Wow, you guys are just awesome :D Six reviews! The most I've ever gotten in such a short period of time! Thank you TNP and Kitkat :D my lovely readers! As a memento of thanks I decided to upload the next chapter early, as much as I wanted to go study haha I am such a slacker.
Chapter Five
ラヴィアンローズ
艶やかに君を彩りたい
唇に濡れた一輪のバラで
もうその愛に毒味はいらない
青く染まれラヴィアンローズ
La vie en Rose*
I would like to stain you bewitchingly
With one flower of rose moistened by lips
This love does not need a poison tasting anymore
Stained blue La vie en Rose
-KAMIJO, Louis~Enketsu no La vie en Rose
Raoul paced about the hotel room he had been left sleeping in, fingering the gun that had been placed in his possessions again. Whoever that man had been, he certainly had a score to settle with the Phantom. Whatever arguments the man had with the man of mystery was certainly of no concern to Raoul himself, however he concerned himself with the fact that his potential fiancée was in the hands of that monster. He let out a low growl, his jaw set determinedly. Pacing the floor like a madman, he thought to himself.
Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, he could hear Christine's angelic song again…
~X~
Lyrics roiling in his mind, a body succumbing to desire, it was all that he lived with in the days following Christine's supposed leaving.
This melody, which flows through icy white skin,
My body cannot forget for a moment about you.
With you my life is the color of roses,
The bewitching color that you are in my mind,
The poison betrays this love that I want…
I am but a visage walking alone.
Even if destiny does not unwind itself
Memories of you cannot fade.
I want to see your awakening…
The song he had penned for her lay in his folder that he placed at his side, in a saddlebag. As the horses trotted obediently, he longed to give the song to her. In his mind, he wondered so about the reason for which she came back. Mustering up his courage, he asked her as such. Never could he have imagined her laugh, gaily ringing through the woods.
"It was simple, Erik, I left to pacify my childhood friend. I never had any intention of marrying him even. From the day I found you as my angel, I loved you. Whatever memories I had of Raoul and I as childhood sweethearts are just that, memories. The fantasies of marriage, and an opulent lifestyle…was my childish heart thinking it to be the best for myself."
Erik choked back his words at the simple reply, pure and sweet. He had hoped that her reason was pity or empathy, and then it would have been so much easier to turn her away! But seeing this woman beside him, as they slowly crossed into the wild lands of Austria stirred hope and feelings in his heart, and his dreams…would they take flight, after a few months with her? Could he hope and dare to dream? He intended to ask her the most important question soon, before their world could perhaps crash down upon them again. But as of now, he would bide his time and wait, almost like a predator stalking its prey. How much it mirrored his cursed opera, the opening lines that that fat buffoon of a Piangi had massacred with his voice! He cringed inwardly hearing the fat lead sing his lines he had hoped to sing with Christine, and remembering her shocked face as he had stepped on the stage to sing with her. And then he remembered the unmasking. The hands rose to the levels of their eyes, shielding themselves from the horror that was he and he alone. His rash actions as he kicked the trapdoor and they had fallen, fallen through fire and brimstone and made it out alive. A trial of fire, and they had been alive. It was as Christine had sung in the alcove to Raoul. And perhaps, it was the truth that by living anew in this country, which they now arrived in, he had left his demons behind. He dismounted at a ramshackle inn, motioning for Christine to do the same. She complied willingly, gracefully dismounting. In the months they had ridden, she had learnt to make her mounting and dismounting a graceful affair altogether. He had chosen this inn, hoping it was out of the way, enough for people not to notice them. A skinny man and his wife sat at the counter, their faces jolly. They quickly established the fact that they were Christians of the same God as Christine, and displayed warm hospitality to the duo, ushering them into a room that was fairly spacious and airy. Christine smiled at them, thanking the woman as she exited. It was then she realized what the room contained.
A single queen sized bed was situated in the middle of the room. Color rushed to her cheeks as she realized how their sleeping arrangement was to be that night. Erik had seemed to have noticed the bed also, and was telling her how he would sleep on the floor that night. Looking down at her feet, Christine frowned. As much as the kindly couple had done much in the bedding and general upkeep of their rooms, the floor left much to be desired for, coated in a layer of dust and grime. It was hardly a place befitting Erik, keeping in mind the fact that he was a Comte! As much as Christine had tried to forget, she never could brush aside the fact that he was pretty much royalty, and if he were to claim the rightful title all his past deeds would be erased in the record books of pen and paper. She made a sound in disagreement to it, and he looked at her in puzzlement. Surely, he said, you do not mean to sleep on the floor, for it was hardly suited to a lady like her. Acknowledging, she motioned that they should share a bed, after all, they had somewhat done so in the woods every time they had laid their head down to rest, had they not? Erik nodded in agreement to her statement, yet he still had a semblance of propriety that night, sleeping such that the slightest movement would cause him to tumble off the bed. Christine whereas slept soundly on her side, although before her eyes closed she continually expressed a desire to be in his arms. Finding her fast asleep and the fact that temptation was great, he finally caved in with a sigh, hearing a soft cry of pleasure spill forth from her lips as she slept in his arms. Hearing that, emotions itself surged in his heart as he laid his head down for the night.
In another room miles away, a certain Vicomte had assumed the same position as Erik as he filled his mind with the thoughts of his love curled up against that monster, he told himself, filled with disgust. His hands curled around the gun, still deliberating. Finally, he threw himself off the bed, and hurling the doors open like a madman, he headed to the bar to find that assassin. Gut feeling alone got him his quarry and his contractor. No words were needed nor exchanged, the gleam in Raoul's eyes told him yes, indefinitely.
The two men shook hands, and the deal with the Devil was made. The Angel would die.
Somehow, Christine awoke before Erik again. The nights had passed with him having the habit of wrapping her in his arms, and she felt safe there, not like when she was with Raoul. Knowing the choice she had been forced into was right, she happily drifted off back to sleep. In her dreams, the fields were a lovely, becoming shade of green, and she frolicked free with her child and Erik. Yet as she would near the edge of the fields, tombstones would pop up, and Raoul's disjointed, dismembered voice would float up and consume her... Again, she awoke, drenched in sweat and in Erik's arms. As she got closer and closer to knowing her dark Angel, the past haunted her with a vengeance. It threatened to consume her whole, to drain the very life out of her as she awoke time and again, sobbing in his arms to herself. She hid such dreams from Erik, worried that he would leave her for thinking that she still held sentiment for that boy. What could one do with posttraumatic stress? She wanted to be held tightly more than ever by Erik every time she awoke from such horrors.
"Promise me you'll never leave me like everyone else did…"she whispered, hoping to high heaven he would not hear at all. Breathing in the closeness of him, she felt relaxed, as if she had been granted some respite. Why did she still dream of such horrors? Was the ordeal by fire not enough? Did her God want to test her, to trial her strength and love to Erik? She weft her hands through his wig, tugging it off as much as she could, wanting to see his beautiful sable hair. How he could bear to hide such beauty away was still a mystery to her. Other than a fraction of his face, really, he was incomparable in beauty, much like the Norse gods of lore. She often wondered about him, and the underground cavern that she had woken up in. What was the meaning of that shell shaped bed, draped in luxuries? What was the strange sculpture at the head of the bed?
A phoenix, she suddenly thought. Why had she thought of that? She dearly wanted to ask her dark angel of his secrets, but dared not wake him from his peaceful slumber…and she did not need to. For she turned around, her head in a slight incline, to find herself gazing into his eyes of fire and passion.
"It will be alright. I promised to protect you. I couldn't leave if I wanted to. Perhaps it is the morning light that is like my night, I am used to living in the night and sleeping in the day. Perhaps my night makes me sentimental, but why is it that I find myself inexplicably drawn to you?"
"You heard what I said then, Erik?"
He nodded slightly, propping himself up into a seated position. He had slept with his regular ruffled shirt that he had worn in his lair after Don Juan Triumphant, and the fact that Christine was snuggled into his bare chest so soundly was driving him over the edge with his inner feelings for her. He still thought it best that Christine was to be left to the care of Madame Giry, and a sinner like him would never deserve her, no matter how much Christine would try and try again to wipe such disastrous thought from his mind. But he very well could not leave her, not with that woman only to care for her. He well knew that the elder Giry was out of job until the Opera Populaire could be repaired, and she still had to support her daughter singlehandedly. It was then he noticed his dark wig seated nicely in between their pillows, Christine trying to look innocent as his gaze slowly travelled there. His hand whipped up to his face instinctively. Thank goodness it was still there. He raked his hands through his own hair, his actual hair, a godforsaken reminder of his actual lineage, before rising from the bed and adjusting his wig and donning it.
"I did hear, Christine. I heard all your cries for someone. Perhaps, that is the answer to my own question. In any case," he said, as he dressed, motioning for Christine to get dressed also, "breakfast seems to be ready, judging by that smell."
Like a married couple they almost seemed, as they headed down to get the breakfast prepared by the kindly innkeepers for them, he mused. The other inhabitants of the inn had not risen, save for an old man, who sat in the corner of the room, sipping a warm cup of drink. The old man waved at them, as if to wish them good morning, before returning to his drink. Erik inclined his head slightly in a nod, returning the formalities, while Christine gave a little wave. Before them was a spread fit for a king, with freshly baked bread, eggs, and honey. Just barely in their field of vision, they could see the female innkeeper, who had introduced herself as Mrs. Hej, bringing out a fresh basket of more baked goods, along with some homemade preserves. The trio of guests tucked in heartily to the meal, thanking the innkeepers profusely. Christine made small talk with Erik, and she was sure as the sky was blue, that she had never seen him more relaxed as this, as the journey progressed and they left the dark haze of Paris and his past. Austria, she reminded herself. They were now in Austria, and she was a free woman too, free of her past. And she had her love with her. Giving silent thanks to God for the meal He had provided and for her renewed life, she sipped the last few drops of milk the innkeepers had poured for her, at ease with the world. Erik had been engaged in a conversation with the elderly man seated in the corner, on his ideals of politics and the like, especially the invading Prussians into France. Somehow, this old man had struck the nail on the head with identifying the fact that they indeed were Parisians, fleeing the country due to impending war. News of dissidents travelled far and wide, and it was easy for Erik to pick up on any news at all, whether be it legit sources or not. Upon hearing the names that the old man brought up, his ears perked up and a shadow crossed his face. Apparently there was a certain few of the nobility in the armies, one of which was a certain Vicomte de Changy, who he immensely disliked.
How was Raoul alive? Was Christine's coming to him all part of another elaborate ploy? With deadly efficiency, he politely excused himself after a few more exchanges with the man, claiming that he had urgent matters to attend to. Brusquely, he led Christine up to their room, where they packed hastily, before he spun on her. With clenched teeth, he growled at her.
"You lying Delilah!"
Christine, startled, fell on the bed with a crash.
"How long did you think you could keep up with this masquerade? As we speak, the Vicomte lives. And what's more, rumors say he is in cahoots with an assassin to come after me. Who are you, Christine? A devil, an angel, an evil creature."
Christine's eyes lighted up momentarily when she heard that Raoul lived, leading Erik to shake her like a ragdoll.
"Where do you hide the ring? Why do you persist in mocking me?"
Still, Christine remained silent, emotions barely under control. In what she presumed was a measured tone, she looked up to the man, towering over her again, finally speaking.
"I identified the body, Erik. He cannot be alive. If he is, it must be a fantastic doppelgänger. I have no ring. He never bought me another. The only ring I have is with you. The only man that holds my heart is you, Erik."
"Enough with your lies, Christine. I will get you a job at the opera or as the King's entertainer, to sing, but you will not see me again."
As he said those words, Christine looked to him, with eyes of despair and fear of being left alone again. He turned, not wanting to face her, before they headed out and on the road to Salzburg. This woman of the Devil would only tempt him again and again, and lead him to his fall. He felt her tugging on his coat, and with a soft yet menacing don't try my patience, he felt the physical burden lift itself off him, only to feel the weight of his actions on his own heart, sinking him beneath the depths of the sea of despair.
My first ever cliffie. Sorta. Now lets all chorus as Phangirls. "POOR ERIK~"
Wait, what, you want to...
/stares nervously at Punjabs
Hey hey if you kill me how're you gonna get your happy endings, eh? Wait wait wait!
/takes pillows as a buffer and sets off a pillow avalanche
Hey look! Erik body pillows!
/takes the chance with distracted Phangirls to run
As I said in my bio, I am an otaku. Lyrics in this chapter were inspired by Louis ~Enketsu no La vie En Rose~, which is a beautiful song. :D
The opening quote is also from Enketsu no La vie en Rose. La vie en Rose means life in the color of roses. Roses are black and they are also red. To me, it holds a lot of meaning as it can also be white, and roses are generally grand. Like Erik. :D