2Managed to whip up something quick for Halloween 2023. Rather dark. Combination of versions here, but Erik is still nuts, so at least that's the same, I guess.
Thanks for reading! As always, reviews are welcomed and much appreciated!
Our story begins-and ends-like so many others before it.
With a promise.
I could not say with certainty that my precious angel would ultimately come as she had vowed. But come she did, one cold, blustory evening, clutching a cloak tightly around her and escorted by the damnable Persian. When the girl raised her eyes to him in question, he simply indicated my direction with a raised hand and turned away, but not before throwing a disdainful glare my way. Weak as I was, he knew I had seen it, knew what fate he was leaving the girl to face alone.
Ha! If he thought one reproachful thought crossed my mind, then he was mistaken. He, the ever-present thorn and irritating moral compass. I knew in many years of acquaintance, he was hopeful to find even one redeeming quality in my dark genius, but alas, it was a fool's errand. Perhaps he had finally accepted that fact and had accepted that I would be left to my own fate and all its devices, even if he had attempted to save my soul countless times before.
With the Daroga departed, I shift my attention to my second guest- the only one my wrecked heart still beat for. Her approach was near silent, with tentative footsteps across the carpet to my bedchamber. As she drew near, I swore I could feel the Opera reignite as it had not since her departure. Even now, stories below, I could sense the candles glowing brighter, the orchestra kicking up a lively tune, the ballerina's steps sharpening with precision. It knew she was back where she belonged, where she was most at home.
My own traitorous heart beat quicker in welcome as she drew to my side, letting the hood fall from her face as she beheld me for the first time in months. Her eyes creased with worry at my sorry state, even as her feet stopped a distance away, as if they couldn't bring themselves to close the space between.
"Christine.." I managed, attempting a feeble smile for her benefit. "Come closer, my dear."
She did, though I pretended to ignore the slight grimace that shuddered over her at her approach. "Hello, Erik," her angelic voice wafted over my senses, the entire Room lifting to attention. "I came as soon as I was able. Your friend.."
"That cursed daroga is no friend of mine," I spat, a sudden burst of energy causing Christine to flinch back. Her wide eyes blinked back at me as she took in my state and I calmed myself, allowing my eyes to drift shut. "Although he did a great assistance for escorting you here today and for that I suppose I will be forever in his debt."
She swallowed hard at my bedside, the candle glinting of the diamond given to her by that insufferable pup she deluded herself in love with. The Opera groaned a warning and I forced my eyes away. Time would set things right. It always did.
Still, she fiddled nervously with the damn thing as she asked, almost hesitantly. "Erik….are you.."
"Yes, my darling. Your Erik is no long for this world," I confirmed as her eyes widened again and the Floor trembled with anticipation. "The very reason why I no longer mind owing the daroga a debt. The dead cannot repay after all."
Her throat worked, swallowing the lump that was no doubt forming my morbid eulogy. Still, my Christine found her strength, standing taller and resolute at my bedside. "What would you have me do?"
I gestured to the table next to the bed, indicating a drawer that should be opened, which she did, drawing an object from its depths. "Grant a dying man's wish, ange. Wear my ring. One last time."
Her gaze darted from me, pathetic and imploting, to the ring I had given her all those months ago. Still, she did as I asked, slipping the gem onto her right hand, until I stilled her with a firm grasp of my fingers. "Christine!"
Her eyes coupled with mine instantly, brown to gold as her lips parted at my abrupt gesture. "Your left hand, darling. On the proper finger. As it should be."
She stared back, incredulous at this brazen modification, debating whether or not to accept the dare that lay within. Did she care for me enough to remove the boy's ring, even briefly? To allow me the indulgence of seeing her willingly exchange one for the other and allow me the triumph of my stone on her hand, where it always should have been?
Where it truly belonged?
I saw her hesitance, watched the war play out across her beautiful face, but my Christine was nothing if not faithful. She had promised to attend to me in my final moments and if this was what I wished, then so be it. My smile grew manic as she all but wrenched that noble bastards' gaudy rock from her finger and replaced it with my own. A simple, understated beauty- just like the woman now bound to me for eternity.
Quite literally, to my utter joy.
The Opera responded in kind, flaring the lights high and the instruments loud for the return of its resident star. Christine jumped back, searching my face for answers to the strange events. "What is happening, Erik?"
It's quite simple, really, I responded, steepling my fingers and letting my lips curl away to reveal teeth. "You're keeping your promise. You were always going to be mine, Christine." A dark chuckle escaped as she eyes went wide, a gasp caught in her throat as her efforts to remove my ring from her finger became futile. "Now, you will be."
Her dark eyes brimmed with tears, even as she narrowed them to a glare. "What have you done?"
The Opera quivered now with anticipation as I pushed myself to recline on my elbows, the effort great, but worthy to be closer to my eternal bride. She still struggled to remove the ring that bound her to me, to us. "Do not fight it, my dear. You are where you were always meant to be."
Her breaths were quick, shallow, but stopped as she heard the snick, snick, snick of the Opera as it took what it was owed, eyes wild as she bolted for the nearest door, only to find it permanently locked. "You can't do this to me!" she cried, tears streaming down her porcelain cheeks as she made her way back to my bedside, grasping my hand. "Please"
"It was not I, Christine. The Opera called you back. You came willingly."
" Because you asked it of me. A promise to a dying man- a mad one apparently"
I did not dignify her last comment with a response. "It seems we all do what we feel we need to. But there is always a choice. And you made yours the moment you accepted my ring on your finger."
Her cries echoed as she fled the room, searching fruitlessly for a loophole to the promise that had damned her, but I knew very well she would never find it.
For, I, too, was fulfilling a promise of my own, one bargained months before in attempts to escape the murderous mob. As Christine and the boy fled, my words echoed throughout the cavernous underground, a plea to whatever deity was listening. "Help me. Whatever it take, help me"
The Opera answered, providing comfort and refuge as it always had. The very work of my hands, infused with my spirit, answered the call of a desperate monster, even returning the ring my bride had rejected to my possession, and in return, I pledged to never leave its grounds as I had with my previous constructions. The Opera was my creation, built with my genius, my blood, my sweat and tears. It was me and I would forever belong to it in return.
And with my eternal living bride by my side, I could at last face death with a medium of joy.
For Christine belonged to me and although she might now quite realize it yet, both of us belonged to the Opera.
As I lay back down and closed my eyes, the girl's screams echoing to quiet, sobbing hiccups, I felt the Opera set itself quiet around me, settling with a sigh, and content with the assurance of promises at last fulfilled.