Author's Note: All lovey-dovey innocence ahead with the Vicomte! No trigger warnings here.
It was awkward to be amongst people, innocent people, when she felt so dirty and crude. They knew nothing of her past life, it wasn't as if sex for a living was her choice or defined her as a person, but it was always there. Only a tad under the surface, the feeling of men's hands upon her haunted her dreams, the silver of a kitchen knife reminded her of Apple, at night the creaks of other servants' racks reminded her of her horrible little attic. If it were not for Raoul de Chagny, she was sure to have run away within the first month.
"I'm always home on the weekends." He'd promised her one day when he'd stolen an orange from the kitchen. That afternoon he spent the day with his elbows leaning on the counter as he watched her cut carrots into precise portions for beef stew. And then, every Friday night thereafter was spent in the same way. Raoul would roll up his shirt sleeves and lean across the table, talking to her of everything and absolutely nothing at the same time. He'd learned her favorite color had grown to be blue, she enjoyed music above all else, and she'd always wanted a cat. She learned that he despised working as an apprentice to a lawyer, that he much preferred horseback riding to any other sort of travel, and his favorite color was growing to be green.
On Saturdays, after Christine had helped serve and restore the rooms after breakfast and then helped to prepare dinner, Raoul and she would take walks through the house. They weren't very exciting walks, but she had nothing but her uniform to wear in public, so they remained in doors and continued to talk. Raoul told stories to her, of England, of some of the cases he'd had to deal with in the office, of his childhood and what it was like being raised in the shadow of his genius brother. No one commented on the unlikely pairing, and Christine had an inkling it was because he had ordered it so. But she did not mind, as long as she was not bothered for making a friend. A friend who was a man, who respected her, cared for her, sought her out for nothing more than conversation and strolls through his house. Soon, she could think of nothing but Raoul. He wanted to be her friend, willingly! Raoul de Chagny was the kindest man she'd ever met, besides perhaps her Papa.
Sundays were spent back in the kitchen, preparing foods for throughout the week and performing a deep cleaning on all of the appliances, the cook had made sure Christine knew these were the "Madame's orders." At nightfall, Raoul would sneak Christine out through the service doors. She'd never felt so free or young in her life, with her arm tucked carefully in his, she struggled to keep up with his long stride as he tugged her through the darkened streets of Paris with laughter upon his lips. The destination was always the same, for four months Raoul led her out to the park where they would sit upon their bench and stare up at the stars. These visits were what kept Christine going during the week. Out on the bench, nothing mattered but them; their rankings, their past, her job, his family, dissolved into nothingness. Everything fell away until they were nothing but a young couple sitting hand in hand on the bench, sharing secrets under the stars.
"I don't think my mother ever loved me." He revealed one night, giving her hand a squeeze as he pulled her attention away from the sky.
"I doubt that's true, Raoul-"
"No, I mean it. She's never said it before except on holidays and my birthday, I'm not really sure it counts then."
"Don't be ridiculous, your mother cares for you very much—or you wouldn't be here today. No mother could stop loving her child-"
"Your turn Christine, tell me a secret. Tell me what you think about at night before you fall asleep." He smiled at the red tint that rose in her cheeks, she was beautiful. It was true, less than a year living in better conditions made her a rose in full bloom. Christine hardly knew it of course, her work clothes and occupation hid all self-love from her, but Raoul could see past all of that and into the eyes of a beautiful young woman with a beautiful soul.
"No, Raoul, do not make me-" She rose to stand, but he clasped her hand and pulled her stumbling back onto the bench. Closer to him, hand upon his firm shoulder to steady herself, his winter cloak wrapped around her shoulders and encompassing her in his smell of cinnamon. His minty breath teased at her senses, pulling her eyes down to the shiny teeth revealed by his contagious smile that she was so fond of.
"I insist! I paid my dues, now you."
"I think, sometimes, of what it would be like…if you were to give me a kiss." Confessing in a voice no louder than a whisper, Christine blushed furiously as he held her gaze. It was a long few moments of silence before he pressed his lips to hers, gently coaxing her into a tight embrace with his arms woven around her small body until she was situated upon his lap. One kiss turned into a dozen, with their small gasps and giggles between, neither were new to kissing but continued to blush furiously at the surprise of mutual enjoyment. His lips were soft and body was warm as he pulled her close, pressing chaste kisses to her reddened nose and flushed cheeks.
These encounters continued on for quite some time, weeks turned into months and months bloomed quickly into a fresh year. Christine was trusted in the household by workers and family members alike, no one let the friendship between the youngest de Chagny and the youngest maid come to the surface, although nearly everyone knew of the happenings. Kisses had remained chaste, touches fleeting, Raoul assured her weekly that he wanted to keep up with propriety and Christine was perfectly happy with the news. Raoul was her everything, her sunlight, her moonlight, her every breath and thought revolved around what it would be like for this to continue on forever. At the bloomed age of seventeen, marriage was on her mind. It was unbelievable to think how much her life had changed in a year. From brothel to mansion, whore to maid, loner to lover, Raoul had changed everything. In her mind, she owed everything to the young man who had swept her off of her feet so quickly, yet so innocently. Kind, giving, handsome, gentle, and respectful, he was everything she could have asked for and more.
In august on a Wednesday, Raoul came to his family home. With Christine's small hand in his much larger gloved one, he pulled her through the park but did not allow her to stop where they usually sat. Instead, they took a stroll in the moonlight, her skirts swishing leaves along the path, his free hand pointing up at the stars, her lips pressed gratefully to his shoulder. His mother would kill him, surely, if she heard of this relationship, but that was only part of the fun in it. Christine's hair tickled his cheeks as he placed a solitary kiss on her ear as he leant forward to tell her his secret of the night,
"I've never felt this way about a lady before." Guilt tore through the young woman quickly, tears filling her eyes faster than she was able to calculate her own emotions. She had not realized a sentence could be so moving, and push her so far toward the edge.
"Raoul I am nothing if not an honest woman. It is only fair that you know that I am no lady." He laughed incredulously, tossing his head in a way that sent the moonlight shining through his golden locks. A sigh escaped her lips before she could stop it.
"Come, come Christine, you know I care nothing for your position. I care for you as a woman, not as a worker or class member." She turned her back to him, hoping if she did not look him in his face, the task would become easier even as panic gripped her heart with a steel fist.
"That's not what I mean, Raoul. I lied to you when you found me in the streets. I was not homeless…I worked in a brothel….as a whore." The words were not easy, they were choked and tense, she wasn't quite sure if she'd admitted the words aloud before. They stung to hear, ripping through their relationship like a knife, stabbing her in the heart she'd only just learned to allow to love. Silence stole the next moments away, leaves swished in the wind, her own blood pounded in her ears, Raoul's boots crunched leaves. And then she was spinning, quickly, he was grasping her by the shoulders and pulling her into a deep kiss, one of love and passion. Tears fell quickly from her clenched eyes as she realized this was their last kiss, his goodbye to her.
"Thank you, I'm sorry I could not have been a better woman for you."
"Nonsense, thank you for being just how you are. I love you this way, past included." A shocked gasp was captured by his imploring lips, he crushed her into a hug, spinning her round and round. When he released her and allowed her to steady herself on a nearby tree, Raoul dropped to his knee and fought a diamond ring out of his pocket before he took her shaking fingers and slipped the ring onto her wedding finger.
"Everything that is mine is yours, everything you've gone through is mine, we are one and I love you." His words stayed seared in her mind forever, never would she be able to forget his hopeful eyes and charming grin as he pulled her into another kiss, this time against the tree, and whispered promises of a new life into her ears. Raoul de Chagny had stolen, encased, and adored her heart. And she his.
Love seemed to have cured all of Christine's woes, the bags under her eyes were lighter, her hair had regained its buoyancy, and her pale cheeks were flushed with joy and gaiety. When she awoke the morning after her engagement with the heavy diamond still resting on her finger, she broke into tears of joy. Even in the dim lighting of the servants' quarters, the diamond upon her ring glinted in the sunlight. Christine dressed quickly and tugged her cap on as she bounded outside, spontaneously deciding that nothing could be more beautiful to welcome in this change of life, than watching the sunrise. Raoul would be able to spend the afternoon with her, that he had promised, but then he would be forced to go back downtown for work until Saturday evening.
The backyard of the de Chagny household was spacious for a city home, there were no large trees or bushes, but a swing hung on the back-porch surrounded by a small rose garden that she'd helped keep up with during her first few months as a worker there. It smelt glorious, and with a giggle she could not possibly contain, Christine plopped down on the swing and watched as the sun began to pull higher and higher into the sky. Her thoughts wandered as she felt the sun's rays playing against her skin, it was a marvelous contrast to the cool pull of wind against her. She could see it now, herself tucked up in an extravagant bed as Raoul stood near the window in nothing but his trousers, in his arms was a beautiful baby with Raoul's hair and eyes, perhaps Christine's love of music. A beam slid onto her face, they would pay for their beautiful darling to take violin lessons and one day he would be able to play the music Christine's father had composed. It was a stunning dream and she could hardly believe that the ring upon her finger was what tied it to reality.
The morning dragged on slowly, after watching the sunrise she had ducked back to her bedroom and tucked her father's music into her breast, she would give anything for him to have been there to celebrate with her, but having his music close to her heart was the next best thing. As Christine cleaned and chopped vegetables for dinner, she assured herself that Papa would have loved Raoul. He was everything he'd have wanted for her: kind, compassionate, smart, handsome, and comfortable in social status. Raoul would provide her with everything she would have had to fight for, for the rest of her life. Feeling truly blessed, she set the table for lunch with a smile upon her lips, the ring stayed tucked away into her boot for safe keeping and secrecy from the other workers.
"Mademoiselle Daae?" Turning away from the crystal place settings that she was busy setting on the silk tablecloth, Christine turned toward the Madame's voice. As usual, she stood in a black gown that billowed about her, making her seem much larger than she actually was.
"Madame?"
"Your presence is requested in the main office, immediately."
The office, which she had once thought to smell of honey and sweet leather, stunk of tobacco and was as stuffy as a summer's day. Philippe was leaning against the book cases, a look of worry upon his face and his hair sticking up at odd ends, Christine might have laughed had she not sensed the tense atmosphere of the room. Hands extended, Christine met Raoul on the sofa and was unnerved by his sweaty palms grasping her fingers so tightly. She'd never seen him look as disarrayed as he looked in that uncomfortable room, glancing back and forth between his brother and mother, never making eye contact with his fiancé. Christine thought it odd that his mother stood by the door with her hands behind her back, her lips a tight line and a flush blooming in her pale cheeks.
"Raoul, Raoul what's wrong? What is it?"
"His name is Master de Chagny to you, or Vicomte de Chagny. Your engagement is broken and your service is no longer needed in this household, I do not employ the likes of lying whores. You may collect your things and be gone by dinner; you will not be in contact with my sons again. Good day." Christine's eyes were brimming with tears before her speech was finished. Raoul would never do this to her, telling his family was one thing, abandoning her was another story.
"Raoul…?" With fingers twisting in her lap and tears steadily falling faster, she trailed off in hope of a reply, even as the Madame stood with the door open and a hand gestured out for Christine to leave. Raoul had long ago released her hands and was now avoiding eye contact, the material on his thighs seemed much more interesting then Christine's hopeful plea.
"Raoul, I am leaving now…You will never see me again…Raoul?" He was horrible at covering his emotions, and tears were freely falling from him as well as his mother stood beside the door, clearing her throat loudly as Christine fell to the carpet. If only he would look at her, one last time. Desperate, she was inching toward him on her knees, grasping his hands and begging his name in a strangled whisper. It was Philippe who spoke her name angrily, rushing to the center of the room to pull her to her feet by the forearm. Gentility within the family was forgotten as she was pushed out of the office and the door was slammed in her face. Marie escorted her to grab her things, deaf even as Christine sobbed all the louder upon the realization that she had nowhere to go, no references, no hope for the future.
She was spurned out onto the street, once again finding herself alone in a world much too big for a poor girl of only seventeen. Unbelieving of her horrible luck, she stared up at the white mansion in confusion. The blinds were drawn quickly and she knew there was no use pounding against the door. In her panic and disbelief of the Madame's cruelty, she then realized that she had been unable to plead her case. If only she had reminded them of her dead father, of the need for food and shelter in times when she was useless for all else beside her body, perhaps they would have let her stay. Her small, sobbing frame could be seen heading toward the park, with no knowledge of the rest of the city and only a few francs to her name, by nightfall the park bench seemed the only reasonable option. Her weeping continued, quieter and quieter as she grew exhausted, throwing herself down onto the bench and yanking her little blue cap from her head. The park was empty and cold, without Raoul's cloak to warm her she was nothing but a shivering stack of goosepimpled limbs. Hopeful that Raoul would meet her at the bench, Christine remained there through the night, staying awake with tears falling from her eyes for as long as possible. Until finally, sleep brought her peace, at last.