A/N: So... wow. This is it! The last chapter! I can hardly believe it, to be honest. I started this story after I first watched Poto when it came to Singapore, and I was totally crazy over it. I read a ton of fanfics and one day I decided I would like to try writing my own. It wasn't easy at the start, but... 65 chapters. That's a lot. I never thought the story would be so long when I first started it; I certainly didn't intend for it to go on for 65 chapters! But... here we are. 65 chapters, 172044 words, 15 months. 85 favourites and 112 followers. I just want to thank each and every one of you readers for always supporting this story, and making me feel happy to continue writing. Reading your reviews every week and knowing that people are reading this story and feel happy after they read it... that they look forward to each new chapter... it was a very nice feeling for me, and I am so thankful to all of you (: I'm very happy that my story has made you guys feel happy reading it!
And I know this is the last chapter, which makes me really sad to be typing all this. I can't believe it's the last time I'm going to be posting here! (I'm almost tempted to extend this story to many many more chapters, but that would just be dragging it out, with no plot.) I'm really going to miss posting here, it's become a little of a ritual for me to post here every Monday. But for all those who have asked/are hoping for more, I'm sorry to say that this will most likely be my one and only foray into writing fanfiction ): I do write works of complete fiction (my own writings) but I have never put any of those up online. I doubt that I will have the energy or time to write another full-length Poto fanfic, and goodness knows I'll never be able to come up with another OC like Amelie again. I think I would feel weird, writing another story with the same Erik, and yet... a different woman. Hahaha. If I ever write another story it might be an Erik-Christine story, but I wouldn't get your hopes up, because I just don't have the time or inspiration anymore. ): University takes up my whole life. (I can still be found on my blog! Though that one is completely un-poto related.)
Ok... wow I've written a mini essay just like that. Thank you to all my faithful reviewers (you know who you are), I cannot say how thankful I am that you guys take time each week to write reviews for me, especially the lengthy ones. They're a complete joy to read. Please bear with me while I now reply to all your reviews for the last time ever.
PumpkinKitten: I'm glad (: It warmed my heart too.
MarieCP: Thank you! (: I do think so too!
Masked Man 2: Believe me, I'm equally as sad! I can't believe it has been 65 chapters. Thank you very much for reviewing almost every chapter I've posted up here, your reviews have been amazing (: Just one last chapter for you to enjoy this story, and I hope this chapter ends it with a bang!
Aria of Life: Then my job is complete! Thank you for saying that, the fact that you feel like it's part of the original story makes me really happy, and I'm so glad you liked how I wrote Erik and Amelie.
E-man-dy-S: I can just picture Constantin in my head! Hehe. You're welcome, I hope you enjoy the last chapter.
Guest: Well, seeing as this is the last chapter... she won't be making any more appearances, haha! Not big appearances where she will have dialogue and all, at least. She will be mentioned a couple of times, but the chapter where she was finally prima donna was the end of her story (: Thank you for reading my story (:
Dani: Nooo, because I'm so depressed as well! And thank you for your support, I hope your friends didn't feel too horrible at having been forced to read this! XD Hopefully they liked it as well!
Lydia the tygeropean: that they do! (:
TierneyMacDonald: I know, I do love writing cute scenes!
michellecarriveau: Thank you very, very much! I have always loved to write, but never posted any of my writings online before, so it means a lot to me that you think I'm a good writer (: I'm so happy you've enjoyed my story, and I hope this last chapter wraps it up nicely for you.
AliceMusic: Thank you for leaving a review even though you're shy! It means a ton to me. And I'm so happy that my story showed you what a good fanfiction is! Honestly, the fact that people feel happy when reading this makes me so happy to write. Please enjoy the last chapter (:
Writer For Christ: Thank you!
Guest: I love a sweet ending, hehe!
marial0789: -sniff as well- I can't believe the last chapter is here! I hope you like it as much as the rest of the story.
Skyila: I think most people who have not watched Poto/do not like musicals will not get this obsession... most of my friends don't get it, that's for sure! Do PM me, we could be FB friends or something! Or I'm sure I'll see you around here sometime, I might be skulking around for a while after I finish this story (; And really, I'm honoured that you would be saving this story into your computer! -hugs- And yes, Constantin will have a little sister, because I am a sucker for cliches like that!
Ok... enough of my teary replies now... on with the last chapter!
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Chapter 65: Epilogue II
Paris, 1905
It was a nice spring day, and Erik Chevalier stood outside a church once again, dressed in his best suit, his cravat tied perfectly, and his gloves snugly on his hands.
"Thank you for agreeing to do this for me, Erik," said the woman next to him, and Erik turned to look at her.
Marguerite Lianne Giry stood beside him, dressed in an ivory lace gown dotted with little seed pearls, the tight-fitting sheath clinging to her slim frame, before branching out into a mermaid-tail styled skirt at her knees. She clutched a bouquet of periwinkles in her gloved hands.
"Anything for you, cousin Meg," Erik said, parroting how Meg had first called him when he had arrived in the Palais Garnier on his first day of employment. Meg laughed.
"I am glad that you agreed to walk me down the aisle. After all, you're the closest thing I have ever had to a brother."
Erik smiled slightly. "Thank you, Meg."
The church doors swung open, and the bridal march began to play. Erik held out his arm gallantly to Meg, who took it with a mischievous wink. They entered the church together, stepping in beat to the beat of the march.
When they reached the front of the church, Erik gently handed Meg's hand over to her waiting groom.
"Take good care of her," he warned.
Audric nodded at him, a bright smile framing his face. "I will, monsieur. I will."
Erik patted him on the back, before moving off to sit between Antoinette and Amélie. Antoinette, he noticed, had tears in her eyes, and was dabbing at them with a lacy handkerchief. As he sat down, Amélie smiled at him, and he smiled back, reaching for her hand and holding it.
Clutched tightly with her other arm was a bundle of lacy blankets that swaddled his daughter, Aria. Her birth had come as a little of a surprise to Erik, as he had thought there would be no more children after Constantin, given that there had been four childless years after his birth. It mattered naught to Erik, though, for he loved Aria with all his heart, from the moment she had opened her eyes to blink sleepily at him as a new-born, with a face that so resembled Amélie's as a child, it made his heart hurt. Constantin, now almost five years old, sat beside Amélie obediently, his black hair combed neatly, and looking perfectly angelic in his little suit. Amélie handed Aria over to Erik, whispering that her arms were aching, and Erik took the small bundle obligingly. He looked down at the small face that peeked out from the blankets, eyes closed peacefully in sleep. Gently, he tucked the baby closer to him, raising a gloved hand to caress the baby's smooth cheek almost reverently, before sitting back to enjoy the wedding service.
Across the pew, Erik caught the eye of Christine, who was sitting in the front row on the other side of the church, and she beamed at him cheerfully, a smile that he returned. He nodded at Raoul, who sat beside Christine, and the man raised his hand in acknowledgement. The last Erik had heard from Christine, Raoul had proposed again, and this time, she had accepted, without any regrets or inhibitions, unlike the last time. It would take Raoul's parents and family quite some time to accept Christine, for she was a lowly opera-singer, and he was part of the nobility, but Raoul had assured Christine that his family would come around sooner or later. It would be a hard task for Raoul. Erik knew that families in the nobility were hard-pressed to accept commoners into their families, no matter how famous Christine might be as a prima donna. Still, he was glad that things had worked out between his former student and the vicomte.
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On the ride home from the church, Erik thought about a lot of things.
He thought back to the winter of 1880, when he had first met Amélie, a baby swaddled in a pile of blankets. It was now 1905, and it had been a good 25 years since then.
Twenty-five long years, in which he had left Paris, travelled the world, met the daroga in Persia, and then returned again to Paris, and to Amélie.
In 1880, if someone had told him that 25 years down the road, he would be happily married, with two children he loved dearly, have a successful composing career with a job at the opera house he loved so much, he would have laughed in the person's face. It would have been a cruel sort of remark to make to him back then, a 12 year old boy who felt nothing but bleakness in his future. In Persia, as he had sat with the daroga on the veranda, looking at the twinkling stars in the night, the two had often talked of the future. He had waxed lyrical with the daroga, of dreams he had always dreamed of, of ambitions he had longed to achieve, of things he wished to do, all while never really believing the words he said would ever come true.
But they had, and Erik thanked the heavens every single day for what he had now. His beautiful Amélie, who he had not once forgotten for a single moment ever since he had left the opera house. His two beautiful children, Constantin and Aria. His bond with Antoinette, which had never broken no matter how many times he had needed her help, let her down, or made her worry. The grudging friendship with the daroga, who had always believed that there was no monster in Erik, despite the grouchy front Erik put up when talking to him, the number of times he had lost his temper at the older man, or the sarcastic remarks that Erik often said to him. There were the friendships he had built up with members of the opera house, Georges, Louis, Audric, and many others. The stalemate and acceptance he had arrived at with Raoul, and having Christine as his student. There were the Reyer brothers, to whom he owed his success, Alphonse Belcourt, Meg, and so many others.
There had been a point in Erik's life when he had been all alone. From the moment he had escaped from his mother's house, only to find himself in the clutches of the gypsies, he had been alone. As a young boy, he had retreated into the shadows of the night, locking himself up into a cage of his own making.
And then he had met Antoinette, who had stretched out a hand to him when nobody else had. One day she had brought back Amélie, who had melted his cold heart with her childish acceptance of him. And from then on, Erik was no longer alone.
Erik would never forget his stint as the Opera Ghost, nor the harsh years of living in secret, closeted in the underground labyrinths of the Palais Garnier, unable to step out of the shadows, and unable to live the dream he had always wanted to.
Erik had not forgotten Giovanni and Luciana, nor had he forgotten the Rosy Hours of Mazenderan. They were memories that he had lived through, experiences that he wished he had never had to live, and yet, they remained quite clearly in his mind, as though they had only happened the day before. He doubted that he would ever forget the horrors of the torture chambers in Persia, and he knew that the cruelties of the gypsies would forever remain with him. They had left a physical mark on him, after all—the scars of the whips upon his back. Even the memories of his mother, the beautiful Madeleine, had left their mark in the scars circling his wrists. He would never forget.
But Erik was glad that they had happened. Naturally, no sane person would have wished to live through these experiences, and if given a choice, Erik would never have gone through them, but having done so, Erik did not regret. Those experiences had shaped him into the person he was today. It had taken him a long time to break the bars of the cage, and it had been a long, torturous time, but Erik had done it.
I did it, he wanted to shout at Fate. I lived with this face you gave me, but I did it in the end. I succeeded.
It felt pretty darned good. Erik looked at Amélie, who sat beside him in the carriage, cooing softly at Aria. He knew he would always love Amélie.
At that moment, she looked up at him, and he smiled, leaning down to kiss her.
"What are you thinking of?" She asked, kissing him back.
"How much I love you," he told her truthfully, and she blushed bashfully, hitting his arm playfully.
"I love you, too," she said.
His family and his friends were the joy of his life. And Erik was not so sure now that if Fate had somehow whispered to him that she was able to turn back time, to give him a proper face, a face as handsome as his father's had been, and a normal life like that of a normal child, he would have accepted the offer.
He realized, startlingly, that he would have rejected the offer, turned it down flatly.
For Erik Chevalier was finally truly, contentedly, happy.
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Paris, 1910
"I want a story, papa!" The russet haired little girl sitting on his lap demanded imperiously, wiggling about. "Tell me a story!"
"How is it that you sound just like your maman?" Erik asked wondrously, catching Amélie's eye from across the nursery, where she was tidying up the toys scattered around. She grinned at him, remembering the time when she had demanded for stories from him, too.
"Story!" The little girl demanded again, waving her hands to get his attention.
Erik laughed. "Yes, my little Aria. Your wish is my command."
And he told her the story of the princess Rose and her ugly knight. It had been one of Constantin's favourite stories, and Aria had liked it well enough.
"Was the princess pretty?" Aria asked, tugging on one of her curls absentmindedly.
"Yes," Erik said solemnly. "She was."
"What did she look like?"
"Like that," Erik said, pointing to Amélie. Amélie gave him a fond but exasperated look, walking over to where the two sat.
"Do take off your mask in the house, Erik," she grumbled. "It is uncomfortable to wear it for long hours."
She reached over and pulled it off gently, placing it on a side table.
"The children," Erik protested weakly, though he had not been wearing the mask around the house more often recently.
"They do not care," Amélie said, ruffling Aria's hair. "Is that not right, mon cheri?"
Aria squirmed contentedly in Erik's lap, blinking up unconcernedly at his unmasked face. "More story!"
"Shall we play the piano, instead? Would you like to play the piano with papa, Aria?" Erik chucked her under the chin. Aria looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded her head, her bronze curls bobbing about and gleaming in the sunlight streaming through the windows of the nursery.
"You shall have to fight Constantin for the piano," Amélie remarked. "He has been at it for the whole morning already."
"Violin," Aria said, tugging on Erik's sleeve. Erik laughed and acquiesced, lifting the child in his arms and making his way to the music room. Amélie watched them go with a faint smile on her face. Erik looked so precious with the children, who obviously adored him and loved him as much as Amélie herself did.
They had been blessed with two beautiful children, and it was a small wonder to Amélie that both had inherited Erik's talent for music. Constantin was forever sitting on the piano bench, practising on his skills, and resembling his father more than ever. Occasionally, Amélie had to force him to stop playing the piano so that he could eat—she had a suspicion that if she did not bother to check on him, Constantin would skip meals just like his father did. Little Aria preferred the violin, which Erik was more than delighted to teach her, since Constantin had declared a lack of interest in the instrument. And yet both had inherited Erik's voice; sometimes in the evenings, Amélie was serenaded by all three of them, singing together perfectly harmoniously, and it made her heart sing along with them.
Truly, she was blessed.
That curious girl who had bought groceries for the Opera Ghost when she had been a mere ballet rat in the Palais Garnier had had no idea the outcome, when she had decided to give the Opera Ghost a gift of chocolate peppermints. It had been a gesture borne of curiosity and goodwill, and it had, in a certain way, started the relationship between the two of them.
The little girl had loved her masked friend back then, and that same girl still loved him with all her heart now.
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Paris, 1911
"And a final toast to La Marguerite, the finest prima ballerina the Palais Garnier has seen," Belcourt bellowed, lifting his champagne glass.
"Oh, goodness, monsieur," Meg said, blushing fiercely. "You exaggerate."
Everyone at the table laughed, but they raised their glasses to the toast.
It had been 11 years since Meg had taken to the stage as prima ballerina, and she was finally retiring and settling down to have children. In the past six years, much had happened. Audric was now principal violinist in the orchestra. Christine Daae had finally married her vicomte, in a grand wedding just last year, and was now on a long honeymoon, touring Europe with her new husband. The entire opera house had been sad to see their prima donna leave. There had been so many changes in the opera house over the years, and Erik had seen members come and go. He still remained in the employ of Alphonse Belcourt, while maintaining his composing duties. Erik had published a collection of lullabies and songs meant for children, to celebrate the birth of his own two children, and was currently working on a new opera, the likes of which rivalled that of Don Juan. At the cantankerous old age of 55, Eustache Reyer still staunchly refused to retire, claiming that they would have to drag his corpse away from the building before he left by himself.
The Reyer brothers sat at the table now, holding their glasses of champagne aloft as the group toasted Meg. Erik looked around the table. The same people who had been there for their housewarming party so many years ago were still present, except Christine and Raoul, who were abroad. Antoinette still looked the same, albeit with streaks of grey beginning to appear in her blond hair, which was scraped back in its usual tight bun. Alphonse Belcourt was still as rotund and cheery as always, dressed in his usual exuberant fashions, and drinking more champagne than he should. Georges and Louis were chatting animatedly to the daroga, and Meg and Audric sat beside each other, looking blissfully happy. There were a few additions to the table, such as little Aria, who sat next to Amélie, looking cherubic in a white dress, her russet hair in ringlets and tied back with a red ribbon. Erik frowned at the empty chair beside him.
"Where's Constantin?" He asked Amélie, who frowned.
"Oh, I did tell him that dinner was ready, and he should be down immediately. He must have been distracted by the piano again; I noticed him rifling through your bookcase of manuscripts just now."
Antoinette laughed. "He is just like his father, then."
Erik grinned proudly. "Not many parents can boast that their child can already play complicated sonatas at the age of ten. Just yesterday, I caught Constantin scribbling notes on some of my spare manuscript paper, and when I looked it over, his composition was not half bad, indeed. And little Aria plays with such skill on the violin that even I am impressed."
Aria beamed at him, and he winked back at her, eliciting happy giggles from her adorably round face.
"My, what a besotted fool you have become, Erik," the daroga commented. "Your children could write a page full of gibberish or play ridiculously and you would still praise it!"
Erik scowled at him as the rest laughed. "I will get you back during that chess game we will play later on," he warned, and the daroga laughed, raising his hands in surrender.
"Just so long as I have exclusive rights to publishing Constantin's first compositions," Eugene Reyer piped up, ladling some stew into his bowl, making them laugh again. "I have every hope that the boy will turn out to be as good a composer as his father is."
"He will be better," Amélie said, her eyes twinkling. "Though he will be scolded quite dreadfully by his mother if he does not turn up for his dinner soon enough. The food is getting cold as we wait for him."
"Oh dear," Erik laughed. "I'd better fetch him."
He stood and went into the house, heading straight for the music room. Strains of music were echoing from the room, and Erik shook his head affectionately at the sight of the boy sitting on the piano bench, his fingers flying quickly over the ivory keys. Erik recognized the song as one of his earlier compositions, yet the boy was playing them with new improvisations, and changing the melodies in ways that Erik had never thought of.
"It's time for dinner, Constantin," he said quietly.
Noticing his father in the room for the first time, the boy hastily stopped. "Oh, papa! I did not realize that time had flown."
Erik smiled and ruffled his black hair. "I know how that feels like, Constantin. I feel it too. The music refuses to let us go once we have started, doesn't it? Once I start, I often do not feel like stopping. That is the beauty of music. But don't let your maman know I told you this, or she will have my head."
Constantin giggled, and jumped down from the chair, all lanky limbs, a boy taller than most his age. In fact, Antoinette often commented that Constantin was looking more and more like his papa each day when Erik himself had been a young boy.
"I was just playing some old songs of yours, papa."
Erik raised his eyebrows. "I heard you. You have improved, indeed."
The little boy beamed, his whole face bright with happiness from having received a compliment from his father. "One day, I will be as good as you are, papa."
"That you'll be, Constantin. I have no doubt that you will be even better than I am." Erik told him, feeling his heart tighten with love for the little boy standing before him. "But before that, you need dinner. Come along now, before your maman comes up to fetch us both."
Constantin slipped his small hand into Erik's, and together, they walked out of the music room to join the others for dinner.
After they left, a breeze blew through the open windows, and the pages of the book Constantin had been referring to fluttered and flipped, finally settling on a page as the wind died down again.
It was the third book Erik had ever published, and the open page held the title of the book, as well as the dedication.
The title, Amélie-Rose, was printed in large font across the page in cursive black letters.
Below the title was a picture. Erik had illustrated a scene of a knight and a princess, which was printed in the middle of the page. And underneath the picture was the dedication, which Erik had written after he had completed the manuscript.
To Amélie-Rose,
For she turned night into day.
I love you.
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Finis
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A/N: How did you like the ending? (: Personally, I loved how it ended, with the dedication. I had already decided on this ending long before I wrote this last chapter, which says how much I looked forward to writing it this way!
For she turned night into day has many meanings for Erik- it means that she gave him a new outlook in life, or it could mean that she literally turned night into day for him, bringing him out of the darkness of the opera house. Amelie's something like the sun, then; Erik can't live without her in his life. So many meanings, so many implications! It could mean something different to all of you, but I liked this dedication a lot. (Gosh I sound so egoistical, seeing as I wrote it, but ah well.)
Last chapter, I asked for all you readers to leave me a review so that I could reply. Please do leave me a review for this final chapter as well! It would mean so much to me if you could let me know how you liked this last chapter/this story as a whole (: I would love to hear from old and new readers both, or those who haven't reviewed before! I hope you guys have enjoyed the last chapter, and that reading this has given you as much pleasure as I have had while writing it. I have loved every single moment of writing this story, and I don't begrudge myself any of the lengthy hours spent writing this!
Finally, a big thank you again to all readers. You have all been utterly precious, and I want to thank you for going through this story with me. It has been a very long but fulfilling journey (:
Signing off for the last time,
xx hazel