Seal My Fate•Phantom of the Opera Fanfiction

Chapter 5: The Vicomte

Why so silent, good readers? Did you think that I had left you for good?

Have you missed me, good readers?

I HAVE WRITTEN YOU A CHAPTER!

Okay, okay, I'm done. Here's today's chapter, I hope you enjoy it!

Also, of course, The Phantom of the Opera, sadly, does not belong to me.

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Christine

The candlelight flickered on the rose. The stem was extremely long, with a few leaves attached toward the top, but it had no thorns. The ribbon tied to it was black as night. It's supposed to be, I guessed, because of the Music of the Night.

"Little Lotte let her mind wander."

I smiled at Raoul, who was holding a bouquet of roses that I knew he'd stolen from the managers. All in good spirit, of course, they were all meant for me anyway.

"Little Lotte thought, 'Am I fonder of dolls or of goblins or shoes?'"

"Raoul!" I laughed, immediately answering the riddle in my head, dolls.

"Or of riddles or frocks?"

"Those picnics in the attic..." I continued. Riddles, I thought.

"Or of chocolates?"

"Father playing the violin"

"As we read to each other dark stories of the north."

"'No,'" I smiled, breaking away from the game as he and Christine must have done frequently when they were little, "'What I love best,' Lotte said, 'is when I'm asleep in my bed... and the Angel of Music sings songs in my head.'"

The Angel of Music sings songs in my head.

I had to admit, I felt like a fake. Raoul knew the drill from reciting it dozens of times with me as kids. I knew it from watching a movie dozens of times. He knew me, and he thought I knew him, but I really didn't. For the first time in years, I felt like Emma, the phangirl, posing as Christine—posing as someone she wasn't.

"You sang like an angel tonight." Raoul pulled me into a hug, the kind of hug you would give an old friend. I returned it, for politeness' sake, before returning to that Christine-y trance that was so easy to fake, I supposed because half the time I wasn't faking it.

"Father said 'when I'm in heaven, child, I will send the Angel of Music to you.' Well, Father is dead, Raoul, and I have been visited by the Angel of Music."

"Oh, no doubt of it," he chuckled, clearly thinking I was joking, "and now, we go to supper."

"No, Raoul," I called as he stood and moved toward the door, "the Angel of Music is very strict."

"Well, I shan't keep you up late," he quipped.

"Raoul, no."

"You must change! I'll order my carriage. Two minutes, Little Lotte."

"No. Raoul, wait!"

He was gone before he had time to process what I'd said. There were a number of things wrong with that conversation. In addition to the fact that he had completely missed the fear in my voice, he'd ordered me to change in two minutes. Two minutes! How on Earth was a Victorian-era woman supposed to change in two minutes?

That was when I heard something. It was very faint; I wouldn't have noticed it if I hadn't been listening for it. There was a near-silent click from the door, and I knew it was locked. I sighed and proceeded to undo the many layers of the beautiful but increasingly tedious dress that I wore. I figured I might as well change. In the off-chance that I managed to join them for supper, I had a feeling they wouldn't accept "the Angel of Music locked me in my room" as an excuse for not changing.