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xoxo
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Chapter Six: The Music Of The Night
Previously
The Phantom's Lair, Underneath The Palais Garnier Opera House Paris, France, June, 1894
As the lake came into sight, Antoinette takes hold of the lantern. "This, my dear is where we part, for the night. He will return you to your room later tonight." Christine nods as Antoinette places a kiss on her forehead. "Will you be alright returning above?" Christine asked.
"I'll be fine cherie, I've got my staff," Antoinette reassures her. Stomping it on the ground, making Christine jump as it echoes all over the lair.
"Alright then, goodnight, Madame Giry."
"Goodnight, Christine." Christine watches as Antoinette turns to leave and walks back up the stairs. Turning towards Erik's gondola noticing that the candles around the lair had been lit. Carefully entering the boat, grabbing the oars she began to row towards her angel. As she got closer and closer, the gate rose, as if it knew who she was. The sight of the familiar rocky cavern, where they've spent an endless amount of hours of singing, talking and laughing. She will always feel at home here. When she docked the boat at the bank. That was when she saw her mask-lover, waiting for her.
Christine…
And she shivered at his voice, placing her cold hand into his warm one.
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xoxo
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The Phantom's Lair, Underneath The Palais Garnier Opera House Paris, France, June, 1894
She felt two strong arms lift her off the boat. Instantly wrapping her arms around her Phantom's neck and leaned her head against his broad shoulder, closing her eyes as he carried her along the shore. "Are you too tired to sing, ma belle?" Her Angel whispered as he sat on the settee holding her in his lap.
Trying to suppress another yawn she opens her chocolate eyes to meet his emerald ones. "No, I could never deny my angel of music," she whispered.
"My poor ange."
She's had one hell of an exhausting day, first was her unexpected encounter with the Vicomte, though she did want to speak to him about his note. Then playing the pageboy, a role he did not approve of for his Angel. Then walking down the endless staircases of the opera's labyrinth to see him at groaned at that thought. Christine opened her eyes, looking at him curiously. "I should of pick you up myself, my love. I'm sorry."
"Erik, it's alright. I'm fine, I'm actually glad you didn't. Madame Giry and I haven't spoken properly for a while, it was good to speak to her again. Here, take me to your organ I want you to play for me." She pulled off his mask, kissing is right side gently, as he carried her to his organ, placing her down as she stood beside him, closing her eyes as his music filled her soul.
Nighttime sharpens,
Heightens each sensation
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination
Silently the senses abandon their defences
Slowly, gently,
Night unfurls its splendour
Grasp it, sense it
Tremulous and tender
Turn your face away
From the garish light of day
Turn your thoughts away
From cold unfeeling light
And listen to the music of the night
Close your eyes and
Surrender to your darkest dreams
Purge your thoughts of
The life you knew before
Close your eyes,
Let your spirit start to soar
And you'll live as you've never lived before
Softly, deftly, music shall caress you
Hear it, feel it, closing in around you
Open up your mind,
Let your fantasies unwind
In this darkness which
You know you cannot fight
The darkness of the music of the night
Let your mind start a journey
Through a strange new world
Leave all thoughts of
The world you knew before
Let your soul take you
Where you long to be!
Only then can you belong to me
Floating, falling,
Sweet intoxication
Touch me, trust me,
Savour each sensation
Let the dream begin,
Let your darker side give in
To the power of the music that I write
The power of the music of the night
Christine begins to tremble as she loses her footing. Erik rushes to catch her as she falls into his arms, knowing that his music had overwhelmed her, he walks them directly towards his room, placing down on what will soon be her side of their bed. Taking off her satin slippers he gently pulls her back up into arms, sitting behind and e pulls off her robe, before gently placing her down into the pillows, pulling the covers of her.
You alone can make my song take flight
Help me make the music of the night
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When Christine wakes, she immediately notices her surroundings, she smiles remembering how her angel carried her to bed. This is what our future holds. Rising from the bed, donning her robe and satin slippers, she exited out of his room. Descending down the little steps, and notices that Erik is composing at his organ. "I remember there was mist. Swirling mist upon a vast, glassy lake..." Erik glazes at her, smiling and continued to write. Remembering her words from nearly two years ago when he first took her down here.
There were candles all around
And on the lake there was a boat
And in the boat there was a man
She stood behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders, rubbing them gently, before turning his deformed side to her, smiling as she caressed it. "Who was that shape in the shadows? Whose is that face in the mask?"
"Your angel of music, who loves you so." He replies. She gazes down at her satin slippers, her curls fall onto her face, and his hand reached to cup her chin, lifting her face to gaze back at his.
"Oh, I must be a sight!" Referring to her messy hair.
"A beautiful sight. Do you require some assistance?" gently brushing a few stray curls from her face. "Do you mind?"
"Of course not, I've always envied those who brush your hair." Offering his hand, to her they walk back into his room, where she sat at her dressing table, he smiles as she offers him her hairbrush. Before noticing her music box was set next to it. "Erik, why is my music box here?" Erik takes her brush from her, kneeling beside her. "The Vicomte seemed very curious about your singing in your dressing room, I naturally took it so he would get his prying hands into it." Christine nods in understanding.
"Thank you for keeping it safe." as she opens the lid, the sound of their song plays once more. Erik, now standing directly behind her, taking the brush he ran it through her auburn hair, as it cascaded down her back, tumbling down in its little brown ringlets. He leans forward as she tilts her back, meeting each other's lips. Erik pulls open one of the draws, pulling out a satin black ribbon, pulling back to focus on her hair. He begins to braid it, and Christine lets out a gasp, their eyes met in the mirror.
"What is it, my love?"
"I didn't know you could braid." Erik laughs nervously, "I learned from watching Antoinette braiding yours and Meg's hair over the years." Christine smiles, at that thought. "Perhaps one day you could braid our daughter's hair."
Erik swallowed nervously. A daughter? Children? Did she want to have a child with me? Does she not know what the dangers of a child being brought into this world as a deformed child? It would ruin everything we've fought for!
Erik?
I refused to put her or our children through what I went through.
Erik, my love return to me.
"Erik, my angel." Cupping his face, his cloudy emerald eyes finally focus on her concerned chocolate ones. "Christine," he choked, clearing his throat, "Do you mean it? You want to have a child with me, even though my face is-"
"No, I'm stopping you right there, Erik Destler!" Her eyes flared, and his little firecracker was back. Pulling him down, holding his head firmly. "Now you listen to me. Don't you ever think that our child won't be loved or be perfect because they will be."
"But Christine my face." he protested. "If you think I'm going to turn aside from you and our child because of that, then you monsieur are wrong. We will love our baby no matter what, he or she looks like because there is nothing I would want more than to have a child created out of our love. Do you understand me, Erik?"
He smiled, "Yes my little firecracker, I understand."
"Good." She replied leaning up, kissing him soundly.
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Christine Daaé's Dressing Room, The Palais Garnier Opera House Paris, France, June, 1894
Christine and Erik stood before the mirror, Christine laid her head against his chest, while he stroked the curls. "Now I'll say goodnight to you, my love and I'll see you in the morning." He whispered.
"Stay."
He sighed in defeat, How could he deny his Angel? "Alright, mon bel ange I'll stay."
Swooping her up into his arms and carrying her to the bed. Christine kept her head snuggled to his shoulder. Laying her down, he then proceeds to pull back the covers. Her chocolate eyes watched as he quickly removed his cape, jacket, waistcoat, and shoes. Before joining her on the bed, pulling her close he whispered.
"Goodnight, ma belle."
Her head was resting on his chest, feeling it rise and fall with every breath. Softly gliding her fingers across his chest. His arm was wrapped around her waist, holding her to him. "Goodnight, mon ange." She murmured.
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xoxo
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Songs:
The Music Of The Night: Andrew Lloyd Webber
I Remember.../Stranger Than You Dreamt It: Andrew Lloyd Webber