"Angel, please forgive me! There is no way for us, don't you see? I cannot stay here with you, though my heart aches and there is a false smile on my face. Know my soul only belongs to you. Great Angel, please do not forsake me!" She started out to the tune of her Angel's song, then switched to just singing her words in one passionate pitch. Her loose curls bounced around in the air as she gave one last frantic look around the room before heading to the foyer.
"Lotte!" Raoul cried and jumped up from his seat at the doors of the opera house. "You look lovely…but tired, is everything all right?" He escorted her to his carriage and helped her in; chattering away after she said everything was well. The Vicomte continued to speak of nothing important, and Christine occasionally nodded, but mostly stared out the window. 'Have I made the right choice?' the singer silently asked herself and prayed that she had. Soon enough, they arrived at his mansion, and his endless babble ceased.
But her relief was shredded when she heard the loud laughs and compliments of his family, whom she hadn't seen since before her illness. Christine pasted on a false smile and chatted along with the De Changys. Excluding Raoul's mother, they were a merry bunch. Raoul's father always had a story to tell, and soon enough, Philippe, Raoul's little brother, had made a real smile appear on her face.
"Philippe, you ought to stop telling that story, your brother looks a little red in the face." The Comte De Chagny said dryly, and poured more wine for his beautiful wife. Christine couldn't help laughing a little at the brothers. Raoul was caring, sweet and charming, while Philippe was flirty, charismatic and debonair. When they were together, Christine was never bored. The younger brother regretfully ended his amusing tale, and Raoul shot a confident grin to anyone looking. The dinner ended after many courses, and the men went off to smoke cigars. "Come, Christine, let us go to the parlor." Adellyn said softly. The younger woman looked up in surprise. Her future mother in-law had sounded almost agreeable.
When the opera singer had first eaten at the De Changys', Adellyn had been quite horrible when they were alone, and given her slight snubs whenever the rest of the family was around. She had continued to do that for every visit, including this one. But her voice had suddenly become quite friendly to the girl, and she smiled becomingly when Christine finally ventured into the parlor. The Comtess poured some sherry for the two of them and gracefully sat down on her favorite lounge. Christine nervously looked at the dark liquid and slowly took a sip. She had never had sherry before. It was strong and yet, still faintly sweet. But she did not quite trust Adellyn, and cautiously said, "This is very good." The lounging woman smiled and said, "I'm glad you like it."
"Are we friends now?" Christine asked quietly and shyly, for she had wanted the Comtess to like her ever since she met her. Adellyn suddenly laughed shrilly and spat, "Of course not, you stupid girl!" The brunette gasped with hurt and her already large brown eyes widened in pain. "I am just in good spirits today. I have found the girl my darling Raoul shall marry, and of course, she is not you." Christine straightened as Adellyn rose from the chaise and poured more drink for herself and the younger singer. "She is of exceptional breeding, beauty and manners. I have seen girls like you before, sluts from poor families trying to raise their status by getting as many good men to fall in love with them at once. You think you have ensnared Raoul. I see you make eyes at Philippe as well! But, mark my words, you shall never mar the De Chagny name because Raoul will soon come to his senses and end this folly." She offered a cruel smile and smoothed a perfect gold curl. "Now, let us play cards." Her sudden mood swings startled Christine, who had still been wondering what a 'slut' was. Then she had remembered the girls at the opera house who disappeared at night with young men and came back later with gifts and money. Mme Giry had called them the same word while disciplining them, and Christine knew it must be a very bad insult.
"Why do you wish to play cards with me, the lowly slut?" Christine asked in a hard voice, and the Comtess laughed in amusement. "Oh, you are can be quite feisty when you want, hmm? I must say, your act of innocence was getting quite old to me. I want to play cards with you because I have run out of books to read and I am bored. So while we wait for the gentlemen to finish up, we can at least be entertained."
"I don't know any card games, I'm afraid you'll have to teach me one." Christine answered in a slow voice, liking the way the noble woman groaned. While Christine would enjoy making the rich lady aggravated, she felt bad for lying; as she did know many card games, and for acting deliberately stupid, which she had been taught was another form of deception.
"Goodnight, dearest." Raoul whispered and brushed a stray curl from Christine's face. "I hope you had fun tonight. I am afraid that I'll be going out of town for the next while. But I will be here for the opera show you told me about at dinner. I'll be in box five, look for me." He gave her a soft and quick kiss and swiftly returned to his waiting carriage. "Goodnight, dearest." Christine answered as the carriage disappeared into the night. She slowly walked into the opera house, and pondered about the confusing ways of Raoul De Chagny. Sometimes, he would only be the most caring and selfless of heroes, and others, he couldn't be bothered to wait for Christine to reply or even hear her opinion. He is the best of men,and has never had to worry about the cost of his dinner...He is the best of men. She quietly repeated to herself and walked into her dark room. The smell of roses was overpowering and magical. She saw the beloved shape of many flowers scattered across her furniture, and quickly walked over to the nearest bloom, which was on her dresser. She plucked it up, and the thin stem broke in her hands and left little wisps on her hands.
"Oh no!" Christine cried, and turned away from the decaying rose to lite her candles. Then she saw. All of the roses were dead. The stems were dark brown and crispy, the petals nearly black and dusty, and the ribbons wrapped around the frail stalks had faded to a dull gray with frayed ends. "No, no, no!" She pitifully kept repeating and glancing at all of the dead plants. Then the girl piled them into a stack and tossed them out the open windows, but the heavenly smell still remained. The sight of all the black, dying flowers had shaken something in Christine that she hadn't even known she had, and she got ready for bed that night with shaking fingers. She gave one last sorrowful look out her window and had turned back to face her room when all the candles blew out. Gasping, Christine slowly walked backwards toward her bed, and sank in fearfully. The dead roses had shown her maestro's anger, and now she felt like she would have to pay the price.
"Did you have a good time with your suitor? I know you did. You cannot bear to be away from him, can you? I understand how that feels,to have to be away from the one you love." His voice sounded strangely calm, but yet there was an undertone of anger and mocking disdain. Christine remained silent, and cowered atop the covers, her hands knotting into the silky fabric of the blanket that he had given her not so long ago."What is so irresistible about this Vicomte? At first, I assumed you were jealous of his hair, and were plotting on figuring out on how it he styled it." The Phantom laughed spitefully, then continued,"But then I saw the look in your amber eyes. Delighted and charmed, doting. This silly boy does nothing to earn your desired love, and yet you run to him like a child afraid of the dark. That is what you are. A child afraid of the dark...Perhaps it is his always sunny manner that draws you in. Perhaps it is your repulsion of me." Erik's voice slowly lost its power and became quiet and mournful, and Christine's eyes widened with surprised pity. Then he spoke with the power and conviction of a man who knows what he wants. "Christine. Soon you shall see past his charade. You will know that you can't live without darkness, it is what you crave. You love it, and that is why you fear it. I have given you the chance to join me, and to live with the darkness of my music, and you have denied me. When I ask again, you will not refuse me. You will not have a choice!" His last sentence ended in a passionate shout, then, a great wind blew through the room, and all was silent.
Though she was incredibly sleepy, she did not sleep soundly that night. Her mind kept on conjuring images of being forced to live alone and underground her whole life, and of Raoul forever calling her name and searching in the darkness. Christine would always run toward the sound of his voice, but would never find him. Then, there would be random flashes where she would see Raoul happily married to another girl, and Erik merging into the shadows, first trying to lead her away from her personal hell, the unending darkness, then disappearing. These dreams were disturbing to her for many reasons. The main being that Raoul glowed with a golden light, and Erik always faded into the black gloom after she glimpsed him in her dream. She woke up panting for breathe,her blankets twisted round her and the pillows all on the floor. But then she glimpsed out the window and was comforted with the sight of the weak sun rising over the horizon, and was finally able to sleep peacefully.
~~~~~~~~~~~~One Week Later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"You, little toad, don't try to take my limelight at da performance or any other. Do you get?" Carlotta was powdering her face in front of a large and sparkling mirror, and her threat was made less scary from her heavy accent. "Yes, Madame Diva." The younger soprano said sweetly, and the older smiled at her as she left. It was only after Christine had left her rival's dressing room when Carlotta shouted, "You do not call me diva!", and the brunette continued on her way, a slight smile on her face.
After Christine had been dressed and made up, she stood on the corner of the stage, where the audience could not see her, but she could view them. The managers had decided that the singers would wear one dress for the whole performance. The benefit to that was that Christine's dress was given lots of attention and detail, and she felt more beautiful than ever in it. The skirt was a magnificent dark green, and there was a train that fell to the floor in silky billows. The rest was made from a light golden silk, and the neckline was low and heart shaped, with nothing covering her arms but a bit of shimmering lace. Pearl drops fell from her ears, and her throat was bare, which just made it look all the more white and appealing. The costume managers had pinned the front of her curls up in intricate braids, and weaved strands of gold and pearls through them, and her reddish brown mane fell down her back and greatly contrasted with the pale gold of the top of her gown. She was even wearing make-up, gold shimmer covered her lids and cheeks, and a soft pink color coated her lips. Christine was thinking about whether Raoul would appreciate her appearance when Carlotta came on stage to sing the opening song. She was dressed in a rich purple gown that had fox fur and white silk for trimming, and her neck and head was covered in shining diamonds. Her gown was just as intricate and expensive as the diva's, but Christine was dressed with simple accessories and a coat of innocence while Carlotta was given leave to do the opposite.
It all went back to how the managers wanted the three exclusive performances they were doing to again gain the interest and awe of the wealthy citizens of Paris. And so they had two very different sopranos singing, one the famed Diva who seemed to own the Populaire's stage, and the other; a timid but already well-known star who was the object of the infamous Opera Ghost's desire. What could be a better publicity stunt then having two stars, two ballets, and the invisible presence of a ghost in one setting?
Carlotta finished her opening song and gave a wave to the distinguished audience, and the first ballet started. Christine was still in her perch on the side stage, but she was watching her fiancée with wide eyes, and not the dance. Raoul was in Erik's box, and he was leaning back while his eyes roved around the stage and in the ceiling. What is he looking for? She wondered to herself, and turned her attention to her friend Meg, who was expertly pirouetting around the stage, a serene smile on her face. Meg looked quite stunning, her gold hair swept up and her coveted figure exposed in the sheer and flowing white dress she was adorned in. If only I could be so graceful. Christine thought. She was still so glad her friend had became the lead ballerina. The singer knew Meg was the best dancer in Paris, and was smiling to herself about it when she took her entrance on the stage. She saw Raoul's eyes widen with pleasure at the sight of her, and noticed the rest of the audience do the that same when she opened her mouth and sang.
All the sorrow she had experienced her whole life faded away. Everything was lost to her except the sound of her voice, and that of the magical music that accompanied her. She could almost feel the music swirl around her, and couldn't help but sway a little with her song. Then an even greater feeling overtook Christine, and she raised her face and hands toward the ceiling and sang with more passion and feeling then she knew she possessed. She knew the Angel was watching, and that his anger must have faded the moment he saw her onstage.
The whole week she had been rehearsing Erik had ignored her, and Raoul had been gone. Meg and her mother were swamped with the two ballets, and the sixteen year old had felt terribly lonely. She had been left alone without her Angel before, but the terrible anguish she always felt during these times was lessened by the presence of others. So she had thrown herself into learning her three songs, and was now rewarded with the loving presence of the Angel of Music.
When Christine finished her first song, the crowd stood up on their feet and applauded with shouts and cheers. A few threw flowers unto the stage, and Christine spent a minute smiling to the delighted audience and picking up a white bloom before going back to her nook in the corner. Then Carlotta took the stage after a viscous glare to her rival, the beaming girl with the voice of a siren. While the Diva sang, the managers hurried over to Christine and babbled, "We've had a change of plans! You shall sing "Think of Me" as the finale. The audience loves you! We must say, you certainly have improved since rehearsals. Is there any special reasons of why you are glowing, little ingénue?" Christine found that she disliked it when people referred to themselves as "we", but shook her head and smiled, saying, "No, I simply...feel the music!" The managers nodded and hurried off to their next destination, after they had explained how the schedule had changed.
So Christine sat back and enjoyed watching the diva sing and her friend dance her solo, and basked in the secret presence of Erik. She was not afraid like before; because it felt like the loving angel of her childhood was watching her, and not the masked murderer who had emerged these last few months. Her second song was even lovelier than before, and the cheers louder and more flowers floated to the stage. Carlotta sang the rest of her songs, and Christine at last entered the stage to sing the grand finale. There was some wealthy audience members who had been to Christine's debut, and thought they knew how she would sound. But they were given a beautiful surprise when she opened her mouth and sang with a voice even purer than before. And at the end, Christine sang a new cadenza, so her voice brought forth rich low notes and soured to the heavens with her final "Me!"
Everyone jumped to their feet and applauded and shouted till their hands and throats hurt, and the stage was covered in flowers of every color and smell that Christine could imagine. But her face remained distant to those that knew her, and they pondered about the way she stared up at the ceiling. When the shower of blooms ended at last, a final flower wafted down to her feet. A red rose tied with a black ribbon. This at last brought forth the bright smile of the now celebrated singer, and she offered shy waves to the audience before heading off the stage.
The other two performances went just as well as the first, and by the end of the week, the Opera Populaire was the subject of everyone's conversation. Those who had wealthy enough to go to the luxe show raved about the beauty of the youngest singer, and talked about the general splendor they had seen. There was buzz on the gorgeous, new leading ballerina, and on the aging diva, who still was able to provide an entertaining show. The Masquerade that was coming up in two weeks was the next "it" occasion and everyone was fussing about their costumes, making sure it followed the theme of gold, black, silver and white, and telling their less fortunate friends about how the ball would be the party of the century.
"Christine!" Meg cried and twirled in her new white dress. "What do you think?" Christine pretended to think deeply, then laughed and beamed, "It's glorious! Meg, you shall be the most attractive angel in the history of angels!" She crossed her fingers after her last sentence, because an image of her elusive Angel with his snowy mask and dashing figure popped into her head. "Really, that is so pretty..." She touched the smooth layered silk of the bodice and then the fluffy feathers on the little wings.
"Thank you. I am just glad that the managers told us to spare no expense!" Meg laughed, then was helped out of her new gown. The two friends were at their final fitting at a high-end dress-maker's store, and had kept the identity of their costumes secret till the night before the party, which was that very day. Meg was ushered out of the room while Christine was laced into her dress, and once the ballerina got the word, she hurried into the changing room to see her friend. "Are you a rose? Regardless, you look heavenly!" She squealed, then narrowed her eyes with sudden curiosity. "Your dress is pink, so it's not following the theme. I don't understand..." Christine looked down at her lacy pink gown, with its off-the-shoulder sleeves, silk roses,l ow-cut neckline and train.
And she remembered the last performance she had sang last month, where after the shower of admirers' flowers, her Angel's signature rose floated down to her feet, bearing a small note, which said, "Do not wear what he wants." She had puzzled over the note for many nights, and understanding had only dawned when Raoul had suggested that they go to the masquerade dressed with a couple's theme, like Romeo and Juliet, or something similar. So she had politely refused, and sent him on his way for the rest of the day to work things out in her very confused mind. Her phantom had been ignoring her for the past month, his only attention the single rose after every performance. And since there had only been three shows, so she had just three roses and one very lonely soul. So desperate was she for his loving attention yet again, she complied to his demand and told Raoul that her costume was to be a surprise.
Which led back to how she was wearing a pink ball gown with a luxurious bustle of cream and pink roses for a party that had a theme involving very different colors. Christine still didn't understand Erik's demand; since she had figured out that it was he who had provided the theme, music and dance for the entertainment, but when she returned to her room later that night, she found a set of creamy leather gloves with delicate lacing up the sides that would go perfectly with her dress. After exclaiming over the pretty gloves, the young soprano headed to bed and slept deeply. She had avoided her curious friend's questions to the best of her extent, but after eating lunch and the long ride back to the opera house with Meg, Christine had been drained of all energy from lying so much.
The morning of the masquerade dawned bright and clear, and was almost warm, which was surprising, given that it was new year's. Christine woke late, feeling refreshed and excited, and ate a leisurely breakfast before heading back up to her room to prepare for the ball. It would begin at the early nightfall, due to the short days of winter. While she got out her dress, Christine thought back upon Christmas, which had been a very awkward affair. Usually, she stayed with the Girys, and returned to the opera house to find an especially exquisite rose or a song from her angel. This year, she had visited Raoul's family, who welcomed her with wide arms. Well, everyone except the spiteful Adellyn, who had glared at the girl all night. Christine remembered who she had longed to be at the Girys' warm house that night, instead of trying to fit in at her fianceé's home. Raoul had not even noticed his love's discomfort, and promised an even grander holiday the next year. I suppose it won't be so bad once I'm his wife... she mused, and put on the necessary underthings for her costume. The worst thing about that night was to return to the opera and find that my angel had ignored me, she decided, then heard Meg say, "Christine! I'm here!" The singer pulled herself out of her musings and threw on her dressing gown over her fiery red underthings, which were necessary for creating the color effect of her rose-pink gown, and opened the door to her friend, who was also in a lacy dressing gown and holding the rest of her costume in her arms.The girls laughed at their silly appearances, and spent the rest of the day primping and preparing.
~~~~~~~~~Dusk~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Christine! You look beautiful!" Raoul De Chagny gasped and ran forward to take his love into his arms. Then he held her at arms length and carefully appraised her costume. "An apparition in pink...you have me stumped, darling...are you a goddess of love, perhaps?" His long golden hair was pulled back into an unfortunate ponytail, but other then that, Christine found her sweetheart's Russian solider costume to be quite dashing.
She playfully tapped his nose and said, "No, I am a pink rose!" He laughed, still looking at her exposed cleavage, and pulled her outside of the opera house. Most of of the guests had yet to arrive, and the sky still had a glimmer of dark pinks and blues to it, making a very lovely twilight. Employees of the Populaire were scurrying around the perimeter and lighting candles and sweeping, to ensure that the appearance of the grand theater was perfect. No one paid any attention to an excited Vicomte leading his girl to the top of the steps. "Christine, I proposed to you nearly three months ago, and yet you wear no ring." His voice was quite solemn, but Christine laughed gaily and took his hand up to her throat. She was wearing a very thin gold chain around her neck, with an elegant red rose ring nestled atop her breasts. "Okay, I see you wear a ring...were did you get this, the stone and engraved ribbon are extraordinary!" The rose had a little ruby in the center, and the curling gold leaves and tiny black ribbon looked quite lifelike. Christine instantly regretted showing Raoul the band, and gently took his hand off her neck and ring. She then put her own hands protectively over the jewel, and explained, "The ruby is just glass, the band is only gold plated. I got with Meg, to help make my costume easier to guess, understand? Rose ring, rose dress?" She took her hands down to her sides to show him the silk rose on her side, then brought them up to her curls,which had pink ribbons and tiny buds weaved into the intricate braids. He nodded quizzically, then said, "Oh never mind, we got off topic. I brought you out here to have this."
From within his black pocket, he brought out a little velvet box, and opened it, showing her a grand ring. It had a thick white-gold band and a huge, oval-shaped blue diamond, which was surrounded by smaller white diamonds. "Oh, Raoul, it's lovely!" She unfastened her necklace and slid the rose ring into a concealed pocket in her dress, then pulled her curls aside so that he could put his ring unto her chain and secure it. He had watched her silently the whole time, then said in a quiet whisper, "Christine, I thought that we would announce our engagement at the party tonight." Then the hurt Vicomte took her left hand and attempted to slip the ring on her finger. But she pulled away, and said, "No, sweet. I'm still not ready. Come, let us go inside, everyone is arriving. We can discuss this in private." The guests were now daintily stepping out of their carriages, and the two lovers looked up at the darkened sky in surprise. The sun had completely set on them, and fireworks were just starting to explode grandly into the air. Raoul let himself be led into the opera house and into a back passage near the great hall.
"Only you hold my heart." The young singer said simply, then took the ring from his hands and fastened the chain herself. He watched and didn't say a word for a few moments, then smiled and kissed her hand. "As long as I have you. I suppose the public can wait for the announcement." They shared a sweet smile of understanding, then Raoul commenced, "Let's join the party!" She nodded, then said, " Where is your mask, soldier?" Raoul asked her the same question as a response, and she pulled it from a clever string on the side of her dress. "I seem to have left mine in the cloakroom..." He whispered and twirled her ring round the chain, then drew her out of their hidden passage to a wider hall.
"The rule for me is to not wear my mask for most of this party. The managers want my face to be seen, and they are asking the same for all of the leading performers so we can be recognized. Quite silly, don't you think?", she asked and gave a little silly smile to him. "No, your face is too lovely to hide behind a mask!" Raoul answered and gave a polite bow to his date and continued to pull her nearer to the ball.
Christine couldn't help but delightedly whisper, "Look, your future bride!" She brought her hands up and felt the large stone. "Oh, but why is it secret?" Raoul then couldn't hold back. "Why are we still hiding it, Christine?" He turned her to face him, and gently held her gloved hands. She gave a small smile at his sweet gesture, and he seemed to take that as a permission to give her a kiss.
As he leaned his face towards her, Christine worriedly gasped, "No, Raoul, they'll see!" It was true, they were now in partial view of the party, standing at the end of the illuminated hall. "Let them see!" He cried, then in a softer voice, "It is an engagement, not a crime." She continued to stare up at his face with worried eyes and an expression very similar to the one she had worn on the roof three months ago, and so he charmingly murmured, "Christine, what are you afraid of?" Her face softened, and a light smile returned as she replied,"Let's not argue. You'll understand in time!"
Christine was amazed at the splendor she saw. The color theme had been followed to the tee, and everyone was wearing exquisite costumes of gold,black,white and silver. The effect was breathtaking, as people spun about in the light of thousands of gold candles. Christine had even spied some of the more attractive Populaire dancers who had been painted gold and given candelabras to be life-sized candle holders. She saw all her friends, the managers and even her nemesis, and smiled delightedly to all, and they all returned her grin; even Carlotta, though her smile was small to the younger diva. The festive air of the masquerade had taken control of all.
The soprano then returned her gaze to her dance partner, and saw his expression of great love. They continued to dance, and Christine kept her eyes to him, as magical music filled their ears. It was all surreal to the young singer. Her Vicomte twirled her around, and she felt her long skirts fan out behind her and unto the highly polished floor, though she never broke eye contact with Raoul to see the effect. He seemed to radiate love, and with the lilting music in the background, made Christine feel as giddy as the other dancing couples, though she hadn't had a sip of champagne, like they had. When the music reached a grand crescendo, Raoul spun Christine, then pulled her closer in his arms and they ceased their dance. He dropped his face to hers, and they shared a long and breathy kiss. The atmosphere was too charming, the music too powerful, and Raoul too loving for her to resist that sweet temptation. When they pulled apart, everyone had abandoned the center floor, where they were standing, and Christine turned her blushing face to the stairs.
The main entertainment for the night was arranged atop, and they all held a fan in each hand, their full voices proclaiming, "Masquerade! Paper faces on parade! Masquerade, hide your face so the world will never find you!" With each drum clash, the dancers would turn with their fans, and from Christine's viewpoint, she could almost imagine them being the drums. Gold confetti showered upon the graceful performers, and the couple shared a delighted smile before turning back to the stairs. "Masquerade! Every face a different shade, masquerade, there's another mask behind you!"
By now, even the wealthiest guest attending the ball couldn't help give a pleased grin, and those who normally worked at the Populaire (but weren't performing) were all singing along to the catchy tune and tapping their feet. Christine gave another excited laugh and swayed as the dancers finished, "Masquerade! Burning glances, turning heads...masquerade, stop and stare at the sea of smiles around you! Masquerade, grinning yellows, spinning reds. Masquerade, take your fill and let the spectacle astound yo-" But the crew gasped and never got to finish their song as all the lights suddenly dimmed and the showers of gold confetti increased and nearly blocked the stairs from Christine's view. When the shower ended, she saw the reason for the shocked silence.
The Phantom of the Opera stood poised atop the stairs. He was striking in his form-fitting suit of fiery red with details of gold and black, but more menacing, as he portrayed "Red Death". His mask was white with dark circles around the eyes and red streaks slashing across the snowy interior. Everyone first gathered closer to the stairs as he surveyed his ball, then they all quickly backed away as he began to descend downward. With his shoulders thrown back and his head held high, the ghost mockingly began to sing, "Why so silent good messieurs? Did you think I had left you for good?" His cloak trailed behind, looking like liquid fire to Christine. While all the drama unrolled,Christine had fixed her eyes upon the composer, and would look no where else. She felt a mixture of dread, fear and strange exhilaration. She did not even notice Raoul protectively pull her closer and glare at the masked ghost. Erik confidently strode down further and continued,"Have you missed me, good messieurs? I have written you an opera; here I bring the finished score. Don Juan Triumphant!" In one fluid motion, he withdrew a leather folder and threw it on the steps, then unsheathed a shining sword from his side.
"Fondest greetings to you all. A few instructions before rehearsals start." He was nearly down the stairs as he twirled the blade in his hands and commenced with his insulting demands to the Opera Populaire performers. He would occasionally gesture to his victims with the lade and would smirk at their frightened and indignant faces. While he did this, Raoul glanced around the room, then gave Christine's shoulder a squeezed before running off. She paid him no heed, and continued to stare at the Phantom. He had just finished giving insults to the managers and had sheathed the dangerous sword while turning to her. "As for our star, Miss Christine Daae."
The young singer had quickly glanced at the ground when she heard her name, and cautiously brought her eyes up as the ghost gazed at all the bystanders while singing, "No doubt she'll do her best, it's true, her voice is good, she knows, though should she wish to excel,she has much still to learn, if pride will let her return to me, her teacher. Her teacher..." As he made his plea, his gloved hands rose into the air ad later gestured to himself, and his voice dropped as he descended more stairs to reach his singer.
Christine's wide eyes felt teary as she looked at her angel. She hadn't seen him for months, hadn't heard his voice since the beginning of the previous month, hadn't felt his touch since that ill-fated dinner he had forced her attend. The world faded as the two looked at each other, both sets of eyes begging for forgiveness and understanding. Christine felt an odd mix of pity and ill-foreboding at that moment, but it was over-shadowed by her queer desire for the unknown mystery of the Phantom and of the comforting love of her fatherly Angel. A faint and hopeful smile settled on Christine's face as she timidly began to approach Erik, and her breathing became as ragged as his. He met her halfway, and they stared into each other as the gap between them faded. Then his eyes traveled down her face and to her throat, and the open looks he had given her faded. His hand gently went over her breasts, then he maliciously tore off the thin necklace that held her secret engagement ring. She gasped as he spat, "Your chains are still mine!"
The tender moment forever ruined, he spoke in a passionate, primal voice, "You belong to me!" Then he left the startled and suddenly afraid girl and rain up to the center were the two staircases met. With a deadly twirl of his red cape, bursts of flame lept from the floor, and when they faded, the Phantom was gone. To add to Christine's fear, and the crowd's shocked excitement, Raoul, the respected and beloved Vicomte De Chagny, suddenly ran down the stairs and into the smoking hole, brandishing a sword.
"No!" Christine cried, but her plea fell to silent ears as the managers scurried to the top of the stairs and gave a hasty explanation that it had all been a part of the entertainment. The musicians began to play again, and champagne was passed out to everyone as the party started over. Christine stared the crowd with horror that they could believe such blatant lies, and was greatly relieved when Mme Giry came over to her and led her away from the once again festive party.
"Stay here, dear. Don't worry, he shall be fine." The aging ballerina handed her a glass of water and hurried down the darkened hall, her oriental dress silently waving behind her. Christine chugged the water and wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. Minutes seemed to go by, and Mme Giry hadn't returned. The singer nervously twisted her fingers and brought her hands up to where her engagement ring had been. "I only had it for about twenty minutes..." She mused to herself and was startled when Meg found her in little nook she had been hiding in. "Christine, are you alright? I looked for you after...ah..the ghost left, but you were nowhere to be found! And Raoul..." The kindly blond picked up her snowy skirts and tired to squeezed into the space next to her friend, but Christine held up a white hand and said, "Meg, I am fine. Just a little startled. Raoul shall be alright, too. Go back to the ball, I'm sure you left some poor heartbroken man out there, didn't you?"
Meg smiled mischievously and toyed with a puffy white feather attached to her bodice. "If you say all is well. Can I convince you to join me?" Christine shook her head with a soft smile and nearly shoved Meg out of the hall and back into the golden glow of the party. She heard Meg's low laugh at her friend's antics, then the lower chuckle of a gentlemen after he reclaimed his missing angel. The rose that was left behind gave a wistful, but still glad, smile at her friend's happiness, and was debating on what to do; turn into her room for the night, head out to the party, or conduct her own search for Raoul.
"Christine, Christine..." Her turmoil ceased when her father's voice called out to her from the darkened end of the hall. He continued to gently say her name till Christine took a timid step into the dark. "Come, little Lotte, don't be shy." The kind voice of Gustave Daae continued to persuade the girl until she was at the end of the walk, completely submerged in darkness. "Daddy?" She whispered into the hot air, and felt for the handle of the door that the hall had led her to. "Yes, princess, open the door." He urged, and the door popped open, leading her into even more darkness. The voice of the deceased violinist faded into nothing, and Christine was left alone in a foreign hall. "I am such a fool!", she hissed to herself and tried to discern which way lead back to the shining light of the party.
"Christine! Oh, my child, there you are!" The voice that followed was soft and relieved, in a high female pitch. "Follow me!" It was the voice of Christine's aunt, the kind woman who had died when she was four. "Auntie?" The girl asked suspiciously, but after a few moments of the tender woman speaking, Christine once again fell under the spell and followed the direction of the comforting voice. She was again at the end of the hall when her aunt left her. "Am I mad?" Christine asked herself when she felt the wall to feel another door. She opened it and was met with more pitch black. "I hear voices of the deceased, and I shouldn't, no matter how wonderful-" Her rambling ceased when yet another beloved voice urged her down the hall, " Christine! Here, walk to the sound of my voice!" It was Raoul! Christine gasped and picked up her skirts. At last, a voice from the living! "Raoul!" She cried, and nearly ran into the end of the last hall. Thankfully, her skirts brushed against it just in time, and she flung her hands out in front of herself. The air had steadily gotten cooler, and the door which Christine blindly tapped chilled her hands. "Raoul?" She repeated, and received no answer. It was as silent as the grave as Christine felt for the door nob and let herself in to the room. Instead of just meeting cold darkness, she saw a dim, flickering light in the distance.
"Come to me, Angel!" The shadows around the light spoke with the voice of the man she once knew as the Angel of Music. She stopped dead in her tracks and gazed fearfully at the tiny light in the distance. Understanding dawned upon the tricked girl. "You lured me down here with the voices of my loved ones!" The soprano turned her head back to the way she had came and saw only darkness. She looked back towards the faint light and hissed, "Now the only way I can go back is through you!" The light completely vanished from her sights, and she gasped in unrestrained terror. What have I done? I have angered the only man who could take me out of here! She thought and wrapped her arms round herself. It was so dark that Christine couldn't tell when she closed her eyes or opened them.
But when Erik spoke again, his voice was forgiving and almost chiding as he said, "Angel, I give you one more chance. Come to me." And Christine remembered the night when she had refused the Angel and had gone to dinner with Raoul. When she had returned after that unpleasant evening, the Phantom had said, "I will give you one last chance and you will not refuse me." So this was the final chance. Christine bit her lip and thought for a few moments. She was in the power of the man who had terrorized the whole opera house that night, the man who had just stolen her engagement ring! But he was capable of great kindness and understanding, and she also knew that she wouldn't be able to find her way back to the world of light by herself. All of this played a part when she answered, "Erik, help me."
The world seemed to pause for a moment, then a candle seemed to appear and sparked to life ten feet in front of Christine. Once she reached it, another lit ten feet away. And so she continued her way, being led by miraculously lighting candles and the faint sound of the Angel humming in the distance. Christine's coherent thoughts faded as she took on a dreamlike state and followed the light. It was almost like she was sleepwalking as her head craned forward to the magical voice and her hands reached for the candles that were always out of her reach.
When she was all but asleep and walking, the light went out with a great hiss. Christine was startled into an almost sane sense of mind, but the sweet fumes wafting from the distant candle made Christine feel dreamy yet again. The darkness did not scare her as it had before, and she stood patiently, waiting for the next candle to lite itself. Suddenly, a colorful light burned into Christine's now sensitive eyes. A great wall of stained glass stood in front of her. She could see the hundreds of flickering candles behind the thin glass, but her muddled mind could only take in the beauty of the majestic wall. It depicted a vast forest going from night to day. The left side showed stars and slumbering animals, and the right slowly faded into a clear morning, with a soft blue sky and golden sun. It was all greatly detailed, and the only thing that kept it from looking too realistic was the ever-changing colors of the glass before her. When she could speak, she breathed, "Where have you brought me?"
Standing in the dim shadow of the great wall, she did not see Erik approach her from behind. Suddenly, Christine felt cool hands along her waist, and she woke up enough to gasp and try to flinch away from the suddenly strong arms clasped around her. "Erik?" She asked and slightly turned her head. It was the Phantom, though he looked completely different then how she had ever seen him. On his face was a mask of dark, shining midnight blue, cut in the same style as the Red Death mask he had worn earlier that evening, which seemed like a lifetime ago to Christine. He released her, and she took in his strangely glorious outfit.
The clothes he wore seemed to be exactly the ones he had worn at the ball, but they were dark blue, not red. His cloak shimmered like the night sky, not like deadly flames. He gave an amused smile and gestured to Christine. She looked down at herself, and saw that her once pink gown now appeared the same midnight blue as Erik's clothes. Her white gloves shone silver, and the pink roses lining her sleeves looked white. Her eyes widened when the Angel stepped forward and pushed on a section of stained glass. It gave way, and Christine saw that it was yet another door. Only instead of having to venture in alone, like before, the Phantom reached behind and gently pulled her in with him.
The strange, sweet smell of the candles that had helped her earlier filled her nose, and she inhaled the heady scent as she took in her surroundings. It was the same little underground garden that Erik had taken her in before, on that fateful night when he had forbade her to eat with Raoul. But she could not remember any of that as she slowly looked at it's forbidden beauty. The wall of stained glass shone on her as she tried to settle on a stack of silken pillows. The garden area was much darker than it had been before, with only the light of the candles in front of the wall. All the other candelabras stood empty, and every thing was either bathed in shadows or in the dim, but colorful light of the glass. She again tried to get comfortable on the stack of pillows and rugs, but found that her skirt's bustle of roses would always get in the way. She laughed a little at her silliness, but grew silent when Erik approached her. Her ran a silver-gloved hand down her face and neck, tapped her collarbone and slowly moved down her shoulder till he held just her hand. Christine vaguely remembered earlier that evening,and of how she had been terrified of the masked genius. Now, she only felt awe at the surrounding beauty, and peace and calm happiness. Everything was veiled in blue to her dreamy eyes, and she turned her face from a distant fountain and back to the Phantom, who had been watching her carefully. She brought her other hand up, and trailed it down the side of his face and beyond, till it rested on his chest, and gave him a thoughtful look.
"Does this please you?" He asked, his hand still grasping hers, and her other hand still perched on his chest. "Everything pleases me..." She sighed and closed her eyes. When she opened them, everything still seemed to be covered in moonlight, though somewhere in the back of her mind, she still knew that they were underground. Christine dropped one hand from his chest and pulled the other free of his grasp slowly. She looked longingly at the stack of pillows and rugs, then began to work at the hidden latches on the back of her skirt. Erik looked at her quizzically, but she just gave him a sleepy smile. When her mission was accomplished, she stood before him in a puffy red underskirt with lace lining, and a sheer cream material coating the top. "Christine!" he gasped in surprise as she stepped out of the outer skirt that had gathered at her feet, the rose bustles reaching her knees from the floor. The underthings had been effected by the blue spell, as well, Christine noticed, as they shine silver and blue instead of the original pinks and reds. Then she stretched like a cat and laid down on the stack of rugs. "Now I can relax," she sighed and arranged a pillow to her liking, looking rakish and charming and clad only in her underskirts. "My goddess!" Erik cried suddenly, and hurried off somewhere. Christine didn't mind being left alone. The shadows that played around her face were comforting and everything was so peaceful, so surreal.
When he returned, the Phantom carried the supplies necessary for painting. The singer blinked sleepily at the sight of the masked man twirling his shimmering midnight cape with a flourish while setting down the easel. "I shall paint you, "he explained, and Christine nodded, her eyes half closed. "Wait, one last thing." He came up to the lounging singer and slowly lifted her right hand up, and began to take off the leather and lace glove. When he finished with that hand, he gave each finger the softest kiss, then did the same for the left. Christine vaguely remembered feeling repulsion for Erik not many hours ago, but now his touch brought only pleasure and added to the feeling of peace she felt. Once he arranged her hands to his liking, he went to his easel and began to paint. How lovely, that he is painting me. She thought dreamily and breathed in the sweet scent of the candles near the stained glass before falling asleep.
"Christine! Darling!" Bright lights and loud voices woke Christine. She slowly opened her eyes to see the anxious face of Raoul De Chagny inches above her. "Wha-?" She began to ask, but he gently hushed her and gave her a glass of water. Christine realized that she was leaning in a chair, and that Raoul was holding her up. She was in a darkened hall just outside the grand foyer of the opera house. From what she could see of the bright area in the distance; people were still partying and drinking, though it was considerably less populated then when she had left. She was in the very same hall that Mme Giry had put her in after Raoul disappeared, chasing the Phantom of the Opera. The shocked singer cautiously felt her gown while noticing that her gloves were on, and saw that it was the rose costume, her heavy skirts intact, the rightful color restored from blue to soft pink. "It was all just a dream..." she muttered to herself, and felt a great sense of relief and loss.
"What was just a dream?" Meg appeared next to Raoul, her white angel's halo a little askew. Christine just shook her head a little and drank the water that Raoul offered. Mme Giry appeared next, and gravely said, "We have all had much excitement tonight. I think it would be best if Christine retired for her room now." Christine nodded weakly and accepted Raoul's help to stand.
She nodded goodnight to the ballet mistress and her daughter, then slowly walked toward her room with Raoul. "When did you return?," she finally asked, to end the silence. "A few minutes ago," he answered, then continued, "I have learned the past of the opera ghost. The kind Madame told me after she saved me from one of his traps. Then I returned to the masquerade, to find that you were missing. I sought out Meg, and she told me you were resting out in a hidden hall. That is were I found you, draped upon that chair most uncomfortably. I was quite worried." He smiled fondly as they reached her door. "Goodnight, Raoul." Christine sighed, and gave him a chaste kiss on the check. He leaned down and gave her one as well, and as he straightened up, and said, "You smell different, Lotte. You normally smell of roses. Now you smell even sweeter, of a new and foreign kind of smell that I find intoxicating." The Vicomte gave one last look towards his tired love, then returned to go say his goodbyes at the party.
Christine entered her room and groaned wearily. She began to change out of her gown, and caught of a whiff of her own scent. It was sweet, like the smell of the candles in her dream. She sniffed her skirts, and got another smell of the sweet scent, and it made her feel light-headed. "Oh my," she muttered, then continued to prepare for her much-needed slumber. When she was at last in her night gown, she carefully picked up the outer skirt and draped in its designated spot. After she did that, she headed back to her vanity, and saw that a piece of cloth had fallen upon the floor. It was a section of midnight blue silk, smelling strongly of the strangely sweet candles she had just dreamt about. "Was it really just a dream?"