| ~ The Wedding Thief ~ Chapter 1 "I remember that day that I found you, love..." ~ The Gipsy Kings "And in the night, you are my dream, you're everything to me." ~ Carlos Santana |
| It should have been the happiest day of her life. After all, it was her wedding day. Any other woman would have been thrilled to become the wife of the handsome Vicomte de Chagny, the most eligible bachelor in all of Paris. But Christine Daae felt no excitement, only a growing sense of anxiety and despair. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, watching numbly as her maid laced her into the magnificent wedding gown that Raoul had chosen for her. It was a beautiful dress, edged in lace, and flattering to her figure, but Christine was not impressed. For all of its flounces and yards of white satin, it paled in comparison to the exquisite bridal gown the Phantom had once given her and asked her to wear. At the thought of her former maestro, Christine closed her eyes and tried to hold back the tears. The memory of Erik blazed through her like a fierce fire that would not die, and Christine could not help but be drawn to the all-consuming flame. She remembered their last encouter together and the explosive intimacy of their first kiss. It seemed like something out of a dream, going from the horror of Erik's unmasking and threats to Raoul's life to Christine's choice to stay with Erik. She hadn't known it at the time when she moved towards him. She simply knew she had to kiss him, to free them all from the madness that was crashing down on their heads. And suddenly... she was free! Free from fear, from indecision and obligation. Her soul sang with Erik's and she could not stop herself from kissing him, from embracing him and loving him as she knew he should be loved. She loved him! It was suddenly so clear to her. She loved him! But Erik had turned away from her, refusing to look at her as he freed Raoul and ordered the Vicomte to take her away. “Why?” she asked aloud, still wondering why Erik had sent her away. She knew he loved her, and yet he would not allow her to stay with him. "Why?" she whispered again, this time choking on her tears. “Are you all right, Mam’selle?” her maid asked, looking up at her with concern. “Oh…pardon me, Suzette,” Christine sighed, brushing the tears from her eyes. “I think I'm just a little nervous. Could you give me a moment alone?” “Of course.” Her maid bobbed a curtsey and left the room. Grateful for the solitude, Christine turned back to her reflection and gazed at her virginal image. Was this how she had looked to Erik that night he had asked her to put on the wedding gown? She moved closer to the mirror and tentatively reached out to touch the cool surface with her warm fingertips. She knew it was foolish to think that Erik could find her through any mirror that she passed, but she could not help but wonder if he would miraculously call to her from the glassy depths. She held her breath in anticipation and listened in vain for the sound of his exquisite voice. Alas, the room was silent, and Christine saw only a reflection of herself, standing alone in the grand church that Raoul had chosen for their wedding day. * Deep below the Paris Opera House, the Phantom of the Opera was just returning to his dark abode. He hastily lit a few candles and unfurled the newspaper that had been clutched in his gloved hand. L’Epoque was his key to the outside world, and he had been combing it for weeks, anxious for news about his beloved Christine. But when his eyes fell upon the wedding announcement, his entire being crumbled in despair. "The Vicomte Raoul de Chagny to wed L'Opera Garnier's diva, Christine Daae." Erik caressed her name with his fingertips and offered a soft moan. “Christine…” He stared at her name for an eternity, remembering every moment he had ever spent with her. It was foolish to torture himself so. He knew it was an impossible love. Such a monster as he deserved to be condemned to an early tomb, but not Christine. She was a child of the light and belonged in the world above. She did not deserve to perish in the darkness with him. And yet she had come to him when all hope seemed lost, and she had given him a kiss, something no other human being had ever done. Erik was astounded by that gift and knew then that he must steer her towards a better life than he could ever give her. Raoul would be right for her, Raoul would introduce her to a world Erik could not. And so Erik let her go. He had expected to die the night she left. How easy it would have been to simply crawl into his coffin and be done with life! But his foolish heart continued to beat on, stubbornly refusing to give him the release he sought. At first, it boggled him - his resistance to death - but then he felt a strange intuition take hold. He sensed that his dealings with Christine were not quite over, and he succumbed to hope that she might come back to him. He dreamt of her, felt her stirring within his breast, and was almost certain that she was missing him as much as he longed for her. But the marriage announcement in L’Epoque confirmed that Christine had chosen her path and had turned away from the Phantom forever. “You fool,” Erik sighed and scolded himself. “You never should have let her go.” He massaged the tears from his throat and looked helplessly about. The loneliness of his home seemed to close in on him, lending to the despair and claustrophobia that threatened to overwhelm him. He needed some air, to be somewhere else tonight. Erik cast the newspaper to the floor and grabbed his hat and cloak. He dressed in haste and then fled from his lair like a giant bat taking flight from its cave. Perhaps, he thought, the night wind would remind him of why he was still alive. * Christine walked down the aisle, noting how crowded the church seemed to be. Somehow she didn’t remember inviting so many people, but then Raoul had taken care of most of the wedding plans. He had been so excited that Christine did not wish to interfere, so she stepped back to let him take the lead. She caught sight of Meg and Madame Giry, and smiled. At least some of her friends were there. As if in a dream, she continued to march down the aisle, barely aware of the familiar tune that accompanied her steps. The music seemed to carry her right to Raoul’s side, and the priest began to talk of love and the bonds of marriage. Christine felt faint. She did love Raoul, but she knew that a place in her heart would always belong to Erik. Was that right? To marry one man when she still loved another? She heard the priest ask, “Do you Raoul de Chagny, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? Do you promise to love, honor, and cherish her in sickness and in health for as long as you both do live?” “I do,” Raoul answered firmly. He turned to Christine and gave her a smile. “And do you, Christine Daae, take this man….” The priest’s words faded from her ears and Christine’s vision swam. She turned to the man next to her and thought for a moment that it was Erik. He looked so handsome, and the realization startled her. He was without his mask, the right side of his face marred and disfigured while the left side held some semblance of normality. Christine was so moved by this vision that she was tempted to reach out and touch him. He no longer frightened her, but enticed her. There were two sides to this man, Christine knew, and his face was merely a symbol of that. She could accept his face, accept him, and she smiled at the epiphany. “Christine?” Raoul asked, and Erik's image suddenly disappeared from the diva's mind. Christine awoke from her fantasy with a start and saw that Raoul was standing before her, awaiting her to answer the priest’s question. "I...." Christine glanced about in confusion and fumbled for an answer. Suddenly, a scream rose up from the pews as a dark cloaked figure appeared on the second floor of the church. He was a menacing mystery of a man, dressed all in black from the tips of his shoes to the mask that covered his face. He acknowledged the scream with an impatient flip of his cloak and then leapt from the balcony, swinging from a rope that was fastened to the rafters. He flew over the crowd like a living gargoyle, and sped towards Christine, his black mask gleaming in the candlelight. The bride opened her mouth to speak, but could not make a sound; her eyes were fixed on the man who was speeding towards her. Raoul tried to reach out to her, but the masked man rushed by the Vicomte and grabbed Christine with ease. Then he continued his flight, using the momentum of his swing to return to the second floor of the church. He secured the rope behind a pillar, and then hoisted Christine unceremoniously over his shoulder. People were pointing up at him and shouting in terror, "The Phantom of the Opera! He has returned!" The masked man turned his back to the crowd and waved his hand, creating a blast of smoke that billowed from the floor and clouded the view. Raoul ran up the steps, darting through the smoke to the spot he had last seen Christine and her fearless abductor. He choked and gasped on the ashen cloud, but pressed on, determined to face the Phantom and to fight for the woman he loved. Several of his groomsmen followed him, ready to join in the battle, but as the smoke cleared, they found that they were quite alone. Christine and her captor were gone! ~ Chapter 2 ~ |
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