My piece for the 2019 POTO Advent Calendar on Tumblr!

If you're curious, no, you're not seeing double. I wrote the original version of this story in 2005 when I was a college freshman and just venturing into phic writing. Looking back, I love the premise of this phic, but I was never quite happy with the quality of writing in the original. I have decided to leave the OG version up on this site, if only for nostalgia's sake, but much prefer this updated edition.

In any event, as always, thank you for reading and all reviews are very welcome deeply appreciated. Happy Holidays!

"Papa!

The small, shrill voice startled him out of his focus and Erik lay aside his quill with a defeated sigh. "In here, ange." A curly brown head and two sparkling eyes appeared in the doorway of the music room and the Opera Ghost suppressed a smile. "Shouldn't you be in bed, Ariane?"

Those eyes blinked up at him as she drew closer, chewing thoughtfully on a lower lip. "Maman said I could have a bedtime story first."

"Ah, did she now?" Erik straightened the pages of sheet music on the piano before leaning down so he met this new gaze at eye-level. "And does Maman plan to deliver on this particular request?"

A fierce shake of her head sent brown curls flying. "She said you would tell me one because your're more dramatic."

"Is that so?" he replied with a touch of wry humor. When he received another affirming nod, he could not stop the affectionate chuckle that fell from his lips. "Well, then I suppose I don't have any choice in the matter, now do I?"

His daughter only shrugged, studied him for a moment and then flounced from the room. Erik watched her go, then rose from the bench, ignoring the protesting creak and snap of his bones. He spotted his target as she rounded the corner into her own bedroom and followed suit, entering the small space as she hoisted herself onto the bed.

She met his gaze with a grin as he took a seat beside her, toeing off his shoes before stretching long legs out before him and his heart threatened to burst as it did every time she snuggled trustingly into his side. "Comfortable, ma belle?" When she nodded, he settled himself against her enormous stack of pillows- a habit encouraged by her mother, no doubt - and asked, "Very well then. Which type of story will suit your flight of fancy tonight?

Ariane looked thoughtful for a moment. "A romantic story." she said dreamily

Behind the mask, Erik arched a brow. "A romance?"

She nodded eagerly. "Yes Papa! A romantic story!"

His knowledge of those stories appropriate for a five year old was severely limited. "Alright. What would you like me to tell you? Cinderella, perhaps? Or would you prefer to hear Sleeping Beauty once more." His mind raced as he attempted to take inventory of other stories he had told her in the past.

Ariane shook her small head vigorously, face scrunched in distaste. "Not those stories. A romantic Christmas story!"

"A Christmas romance on Christmas Eve. How unoriginal." Erik grumbled, but nonetheless pondered her request for a moment before a sly smile spread across his features. "Ah, but then I think I know just the story."

Ariane's smile was brilliant. "What is the story about, Papa?" she asked as she yawned, but quickly covered it with her hand, hoping her father wouldn't see it. "Is there a princess?"

He had, but pretended not to notice. "No princesses, Aria. But there is an Angel," he began. "Now, this is a story passed on to me by a very reliable source. I say that because in all of my life, I have found very few of them. Therefore they few that I do meet, I trust with my very life. They have told me that this is a true story, full of magic and surprise, much like the fairy tales you love so much." Pausing for dramatic (ha!) effect (Far be it from him to disappoint the girl, after all), he finished with a theatrical wave of his hand. "The story of The Christmas Rose"

"Tell it to me!." She gazed up at him with rapt attention in those deep amber eyes, so much another pair he adored.

He chuckled. "I am about to, my love." Mollified for the moment, Ariane relaxed against him as he closed his eyes. "Let me see now. How do most of your stories begin? Oh, yes. 'Once upon a time…'"

Once upon a time there lived an Man. This was no ordinary man, mind you. No, this man was an outcast upon the people. Abandoned at an early age, he had been forced to fend for himself, stealing when necessary for the sole need of survival. As he grew, he had been to many places and seen many things, yet longed for the one thing that would make his life whole. The only thing he ever wanted or cared for in his life. He wanted to love and be loved in return.

Hardly a request to yearn over, you say. Surely it was fulfilled with no remorse, you think. You are wrong. No one, not even the Man's own mother had ever shown him one shred of affection. Because of this, the many marvelous things he saw and experienced held nothing for him, for he had no one in which to share their beauty.

Therefore, the Man became a recluse. He made his home where no soul would ever dare to look. He went without human contact for many years, relying on one person alone to maintain his knowledge of the outside world. In many ways, she became his mother and only friend and although he would never admit it to a living soul, he came to trust her implicitly."

"Pa-pa?"

A new voice caused both sets of eyes to fly open as a third member of the party toddled into the bedroom, pausing by the bed to pierce each of them with her best attempt at Erik's menacing glare. "I wanna story too!".

Ariane huffed while her father simply chuckled. "My humblest apologies, Sabine, ma fleur. How very foolish of me to begin without you."

"Maybe I want to be a flower too." Ariane huffed from his left side.

"Ah, but you are both the most exquisite of blossoms," Erik soothed, lifting his younger daughter to join them. "And as there is plenty of room in the garden for a multitude of blossoms, there is also room for both of you at my side."

Ariane blinked up at him as Sabine settled herself happily between Erik's knees. "She's in your lap, Papa," she deadpanned.

"All the same, my darlings," he replied. "Now, as I was saying…"

Years went by. Many things changed, yet the Man's life remained exactly as before. Until one day, that is.

One day, something happened that would change his life forever, both for the good and the bad; Something that he would never forget.

The Man fell in love.

How could that possibly be bad, you ask? I will tell you. The Man did not fall in love with just anyone. He fell in love with an Angel with a heavenly voice. The Man trained her voice, becoming her teacher and eventually her friend. Their relationship continued for some time, the Angel never knowing the depth of the Man's love for her. Perhaps it was his own mistake that he never told her, but as time went on, she found herself in the company of a handsome Prince.

The handsome Prince was fine indeed, blessed with wealth, beauty and influence. The son of a nobleman, he held the world at his beck and call. Surely he was perfect, much to the ire of the Man. The Prince was everything the Man was not and he was certain he could feel his Angel slipping away.. As such, the Man realized time was running out.

Mustering all of his courage, he brought her to his home once more, where they had spent countless hours lost together in their world of music, he made his feelings known to her at last.

The Angel knew she had a choice to make. She held the hearts of two men in her hands. One she would take for herself, the other she would crush forever. Should she choose her handsome Price and live in luxury all her life? Or should she chose the Man, her teacher and friend who had given her his greatest gift he had to give? Oh, how she agonized over the choice, but she knew it had to be made and finally, it was.

She chose her handsome Prince.

"I don't like this story."

Erik glanced down only to be met with Ariane's disapproving frown. "That's a bit presumptuous, don't you think?"

When she only shrugged, he shifted attention to his youngest. "And you, Sabine? Will you also pass judgement so quickly?"

Gemstone eyes under a mop of black curls in his lap tipped up to look at him, then found the sour face of her elder sister, sealing her opinion in the like. "No good, Papa," was her solemn reply.

"Perhaps the both of you have a few too many of my genes" he muttered, sotto voce before forcing the brightness back into his voice. "What if I were to tell you that this is only the beginning?"

Ariane ached a brow. "Then there is a happy ending?"

"I've yet to find a Christmas romance that did end that way."

She waved a careless hand, a gesture that should be well beyond her half-decade of life. "Then keep going. I trust you, Papa."

Erik pressed his lips together, just for a moment. "As you wish, ma belle."

Needless to say, the Man's heart was broken beyond repair. The one chance in his life he had ever found to love and be loved had been ripped from his hands and with it, his hopes destroyed. Unable to stand the thought or sight of the Angel with her Prince, he left the country at the first available opportunity and went as far as he was able in order to forget any shred of hope he may have once had.

As is its way, time passed. The Man, unable to stay in one place for very long, had spent that time moving from place to place, finally beginning to heal from his emotional wounds. He still loathed human contact of any time, unable to trust anyone after what had happened. After months of aimless wandering, he finally returned to the country where he had spent most of his life and was shocked at what he found upon his arrival.

A new scandal had arisen- the talk of the town, if you will.. The Angel had left her Prince! Some said his family drove her away. Others said she was in love with a ghost. Still others said she had led him on from the beginning. The rumors were everywhere. For a split second, hope sparked somewhere in the depths of the Man's icy soul. Could he have a second chance at what he had longed for all of his life? Could he risk his heart again? The questions hounded him as he walked through the streets.

Upon reflecting on his past, the Man decided against it. He had been burned before; he would not be burned again. He shut himself away just as he had in the early part of his life, not that he was old now. He turned away anyone who attempted to see him, including the Woman, his sole friend who had been his contact to the outside world. His heart could not take another rejection. He would surely die if it were to happen once more and it was not a risk he was willing to take.

"...Are you absolutely sure it gets better?" Ariane's tone indicated she was not holding out much hope for her promised happy ending and even Sabine looked doubtful as she peered up at him.

"Trust me, bel anges" he murmured, working very hard to suppress the smile that seemed almost second nature these days. "Have I ever disappointed you before?"

Ariane tossed another doubtful glance at her sister, but blinked up at him expectantly. Erik sighed, knowing that was as much of an answer that he was going to receive and continued...

The Man had a visitor one day. It was the Woman who had been his only friend the majority of his life. At first, he would not allow her entrance to his home, but she stood her ground, threatening to bodily break in if necessary. Not wanting to be responsible for the injury of an old woman, he finally relented and allowed her to enter.

She seated herself in his parlor and asked him where he had been all of those months. He did not reply, but she was not swayed. You see, this Woman had the ace in the proverbial card game. She was also like a mother to the Angel. The girl had been orphaned at an early age and the Woman and her daughter had taken her into their lives and now, their home. The Woman smiled at the Man and invited for Christmas Day as it was the next day and he had nowhere to be.

At first the Man balked at her invitation, flatly refusing any and all offers of hospitality. The Woman let him rant and sulk, staring at him with pursed lips and calculating eyes. It was only when he fell silent that she seized the opportunity to play her ace. She proceeded to inform him that the Angel would also be present for the holiday festivities. Again the Man refused, knowing that the sight of her would only deepen the pain in his heart that he had dedicated his life to forgetting. To see her again would be his undoing.

Once again, Woman listened quietly before giving her reply. Once he had finished, she took the opportunity to verbally thrash him within an inch of his life. She told him of the Angel. How she thought that the Man was dead, how she had only ever really loved him; that being the reason she could not bring herself to marry the Prince.

The Man had not weakened. If she had truly loved him, why did she choose the Prince? The woman was quiet for a moment. She then answered that the Angel had been horribly confused in her situation. A heart cannot be forced to choose, nevermind choosing wisely in the short amount of time that she had been given.

With a glare, the Woman stood, ready to take her leave, but advised him at this point in the road, he had two choices. He could put his foolish pride on the shelf and take a chance of love again or he could feel sorry for himself, stay put and rot away with no one to share his life with. The choice was his and his alone.

He sat in silence as the Woman brushed past him and left his house without a word. Her words had left him speechless. Had she truly cried when she thought him dead? She loved him enough to leave the prince, even with him supposedly dead? He knew he had to make a choice. He wanted to be with her, yes, but he was a proud man. Not someone to easily admit his mistakes.

And yet...

With a resigned sigh, his choice was made. To hell with his stubborn pride. All that mattered now was getting to the Angel.

Bursting from his chair, the Man made his way to the desk. Sitting down once more, he took out a piece of paper and penned a letter to the angel. Securing his cloak, he made his way to the Woman's house and sought out the Angel's room. It was late at night and he knew she would be sleeping. Very quietly, he snuck into her room and placed the letter and a snow white rose on the vanity and took his leave.

"Papa, down!" Sabine's slaps to his thighs broke the spell. "Milk!"

"You want milk?" Erik clarified as her small head bobbed vigorously. "Very well. Let me just.."

"No, Papa" She stopped him with another light slap to his leg. "I get. Be right back"

"Oh…" He watched, stupefied as she carefully slid out from between his legs, off of the bed and scampered down to the kitchen.

At his side, Ariane let out an impatient groan. "She always has to run off during the good parts!"

"I'm sure she'll return in no time," he placated, taking the opportunity to squeeze his oldest a bit tighter. "But it is good to see I've managed to win you over, hmmm? Ah, here she is now."

"Hurry up, Saby," Ariane whined, but took the cup so her sister could settle herself again. With the younger girl sipping contentedly and the older nearly bursting with anticipation, Erik allowed himself a knowing smile as he brought his story to its conclusion.

The next morning, the Angel awoke. She was not very cheerful, as it was Christmas, yet she had no reason to celebrate. She stretched and her gaze fell on her vanity, where she saw what the man had placed there the night before. She leapt from the bed, ran to the vanity and carefully picked up the rose. She breathed in its scent, closing her eyes to savor its sweetness. The Angel then picked up the letter, searching and scanning every line for his words until she saw his instructions directing her to the parlor.

Quickly throwing on a robe, she flew down the stairs and into said parlor where Woman and her daughter sat, their faces bright with conspiratorial smiles. The Angel blinked, perplexed. She knew the handwriting of the letter, yet saw no one else in the room. Her eyes flicked around the space for a moment before questioning the woman as to the purpose of the letter. The woman did not answer didn't answer, only handed the Angel another letter bearing the same seal.

The Angel quickly tore open the second missive, eyes moving furiously over the parchment. This one instructed her to go into the garden. Not even thinking to change out of her nightclothes, the Angel threw on boots and an overcoat and hurried as fast as her legs would carry her. She reached the garden, panting heavily from the run. Glancing around frantically for any sign, her gaze finally settled on the willow tree at the far end of the yard.

Under the tree stood the Man, waiting patiently for the Angel- his Angel- to take notice to him. The Angel's face broke into a large smile as she raced to the Man, launching herself into his embrace. To a casual observer, it was quite a contrast: she in her nightgown, he in the finest of evening wear, yet neither cared.

The Man gently set the Angel back on her feet and reached into his coat. Out of his coat he pulled a rose as red as blood and her eyes widened. He told her it was a very special rose indeed: A Christmas Rose that would bring great happiness to whoever received it- if it were accepted with an open heart. Speechless, she took it from him with tears in her eyes.

Before she could embrace him again, he reached once more into his coat and withdrew a small box. Inside that box was the most beautiful ring she had ever seen. Right there in the snow, the Man dropped to bended knee and asked for her hand. The Angel's reply was to leap into his arms, knocking him flat on his back in the snow. As she kissed him, then and there he knew his life had at last changed for the better. And oh, yes. What is that you say? They did indeed live happily ever after."

"And that, my dears, is the story of the Christmas Rose. It is a fantastical tale of pure love with no-" Erik stopped mid-sentence when he failed to hear the twin sighs of happiness that usually accompanied one of his stories. "Girls?" It was only then that he glanced down to find both of his daughters sprawled against him, fast asleep and looking quite content.

The masked man chuckled and, after carefully extracting himself, pressed a kiss to her Ariane's forehead as he tugged the blankets to her chin. "Good night, ma belle." Lifting Sabine into his arms, he carried her across the room, where he deposited her in her own bed, repeating the process as he had with Ariane."And to you as well, ma fleur. Merry Christmas, mon chers."

Slipping silently from the room, he had barely set foot in the hall before he felt two small hands slide around his middle and a slight form settle against his back with a sigh. His long fingers twined with the smaller ones as if by magic and he chuckled slightly before advising. "Well played, mon ange. They're finally asleep."

Christine's soft smile was brilliant as he turned in her arms, enfolding her and knotting large hands at the base of her spine.. "It's about time. What kept you so long?"

Erik's hold on her tightened. "Ariane insisted I tell her a story. An idea, I might add, which you aided those tiny imps in hoodwinking me. But I suppose it is Christmas Eve."

She nodded, ignoring his jibe. "What story did you tell them.?"

He could not keep the wry grin from his face. "The Christmas Rose."

A secret smile spread across Christine's face. "Ah, I've always liked that one...and rather fitting if you ask me."

Erik chuckled leaning down to steal a kiss from that upturned mouth. "As you say, love." Still, he followed her gaze to the shadow box that hung on the wall next to their wedding portrait- a dark mahogany framing Venetian glass that held two pieces of paper, written in a scrawled hand, as well as a handful of rose petals, a beautiful duet of blood and snow.

Christine glanced up at him, then leant her crown against his shoulder, giving his waist a squeeze for good measure. "How long do you think it will be?"

Erik caught her meaning immediately and gave a helpless shrug. "Who can say?" he mused. "But something tells me the girls will come to realize, much sooner than either you or I could ever believe, that truth is stranger than fiction."