AN: Hello all!
I have been working on this book for quite a long time (writers block is a real pain) and my upload schedule will be very hectic, so I have decided to upload the chapters of this story in chunks. The first chunk will be somewhat unsatisfying for true Raoul haters. Christine is the victim in the original novel and that is because of the period - thus I have decided to write this staying as close to Victorian social order as possible. (The rich in this series are simply insufferable here - that's been pretty fun to write, honestly!)
This is still an E/C fic, even though it begins with an R/C ship. Given Christine's background, I firmly believe it would have been very hard for her to adjust to Raoul's lifestyle and ranking - technically there were no "real" Vicomtes at this time, but the direct lineage still held weight so you get the picture. As for the E/C ship, I have been in this fandom for about 13 years, so my true opinions on it have changed. Erik letting Christine go is the best possible scenario. It is the first step in him regaining trust in humanity and the first step in letting Christine be a free agent in life. I think I love their relationship so much because it is unconventional and it is realistic in that it does take time to heal from abuse (hurt people hurt people, after all, though this does not condone Erik's actions in the novel because real life is different from fiction - I love contrapoints video on twilight for that hehe).
Without any further ado, here is The Veiled Heart.
The air in the house by the lake was thick with an oppressive silence, broken only by the distant echoes of dripping water and Erik's labored, almost plaintive breath. His madness had drained him of vigor, leaving him a shadow of his former self as he gazed upon the tear-stained countenance of his beloved, mingling his own silent tears with hers. He touched his forehead where her lips had so tenderly pressed a kiss, and would have wept anew had he any tears left to shed. The dim light from the lantern at the dock cast eerie, wavering shadows on the walls, intensifying the sense of foreboding that permeated the cavernous space. Christine stood near the edge of the underground lake, her heart pounding furiously within her chest. Raoul was at her side, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist, as if fearing she might slip away from his grasp and into the darkness forever.
Erik stood before them, his masked visage a canvas of unreadable emotions. His yellow eyes, dark and piercing, inspired a tumult of feelings within Christine's heart, though she could scarcely name them. For a moment, the trio was enveloped in a suffocating silence, the weight of unspoken words pressing heavily upon them. At length, it was Erik who broke the silence. His voice, a mere whisper, barely audible yet laden with deep, aching sorrow, filled the space. "Christine…" he sighed, his gaze shifting momentarily to Raoul, "boy… I grant you your freedom. You may go."
Christine's breath caught in her throat. She had never envisioned this moment would come to pass, yet now that it had arrived, she found herself torn between relief and an inexplicable sorrow. "Erik…"
"It is only for your happiness that I make this decision, as much it hurts your poor, unhappy Erik..." Erik interrupted, his voice betraying the exhaustion that had claimed him. "I cannot keep you here against your will. It is not right. You deserve to be free. You have shown me as much through your kindness, my dear." He glanced at Raoul, his eyes narrowing slightly before softening again as they returned to Christine. "All I ask is that you remember me, if only a little."
Christine took a hesitant step forward, her eyes brimming with tears that glistened in the dim light. "Erik, I will never forget you. You have given me so much, and I... I wish things could have been different."
Erik's lips twisted into a sad, wistful smile. "As do I, my dear. As do I." He turned away from them, his shoulders slumping as though burdened by an immense and invisible weight. "Go now. Please. You deserve the happiest of lives..."
Raoul, sensing the finality in Erik's words, tenderly drew Christine towards the waiting boat, which would ferry them across the dark expanse of the underground lake. Christine hesitated for a fleeting moment, her gaze lingering upon Erik's solitary figure. Her heart ached for him, torn between the ties of compassion and the beckoning call of her newfound freedom. She feared for his fragile spirit, dreading the possibility of his succumbing to the despair of their parting, as he had oftentimes threatened. With a heavy sigh, she turned her attention back to her dear Raoul, whose steadfast promise whispered of sunshine and liberty. With a heavy heart, she acquiesced, allowing Raoul to guide her towards the boat, knowing well the safety and predictability he offered. Raoul, her anchor in the stormy sea of her emotions, was what she needed at that moment. And so, with a silent prayer for Erik's solace, she surrendered herself to Raoul's care, allowing him to lead her across the waters.
As the boat glided over the still, somber waters, the cavern seemed to grow quieter, the rhythmic sound of the oars gradually fading into the distance. Within Christine's tumultuous mind, emotions churned like the swirling currents beneath them. She stole one final glance backward, watching as Erik's silhouette was swallowed whole by the enveloping darkness.
The boat thudded against the stone shore, and Raoul extended his hand to assist Christine onto solid ground. Together, they traversed the labyrinthine passages that ascended towards the surface, guided by the faint glow of the lantern Raoul held aloft. With each step, the oppressive weight of the underground lair lifted, replaced by the comforting warmth of the world above. Christine clutched the key Erik had bestowed upon her, a tangible reminder of the journey that lay behind them and the threshold they were about to cross. Though a small voice within her pleaded for her to turn back, to seek solace in the depths she had just departed, she silenced it with resolute determination. This was the path she had chosen, or perhaps, the path chosen for her. And though doubts lingered in the recesses of her mind, she pressed forward, guided by the uncertain promise of a new beginning.
Emerging from the shadowed confines of the underground realm, Christine drew in a deep, steadying breath, relishing the crisp embrace of the fresh air as it filled her lungs. The first blush of dawn painted the horizon with hues of crimson and gold, a breathtaking tableau that stood in stark contrast to the oppressive darkness they had recently escaped. With a determined air, Raoul beckoned to passing carriages, his gaze briefly alighting upon Christine, resplendent in her scarlet wedding attire, her countenance an inscrutable mask concealing a maelstrom of emotions. He harbored a silent hope that the world above ground would serve as the balm needed to heal his beloved's wounded spirit, to grant her the semblance of a normal, contented existence.
At last, a carriage halted before them, the driver's demeanor somber as he regarded the unconventional pair. Raoul gallantly ushered Christine into the waiting carriage before joining her, a silent sentinel at her side.
"To the Château de Chagny, if you please," Raoul instructed the driver, his voice firm yet tinged with a note of uncertainty.
As the carriage rattled along the cobblestone streets, Christine sat in contemplative silence, her thoughts drifting inexorably back to Erik. Despite the tumult of conflicting emotions that churned within her breast, she found herself mourning for the enigmatic figure they had left behind in the depths below—a man whose love had been both fervent and tragically doomed. She wondered, with a pang of remorse, if she would ever truly be able to forget him.
Sensing her inner turmoil, Raoul reached out, enfolding her hand within his own. "We are free now, Christine," he murmured softly, seeking to reassure her. "Together, we can embark upon a new chapter—a life unfettered by the monster's hand."
Christine nodded, though her heart weighed heavy within her breast. "Yes, Raoul," she replied, her voice scarcely more than a whisper. "We are free." Yet, even as she spoke those words, a lingering sense of loss trailed behind them, a silent testament to the indelible mark Erik had left upon her soul. And so, as the carriage bore them ever closer to their sanctuary, Christine could not shake the haunting notion that a part of her remained forever ensnared within the dark recesses of Erik's lair.
In the hushed confines of the carriage, as it rattled along the cobblestone streets toward the de Chagny estate, Raoul and Christine found themselves enveloped in a solemn silence, punctuated only by the rhythmic clatter of hooves against the pavement. The soft glow of lantern light cast flickering shadows across their faces, lending an air of intimacy to their conversation.
Raoul, his countenance etched with concern, broke the silence first, his voice a gentle murmur that seemed to dissipate into the dimness of the carriage.
"Christine," he began, his tone tender yet tinged with apprehension, "I cannot help but feel a heavy weight upon your heart. Are you not glad for your freedom?"
Christine, her gaze fixed upon the passing scenery beyond the carriage window, offered a faint, melancholy smile in response. "It is only... him, Raoul," she replied, her voice barely more than a whisper. "My thoughts are consumed by the man we have left behind."
Raoul's brow furrowed with concern, his hand reaching out to gently clasp hers within his own. "Erik," he murmured, the name falling from his lips like a curse. "His specter looms in my memory as well, darling. But we mustn't allow his flavor to obscure our bright future."
Christine nodded, her gaze softening as it met his. "You speak true, Raoul," she conceded, her voice tinged with gratitude.
Raoul's eyes sparkled with affection as he squeezed her hand gently, his expression one of unwavering devotion. As the carriage trundled along the winding road, they found solace in each other's presence, their shared resolve casting aside the lingering shadows of the past. The sun finally cast its bright rays upon the landscape, illuminating the path ahead as they journeyed toward the sanctuary of the de Chagny estate. Upon their arrival, the imposing façade of the château greeted them, its grandeur a testament to centuries of familial legacy.
Raoul assisted Christine from the carriage with tender care, his arm encircling her waist as they ascended the steps to the threshold of their new home. Once inside, the quietude of the manor enveloped them, the echoes of their footsteps reverberating against the polished marble floors of the entryway. Christine's gaze swept across the opulent surroundings, a pang of apprehension stirring within her breast at the prospect of navigating the unfamiliar terrain of aristocratic society.
Raoul, ever the stalwart companion, offered her a reassuring smile, his eyes alight with unwavering support. With a nod of gratitude, Christine took comfort in Raoul's steadfast presence, her hand finding solace within his own as they ventured forth into the labyrinthine corridors of the estate. As they settled into the grandeur of Château de Chagny, Raoul took it upon himself to introduce Christine to the dedicated staff who ensured the smooth operation of the de Chagny household. With a sense of genuine warmth, he led her through the labyrinthine corridors, each step imbued with a palpable sense of anticipation.
Their first stop brought them to the bustling heart of the estate's culinary operations, where Pierre, the chef, presided over the culinary domain with an air of practiced precision. Raoul's voice carried across the kitchen as he introduced Christine to the master of the culinary arts, his words infused with genuine admiration for Pierre's culinary expertise. With a flourish of his chef's hat, Pierre greeted Christine with a genial smile, his culinary creations a testament to his unwavering dedication to the de Chagny household.
Next, Raoul guided Christine to the stately foyer, where Henri the butler stood poised with an air of quiet dignity. Raoul's voice resonated through the cavernous space as he presented Christine to the venerable butler, whose years of service had earned him the respect of the entire household. With a graceful bow, Henri welcomed Christine into the fold, his steadfast demeanor a reassuring presence amidst the opulence of their new surroundings.
Their journey continued as they made their way through the labyrinthine corridors, encountering Marianne the maid as she diligently tended to her duties with quiet efficiency. Raoul's voice echoed through the corridors as he introduced Christine to the diligent maid, whose unwavering dedication to her craft ensured the pristine upkeep of the estate. With a warm smile, Marianne extended her hand in greeting, her gentle demeanor a testament to her unwavering commitment to the de Chagny household.
Finally, Raoul led Christine to the secluded chambers where Genevieve, her lady's maid, awaited her arrival eagerly. A sweet woman Raoul had hired not even a week after their engagement at the Bal Masque, a delicate bird much like his own fiance. With a gentle knock upon the door, Raoul announced their presence, ushering Christine into the inner sanctum of the household. With a welcoming smile, Genevieve greeted Christine with open arms, her expertise in matters of style and grace an invaluable asset to the young bride.
As Christine tenderly embraced the dedicated staff who formed the sturdy backbone of the de Chagny estate, a profound sense of gratitude enveloped her being like a comforting shawl on a chilly evening. Yet, amidst the warmth of their welcome, a faint tinge of guilt lingered at the periphery of her consciousness, a silent reminder of the tumultuous journey that had led her to this opulent domain. While she yearned to seek solace amidst the splendor of her new surroundings, her heart was not solely awash with anticipation for the promising future that lay ahead alongside Raoul.