Last chapter. There will be an epilogue. I know that many of you have waited for this one. I hope that I have portrayed it well and it meets your expectations. I worked extremely hard to first compose it and then refine it. Unlike some fic writers who are poets I cannot compose lyrics that can even come close, let alone surpass the majestic songs and that ALW, Tim Rice and his associates can compose. I therefore will not even try. Therefore you are asked only to believe that this new composition that Erik creates here surpasses his old. If I were be as good as they were, you would have already heard of me as an author. This is my humble attempt portray this special day and bring it to you. Kindly give me feedback.
Chapter 48
Erik's POV
I remembered this spot from Christian's very first tour of the grounds that he had given me. A small partially ruined Roman temple graced the sight, as it had done for almost two thousand years. It provided a backdrop for the ceremony. During the middle ages it had been turned into a Christian shrine. Christian told me that this had been the very site that our mythical Roman forebear had alit from, when Caesar bid for him to hold the area for Rome. Naturally it had been dedicated to the old Roman god Apollo, who had so marked my family throughout the ages. I still did not believe the complete story, but like any good tale, a myth can be used to entertain and inspire. It provided me with inspiration in planning the ceremony. I wanted to make our festivities like none that had ever been seen.
For the past six weeks since my proposal to Christine, I had been working on a new Opera, Apollo and Daphne. I changed the story a little from the classical tale to fit our own story. In the classical story, Apollo fell for the beautiful Daphne who is repulsed by him. In desperation the god kidnapped Daphne to try to win her love. She rejected him and is later transformed into a laurel tree. In my opera, Apollo is a hideously ugly mortal man. At first the beautiful nymph Daphne is repulsed by him and in his grief Apollo turns to darkness. But Eros, feeling sorry for Apollo, finds Daphne and shoots her with an arrow. Her revulsion is transformed into devotion and she comes to love Apollo but he is gone. She looks for him everywhere until she finds him and gives him a kiss on his hideous face. Together they are transformed into the handsome god of light. Since I no longer felt compelled to force an opera to stage my productions, I did not mind playing around with the story to suit my needs. My real intent was to compose a song for our wedding that would highlight the symmetry that our two voices had always shared and convey a sense of what our union means for us to those in attendance.
In the past our music had created the bond that Christine and I shared even without the benefit of marriage. The minister would only be sanctioning our bond before God, and in the eyes of man. This song would merge our spirits in our own celestial realm, where no one but the two of us resided. It was the most beautiful composition that I had ever created. It had resided in my mind since Christine had re-emerged in my life. I had spent years composing Don Juan Triumphant but only days composing this new opera. It reflected the powerful transformation, which my now requited love, had etched into my once broken benighted soul. I wanted to share our new found sublime form of love with our closest friends and family. In this effort my fellow Frenchman, Victor Hugo, guided my hands and my intentions. In his preface to his play about Oliver Cromwell, he defined the romantic notion of the sublime as 'a combination of the grotesque and beautiful.' I could think of no better description of the union between Christine and me. To complete this romantic notion I decided that our vows would be made in the presence of nature. It helped me a great deal that Christine had once confided in me that she wanted her wedding to be performed outside.
Our small group of onlookers stood agog at the majesty of both our song and of our vows as we were joined together by the minister. Christian and Meg looked quite splendid as well. Christian was forced to sit in a wheelchair but stood up unaided to complete his vows before God and man. The grounds were magnificent. I could do no less for my Christine, if she were doomed to spend an eternity gazing upon my hideous façade; the least that I could do was surround her in all aspects of beauty, as I had always done for myself. She deemed such efforts to be unnecessary, reaffirming the notion that the mere richness of my voice and of my spirit was enough to fill hers own with tears of love, joy and awe. We had found communion as two kindred spirits who had joined in love. In keeping with the spirit of the event only a harp was heard as Christine and I walked down the aisle together hand in hand like a god and goddess in a Botticelli painting. Christian and I were both adorned in wreaths of laurel to symbolize my opera. Both Christine and Meg wore beautiful, garlands of flowers plaited through their elaborately braided hair. They were more beautiful to us than the nymphs in the classical stories. I had never seen Christine more ethereal and regal than at that moment. I was both proud and humbled that such a divine creature of light would willingly link her fate with mine.
As if it was signaling approval of our unions, nature cooperated in its fullest extent and glory creating a perfect backdrop. The sun was magnificent in the clear cerulean sky, its gentle rays caressing us like the supple hands of a lover. All traces of the earlier rain were gone leaving the sweet refreshing fragrances of purity and renewal and succulent flora. A sweet song of birds shattered the silence. Squirrels and rabbits chased one another playfully. The gentle water of the Rhine shimmered like diamonds, behind the stony altar where the minister joined us in matrimony. To hide the grotesque reality of my corpselike face, I donned a full golden mask festooned in gold filigree, accenting what physical endowments that I could offer. I knew that Christine would want to gaze upon my real face, at least as we repeated our vows. She teased that she needed to be sure that she was getting the right husband. Perhaps, in truth she needed to be sure of what she would be facing for the rest of our lives. My former threat from that time in my lair had become a seductive promise.
We warned the minister to look away for a moment as a precaution. It wouldn't do to have a poor servant of God scream during the middle of the ceremony. As it turned out, he could not resist looking, but to his credit he maintained his equanimity. When he had pronounced us as one, we exchanged a passionate kiss. I could feel my senses heighten joyfully as her lips urgently sought mine and we could feel the same jolt that we always felt; just as we did the first time, in my lair. In my previous life, I never could have imagined the sheer feeling of bliss that overwhelmed me at the thought that Christine was now mine. My mother had been wrong, for I had found a beautiful woman to love me, and to willingly stand beside me as my living bride. I replaced the mask back over my face as I proudly walked beside her like a royal couple greeting their new subjects following a coronation.
In honor of Christian and Meg's wishes, we had transformed the garden area just outside the doors into a medieval feast. We had employed a minstrel and set up a long table filled with a cornucopia of delicacies, and sat down with one another to enjoy the meal. Even Otto appeared to enjoy the day. His antipathy towards me had been blunted by my generous gift to Christian and Meg, the Chateau at Haguenau. We danced and laughed into the wee hours of the night. Towards the end of the evening I unleashed some fireworks which lit the sky in a beautiful array of colors. It was the first time in my entire existence that a feast of such a kind had been held in my honor and I was not on the outside looking in as an interloper; as I had been at the masque on that New Year's Eve when all appeared to be hopeless for me. My winter of despair had blossomed into a spring of promise. The full breadth of my altered fate unfolded its wings and let my once broken spirit soar free from the cloak of darkness which once invested it with such misery. I did not turn my back on the gentle darkness which had sustained me as friend, and protected me from discovery during my most hopeless times; only the blackness of despair which had numbed any other feeling that tried to fight its way into my broken heart and soul.
Several guests who had been invited by Christian appeared before me. They were all avid to get to know the new baron who had come to live in the old Chateau. Christian had assured me that he would only invite a few of his closest friends. Unlike my small band of loyalists, his closest friends numbered close to one hundred souls. I would guess that his more extended circle of friends might be enough to fill an opera house. I gently teased him about it, but I could understand their pull in his direction. He may not have been a natural leader for a family as dark and bloody as ours, but he still represented our best qualities to the world.
Several members of the Staatsopern board approached me cautiously and asked me if I would ever consider having the Opera perform the full composition of my new Opera. I was touched that they would do so. I wondered if they were fearful that I was the infamous specter that had until recently terrorized the Opera House in Paris. If they did think so they were too polite to mention it. They mentioned that they would give me a seat on the board of directors if I were to choose to accept it. I was pleased that they would give me the opportunity to serve in such a distinguished capacity.
My days of haunting operas and making demands were best put behind me, but since I had been exonerated there was no reason that I could not buy a box and watch Meg, Antoinette and even Christine perform should they choose to do so. I was not one of those snobby noblemen who had an issue with my wife singing in such a place. I had once existed in a much lower position as a caged circus freak. I would never forget who I was or where I came from, even if I was now deemed by the world as acceptable. I knew that the Phantom would always live inside of me; he was needed to protect me from a hostile world. But now I had assumed a new mantle of respectability. I needed to be a stalwart citizen for both my family and community. I hoped that I could learn to do so, and that the fragile peace that we had all achieved would remain stable. I did not know how fragile that peace had really been, or that there had been a figure lurking in the shadows. In the meantime I could hardly wait for our festivities to end and our wedding night to begin.
Christine's POV
As I marveled at the splendor of the wedding that Erik had planned for us, I could not help but be overwhelmed by the symbolism and by the clear homage to me that he had used to create it. He would not let me involve myself, promising me that it would be all that I wanted. He asked only that I practice the song that he had written. As the event unfolded I couldn't help but recall a long ago conversation when I had still believed him to be an angel and he told me that he would never be loved, but that I would be. In hindsight I now know that the shadow of pain that I heard in his voice was his own sadness at all that the dark hand of fate had dealt him. That same night after he vowed to me that I would never die alone and unloved, he had asked me to describe what my ideal wedding would be.
"I would love it if I could have a wedding outside where people, and animals and nature could come together with me and my husband. In Sweden we love the outdoors and I miss it. I used to play in the snow in the winter and look for gnomes and trolls under the fresh fallen snow. If it were spring or summer, I would want to stand under an azure blue sky with the noon sun over my head and walk side by side with my husband in a procession, like a god and a goddess. My hair would be braided with garlands of flowers. My husband would be my best friend and we would be surrounded by beauty and love and live in a kingdom of music and beauty. Would you help me to make such a wedding angel? Of course you will come and be there with me, promise me that you will be watching over me like my father promised me."
"Of course my child" He remarked in his beautiful voice. "The man who will win your heart will be most fortunate indeed. You will make a most radiant bride. I shall do everything in my power as your guardian angel to make that day perfect for you and that lucky boy who will one day claim you."
"Will you sprinkle angel dust on us to make us happy?" I asked him.
I heard a faint chuckle in his voice "Of course sweet child whatever you ask for. I will do whatever is in my power to make you happy on that day."
"Thank you."
I turned to my new husband and whispered "You forgot the angel dust."
He turned to me and smiled enigmatically his beautiful verdant eyes alit in emotion.
"No I didn't, just wait and see. I never break my promises to you my love."
Moments later fireworks lit the darkened sky and unleashed a myriad of beautiful hues painting the sky.
He turned to me triumphantly "See, Angel dust." He whispered to me softly so only I could hear him "I admit, you had me perplexed for a while; but then I remembered that fireworks have residue. It is the best that I could do considering that you now know that I am not really an angel; only a man who is very much in love with you."
"I think that you are both, ange. Just as I always wanted you to be. I think that even back then I knew that my husband would be you. I did not know how or when but I somehow always knew." I told him.
He looked at me and smiled "What about the boy? I thought that when you were a child that you thought about him as your handsome knight."
"Knights are a fairy tale, angels are real." I whispered squeezing his hand tightly.
He laughed "I think that you have it backwards but I will allow it to stand since I stand to benefit from your mistake."
"My love for you is no mistake Erik. It is as real as this table or that chair, or those stars in the sky." I told him.
We both looked up for a moment and he pointed one out that appeared to be twinkling "That star is very special. That one is your father looking down upon us and giving us his blessing."
I looked up at that star and smiled warmly at him "I think that you are right. I know that he would approve of you. He sent you to me in my time of greatest need."
"I hope when our brief time here on earth is done, that I can meet him up there and thank him for giving you into my care. You have made me into a better man just by loving me. You have transformed my cold and withered heart into a vibrant instrument that beats solely for you." he whispered. He took my hand "Come let us leave our guests Christian and Meg have already gone so I think that we are safe to do so as well."
I smiled "I am ready mon Coeur. I will follow you wherever you chose to lead me."
He laughed gently "Only as far as our bedchamber, for this evening at least. After that we will start exploring some of those strange new worlds where I once promised to lead you. We have a lot of ground to cover so I am anxious for our journey to begin."
That night we made love once more. I had believed that the first time that we had done so, that he had lifted my pleasure to the highest realm. I was wrong. That experience paled in comparison to the pleasures that he gave to me on that our wedding night. I am convinced on that night that our first born child was conceived; a son who we named Gustave Charles in honor of our fathers. But that night I was able to pleasure him greatly as well. I wanted to use the rest of our lives to make up for the horrors that he had endured for so long in his life. I was gratified to see that the last of the sadness that had so defined his eyes in the past had lifted leaving his eyes a soft and verdant emerald green. Happiness did much to improve his demeanor. His face once dead and terrible on his distorted side took on a healthy glow of contentment and came alive. He had become the man that he had been born to be, and not a ghost, or a Phantom, which the world had once forced him to be. We had traveled far from the two troubled souls who had fled Paris awash in pain and sorrow, and were reborn as one stronger and exuberant spirit. Love had triumphed over hate, hope over hopelessness and happiness over despair.
There will be a fairly long epilogue but I want to thank all of you here for reading.