Disclaimer: As much as I wish, I have absolutely no claim to owning POTO. No characters, music, places, etc...are mine, except those you don't recognize 'cause they came out of my mind. So don't sue me, I'm not making any money off this and I don't really have anything you would want, unless you count my piano and cats...
"Nadya" is the French form of the name "Nadezhda", which means "hope" in Russian.
"Fiacre" means raven.
He had never intended to stay in the Opera Populaire forever. Once the police and opera employees had left his lair, he returned to retrieve a few items: some clothing, books, and a single brass key. And his music, all except Don Juan Triumphant. That was one piece he would never hear again. The music box he left behind. He didn't need anything else, as his new home had everything this one did. Except the memory of Christine. As he disappeared through the broken mirror, he never even glanced back.
As always, a large black cloak and hat were hanging in the dark corridor, awaiting his next venture above ground. Now, he took them for the last time. Pushing the iron gate open along the Rue Scribe, the Phantom of the Opera left as quietly as he had arrived all those years ago.
Reaching the street, he quickly hailed a cab and gave the direction: Cœur Blessé. The driver started the horses, and he quickly lapsed into his own thoughts, lulled by the sound of the horses' hooves on cobblestones, then the soft dirt of a country road.
Anyone who thought of Nadya Delauney thought she was the luckiest woman alive. To have captured and retained the interest of Fiacre Tremaine, one of the wealthiest men in all of France, was an accomplishment that bore notice. To many of Nadya's acquaintances, this was probably the height of all they could have hoped for her. Fiacre's family estate was the largest in the province, even larger than her father's. To all outward appearances, he was hopelessly devoted to her. The marriage was set to take place in 3 months, May 23. Hundreds of guests had been invited, the church was reserved, her wedding gown was the most talked of garment in all of Aquitaine.
Nadya had never felt more trapped.
Fiacre was a good looking man, wealthy and well-connected. Mothers throughout all of France had been trying to foist their daughters on him for years. Many young ladies had been favored by him, only to be cast aside for others very quickly. This had puzzled many. Now, Nadya knew why.
Erik jolted awake as the carriage stopped. Looking out, he realized they had reached Cœur Blessé. Leaning out, he gave directions to his new home: la Maison de le Masque. When the carriage stopped again, he stepped out and accepted his 2 small cases from the driver. Handing the driver his fare, he watched as the carriage disappeared into the deepening twilight. He turned and walked briskly down the lane, up to the house. Lamps could be seen shining through the windows; Madame Giry had evidently followed his instructions and had engaged a housekeeper for him. As he started to walk the last few yards to the house, he was stopped suddenly by a scream. A woman's scream.
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