Disclaimer/Notes - I own no characters, nor any ideas but my own; the characters are borrowed from Leroux/ALW/etc's POTO. The inspiration is provided by Lucifer Rosemaunt; this fic (my first) is entirely dedicated to you, and your excellent writing.

Summary - The Phantom gets his hands on a copy of Lucifer Rosemount's "Unmasking the Chains", and fires off a strongly worded email to the popular fanfic author.

Pairing - Erik/Raoul

Warning - Implied slash; SPOILERS for Lucifer Rosemount's "Unmasking the Chains" (finish that first!)

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Dear Lucifer Rosemaunt by Monsieur Opera Ghost

To: Lucifer Rosemaunt

From: Monsieur Opera Ghost

Subject: Re: Unmasking the Chains

Dear Monsieur Rosemaunt,

Your insolent disregard for my privacy notwithstanding, I commend you on your nearly worthy efforts in relating the circumstances surrounding my association with the Vicomte de Chagny. While I in no way authorize this uninvited intrusion into my personal affairs, I concede your portrayal of events is largely correct. The most glaring exception to this statement, however, is Chapter 23.

I am mystified as to why you have fallen prey to the teenaged-fangirl obsession with lovelorn angst, but the proceedings you describe following my final confrontation with the Comte most certainly did not take place. One hopes the majority of your readers possess the intelligence to discern this. No matter; my primary concern, of course, is Raoul.

You may imagine his surprise upon receiving an unsolicited copy of your manuscript "Unmasking the Chains." I would almost suspect the vengeful Mademoiselle Daaé bears responsibility for this action, if her treachery wasn't so accurately related within the tale. Perhaps the venomous Comte is at fault; ever proud of his depravity, he likely finds his own portrayal favorable. I would further accuse him of writing the story, if I didn't know he holds neither the creative intellect nor the emotional depth for such an accomplishment. I must assume you are in league with him.

Raoul is naturally curious, as you well know, and he voraciously consumed all 23 chapters of your story before I even realized something was amiss. I blame myself for my own negligence in this instance. Since Raoul has entered my life, the music in my soul often pours from my pen faster than I can even put it to paper.

As such, my inattention allowed Raoul to read your work unchaperoned. Upon completing the story, he appeared at my organ (no, not that one, you shameless pervert) in tears. He could barely form single words in between the sobs that racked his lean, supple body.

I offered Raoul solace by wrapping my strong, firm arms around his lithe, pliant frame. He managed to present me with the manuscript before delicately fainting from his exertion. As I tenderly carried my Raoul's lissome form to the bed, I suppressed thoughts of other, more pleasurable methods of comfort, determined to instead discover the fiendish source of his distress.

Imagine my horror upon reading your sensational and impudent words. The fact that you have mostly gotten it right is irrelevant. I do not condone this unwelcome invasion into my life. As it has nonetheless transpired without my consent, my only recourse is to take corrective action.

Since I am a more reasonable, temperate man - dare I say, gentleman - with Raoul in my life, I will, of course, permit you to live. I will even overlook the indiscretion with which you wantonly exposed some of the most intimate details of my life. That said, there is one transgression that cannot be allowed to stand.

An alternate Chapter 23 and epilogue shall be written to provide the accurate depiction of events as they transpired. This point is non-negotiable. To offer the guidance you seem to require to conclude my story correctly, I advise you of the following facts.

The Vicomte is very much alive, as evidenced by the intermittent sniffles and sputters still coming forth from the direction of our bed. It would appear he has not escaped your Chapter 23 even in sleep. Doubtless the boy will have nightmares for weeks to come; thank you for that.

If Raoul had the nerve to throw himself off a roof (I assure you, his balls, while lovely, simply aren't that big), he certainly would not do it in front of me. You seem to have missed the part in your own writing when Raoul declares his love for me. Or is this how you treat the people you love - leaping to your death in their presence? If so, you obviously have yet to fall in love; do let me know how it goes.

Furthermore, Raoul has no wish to end his life now that it's just gotten good. After all, he has me. And I promise you; I am very, very good.

Lastly, while I normally have no thoughts of others save Raoul, in this case, I must make an exception. Even I can hold sympathy for the many readers who no doubt invested countless hours into your engaging writing, only to be summarily bitch-slapped with an egregiously morbid finale. In all my stunts at the Opera Populaire, I cannot recall pulling one quite so cruel. (While as a reformed man I am horrified, I confess my past, more evil incarnation commends your nefarious genius).

In closing, I demand to receive your revamped conclusion within four weeks' time. And yes, I have read your retirement declaration. It is of no consequence to me. I only expect my that my demands be fulfilled, or a disaster beyond your imagination will occur. Namely, that I will rewrite Chapter 23 to divulge the truth, and you will be exposed to all as the villainous tabloid hack you clearly are.

Your obedient servant,

O.G.

P.S. Before I forget, Raoul and I extend our wishes for a Happy 4th of July. While you indulge in your crass American revelry, never forget that the United States would not exist without the intervention of French forces and battleships in your Revolutionary War.

You're welcome.