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xoxo
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Chapter Ten: I Have Written You An Opera
Previously,
The Ballet Dormitories, The Palais Garnier Opera House, Paris, France, September, 1894
"What on earth is that?!" Ivy exclaimed as she pointing to the open book that sat between the four girls on the bed.
"Maybe we shouldn't be looking this, especially since Christine has a suitor in her life this will only scare her." Mary said closing the book.
"I'm more scared about what your mother will say to us Meg." Belle eyebrows arched at Meg, who poked her tongue at Belle.
"I'm not scared." Christine protested as she sat down next to Ivy. Her friends all looked at her with disbelief, she rolled her eyes. "Come on it's not that bad…" she trailed off, as Eloise opened up the book again and turned the page.
"You read it Eloise." Mary said looking at Christine who picked at her sleeve.
"Chapter One How does a man pleasure a woman…" Eloise began, Christine eyes widen, and Meg just chuckled.
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The Manager's Office, The Palais Garnier Opera House, Paris, France, June, 1894
Firmin and André sat at their desks, surrounded by scattered papers, their expressions tense. "Vicomte, we need your help," Firmin began, his voice edged with urgency. "If we don't find a way to keep this Phantom appeased, we'll be dealing with another disaster before we know it."
André nodded, fidgeting nervously. "He may be quiet now, but it's only a matter of time before he strikes again. We have to figure out how to avoid angering him, or the opera house will never recover."
Raoul, however, had reached the end of his patience. He slammed his hands on the desk, making both managers jump. "Enough of this Phantom nonsense!" he snapped, his voice reverberating through the room. "There haven't been any notes or threats for months. You're driving yourselves mad over shadows while the rest of us are trying to move on."
Firmin bristled at his dismissive tone, standing abruptly. "Move on? And what if ignoring him leads to another disaster crashing over us or worse? Would you call that nonsense?"
André added, his voice quieter but just as insistent, "We can't afford to let our guard down, Vicomte. He's still here, watching."
Raoul turned away, pacing in frustration, his anger shifting to a more personal pain. Raoul turned away, pacing in frustration, his anger giving way to a deeper, more personal pain. "Christine…" he muttered under his breath, the name heavy with anguish. Firmin and Andre looked at each other confused.
He was furious—at her, at himself, at everything that kept them apart. She wouldn't respond to his notes, not even a polite acknowledgment. Every time he invited her to dinner, she declined, claiming she was too busy.
"Too busy," he repeated bitterly, his voice trembling. It felt like an excuse, a flimsy barrier she put up to avoid him.
No matter how much effort he poured into reaching her, she always seemed out of reach, as though she had built walls around her heart that he couldn't scale. And yet, despite her distance, she was all he could think about. Each rejection cut deeper than the last, feeding his frustration and confusion. Was it him? Had he done something wrong? Or was there someone else who held her attention so completely that he didn't even register in her world? Raoul clenched his fists, stopping mid-pace as a thought struck him like a blow. It had to be her so-called "angel of music." She spoke of him with a reverence Raoul couldn't understand, as if this phantom tutor held some magical sway over her.
"Who is he?" Raoul asked, his voice raw with despair. "Is he even real? Or is he just another excuse to keep me away?"
Neither Firmin nor André responded, too wrapped up in their own concerns to notice his quiet anguish. Raoul clenched his fists, feeling the sting of rejection mingling with the futility of trying to reason with men who believed in spectres. Both in love and logic, he felt as though he were fighting battles he couldn't win.
You will be mine Christine Daaé, this I promise you.
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xoxo
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The Phantom's Lair, Underneath The Palais Garnier Opera House, Paris, France, October, 1894
The white wax of the candles that were placed around his lair melted slowly. Surrounding the two young lovers in a soft glow. She sat close to her angel on the steps of his organ, wrapped in his warm black velvet cloak keeping her warm, as she sewed the hem of her skirt. She discovered over the years that her day dresses and skirts all seemed to be too long for her. Especially when she's walking down the endless stairs and avoiding his traps that led to his lair.
Pulling the strand of dusty pink thread through the fabric of her skirt. She listened to his soft words of his new opera, 'Don Juan Triumphant'. She almost pricked herself when he explained the ending of his opera. "No Erik, you can't have them not end up together!"
"And why not, my firecracker?" He moved from his organ to sit down beside her.
"Ow!" she gasped pulling her thumb to her lips.
"Careful my love." He shook his head and gently kissed her thumb.
"It's tragic, and Aminta shouldn't leave him because of his face."
Erik pulled her into his lap cupping her cheek. "Such a hopeless romantic mon amor." Christine blushed and set her sewing aside, and reached for the music sheet he placed beside them. Erik watched her reaction carefully at her every slight frown, blush and then a gasp. He couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction. "Erik!"
"Yes ange?" He replied with an innocent voice. "I can't sing this."
His eyes furrowed as she shifted in his lap. "Why not?"
"Because-" Erik leaned forward to capture her lips.
"Because…?" he asked.
Kissing her lips again as his hands ran over her flushed cheeks. "Because the only man I want to sing this too… is you." Erik let out a groan as Christine moved to straddle him.
"Christine," he protested. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "I want you. Erik."
Erik growled, squeezing her hips. "Christine ange, I want you too. But not like this…" He signed when her hand went to his cheek, her touch electrifying on his skin before her fingers slipped into his hair. She then pulled away from him and looked down, and with a slight nod she whispered. "I'm sorry."
Erik frowned and grabbed her waist, pulling her against him. "Oh mon ange what has brought this on?"
Her eyes looked down watching her play with his signet ring that he wore on his right pinkie. He tilted her chin to meet his gaze.
"T-the other night, my- my friends were having a discussion, on what happens between a man and a women… And… and… I'm worried that you'll—"
I'm worried that you'll find me disappointing. That I'll let you down…
"No!" He growled. "Now you listen to me. Christine Charlotte Daaé."
He said pulling her closer into his lap. "And listen carefully. Don't ever apologise about your desires. Especially if there about this." He gestured between them, as her eyes staring at the patterns on her skirt, he sighed. "Oh mon précieux ange would love nothing more, then to take you to my bed and ravish you til dawn."
Christine cheeks flushed at the thought of Erik touching her. How wonderful it will feel to finally have that connection of their bodies becoming one. She felt his hands moved from her hips to her hot cheeks.
"But I want to marry you first and make you my wife before I can make you mine… physically." He gave her a slight chuckle. Christine turned to move away from his lap, but he held tight. "Wait a minute. I didn't say you could leave."
She let out a giggle, as he pulled her stockinged legs across his lap, running his hand over her warm cheek. "I have to know, what did your friends say about what happens between a man and a woman?"
Christine pushed her face into his shoulder. "I'm embarrassed to say… I couldn't get passed the first paragraph, without blushing." She blurted out.
He gave a smirk. "That bad huh, I would of thought you could handled it considering all you read, is romance."
She slapped his chest playfully and he laughed. Cupping her cheek, looking deep into her eyes. "I love you Christine. Never forget how much I love you."
She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, rubbing his unmasked cheek. "I won't."
"Good. Now shall we rehearse?" He stood pulling her to her feet.
"Let's begin where Aminta enters… and maybe I'll consider changing the ending."
Christine grins and takes a deep breath and begins to sing.
No thoughts within her head but thoughts of joy!
No dreams within her heart but dreams of love!
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xoxo
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Christine Daaé's Dressing Room, The Palais Garnier Opera House, Paris, France, October, 1894
Erik stood patiently in her room staring at golden wallpaper. "Erik I'm ready."
He turned to see her dressed in her white nightgown. So perfect.
"Erik what are you doing?" She gasped as he bent slightly, picking her up in his arms.
"I'm simply carrying my future wife to bed."
Christine blushed as he carried her to the bed. Pulling up the coverlet and tucking it around her.
He pressed lips on her forehead, "Goodnight mon magnifique amor."
"Goodnight ange." she whispered breathlessly.
He wanted to marry her. It was simple.
But it was a matter of questioning where and when. Erik knew Christine was different from other girls. For one thing she excepted him for who he was, and Erik treasures her for it. Not only for his horrible past but also his terrible deformity. And the other was that she simply loved him for who he was, scars and all.
But he didn't want her to just have a ring with a massive diamond in it. No she would hate it as it would drag her down. No she deserved something that for was made just for her. Simple but perfect. Just like when he made her locket. It wasn't heavy or massive no it was the perfect size and weight. And when he would catch her admiring it or simply just playing with it between her fingers. She would smile with a blush and thank him for it.
Once he return to his home, he went straight to his organ and sat down, looking at his signet ring, that he wore on his right pinkie finger. Remembering how Madame Giry gave to it to him for his 21st birthday. And how he enjoyed watching Christine fascination over it.
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Antoinette handed him a small box. "I know you may not be my son. But I like to think you are apart of my family and a protector and an angel to Christine. So here is a reminder that you are loved and protected by me always…" Erik looked at the small ring in the box, and kissed Antoinette on the cheek. "Thank you my friend I shall cherish this always.
Christine, who was just eighteen grinned at him, as they looked at the stars on the rooftop. "What did Madame Giry give to you for your birthday ange?"
"Love, my sweet Christine." Christine looked down at his right hand and kissed his ring. She giggled at him.
He pulled it off looking at the dark black stone that sat around the thick gold platinum band. Erik sat it next to his parchment paper and began to sketch.
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xoxo
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Translations:
mon précieux ange = my precious ange
mon magnifique amor = my gorgeous love
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Songs:
The Point Of No Return: Andrew Lloyd Webber
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xoxo
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