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No Easy Way	By : secretlysecretly Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 7568 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Chapter 36

A little over a week had gone by and he had not yet seen her. She had not returned to him to tell him it was all a sick joke; no note had been delivered to him to announce a visit; she had not even sent one of her servants to inquire on his condition. He smiled to himself, a bitter smile that had the annoying habit of curving his lips in a sarcastic smirk every time he dwelled upon this new turn of events in his life.

He found it ironic, to say the least, that he had allowed himself to believe he had finally found his fairytale ending. The Princess who had kissed the hideous frog, turning him into Prince Charming with the soft touch of her lips upon his own… He knew he could never qualify for the role of Prince Charming; that was the place for men who were the exact opposite of what he represented. Men like Raoul de Chagny and Olivier Dervaux. Men who were perfect in every aspect of the word; both externally as well as in character. Men who didn’t raise their voice, didn’t make ludicrous demands, didn’t become infatuated with women who were so out of their league, men who would never even think of keeping the woman they were infatuated with by their side despite her obvious resentment. Men who could offer the woman by their side everything her heart would desire.

Erik had never been one of those men. He had gone through life thinking he would eventually find his other half in the face of a woman who would be able to see past his inherited deformity. He had gone through life studying, developing his talents, observing the world around him, all the while searching for that missing part which would make his life whole.

Once he had thought he had found that in Christine Daae. Enchanted by her glorious beauty, he had allowed himself to hope that by becoming her Angel of Music she would stay by his side when he would reveal himself to her. He had been set on compensating his own lack of charm with her grace; conceal his horrendous inflection with her astonishing appearance.

He had submerged himself so far in his delusions that he had even hoped once he would reveal himself to her, she would profess her disinterest in his external appearance and accept him as her teacher, mentor and companion in life. A companion to share her dreams and aspirations with, as well as their common love for music.

How sorely he had been mistaken. Even if the Viscount de Chagny had never entered their lives, Christine Daae would not have settled for anything less than what she currently had. A perfect spouse who would make all female heads turn at his immaculate appearance, a man who loved her enough to be willing to trade his life for hers, a noble who had enough riches to make all of her friends green with envy at the trinkets he could buy for her.

It had not been the girl’s fault that she had fallen for the dashing Viscount; any woman in her place would have chosen accordingly. A young, handsome, wealthy Viscount versus a bitter, hideous, compulsive thief living beneath the Opera House? There was no comparison really, there had never been a chance for him. Deep inside of him, he had known it all along.

Why then had he allowed himself to make the same mistake twice? He had stepped into the same type of emotional dead-end, hoping the second time around would be different. Why would someone like Marianne who had a million times Christine’s assets settle for anything less than perfection? Why would she ever choose her repulsive neighbor over the knight in shining armor who rushed to her side in the face of Olivier Dervaux?

It would seem he had a knack for falling for the wrong women. Perhaps he instinctively yearned for a perfect woman to disguise his blatantly flawed existence. Of course Christine had turned out to be far from perfect. No woman could ever claim to be immaculate when she pursued a fling with a man other than her husband less than four years into her marriage. No self-respecting human being would plot for the demise of the man who had been her sole companion through the painful years of her adolescence.

But Marianne… his Marianne was all he could ever have dreamt of in a woman. Passionate, outspoken, intelligent, tender, understanding… loving. No! Not loving! Amorous but never loving. He could not allow himself to think even for a second that she had ever loved him. She had satiated her raw passion for his flesh and that had been all! If she had ever felt anything but lust for him, she would not have ended their relationship like this, would she?

She had justified her decision logically enough. She did not wish for her children to inherit their father’s deformity. How could he blame her for thinking like that? He knew better than anyone the torments that awaited anyone who had been born with a less than perfect face. He himself had been scorned by none other than his own mother! He had been put on display for his haggard appearance.

Ridiculed, shunned by all those around him; all, save for a kind-hearted twelve year old ballerina who had taken pity on his torment and had granted him salvation from society’s atrocities by introducing him to the glorious world of the arts. Antoinette and Marianne had been the sole two persons to gaze openly at his deformity without flinching, seeing nothing but the lost boy hiding behind the façade of irony and indifference.

Marianne… she had been so open with him. Giving her body to him, professing her love, letting him bear witness to her jealousy towards Christine. He had allowed himself to dream. To hope that this remarkable young woman would stay by his side through thick and thin. To dream of spending the rest of his life trying to make her happy, giving her everything she so rightfully deserved.

He could not bring himself to feel anger towards her. He could not blame her for wanting to create a family. He could not despise her for wishing to raise children who wouldn’t bear his hellish mark upon their innocent faces. Nobody should ever have to go through all that he had lived. No soul deserved the pain he had been sentenced to since the very day he had been born. No child of his would ever have to face the ridicule he had been subjected to throughout his childhood.

Marianne was right. She had made the right choice when she had decided to end their relationship. She had shuttered his heart, his hopes and dreams, his very soul when she had given him back his ring, but he understood. He was destined to live a life in solitude and, although it would be that much harder to endure the loneliness after having caught a glimpse of pure bliss in an angel’s arms, he would welcome his cursed fate happily if it meant Marianne would lead a content life by her Baron’s side.

He knew he would die a thousand deaths whenever he would think of her in Olivier Dervaux’ arms, sharing his bed and losing herself in her future husband’s arms, but he would not bring her any suffering for not doing the impossible. His dreams of a raven-haired baby with emerald eyes cradled in Marianne’s arms would have to remain just that; dreams…

Raoul de Chagny looked around him with a critical eye as he stepped out of the carriage that had transported him back to his ancestors’ estate. Everything appeared to be the same, nothing out of place, nothing extraordinary. He thought back to the day he had brought Christine to this house as his law-wedded wife and felt his heart constrict in his chest as he made the comparison between the frightened girl who had agreed to be his wife four years ago and the cold woman who shared his bed nowadays.

It seemed to him that the bedroom was the only place where the couple met nowadays. Between the long intervals of time he spent away from home due to his business travels and Christine’s active social life, Raoul rarely met his wife anymore, much less had the chance to converse with her regarding anything of importance. He knew he was being irrational but he sometimes felt all he ever did anymore was work constantly to acquire enough money to cater to his wife’s elaborate tastes while Christine spent her days with frivolous pastimes.

As soon as they had settled into married life, Raoul had discovered that the girl of his childhood, his Little Lotte, had grown up to be a self-centered woman who only cared for herself and the social status her husband’s name and wealth provided her with. She had been automatically accepted into the elite circles of society that would otherwise have snubbed her and had turned out to be quite the social butterfly. Radiant in her youth and stunning beauty, his wife had made him the object of envy from every man over the age of sixteen.

However, the more Christine changed; the more she dressed in elegant clothes and expensive jewelry and gossiped about the subjects with the women of their circle, the more Raoul’s mind was filled with unanswered questions as to the love he had for his wife. When they would return to their home after every ball they attended, Raoul would search endlessly for a conversation topic which would not include his wife’s appearance or the ways in which his wife hoped to dazzle their friends at the next gala.

He had long ago tired of trying to convince her that these people were mere acquaintances and that their opinion of her should not matter as much as it did to her, but Christine was set on making all of Paris fall in love with her graceful charms. She had succeeded in achieving her goal to a great extent. Men thought he was the luckiest man alive and women were envious of her beauty, but the farther Christine submerged into the role she was set on playing, the more the distance would grow between them.

He had tried to make her use her new title as Viscountess to better the life of those around her. To help the poor, to be more lenient to the staff that kept their household running, to devote her time to improving her knowledge of the world around her, to acquaint her friend Meg with a suitable suitor and cater to Madamme Giry’s needs after the elderly woman had fallen gravely ill.

His wife had responded to all of his proddings with lukewarm interest, never taking time out of her “busy schedule” to visit the retired ballet instructor but sending her money and various necessary items, easing her conscience, probably thinking to herself she was doing all she could to keep her sarogate mother happy and alive. However, Madame Giry had not accepted even a franc from the de Chagny household, claiming a friend from afar had been financing all of her economic needs, sending handsome sums of money every month, making hers and her daughter’s life comfortable.

When Christine had questioned the old woman regarding her benefactor’s identity, Madame Giry had refused to reveal it to her, explaining that not even her daughter was knowledgeable of their benefactor’s name. Indeed, the young ballerina had not been able to reveal any additional information to the Viscountess, and the matter was soon forgotten.

When Madame Giry had passed away, succumbing to her ailment and broken will, Christine and Raoul had attended the elderly woman’s funeral and his wife had politely offered to always be there for Meg who was devastated by her mother’s death. Actually, that had proven to be nothing but a fickle promise on the part of the VIscountess for, as soon as the young ballerina had sought some much-needed companion following to her mother’s passing, Christine had more or less turned her back on her one time best friend.

After making several attempts to call on his wife, Meg Giry had discovered Christine had changed immensely following to her marriage to the Viscount. The young woman had grown cold, making Meg feel out of place every time she would visit the grand mansion which was part of Raoul’s vast fortune. As the young Viscount had always been partial to the blonde and her mother, he had confronted his bride, enquiring why she was behaving in such a way towards her best friend but Christine had retorted that she was only looking out for his own good, unwilling to impose on him the gossip that would arise if his wife were to consort with a ballet rat. At the time, her words had rung out to him as logical and he had sought other ways of making young Meg’s life more comfortable.

Finally, he had taken it upon himself to grant the young maiden a handsome dowry and had arranged for her to be wed to an honest young man who had been courting her, financing their voyage to the Americas as a wedding gift and ensuring the couple would have all of the necessary aids to commence a new life in the land of opportunities. However, Christine had often chastised him for squandering his fortune for her friend’s sake and when Raoul had jovially responded that he was helping Meg Giry in memory of her mother who had been much like a guardian angel to them during their ordeals against the Opera Ghost, his wife had sneered at him, informing him that Madame Giry had always known about the Phantom but she had concealed any information regarding the voice she had been hearing for years upon end which belonged to an Angel of Music.

As the memories flooded his brain, Raoul realized he was a fool not to have seen the slow but significant changes his wife had undergone in the mere three years they had been married. He had to accept the fact that his Little Lotte no longer existed. The sweet, innocent girl of his youth had been replaced by a cold woman who had no care for anything or anyone but herself. And although he never would have expected him to betray him in any way, especially after all of the trials they had undergone to end up together, the note which bore witness to her betrayal was burning a hole through his vest pocket.

Indeed, for the first time in his life, Raoul was quite hard-pressed to find excuses for his lovely young wife.

As Raoul stood in the parlor of his home half an hour later, looking at the woman who had become his wife, he could feel his head was about to burst. He had confronted Christine with the note that had been resting in his vest pocket, demanding an explanation from her, hoping she would deny his allegations, telling him it wasn’t her handwriting on that note… Instead, his wife had started to cry hysterically and Raoul could feel his head pounding as he regarded her, desperate for an answer to his silent accusations.

He walked over to the sofa where Christine was sitting, her head buried in her hands as the tears ran down her cheeks and, sitting beside her, reached out his hand to touch her shoulder. Instantly, her head shot up and her eyes met his with venom.

“How could you Raoul? How could you trust that monster and your lovesick cousin over your own wife?”

Raoul felt a hot flush wash over his face at her words. He opened his mouth to speak but Christine raised her hand to stop him and continued in a frenzy.

“I thought you would be happy that I tried to save your precious Marianne from that lunatic and this is how you treat me?”

Suddenly Raoul couldn’t control his temper any longer. He yanked the piece of paper from his vest pocket and, waving it before her eyes, demanded. “How is telling that freak you ‘never stopped thinking of him all these years’ helping Marianne Christine? Do you take me for a fool? These are not the words of someone who is afraid or trying to escape a madman. You prodded him into meeting you, begged him even to take interest in you again!”

He saw her eyes fill with hatred at his words as she yanked the parchment from his hands and ripped it into a hundred little pieces before his eyes. “You are a fool Raoul! If you believe I would ever instigate any kind of bond with that monster, I have nothing more to say to you.” she exclaimed disinterested.

“In that note” he started, pointing to the torn pieces of paper laying on the floor “you all but invited Erik Destler to share your bed. I don’t mind that you ripped it apart Christine, the words are still etched into my brain and they will forever remain there. ‘I miss having someone to talk to late at night… I thought there was a special bond between us… I never want to lose you Erik… Your Christine...’ These are your words Christine; not mine, not Marianne’s nor Erik Destler’s. You came to me less than two weeks ago, desperate that the Phantom was after you again and yet you failed to let me know you were the one that instigated the whole incident. From what I read, it is you who is after your once enamored tutor and not the other way around. Why Christine? Are you bored? Are you keen on exploring that madman’s passion?”

“You really think I would ever offer myself willingly to that monster Raoul? If I wanted him, I could very well have him four years ago! You were there that night when he abducted me and threatened your life if I were not to agree to spend the rest of my life in those dungeons by his side! I was ready to do it you know. I was ready to sacrifice my freedom in exchange for your life! I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing you risk your life for me any longer and even kissed that monster to free you from his murderous wrath. You accepted that sacrifice joyously four years ago. Why can’t you accept the sacrifice that I was ready to make in light of that ogre’s bond with your cousin?” she yelled, her face beet red from her apparent rage.

Raoul was at a loss for words. Suddenly, a faint glint of hope started kindling in his heart. Perhaps his Christine had only intended in saving Marianne from that monster… Her words struck a cord in him and he was by her side in an instant, taking hold of her hands between his. “What do you mean? What happened that made you believe Marianne was in danger?” he inquired desperately, trying to cling on to the hope that Christine was indeed telling him the truth.

“When I saw the Phantom that fateful night at the ball, he was keen on showing me what a terrible mistake I had made in choosing you over him that night at the Opera Populaire. He thought that showing me he was now living in luxury, accepted by Rouen’s high society would make me regret my choice. When I informed him that I am still very much in love with my husband and couldn’t be happier with my life as it has evolved he changed his tactic, trying to make me jealous by openly courting with your cousin.

I was abhorred to see that she reciprocated the shameless flirting he bestowed upon her and tried to reason with him, tried to make him abandon any silly notions he had that I could ever be interested in pursuing a relationship with the man who tried to murder my husband. He shrugged me off, telling me that he no longer had any interest in anything I did or said, and persisted in shamelessly courting Marianne.

I can tell you I was beyond myself with disgust when I saw Marianne not only return his superficial courting, but also regard me with disdain, thinking I was jealous when I warned her about the Phantom’s character. When that fiend realized I was only interested in Marianne’s well-being, he fled the ball enraged, informing me he would take his revenge on you and I by pursuing a love-affair with your cousin.

I was alarmed to say the least and the following morning I tried to reason with Marianne, informing her of Erik Destler’s previous life, telling her it was unwise to believe a word that came out of his mouth. As she scorned me regarding my allegations, professing I was jealous of her bond with that fiend, I became desperate and did the only thing I thought would drive Erik to see reason. I wrote a note of the most amiable nature to him, trying to trick him into seeing me one last time before I fled the Rouen countryside. When he indeed met me that afternoon I realized I had been successful. He professed his undying love for me, telling me that he always knew I loved him.

You know the rest of course. When I told him I was not seeking to rekindle his passion but merely trying to make him see reason, he raged at me, telling me I would never be free of him for the rest of my life. He said I would regret my betrayal and that the best way to make me see the truth was for him to marry your cousin and show me what I was missing all along.” she finished her narration, looking intently into her husband’s eyes.

Raoul on his part was shaken to his core. All that Christine said was now making sense. Her terror, her anxiety over Marianne, the note Marianne had handed him that fateful day, everything was finally making sense to him. He had always known Christine to be a kind-hearted, loving woman but this was beyond even his wildest dreams. If his wife was so intent on helping his dear cousin that she was willing to put herself in harm’s way and face her mad mentor, there could never be any greater proof of her love for him.

Feeling his heart swell with love, he hugged his wife fiercely, silently seeking for her forgiveness and when he felt her relax in his arms spoke again. “Oh my love, you don’t know how much I appreciate your attempts to salvage Marianne. I don’t know if you will ever be able to find it in your heart to forgive my foolishness but please do… I was so crazy with jealousy when I read that note, I couldn’t think straight! Please forgive me Christine. Please forgive my idiocy….” he whispered as he kissed her hair reverently.

“I shouldn’t forgive you, you dolt!” she exclaimed playfully, smacking her palm against his bicep. “I should punish you for ever thinking I could choose any man over you, let alone a monster who is obsessed with me ever since I was a child, but I won’t.” she laughed, burying her head in his chest. “I love you Raoul. I’ve loved you ever since I was a little girl, ever since those picnics we shared in the attic when you called me Little Lotte. Remember?”

“I remember everything my sweet.” he exhaled, relieved at her understanding. “Oh my darling, I never thought it could be possible but I love you even more, knowing you would risk setting off that madman for the sake of my cousin.”

“By the way, how is Marianne?” Christine asked him, settling further into her husband’s embrace.

“I have to admit I was worried at first but my mind has been set to ease and I know you too will be happy to hear that she is marrying Olivier. You have met Baron Dervaux, haven’t you?” he asked, a smile tugging on his lips as he pondered on the union of his cousin to his dear old friend.

“Of course! Marianne has agreed to marry him? Oh that is lovely!” she cried excitedly, disentangling herself from her husband and clapping her hands in glee. “Marianne must be thrilled!”

Raoul couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt pinch his heart as he thought of how miserable Marianne had seemed to him the last time he had seen her by that monster’s side, but he hoped she would soon forget her silly notions once she married Olivier and would find the same peace of mind he found by his Christine’s side. “That she is!” he answered smiling broadly. “Actually, Olivier informed me the wedding is to take place in less than a month, so that should give me plenty of time to take care of business. We should attend their wedding, don’t you think?”

“That would be absolutely divine Raoul!” she answered smiling broadly. “Come, let us rest. If the wedding is less than a month away, I have to make a trip to my seamstress tomorrow morning to make sure I will be properly attired for the occasion.” she said, standing up from the couch and taking her husband’s hand in hers to lead him to their bedroom.

When Raoul had finally drifted off to sleep some time later, Christine couldn’t help but smile to herself as she turned her back to him and her thoughts trailed back to Rouen and a particular masked man she had met there. ‘Poor Erik, how you must be feeling now that Olivier and Marianne are getting married. She was your last hope to get over me and look how well that turned out for you… You must be devastated… Oh, this is going to be fun!’ she thought to herself as she felt herself succumb to Orpheus, her dreams that night involving a certain masked man begging her to be his again.

A/N: Thank you all for reading and a special thanks to BRP for reviewing!
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No Easy Way