I may go back and polish this up a bit, but I think it's fine how it is and I really want to write the wedding scene.

The main difference of this fic to Lilacs is that this Christine isn't nearly as strong, and this Erik is (hopefully) a bit closer to Leroux than I managed before.

Speaking of Lilacs, that fic is just impossible right now, so it's going to wrap up really quickly. I should have one chapter up by tomorrow (fingers crossed) and then two more as soon as I can, then the epilogue. It's started to drag, I think, and I need to get to the end.

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My mind was beginning to make up itself without my knowledge. I found myself at the desk in my bedroom, a pen wet with ink in my hand, and a paper beneath my other.

A black dot bled through the paper as my mind formed the words.

Dear Maman,

Forgive me for leaving you. I fear I shall never see you again due to a situation of which I cannot confide in you.

I wish to request a favor from you. I would like you to find a way to bring a small bag of my most treasured possessions to the side of the opera house, on the Rue Scribe, and deposit them in a place hidden enough to be found only by the one searching for it.

You have been far more than simply my benefactress, as you well know. You have been my friend and as close to a mother as I have ever truly known. Do not believe I will not miss you, as I am crying now as I write this.

Please forgive me.

Love,

Christine

I folded it and brought it out with me into the drawing room, clasping my hands about it as I sat down upon the sofa. Now I waited.

Erik would never permit this...

The door to his bedroom opened, and he emerged, black silk concealing his terrible face along with its expressions.

"Are you still upset?" He inquired. "You at least think the necklace is pretty, don't you?... Don't you want to wear it to the wedding? You would be the envy of a good number of brides-"

"I'll wear it if you..." I took a breath, settling my fluttering heart, "if you permit me a favor."

"A favor?..." His voice darkened as his eyes found the letter. "What favor?"

I extended it to him, my hand quivering. He took it, glanced at it, and promptly tore it in half.

"No," he told me simply.

"B-but Erik, please, at least let me fetch some of my things from home-"

His hand extended to toss the torn paper into the fire, but it returned to his side.

"Her house?" He asked, confused as he extended the pieces to me. "Is this not for our guest?"

"N-no, of course not. I want to tell my benefactress not to worry about me, and ask her to bring some of my possessions to the opera house. Not valuable ones, just sentimental ones, rocks from Sweden and things like that... the little locket with my mother's note inside it... Those sorts of things."

He opened the note, read it, and upon finishing found me crying softly into my hands.

"Oh, my dear, don't cry," he pleaded. "I only thought... Yes, of course I can deliver this. After all, she is your only family, as you've said before, though she's not related by blood... I'll procure your sentimental things, and I'll even buy a lovely little chest for you to put them all in. Please don't cry," his voice was filling with tears as he went on his knees before me. "Please, you've cried so much and I can't bear it. Forgive me for tearing the note, I only assumed, logically, that it was for the boy... There, you're quieting... Why would I deny my wife an innocent favor such as this, when it would please her so? And you promised to wear the necklace I bought. What a beautiful bride you shall be, a real, living bride..."

He fumbled with his fingers for a moment as he rose. I dabbed at my eyes with a handkerchief.

"A-at the end of the ceremony," he explained, beginning to pace similar to his suddenly nervous tone, "the husband is usually permitted to give his wife a... a... kiss."

He turned to me, waiting with wide, hopeful eyes behind his mask.

"Would you be brave enough for that?" He asked, his voice trembling as if caught by a breeze. "One small kiss on your forehead?"

One small kiss... He had not threatened, not yelled, simply pleaded for this one minuscule request, and yet one that made me shiver.

But I nodded with blank features.

"What?" He said, bewildered. "Tell me, so I may be sure, you promise to let me... k-kiss you? A real kiss on your very own forehead?"

"I promise," I whispered.

He was possessed by joy, and fell to my feet in his immense happiness, peppering the hem of my dress with kisses. He wept as he thanked and worshiped me, declaring that tomorrow would he the happiest day of his miserable life. He was crying so profusely that he had to remove his mask.

I turned my head away rather than brave the sight of him.

When he had wept his fill, he rose, and told me softly, "If you are lying, I believe you can surmise the consequences... I'm going to procure your veil now... Have you changed your mind about a wedding dress? A real wedding dress?"

I stared into the palms of my folded hands, "A simple one."

"But a real dress and veil? You promise to wear them both and behave yourself at the ceremony?"

I nodded. I gave a start as he clapped his hands together in euphoria.

"You are too wonderful, my Christine," he sighed happily. "Go rewrite your letter and I'll take it on my way to purchase your wedding dress."

I hastened to do so, and soon he was gone. I was alone.

I ate a piece of fruit he had set out every five minutes or so, but it was simply an activity to do. A distraction.

I hummed, ate a strawberry, toyed with the piano keys, pinned my hair up, let it down, ate a browned apple slice, pinned it back up, read a chapter of a novel, ate another strawberry, wandered about my room, examined my bruises, ate a handful of blueberries, cried for Raoul, and then sat back down on the sofa for quite some time until I heard Erik's footsteps behind the door.

He pushed it open, four white boxes in his arms. He was wearing his false nose and mustache that made me cringe, as it did little to remedy his hideousness.

"Have you not moved at all since I left, my darling?" He inquired, placing the boxes beside me. "Do you want me to open them for you? You look tired, even though you slept for so long..."

"I'll open them," I replied, my voice fragile.

He sat down in the armchair across from me, his spindly fingers entwining beneath his concealed chin, which seemed to be cocked slightly in curiosity. As I clumsily unwrapped it, I wondered if my hands would ever be still again.

Two veils, both lace, one in a floral pattern and the other simple, but with the edges in clear silk. Two dresses, both snow-white, one in silk with lace up the shoulders, and the other similar, nearly identical.

"Pick for me," I whispered.

"But try the dresses on. We have to be sure they fit."

I found myself nodding and taking the dresses into my room. The fabric was ice against my skin, causing pink bumps to rise along my arms. They were both tedious to dress in, and to make matters worse, I could hear Erik's impatient footsteps. He didn't like to be deprived of me, even for this.

The lace-shouldered one fit better, but when I stared into my lonely mirror, I realized how terrible I looked. Almost like a ghost- no, no, exactly like a ghost. Like a bride who had died the day of her wedding.

My nose was still bandaged, and I could tell it had swelled up and bruised an ugly purple, which crept out from the sides. I had actually broken it. The other bruises still had yet to begin truly fading, as it had only been two days. The only sign that it was my reflection were my blue eyes. My hair was covered by the veil, tucked away and hidden. Upon concealing my features with this, I found the sight much more appealing, though my stomach churned.

I undressed, hiding from the mirror, and took the boxes out to Erik. He was in his armchair now, tapping his foot from impatience.

"It takes so long for women to change," he said.

"This one fits best, but I don't care about anything else," I told him monotonously, ignoring his comment. "I'll wear whatever you choose."

"Oh, the flowery lace, then, isn't it lovely?"

I nodded.

"Does your nose hurt at all?" He asked, finally voicing some concern. "I don't believe it actually broke, only bruised."

"It's swollen..."

"My poor little Christine, I wish we could postpone the wedding, but I've already arranged for the ceremony tomorrow. And you're still far more beautiful than I, so don't fret. And, of course, you will be wearing a veil, such a lovely veil... Do you have any requests for dinner tomorrow? Lunch? Anything special for the wedding?"

"I don't care what you do. Dress me in my Marguerite costume, I don't care."

He gave a nervous laugh, evidently hoping I was trying to make a joke. My eyes remained intent upon my hands.

"Why are you so afraid still?" He asked, his voice soft in my ears. "I'll wear my mask everyday when we're married, so you won't have to see me. I know you fear me, but I'm not truly wicked, if you love me you'll see... Is there something else troubling you?"

My lips parted, but no sound issued.

"What, my little Christine? Tell me so that I can alleviate your concerns."

"What... sort of marriage will this be?"

"A happy one? I don't understand the question, don't you already know the answer?"

"But... will I... will we ever... c-consummate it?"

His eyes turned to embers, and he was upon his feet in an instant, bristling with fury.

"You think I would be capable of such a crime?!" He demanded as I shrunk into the cushions. "I would tear myself into a thousand pieces- a million!- pieces, before I ever even entertained the thought! It makes me sick to think of, you know, sick! I would never touch you, never, never! And if I ever did, Christine, why, I would let you kill me in any way you deem fit. And if you were kind still, too kind to give me a worthy punishment, then I would do so many terrible things to myself! So many unnameable tortures... But that will never happen. I love you too much, more than anything... Well, I don't love anything besides you save music, but I would shatter my very eardrums for you! I love you more than any man has ever loved a woman, because I've never loved anyone before. It was too painful, you see, to try to love someone who reviled me. But you, you're kind and wonderful, and you said 'let me look upon you without fear!' Oh, how I loved you then, and even though it was a lie, I love you even more now..." He sighed. "I would never taint you in such a way. Don't lose sleep over such a ludicrous, vile notion. As my wife, I will worship and adore you. We'll live in a perfect, normal house, furnished however you choose, and you'll have your own, perfect little bedroom, with white and silver furniture, and all in blue, like the sky you adore... Oh, and how wonderful you'll look inside it, a real, living wife inside a normal house!... My wife..."

I wished I believed him, but even after his profession of devotion, I couldn't. He could change on a whim.

"Do you fear anymore?" He inquired.

I shook my head.

"Oh, you don't know how happy that makes me! A real, living wife is one thing, but one who doesn't have any fears is even more incredible to think of."

"Would you play for me?" I asked softly, glancing up at him.

"You're an angel, an absolute angel, my little Christine," he sighed, delighted as he leapt to the piano. "Any requests?"

"I don't care..."

I indulged him all day. I let him decide everything, too exhausted to do so myself. When I needed to cry, I excused myself and hid within the walls of my bathroom until my eyes ran dry. Erik would pace outside the door, impatient for me to return to him.

I barely ate any food that day, but Erik blamed my nerves. I was a bride, after all, it was right for me to be anxious. He didn't even care...

He insisted we play music, and even when I was seeing the music through slits, my eyelids too heavy to hold up, he refused to cease. I asked to retire three times before he conceded, and as I curled up in bed around my empty stomach, I could hear his footsteps again.

I cried myself to sleep.