Nb: Hello everyone! Happy Valentine's day! I am sorry for the long silence and for forgetting to open that poll I said about, I am scatter brained! Anyway, here is my phantom of the opera fanfic for Valentine's day and I hope you all enjoy it! All credit goes to the Phantom of the opera and Edgar Allen Poe for a particular quote =)
He dressed in red, the colour of blood and roses. His mask was far more ornate then his normal one, and his long black hair was tied back. He looked at his pocket watch in contemplation, a cruel smile upon his lips. He shut his pocket watch with a snap and placed a ring upon his finger, he had it made with this day in mind. The day he would bind Christine's soul to his own.
Forever.
He walked towards the exit of his home, laughter danced with venomous mirth in his heart. Christine had played into his hands, she had walked unknowingly into his grasp and after today.. He would never release her. Not in life or in death.
'Ah, Christine.' He mused with a savage grin under his mask. 'You really should know better. You will never escape this poor Erik!'
...
The valentine's day masquerade ball was one of the most popular events of the opera house, lovers would flock to the event in droves and eclipse the grand hall in white. As was the custom, all those who wished to enter the ball donned white clothes and white half masks.
Already they fluttered around like doves, they glided like falling snow as they danced. He watched them intently with eyes that blazed and instantly found Christine in the crowd, she looked angelic in her flowing white dress.
'A suitable gown for a wedding.' He thought to himself before he noticed the hated Viscount in the crowd. He watched the faux Don Juan make his way towards Christine. Watched as Christine smiled warmly and spoke to the other man, the hated other man in his immaculate white suit and perfect face.
Garbed in crimson, he watched them from his vantage point and smiled darkly.
"Let the show begin." He murmured to himself.
...
He watched the revelers with an feeling of detachment. He stood in the shadows and watched them dance within the light of the grand hall, they flickered like candle light. He was still, statuesque and corpse like in stance. The only thing that moved were his eyes that followed two particular dancers with a predatory fire.
Christine and the Viscount were oblivious to him, they were so absorbed in their dance. In each other. He hoped they were enjoying themselves, he would be the one who would enjoy the last dance.
While he waited he cast his gaze around one final time and noted that everything was as it should be, everything was in place and ready. He decided to get himself some wine.
'After all, such a day deserves merriment and celebration! And wine..' He placed his hand upon his masked face. '...Has various uses.'
...
He was just in time to the last dance, as he returned to the grand hall he threw the empty wine bottle to the side. The sound of the musicians silenced the sound of shattered glass. He glanced briefly over his shoulder and marveled at how much wine had being in that bottle, it had fulfilled its purpose as he made his way around the Opera house and made sure that the main entrance was locked securely.
He glanced at his pocket watch one last time with satisfaction, once the clock hand struck twelve, his master piece would be born. There was only one thing that remained, one last thing to put into place.
The final dance for the night was about to start, and he could see Christine and the Viscount standing close together as they prepared for the dance to start. He noticed that Christine had obeyed him and worn his Mother's ring upon her hand, and he was pleased. Christine herself had a part to unknowingly play in his master piece, and by wearing his ring, had already fulfilled part of it.
He put away his pocket watch and strode into the room. His voice boomed with authority as he called out. "I would like to request a dance with my beloved wife, Christine!"
The revellers turned to look at him in unison and gasped. The Viscount spun around in shock to regard him.
Christine was silent and looked deathly white.
...
"I apologise for the dreadful interruption," he spoke in a confident tone as he made his way to Christine and the Viscount. "But I thought that it was only fitting that I should have the last dance with my wife."
He stopped once he was in front of them and bowed as he took Christine's hand in his, he noticed in silentoy that the Viscount was shocked into silence. He was little more then a broken marionette who could only gaze on.
Christine trembled violently and under his mask he smiled to himself, when he spoke his voice was calm and gentle.
"My dear wife, may I have this dance?"
The whole room was silent, there were no murmurs of disapproval about his attire nor were there any whispers jests and jibs. There were no questions or accusations. The whole room was frozen as though time itself had stopped, they all waited for one thing. They waited to see what Christine's response would be.
She knew that he had trapped her, he could see that in her ocean kissed eyes, but she did not seem to understand why.
She hesitated and forced a smile. "I would be delighted, Erik."
The Viscount gasped as though he was a drowning man. "Erik?!"
He ignored the Viscount and kept his eyes focused on Christine, he called out to the musicians. "You may begin the song now."
...
As they danced, Christine was not smiling as he admonished her softly. "Do try, Christine. It does not reflect well upon a man when his wife will not even smile at him."
"Why are you here, Erik? What are you planning?" She whispered nervously as he spun her gracefully.
"A wedding." He said simply.
"B-But you told me that I'd have a month before..."
"Yes, but that was before I realised what day was coming up." He interrupted her with a cheerful laugh. "You know, Christine. Once upon a time, this poor Erik dreamed of having his wedding on Valentine's day." His voice became soft as he murmured to himself in an almost inaudible tone. "I had dreams once."
"Erik.." She whispered as she tried to tug herself away from him, but he would not let her get away from this dance. He pulled her even closer to him and whispered in her ear.
"After midnight, I will play the march. But Christine? The choice in which march I play lies in your hands. I would love to play the wedding march, but I must confess that I am quite content to play the funeral march instead.. I am just concerned." His voice became a hiss. "My hands may fall off my wrists with the amount of funeral Marches I would need to play!"
"Y-You're a monster, Erik.." Christine whispered in horror.
"A monster? Not I, Christine!" He chuckled darkly. "The Ruin made everyone loathe me."
To his surprise, Christine responded in a steely tone. It was unaffected by fear and never trembled once. "Even if your face wasn't like that, I think you still would have being a monster. The only difference is, you'd have no one to blame for ending up alone."
He never broke step in the dance or showed any indication that he had heard her words. She would have being frightened, he knew, if she could see his expression.
Under his mask, he was smiling.
...
When the dance ended, he led her up the stair case. As he expected, the Viscount began to follow them. He was, however, to late. The clock had struck midnight and the trap was sprung.
The Opera house began to fill with fire. Fire that licked and chased the trails of fine wine left upon the floor, fire that embraced the grand hall and waited at the bottom of the stairs were he and Christine were stood. He sung out as people ran towards the exit and tried in vain to unlock them.
"' And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable domination over all!'"
He could hear the sound of screams and noticed that Christine stood frozen in place, dazed and statue like by his side. Dazed and mute.
"This will hurt, Christine!" He called over the agonized screams as he found the gift he had hidden. "But you need not fear, my love. I am here, and I will look after you!"
He placed the gift into her hands, it was a full face mask that was sculpted in the likeness of her own face.
"Happy Valentine's day, my love." He whispered as he pushed her into the fire.
It would not be fatal for her, he would make certain of that. She would forgive him eventually. She would have no choice, no one would ever look at her again. Only him. She would be reborn, she would be his and only his.
After all, who knew better then him...That rebirth was only attained through fire.
(The End)