Tremulous and Tender

BY : NataliaV
Category: M through R > Phantom of the Opera
Dragon prints: 7330
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera movie(s), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Part: 9/?
Disclaimer, summary, etc, can be found in chapter one.
Thanks: To Kelsey and Sarah as always. You guys rock my socks… and all my other clothes too. Lol.
Apology: I’d like to apologize before hand… for what you might ask? Well… just… read… ;)

Christine was in a flurry of happiness. Since they’d admitted their love for each other, she and Erik were hardly apart. They’d shared no more than a handful of kisses, but the passion behind each was blinding.

Christine relished each gentle touch from his hand. Each caressed word of love or admiration he bestowed, which were frequent and many.

She had not his gift of eloquence, but she tried hard to express her feelings the same as he did. He seemed so uncertain, so afraid it was untrue, that it tore at her heart.

She wondered what misery he’d had to deal with as a child. He never told her. He told her many stories of how he’d built his home below the opera. How he’d left Paris to see the world. He told her of Persia and the one person she’d ever heard him refer to as a friend, the Daroga.

But never did he tell her of his childhood.

She knew Madame Giry had brought him to the opera house, but that was all he’d said. She wondered if he would tell her if she asked, now that they weren’t student and teacher but…

Heavens, she didn’t even know what they were! They were not lovers. She blushed at the thought. If he wished it, no doubt she would become his in every way. But he seemed so timid about simply kissing her.

But they were in love, and people who were in love kept no secrets from each other. At least, that’s what she believed.

She resolved to ask him. Perhaps once he spoke of it, he could begin healing those emotional scars of the past he clung to and begin looking to the future. She smiled brightly. Their future!


Christine had just finished a grueling rehearsal when she rushed to her dressing room. She quickly undressed, changing into a simple blue dress. She cleaned her face of sweat and makeup.

They’d been let go early and Christine was anxious to go down and surprise Erik. He was always so glad to see her and she needed some comfort after the verbal lashing Monsieur Reyer had given her for hitting a few off key notes.

Primping her hair, she smiled at her reflection. She looked much better than she had in a long time. Erik had reprimanded her for not eating as she should. She didn’t bother to remind him that it was longing for him that made her lose her appetite.

She looked very much like a woman in love at any rate.

Meg admitted to being quite envious. From their one brief meeting, she found him as intriguing as Christine made him out to be. Giggling, she told Christine that she must be kind if another phantom decided to haunt the Opera Populaire, and let her have him.

Grabbing her cloak, she started to go to the mirror when her dressing room door opened. She whirled around to face a young man with honey colored hair. He smiled sweetly at her.

She glanced at the mirror nervously. “Can I help you, Monsieur?”

He frowned before speaking in a cultured tone. “Little Lotte let her mind wander. Little Lotte thought: ‘am I fonder of dolls or of goblins or shoes?’”

“Raoul.” She smiled fondly. The Vicomte Raoul de Chagny - the little boy that rescued her scarf from the sea. It had been many years since. What a coincidence to see him again!

“Or of riddles or frocks?” he continued, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to it.

“Those picnics in the attic...” Christine’s thought wandered back on those days. That was almost right before her father died.

“Or of chocolates?”

“Father playing the violin,” her smile faded. She tried not to think of her father too often. She seemed to miss him more than when he died sometimes.

“As we read to each other dark stories of the North.”

“’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.’” Her smile returned and her eyes brightened when she thought of her “Angel of Music”.

“The Angel of Music sings song in my head.” He echoed the end of the children’s story. He hugged her suddenly. Startled, she pulled from the embrace, ending it as quickly as it began. “I heard you last night. You sang like an angel.”

“Thank you.” She looked nervously at the clock. If she didn’t go down soon, Erik would come up for her. She had no doubt that he would be less than thrilled at seeing some strange man in her dressing room.

“And now, we go to supper!”

“No, Raoul. The --” she fumbled to think of an excuse, “the managers are very strict.”

“Well, I shan’t keep you up late. Besides, Christine, don’t you know, I’m the new Patron of the opera.” He laughed arrogantly.

“Raoul, no,” she snapped.

His laughter grated on her nerves. He looked her once over with his aristocratic eye, “you must change. I’ll order my carriage. Two minutes, Little Lotte.”

“No. Raoul, wait!” But he was already out the room. She bit her lip, debating what to do. She could just go down to Erik, but that would leave open too many questions. No. She would just have to wait for Raoul to return and tell him in no uncertain terms that she would not have supper with him.

“Insolent boy!
This slave of fashion,
basking in your glory!
Ignorant fool!
This brave young suitor,
sharing in my triumph!”

The mirror opened and Erik stepped out. He shook with a fury she’d only seen once before; when she’d removed his mask.

“Erik! I was just about to go to you.”

“Until the Vicomte arrived,” he sneered. “He is a handsome boy, is he not?”

“What do I care of his looks?” She placed her hand on his chest, silently begging him to calm. “He’s going to come back. I need to send him away, Erik, so he won’t suspect anything of my disappearance.”

“Yes. You wouldn’t want him to know of your dark, dirty secret, would you?” He turned from her quickly, stalking trough the mirror and leaving her.

Torn, she looked between the door and the mirror. She would have to go after Erik, Raoul be damned. She would worry about any questions he might have later.

Taking her cloak, she went through the mirror. It was dark. She’d not taken a lamp or candle and she could hardly see. She moved her hands, blindly searching for the walls, but came in contact with something soft and moving.


His hand snatched her wrist roughly and he pulled her along. It was lit at the waters edge. He was still angry, that much she could tell. His face was set in a grim scowl and his eyes seemed to burn.

He pushed her into the boat. She felt tears start to well as she sat there. She’d never wanted to see him so again. As he docked the boat, she climbed out and rushed to her room, not wanting him to see her cry.

Where had her gentle love gone? Why couldn’t he listen to reason? Didn’t he know she cold never think of another man because he consumed her so wholly?

He stalked in after a few moments. He walked right up to her, slid his hand along her face before running it through her hair. His fingers curled shut and he yanked hard at her hair.

Review Responses:

First, I know, I know! I’m evil. I hate cliffhangers, I do. That’s why I apologized beforehand. But I did warn you when I posted last, didn’t I? I do have 10 with my betas. I will post it as soon as I get it back… so… yeah…

Yeah… and more, soooo much more! Lol. The world sings… I’m sure Erik sings… it’s like that coke commercial… everyone sings with happiness… I even sang… horribly off-key!

Don’t ya just love ooey-gooey romance? *swoons* I do! I’m glad my silly, little story made you day better!


I know! I tried to make it naughty… but my smut muses *were* on vacation. *wink, wink*.

Angel Marie
*gets smelling salts* Don’t faint! Lol. The wait was long, I’m sorry. But, I should be back to updating normalishly. ;)


Ha! Expecting smut and you get none! I am evil… *goes off to plot world domination by means of nail polish*…

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