A/N: Thank you both beta Fantomphan33 & Erik'sTrueAngel for reviewing and editing.
Thunder crashed overhead and the ocean roared with fury. Livid black clouds reared up like a cobra readying itself to strike. They spat lightning mercilessly onto the pitiful scene below, which cut through the sky like burning shots of venom. The torrential rain hammered at the Commodore's flag ship, The Ravisseur, while the others under his command fared no better. The fleet, commanded by Commodore Erik de Chagny, were tossed violently in the middle of the vast ocean, desperately withstanding the ferocious storm. "Damn it, damn it all!" Erik casted his eyes towards the graphite sky and cursed a second time under his breath. The shrieking whirlwind shrouded the ship in an eerie darkness that only added to the terror of those unfortunate enough to be caught in it.
Enraged by the storm, Erik, the cast-out heir to Rocamadour, his family estate in France, shouted at the elements. His tormented soul matched the anger of the storm, and he stood at the helm like the devil at the gates of hell.
"Hold her, you fools! If you let her flounder then all the gold will be lost and you will die poor men!"
When one sailor failed to respond, cowering against the railing, Erik strode over to him with a curse and lifted him by his soaked shirt.
"Do you understand? If you don't hold her, you will die! Now get your ass moving and lash that sail."
The ship listed just then, plunging into a trough, and the pair were flung against the railing, splintering it. Erik grabbed the broken edge, forcibly pulling himself back aboard, and then swung around to help the sailor - but the lad was gone, swallowed up by the ravenous waves.
Cursing, Erik staggered back to the helm and continued to shout orders. The men crawled over the ship like soaked rats, struggling to stay aboard. A short scream from starboard was cut short as another sailor lost his life.
The commodore squinted through the sheeting rain, watching his flagship being forced farther and farther from the rest of his fleet, the three other ships also being battered and tossed by the will of the storm. He had taken command of this particular ship because it was new, recently captured during a sea fight only a couple months ago. Yet Erik could now see his mistake, for though his men were well trained, the vessel had not been tested, failed to live up to its promising expectations.
"God's wrath! It should not be storming yet! Not for another month at least!" he shouted, having sailed these waters for year and never encountered weather this bad so early in the year. The vicious storm pummeled the ship with a freezing blast of air, and the thunder that followed another flash of lightning shook the ship, vibrating it from stem to stern. Lightning continued to snake across the sky, illuminating the rabid sea for one terrifying moment, then blinked out, casting the ship back into darkness.
"Stay to your stations! Shorten the sail! Tack right! Reef ahead!"
Erik grasped the ship's railing and ducked, letting the wild sea wave crash over him and across the deck. His muscle strained with the effort to keep himself upright and on board. A shout to his left drew his gaze and he turned just in time to see the first mate washed over the side and into the raging water below.
Erik braced himself as the ship sank into a furrow. He gripped the mainsail rope for security and quickly gauged the pattern of the ocean waves, waiting for the right moment when the ship paused at the top of a swell and he could quickly tie himself to the mast. Another sailor skidded across the deck as the ship tilted, his head crashing against a barrel that was lashed to the planks. Erik watched helplessly as the man's limp body tumbled off the ship.
Erik's gray eyes remained stoic as he witnessed the entire tragedy unfolding in front of him. He had no true attachment to the men on the ship. Why should he? Humans were vile creatures and betrayers. He should know.
Erik was one of the two sons of Lord Isaac de Chagny, raised on the family estate in the South of France. Raoul was not only his younger brother, by only a few minutes, but his fraternal twin as well. Still, the two brothers looked nothing alike. Though Raoul was of lighter coloring, and Erik's features dark, it was the facial deformity that covered the right side of the older brother's face that set them apart. The Devil's child was the first name that they called him. His parents, being highly superstitious, believed that their son was cursed, the scars on his face a form of punishment for unknown sins. And from the day he came into this world until now, a mask had been placed over his face to cover the shame he was destined to carry his entire life.
Even though living under the same roof, Raoul was nurtured with immense affection and pride, while Erik was raised knowing only hardship, reprimands, and isolation. His facial disfigurement seemed to be the only reason for his parents' fear and loathing, something that condemned him to wallow in a life of loneliness, misery and revulsion. Everywhere he went, Erik always wore a black leather mask that concealed the deformed side of his face, exposing only his eyes, mouth, chin, and his unaffected left cheek.
And while he had grown to hate being forced to wear such a thing, as Erik grew into adulthood, the mask had afforded him an almost alluring and mysterious quality about him, a startling contrast to Raoul's innocent, yet noble appearance. Thus, the two brothers found it odd that many of the ladies were strangely attracted to Erik first… that is until the rumors of what horrors he concealed behind his mask reached their ears.
Erik and Raoul's mother died when the boys were still rather young, leaving their rearing and education in the hands of their demanding father. Thus, when their sire's health began to wane, the Lord of Rocamadour was left in a quandary. While Erik was technically the elder of his two sons, it was Raoul, with his perfect face and easygoing manner, their father desired to inherit the family fortune. Thus, on his deathbed, Lord de Chagny chose to leave it in the hands of fate, stating that whichever son married and produced a male heir first would inherit the family title and estate.
This stipulation was not a concern for Raoul, who was already courting the daughter of a Baron, a lovely girl by the name of Meg Giry. The two were madly in love and were expected to wed that very spring. This left Erik already far behind in the race for the inheritance, further cementing his envy and anger against his apparently perfect brother. Yet, he had thought fortune had smiled on him at last, when out of the blue, the sultry Gabrielle de Rossie began to show interest in entering into a courtship with him. He was shocked to say the least, for Gabrielle came from a fine family, had beauty to spare and was sought after by half the county.
At first Erik was unsure about her attentions, her words of flattery and syrupy endearments being alien to his ears. Still, it was nice to be showered with praise for once, and it wasn't like being alone had made Erik happy in the past. Besides, with his birthright on the line, a wife of his own would afford him the opportunity to remain in the running. Perhaps in time he could grow to love Gabrielle, and if she did indeed have as much affection for him as she claimed, where was the harm? Oh, if only Erik had known the truth.
Having done all he could to put his best foot forward, Erik had bowed to every demand Gabrielle had made for the wedding, right down to the imported satin dress from Italy she wore that day. Their wedding night, however, left much to be desired, and though Erik attempted to make the deed pleasurable, his wife had demanded it be done quickly and in the most perfunctory manner possible. Erik had fallen asleep that night, on his own side of the bed, while his bride curled up as far away from him as possible, leaving him wondering if this was how his life was now to be.
The next morning, after waking up Gabrielle was consumed by an insatiable curiosity about what lay beneath her husband's mask, thus she removed it on her own accord. Erik had been awoken by her screams as she ran from the room, leaving his mask on the floor as she went. Not only was Erik's trust, and hopes for a good marriage shattered that morning, but what she had seen was the ultimate reason for the couple's estrangement after that. Even though they continued living in the same house, Gabrielle never spoke to him again, unless absolutely necessary. His wife apparently could no longer tolerate Erik's presence, filled with such loathing and disgust for his face that she couldn't stand to even be in the same room with him. Yet, Erik was still given a glimmer of hope, when from that one act, Gabrielle fell pregnant, ultimately putting Erik back in the running for his inheritance. He even felt he might be ahead of the game, since Raoul and Meg had only just wed and had yet to conceive a child.
As the months crawled by, Erik found himself unexpectedly anxious to be a father, imagining all the things he could do for and teach his offspring. However, when Gabrielle at last gave birth, it was not to the son he had hoped for, but to a tiny little daughter, whom they named Nicolette. And though his expectations were temporarily dashed by this turn of events, Erik found he couldn't help but be besotted by his adorable little angel. He tried to spend as much time with the infant as Gabrielle would allow, but his vindictive wife seemed determined to limit any and all interaction between the two of them out of pure spite.
Yet, it all came to a head the day that Meg did indeed give birth to a child as well… Raoul's perfect little son, Adrian. Once more, it was cemented in Erik's mind forever the fact that his brother was the golden one. Now, robbed of his inheritance and family's fortune, Erik's life took a turn for the worst. Because all her hopes of a pampered life were gone, Gabrielle chose to commit suicide by jumping off the highest tower of the mansion they once shared. Apparently, in her mind, death was preferable in her eyes than remaining the wife of a penniless disfigured monster. Yet, what had struck Erik to the bone was the fact that she chose to do so with his baby daughter Nicolette in her arms! Fortunately Erik arrived at the tower in the nick of time, miraculously able to rescue his daughter from her despicable mother's vice grip before she flung herself to her death.
Gabrielle's death pained him like a dagger through his chest. Though they had never loved each other, he had strove to make her happy, and they still had a daughter to raise. How could Gabrielle be so cruel as to think of killing such an innocent being? Her decision to take her own life only after he lost his inheritance, only confirmed in Erik's mind that he was no better than a monster, a hideous beast who was cursed for eternity to be alone and unloved.
Left with nothing, Erik swallowed his pride and begged Raoul and Meg to look after his daughter Nicolette while he left to seek his fortune, promising to come back for the child when he had something to offer her. To his ultimate joy, and surprise, they agreed. He then left for the sea to look for a new horizon, choosing the life of a sailor. As the years passed, he made a name for himself, so much so that his talents came to the attention of the king. Thus, King Louis of France presented Erik with a commission, giving him the rank of commodore in his royal fleet. Erik's new job was to sail the sea, attacking and plundering goods from enemy vessels.
From that day on, Erik had become the most brutal, yet successful privateer under the king's command. Liked by none, yet feared by all.
The sounds of thunders suddenly boomed once more, drawing Erik back to the present. His ship cracked, the force of the seething ocean far stronger than her hull. The Ravisseur was going to sink! Erik saw the realization strike the hearts of the remaining sailors, and they appeared to him like children looking to him as if he could possibly save them. He stared back, with no such assurance to offer.
"She is going down!" he shouted. "Lower a lifeboat if you dare, or swim for the isles!"
Three men dropped one of the wooden boats, but a blast of wind crashed it against the side of the ship. "Commodore!" cried a sailor. "I don't want to die! Help us!"
Erik snarled in fury, disgusted with the whimpering men. "Cowards," he muttered to himself under his breath. Just then, a bolt of lightning streaked across the sky and struck an island nearby, a loud crack reverberating through the air. Erik looked up, narrowing his gaze as he tried to see through the driving rain. In the far distance he saw the black outline of a coast, and made a rapid calculation. This was his only chance… and he had no intention of dying this day.
Wiping his wet, brown hair off his face, as he focused on how to get to shore. There was too much unfinished business back home for him to die now. He had property to buy, power to gain and success to prove. Not to mention an eight-year-old daughter who hardly knew him.
A wave crashed overhead, pushing Erik to his knees and drenching him in cold froth. He shook his head, ignoring the sting of the salt water, and peered at the land. On the coast, a fire flickered, presumably caused by the lightning strike, and he smiled coolly. It would act as a beacon.
Holding the rope, he untied one end and inched over to the barrels, whereupon he lashed the rope to the cask. When the ship dropped suddenly, Erik was flung backwards and he groaned in pain as his back crashed against the hatch door. He lost his breath for a moment, and struggled to draw in air before the ship listed again. Thunder crashed and Erik looked up, realizing that his chances of survival were slim. Anger consumed him.
"No!" he shouted into the gale. "No! I will survive! I am not done yet!"
Another flash of lightning answered him, illuminating the broken deck. All the sailors had been swept overboard… only he remained. A great creaking signaled the ship's final resistance; then it abruptly rolled to its side.
Erik was flung aft, his powerful muscles useless, as the rope that held pulled tight, stringing him between the mast and the barrel. The mast swayed, and the barrel shook, telling him that if he didn't act quickly, he would follow the same fate as the rest of his crew. Dragging his knife from his boot, Erik sliced through the rope, choosing to stay with the buoyant barrel rather than the massive mast. He gripped the barrel's side and hacked at the rope that held it to the floor boards.
Suddenly water flood the deck and the ship groaned once again, this time accepting defeat. The top of the mast abruptly snapped, sending splinters of wood raining down, pelting him with thousands of sharp pieces. Erik ducked, his hands covering his face and eyes in a protective manner. He stumbled, blood dripping from his arms and body, and snarled at the elements.
"I will never give up!" he shouted. "Gabrielle didn't break me… nor could my father. You cannot stop me. I dare you to try!"
As if in answer, a final flash of lightning snaked down from the heaven and struck the remaining mast. Instantly exploding, the huge timber was turned into a tower of fire that scorched Erik, an immense heat erupted in front of him, searing the front of his body.
He howled in rage and pain, his body now severely injured. The wound was excruciating and for a moment Erik wondered if he was in hell. Had the evils of his past found him and encased him in the devil's fire. Then the ship tossed a final time and rolled, her heavy belly turning upwards like a great, dying whale.
Erik and the barrel were thrown from the deck into the ocean. He plunged down, deep into the freezing depths, until the rope that bound him to the barrel halted his downward momentum and forced him to come back to the surface. Breaking the surface, he gasped for air and looked around, seeing that the sinking ship was already many lengths away.
Erik tried to swim, but the currents pulled him in every direction, with only the barrel keeping him afloat. With a groan, he watched as the ship twisted on its stern, then plunged down and sank into the wind-tossed ocean.
Erik looked for the beacon of light on land and found it. Ignoring the sting of salts in his wound, he glared at the surging storm and the pounding waves with defiance. He felt painful as if millions of arrows had just pierced through him, but he would not be defeated!
Then, with supreme effort and indomitable will, he clung to the barrel and kicked, heading for salvation.
A/N: Hi readers, how do you like the story so far? Please kindly give me a feedback.
Next chapter, Erik and Christine will meet. I can't wait to see how their meeting is going to turn out to be.