Sigh, I think I would need to update these all faster-and I've less tine to write, my results are crap and as such, I've a lot of shit happening in my life now. I think if IF IF I don't finish this story by 5 November when my Project Work ends or something I may drop this story. I think I can write it to its finish, the thing is that I have plans for the children, but they aren't clear. And Raoul will be resolved in a few chapters or so. Although I feel like just leaving loopholes about the Baron and his children, they being minor characters and the like l0l. If I drop it-does anyone want to adopt it? I can't bear to leave it like this though...

Chapter 19

"When he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun."
― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

Christine toyed with the idea of letting the children into one of the music rooms to let them have a bit of fun. Strangely enough, even though they both had been married, the idea of children was still but a taboo in this household, owing to Erik being stubbornly held on his firm conviction that any child that he sired would have the same misfortune as him. As such, there had been no playrooms nor any room considered to be a playroom or nursery for the child. Now saddled with the two children awake, Christine didn't know what to do, in fact she found herself almost at a loss. The ideas Madame Giry had suggested as to the upbringing of these two children or even caring for them for a week brought horrified glances from Meg herself, even if she had undergone such harsh upbringing. As a mother, Madame Giry had not spared the rod and put Meg's nose to the grindstone in learning ballet, and she had suggested that Christine do something as such for the two children, even if they were but village rats. Meg had given a scandalized, reproving gasp to her mother, to which the both of them dissolved in a fit of giggles and Madame Giry had sighed, leaving Christine to her own devices. It had been only a while but the children had learnt their place with Madame Giry's heavy cane. And now that she and Meg had gone out shopping, Christine could almost yank her hair out at handling these two children. They had almost set to exploring after Madame had left, and Christine had to chase after them with bribes of candy and jujubes, which they apparently loved. Mopping her brow, she glared at them in mock ire, her lips twitching at their antics of trying to pinch each other and other childish acts.

"You know, I was really surprised to find you all here this morning," she said with a slight smile. "Where did you all come from?"

"Village," the elder one replied. She was a young girl of about twelve or thirteen by Christine's reckoning, and a pretty one at that, with large, wide eyes that were set prettily in her face, and a button nose that seemed to scream "poke me!" Her black hair fell in short, unloved strands around her face, giving her a very messy look as she grinned up at the young woman with a childish smile that would melt the coldest of hearts. "We've 'erd the tales, you see, of a ghostly music that comes from 'round here so, me little brother and I, I sez to him, let's go find it and he's like okay an we end up here trying to find it. Was it you, Madame? 'Twas such pretty music!" Christine blinked, surely they must have heard Erik playing, but where? She shook her head at the question and watched as the girl's face fell, but brightened up again. "But Miss, can ye sing?"

Christine bit her lip. Yes, she could, most definitely, but without any accompaniment of sorts... She sighed and eventually nodded, motioning for them to stand. Rather than having these children wreck a home, she would rather face Erik when he found out they had invaded a music room, a holy shrine to the thing that bound them. Sitting at the piano, she played an opening chord and began to sing the song she loved since young.

Father once spoke of an angel...

I used to dream he'd appear

Now as I sing I can sense him...

And I know he's here...

Here in this room he calls me

Softly, somewhere inside hiding.

Somehow I know he's always with me,

He the unseen genius...

A draft of wind entered the room as Christine felt the presence of another and knew they were no longer alone any more...

"Erik!" she cried out happily, half running to embrace him. He slowly pushed her away reluctantly, motioning to the children. Her eyes flickered towards them and then back to him, questioningly. He nodded, pointing slightly towards the outside. Christine noticed as the girl's eyes slowly showed a mixture of fear, hurt and then eventually betrayal. And then she bolted.

Erik was the first to react, almost grabbing the child a bit too roughly as he pulled her over and she continued to struggle wildly, kicking him and screaming. Christine instantly flew to the girl's side, bringing her brother as she hushed the girl with a soft, crooning and clicking sound. The girl choked back another sob as Christine looked up at Erik with pleading eyes, mouthing no. And that as when they turned to face the door, where another man was standing, chewing his cigarette furiously, about to light it.

"If you would care not to light that disgusting thing in my house, monsieur," Erik said tersely, glaring at him. The man had just focused his beady eyes on the little girl in Erik's grasp, reaching out his stubby fingers to her.

"Come to papa, child. Come, come!" he clapped his hands, as if talking to a baby. When she shook her head, he took on a harsher tone, glaring at her.

"Damn you child! Just come!" And still, she didn't. As the process played itself out a few more times, the man's patience frayed, not that he had much anyway. He lunged forward, only to be blocked by Christine.

"Monsieur, I beg of you! Do not treat a child as such, she doesn't deserve it. She will return to you of her own accord, if she wishes to. You have been hardly fair nor nice to her, it seems, and you cannot hope to blame her if she does not wish to return. Likewise for her brother." Erik held back a cry of applause as Christine stood her ground against the portly little man, silently applauding her instead from his head.

Brava, brava, bravissima…

The Baron fiddled with his moustache, seemingly thinking. He chewed the end of his cigarette again, sucking on it.

"Very well. Keep them, they are but a burden to me. I don't care about them if they be here or where, just make sure that when I call for them they are delivered."

Christine opened her mouth to speak against the vile man, but closed it decidedly when Erik motioned for her to do so as he nodded slowly at the Baron, but the cleft in his brow spoke otherwise. Damnable man! He was ten times worse than the bloody fop, Erik decided instantly. Even as an assassin or the dark Phantom, Erik sure had more heart than this callous beast. He had not even seen an inkling that this man was to pay any fees for their childcare, nor did he look like he was going to. All he did was to keep chewing on his disgusting fat cigar and flick his lighter or fiddle with his moustache. The nonchalance that permeated the air from the figure in front of his made both him and Christine see red at the fact that one could have such manners at them. And yet he controlled himself for his dear wife's sake. How he longed to reach his fingers and his hands out to the damned beast and throttle him, or best even send one of his treasured lassos around this bull's neck. One single stroke, and he would have paid for his sins. Already by then Erik had caught the man attempting to light his cigar more than once even after he had asked for him not to. Erik grimaced in frustration as he repeated his plea for the man not to light the cigarette. Didn't he know that lungs of singers and musicians had to remain as pure as possible? And here he stood, his portly being in Erik's home, the Kingdom of Music, with such blatant disrespect as he fiddled with the very object that Erik immensely disliked. As the Baron took his sweet time looking around at the house from where he stood, Erik almost felt an uncontrollable urge to just shoo him out. As his other servants and house inhabitants apparently thought too, as they glared at him with icily polite gazes. Thankfully, the man had some semblance of a conscience and the like to understand that he was not wanted, so blustering away as was his custom, that disgusting fool, Erik did not hesitate to note, he walked out, as pompous as ever, almost peacock like. Erik hastily closed the door, slightly louder than politely after him. It was then he looked down at the two children that were now standing before him with wide eyes, almost in tears.

"Thank you Mister Mask!" the little girl cried, hugging him with such force that Erik felt a whoosh of breath exit his body. He looked down at the girl with an expressionless face, before his gaze turned to Christine. Help me? his face seemed to say, as she giggled softly. Christine moved over to extricate the girl and her brother from her husband; his expression was but priceless as she watched the girl skipping freely about their house, free of her oppressive father. She remembered the idles of youth as she remembered Scandinavia and her travels across the wide land, slowly immersing herself in a world that was but her and her father all over again. The lilt of the violin and its melodies filled her ears, and the colorful lights of the carnivals and the places they performed in, and the gentle tinkling of the money as it sloshed about in her father's violin case as he collected it and kept his violin. And she could almost smell the sea salt again, the fresh, salty air of the deep blue sea as she looked across to the wide expanse of nothingness and wondered to her young self about life, as she wondered about the world. And her father's kindly smile as he lifted her from her feet and she giggled, spun about in his warm embrace and his never ending smile that spread around the globe like his fame and music, the precious tunes she held dear to herself. She then realized only after a while, that she had been humming, and the two children were at her feet, giving her a mesmerized gaze.

"Madame! Tis beautiful…" the little girl started, as her brother clapped happily. They giggled, singing a little ditty to her tune.

Wand'rin about the plain plain lands

I know I want a toy

Hey, you are my friend,

So will you share my joy?

Singing as such, the girl skipped about, singing the song she seemed to have composed lyrics for again and again, poking her brother playfully in the cheek. Without a care in the world, the little girl seemed almost angelic. Like you, Erik murmured at Christine, leaving her with an indelible pink tinge on her cheeks. She turned to him, smiling softly.

"Do you agree to a child then?" she said, a smug smile on her lips.

"Perhaps, but if they turned out like me?"

"Then I would love them all the more, until the end of life. And I will make sure everyone loves them as much as I do."

Erik blinked, trying to think of a rational counter to her words in all. How could one stir such emotions in him with one simple sentence? What he thought was but playing and the like had turned into but a whirlwind of emotions that rocked him, threatening to drown him in the sea of lost tears as a child.

Heavens above, what was this innocent woman and what witchcraft that she held such powers over him?

Raoul stood above the mirror in the room which was spotless and relatively without that annoying assassin. He stooped to the floor, observing the speckles of blood in the cracks that Erik had not removed, still thinking about the conversation that had been but a night or so ago. He had but three days. Would he stay and fight? Should he stay and fight? Or would he be but another "victim" of sorts, to bow to the mighty Phantom of the Opera and give in to his demands? He still remembered Christine's words on the roof. After they had sang, and he had kissed her. But he remembered. How she had removed her lips all too fast, and told him to order his horses, to protect her. Was he but a knight to her, a knight in shining armor to protect her? And her bloody, damnable husband? Raoul had almost but come to a realization that he was naught but a protector to keep them safe, and perhaps this was but the strings of fate that wove his story into theirs as their servant, knight and priest, as was the Girys.

Order your fine horses,

Be with them at the door…

And soon, you'll be beside me.

You'll hold me and you'll hide me…

Hide her? From what? Had she not mentioned that the Phantom had eyes everywhere? Maybe, maybe, he had hope against his adversary, against his rival. Maybe, he could win Christine back…but would she want him?

Please review, it'll make me write. :P In other news thank you for 1.2k views on my first chapter-wow, has it only been slightly over a month?