Fan Fiction ❯ Sleeping Beauty ❯ Sleeping Beauty ( Chapter 1 )

YES! I finally finished the Prequel to Breathe No More. This fic is dedicated to maskedpainter for being the ONLY one to bother reviewing Breathe No More. The Fop died, what more could you people possibly want? A happy ending? Please. I rarely do them, and when I do, I certainly don't give them to certain characters (coughcoughChristinecoughcough) As I've said many-a-time in various reviews, I only put up with her as far as I did because Erik seemed to want her. Uh-uh. That shit's OVER. Erik's got me now, and I ain't having that spineless bitch around to ruin our happiness. (Maybe one day I'll write a fic to show how we met.)

 

And yes, I did give her much more of a backbone in my stories. I can't help it. I write as best I can from original character's POV's, but a bit of myself ALWAYS seems to push it's way through.

 

No I am not a psychopathic killer.

 

I love everyone who reviews, flames, criticizes, or leaves imminent phan-girl moments.

 

This Prequel was inspired by Evanescence's “Sleeping Beauty”, and is included at the end of this fic.

 

DISCLAIMER: Phantom of the Opera is not mine. It will never be mine. However, I do have an Erik, my current REAL-LIFE boyfriend, and there will be no sharing. Ever.

 

Sleeping Beauty

Prequel to “Breathe No More”

By: Ceris Malfoy

 

Christine could not help but look back over the dark and empty waters, once so mysterious and warm and soothing, and now holding nothing for her but cold. She had chosen him, she had chosen him, and he had sent her away to live out the rest of her days in the Light. A half-hearted sob escaped her throat. Imagine the irony of it. She who had wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of her days in the arms of someone like Raoul, now wanted nothing more to do with him.

 

She had heard her angel's saddened voice as it echoed through the underground caverns and even now she shivered.

“Are you cold, darling?” The words were warm and concerned, but she was not fooled. He was not happy. He knew she had chosen the other, and it did not bode well for her that he knew so.

 

She eyed her childhood friend, a tear sliding down her cheek. “No, Raoul. I am ...relieved.” She couldn't look him in the eyes. The lie did not ring true, and they both knew it. She was not relieved to be leaving, but she was terrified.

 

Oh, why could she not have just refused to answer? At least then Raoul would be dead, and she could have admitted her love without chance of being sent away, for where else would she go? Or better yet, she should never have agreed to do that damn opera. She should have done what her heart had told her to do, and ran.

 

Erik would have followed her, this she knew. And she could have admitted everything.

 

But now...

 

Raoul drew her stiff body next to his. “My Little Lotte,” he breathed, a hint of anger threading the warmth of his voice.

 

A small part of her could but help but be amused. He had nothing on the Phantom when it came to intimidation. Nothing. But the saner part of her mind knew that Raoul was bigger and stronger than her, and had been trained to fight. There would be no way to win, especially without a pissed Phantom to aid her.

 

A finger dragged her chin towards him so that she stared into his eyes. “Don't lie to me, Little Lotte.” A brief smile crossed his features. “You never were any good at it.”

 

`You don't know what I'm capable of now.' The thought entered her mind unbidden, and she ruthlessly shoved it down. Like it or not, Raoul was all she had now.

 

And, if nothing else, she knew how to survive.

 

Fear flooded her eyes, or so she prayed, and she answered quietly. “I'm sorry, Raoul. I'm so confused....” She allowed her voice to trail off as a light flashed in Raoul's eyes. Triumph flooded her soul as she watched Raoul examine the idea and bite.

 

`Hook. Line. And Sinker.'

 

He studied her, no longer as angry. “Come, then. Maybe in the morning things will seem clearer to you, my sweet Lotte.”

 

Irritation flashed through her at his continuous refusal to say her name. Her real name. Why could he not see that she was anything but that child? Little Lotte was gone and grown. Christine was all that was left.

 

But, no. She could not say that. Not and stay within her excuse for her behavior.

 

`Of course, silly girl. Blame it all on the one you love. That surely will make things right.' The contempt and sarcasm of her inner voice for once she could not shush. And, truth be told, she did not want to.

 

Sighing mentally, she resigned herself to her fate, and looked forward to a night away from Raoul.

 

At least then she could plot uninhibited.

 

2 MONTHS LATER

 

They were to be married as soon as possible. The tears still flowed; even now she could still feel his cold anger when he found that she had become pregnant. She laughed bitterly. What did he expect, having taken her at least three times a night since they had emerged from the underground.... She ruthlessly pushed those thoughts away once again. They had been returning with alarming frequency lately, and she did not know what to make of them.

 

Her hand rested for a moment on her still-flat stomach, and a feeling of pride filled her; lifted her soul higher than her music ever had. `I'm to be a mother.' She fondly stroked the stomach, unaware of Raoul coming into the room and studying her.

 

A fond smile crossed her lips and she started to hum. `What should I name you little one? It must have its own unique sound, its own melody, as I'm afraid that the sound of your name will be the only one your father will allow.' She closed her eyes, her face a visage of contentment, though darker thoughts plagued her. `It is such a shame that your father was not another....'

 

6 MONTHS LATER

 

Premature.... the baby was premature. How could the tiny thing that now rested in her arms be considered premature. It was beautiful and perfectly formed.

 

The door slammed open and the midwife left, knowing instinctively that she did not want to witness this carry out. Christine merely stared solemnly at her husband, the father of her sweet, sweet child. No matter how angry she was with Raoul, she would never regret the little life-form that she now held.

 

The little boy.

 

“Raoul,” She whispered. He was angry, but from what, she did not know. “Come see your son.” She watched as he sneered, but he did come closer and studied the angelic being that she held out to him. “I though of naming him myself, but I knew you would want to decide for yourself if it was a male....”

 

She trailed off, warmth and exhaustion making her voice soft.

 

He said nothing, just stared at the child. Then he spoke. Christine was too tired and too elated to hear the emptiness in his voice or see it in his eyes. “Go ahead and name him, dear.”

 

She joyously spoke the name she had decided on six months ago. “Gustave Andarial de Chagney,” she whispered reverently. She never saw the anger that flared in her husband's eyes.

 

He forced a smile. “Rest, my sweet Christine. I'll send for the nursewife to feed the child.”

 

Christine gave a soft, sleepy smile and fell deep into the land of slumber.

 

She dreamed of soft candlelight and a crimson sea and a tiny, tiny white baby.

 

6 HOURS LATER

 

At first, she was not aware of what had awakened her. She had sat for a few moments, disoriented and sore and sleepy. She blinked.

 

And a deep dread settled into her heart. Her baby. Something was wrong with her baby.

 

Quickly grabbing a robe and tying it haphazardly around her waist, she rushed off, out of her room and through the halls, her feet and beating heart leading her more surely than her mind ever could. She ran, her blood pumping, faster and faster `til everything was a blur.

 

But she could not match the speed of the growing dread within her heart.

 

Her baby. Her boy.

 

She ran, and when she could no longer run, she jogged. She did not remember this house being so big.... She angrily brushed the thought aside. Her baby needed her.

 

She turned sharply left, and stopped.

 

The color left her cheeks and her heart stopped. Her eyes grew rounder and rounder, her mouth opened, but no sound escaped.

 

A breathless sigh and no more.

 

The entire floor was awash in a crimson sea; warm and wet and so inviting that she almost stepped towards it.

 

It was the dread and fear in her heart that told her not to.

 

She could not comprehend what she was seeing. She didn't want to. Her brain refused to process the scenes. A broken moan escaped her lips, and Raoul turned sharply from his kneeling spot in the crimson sea. Fury, pure and simple, directed itself at her, and she stepped back from the onslaught. Her gaze darted from him to her baby, so white, so pale, and back again.

 

“My...Gus--?...Raoul, what have you--” She could not even get the words out of her throat. The world swam alarmingly, and distantly she thought she heard the sound of the Siren singing its haunting melody....

 

Raoul rose, and in his hand the knife glinted sharply in the moonlight. Despair and anguish and sheer terror flooded her as her mind finally gave in and allowed her to understand. Scream after soul-tearing scream escaped from her lips as she scrambled away from her husband, terror making her brown eyes seem black and devoid of light.

 

Raoul paused and stared at her, that terrible emptiness settled firmly on his features. “Christine, stop it.” She did not. “If you had only born a girl, I would not have minded her parentage as much. But no child of his will be named my heir, sweet Lotte.” A growl slid out as she continued to scream.

 

Sighing, he stalked up to her faster than she could move away and hit her sharply with the hilt of the knife.

 

Like a little doll she collapsed, that scream mercifully descending into darkness.

 

Raoul studied her and then the room, shrugged, and left. He would fetch her when he was ready to deal with her.

 

2 HOURS LATER

 

Christine woke, and this time there was no disorientation. There was no thought. There was no feeling. Her eyes were devoid of any sign of life and she moved jerkily towards the corpse of her baby, her sweet child.

 

That her husband had not cleaned up the mess, or even moved the corpse did not spark even the most basic of emotions within her empty heart. It was over.

 

Her trembling hand caressed its frozen flesh and then determinedly grasped it and held it to her breast.

 

“Hush, little Gustave, be quiet for mommy,” she said softly in a little sing-song. She stood shakily and allowed her feet to lead her out the door. “We must be so quiet now, sweet childe. Daddy will not let us go, elsewise.” She giggled softly, frozen hand caressing equally frozen flesh.

 

Christine de Chagney nee Daae disappeared from her husband's mansion, mumbling nonsensical things and singing half-formed lullaby's to a corpse and was never seen again by Parisian society.

 

Delusional
I believe I can cure it all for you, dear
Coax or trick or drive or
drag the demons from you
Make it right for you sleeping beauty
Truly thought
I can magically heal you

You're far beyond a visible sign of your awakening
Failing miserably to rescue

Sleeping Beauty

Drunk on ego
Truly thought I could make it right
If I kissed you one more time to
Help you face the nightmare
But you're far too poisoned for me
Such a fool to think that I can wake you from your slumber
That I could actually heal you..

Sleeping Beauty
Poisoned and hopeless
You're far beyond a visible sign of your awakening
Failing miserably to find a way to comfort you

Far beyond a visible sign of your awakening
And hiding from some poisoned memory

Poisoned and hopeless
Sleeping Beauty

 

Pretty good for something written within two hours on a sugar-high, I'd say. As no one but maskedpainter reviewed for Breathe No More, I have no clue as to if anyone has a problem with how I characterized the characters. There is going to be two more fics in this series. The next one that will be out is from Erik's POV/ his story after he disappears into his secret passage, and includes the mystery of how Raoul and Christine ended up in his home without his knowledge, and apparently have been there for a VERY long time. (If you have no clue as to what I'm talking about, I would seriously considering re-reading Breathe No More. The other one is going to be the finale, and will wrap up alot of the loose ends.

 

Love ya's!

 

Ja ne,

 

Ceris Malfoy