Black Wolf

A Phantom of the Opera Fan Fic

By DonJuanTriumphs

© 2005

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from the Phantom of the Opera such as Erik, Christine, and Raoul. I make no profit from this and the copyright is simply to show that the story itself is mine not the characters in it.

Summary: This is a different take on our beloved story. All the characters will be present but in a very different setting. Erik is a wealthy duke that is called the Black Wolf. Christine comes to the town that Erik presides over to hear dark rumors about the masked man that lives in the dark manor on the hilltop. Raoul is the town's most handsome bachelor that sets his sites on Christine.

Author's Note: I have had this idea for some time but have been to busy with my other stories to actually sit down and type it. I hope you all will bear with me since this is a different plot setting then the legendary Phantom that we are all aware of. I am also using the town Boscherville as the city and everyone is aware that the name belongs to Susan Kay, not me, I just wanted to add it in and the village will be quite different from the one in Kay's book so do not expect to see a resemblance. I hope you do not mind the liberties I made with this story but I hope you all enjoy what I am trying desperately to make into a good fan fic. And for anyone that might ask this has nothing to do with Beauty and the Beast and if it sounds that way I am terribly sorry for I did not want it that way. But do not fret, I will try and keep the characters in character. Just please read and review, I love reading what you all think!

Chapter One

Christine Daaé

The tears on Christine Daaé's cheeks had grown cold and forgotten on her pale skin. There were no more tears to shed. Nothing was going to bring him back and nothing was going to make her feel any better. He was gone. The only man who had ever been in her life was in heaven with God's angels.

"Oh, Papa, I miss you terribly…" she whispered into the empty carriage. This carriage was bringing her to her new life away from the pains of loss and regret. For the past month she had had to watch her father become consumed by the sickness that ultimately occurred with his death.

With him gone their small modest cottage felt like a prison that was slowly suffocating the life out of her. Everywhere she looked something reminded her of him and she could no longer bear to stay there. It hurt too much to see his beloved violin lying alone and abandon along with the dozens of books he had read to her throughout her childhood.

And now she had only one thing that belonged to her father with her on this journey; a necklace with a golden rose pendant at the base. It had belonged to her mother first, a gift from her father on their wedding night. But when she had died giving birth to Christine her father had kept it as remembrance until he felt his daughter was old enough to treasure it.

Christine did not remember her mother at all and it was something that panged her young heart even to this day. She knew it was foolish to miss something you never had and yet she yearned for a mother with every fiber of her being.

Her father had loved her and cared for her more then most fathers and for that she would always love him. But there had been things that a young girl could not tell her father and at times like those she had yearned for a mother to talk to.

Like the time she had first set her sights on a young boy. Christine could not help but grimace at the memory of young Jacque. She had been sixteen years old, he an older twenty. So not really a boy at all, but a man.

He had been the most handsome man Christine had ever laid eyes on and she had fallen for him as soon as laid eyes on him. She knew now that it had only been a wild infatuation but at the time she had thought it was love.

She had desperately wanted to tell her father about him but had felt much to embarrassed to do so. Jacque had known all the right words to say to her to make her fall harder for him. He would kiss her hand and stare deeply into her eyes as if he truly cared for her. Little had she known then.

She remembered the night she had let infatuation overcome rational thought. Jacque had begged and pleaded with her to meet him in his father's barn at midnight that night. A little secret rendezvous. Christine had felt like a fairy princess out to meet her young prince.

She had met him that night, secretly sneaking from her father's home and hailing a carriage to take her to Jacque's estate. He had been there as promised and she had not even greeted him before his mouth had snatched hers in her first kiss. Her body had been overcome with intense feelings that she had wanted to explore further and so Christine had allowed him to lead her into an empty stall.

At first she had failed to notice the stench of brandy on his breath but as he continued to kiss her she became more and more aware of it. She remembered frowning in disappointment to know that he had not wanted her because he loved her; he wanted her because he was drunk.

"Please, Jacque, stop, I do not want to do this any longer," she had protested. He had looked at her in surprise.

"What?" he had demanded in disbelief. Christine had felt a sense of uneasiness over come her at that one word.

"We will, soon, but not when you are like this," she had said, trying to push him off of her. He did not move.

"Like what?" he demanded.

"You are foxed!" she had said. He had grinned charmingly. Was it possible for a man who was drunk to be charming?

"Ah, Christine, it was you who has made me so. I was so nervous about our little meeting that I had to have a drink," he said.

"Smells like you treated to yourself to more then one!" Christine had said angrily. He ignored her protests and kissed her, much to her chagrin. His hands began to take now unwanted liberties and she began to struggle. Jacque's face had twisted with hatred and he had slapped her. Christine still felt that slap up to this day. She did not want to think about the way he had torn her dress from her body and violated her body in the worst way.

She shivered at the memory in disgust. Even to this day she hated herself for allowing that man to get close to her. She had never been able to tell her father what had been done to her because she had been embarrassed. From that moment on she had not allowed a single man to get close to her that way.

Christine had been a girl with romantic fancies that had only led to her heart being broken.

So now she was going to Boscherville, a small town in France that her father had talked of repeatedly. He had told her that though it was a small village it was the people he would remember the most because they were all so good hearted and friendly. He said that when he had gone there the first time he had been allowed to stay under the roof of an elderly man who was to kind to make him stay out in the cold winter air.

Now Christine was hoping that these friendly citizens would help her find a small cottage with the meager amount her father had been able to leave her. But she would not complain about her inheritance because she loved her father immensely and she knew he had worked hard his whole life just to keep the two of them happy.

She wanted to live in peace without any of the troubles that everyone had to deal with. She had seen enough of life's hardships in her eighteen years and she did not want anymore of it. If Boscherville was as friendly as her father said then it should not be a problem for her to find what she was looking for.

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"Ah, yes, my dear, I have a room left," the innkeeper, Belle, said with a warm smile. Christine sighed in relief. It had begun to rain and she had barely managed to see this small inn in the center of Boscherville. No one was in the common room and Christine had feared that there were no rooms available. But her fears were unfounded.

"Come with me, dear, I will help you get settled," Belle said.

"Thank you, mademoiselle, that is very kind of you," Christine said sincerely. Belle smiled and led Christine up a narrow flight of stairs. The innkeeper was a voluptuous woman but pretty none the less. Her hair was as blond as Christine's was brown and piled messily on her head. Her eyes were a pretty shade of blue in a nice face. Her dress was slightly too small but Christine had a feeling that it was deliberate. Men often came back to inn's where there keepers were pleasant to the eyes, which was good for business.

The room she was led to was comfortable if simple. There was one small bed next to a small window. A trunk was at the foot of the bed and a wardrobe sat in one corner.

"Meals are served three times a day in the common room and I advise that you have your meal brought to you at dinner," Belle said with a small laugh. Christine frowned.

"I am sorry, mademoiselle, I do not understand," Christine said, confused.

"Dinner is when the inn is full of men who are all getting foxed, a pretty girl like you would do well to stay away," Belle said good naturedly. Now Christine was all too familiar with what the other woman was talking about and she shuddered, her thoughts involuntarily going to Jacque.

"Do not worry, if there is any man that you should worry about it is that Black Wolf," she said. Christine frowned.

"Black Wolf?" she asked. The woman nodded, pulling down the bed for Christine.

"Yes, he is the Duke of Boscherville, a vile man if I ever did see one, he lives in the manor on the hill not far from here," Belle said.

"What is so terrible about him?" Christine wondered. She was not one for rumors but found herself very interested.

"Many believe he is the devil incarnate, he cares for no one but himself and is as cruel a man as you will ever see," she said.

"I will be sure to stay away from him then," Christine said.

"You probably will never see him, he hardly ever leaves his manor," Belle said. Christine laughed.

"Then it appears I have absolutely nothing to worry about," Christine replied.