Thank you for the wonderful reviews, they are a great inspiration! Sister Antoinette might be making her last appearance in this chapter, so I should tell you that she is based on Madame Giry and the other new character in this chapter… you can guess that easily enough.

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Chapter 1

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France continued its existence under the rule of Louis XII, peacefully growing strong and expanding. The passage of years went unnoticed by most, but Mother Superior of the convent of St. Catherine counted almost each day. It had been almost forty years since she had opened the door of the monastery to find an abandoned child on the doorstep – back then, she had been an ordinary nun. Now, she was the head of the convent, about the only surviving nun from the religious society she had joined in her youth.

Now, it had been over thirty years since she had walked into that cell to find it empty.

Erik had been accepted by the nuns eventually, after Sister Antoinette convinced them of the fact that he truly was a human child, not a devil simply due to his face. His voice had been, at first, claimed to be the Devil's instrument of Seduction, but the Mother Superior of those days, Beatrice, understood that a new age was dawning and one wasn't taught by the Lord to banish those that hadn't sinned. The child's only sin was his face… and, as long as it was hidden from sight, the nuns, while jumpy, had no need to be squeamish.

The child was treated with kindness, mainly by Sister Antoinette, whom the boy began calling Mama, Mother, before she corrected him, with some regret, that she wasn't his Mama. Erik didn't understand at first, but as he grew, he began to grow distant and even more and more immersed in his studies of practically anything and everything he came across. Soon, however, he began to find the world of the monastery limiting, and while Sister Antoinette never showed him his face because she feared it would he a traumatizing experience, he was exceptionally smart and quickly noticed that he was treated differently than other children.

The moment of realization, he took badly. Though all mirrors within his reach were gone, one couldn't destroy the windows, the water… eventually, he saw. And he understood.

But his mind was too great, his horizons too absolute, and that he couldn't bear. And once he was old enough to realize that he had outgrown the walls of the convent, he fled from the place, leaving only a note for Sister Antoinette, a note of thanks and gratitude on his pillow in the cell he had received long ago. The few possessions he had gathered over the years were gone.

Sister Antoinette understood that this was a permanent goodbye, a farewell. That night, as she would proceed to repeat every night afterwards, she prayed for him, for his safety. He would survive, of that, she had no doubt, but thus far, he knew very little of the outside world. Sister Antoinette alone realized that perhaps it was too much to ask of the nuns to understand that their reclusive lifestyle prevented them from seeing that outside, the world was very different. Thus the church didn't understand the outside world and the outside world made a mockery of the church.

She had progressed herself, eventually becoming Mother Superior of her convent, but never journeyed far from the safety of the walls, trying to shape the convent to fit the more modern world. It was clear to all that a new age was dawning, that soon, the ways of old would be overshadowed by the new philosophy of humanism that was spreading throughout the world from Italy. The church would have to adapt to the new world… and Mother Antoinette was willing to make some compromises to ensure that the nuns under her care would be prepared.

She had known ever since she had begun to realize just how much talent God had given her youthful protégé that she wouldn't be able to hold him once he would realize what she had known long ago – that eventually, the walls of the convent would seem to be those of a prison to him. She hadn't searched for him when he left, knowing that if he left, he did so because he felt there was no more reason to stay. If she would have detained him, he would have grown resentful towards her… and sister Antoinette knew better than to trigger the spectacular temper she had seen him struggle with many times.

She sighed as she left her cell to go pray to the local chapel. Again, she wondered why the world was so prejudiced to those whose sin was only ugliness. Perhaps it was truly the Lord's next test of the faithful, to find out whether compassion was still in the world… and whether his children had learned the lesson of the Crucifixion.

Unfortunately, Mother Superior's faith in this was very slight.

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The outskirts of Paris in the year 1492 were a wonderful place for an aristocratic palace.

The estate of the Chagny family was a large and quite beautiful building, well-kept and soon to be renewed. However, maintaining those two traits was quite an expensive feat – precisely what gave Christine Daaé hope that they might require one more maid to help in the kitchens or to wipe the floors. She had heard of the kindness of the local Comte, who acted as a father figure to his three siblings, of which only his younger brother now remained unmarried, because it seemed to be a much greater task to convince a young man to marry than to do so with a young woman.

Christine herself didn't even dream of marriage. All she wished for was a small room and a bit of food for herself. She had been an orphan for quite some time now, as her father had died of the plague and the girl, only six at the time, had been sent to the nearest orphanage and treated rather roughly, as all street urchins were. Thus she had a nauseatingly thin figure, a long, ghost-like face and seemed to be very sad at all times. At sixteen, she looked no more than thirteen. However, her blue eyes would have been pretty if she would smile and her hair, despite all the tangles, shone with goldish lights.

Today, she had put on her best frock– in the eyes of anyone even moderately rich, the plainest dress ever – and washed her face the best she could. She was most eager to leave the orphanage and this was, apparently, the best bet she had. She approached the estate slightly fearfully, and then quietly found her way to the service entrance. After a soft knock, she proceeded to knock slightly louder. Eventually, one of the maids opened it for her, a girl of a few more years than she, but with black hair and dark eyes.

"What do you want?" she asked, but not in a completely unkind tone.

Christine shrunk slightly, but voiced her plea. "I… I heard that the estate might require more servants, I have come to ask if you have any need for a girl, mademoiselle." She said, as if she was speaking to the lady of the house.

The girl laughed. "You are little more than skin and bones – you're lucky I was in the kitchens and not Suzette who opened the door. Come in, quickly, there's always the need for another pair of hands, but those hands have to be able to work, a skeleton is of no use to us."

She motioned to Christine to follow her and the girl, now slightly less afraid, followed. They walked into the kitchen of the estate, one of the larger rooms of the servants´ part of the building. Meanwhile the maid that had allowed her entrance cut some bread and fetched some cooked meat and water, preparing Christine what the blonde considered almost a royal meal. She almost forgot to thank the maid and ate with quite a lot of gusto.

The maid smiled slightly when she saw Christine eat as if she was doing it for the first time ever. "You will have to earn your keep, mind, when I introduce you to the Master. Lord de Chagny knows all of the servants by name and he is strict… but fair as well." she added, seeing the girl's wide eyes, "He will allow you to stay, have no worry." Pausing for a moment, she remembered she hadn't even asked for an introduction. She corrected that mistake at once.

"My name is Christine."

"I'm Marguerite." the maid noted briskly, "I'll show you around as soon as the Master approves your stay. He is out hunting with his brother right now; he should be back in a few hours."

By the time Christine had finished her meals, several other servants came and went, casting her curious glances, but Marguerite always spared her need to answer. Another girl had come running to Marguerite, who seemed to be quite the authority among the maids, telling her that the Lord de Chagny had returned from the hunt and, as Marguerite had asked her, she had told him about the new girl.

"He wishes to see her now – he seems to be in a good mood, the hunt was eventful, apparently."

Marguerite nodded curtly. "Thank you, Jeanette. Come, Christine, I will take you to Lord de Chagny. Now don't be frightened, remember what I said." Christine shakily stood up, swallowing dryly, and, like a lost puppy, followed Marguerite throughout the mansion.

She stared at everything and anything once they left the servant areas. The estate was decorated, but not lavish, more beautiful than any building she had ever visited, save the church, perhaps. But there had always been something unmistakably regal about churches, something Christine was afraid of. As a street urchin, she had little fears now. She had lived in the gutter for a while – she wasn't afraid of human cruelty. But that of the Heavens, however just, she feared.

Her father had told her stories of angels and the Heavens, of the beautiful music that played there. Christine loved mass because she was able to sing. She had a pretty voice, but a quiet one. She had very few reasons to sing most of the time. Now, she promised to herself that she would sing to her father in heaven if she would get this job, if the Count would allow her to stay. She would scrub the floors, wash dishes, anything, simply to get out of the orphanage.

"Monsieur," Marguerite stopped and curtsied once she came across her master, a handsome but slightly stern man with a truly sharp gaze. "This girl has come to ask if she may help out in the kitchens or around the estate as a maid. Her name is Christine."

The Comte de Chagny shifted his gaze to Christine. He saw the frailty of her build as much as everyone did, but also the desperation spreading through her eyes. It was clear that she would be going straight back to the streets, should he refuse. However, the Comte was many things, but not a cruel man. He nodded slowly. "Very well, since Heloise cannot work now because of her pregnancy, I suppose we could use another hand in the kitchens. Marguerite." The maid curtsied again quickly. "You know best what work is required. Make certain that the child gets some food and easier work at first."

Marguerite smiled slightly, but nodded and looked down quickly to say that she understood. "Yes, Monsieur le Comte. I will do exactly as you say."

"Good. You may go, both of you."

Marguerite curtsied and the brief look she gave Christine told the girl that she should do the same. They left together and the Comte de Chagny watched them disappear out of sight, shaking his head. Hopefully, the girl would be in better shape soon. He had no need for servants who couldn't even lift a broomstick. But he was willing to give her a chance.

"Philippe!" the Comte turned and his face softened. His younger brother, Raoul, was hurrying towards him, crossbow still in hand.

Raoul, while not the direct heir of the Chagny family, was considered an heir by Philippe. The Vicomte was his junior by two decades, which was more than enough to ensure that the estate of the Chagny family would be well-kept until an heir of Philippe himself would take over, should one be produced. Still, no signs of that happening were visible. The Comtesse de Chagny had died at childbirth and the child had been a stillborn. The Comte had an affair with one of the maids, but it was pretty non-comitial from his point of view. And even that showed no promise of a bastard of an heir – for that, he was glad.

The Vicomte de Chagny was himself was unmarried, but his brother strived to correct that as soon as possible. Raoul was surrounded by women at every ball, all of whom were hoping to become his wife one day. Thought Raoul appeared not to be willing to spend his life with any of them, Philippe was quite certain that he would be able to find a suitable wife for his brother among the many baronesses, marquises and countesses of France. The name of de Chagny was ancient and very respected, not to mention very wealthy. And Raoul himself wasn't in any way unappealing to the female eye – with soft features, sincere eyes and a smile that often appeared on his face, he was more than enough to make any lady swoon.

"The hunt today was spectacular!" the Vicomte said with a smile as he came to a halt. "We should truly go together more often – one would say that you are like good wine, better with each year, dear brother."

The Comte chuckled. He had caught more animals than his brother that day. "Still, you know the quotation: no luck in the game means luck in love."

"Luck has little to do with skill." Raoul noted, trying to change the topic from what he dreaded it was going to be.

"Unfortunately, love has a lot to do with the future. Or, to be more precise, marriage has."

The Vicomte sighed. "Philippe, we have gone over this many times. You have introduced me to every noblewoman in France. I desire none of them, not even if you would offer me the queen herself. I want to marry a woman I will love."

"I have nothing against that – surely you will find one you can love among the noblewomen of the world. If not France, then Italy, perhaps. The occupation is still continuing, but I believe we should strengthen our bonds with our southern friends." Philippe noted.

Raoul raised an eyebrow. "I am listening."

"Your marriage to an Italian noblewoman would be amazing for our family. I have taken the liberty of inviting several of my friends with their families from Italy to a masked ball – a Venetian tradition – I plan on organizing. Among them will be more than enough potential candidates for your future wife. Fitting candidates." The Comte said, satisfied.

"Very well." Raoul sighed, "But promise me that I may choose myself and if I do not pick one, allow me to have some time."

Philippe nodded. "You're my brother, which is more important than anything. All I am saying is that marriage brings happiness, Raoul, in time. Even if you wouldn't love your wife at first, I'm quite certain you would grow to love her. And that is a safe love, a stabile one, unlike the first infatuation you experience."

Embracing his brother briefly, Raoul turned to leave and store his crossbow in the armory. He wondered how his brother could be so unemotional about love. What he spoke of was habit, getting used to something, not love! Raoul couldn't imagine himself marrying a woman simply because he was told to. Without love, there was nothing, he said to himself. Until he would find a woman he would love, he would rather devote himself to hunting animals.

On the way from the armory, he passed Marguerite, who was showing some other girl, apparently a new maid, the rooms. Both curtsied and he nodded quickly to them, but he didn't almost give them a second glance. Fortunate they were, the lot of them, the servants, he thought sadly, they had to serve others, true, but they didn't have to force their hearts into serving anyone.

For the first time in his life, Raoul wished the unthinkable for an aristocrat: that he wanted to be a commoner.