(A/N: Hello everyone! My name is Hilary (Some of you already know this), and this is my second phanfic on these boards. Thank you, everyone who came over from my last phic. I hope I don't disappoint you. And yes, this story IS E/C. Would I write anything else?
Complete Summary: Did you ever feel while reading Leroux's "The Phantom of the Opera," or watching the musical or movie that a part of the story was missing? That's because it was…
The Phantom's story as it was meant to be told… A story of the deception of innocence, of obsession and jealousy, of truth and lies…
But most of all, a story of love.
Disclaimer: Nothing in this story belongs to me. They all belong to Gaston Leroux, Andrew Lloyd Webber, and Susan Kay.
Lol, now on with the story. Let's see who reviews first to tell me that they hate the fact that Raoul is actually IN this one…)
Chapter One: The Boy and the Scarf
A young girl ran across the sand of the beach. Her fair hair caught in the wind, and blew behind her like a proud golden flag. She laughed joyfully as she ran, her bare feet kicking up clouds of sand.
Raoul de Chagny, only nine years old at the time, smiled after the girl, wishing he could run out there with her. Just a glance at his brother, Philippe, told him that this wasn't an option. Raoul sighed, pouting a little bit. Sometimes he wished that he was a commoner, too. At times like these, he secretly detested his family's title.
For a long while he watched the girl as his father and older brother conversed with another noble man on some subject or another. His two sisters were back at the house with their maids, but Philippe had insisted on bringing Raoul along to "learn the family business." Raoul wasn't really interested in what they were talking about, and he got bored easily.
The girl ran around on the beach. She appeared to be singing something cheerfully as she skipped. The man who was with her, (who, by his looks, was her father) was carrying a violin case under his arm and laughing as the girl ran in circles around him.
Suddenly a brisk little breeze picked up and blew the little girl's red scarf from around her neck. It floated on the wind and landed in the water about twenty yards away from Raoul.
The girl cried out and started to run after it, but Raoul was faster. Without a second thought he fled from his brother's side and plunged into the freezing water.
"Raoul!" Philippe turned and attempted to grab his brother, but stopped at the water line, not wanting to get wet.
Raoul, now soaked from head to toe, swam out to where the scarf was gently bobbing up and down on the waves. He stretched his hand out and grabbed it, then swam back to the shore.
The little girl was waiting for him on the coastline, grinning. He handed her the sopping wet scarf, shivering all over. She burst into giggles.
Her father hurried over to ask if he was alright, and Raoul smiled sheepishly at him. When Raoul's father came over, however, the smile quickly vanished, replaced by a deep blush.
"Raoul de Chagny, have I taught you nothing! How dare you… Just imagine, my son jumping into the water after a scarf! Weren't you paying the least bit of attention to—"
Philippe laid a hand on his father's shoulder to stop him, and turned his amused gaze to Raoul. Usually his brother was so well behaved… He actually found it a relief that his little sibling had the nerve to jump into the water in these temperatures.
"Nevermind, father, it was a noble act."
His father breathed out a long sigh and turned his gaze to the gentleman before them, who smiled a bit hesitantly and held out a hand.
"Charles Daae. I am sorry about this…"
The count waved it away as if it had never happened, even though the moment before he had been shouting like a lunatic. "Charles Daae, you say? Haven't I heard of you?" He shook the man's hand.
Before Charles could even answer, however, his daughter piped up. "Yes, you probably have! He's only the best violinist in the entire world." She beamed up at her father, who grinned back and ruffled her hair.
"Now, now, let's not get carried away."
"But you are—"
"The violinist?" the count suddenly asked, looking at the violin case under the man's arm, "Of course! I remember now…"
The conversation that followed was long and boring—at least to Raoul. Instead, he turned his attention back to the little girl. Suddenly, however, he was shy, and didn't know what to say.
Luckily, the girl wasn't shy in the least. "Hello, I'm Christine." Her gaze dropped down to the dripping scarf in her hand. "Thank you. For saving my scarf, I mean."
Raoul just nodded, embarrassed.
Christine blinked at him. "You don't get out much, do you?"
Raoul shook his head this time, and the grin returned to the girl's face. "I can tell. Don't you want to talk at all?"
Raoul nodded, paused at the look on Christine's face, and then said, "Yes."
Christine smirked slightly, "About what?"
Raoul didn't know, so he settled with, "You?"
Apparently this was the right thing to say. Most young girls enjoy talking about themselves, and at this time, Christine was no exception. She told him all about her life with her father, how they traveled from place to place and preformed, and how he always told her she would be a Prima Donna someday.
Raoul found himself wishing he could have visited all of the places she had. He had been confined most of his life in the de Chagny mansion, and only got out occasionally to go to the city.
He didn't have much time to linger on this, though, for Christine immediately began on the stories her father told her before bed. Raoul liked this even more than hearing about her travels, for the stories were full of fun and mischief. Some were about goblins, some about princes and princesses, and some about enchanted animals. Most of them, however, were centered around a curious girl, Little Lotte, and her Angel of Music.
Right away, Christine's eyes misted over as she began stories about the Angel of Music. They were her favorite, and Raoul was almost jealous at the compassion the small girl felt for this Angel. But he quickly pushed that away—she didn't really like the angel, of course. There was no such thing as an Angel of Music, and any young girl would love a fairy-tale person. They were always perfect.
He still sulked a little bit when she said, "I can't wait until the Angel of Music visits me. Father promised that he would! He said if the Angel hadn't visited me by the time he died, he'd personally send him down to me. I believe him, too." Christine sighed.
A moment later, she got up and spun around in the sand, singing, "Little Lotte let her mind wander…Little Lotte thought: Am I fonder of dolls…or of goblins or shoes…or of riddles, or frocks… or of chocolates…"
Raoul smiled at her voice. It was immature, maybe, but undeniably pretty. She continued, raising her voice in volume, depth, and feeling.
"No what I love best, Lotte said, is when I'm asleep in my bed, and the Angel of Music sings songs in my head…" she paused, collapsed on the sand, and closed her eyes. "…The Angel of Music sings songs in my head…"
Raoul ran over to her, shyness forgotten. "Come now, Little Lotte, you can't go around talking about voices in your head." he told her teasingly.
Christine's eyes flew open, and she glared at him. Then, with a grin, she jumped to her feet and ran at him.
Raoul gulped and turned to run, but she was quicker and pushed him down into the sand.
A moment later he came up, coughing. He was covered in sand, which stuck to his wet clothing and hair.
Christine laughed. "What were you saying?"
Charles Daae watched Christine and Raoul fight in the sand with a small smile on his face. "Our children seem to get along pretty well."
The count nodded. "That they do. Perhaps Raoul can visit every once in a while. He doesn't get out much, I'm afraid, so maybe it would do him some good."
Charles nodded. "Christine usually doesn't have children her age to talk to. I think it would do them both some good."
(A/N: Yes, I know it was short. Sorry about that, but that was where I wanted to end the first chapter...I'll update soon, though. Lol, okay, the contest begins. Who will be the first to review and tell me they hate it? Ready… set… GO!)