful face had anything to say about it.

"You were invited back," she told him coldly, not wanting him to have too much hope if he wasn't willing to submit to her father's demands.

He stopped walking, looking up at her on her horse.

"You can't be serious."

"I am very serious," she said, swallowing the fear that came with the fact her happiness now hinged on him. "You can come back with me on one condition. We have to be courting. My father has been delaying my own marriage for over a year now, and he won't let me waste my time."

He looked at her, his tear-stained face having taken quite the emotional toll over the course of the past few minutes.

"I would be lying if I said I didn't want just that of you. And would you scorn me for being selfish?"

"I would ask that in regards to me you be as selfish as you like, but in regards to my mother, I pray that you no longer love her." Being high in the air made Claire's words more powerful, and she liked encouraging the hunger that Raoul had for her.

"No," he asserted immediately, "I do not love Christine anymore. I stopped a long time ago in fact. I do, however, love you enough to face the man who nearly killed me for her, as your suitor."

She recalled the story from both ends now, but it was hard to believe she didn't figure it out sooner. Claire's sigh of relief echoed on the empty street.

"I wouldn't ask it of you if I did not love you equally as much."

He sighed, looking worse for wear, but at least he had a smile on his face.

"Lead the way, m'lady."

She let out a relieved laugh, holding tight as he slipped behind her on the horse, unashamedly grabbing her waist as she edged Cricket back to the house.

It was a tense evening, but with Raoul as her own now, Claire could hardly say she cared.

Autumn had come, and it had been a whole turn around the sun plus a few months since Claire had met Raoul. In fact it was just over a year since he'd gotten forced-permission to court her. Her father had remarked multiple times that it probably wouldn't work out, your first never did. She was certain this came from their mutual distrust of one-another, though if there was one thing Claire had ever been certain of, it was her love for her suitor.

Her mother had come around during that time to be very good friends with Raoul once again, and it seemed that Erik followed slightly in a complaint-ridden fashion. He accepted it, but his distaste was blatant. At least it had gotten her father to lighten up a bit on the fact she was nearly twenty-two and still unmarried.

Raoul had grown slightly more confident around her family, and while they often got many looks from the knowing eyes of people from their pasts, it didn't sway them. Claire had never been in love, but she knew this is what it was supposed to be. So few were as lucky, and so few were also as lucky as them to have support on both sides.

Philippe adored her, but her identity was hidden from him. They never merged their two families, as Raoul had told her the knowledge of who she was would anger Philippe. Claire didn't like it, but having his permission and being welcomed into the de Chagny manor without worry was worth more than Philippe's complete understanding of her parentage.

The leaves on the ground, and the smell of warm pastries from all the bakeries on the edge of town had put Claire in a good mood in that season. Her life was happy, as were her friends for her.

Raoul, on the other hand, had grown finicky as the season went on. Last autumn, Claire had found him most pleasant, his time spent making sure she was warm and cared for his utmost priority. In the summer, which seemed to be his favorite season, all had been well, with Raoul even getting along with her father better than ever before. Time changed, and it seemed he was discontent all of a sudden. He withdrew from her slightly, and the walk around the park they were on was the first she had seen of him in over a week.

It was tense, to say the least. Claire would be lying if she said she wasn't expecting the worst. If he ended things, her heart would be broken and her father would simply choose someone for her to marry if only because he knew she wouldn't ever do it herself after Raoul.

Something was up, and he knew that she could tell.

"Are you alright?" She asked him, looking up at him, attempting to be brave like the night she approached him. If it was something she could fix, she would do it in a heartbeat.

Raoul gave her a quick smile. Claire didn't feel much better, and she made the frown so he could see it. Breathing, he stopped them and kissed her forehead, saying firmly, "I am perfectly well."

She didn't believe him and attempted a different tactic as he led them forward.

"Are you cold? It is brisk this autumn."

"No," he assured her, their pacing picking up now.

They were headed towards the pond in the park, a place he favored over most of the others in Paris. The city was just out of sight beyond the trees now, and Claire decided that maybe she was just looking far too into her partner's actions. He wouldn't bring her somewhere he cared for just to end things, would he?

They ended up sitting on a bench, looking over the glimmering water of a setting sun.

"I love you," she mentioned as her head nestled into his shoulder trying to get a little closer.

"I love you, Claire."

Her eyes closed in the moment, worry gripping her that he might not mean it. She was content to be this way with him, just holding him close and focusing on the serenity of their surroundings. If it ended soon, she would be happy with what she had.

"May I ask something of you?"

He sounded nervous. Claire felt the same way as she nodded and muttered, "Sure, love."

Raoul removed himself from her side with great difficulty, and just as she prepared to run the other direction, she watched with her own two eyes as he knelt before her and presented an intricate band of gems that looked worth more than she could fathom.

"Raoul," she managed to get out, though that was it.

He was smiling oh-so-sheepishly, and the question hadn't been posed, but that didn't stop Claire from agreeing as he spoke.

"Will you marry me, Claire Christine Muhlheim?"

"Yes," she said, though the nodding didn't stop until he leaned forward and kissed her. She felt the love in it, in him, and closed her eyes to keep all of the bliss to herself.

Raoul stroked her face lovingly.

"Your father gave me hell last night."

"You asked just last night?"

He chuckled, "I've been wanting to for weeks, I'll admit, but I am rather intimidated by your father, darling."

She smiled. "That makes a lot of sense why I have not seen as much of you, and why father disappeared for a large amount of time. Now, come here and get up off the ground."

Fussing over him would be her full-time job soon, and she was quite looking forward to it. He sat down and finally slipped the ring on her finger, and despite it being a family heirloom, it fit her perfectly.

"I was wondering," she brought up gently, looking at her hand in awe, "If maybe we could accelerate the time between the engagement and the wedding, then."

"For what reason?" He asked her skeptically, not that the idea seemed like a bad one considering all the wonderful things that came with being married, but she could understand his concern.

"Raoul," Claire whispered, putting her hands on his chest and gently grabbing his lapels. "I want you to know that as I find your company splendid, other… thoughts have ran through my mind ever since that kiss we shared when we thought we were to part for good."

Raoul cleared his throat and trapped her hands with his own. He kissed them both, and placed them back down between them. She pleaded with her eyes, hoping he hadn't taken it personally.

"We need not wait long, for our list of guests is short, and we are in love."

"Wonderful," she said in relief.

What she didn't tell him was the worry that her time with him would not be maximized. Though it was a distant thought, Claire worried often that no amount of time would ever be enough with him. Older than her or not.

She just kissed him instead, sighing when he was the one to break their kiss. There was just so much more promised in them now that it was hard for Claire not to break propriety right there on the park bench.

Their wedding was just after the new year on a cold January day. The church, her dress, and her new husband had been warm, however, and everything fell into place quite splendidly with her family and his there. Of course, it had meant that Philippe was forced to find out who exactly Claire was, but he got over it with the promise of strong and healthy heirs to not only the de Chagny title, but also Claire's own inheritance as well.

They didn't forget Jean in the festivities either, even with his wife expecting. Claire was honored with the most perfect wedding gift, too, of being the child's god-mother, and even her namesake. Another Claire.

Raoul argued that she was enough for the whole town, as he held her in his arms that first night as a married pair. All she felt was him behind her, and the cold of winter melted away as though God himself blessed their marriage.

Christine and Erik were reluctantly proud of their son-in-law after a while. If anything, they were simply happy that their daughter was the happiest Vicomtess on their side of Paris. Raoul treated her like nothing less than a queen.

Of course, there were many people besides Raoul's own brother, who didn't quite think their union a good idea, or a union at all.

His brother was a whole work of himself, as he vaulted often from wanting Raoul to be happy and produce de Chagny heirs, and Claire's heritage giving him pause when she began to inhabit the manor. He liked the idea of her being a wife for Raoul, but he didn't necessarily like that it was her.

It wasn't like the poor man had any deficiencies in his marriage, and at least he was married, Claire had thought to herself when she was hiding away in their room, overhearing the argument Raoul never tried to let her hear. It was best that Philippe didn't even live at the manor, merely stayed there when business called for it. Else, he was on the outskirts of France.

Claire's life in the manor was much more serene when Philippe wasn't visiting, and Raoul agreed.

They spent the first cold months of the year after their marriage discussing little else other than what to eat for their evening meal, or whether they should visit Jean and the family. Children hadn't really been their focus, but Christine had hinted to it a few times that she would like to dote on grandchildren if she were ever so lucky.

Claire fought one battle with her husband at a time, but she was sure with their amorous activities that it wasn't out of the realm of possibility. It simply hadn't been discussed.

Until it was an unavoidable conversation that came with some of the harder topics.

They were in the market one early morning when the fancy had struck them, to get some apples for a pie they were going to make all on their own, much to the chagrin of the de Chagny staff.

Claire was polite in greeting the vendor, as was Raoul, but the man began to assume things as he spoke to them. Mentioning how lovely it was that a father and daughter could still have days together, even as they both got older.

Raoul had gone silent, and Claire was left with the duty of informing him that they were in fact married, and had been for a few months. They'd known one-another for two years at that point, and she didn't think he'd aged a day since she laid eyes on him. If anything, she looked older to match.

The man apologized, but to hell if it didn't cause a huge blow to Raoul's sanity.

As they were married and one-another's most trusted friend, it was obvious to Claire that her husband was having a hard time accepting their dynamic that day.

They had nearly retired for the evening, when Claire finished brushing her hair and traveled over to the mirror where Raoul was standing. Still in his head, she attempted to rescue him and reassure him that all was well. However, when she touched him, he jerked away, heading towards their bed.

"Don't," he warned her. "I've never felt more perverse. I mean for God's sake, I nearly was your father."

He'd backed himself into a corner, literally, as he stood on his side of the bed, leaning against the wall.

"Darling, you don't look your age. I think he was seeing things. Well, I don't really think he was seeing much at all, didn't his pupils look a little foggy to you?" She tried, but he only waved her off.

"I don't need pity, Claire."

She huffed. He hardly ever took this tone with her.

"Go to bed. I, for one, will not tolerate that attitude."

"Well you won't need to tolerate it for long," he continued while she settled into their bed, unable to keep eye-contact with him. "I mean, if I look a fatherly age, I might as well be close to death, too."

Claire turned on her side away from him. He was being ridiculous. She was all ready to comfort him and attempt to soothe his worries in whatever means he fancied, but retaliation was not an option.

"Go to bed," she told him again, pulling their covers up close to her face.

"With a woman who should be my daughter's age?" He sounded distraught, now, but her sympathy had faded when he'd snapped at her. "And what if we have children, Claire? Will I be around to deflect young gentleman from courting the girls, or will I be old enough to direct a boy in the right direction of business? Or will I be feed for the flowers that you plant on my grave?"

Unable to take another word, she sat up and looked directly at him.

She was startled at the look in her husband's eye. Even Philippe didn't get to him like this, but that's because she supposed it was mostly sibling jealousy that caused the man to be so cruel. This was a blunt stranger, and he had taken the final hit to her husband's capacity for ridicule.

There were tears in his eyes, and the redness made the blue prominent even in dim candlelight. His chest was moving erratically, and Claire felt a whole mix of emotions for him, though the perturbed one hadn't gone away.

"Raoul," she said if only to calm him down before saying her peace. Claire repeated his name and got up, putting her hands to his face and stroking his cheeks. "Raoul, you are the most loving man, and your health is fine. Even your doctor says so. I think so."

She pressed up against him and placed her head on his chest, just holding him at this point.

"And… well, children come or they do not. We cannot control it as much as we'd like. I chose you. Do not take that lightly because I could have had anyone, and you know it. I wanted you, age or not. I got my parents to accept you into my house, even! A stranger on the street is nothing compared to how much I love you, silly. So will you come to bed with your wife? I am nothing else. Just your wife."

A held-in breath was released, and she prayed into his nightshirt that he'd taken her words to heart.

"A wife who has ordered me to bed not once, but thrice, and is still sitting here deserves to be listened to," he said calmly. "Thank you."

The added whisper made her tear up this time, but in the practically extinguished light of a candle, no one would know. Especially as Raoul closed his eyes and kissed her.

His lips moved apologetically on hers, and the love he made to her that evening was soft but no less passionate than usual.

So it was only right that come in the heat of summer, Claire succumbed to her first bout of sickness.

The first time he was witness to it, however was at supper, and Raoul had blamed it on the bad wine, but there was a bit of doubt in Claire considering she had a little more insight as to what her body had been doing the past two months.

He had placed her on the couch as the sun went down, then carried her to bed for the night where he held her despite the heat of summer.

In the morning, Raoul had decided that Claire needed fresh air, though all she really wanted was a mid-morning nap from her exhausting bout of sleep. Having talked to her mother at supper the week before, Claire was certain of the news she had to give him, but wasn't entirely sure when to present it.

He practically forced her to take the walk, claiming exercise and fresh air abated most symptoms of sickness.

She dressed modestly, her mother told her not to dawn any corsets or such, which was an alluring idea in the heat of July.

Though it had Raoul concerned as he put his arm around her waist halfway through the park. How he didn't notice before was probably because her husband wasn't the most perceptive of men. She'd almost gotten away with him not noticing at all, if he had just held her hand. It was funny to her his ignorance, sometimes, even with all of his years.

"My dearest wife," he said with concern as he steered her a little closer to the edge of the path like it would hide her from other's view.

"Yes, husband?"

"I… don't require it in the house, but polite society does suggest you should wear your under things. We already attract enough attention," he stated worriedly.

Claire understood her rope was longer than most, however as a Vicomtess, certain things were expected of her and Raoul.

They were near where he had proposed, so she supposed her secret needn't be kept any longer. Though Christine had said it's better to wait until the first few months have passed to tell others, her mother was still guilty of telling Erik about Claire after only her first missed cycle.

"Raoul," she said quietly, turning in front of him and looking up with a smile.

He raised a brow, patient and handsy as his fingers gripped her uncorseted waist greedily. It wasn't that he didn't like her like this, that was for certain.

"Raoul, I'm pregnant."

When the news had finally been voiced, Raoul's face fell flat, looking like he'd just heard about the death of a relative. Then, he put his forehead to hers and teased her with what she thought would be a kiss, instead asking, "You're certain?"

"As certain as I am of our love," she confirmed, wondering with fierce protection that maybe it was not what he wanted. However, his hands on her waist pulled her ever closer, and his lips finally connected with hers.

Then she was lifted into the air quite unceremoniously.

"I'm going to be a father!" He nearly yelled, garnering much attention, though most simply smiled instead of giving them strange looks.

"Yes," Claire laughed, "And I a mother, sometime in February."

Her husband's smile was contagious, and her parents' joy matched.

The change in Raoul's relationship with her father was profound when he learned of the news. It was as if giving him a grandchild was the final wall to be torn down between them. They still weren't the best of friends, Claire never expected them to be, but when their son arrived into the world and Raoul told her what a calming presence her father had been through the twelve hours it took, she couldn't deny that all had been forgiven.

Philippe was equally excited for the child to be a boy, and he was even less on-edge than usual when the entire group gathered.

Her and Raoul's son was a unifying presence, and it made them more than happy to be able to join everyone at the table and not have it be near-silent for the whole meal.

William grew fast and playful as the months went on. He was close to a year old when his first Christmas came around and an invitation had been made by her parents to hold the holiday at their house. Claire couldn't have been more thankful someone else besides her would be hosting.

As much help as she was offered being a Vicomtess, Claire preferred to do most of it herself. Raoul was also around as much as possible, so their au pair got paid a fine salary for very little work. However working with their child on her own left little time to play hostess.

When her husband came down the stairs of the silent manor with their child, she couldn't help but melt inside. It was quiet as they'd sent everyone home to enjoy the holidays with their families, and they were headed off to do the same thing. Philippe, unfortunately had gone to spend the winter somewhere warm due to his now-aching joints.

Claire rushed towards them, throwing her arms around her husband and child, cracking a smile as William began to giggle at her.

"Maman is very eager, isn't she William?"

The child only laughed in response. Both parents could agree that the sound was easily their favorite.

"I love you," she told Raoul, kissing him on the lips and then giving her son a kiss as well.

"I love you. Doesn't he look handsome in his little suit clothes?"

"They won't last a minute once mother gets ahold of him," Claire told her husband, taking the boy from his arms.

"But he is a dashing boy," Raoul said.

There was probably worry creeping into his mind again, but Claire wouldn't hear of it on such a wondrous day.

"He is as handsome as his father, and that's not an easy feat. Now, if you would grab the presents and we'll take the carriage?"

"Making me do menial work and forcing me to drive our carriage? You're a horrible wife."

She laughed at him, grabbing William's outer clothes from the closet by the door of the manor. It was like being home again, getting everything for herself and locating things in her home without the help of better-knowing staff. Of course, Claire had been living with Raoul for almost two years now, it was no longer hard for her to navigate the large home.

However she did occasionally miss the comparably small lay-out of her childhood home. That's why this holiday was extra special as Raoul came back with their gifts in hand, his extra-heavy traveling cloak tightened about him.

"Off we go," he said with a smile, kissing her again, letting himself linger until their child batted at their faces with their names on his lips, and reminded them they should indeed be headed out.

The ride was short, and William seemed to know exactly where he was as his face lit up at the sight of the house.

"Grandma!" He called, unable to hide his bias for Claire's mother.

Christine didn't even wait for them to get inside before running into the snow and scoping up her grandson from his mother's arms. It did allow Claire to reduce the burden of gifts for Raoul, freeing up his arm to wrap around her protectively.

They settled in by the fire in the main sitting room, Claire catching up with her father on the couch as Raoul sat on the ledge of the bay windows, watching Christine on the floor with William.

It wasn't often Claire truly worried over her husband's previous love for her mother, but it did touch her mind in times like this. Raoul simply had an intense gaze, focused and calm, and who wouldn't want to watch over their child as someone else handled them?

Erik picked up on this and immediately quelled the worry.

"If he still loved her, then he is a far better actor than your mother ever was," he leaned in and whispered to her.

Claire sighed.

"I'm not worried," she said, scooting closer on the sofa to snuggle into his embrace. "Truly. My mind is but a traitor and runs off with these thoughts sometimes."

Her father kissed her head and hummed.

"As long as you know it's irrational. That man loves you as much as I love your mother... Barely," he added jokingly, letting her laugh at him.

"I think you have a visitor," Raoul interrupted them suddenly, his gaze focused out the window.

Erik got up, donning a more fierce stature than the one he carried around his family. He looked out the window next to Raoul and chuckled, calming almost immediately.

"That man has horrid timing."

It wasn't an unpleasant tone, and Claire had an inkling of who exactly it might be. God, it must have been years since she'd seen her Uncle Nadir! At least before Raoul had come into her life, anyways.

Her father beat her to the door and yelled straight out, "You idiot. Out of the cold with you!"

Claire stood behind her father peering over his shoulder like a child. It had been four years now that she thought about it, since she'd seen him.

Her mother was behind them with William in her arms, attempting to explain the situation to the infant with his father lingering on the side.

Nadir unmounted his horse and seemed careless in tossing the reins, rushing forward.

"Hush old man, I survived the desert I can survive the snow," he returned, hugging her father. "Merry Christmas, Erik."

"I'd wish you the same back if you wanted it."

Nadir chuckled and turned to look right at Claire.

"Allah, you've grown."

"And married," she said with a smile, stealing a hug of her own from the man. "It's good to see you, Uncle."

"Merry Christmas, I figured my presence was good enough."

Claire only snickered, peeling away so he could look at her mother. He was thoroughly shocked at the sight of the young child, shy in the wake of a stranger.

"Erik, you didn't have another one this late, did you?"

"He's not mine," Christine said, jerking her head towards her daughter.

"Married and a child, wow. And where's your young man?"

The room stilled to a deaf silence as Nadir grazed right over Raoul for the title of her husband. He hadn't even been a consideration.

"Darling?" Claire reached for him, pulling Raoul over in front of Nadir and settling into his side.

Nadir's eyes focused quickly, obviously recognizing him. He seemed to try to rationalize it away.

"Vicomte? Erik," the foreign man let out a nervous laugh and added, "You're jesting. He must be the boy's grandfather."

"No, you impertinent Persian," Erik snarled. It was the most defense Erik had ever taken over Raoul as his son-in-law, and it would probably only be just this once.

"Excuse me," Raoul muttered, bowing out of her grip which was slack from shock, his footsteps light as he left through the door, closing it behind him softly. It was cold outside, and they all watched him trot towards their carriage as if there weren't snow gathering in his hair.

"I'm sorry Claire, my dear, I just have to say I am shocked-"

"It's understandable," she said, barely hearing him. She was transfixed by the way her husband's head hung so very low. It was heartbreaking.

Christine glanced sideways at her child and lifted William up further on her hip.

"Nadir, you silly man, I haven't gotten my hug yet."

The rest of their words faded as Claire grabbed her and Raoul's cloaks, certain that they would not be returning to the house that evening. Her mother would watch William, she loved to do it.

What truly struck her heart was the composure being lost. He'd never been angry with these situations before, not to the point of slamming the carriage door closed and shouting. She hoped her parents were too concerned with William and Uncle Nadir to worry over it.

Running, hoping he was only hurting his pride and not himself, Claire heaved a breath before opening the door.

"Go back," he commanded her, looking as though he might be feral.

"Do not speak to me that way," she commanded, firm as though her lips were not quivering.

His frantic look dulled, but tears followed them, and Claire practically had to stumble into the carriage to keep him from falling to the floor.

"Darling, I'm sorry for my uncle, but he knows Papa better than anyone, even Maman. He just suspected different standards. Please don't doubt our love again, I can't take it if you do."

"No," he rasped, tears straining his voice, the fabric on her chest growing wet and damp as they leaned awkwardly in the cab of the carriage against one-another. "I do nothing but worry now. What will come of you and William when I am no longer able to be there for you? I am not blind to the fact you will both spend many years without me. God, Claire, what was I thinking?"

"You were thinking you loved me."

"I do," he said, looking up at her now, "I do, and when you eventually find someone else when I go-"

"Raoul!" She chastised him, attempting to move away, but their close quarters did not allow it.

"I want you to. I can't let you be alone when I die."

"You act as if it will be so soon! Your brother is sixty and plenty alive, I think you can relax a little bit. We will have so many wonderful years together if you would just stop and think about it. You have me, is that not enough?"

"It is," he pleaded, seeing the doubt in her his wariness had sowed. Raoul put his lips to her neck and trailed them down towards her chest in soft, light kisses. "I promise I love you and you are enough. You should want for nothing, Claire."

"I want for nothing already," she told him truthfully, her hand holding the back of his neck lightly as her voice escaped her. She felt the twist in her belly and decided it was time they head towards their much softer bed.

"I'm sorry it still gets to me. Our ages. But I have you, and I shall do well to appreciate that." His hands were warm as they slipped under her coat and squeezed her waist, attempting to pull her closer to him. His breath on her neck was tantalizing, especially as the cold numbed her toes.

"As will I. And as much as I enjoy you taking me against surfaces that are not our bed, I also prefer not to have an audience when we make love. Especially when the audience would be my family and our son."

Raoul looked at her clearly now, nodding.

"Sit with me outside while I take us home?"

"As if you need ask," she replied positively.

They traveled home, rushing the horses as though their lives depended on it, and found themselves warm in bed an hour later.

Claire had a daughter in the heat of early September, and she thanked Raoul for her present on that day, his nervousness from the birth showing in his laugh as he caressed their little girl on the head.

"That's my sister?" William asked, his grandparents having gone now that everything was settled.

"Yes," Raoul said. "A beautiful little girl, just as beautiful as your mother."

"Mhm," their boy hummed, obviously disinterested now that he confirmed she was indeed his sibling.

"It'll get better," Raoul said, a charming smile on his face. He brought over their daughter and sat on their bed with her, gentle as lamb with every movement. "Philippe hated me, with good reason. He was basically an adult already when mother had me. Then she passed a few months after I was born, and he couldn't have hated me more. Obviously we love one-another now, but it took a long time. Luckily these two are much closer. Not that you'd understand any of this as an only child."

Claire laughed, tired and feeling more than spent. The midwife had cleaned her up and the doctor had also done his share, but she still felt revolting. She'd just pushed that little girl through her body and now she was there in Raoul's arms. Sleep, she deserved to sleep.

"Tell me more about how Philippe hated you," Claire said tactlessly, leaning against him and ignoring the aches in favor of shutting her eyes.

She didn't hear a thing until their little girl woke her up later.

Her eyes fluttered, pain was evident but she was still leaning against her ever-there husband.

"William went to bed and told me she was boring him."

Claire laughed over the cries and reveled in the sound as Raoul handed her over.

"She needs a name," she whispered, watching as her cries quieted and she contented herself to eat.

Absently rubbing her neck as he watched, Raoul sighed.

"After your mother?" He suggested.

"No."

He laughed at her. It had obviously been a jest.

"Gisele," was whispered after a long few moments, "After my mother."

Claire smiled.

"Gisele de Chagny. Our little Christmas present."

"She did not come on Christmas, that's hardly fitting."

"The timing is right, you remember the night. Stop arguing with me over it and just accept that she's our very late Christmas present."

"How could I deny my wife anything? Even before you were my wife, before your father practically forced me to court you… I was yours when your mouth opened at the bar when I arrived."

Claire looked up at him oddly, craning her neck to do so.

"You didn't see me. I remember that clear as day. It was only four years ago," she attempted to argue.

"I saw you, Claire. If not for the fact you looked like your mother, then for the soft way your lips parted in shock that a stranger dare enter your domain. I should have known then who your father was. When you came to me, my heart jumped. I've loved you since the beginning."

Unable to muster any other reaction than pure love for him was useless. This man was something else for all the strife he'd given her over the past few years.

"Kiss me."

He scoffed, kissing her temple and then looking down to their daughter directly in his way.

"Thank you Claire, for loving this old man."

"You're not old, and you are very welcome."

William came around eventually to Gisele, but not until she could walk and run with him in the gardens, or on the paths behind their grandparents house.

Raoul lived a long life next to Claire, much to her amusement. She was only sixty when he passed, long after her father had gone from them, though he lived to be ninety. He was still relatively able, hobbling along with a cane. It might have just been her husband's will that gave, Claire thought. Raoul had seen his children grow and give him grandchildren after forty years, and it had been enough for him one night.

Claire was lucky to have her mother who was just a little younger than Raoul by a year. She lived for a year or two after, but could not last through the hardships of old-age without Claire's father.

She understood it very well.

Her children were wonderful to her. Her son a Comte, their titles no more than simple names as times had changed. He was wealthy and took care of her like there still were such things however.

Then, it was her time to go, times having changed far too much for even her liking. Wars and revolutions far beyond her scope of capacity. Besides, the warm arms of her late husband were long-awaited, her children well taken care of on the plane below. Claire only laughed at Raoul now about their age difference, such a thing petty to have even discussed. There had been no better coincidence than their own, and then no better thing than getting to spend the rest of eternity together.