A/N: Has any of you ever wondered how PotO would sound sung by the real phantom? Well, I have.
Btw, before you read I'd recommend that you listen to the awesome violin PotO medley by Lindsey Stirling which greatly inspired this chapter.
Disclaimer: Based on the novel by Gaston Leroux. All Phantom related works, as well as lyrics quoted in the story, belong to their respective owners.
Chapter 7 - Angel of Music
Christine Labelle de Beaumont had first heard of the Phantom of the Opera at the sweet age of six when, joining a new ballet class, she met Megan Gale.
Little Meg, as everyone called the gaunt brunette girl, lived with her grandparents in a dusty old apartment in Montmartre. Her grandma liked to read a lot and drawing inspiration from her books, she told her granddaughter the most incredible bedtime stories. One evening she told her the tale of a haunted theater, an orphaned young singer who was visited by an angel, a nobleman willing to give up everything for love and a disfigured musical genius forced to hide underground.
The story got so impressed in little Meg's mind that when a couple months later she met a pale blonde named Christine, she immediately made the connection. She told her new friend the full story, pointing out how funny it was that the two of them were named just like the characters and even bore some resemblance to them. Christine was thrilled and the two girls often liked to pretend they were really Christine Daaè and Meg Giry and that there was a ghost living underneath their ballet school.
Years passed by, the girls grew and soon forgot about their childhood pastime, becoming more and more busy with school, boys and obviously their ballet training. That was until, thanks to the connections of Madame Labelle de Beaumont who in her youth used to be a ballerina, they were both admitted to join the prestigious ballet program at the Paris Opera.
It wasn't long after they arrived at Palais Garnier that they heard of the Opera Ghost. Every time something odd happened people would say, "It's must've been Erik!" and it soon became clear that by Erik they meant no other but the infamous phantom. Yet when in the two years they spent at the Opera House the girls never ran into anything supernatural, they figured it was all just a game of pretending, sort of like the one they used to play when they were kids. That was until one day Christine heard a voice.
She had been hanging with Philippe, her new boyfriend, and was late for class so coming to the Opera, she changed in a flash and was just about to join in with the others when she heard someone call her name. The voice appeared to be coming from within the walls of the empty dressing room which got her spooked at first, but then she recalled the talk of the phantom going on around the House and replied back. This way she met Erik.
They continued seeing each other - although seeing may not be the right term to put it as Erik never really showed up and only talked to her through the wall - but their encounters were rather rare, her tight schedules giving her little to no possibilities to find a moment alone while she was at the Opera. He always stayed in her mind though. Laying in bed she often imagined the tall figure dressed in black and masked in white finally coming to her in the flesh to carry her through the mirror into the depths of the Opera House where he'd help her into his gondola and take her to his lair illuminated by hundreds of candles to make sweet love to her in the swan-shaped bed. She never told anyone about any of this except for Meg who didn't believe her anyway.
"Must be a prank," the dark-haired ballerina said reasonably when Christine had finally confessed her secret. "You'd better watch it, " she warned. "Madame is getting really annoyed with you for being late to class all the time."
"No Meg," Christine cried, "it's all for real. The phantom exists and he's here for me," she added dreamily.
Meg gave her a pitiful look. "Chris, I know it feels great to be in the middle of some crazy adventure but things like that don't happen in real life. Someone is just making fun of you."
"You heard the rumors."
"Rumors are just that: rumors. There is no ghost."
"People saw him," Christine argued. "There's pictures on Instagram." She opened the app and typed #thephantomoftheopera, then clicked on one of the photos and showed it to Meg.
The brunette girl looked at the phone and rose a brow. The picture, posted just a couple weeks earlier, was an interior shot of Palais Garnier and in the far background, one could spot a slender masked figure. The caption underneath read: That feeling when you go to #Paris and run into #thephantomoftheopera. A list of fancy hashtags followed.
"See?" Christine said winningly. "There's more of these. Not a single portrait but this guy often appears in the background of some recent photos shot here at the Opera."
Meg shook her head. "Chris, whatever you believe this is not the phantom. It's just a guy who pretends to be him, you know for the tourists."
Christine crossed her arms. "No! I don't believe that!"
"His name really is Erik but it must be a coincidence. I think he's the boyfriend of one of the singers. They always have lunch together in the restaurant. Look here," Meg showed Christine a different shot, "it must be the two of them at that table."
Christine took a look at the picture and huffed. That wasn't Erik! That was just some random guy in a mask. The person she met was the real deal. She was certain of it, or was she?
There actually was one thing about Erik that got Christine doubting: he didn't sing. That is to say, he didn't sing what he was supposed to sing. True, they never had much time but when one time she intoned "Ange de la musique, découvre-toi; Étrange et pur esprit…" she expected him to reply in a similar fashion. Instead, he just mumbled something that sounded like "Seriously? This is absurd," and then just bid her goodbye. She tried it again a few more times but he never sang back.
Honestly, Erik thought every time Christine tried to prompt him to talk to her in ALW's lyrics, did people think he sang out all of his thoughts and to the music written a few decades after he died? Well, the phans likely did, judging from their usual screeching around the house, but he didn't really expect such mindlessness from Christine. On the other hand, considering how famous the musical about him was, it was inevitable that people would associate those songs with his humble persona.
In the current state of things, his chances at Christine were even slimmer than in the past. She only came to the House for a few hours a day to attend to ballet training before she'd be snatched away by her mother. Hopefully, once she was eighteen and out of an institution called high school, she'd be more independent and likely training at the Opera full time, giving him more opportunities to approach her. For the time being he could only try to befriend her, laying a solid foundation for their future relationship, and if it was to be of any help then be it, he'd learn to sing the "Phantom".
Going back to his lair, he stopped by the stage for a moment to listen to Carlotta rehearse. They were doing Verdi's "Rigoletto" that night and she was understudying for Julianne as Gilda. Despite all his efforts she still sang just as emotionlessly as ever.
When he later came to attend to the opera, he couldn't focus on the performance. His mind kept on going back to Christine and the bloody musical so halfway through the second act he just gave up and left. Sneaking into Carlotta's dressing room, he took her tablet along with a pair of headphones and borrowing a heavy cloak from the costume closet, he retreated to the roof. There he nested under the statue of Apollo's Lyre, where he knew he could somehow catch free wifi from the nearby hotel, and googled: phantom of the opera musical.
Thanks to the phans, he knew Leroux' work had inspired a musical, which had eventually been turned into a movie, but he couldn't imagine the authors had taken so many the artistic liberties with the story. In most of the productions he came by, Christine was inexplicably sporting a wild mane of dark cursl, Raoul had lost his moustache, not to mention a brother, Meg was blonde and a bit too curvy, especially for a ballerina, Madame Giry from a simple box keeper had suddenly become a ballet teacher and his foster mom, poor Carlotta was generally portrayed as old and fat but in return she'd been given a pet dog, Daroga was nowhere to be seen, and on top of that, he was handsome! A bit mangled, but still handsome! Now it was pretty clear why the phans tormented him so! They thought he was a sexy hunk in a mask!
Plot aside, the music wasn't bad. When performed by people who could actually sing, it was quite captivating, and if he ever failed to notice, it was likely the fault of the phans who would even make his "Don Juan" sound like the howling of a dying dog. The lyrics were pleasant too and he had no trouble memorizing them or even adjusting bits and pieces to serve his own needs.
When he finally began to feel cold and decided he'd better go back downstairs, it was already past midnight. That said he was pretty surprised when, coming back to Carlotta's dressing room to leave the iPad and the headphones, he saw the led lights around her mirror were still on. He imagined she just forgot to turn them off but then he saw her inside and remembered there had been a small reception planned for after the show. It appeared that this time Carlotta had decided to attend.
He thought she wouldn't notice him lurking in the shadows of the antechamber but then she perked her head up and looking around she called, "Erik? Are you in there?"
He didn't reply, only crept deeper into the shadow.
Carlotta shook her head in denial and muttered, "I'm getting obsessed"
She looked like a bride in that flowing white lace dress that made her entire figure seem to glow against the dim background of the dressing room. Her hair was up but she began to unpin it, letting it fall in soft waves on her back. Working, she quietly sang a familiar tune, "Di sotto all'Opera, lui vive lì, sul palco è con me, lo sento qui..."
Erik's jaw dropped. He'd heard Carlotta sing the most dramatic of pieces sounding as dull as an automaton but in those few simple notes she'd expressed a full spectrum of emotions: fear, excitement, hope. Whatever force had been holding her back was now gone, swallowed by the velvety darkness of the night.
Ever so softly, the soprano sang on, "Il canto volerà, soltanto se Fantasma dell'Opera è qui, insieme a me..."
Erik felt his heart flutter. How the hell did the little toad do that? The answer seemed obvious: she was inspired. Inspired by him. The idea of him being there, watching, didn't freeze her in fear. It lit her up and now that he knew it, he'd keep her burning until she'd take the whole Paris in flames.
An idea popped into his mind and before it would be too late to act her retrieved a tiny smoke bomb out of his pocket and threw it to the ground. It exploded with a bang and Carlotta jumped off her seat, dropping all of her hairpins on the floor.
As she watched the room getting filled with thick white smoke, the organ notes of the Phantom Song resounded in her head. A deep tenor sang, "La notte è un brivido intorno a te, follia recondita che invoca me," and she shivered.
Was that Erik? She'd never really heard him sing before, let alone in Italian, but she could think of no one else that would be able to produce so terrifyingly seductive a sound.
The voice, which seemed to come from within the walls of the room itself, continued, "Sei in mio potere ormai, e sai ben' che Fantasma dell'Opera è qui, insieme a te."
She glimpsed a masked face before it disappeared into the mist like a mirage. She asked, "Sei qui Fantasma dell'Opera?"
He replied, "Sono il tuo angelo, vieni…"
What the hell was Erik at? Intrigued, she walked through the smoke outside her dressing room and into the dark corridor.
"Angelo, guida la mia voce, dammi la tua gloria," she implored, joining in the game.
"Vieni, sarò il tuo angelo…" he taunted her, hiding in the shadows, his voice coming as her only guide.
She begged him to show up, "Mostrati a me, fa che ti veda, svelami il tuo incanto!"
"Troppo hai vagato nel vento," he answered in lyrics, finally stepping into her line of sight, "troppo lontana da me…"
Walking towards him, she continued, "Anche se sembra sbagliato…"
He sighed, "Non resisto..."
"... io voglio te!" she concluded on a high note that bounced off the walls of the empty auditorium before a heavy silence fell upon them both.
Erik stared at Carlotta in astonishment. Had she just sang she wanted him? The mere idea seemed ludicrous!
The girl felt her cheeks burn shamefully. She couldn't believe she just sang out loud that secret desire she didn't even dare to admit to herself. She wanted him. She wanted his appreciation, his admiration, his love.
Music began to play in her mind again and taking a step towards the ghost, she made up her courage and sang, "Pensami, pensami mentre io non dormirò, tu pensami, vorrei scordarti ma non potro mai," telling him through music how she felt about him, how she spent many restless nights tossing and turning in bed thinking about him. "Rimpiangerò tutte le cose che tu noi hai fatto insieme a me, ogni ora che vivrò, io penserò a te…"
She was forced to finish softly when Erik joined in, his strong tenor overlapping over her gentle soprano, "Ascolta questa musica per noi!"
Before she knew it he was at her side and pulling her into his arms.
"Quando brami strane tentazioni, quando vuoi oscure sensazioni," he sang in her ear and she would've sworn that, embed in his unearthly voice, she heard the sound of electric guitar, bass, and violin.
Taking her by the hand, he made her turn around and wrapped one arm around her waist, the other gripping possessively at her throat.
"Nella notte senti immensi sogni ardenti, quell'immagine d'amore che tu vuoi."
The soft notes caressed her like a lover's touch and closing her eyes, she melted against his chest.
He made her turn to face him again, then concluded fortissimo, "Può tutto questa musica per NOI!", reminding her that in the end, he was a creature of the darkness.
Extending her arm towards him, she cried, "Angelo, il buio ti ghermisce!"
He stalked towards her, eyes blazing. "Mai non ebbi libertà, male e odio intorno a me…" he reminded her about his past life, that life that had made him what he was. "Chi provò per me pietà? Dimmi il mostro qui chi è?"
Was he really a monster? Was he a phantom? No, he was just a man. A strange brilliant man with a masked face.
"Chi vide il volto tuo poi ne impazzi," she sang in reprise, "a me lo mascheri..."
He took over placing her hand over her racing heart. "Mi vedi qui..."
Lost in the fantasy, they continued together, "In quel labirinto che m/t'inghiotte ormai, Fantasma nella mia mente sei/è, e rimarrà(i)!"
"Canta per l'Angelo della Musica!" he called out in a way that would make Webber swoon.
She intoned, "E' lui il Fantasma dell'Opera!"
"Canta per il tuo Angelo!"
She took a deep breath and sang on.
"Canta per me!"
She got higher and higher, until she hit that final note and fell back into his embrace, spent like a burnt-out candle. Carefully he steadied her on her feet and taking her face in his hands he looked her deep in the eyes. She parted her lips in anticipation but the kiss never came. Instead, he only whispered, "See little toad, this is how I want you to sing."
A/N: I decided to do the lyrics in Italian because 1. Carlotta is Italian so it only seems logical that she'd be singing in Italian and 2. PotO sounds even more awesome in Italian. The lyrics mostly correspond to those of the Italian version of the musical with some minor variations. Also, the first verse Carlotta sings is actually an Italian adaptation of the Brightman version.
Next chapter: looks like Erik figured out a way to make Carlotta sing better. Will she get the lead in the next production? Or will something, or someone, stop her?