40It's here! It's finally here! This story is BACK! All thanks to LadyLunaTwilight who reminded me over and over again about this story, and I'm greatful she did. As
This story isn't necessarily going to be the same as the last time I wrote it, because I'm going to make it bigger, better, and AWESOMER! So here's the prologue, showing Erik as a spoiled brat and all that good stuff. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this chapter! Not the Phantom of the Opera or Beauty and the Beast!
The Beautiful Rose
~Prologue: The Enchantment~
"Erik," the young teen glared at his book, annoyed, as he felt a familiar presence lingering behind the chair he sat on.
"Don't ignore me," the man chastised as he moved around the chair to stand in front of the boy.
"Go away, Daroga," Erik snarled as he slouched further into his seat. The Persian sighed, crossing his arms.
"Erik, your parents have requested to see you," he said curtly. Erik scoffed.
"They're away for most of the year on business and then ignore me when they're home, and I am to oblige to their wishes?" he snapped sarcastically.
"They're your parents-"
"No, parents are around to raise their children."
"…Erik, please go and see them," the teen peeked his amber eyes over the book in his hands and studied the Persian thoroughly. Daroga shifted, uncomfortable under the Frenchman's gaze, feeling as though the boy could see right through him.
"Daroga, you have something on your mind – speak freely," Erik finally said, looking back down at his book. The Persian sighed softly as he thought over his words.
"…Erik, I understand you have had a rough upbringing with your parents not around, and you've taken upon yourself to take any matters into your own hands. I want you to remember that there are other people in this mansion that you can go to for guidance, such as myself," he finally answered.
"Servants?" Erik asked bewildered, looking at the man in shock. Daroga bit his lip to prevent himself from snapping back at the boy for his insult.
"Yes, but still people. You may be the son of a Comte, but that doesn't give you the right to look down on others as though you own them. Erik, your behavior has been getting out of hand, and I am worried you will direct your disrespectful manner to someone who will not take it lightly," he explained sternly. Erik stood up from his chair, giving a dominate smirk as he did so. Amber eyes locked with jade as Erik stared the Persian down.
"I want to see them try," he dared before slowly turning and strolling out of the grand library. Listening to his footsteps echoing in the acoustic corridors, Erik headed in the direction of the dining hall. He couldn't help thinking of how much the Persian worried about him. 'He might as well be my mother with all the worrying he does. But I'm fifteen, I don't need a parent anymore,' he thought, sighing slightly.
The young vicomte stopped in his tracks when he overheard voices – his parent's voices – not too far ahead. He took in an unsteady breath to prepare himself before slowly proceeding into the dining hall. Walking through the already open doors, his amber eyes scanned the room wearily to find the two adults at the other end of the table talking loudly amongst themselves.
"Erik! About time, you spoilt brat," his mother yelled when she noticed him enter, saying the last part in a growl.
"You wanted to see me?" Erik asked as politely as he could muster.
"Nadir has informed us that you have not been keeping up with your studies," his father replied sternly. 'That Daroga…can't keep anything to himself,' Erik cursed, thinking of an excuse for his lack of attention in school work.
"I have been busy in other matters," he lied, holding a strong gaze against his parent's scolding ones.
"In doing what?" his father asked, his tone sounding like a dare.
"…In…my music," Erik answered slowly.
"Music?" his mother practically screeched. "You're wasting your bloody time on that hideous racket!"
"I believe we can use this to our advantage, my dear," his father hushed his spouse in a comforting voice. The woman looked at him curiously as he turned his attention back to his son.
"Well, since you have been spending so much time with your music, you must have created your own score by now. We should like to hear it," he continued slyly. Erik's eyes widened in surprised as he searched through his mind for a logical comeback to his father's words.
"It's…not ready yet," he tried.
"Oh really? Well then, we would like to hear the finished piece by the end of this evening, or I will have the servants remove anything remotely related to music from this household. Am I clear?" his father asked darkly. Erik opened his mouth to retaliate, but quickly shut it, knowing there was no point in arguing.
"Yes, father," he growled lowly. With a dismissing nod from his father's head, Erik quickly turned on his heal and heatedly exited the room. Angry thoughts filled the teen's head as he tried to think of a way of producing an original score of music in minimal time. He may not have spent all of his time away from his studies with his music, but he had played a great deal and had even decided to try and compose his own opera. But hardly any of his rough drafts were close to what he knew his parents were expecting of him.
"Damn that Daroga! When I find him I swear I will make him pay!" he growled venomously, storming back to the library in hopes the servant was still there.
"I'm sorry, but I cannot let you in without the Count's consent," Erik paused when he heard the familiar elderly voice of Madam Giry nearby. Curious as to whom she was addressing, he followed the sound of her stern voice to the front entrance.
In the threshold of the Mansion's entranceway stood a very elderly woman. Her face was covered in thick wrinkles, old torn clothing covered her frail body, and her weak posture was hunched over, only being supported by the walking stick in her hand. Erik scrunched his nose, disgusted, as he looked from the ugly old woman to the younger Madam Giry, who stood blocking her way.
"What is going on?" he asked angrily as he walked over dominantly towards to the two women, crossing his arms as he did so.
"Erik!" Madame Giry exclaimed surprised, not hearing the younger enter the room.
"Is this the vicomte?" the old woman asked, motioning weakly to the male.
"I am, and who in God's name are you?" Erik snapped rudely.
"I am just an old traveler. Please, Messier, I would not bother such a fine household if the weather had not been so dreadful. The wind is harsh and the rain is falling like stones to the ground!" she pleaded, giving a small cough at the end. Erik looked behind the woman to the weather outside.
"That's because it's hailing," he corrected with a roll of his eyes. "We do not give out rooms to strangers, please leave,"
"B-But Messier! Please! I-I have nowhere else to go! My home is a journey hours away!" she begged. As quickly as she could she pulled an item out of her raggedy pocket. "H-Here! Take this! I-It's all I have!"
Erik looked down at the item distastefully. The woman held a beautiful red rose, glistening with round raindrops on its blooming peddles.
"I don't want your flower. I must ask you to leave immediately, or I will remove you by force," he ordered firmly, leaving no room for argument. Madam Giry gave him an incredulous look, but stayed silent against his wishes. The old woman looked at the ground for a moment, her body shaking. Erik thought for a moment that the cold had finally got to her and she was going to collapse, but soon the sound of dark chuckling could be heard.
"You…deny an old woman sanctuary? How proud can one human be…so heartless," she whispered to herself.
"What are you mumbling about?" Erik snapped impatiently. The old woman slowly raised her head so that green eyes met amber. A youthful glint showed in the emerald irises and a sudden feeling of danger struck Erik's heart. Before he could react a burst of light and force emerged from the woman, knocking the vicomte and Madam Giry off of their feet.
Erik quickly scrambled to his feet, but before he could look at the old woman a hand clasped around his throat and lifted him high into the air, his feet dangling above the ground.
"I have never seen such a cold hearted creature like you before," the woman said darkly, her voice seeming to echo with a deeper tone. Erik desperately tried to pry her fingers away from his throat as he choked for air. Looking down at the woman, his eyes widen in shock and fear when he saw that she was no longer an old woman, but a beautiful young lady, dressed in colorful flowing robes.
"Erik!" Madam Giry cried out in panic, but was unable to move from her position on the ground due to a strong force holding her down.
"I have seen creatures with black hearts turn to light before…whether or not you shall have the same fate is another story. I shall put your soul to the test for your cruel treatments to others. You have until your twenty-first year to find someone to love you for your dark heart, or else you will suffer to live the rest of your miserable life looking on the outside the same way you look on the inside," the woman explained, her hand tightening around the teen's vocal cords. Erik sputtered, trying to gasp for air but his throat not opening enough for the air to go through.
The woman began mumbling Latin enchantments under her breath. At first nothing seem to have taken effect but then a white light blinded the vicomte and sent his body into a series of writhing pain. Erik cried out as loudly as he could for help, but he could barely hear himself over the sound of his blood pumping in his ears.
"Someone help!" Madam Giry called out desperately, watching in horror as her master was slowly being transformed into a hideous creature. Footsteps were heard entering the room as the Persian ran in.
"Antoinette, what is-" he froze in his spot as his eyes widened at the scene in front of him. "Erik!" he yelled in alarm as he ran to teen's aid. The woman's eyes briefly looked at the Persian's as the man was suddenly knocked to the ground by an unseen force. The woman hummed, content.
"I am done here," she said to herself before tossing Erik's limp body towards the Persian.
"Erik," the Persian panted as he slowly sat up from being knocked down before quickly crawling over to the unconscious teen's body. Rolling Erik onto his back, the Persian's jade eyes widen in terror. The boy's face had been changed drastically, the skin yellowing slightly as it stretched over the bone to reveal its skull like shape. His cheeks and eyes sunk into the skull lightly and there was a hole where the cartilage of the boy's nose used to be. For a moment the Persian thought the woman had drained the life out of the vicomte by his thin skeletal looking body, but the shallow breathing assured him that this was not the case.
"Madam here will inform you the conditions of my curse," the woman informed the Persian, motioning to Madam Giry who was too frightened of Erik's new appearance to go to his aid.
"Who are you? And why did you do this?" the Persian yelled angrily at her.
"I am an enchantress, and your young vicomte can tell you the rest. To encourage him to find the requirement of ending his own curse, I shall place a curse on everyone in this castle that has been an influence on his life. When he lifts the curse, your own curse will also be lifted," she continued.
"W-What?" Madam Giry sputtered. Another bright light appeared from the enchantress and both the Persian and Madam Giry braced themselves against the spell. But they found that no pain reached them. Looking down, the Persian's breath caught in his throat as he could see the floor through his own leg. His whole body had become transparent, as well as Madam Giry.
"Hmm…it looks as though almost everyone in the castle has been transformed in the same way as you," the enchantress informed. "All servants…interesting how the Comte and his wife had not changed,"
The Persian looked at her in shock as she turned to leave. "He only has until his twenty-first year to find my conditions…but I will extend your curse's deadline until his twenty-second year so that if he fails to lift his own curse, he can still lift yours," the woman continued before walking out of the open door.
The room was silent as Madam Giry and the Persian's eyes met in dread.
"…What on earth happened…?" the Persian slowly asked.
A/N-Poor Daroga, always gets dragged into Erik's mess. Well, I hope you enjoyed it! Next chapter will of course be with Christine, so hopefully (hopefully) it will be up soon. Reviews?