Prologue

Raoul and I had married and left the past behind. That final night at the opera house had become nothing more than a memory and memories couldn't hurt, could they? I knew that Raoul had taken every step to ensure it would never come back to haunt us. We stayed in Paris, but after that night we never returned to the opera. We had a happy beginning, honeymooning at the shore and acting like the children we once were. I loved him, truly I did.

And yet my heart had always beat for my angel. Always. Even in our darkest hours, it was his name in every thought. Could a heart love two people equally? I had chosen Erik that night, whilst my heart was breaking for Raoul. And then Erik released me, making the choice for me, and my heart broke for him. But, like the child I was, I obeyed and left with Raoul, relieved that I would no longer be torn. At the time I simply accepted that Erik had my best interests at heart, but being a wife had made me grow up. I was no longer the little ballet girl who believed in fairytale endings.

Things changed a year into our marriage. It was my understanding that by this point Raoul and I should be expecting, but as the months went on it became apparent that was not the case. Our bliss began to show signs of cracking. My arms felt empty. We began to row. And it began to hurt…

The First Month

The stirring of an idea came to me one night as I was singing softly to myself but I pushed it away, not daring to open that part of my heart again. The half of my heart that still had Erik's name emblazoned on it for all eternity. Erik. But oh, if this worked it could benefit us all, I tried to reason with myself. An heir for Raoul, a legacy for Erik and a child for me. But no, no I could never betray my husband's trust, even as much as I loved.

Time passed and the longing grew until most days saw me withdrawn and lacking interest in the pleasures which had once captured me. It was as I cried myself to sleep for what felt like the thousandth time and Raoul gently pulled me close, whispering, "I'm sorry," that I made my decision.

I dressed warmly, remembering the chill that the catacombs of the opera held, even in summer. I also selected a simple gown — nothing befitting of the vicomtesse I was — for my journey would not take me to an elegant afternoon tea or a dinner party.

I remembered the route and the tricks Erik had shown me to access his home. I was thankful that he had not changed their secrets. Had he hoped that one day I might return? I knew that he still dwelled here. My secret but frequent correspondence with the Persian assured me of Erik's continued wellbeing. I would have been lying to myself if I had simply cut all ties to him. No, after that night, I'd had to make sure he would be alright.

I heard his music before I'd even gotten close to the house on the lake. He was singing. Oh, that voice! It was enough to make grown men weep at its beauty. As before I felt the pull to be nearer, like a siren luring a sailor to death, so too, did Erik draw me in.

As I entered the house the singing stopped, breaking the spell and at this my nerves returned. He stood in the middle of the music room, silent and still.

"Christine…" his voice was just a whisper.

"Erik."

"Why?"

"Later." I ran to him, arms outstretched and he caught me as I clung to him, wrapping my arms about him in a fierce embrace.

"Christine, I dream again of you, and yet you feel so real. The descent into madness must nearly be done, is this the final stage of delirium?"

"Delirium? No, I am here, truly here," I reached for his hands, and brought them up between us, urging him to look in my eyes.

"Then prove it to me. Remove my mask. The Christine in my dreams does not recoil from my face."

I reached up and did as he asked, revealing the face that I'd seen in my dreams every night.

"You do not recoil, you are not real." He snatched the mask from me and placed it back over his haunted face.

"I am! Look," I did what I knew would hurt him, but it was the only way to prove that this was no fantasy of his as I held up Raoul's wedding band.

"But you left, you married him. Why are you here? You don't love me."

The words I so longed to say caught in my throat, knowing if he knew the depth of my feelings he would keep me and I'd likely never see my husband again. "I did what you asked me, Erik. You let me go."

He sighed. "Yes, I let you go. I love you too much to have kept you. Are you happy, Christine? Does he make you happy?"

"He does."

"And the music, is it still part of your life?"

"Regretfully, no. Not for months."

"Because of him! Because a vicomtesse would not lower herself to the status of opera singer!"

"No! Whatever you may think, the lack of music in my life has not been caused by Raoul. Not directly, at least."

"Elaborate."

"The reason for my visit," was I really going to ask this of him? "I need you for…"

"Secret singing lessons? No, Christine, the memory is too painful."

"No, not that. I…I need you to… I have to ask you for…"

He softened at my clear anxiety and gently lifted my chin up to meet his gaze. "What is it, Christine? What do you need? Anything, and it shall be yours. You need but ask."

"A gift," I managed.

"A gift? A wedding gift? Is this a jest?"

"Not a wedding gift, nothing that money can buy," I closed my eyes, "a baby."

Silence. I opened my eyes to see Erik grappling with a chair, in an attempt to sit.

"Are you…are you sure there isn't a nice dinner set you'd prefer…"

But I didn't laugh. "Using humour as a defence mechanism? I suppose it's better than threats. I don't believe you'll refuse me, Erik." Though I stood boldly now that my request was put forth, inwardly I chastised myself for attempting to manipulate him in this manner. Give him what he most desired in exchange for the one thing I most wanted. Perhaps, the two things I most wanted. But hadn't he played this game with me before? At least there were no lies this time.

"Are you really asking this of me?"

"Are you really going to say no?" I countered.

A long contemplative silence, then, "Why?"

"It's complicated, but please know that I have given this great consideration. I have seen doctors, they say nothing is wrong—"

"So the Vicomte is the problem? Physically, he has everything I do not, I cannot think I should best him in this either."

"Don't say such things. My heart is breaking, longing for something that is so out of reach. I knew you were the one person who could understand that."

"Oh Christine, you do not know what you ask. What if the child is born with defects, like me?"

"I have considered that, but knowing how loved this child would be then it's a risk I'm willing to take."

"Well I am not. Besides, what makes you so certain that I can even make a baby?"

"I don't."

Erik sighed. "And yet, you would risk everything just for the chance."

"Yes."

Erik appeared to soften in his demeanour, and my hopes were raised. But as soon as the walls fell, he rebuilt them as though suddenly being drawn out of the fantasy. "No! This is absurd! Not only could I never inflict my curse upon an innocent soul but your husband would certainly know that the child was not his."

"You were innocent when it was 'inflicted' upon you."

"I'm sure God knew what I'd grow up to be."

"You committed those sins because of what God did to you! Because you never found acceptance. But Erik, you must realise, if you had been born with an unmarked face, we never would have met. And that…that would be a great loss."

"A great loss indeed… But no, I can't, I can't risk cursing a child."

"I don't think that would be the case Erik. You said yourself there was no family history, the specialists you had as a child proclaimed you were unique in this." He wasunique.

"True, but knowing no woman would ever take me to their bed, they never bothered to inform me the chances of my own children…my own children…"

He suddenly reached for me and kissed me fiercely. Fervent, yet not frightening. My lips recognised his from all that time ago. They had never forgotten.

Ignited. That's how I felt when Erik kissed me. All my senses were aware of him, my skin sparking, invisibly reaching out to him. He was at once dangerous and tender, an enigma I had yet to fathom. His body was pressed flush to mine, one hand on my cheek, one making a path down to my waist. I gripped his arms for stability as he began to walk me backwards. Backwards, towards his bedroom.

I had never been in his room before and I tried to look about me, but his hand came around my face, pulling me back to kiss him. And I melted. It was clear that he had reasoned with himself that he would no longer deny himself this, outcome be damned.

His fingers found the fastenings at the back of my gown and quickly began unhooking them. I tried to assist but he brushed me away, guiding my hands to his own clothes. I pulled his coat off and then undid his tie. He stepped back as my gown slid from my shoulders and pooled around my feet. My corset was a lace up now that I had a dresser to assist me in the mornings and he grew frustrated at the slowness with which it took to untie. Eventually, though, each layer fell to the floor, each layer another betrayal to Raoul. I was doing this for all our sakes, I told myself. I wasn't the only one who wanted a child and I knew that my happiness would delight my husband and our marriage could resume its once happy course. Yes, I was doing this for us all.

Erik removed my chemise and I stood bared before him. The final barrier was gone and he stepped back to admire me. He made me feel so beautiful and I felt myself blush under his gaze. He was still partially dressed and I reached for his mask only to have him shrink back from me, inhaling a sharp intake of breath. I looked up at him, pleading with my eyes.

"Don't be afraid of this," I whispered, pulling at his bow tie.

He closed his eyes and allowed me to finishing undressing him. His body was thin, but I could make out muscles amongst the sharp angles of him. I glanced down at him and saw his wanting. Once again, my body responded in anticipation. I'd been married over a year, of course I wasn't afraid of the physical, I was only afraid of my heart.

He kissed me again and gently pushed me back onto the bed without breaking the kiss. How confident he seemed! Had he done this before? I had cruelly assumed that he hadn't. My first time with Raoul had been awkward, shy and slightly painful but this… Instinctively I wrapped my legs around him, drawing him close. I wanted to touch all of him and my fingers traced lines down his back, saddened when I was reminded again of how thin he was. He placed small kisses down my neck, pausing with a chaste kiss upon my voice box.

"My greatest creation," he said, his own voice now husky.

"Erik, please," I said, grazing myself against him. He stilled and took a sharp inhale of breath. He seemed to be warring with himself, distracting himself by looking anywhere other than me. I nudged him again gently, goodness knows, I didn't need him spilling on the bedsheets before he was inside me.

He smiled, still surprisingly confident as he began to enter me. And oh, how it felt. Like I had been walking around as half of a whole and now I was complete. I could not help but bury my face into his neck, inhaling his scent of amber teak and sandalwood.

"No, Christine, look at me," he said, leaning up. "I will not have you imagining the Vicomte in my place. I want you to know who it is that pleases you."

"No, Erik. My Erik…" as he moved within me his name was the only thing that made sense. I clung to him, loving him in every second. I could feel the imminent end building within me. Was this to be over so soon? I gripped the hair at the nape of his neck, wanting to ensure that he was not the one to break the vow and look away from me. And then the world was in colour and all I could see was him. I did not close my eyes, I did not dare. I wanted him to see how I loved him, though I would never be able to speak the words. My sole focus was on those piercing eyes. One deep blue, one emerald green. How beautiful, how very beautiful he was.

My actions undid him until he could take no more. His cries were musical, my name on his lips. He pulled me close again and this time, it was he who buried his face. I could feel his heart drumming rhythmically against my own. As awareness returned and the haze of my mind cleared I felt remorse for what I'd done. No, remorse was too strong a word, for I did not regret this, I would never regret this.

"Erik, look at me."

"No, Christine, no," he replied. And I nodded understanding. For a while we lay intertwined until the sweat on our bodies began to cool. I shivered.

"You're cold," he stated, leaning up, yet avoiding meeting my gaze. "Get in, I'll make you some tea." He lifted the heavy blankets for me and wrapped himself in a robe.

When he returned he was wearing the mask again. Of course. I didn't argue it, he would never believe me if I said that I wanted to look at his face. He sat on the bed and handed me the tea, ever the portrait of a gentleman, even in just a robe. Why was he so stoic? Did he regret this? All I wanted to do afterwards was curl into him and fall asleep. Why had he put this distance between us all of a sudden?

He sighed. "Christine. I love you, from the moment I heard you sing, even before I saw your face, I loved you. I will always love you and even if you can't ever love me in return, thank you for giving me this. I only hope that I am able to grant your wish." With that, he collected his clothes from the floor and closed himself inside the adjoining bathroom.

What had I done? Why were my foolish actions destined to break all of our hearts?

I awoke to the sound of the piano drifting through the walls and wrapping its gentle melody about me. Given his heartbroken and hasty exit earlier, I would have expected his music to be angry, harsh and fortissimo, yet this wasn't that at all… This was a lullaby.

I quietly dressed, attempting to lace my corset from behind and failing, opting instead for Erik's discarded robe. I silently crept to the music room where he sat on the piano bench with his back to me, absorbed in writing notes on a page. We'd been here once before and it hadn't gone well. I'd betrayed his trust like the curious child I had been. Once again, I walked up to him as he resumed playing.

"It's beautiful."

"It's unfinished."

"It's a lullaby," I said, feeling the hint of a smile curve my lips.

"Yes…"

"But I thought you had regrets…?"

"Regrets? Christine, how could I regret? You aren't the only one to want a family, you know."

"I didn't realise…"

"Well, you never asked me. And I never allowed myself to dream."

He'd been good with children, hadn't he? I thought back to his tales of Persia, how he'd made toys for the daroga's sickly son, how, when we'd taken dusky strolls about the city, he'd amused street children with simple card tricks before pulling extortionate amounts of money 'from their ear' and then handed it over to them with the words "this must be yours".

"Children don't judge. Children see a masked man and, though curious, accept the answer that I'm a magician without further questions. Unlike adults, they do not assume the worst of me."

I remembered when I'd stolen his mask away. Caught between the curiosity of childhood and the desire to take action that adulthood brings.

"I'm sorry, Erik." I was apologising for so much.

"Do you regret?"

"No."

"Sit with me, Christine," he said, never taking his gaze from the piano. "If we are to succeed at this, then you must know that I have every intention of being a part of our child's life, even if they never know my true identity."

"But how, Erik?"

"When they're old enough to learn discretion and not tell tales of whom their teacher is then music lessons, hopefully. If they don't express an aptitude for that, then architecture, medicine, science. Perhaps even magic tricks or the art of ventriloquism."

"And will that be enough for you?"

"It is more than I ever thought I'd have."

For a while we sat together as he played and I listened. I hadn't wanted to leave him but regretfully I stood when I read the clock on the mantle.

"I should go, Raoul will be home shortly."

I saw him tense but he stood with me and took my hand. "Will you let me know?"

"Yes of course. I'll return in a month. Either with news or…or to try again."

"Is it wrong of me to want both outcomes?" he smiled sadly and I couldn't help but smile too.

Once I was fully dressed he led me back up to the world and paused at the gate, the bright sunlight attempting to pierce his dark domain.

"I love you, Christine."

I smiled, "I know you do. Promise me something Erik? Never stop saying it."

"Never, for it will always be true. Until next month, Christine." He smiled and kissed my cheek before turning back and letting the darkness swallow him. There was something different in his eyes, in the way that he walked more lightly.

Hope.