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Christine's POV
What do you say to the man who has just laid his heart on the line, pleading with you to spend his last
days not alone? I don't know how long I knelt there, staring at my hands, clasped tightly together in my
lap until the knuckles were white. I could feel his gaze, burning-
always burning! -
waiting for my reply.
All I could think about was Raoul and the ring at my breast followed by those pitiful mismatched eyes.
'
I won't beg!'
he had said but every word he spoke in his beautiful voice was a plea to my ears. No, no
matter what, Erik would never sink the level of beseeching. It was too out of character for him, too
dishonorable. Yet here, it sounded as if all his life he had been bracing himself for this moment, the final
rejection, and now that it was time for the end of all things, he would do anything to resist it.
I knew he spoke the truth when he said he had scanty time left to live. Everyday, even over his cool and
collected exterior, I could see the weakness in his eyes, the utter failing of his health. No, it would be a
miracle if he made it those six moths he asked for. I could feel the burning of tears in my eyes and the
streaky wetness as the fell down my cheeks and into my lap. They were not tears at my position in this
tragic tale, the chooser, but at the idea that my maestro
was
dying. No matter what my choice in this, I
would loose him.
"Christine."
Slowly- oh, it was so painful to look at him! - I raised my eyes to his face, only far enough to see his lips.
I dared not look him in the eyes!
"Promise me," he said firmly and it was most certainly not a question. Slowly I nodded and heard him
sigh softly, almost as if he were in pain.
"Then come. We must get you back above for the performance," and he unfurled his gloved fingers
towards me in an attempt to help me off the floor. All I could do was stare at his hand for a moment
before, at his command, placing my hand in his.
It was in such a daze that he led me back up towards my dressing room that I never realized that Raoul's
ring and my crucifix were not around my neck and it wasn't until much later that I even remembered
them at all.
As soon as we came to the space behind the mirror, Erik stopped me and forced my eyes to meet his with
the one of his voice. "You promised," was all he said and he seemed satisfied when I nodded in
acquiescence before working the mechanisms and disappearing.
After writing my plea to see Raoul and sending off the page, I found myself slumping into the chair at my
dressing table, utterly exhausted and more troubled than I had ever been in my life. I didn't even notice
that my dressing room was completely dark. The only thing I knew for certain was that there was no
presence behind the mirror. Erik was a man of his word and would give me until tomorrow night, I was
certain. But what would my reply be?
Oh, how I wish this had never happened! How I had never heard the Angel of Music and how I now would
never be free of him, married or not. Yes, even if I left with Raoul, left Erik behind, I would never be free
of those haunted eyes which burned my soul. Erik, it seemed, would haunt me until the day I die, even if
he was long gone. I longed for my father then, my dear sweet, safe Raoul, and then my world shattered
at the next thought which crossed my mind.
It was as if I had seen a vision. I saw Erik in his armchair by the fire, eyes closed and breathing rather
shallow. His long, bony fingers grasped weakly at the arms and I knew what I saw would come to pass if
I chose Raoul. Erik would die alone. And the utter wretchedness of my situation fell upon me like a
waterfall. All I could hear was the priest speaking to Mama Valerius at my father's funeral.
'
The man died in the best way God has allowed us to past. He did not die unloved or alone.'
These are bitter tears that run down my cheek now and they taste more salty than the ocean.
'
Six months...'
I know what I must do.
When Raoul arrived I had collected myself enough to appear somewhat calm. However when he took me
in his arms, I felt myself tense and pull away. He looked down at me confused as I led him into my
dressing room. No Erik behind the mirror, good.
"What is it, Christine? You said to come as soon as I could," I hushed him with my index finger to his lips
and led him to sit down at the chair. He looked at me even more strangely as I knelt before him.
"Christine, what's wrong?" and I allowed him to trace my face with his fingers before looking him in the
eyes.
"I can't marry you, Raoul," I said quietly as I watched his eyes widen in shock.
"Christine," he babbled at a loss for words, my dear sweet Raoul. "What do you mean? I-" Again, I
silenced him with my hand.
"Please let me speak." My heart broke into a thousand pieces as I watched him nod dumbly in response.
"I mean to say that I cannot marry you now. One day but not now."
"I don't understand," he murmured and then suddenly a dawning comprehension rolled over his face.
"It's
him,
isn't it? Christine, if he's forcing you-"
"He is forcing me into nothing," I interjected and he went quiet again. There was no other way to say
what I was gong to d without being blunt. "I am going to marry him."
"What?" Raoul shouted this time and leapt to his feet, almost knocking me backwards to the floor. I
caught myself and stood slowly, watching his face contort in disbelief. "You can't be serious, Christine. All
you can speak about is how much he frightens you and now you want to marry him! He's manipulating
you, I'm sure of it! He's got you under some sort of a spell!"
"No, he does not, and keep your voice down." It was all could do to keep myself from breaking down into
tears. "It would not be forever, Raoul. He's," and I felt myself stuttering, "he's dying. He's only got about
half a year to live and-"
"You are not a martyr, Christine," he said and I felt myself begin to tremble. This was all so much! "He
came foreword and wrapped his arms around me, clutching me to his chest as I let out a dry sob,
followed by another before I caught myself and pulled away.
"Please, Raoul," I begged him with my eyes and he took a deep breath, stepping one step back. "It is
only for a short time before we can be together. I owe him this much, not to let him die alone."
For a long time neither of us said anything. We just stared at the other in mutual longing yet we were
oceans apart. My eyesight began to blur with tears as he finally spoke. It was in a tone I had never heard
before, defeated and useless and if it were at all possible, my heart shattered even further.
"Why?" It was such a simple question.
"Because he has given me everything," I said and I looked over his shoulder to gaze at my reflection in
the mirror. How pitiful I looked there and I forced myself to continue. It was still empty behind the glass.
"He rescued me when I was in grief for my father, gave me a career, and gave me so much when I
deserved nothing at all. If all I can give him in return is a person to look after him until he is gone, I'll do
it no matter how much it hurts. You do not know what he had done for me."
Another silence followed my declaration but it was different. There was something so final about it that
the room began to feel extremely stuffy and close. Raoul must have sensed it too for he looked at me
once with an expression I could not fathom. I nodded once at him and he walked to the door, avoiding all
contact with me until his hand was at the knob.
"I could not convince you to come away with me," he asked, and his tone was strained. I shook my head
in reply and he gave me a sad smile tat tore at me more deeply than anything else. "When he-" and I
shook my head again. He nodded at me and left, the door closing with a finalizing click behind him.
It was in that moment that I fell to the floor and sobbed for what I had gained and lost.
The performance went smoothly and when I sang, I sang for Erik as I always did. But there was
something more behind it tonight and I think the audience could understand the change. Not once did I
look towards the Chagny box where I knew Raoul was watching, lamenting for what would not be his.
Once I had taken my bows and changed out of my costume, I headed for my dressing room where, as
expected, Erik was waiting for me. As soon as the door clicked shut, the mirror opened and there he
stood, tall and splendid, like a king.
"Come, Christine," and he held out his hand which I accepted without hesitation. I knew my choice now
and I was going to have to live by it.
'
Six months,'
I whispered in my head as we made our way to his underground haven where he led me to
the footstool before his armchair. He left me then and returned a few minutes later with a tea tray,
setting it on the table next to the chair. He looked down at me through the holes in the mask, his
mismatched eyes unreadable.
"You did very well tonight, my dear," and I blushed brightly at the compliment. From Erik, if he had said I
was mediocre, it would still be significant praise.
He turned from me to stare into the fire before speaking in a far off voice. "I thank you for keeping your
promise. I trust you have made your decision." And I nodded. I could see him brace himself for the
rejection, just like the many he had endured before.
Slowly I stood up and walked to stand at his shoulder, staring into the yellow flames that licked the grate.
Closing my eyes, I listened as I condemned myself into hell.
"Yes, Erik, I will be your wife."
The look he gave me was one I know shall linger with me until the day I die. The utter disbelief matched
with unimaginable fear and wonder shook me to the core and broke my heart all at once. He had been so
convinced that I would say no that the concept of my agreeing had thrown him off balance completely.
How terrible had his life been that he had come to expect rejection with everything? I vowed to myself
with that look to never allow him to sense my hesitation. I owed him as much.
I watched as ever so slowly he lifted a trembling gloved hand to my cheek. He hesitated and froze an
inch away from my cheek, not knowing whether or not he had the daring to actually touch me. With
nerve I never knew I possessed, perhaps it was the absolute desperation in his eyes- to think when he
was weak, I was strong! - I leaned into his hand, the skin tingling where his fingers brushed against my
flesh. I could feel his surprise at my boldness, and I believe he took strength in my strength. He traced
my cheek gently before lifting my eyes to meet his. This time they did not burn.
"Do you know what you speak of, Christine? Of what you are consenting to?" his voice was like a beacon
on the sea and I, the boat it was drawing in. How I wish I could lose myself in that voice!
"Yes, Erik," I knew I would wonder later where my strength to face him came from, but for now I was
happy to be standing on my own two feet unaided.
What I was consenting to? No, I did not know and to say that this strength overcame my fright of Erik as
a man would be a lie. I would have to live with that terror if I was to become his wife.
His hands still clutching mine, he led me gracefully over to the footstool in front of his armchair and
lowered me to a sitting position. He stood over me then, a black shadow towering from above, and I
swallowed hard to keep my fright from showing. He looked so dark and powerful that I clasped my own
hands tight to keep from trembling. My bravado was failing and I knew I had to get out of that room
before it completely shattered.
I watched as he opened an empty palm and curled his fingers into a light fist before unfurling them
again. I gasped. In the center of his palm was the single most beautiful ring I had ever seen in my life.
The solitary diamond in the center of the gold band sparkled like a star in the firelight and I realized I
wasn't breathing. Taking a deep shuddering breath I risked a glance at his face.
You could not read the expression because of the mask which covered three quarters of his face but his
eyes were sharp and piercing. It was then I realized that he was testing me, seeing if I would falter here
at the edge. He was testing my devotion and my ideals, my soul. Subconsciously, I knew that I should
resist, go back upstairs to the world of light that Raoul could give to me. Erik was a promise of trials and
intensity.
No, I told myself, you have come too far. Remember your promise. Slowly, maintaining eye contact as if I
looked away I knew I would fail, I lifted my left hand out to him. As if it was a dream I felt the cold band
slide onto my ring finger. Now free to look away at my hand, I saw the diamond glimmer and shine.
"Christine," his voice called to me from above and I lifted my gaze back to his. His eyes were shining with
some unreadable emotion as he held out a hand to help me stand. Face to face, it suddenly occurred to
me what this might possibly mean to both of us. For him, it was his opportunity to possess, to be like a
normal living man. For me, it signified submission and hardship.
I had past the point of no return.
When I awoke the next morning, I was in the Louis-Philippe room tucked safely under the soft sheets.
After he had slipped that ever-heavy ring onto my finger- as I stare at it now the weight of it feels to
break my finger, so lovely but so threatening, just like his voice- he had allowed me to retire to my room,
saying that when I awoke I would be alone in his house.
"I must make preparations," he said as he walked to me to my bedroom door. "I should like to be married
as soon as possible. Perhaps the day after next." I had assented and gone inside, finally away from his
incessant presence. With calm I never knew I possessed, I had made it into the bathroom and had
started the water long enough to slip to the floor, dissolving into tears.
Oh, what I had gotten myself into, and I could not help but shamelessly think of my dear safe Raoul. I
unconsciously wondered if he pined for me the way did for him at that moment. Then I caught myself.
Thinking of Raoul would only further add to my pain and I realized that I belonged to Erik now. Pining
away after a lost love would only make my days harder. I would see Raoul again, I knew, but Erik only
had a short time left. How unfair and cruel of me to long for another when he did nothing but long after
me. If I could not give him my heart, I would at least give him the honor of being the only man I thought
and dreamt about, not mater how vivid the images were.
Numbly I had bathed and gotten to bed, falling into a light sleep with no dreams. And as I sat now
staring at the bindings I had created, I would not allow the regret to strike at me.
It was mid afternoon before Erik returned and I was sitting on the bench of his organ, reading The Birth
of Tragedy. I had never taken Erik to be one for mythology and the books in his very extensive library
only furthered to prove at how wide his intellect traveled.
He had come up behind me, quietly as ever and unnoticed by me until he spoke from over my shoulder,
surprising me. "You'll find that even some of the most criticized work holds the same weight as other the
more well-liked. That story holds a very good image as to what is considered rational."
"I'm afraid I can't understand it, hard as I try," I reply as I realize that I have spent the last two hours
only confusing myself. My lips twitch as I turn to face him. "I'm afraid I don't have the same sort of grasp
for these things as you do."
"Nonsense," and I sense a change in him, one I never thought I'd think I'd see. His attitude was almost
bordering cheerful, a very unErik-like emotion. I felt a surge of conceited pride as I believed myself to
have brought on the change. "Perhaps later I will help you find a book more to your liking than," and he
gestured at the book in my lap, "that."
This is the Erik I adore, accommodating and kind, not enraged or terrifying. However I sense a change as
he grasped my hand before speaking. "I have made preparations for our wedding today," he said and his
tone was wary with hesitation. I tried to hold back from holding my breath. "Can you be prepared to
leave by three tomorrow afternoon?"
"Yes," I reply and his hand clenches mine. Making an effort of my own, I grip his back and offer him a
small smile. This seems to please him as he brings his other hand to touch my cheek, no hesitation this
time.
"Shall I play for you?" he asks and I nod, standing as he pulls the bench away and sits. I kneel on the
floor beside him as he sweeps me away as only he can, the first time in two days that I can truly say I
felt at peace.
Again, the first thing I noticed when I woke the next morning was that I was alone at the house on the
lake. As I sat up on the bed I heard the crinkle of paper and turned to see an envelope resting on my
pillow. There was no doubt as to who it was from, the childish handwriting in blood red ink shouting
loudly off the paper.
My dear Christine,
Please forgive my absence this morning. There would appear to be a tradition in which it is bad luck for
the groom to see his bride on their wedding day. As I have little intention to play with fate, I shall return
at one to collect you. I remain—
Respectfully yours,
Erik
Numbly, I let the paper slip through my fingers to the bed. I turned my attention to the night table beside
my bed where he had laid out a luscious platter of fruit to the dressing table where layers of white fabric
lay calling to me. Draped over the chair was the wedding dress he had made me wear that night. No, it
was not the dress or the veil on the dressing table that made me shiver with fright. Next to the veil, still
on its chain, was my golden crucifix and Raoul's ring.
Oh, how that ring mocked me! - shining brightly in the candlelight. It was a symbol of what I would have
to wait for and of the things I would never be able to give. Finally, it occurred to me in the back of my
mind that Erik had seen the ring and was not here.
It all suddenly fit. He had known all along about this farce and said nothing, excepting my sacrifice while
knowing my heart dwelt elsewhere. The pain I must have caused when he saw that promise ring and I
silently berated myself for being so careless.
The air was so close in this room that it was hard to breathe. I panicked. The need to escape
overwhelmed me as I rushed from the room and through the house. My feet carried me to the fake dock
before I regained my senses.
I fell to my knees, face in my hands yet unable to weep. All I could hear dully was the gently lapping of
the water against the dock. He had placed that ring there on purpose, testing me- always testing me!
And what pained me the most was that I deserved to be.
Slowly I walked back to my room and picked up the chain, watching the glimmer of light off jewel and
metal. Sadly, clutching the chain to my breast, I headed back to the dock, separating ring and chain. It
looked so large in my palm as I turned my left hand over to stare at the ring Erik had given me. So alike
yet worlds apart, Raoul's with hope and Erik's filled with despair. Gripping Raoul's ring tightly in my right
hand, I walked to the edge where water met shore.
I let Raoul's ring go, watched as it soared into the air and splash down to the floor of the lake. I could not
hold onto that ring while married to another man, one who deserved so much more than my pitiful
promise of six months. I could show Erik no happiness, no real affection with constant reminders of the
one I truly wanted haunting me.
Again, I went back to the Louis-Philippe and laid the wedding gown across the bed. Sitting down in the
now vacant chair before my dressing table, I fingered the lace of the veil, so unfeeling that I did not
notice the trail of tears down my cheeks.
I was sitting on Erik's piano bench when he finally came back to collect me. I had spent the past five
hours readying myself for the wedding. My hair was fixed in loose curls hanging down my back, light
make-up adorning my face. The dress had taken some time to get on, with no one to help me in my
corset and do the difficult lacings on the back of the dress. When I had looked in the mirror, I knew Erik
would be pleased. I was beautiful, I knew. But the dress was white, and I was feeling particularly black.
The loneliness I felt as I gazed at myself in the mirror made me want to weep but I held back my tears.
There was no mother fussing over my hair, no maid of honor to comfort my unending nerves. I stood
alone with no one to share my day with, a day meant to to be shared with another. I pitied myself for the
last time before walking out my bedroom door, knowing I would return with another.
I had put off all thoughts of my wedding night. I would not, and could not, think of what would possibly
be when I was already so close to losing my sanity. Whatever happened I would deal with when the time
came, no matter how frightened and repulsed I was.
I did not hear him enter but I felt him freeze a few steps behind me, eyes heated on my back. He was
waiting for me to come to him, I knew, and I would not keep him waiting. Taking a deep breath, I stood
and turned, looking upon my soon-to-be husband for the first time today.
He was beautiful in all sense of the word. His evening wear was more formal than usual, his black cloak
swirling around him. He radiated power, a king of all kings. His posture was tall and proud as ever and
the white three quarter mask he wore to hide his face only made him more mysterious and alluring.
His eyes were hungry as he look upon me, feasting on me in all of my bridal glory. Those two
mismatched orbs, I thought, would never leave me and his breathing was rather rapid as he held out his
hand to me, beckoning.
How to resist him when he commands? You don't. I placed my hand in his with no hesitation as we stood
inches apart. He overwhelmed me and I could do nothing to prevent it.
"You are a vision, Christine," he said to me and in spite of myself, I blushed. Leading my as if in a dream,
he drew me up and out of his lair to a carriage waiting for us outside the Rue Scribe.
I do not know where he took me for the official ceremony nor do I remember the journey there. All I
know was that it was a small church and when he opened the church doors for me, the inside was empty
and sparse. A priest stood in front of the alter, conversing with two elderly nuns. Seeing us enter, he
opened his arms in welcome, beckoning us to come forward.
The only thing that kept me from sprinting out the door was the gentle pressure of Erik's hand in mine
and I swallowed back to urge to sob. Erik gave no outward heed of my struggle but I was sure he could
sense it. To want me so much as to say nothing, even when he knew the whole truth! Still, I fought back
tears.
The ceremony was quick and uneventful. Part of me desperately prayed for Raoul to push through the
doors, saving me from my terrible choice. But he did not come because he did not know and the love and
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