This fic is actually going into my first idea for Lilacs. It was just too dark for what I wanted, as Lilacs wasn't supposed to be a complete downer. This fic, however, should be a full-on dark fic.
Fyi, the rating will not change.
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The door opened, but I made no movement save blinking. Erik came to my side, a glass of water in his bony hands and his gold eyes soft behind his mask.
"See how your fiancé cares for you?" He told me, his voice ringing with contentment. "How much more when I'm your husband."
I continued staring.
"Do you not want the water you requested?" He asked.
I made no sign.
"I'll take it away, then, if you're so inclined to send me on useless errands-"
"No, no," I argued, sitting upright, "I-I want it, please."
His gold eyes flashed, and I nearly thought he was going to leave without acquiescing. But he began to hand the glass to me, then snatched my bare left hand.
"Where is it?" He hissed. "Where-? On your nightstand, but you didn't take a bath... Do you not like it, then? It's the finest cut of sapphire, if you would like to know, no blemishes, and you discard it simply because-"
"No," I argued desperately, searching for an explanation. "It's beautiful, I-I was watching it catch the light before, and I... forgot to replace it."
His eyes flickered with disbelief, but he placed it back upon my finger, caressing it, "Don't remove it again save for baths."
I nodded, swallowing a lump that had formed in my throat. He handed me my glass of water.
"T-thank you," I whispered. "Would you tell me about the marriage? I'm a little frightened."
"Oh, not frightened, why should you be frightened?" He replied, pacing about the room and halting when he wished to emphasize. "You're merely anxious... You shouldn't fear my face anymore, and when have I been anything but careful with you, my little Christine?"
"You hurt me before, when I unmasked you."
"It was your own fault you were foolish enough to reveal my face, though it's a terrible shame you were harmed... You shouldn't have been, never, not even for that... But you're wiser now, much wiser, and you know I would rather die than hurt you."
I extended my wrists to him, which were beginning to bruise in colorful rings.
"Those are your own doing as well," he said, keeping his gaze from them. "You would've killed yourself... But our marriage will have none of that, no pain, so long as you're a good girl like you try to be. It won't be very different from how it was before, only, as my wife," he paused to savor this thought, "you shall have fine dresses to wear, jewelry, shoes-"
"Can I visit people, a-as your wife?"
"No," he told me, with decision. "You'll remain with your husband... How wonderful it will be to never be alone! I've been alone all my life, even when people were near me, because they despised or feared me, but you are kind to me, and tolerate me... Once you learn marriage is not so terrible, perhaps you'll love me. After all, it'll be wonderful for you! You never need fear anything as my wife- that's what a good husband does, never gives his wife any worries. You can stay home and read all the books you like, and knit, or whatever you want to occupy your time with. And when I'm home, which will be often, as I love you, I'll entertain you so you'll never be bored... There, are you still anxious?"
"What about the house?"
He hesitated, ceasing his pacing.
"It may take me a month to find the perfect home for you," he told me quietly. "After all, you will spend much of your life, if not all, inside it, so it has to be acceptable to you..."
"I don't mind so long as I'm away from here."
"It's not so terrible down here. Isn't your room lovely?" He offered, gesturing around at it. "The furnishings are all antique, you know, some priceless, even. Aren't the trinkets pretty? The mother-of-pearl, doesn't it reflect the candlelight marvelously?"
"I hate this place."
His hand twitched, and he said sorrowfully, "I'm going to compose more of our wedding mass now..."
He shut the door behind himself, and I remained lying down atop my bed, without the will to move. His playing reverberated in my ears until they numbed and I feared I might never hear another sound again. But perhaps that was preferable, as without this essential ability for my craft, he might let me go.
A few hours later I realized my hair was damp upon my pillow, and I was in a blue dress instead of white. I must have bathed and changed at some point, but I couldn't remember. The roar of the organ had drowned my very actions out.
He finally ceased, but I suddenly wished he would continue as I heard his footsteps make their way to my door. He knocked thrice before entering.
"Did you take a nap?" He asked, coming to the side of my bed with his head cocked slightly in curiosity.
I stared up at the ceiling as I had before. It was quite easy to ignore him, since the music seemed to have planted a bee in my head.
"Won't you answer your fiancé?" He whimpered. "I only want to please you... I could bring you dinner if you're hungry."
I blinked to hold back my tears, silent. Erik waved his hand over my face to be sure I could hear him, and I turned onto my side, away from him.
He sunk to his knees beside the bed and tugged at the covers with his spindly fingers, causing me to shift slightly towards him.
"Why do you ignore me?" He pleaded. "My own mother ignored me all the time because of my hideousness, but you're braver than she, so why do you turn away? When I'm masked, why?"
I felt him pull the blankets swiftly under me, so I rolled to the side, curling up and sobbing. To think I had tears left...
"Do I have a dead wife after all?!" He lamented, causing me to hug my legs. "A dead wife for the living corpse?!"
I sobbed harder, trembling, and his ragged breathing slowed. The floor creaked as he rose.
"Don't cry," he pleaded, coming around to me. "Don't cry, it pains me... Won't you stand up? I'll replace your blankets if you stand up."
I sniffled into the bedsheets beneath me.
"Would you like me to pay a visit to our guest?" He inquired coldly. "Stand up, my little Christine... Don't cry, you mustn't cry..."
Something in his tone propelled my feet to the floor, but I swayed where I stood.
"How anxious you are, my bride," he said with whatever sympathy he possessed. "Come sit in the drawing room and permit me to distract you. You won't cry if you forget your worries, and they truly are needless... I've wanted a wife for all the time I've known what one was, so I'm certain I can value you well, far better than anyone... How I love you, my Christine! Would you like to be sure? Do you want a profession of it? Poems? Sonnets? Songs? Oh, I would write music only for you if you asked!... Why do you cry harder? Those words in the mouth of any other man would make you swoon."
I choked on my tears some more. He approached me with a handkerchief and began to dab at my cheeks with it as I shrunk myself to the smallest size I could.
His hand withdrew, "There... Don't add any more, your eyes are all red now, my poor Christine... Why don't we go read? You used to love reading together while I sat at your feet... Although wives normally occupy that position... Come into the drawing room."
He gestured and followed behind me. I found my way over to the bookcase, running my fingertips down the spines of the numerous novels, journals, and organized whatnot that lined his mahogany bookshelves. The titles blurred together in my vision until I placed my hands over my eyes. The buzz in my ears had dulled, but the lack of sight increased its fury in my head.
I withdrew to the sofa, my hands empty, unaware as to how I would be able to read anything ever again, with my mind in such a state.
"Do you want me to pick a book for you?" Erik inquired.
I nodded blankly, my arms about myself.
"And I would quite like to read it to you," he said. "You always read your books to me when I asked, how kind you were..."
He came in front of me with a book the color of red wax, and stared, as if he expected something from me. Then I remembered his earlier suggestion, that we trade places, and the fact that Raoul was his captive.
I needed to behave until the wedding, then after Erik released him, I could resist. Until then, with my poor Raoul's life in my hands, I would gladly serve any of Erik's whims if I knew my love was protected.
So I placed a gold-tasseled cushion onto the Persian carpet and sat down upon it, leaning my head back against the sofa. Perhaps he would allow me to shut my eyes and listen to the buzzing noise in my head rather than his intoxicating voice.
"How kind you are," he praised, evidently delighted. "Are you comfortable there, though, my little fiancée?"
I nodded weakly, "What book?"
"Alice in Wonderland."
"That's a children's book."
"No," he argued, "plenty of adults read it."
"You always buy me new ones to read..." I whined dejectedly, but then I caught myself. "It's fine, please read to me."
His voice was music, and the book tedious to my strained mind, so I found my eyelids growing heavy. I should've known not to fall asleep in such close proximity to him; I was simply too tired to resist.
Erik was unaware that I was asleep, so I woke from tumbling onto the carpet as he rose. He gave a small cry of alarm, but I insisted I was fine, and he went off to make me dinner.
Perhaps being at his feet shouldn't have frightened me as it did, but it was vastly different from his earlier behavior, where I was an untouchable angel, and he was a worthless beast. Now, I was beneath him. He seemed to enjoy the thought of being in complete control over me. Wives were meant to be submissive, and he knew I was far from that. Did he mean to break me?
I already felt broken...
"Come sit down, my dear," he called from the dining room, pulling out a chair for me.
I sat down with my hands clasped in my lap. I could only imagine how miserable I appeared, bruised and pale, my lips pressed hard together.
"Are you not going to eat, my darling?" Erik asked, disappointed. "Don't you like prawns?"
I nodded weakly, "I do... Does our guest have food?"
"Enough, if it contents you to know... But I already told you, no discussion of him."
"Could I do something so he could have more? A-and a blanket-?"
"Did I not just say," he said coldly, "that there shall be no more discussion of him?"
I averted my eyes to my dinner and was silent as I ate. Erik rose at one point to adjust the glazed tortoise atop the mantlepiece, but other than that, his eyes were always upon me.
"You said we'll..." I hesitated for a moment, glancing down at my remaining vegetables, "go to the park when we're married. What shall we do?"
His eyes lit, "We'll take walks in the park together on Sundays, and other days if you so desire. I've always wanted to have a wife beside me, on my arm, like any other man would. And what a perfect wife you shall be... Are you anxious about that?"
"I don't think I'll be a perfect wife at all..."
"Why not?"
"You know me, Erik. How can a woman who doesn't want to marry be a proper wife?"
"You don't have to be a proper wife, but you'll be a perfect wife, because I love you. Oh, my Christine, how I love you! Marry me and I'll show you more, so much more! I've never been allowed to love a woman, and now that I can, how wonderful it'll be for you! You'll want for nothing with me as your husband, nothing at all... I only want a wife... I want sweet, brave little Christine as my wife and I'll be happy... I wonder what it's like to be truly happy. I was happy as your angel, but not fully, as you couldn't see me..." He glanced at my plate. "Are you finished?"
I placed my hands in my lap and nodded. As he took my plate away, I returned to my room, falling down atop my bed and suffocating in the quilted sheets.
"Christine?" Erik called. "Why did you leave? You've already had a nap, come sing for me."
I lifted my head, balancing it atop my fingertips as I stared at the wall in front of me.
He came into my room without knocking, "Are you still nervous, my fiancée?"
At hearing no reply, he came around to the other side of my bed, kneeling down to be level with my eyes. There was so much expression in those terrifying gold eyes of his. The darkness they resided in could grow and dissipate, revealing anger, fear, joy, everything a normal man would display.
That was when we heard a thump! in the torture chamber.
"Who has come calling?" Erik said, chuckling to himself. "Hello? Who has come to disturb Erik?... Oh, don't be shy, you're safe should you have no nose... If not..." he chuckled again and waited for a reply. "Well? Who are you, why have you come into my torture chamber?"
Silence still.
He sighed, "The fool is probably unconscious... One moment, my dear, I need to get something."
He left the room, and I heard a whisper, "Mademoiselle Daaé?"
"Who are you, monsieur?" I asked. "Why are you here?"
"I'm Persian man you've seen around the opera house, I'm here save you."
"It's too late, I've promised to marry him... Were you with Raoul, by any chance?"
"He fell and hit his head. I had to take him to his brother, and they delayed me longer than I had intended, far longer... He hasn't hurt you, has he?"
"My wounds are my own doing, no. But Raoul was captured by Erik. He told me so."
"That's not possible. His brother was taking him home last I saw him. He needed a doctor."
"W-what do you mean?" I pleaded, filling with hope. "Oh, please, monsieur, he lives? He's free?"
"Yes. He should be fine."
"Oh, thank you, but you must go, quickly, before Er-"
The door opened, and Erik strode in and grabbed my wrist with a bony and unrelenting hold.
"Go into the drawing room and amuse yourself," he told me. "I have some business to attend to with our other guest."
"No, no, you can't-"
He began to drag me, and I kicked and screamed, pleading with him. It was perfectly useless, and soon I was locked outside the door, pounding my fists against the surface.
He was going to torture the Persian!