Chapter Twenty Five: Happy at Last?

Wiltshire Manor, Paris, 1877

"Welcome, my lord," the butler greeted. Erik took off his travelling cape and hat and handed it to him.

"Well, time to settle in, Christine. Erik." Erik surveyed the grand lobby with its immense crystal chandelier, a sweeping staircase, and luxurious silk draping.

Behind him came a series of happy shrieks and yells, and two six year old children preceded him into the main lobby.

Erik was the new Duke of Wiltshire, thanks to the papers prepared by the late Duchess of Wiltshire, Christine Juliet Daae. She had outlined the reason for this act, stating that he was the father of her two children, who were the rightful heirs to the Daae inheritance.

As such, it was only fitting that they be raised as the last members of the Daae family. The only way to do that was to make Erik the Duke of Wiltshire. At first most of the upper crust of society objected, saying that Erik was a commoner and had no drop of aristocratic blood in his body.

However, the paper clearly stated that the children carried the blood of the Daae family, and that was enough to nullify anything else. Apparently even the king of England could not dispute the matter, and so Erik was given the privilege of having the entire Daae wealth and estate handed to him and his two children.

Along with this, the disappearance of Viscount Raoul de Chagny rocked France and England for three years, and it still refused to die down until this day. Nobody knew exactly what happened to him, and a few rumormongers claimed that he had run away with a whore and was hiding in shame. Others said that the viscount committed suicide after hearing of the news of Christine's demise. The two people who did know what happened to Raoul de Chagny remained silent – one remained deathly silent and the other refused to grant his rival any reprieve for the wrongs he had committed.

And so the mysterious disappearance of Viscount Raoul de Chagny was written down as one of the most baffling disappearances in the world, and is considered as one of France's unsolved crimes.

Six years as a father and the Duke of Wiltshire brought a lot of changes in Erik. One, he carried himself like a pure nobleman, and those who were unaware of his background believed him to have been born of noble parents.

Second, he adopted a more refined manner, and some women admitted to finding him devastatingly attractive. However he politely refused any romantic advances, saying that Christine was to be the only woman in his life; his first and his last.

Instead he devoted his life to the raising of his son and daughter, who were turning to be miniature versions of their parents.

Little Erik displayed an uncanny talent in music, plus his tutors were claiming that he had the makings of a genius. After all, the boy was able to read and speak Latin, German, French, and Greek. Now, he was learning the complex formulas involved in chemistry and physics, but his true passion lay in music. All this was found in a six year old boy.

Erik prided in his son's achievements and fully supported him in all his endeavors. However, he also reminded little Erik to cherish being a child and encouraged him to play games with his twin sister. Little Erik usually obliged, mainly because he was extremely fond of his twin sister and was as protective of her as Erik was, if not more.

Little Christine, on the other hand, was a charming young girl who could easily capture the hearts of the people she met, both young and old. Everyone who met her kept on commenting on her resemblance to her mother. Unlike her brother, little Christine loved outdoor activities like horseback riding.

For six years Erik had lived in England, but he finally decided to set up a home for him and his children in Paris. He wanted them to see where he and their mother met and he also intended on buying the Opera Populaire.

"Everything in order, I trust?" he asked the butler as he followed his children into the courtyard.

"Yes, everything has been done as you ordered, my lord." The butler waited expectantly, but Erik had no more to ask of him. He thanked the man and studied his son and daughter as they ran around the garden.

Little Christine's hair flew about her as she ran in circles around her brother, while Erik, who resembled him, tried in vain to catch her. He finally gave up and stalked towards his father.

"Why Erik, is something wrong?" he asked his son, who looked disgruntled.

Little Erik nodded. "She's too fast!"

"So was I when I was your age," Erik told him. "It seems your roles have been switched."

His son didn't look happy at the news, and he continued watching his sister. Little Christine noticed her father and brother looking at her, and she stopped and faced them with her hands on her hips.

"Stop staring!" She pouted, and Erik saw Christine pouting back at him.

Dear God, she looks like her mother so much, Erik thought. It was both a delight and a sorrow; he could still see Christine in a way, and that made him miss her all the more.

"Christine," he called. "Come."

She obeyed and he took her small hand in his. She smiled gaily at him and he couldn't help but remember the times Christine held his hand as they raced through the hallways of the Opera Populaire.

"Christine, Erik. How would you like to visit your mother?" he asked them as they went inside.

"Mama? Oh yes please, Papa!" Little Christine cried. "When, Papa? When?"

"Tomorrow. We should settle in first." Erik looked at his son. "What do you say, Erik?"

"Certainly, Papa. I would very much like to see her," his son agreed. "I think we should bring her flowers. White roses, perhaps."

"She preferred red roses, but very well, we shall honor your suggestion," Erik said, ruffling his son's hair fondly. "Now go on, get dressed. We're having lunch soon."

Brother and sister held hands as they ran to their adjoining rooms, and Erik felt a sense of pride as he watched them leave. He knew that he would soon have to let them go. Christine was reaching womanhood in a few years, and Erik was becoming a promising duke.

Opera Populaire, Paris, 1877

"I can see it, Papa!" Little Christine cried, jumping up from her seat to gaze at the Opera Populaire. "It's beautiful!"

Erik smiled fondly at his daughter. She was her mother in miniature except for a small birthmark on her right cheek, which was what she had inherited from his deformity. Beside him his son, Little Erik, reached for his twin sister.

"Sit down, Christy!" he demanded, his voice strong and authoritative. He was like his grandfather Gustav, a duke in the making. "You'll fall out!"

"No I won't," Little Christine shot back. "Watch me."

"Christine, listen to your brother," Erik told her. "Proper duchesses shouldn't jump up while the carriage is in motion."

"Mama wasn't like other duchesses," Little Christine argued, but she sat down anyway. "You said so."

"I know what I said, my dear, but your Mama also knew when to behave." Erik threw a meaningful look at the older woman sitting beside his daughter.

"Is Mama really staying there, Papa?" Little Erik asked him quietly.

Erik nodded. "She loved that place as much as I did. It was only fitting that she is housed there."

The carriage jostled to a halt and Little Christine bounced up and down excitedly. "Can I go down now? Please?"

Erik threw his daughter a warning look and she folded her arms and became very still. He threw open the carriage door, stepped down, and held his arm out for the older woman.

"Such a gentleman," she said, winking at him.

"Nanny Margerethe," he said simply, smiling in return. Next to follow was Little Christine, who purposely missed the carriage steps and instead threw herself in her father's arms.

"Papa!" she cried, giggling and hugging him tight.

"Oh Christine," he said half-exasperatedly and half-amusedly. "You really are like your Mama."

She beamed as he set her down on the ground. Nanny Margerethe latched onto her ward's hand firmly; she had had enough experience with the mother and expected the same behavior from the daughter.

Little Erik was the last to step out. He did so with great dignity that made Erik smile. "Come on you, we aren't going to wait for you the whole day."

His son leaped off the last step and looked up at him expectantly.

"Bring the carriage to the stables won't you, Philip?" Erik told the driver, who doffed his hat and urged the horses on.

"So are we staying for the night?" Little Christine asked as they walked up the steps.

"Don't you want to see the French Quarter?" her brother asked her. "I thought you wanted to see it 'as soon as we get to Paris'."

Christine wrinkled her nose. "No. I want to see Mama first. Papa is also going to tell us stories about him and her won't you Papa?"

But her father didn't answer her. He was looking up at the grand entrance, remembering the time he spent with Chrissy during the masquerade. That was the night he knew that he really, truly loved her.

And, of course, there was the night he spent with Chrissy in his lair, where they created their two beautiful children.

Christine had given him a great gift: two people who would love him endlessly despite his deformity. What's more, they didn't inherit his deformity, save for the small birthmark on little Christine's cheek.

"Papa?" Little Christine said, tugging on his coat gently.

"He's daydreaming about Mama again," Little Erik guessed, causing his twin sister to giggle.

"Let's see her now!" Little Christine urged, pulling on the arm of Nanny Margerethe. The old woman remained firm, but after a few playful tugs, she gave in. They ran up the steps, with Nanny Margerethe panting from the exertion. She was too old to be taking care of children, but when Christine had showed up on her doorstep six years ago and begged her to stay with her children until they were old enough, well, she couldn't say no.

Little Erik gave a dejected sigh and ran after his sister. Erik snapped out of his spell and followed his two children into the opera house. While his children oohed and aahed at the splendor of the entranceway, Erik was amazed at how little the opera house had changed.

He could see in his mind's eye Christine twirling in the middle, her pale pink gown sweeping the smooth, marble floor, her hair flying about her. His heart ached; he missed her dearly.

But in a few minutes he would get to see her again.

"Duke of Wiltshire," a low voice came from the stairs. He looked up and saw an older Madame Giry leaning against the banister. Behind him was a 12 year old girl – Soleil.

Meg Giry had run away from her mother four years ago to marry some exotic Arabian prince, but there have been reports that she was now a simple shopkeeper somewhere in Ireland. Whatever happened to her had caused her mother to age considerably, and her once shiny black hair was now streaked with gray.

Soleil, on the other hand, had aged gracefully and was a striking beauty. She would never compare to Christine, that was for certain, but she had a rather mythical aura about her. She now stayed in the opera house as Madame Giry's protégé, but she still visited her parents every weekends.

"Madame Giry," Erik greeted, striding towards her and kissing her on the hand. "You are well, I trust?"

She inclined her head. "As well as I can ever be. I am happy to hear that you have finally decided to move here."

"He misses Mama," Little Christine piped up from behind him.

Erik chuckled and gave his daughter a little nudge. "This is Madame Giry, Christy. She was one of your Mama's dearest friends."

Madame Giry smiled warmly at the little girl, who gave her a dazzling smile. "I daresay she is Christine's daughter through and through. She looks exactly like Christine when she was six."

"She does, doesn't she?" Erik lifted his daughter who clung to his neck tightly, giggling.

"And you must be young Erik," Madame Giry said, turning towards the little boy, who had adopted a rather formal stance: back straight, legs slightly apart, and his hands clasped behind his back. "My, you remind me of your grandfather."

"Thank you, Madame Giry," Little Erik said formally. "Everyone says so."

"He certainly has Gustav's spirit," Erik said, pulling his son close. Little Christine tapped playfully at his mask, and he pulled her finger away gently. "Now, now, you know Papa doesn't like it when you touch his mask."

"I want one too!" Little Christine declared. "Everyone says I look like Mama, but they say that I'm like you true and true. So I have to have a mask!"

The adults laughed, including Soleil.

"It's "through and through", dearest," Erik corrected her. "If you insist, then we shall buy you and your brother a mask."

Little Erik tried to look unaffected, but everyone could see that he was fighting back a smile.

"Well. Shall we show you to your rooms?" Madame Giry said, gesturing to the upper floor. Little Christine squirmed and Erik put her down. She immediately tapped her brother on the shoulder and began running.

Little Erik gave a low growl and ran after his sister. "That's not fair, Christy! You're supposed to tell everyone you want to play tag!"

"Catch me if you can, Erik!" Little Christine called, her voice ringing throughout the hallway.

"Soleil, could you go after them and make sure they won't get hurt?" Madame Giry asked. Soleil nodded and hurried after the children.

"I should go too," Nanny Margerethe said, and she followed Soleil, although rather slowly.

Erik faced Madame Giry. "Oh, I don't think they'll get lost. Chrissy and I never got lost in the opera house."

"Ah, but you were there to guide her," Madame Giry reminded him.

"That's true. Thank you for thinking of their welfare."

They climbed the stairs and Madame Giry led Erik down a familiar hallway.

"I debated whether to give you and the children this room," she said as they approached two familiar doors. "Nobody has used it since Christine and… Raoul, so you'll find everything as it was."

She took a large, brass key from her dress pocket and opened the door to Christine's old room. Erik expected it to have a rather musty smell, but he was surprised when Christine's scent greeted his nostrils.

He inhaled deeply and felt as if Christine had enveloped him in her arms. "It smells like… her."

"I kept it in order since the two of you left. Her perfumes are still in there, which would explain the smell." Madame Giry followed him in the room and watched as he explored every bit.

Memories of him and Christine sharing stolen kisses, whispered words of love and passion, and the grief he had felt after carrying her down to his lair washed over him. Erik's heart throbbed painfully, and he had to grip Christine's favorite armchair in order to steady himself.

"Thank you, Madame Giry," was all he managed to say. Madame Giry nodded, as if she understood what was going on through his mind. She soon left him alone, and Erik sat down on the bed.

Again, memories flooded his mind, of the times Christine snuggled up against him. Although they did do a lot of snuggling since they got engaged, this place seemed…special. The bedsprings creaked as he adjusted his weight and lay down and he closed his eyes.

He was painfully aware of someone slowly tiptoeing towards him, and he heard a muffled giggle.

Little Christine.

Erik fought back a smile and he remained perfectly still. A few seconds later she leaped at him and ended up sprawled across his stomach.

"Oof!" Erik exclaimed amidst his daughter's mad giggles. "Christy!"

"Hello Papa," she greeted in her usual perky way. Her long brown hair covered one side of her face and he brushed it off. "Can we go see Mama now?"

"I don't see why not," he replied, ignoring the fact that she had literally knocked the breath out of him.

Christy smiled her adorable cherubic smile and tugged at his hand. Little Erik poked his head in the room and sighed. "Christy, next time don't leave me alright?"

"Why? Scared of the dark?" Little Christine teased, her eyes gleaming maliciously.

"Christy, don't tease your brother," Erik scolded her. He saw Nanny Margerethe plod into the room, followed by Philip, who was carrying their luggage.

"Ah, thank you for bringing them in, Philip," Erik said, giving the young man a smile. "Put them in the corner, please."

Philip nodded and set the bags down before leaving the room. Margerethe sat down on the chair in front of the dresser and fanned herself.

"Nanny Margerethe, I think you should stay here while the children and I visit Christine." Erik pried his daughter off him and stood up. "You look tired."

Nanny Margerethe looked at him gratefully. "Thank you."

Erik tilted his head and gestured to his children. Little Christine immediately fell into step beside him, while Little Erik walked out of the room first.

It was time.

"Mama," Little Christine said, gently touching the image of her mother on the marble slab. Beside her her brother laid the bouquet of white roses on the foot of the tombstone.

Erik and his children were inside his former lair, where he had his wife buried after she had succumbed to her wounds five years ago. He had had his old possessions removed, and the cavern looked empty and bare, save for the shrine that was erected in Christine's honour.

Erik walked up behind his children, the sight of Christine's tombstone bringing tears to his eyes. Little Christine seemed to sense his sorrow because she immediately latched on to his hand and squeezed it.

"Don't cry Papa," she said soothingly. "Mama wouldn't want you to be sad."

Erik forced a smile and looked down at his daughter. His son was looking thoughtfully at Christine's picture before turning towards him.

"I have her eyes," was all he said.

"Yes you do," Erik managed to choke out. "But your sister looks a lot like her."

Little Erik seemed to agree, because he nodded. Little Christine leaned her head against his waist. In silence, they each said a prayer for the woman who had played an integral part in each of their lives.

Wiltshire Estate, England, 1877

Erik woke up with a jolt. His dream had seemed so real, so vivid, that he had felt his heart clench at the thought of Christine's death. Hadn't he seen the smooth marble tombstone that bore her image and her name? Hadn't he felt the cool wind brush his face as he stood in his old lair?

And yet..

Christine made a soft, sleepy noise and rested her arm across his legs. He turned to her and saw that her face was obscured by her thick dark curls.

It was a dream, he told himself. A dream. Christine is alive.

Christine had survived Raoul's attack, thanks to the prompt actions of Madame Giry, who had seen Erik carry his wounded lover across the lobby. Despite his overwhelming grief Erik had the presence of mind to check for a pulse. To his immense relief he found one, albeit faint, and had rushed back to the opera house. It was there where Madame Giry spotted them, and she had immediately brought a doctor (not Richard Chevalier) who tended to Christine's wounds. Erik had met the doctor and Madame Giry as he exited his lair; they had followed the trail of blood that had trickled from Christine's wound.

Christine had a scar on her back as a result, but she didn't mind. In fact it served as a reminder of what they had gone through in order to achieve their happiness.

"Since you have a scar, it was only fitting that I was given one too," Christine once said, smiling.

Still, Erik's blood chilled every time he thought of that dreadful night. What if he had decided to take one of the secret passageways? Madame Giry wouldn't have seen them, and she wouldn't have gotten a doctor in time. Erik was just grateful that his wife was alive.

His wife.

Christine, Erik, and their two children had left England shortly after her recovery, after promising Madame Giry that they would return every other year. Madame Giry had smiled after they told her the whole story.

"I'm happy for the both of you. You deserve your happiness," she had said before they boarded the carriage.

As expected, Christine and Erik were met with a large crowd in England, but to their surprise the Royal Family had warmly embraced Erik as "one of their own." Their wedding was grand, and every aristocrat in England had attended.

Their children, Christine Erika and Erik Christian, became popular in their own right: Little Christine for being as mischievous and inventive as her father (although she was also the proper little lady when the occasion called for it), and Little Erik for being exactly like his grandfather, the late Duke Gustav Daae.

Erik watched his wife's sleeping form and lay back down. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he felt Christine move closer to him, molding her body to fit his. Erik kissed Christine's forehead and slept.

Their moment of peace was shattered when the door to their room burst open and Little Christine, or Christy, as she was usually called, ran inside and jumped on the bed. Her older twin brother, Erik, or "Rick", as he preferred to be called, followed at a much slower pace, his hands clasped behind his back; his usual stance.

"Wake up wake up wake up!" Christy giggled, bouncing on her parents' bed.

Christine was instantly awake and she hugged her daughter; once her son was near enough she kissed him on the cheek. "Good morning my loves," she said, and Rick sat down beside her.

"Mama, is Papa up?" Christy asked, tilting her head to one side.

"I don't know. Do you think he is?"

"No!" Christy clambered over to where Erik lay and she giggled as he gave a loud, exaggerated snore. "Papa!"

Erik continued snoring.

Christy looked over to her brother, who looked back at her with his eyebrows raised.

"Help me wake him up, Rick!" Christy said, and Rick sighed heavily and walked over to his sister and father.

"Father! Father! Father!" the two chanted, until Erik growled, threw the blanket off him, and grabbed his two children, who laughed. "Papa!"

"Who dares disturb my sleep?" Erik grunted, hoisting Christy and Rick over to the middle of the bed. Rick immediately sat up, while Christy lay on her belly and faced her father.

"A big fire-breathing dragon!" she exclaimed.

"A dragon?" Erik feigned surprise, although he knew she was talking about Philip, who loved to smoke tobacco from a pipe. "What does it look like?"

"Philip!" Christy exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air.

Christine laughed in amusement as she picked up her hairbrush and began brushing her hair. "Oh come on Christy and Rick. Time to eat breakfast."

"But we want to eat with you!" Christy protested.

"We always eat together," Rick said in a stage whisper.

"Very well. But give your father and I time to prepare," Christine conceded, smiling fondly at her children.

Rick nodded and got off the bed, while Christy curled up between her mother and father.

"I'm staying right here," she declared, and imitated Erik, who was lying on his side facing Christine.

Erik and Christine laughed.

"Alright, if you insist," Christine said, and she leaned over her daughter and kissed her husband on the lips.

"That's disgusting!" Christy said, and she immediately took off giggling, followed by her brother.

Erik and Christine exchanged a knowing smile as they heard their twin children laugh and tease each other while running down the hallway.

"I love you, wife," Erik told her.

"And I love you too…. husband."

Life was now indeed perfect.

THE END

Author's Note: There you have it folks. The end to a rather long but fulfilling journey. :) I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, and I hope to see you in "Wandering Child", the sequel to this story. The first chapter is up, and you'll get to see Erik and Christine like never before: as parents, and the Duke and Duchess of Wiltshire to boot. ;)

Thank you for reading! :D Reviews and reactions are highly appreciated (but be polite, please. Thank you. :) )