Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own POTO... All I own is an overactive imagination.

Summary: ErikRaoul slash (finally). Story continuation of A Mask for All Occasions. Inspiration has its price.

Warning(s): violence

Pairing(s): ErikRaoul

Story note: None that I can currently think of.

A/N: Thanks for all of the support. Special thanks to those really fast reviewers: whatevergirl, Sunde, luisadeza, PuppetofDreams, Mithril Maiden, xdark.flowerx. You guys made this chapter a little easier to write. Faster too apparently.

o.o.o.o

Unmasking the Chains

Chapter 11

o.o.o.o

By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

Raoul's POV

o.o.o

Last time:

"What," I began, but Philippe pulled back and I doubled over in pain. He had stabbed me where the first wound on my side had been.

"Remember what I've been telling you, what you learned here."

Throwing the keys at me, he turned and walked away from me again.

I struggled to free myself and as quickly as I could make it to my room. The house was empty again. Philippe had probably planned it again. He had known he was freeing me and did not want anyone to see it.

I entered my room and locked the door behind me. It was a futile gesture, but I felt a little safer with it locked.

I had to clean the wound to make sure I didn't get sick again. I knew I had to get up and do it.

Instead, I leaned against the door as my legs gave out under me. I closed my eyes and wished it had all been a bad dream.

o.o.o

I looked at myself in the mirror as I adjusted the costume that Philippe had left for me. I smiled grimly at the irony of being a prince when by all apparent means, I was the princess trapped in the castle.

The costume was not terribly uncomfortable, but I did not appreciate the open mocking Philippe was doing. Just as I remembered the fairy tales my mother once told, so too did he. He also knew how I never stopped believing in them. For a while, he would call me Prince Raoul mockingly whenever he beat me, but he had not done so in a long time, so I was confused as to what had triggered his renewed interest in it.

Philippe had not laid another finger on me since the day I was freed from the cellar. It was small consolation. He had left enough wounds for me to deal with that it did not matter if he ever touched me again. The scars would be enough to forever remind me of what cruelty he was capable.

When I had finally been able to stand up, I had taken a scalding hot bath to cleanse my body. It stung horribly so, but in a way, it was the best pain I had felt in a while. I wanted to get out of my skin. I felt dirty. I felt each wound all too well.

I managed to stop the bleeding from the last stab wound he gave me quite quickly. I was immensely grateful that Philippe had decided I would go to the masquerade because he intentionally did not stab me too deeply so I would be able to attend. I had not needed to do anything but clean and bandage it for it to begin to heal. Every time I moved my body though, I could feel it along with the other numerous wounds I had accrued in my time in the cellar. Scratches, bruises, and scars littered my body. Now, it was not only my back that I could not stand to put pressure on. I wanted no reminder of my time in the cellar, but I could not escape it.

A maid had left some food by the bed and I was left alone the whole day. Yesterday, I had only cleaned myself up and slept. The bed had been heaven sent. I had been stupid to ignore the small pleasures of life. I had missed my room. I had missed my clothes, water, food… I missed moments when Philippe was not on the forefront of my mind, when the cellar held no horrors for me. I missed feeling safe in my own home. I wanted to turn back time. Since I could not, I wanted to be anywhere but here, anyone but myself.

I was still here though. I was still trapped in my body.

I could not dwell on these thoughts too long though. I had to move on with my life. I had to work through the pain and act the part Philippe wanted of me tonight. I would live day to day while Philippe was at home. He was too unpredictable to make any plans for the future. They would only be destroyed.

My current goal was simply to survive the masquerade. I would make it through the night.

I smiled and was disappointed to see that I looked perfect. There was no conceit in that thought. My hair had gotten some of its luster back. It fell neatly to my shoulders. The bruises and wounds on my face had faded, so that my skin was once again smooth. The costume covered up every other part of my body so that none could tell what horrors actually lay beneath. The only thing I had to be cautious about was my hands. They were rough, calloused, and the scarring on them was obvious. It would be simple to hide them though. Everything would look as though I had simply left Paris for a vacation.

I was now physically clean, and with this smile firmly in place, all the mental scarring would be just as easily hidden. It would all fall into place so that I could act the perfect Vicomte and patron. It was all so wholly a lie that I did not know how two extremes of clean and dirty could coexist, as I was existing right now.

I feared what this night truly held for me. Philippe would be attending since in my absence, he had taken over my position as patron. If that were not enough to add stress, I knew that the phantom would also be watching me closely. Tonight was the last night to carry out my promise. I had not forgotten about our deal. I only realized that I should have been relieved that Philippe let me go when he did or else I might have had to face the wrath of another person. Philippe was already more than I could handle.

I felt embarrassed whenever I thought of the phantom actually. I had been foolish and weak wanting someone to save me. For some reason, my mind had latched onto him. It was probably because he was the last person to see me, and the only person who actually had a real conversation with me. Logically thinking about it, had I been strong enough before to admit to the phantom that I was not a rival for Christine's affection, we could have been friends of some sort. Surely then, it would not be foolishness to expect him to come. I highly doubted that Philippe would win in a fight against the phantom. I mentally cheered the phantom on. Then again, had I admitted my doubts earlier, I would never have been in this position in the first place.

I adjusted the jacket off my shoulder. I was nervous. I wondered how Christine would handle the news. Not well, probably. She had seemed excited to become a Vicomtess. I wished I could say that she had been excited to become my wife, but I could not, at least not meaningfully.

Love me. That's all I ask of you.

It was all I asked of her. I did not want her to turn her life upside down for me. I did not want her to stop singing. I did not want her to change anything about her. I just wanted her to love me. She could not. It was not her fault. I should have realized that we could not help with whom we fall in love. I did not love her either. It would have been unfair of me to ask her something I myself could not do.

I thought back to that morning in her room. It seemed so long ago. She had been talking to the mirror then. I placed my hand on the mirror I looked into. It was my own reflection, a reflection that I hated. I had become an entirely different person this past month, but there was no indication of it in my reflection. The person in the mirror was not me. It could not be. The person in the mirror seemed calm and collected. The person in the mirror looked confident and healthy. I was… I was none of those things.

I wondered if Christine thought of the phantom when she looked in a mirror or if she was truly just looking at her own reflection. Did she like what she saw? I did not. I wanted to break the mirror I was staring at. The urge to cause some damage was almost overwhelming, but I knew any damage to my room would be noticeable. I did not want Philippe to think anything was amiss.

I pulled my hand off the mirror and ran a hand through my hair to fix it when the door suddenly opened. I managed to control my fear enough not to back away. Only one person came into my room without knocking, and only one person had actually come to visit me since I had come up from the cellar. I stood my ground and offered a smile to Philippe when he entered. The smile was shaky at best, but so was every other part of me so it could not be helped.

Philippe smiled indulgently back at me. His smile was feral and only served to make me more nervous. I swallowed convulsively as he walked towards me. Picking at nonexistent fibers on my costume, I stared at his hands in fear that they may do more harm.

He spoke in an even voice, no emotion stronger than the other, "You will go to the masquerade and end your engagement," he grabbed the back of my neck and squeezed it painfully. "Look at me," he practically hissed.

I immediately obliged and replied, "Yes, brother."

He looked appeased. Scoffing, he continued, "You will retrieve the ring you gave her as proof of your obedience. Show it to me when I arrive."

I wondered what he meant. Were we not going in the same carriage? He was going, of that I was certain. Furthermore, if he was there, I knew he would be watching my every move. He would see me break my engagement.

He must have seen my confusion for he answered my unspoken question, "I have some business to attend to and am unsure of when I will make it to the gala. I expect you to have that ring before I arrive."

I nodded. I was only partially relieved that he would not be there. It was probably just another way to play with my mind. He did not tell me when he would arrive, so I would be constantly on edge. I would have to get that ring almost immediately, lest Philippe decide to arrive almost immediately just so that he had a reason to punish me. He found such sport in making me worry. He was also very good at doing so. I had yet to find the time to have a panic attack but it was hovering on the edges of my consciousness. The only thing that held it at bay was fear.

Hearing a knock on the door, Philippe finally released my neck.

"Comte, your carriage has arrived." A voice intoned from the hallway. He had not bothered to open the door. I believed that all the servants knew what Philippe was doing, but who were they to try to stop him. They would lose their jobs immediately. I felt bad for them that they had to deal with this situation. I knew I would be uncomfortable.

Philippe turned to leave. He stopped at the doorway however and my heart skipped a beat. He smiled easily, "Before I leave, I would like to hear your creed."

I looked him in the eyes, and let my mind go blank, "I am worthless." The words that had been the only constant during my time in the cellar. I could say this without meaning it. "I am nothing without this family." But it was getting harder every time. The words stuck in my mind. "I am nothing without this name." How could I not start to believe it? "I am nothing without my title." I was nothing without this title. I was nothing without these roles. How could I be anything more?

My brother stared at me with cold, calculating eyes again.

I blinked deliberately, allowing myself one moment away from that gaze. It was only a second but upon meeting his eyes, the expression had changed. He stared at me with pure hatred. I was forcefully reminded that it was true. For all the reasons I could think of, I could not quite understand why.

He smiled, the mirth not quite reaching his eyes, "You should depart soon, or you'll miss the fireworks." He opened the door slightly, "Oh, and do something about that hair of yours before I cut it off."

Walking out, I stared at the door as he shut it close. I could not look away from that closed door. I was half expecting him to re-enter. The smile had never left his face and I could not suppress the shudder that ran through me at the unveiled threat. He had left my room, but my body did not relax until I heard the carriage leave. I could finally look away. I released the breath that I had not realized I had been holding.

Grabbing a ribbon, I headed out of my room. However, I doubled over at the door. Wincing at the pain in my side, I realized that I could not walk normally without hurting myself. Additionally, having been so tense in Philippe's presence had only exacerbated the injury. I was fairly certain that my bandage would hold though. I only needed my wound not to begin to bleed again, and I would be fine. I slipped my hand underneath my shirt to probe the wound gently. It stung, but I was relieved to have confirmed that it had not reopened. I was thankful it because I did not want to worry about blood seeping through the bandage. It was enough that it hurt. I did not want to have to explain to some observant person why blood was seeping through my costume.

It hurt to even breathe, but like going to this masquerade, it was something I could not avoid. I was beginning to want it all to end. It seemed pointless to go on living if this was what I was confined to. I was worthless as it was, and the creed that Philippe had ingrained into my mind was entirely true. Maybe I should just let my mother and brother dictate how I should act. I should just become the perfect Vicomte. I should become the person that they expected. I shook my head viciously at those thoughts. I would choose death over becoming some pawn. I had to remember that. No matter what was said, I did not want to become some pawn.

However, that was where I was confused. I was already listening to everything that Philippe was telling me to do. My attempt at rebellion had been thwarted easily. I was a dog saying 'Yes, brother' whenever Philippe wanted. So, shouldn't I seek death instead?

However, hadn't I thought before that if I were to lose my titles, I would die? Life as I knew it would cease to exist and I essentially would be dead. So, shouldn't I feel the most alive I have ever felt? I had my title. I knew exactly what role I should play. I was to play the obedient brother and loving son. I was to play the proper Vicomte and a successful patron…

…except it felt like I had already died. In that cellar, I had been stripped of everything I was only to be rebuilt in a manner that Philippe saw fit. I had already died, and here I was with thoughts that were remnants of a previous life. I just did not know what to do anymore.

The answer came almost immediately. I did not know what part of me supplied it, but the answer was clear. Live day to day. I had to just move forward. I had to get through this night. That was all I had to think about.

Opening the door, I was startled when I almost ran into my mother as she was passing through the hallway. When I saw her this morning, the relief that Philippe really had not done any harm to her was immense. It had been the first time out of my room, and only because my brother had insisted I have breakfast with the family. We had not shared words beside those necessary, but she seemed to be in better spirits. I could tolerate her more, but she was making it easier. I had woken without her yelling at me this morning and she had yet to mention anything about Christine. Philippe must have told her everything had been fixed for she seemed to accept my presence tolerably as well.

I was glad. I had not meant to make her worry. I remembered my fears when I thought she had fallen ill. I had to remember that because of my own stubbornness I could have avoided this whole fiasco. It was not her fault at all, just my own. I smiled at her, honestly showing my joy. She tentatively returned the smile and was surprised when I leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek.

"Have a good evening. I'm off to the Opera Populaire," I reminded her.

She nodded and continued to her room. I strode evenly until I was out of sight. I did not want her thinking something was wrong with me. Biting the inside of my cheek, I controlled my breathing as my side throbbed. The pain was almost too intense to move. It was making me weak. I was certain that Philippe would know if I was tardy to the opera house though. I could relax in the carriage. It was the only incentive that made my body move.

Once I was inside the carriage, I leaned forward gasping painfully. Breathe in and out. In and out. It hurt less in this position. I lost myself to controlling my breathing and the constant mantra that I could get through this night.

When I realized that we were close to arriving at the opera house, I tentatively sat back and pulled my hair back to tie the ribbon. Luckily, by the time we stopped, I had composed myself. I would be dealing with pain the whole night. I could not let myself be weak so soon.

In the back of my mind, I noticed the fireworks. I did not have the time to think about it though. I had a goal – a goal I could not diverge from.

Entering the building, I grew more nervous with each step I took. The month I had spent in isolation had affected me more than I had thought. So many people around me and bumping into me made me paranoid. The only touch I had received had been one to deliver some sort of pain, and my mind could not understand anything else. I was jumpy, but I tried to hide it. I hid it behind a smile and by trying to have some buffer in personal space. The further I went in though, the less space there was at all. The panic attack that had been held at bay was threatening to break free.

I made my way to an empty alcove to gather my wits. Deep breaths. If I could ignore the pain, I could ignore my nerves. I just needed a moment. I was glad that no one important had yet to notice me though. I watched as a spectator as everyone celebrated.

The managers had some ballet dancers by their sides, so they were exuberant. Piangi and Carlotta fit right in with the loud music and boisterous crowd. Even Madame Giry appeared to be enjoying herself. Everyone was lost in their drunkenness and joy.

I wondered why I could not have just a piece of their happiness. Was it so horrible of me to expect that much?

I looked at the people laughing and acting like fools behind their masks. Those masks for them were an escape. They had less restraint when they wore those masks. Would they ever realize that a mask was more of a chain than any physical manacle? I doubted it. It was something that one realizes all too late. I needed no more masks, so I wore none tonight.

I jumped slightly when a hand grasped my bicep.

"Raoul," Christine smiled at me.

I could not tell if she was really happy to see me or if this was a conditioned response for her. I was supposed to be her fiancé, so this was the way she was supposed to react to my presence.

I used to find the least bit of solace in her attention but I could not bear to even look at her without feeling pain. It hurt to see her. It was unfair but I knew part of me blamed this whole situation on her. All the pain I had to endure was all because of this one girl. A girl I would not fight for. A girl I did not love. A girl who probably did not love me. As my own conditioned response, I smiled at her anyway.

"You've been away for so long, love." Christine pouted.

I gritted my teeth at the endearment. It was not her fault. I had not liked her calling me that a month ago, and now it felt as though she was trying to find a way to make Philippe be angry at me more. If he heard her call me love, he would surely punish me. He would punish me for even allowing her to think that it was alright for her to love me. I should have made it clear that she was below my status and therefore there would be no love between us. It was all my fault. If I had been stronger, I never would have endured this. I opened my mouth about to tell her.

She cut me off by pulling me towards the crowd. I almost cried out as she stretched my arm out further than was comfortable. My wound screamed in protest and I was about to voice the same malcontent.

"Christine," I choked out. She slowed her pace and finally stopped to turn around and face me.

"Look," she held out the ring, which had been placed on a chain and hung around her neck. "Think of it. A secret engagement." Did she have to look so enthusiastic about it? A secret engagement was embarrassing in itself. An engagement was something special. It was something that should have been spread. It also made breaking the engagement off a little easier for me. "Look, your future bride. Just think of it."

"Christine," I said urgently trying to get her attention. I could not let her go on. "Stop."

She looked at me oddly. I could not place what she was thinking, but then she tried to drag me again and I did not have time to think about it. "Let's dance," she suggested.

She was causing me so much unnecessary pain right now. Thoughts about hurting her were flashing in my mind, but I would hurt her emotionally soon enough that I could stifle the urge. I shook my head and stood my ground resolutely. "I need to talk to you."

She finally released my arm, seeing my serious expression. I did not know how to start. I knew I should try to let her down easy, but I did not think there was any other way. I glanced towards the entrance of the opera house. Philippe could arrive any moment. I did not have time to be kind, and considering how much pain I was in at the moment, I did not want to be kind. I blurted out, "The engagement is off. I can't marry you. I don't want to."

Three little sentences. She actually looked genuinely surprised. I thought to myself, 'That's the first real emotion I've ever seen on her.' I did not know if it was true, but the thought just came to me. I knew I did not need to add that last sentence, but I wanted to make it clear that it was my decision as well.

She turned around ready to storm away when I realized she was already leaving. I grabbed her arm. I did not have much strength in me as most of my energy was spent trying to just stay on my feet, but she stopped. She looked angrily at me though. There were tears that threatened to fall from her eyes, but she was clearly furious with me. More hatred. It appeared that it was simply my lot in life.

"What?" she spat.

I felt insensitive doing so, but I held out my hand, "I would like the ring back please."

She reached up to hold the ring and I thought she would return it without argument. Instead, my head whipped to the right as she slapped me as hard as she could manage before storming away. I stumbled but caught myself. I flexed my jaw and could feel my cheek heat up. Wondering if anyone saw, I looked around, but no one seemed to be paying special attention to me.

I searched the crowd desperately for any sign of Christine, but she had disappeared. I needed that ring. I felt too weak to move, but I forced myself forward. Fear for my life was a good motivator.

I had searched for her for more than an hour and still I did not catch one glimpse. My legs were heavy and my side throbbed in beat with my heart. Even through the pain, I smiled and stood as straight as I could manage. Appearances were everything and I had already run into the managers. Andre had unknowingly slapped me on the back at a funny comment he had made himself. I winced, but he did not make a comment. I knew at least that Andre did not notice anything amiss with me. On the other hand, Firmin was more observant of the two. I was certain that he was too drunk to notice anything though. It was a relief because if anyone asked any questions, I feared that Philippe would hear of it. He told me to keep this a secret, and no force on earth could coerce the words from my mouth. Philippe was too intent on making my life miserable for me to give him any more reasons than the ones he fabricated.

This search was expending too much of my energy though. I just wanted to take the ring and leave, but even if I did obtain the ring, Philippe would expect me to still be here. Desperation and fear clung to my very soul. I needed that ring before Philippe arrived. So much time had already passed.

I was about ready to resign myself to whatever punishment Philippe would mete out. I was ready to die in fact when I suddenly spotted her dancing near the stair well. She was smiling and any sign of tears was gone from her eyes. I wanted to scream in frustration. She was either a good actress or she had never really cared about me. Actually, that meant she was a good actress either way. I briefly thought about revenge, but I could not bring myself to fully hate her. I would be like Philippe if I hated someone, and in essence, she had only been using me like I had wanted to use her. How could I be angry with her?

Seeing her partner and her stop dancing to watch the performance, I pushed my body forward. One last exertion. This was it. I would get the ring in this attempt. I would not talk to her. I would just grab the ring and be done with this episode of my life.

As I was about to reach her, the lights blew out and it seemed as though time stopped. Everyone turned to watch as Red Death, the devil himself, walked down the stairs.

I cursed my luck and stopped moving myself. It would do no good trying to get to her now that everyone had stopped watching the show. My movement towards her would only cause me to stand out. I needed a weapon. Leaving the room as subtly as I could, I returned with a sword only to see the phantom and Christine just staring at each other. I wondered if he was going to kiss her. The thought made me frown, but I brushed it aside for the sake of concentrating. This was not a time to be letting my thoughts drift. I had one goal for the night, and that was to retrieve the ring from Christine. I had not thought she would make it so difficult.

I saw the sheet music thrown on the floor and seeing the looks on the managers', Piangi's, and Carlotta's faces, he had probably made some more demands. Everyone's eyes were transfixed on the pair. I too paused, as the tension seemed to suffocate me. I swayed unsteadily. I thought I saw the focus of the phantom's eyes dart over towards my direction, but it must have been my imagination. I was certain he would not harm Christine. Everything he had done was to keep her away from me, and in a way, he was just protecting her. I decided that I would only interfere if it seemed necessary. I did not want to give him the idea that I had not broken off the engagement. I wondered if he knew already.

I had to strain to hear the harsh whisper, as the phantom leaned forward, "Your chains are still mine. You belong to me."

It was not the words that surprised me. Rather, his next action stopped my heart completely. He grabbed the ring on her neck and yanked it off. I wanted to scream at him to stop, but he escaped in an explosion of smoke through a trap door in the floor. I moved before I could think of the consequences. I had to have that ring. I pushed my body forward and gave chase.

Then I was falling. Hitting the ground, I managed to stay on my feet even though my legs were threatening to buckle. I unsteadily looked around. Mirrors. It had to be mirrors. I held my sword at ready even though I was certain my arms would not be able to handle any strike, much less one from the phantom of the opera.

"Phantom," I attempted, but I received no response.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow. I turned but nothing was there.

"I need to talk to you."

He was playing with me. Just like Philippe, but the thought did not settle well with me. The phantom could not been like Philippe. I did not think that the world could survive with two people like Philippe. I knew I could not. I open my mouth again, but suddenly he was appearing everywhere. The constant turning to catch just the barest sight of him was making me dizzy, but I needed to stop him. A part of me knows that he's nowhere I could possibly reach him. This was a losing battle. Not only did I feel too weak to continue this game, but I was also in one of his traps.

I turned when I heard what sounded like Madame Giry's voice, but when I did, a knee swung into my abdomen. My mouth opened in a silent scream. I was in too much pain and shock for anything to come out. Doubled over, something hard connected to the back of my head. I dropped to the floor already feeling the headache forming.

I tried to cling onto consciousness, but it was too hard. It was too painful. I was too weak. The last thought I had before blacking out was, 'Please, not again.'

o.o.o.o

End ch11

word count: 5,249

o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!

Hey, I was out of the circuit for a while, and I did not think it had been that long but I just saw 'w/e'… I feel like an idiot, but what does that stand for?