Chapter 21: One Year Later

Christine walked hand in hand with her husband through the busy streets of Paris. Erik had become a well-known celebrity among the upper class of Paris, but still earned a few odd looks from the few who did not know him. It was not within a twenty-mile radius of his comfort zone to go walking about in public, but he managed well enough with his wife's hand in his.

"Good morning, M. Erik!" a cheery woman called, waving from her shop window. He only nodded and avoided eye contact.

"Good grief, Erik, you act like it's such a chore to go on walks- and to a proposal as well!" She rolled her eyes at him, smiling even if his expression seemed to grow even darker.

"Just like Nadir to plan a proposal in the middle of a crowd, where he knows I will be most uncomfortable!" Her laugh gave him no reason to regret his comment. After all, if he could make her laugh, why shouldn't he poke fun at his friends? I have friends, plural. Putting a plural on that title was one of his great achievements in life, second to marriage. Christine kissed his masked cheek, and he wished he could take off the shell of bone to feel her lips.

"And I thought only fathers disliked witnessing proposals." In reply, he spun her around and held her about the waist, one hand over her abdomen. Behind them, Gustave Daae, cured of consumption by Erik's neurotically accurate medicines, walked along, listening in.

"I can hear you perfectly well," he announced, "and I can assure you that I thoroughly enjoyed the proposal." He sighed when the couple ignored him for the moment and carried on with their conversation.

"May I remind you, Madame wife, that I am a father?" She laughed and kissed him in public, not caring how frivolous people thought she was.

"Yes, yes you may. Oh, look, we're almost there!" The park was in sight, and so were Eter and Artur, mainly because the gigantic man's attempt to hide behind a tree was absolutely pathetic, and a little woman clinging to the boughs of a tree was quite a novel sight. Christine tugged him along behind her, almost skipping in her eagerness. She thought it was wonderfully romantic, though not as exciting as her own betrothal to Erik.

He had slipped a ring onto her finger after her debut performance and announced their engagement to the entire audience…and then asked if she would accept. She had, of course, and they sang the love duet that he had written as the encore. The orchestra had been able to follow, surprisingly. She learned later that he'd had them learn the music beforehand, planning everything to perfection. She rather loved him for that.

The plan for Nadir's proposal was rather different, and naturally less grandiose. Gustave caught up, and together, they watched as he carried on a casual conversation with his lover, acting as if they were simply on one of their normal, uneventful outings. Christine smiled at her old (but still active father) and said, "You did not have to come, pappa. You should be home, resting."

"Nonsense, min prinsessa. I intend to be a viable part of your life. Let us say that I have become quite the romantic in my old age." Eter huffed down at the group and scowled, dark eyebrows edging closer together.

"We must be quiet!" she whispered, and resumed watching, waiting for her cue.

Artur looked up and winked at his most constant companion. "As you wish, G-zha Eter."

"…All the same, I do wish Eter was here," Nadir said, looking off into space as if daydreaming. Anna's jaw dropped indignantly as he pretended to ignore her.

"I say, Copper-" She waved in front of his face to get his attention.

Eter climbed down from her perch in the trees and skipped forward and sat down on their shared picnic blanked, Artur following close behind. He casually helped himself to half of Anna's meat pie. The small young lady smiled up at Nadir. "Hello. This is where you wanted me to meet you, yes?" She proceeded to chat with him in Turkish.

"Copper, jus' wha's goin' on?" The Turk man did not respond, only snickered inwardly. She must be green with envy.

From another direction, Marcus and the young stagehand he was courting appeared. She was not stocky, but very strong looking, with a soft, demure look to her eyes that hinted at hidden sweetness to any man wise enough to look. "Bonjour, M. Khan." She looked around at the growing group of people as she seated herself in the grass. "I did not expect company. The way you invited me here, I thought perhaps you wished to see me alone." Then she forced a blush and a coy glance. Anna began to suspect something strange was occurring. Almost no man would tolerate his woman flirting with someone else's lover. Even so, her jealous temper was only slightly restrained.

"Care t'tell me why ev'ry lass seems t'have set 'er sights on ya?" Her query was met with another lack of response. Instead, he continued chatting with Eter and Marcus' young lady. Even more trouble arrived as Christine and her husband stepped into the scene.

At this point, some of the people walking by started to stare at the unusually large number of people sitting in the damp grass. Nadir's attitude further irked the unknowing alto as he asked how Christine's unborn child was doing and placed a hand on her still-flat stomach.

Ugh, tha' eejit canno' see tha' if 'e goes on like this, I'm gonna leave 'im… Then she noticed a little velvet box sticking out of her lover's coat pocket, its rims crusted with mother-of-pearl and little rubies. Hmmm, wonder wha's n'there…looks expensive. With everyone else deep in conversation, she tuned out and picked the pocket easily.

The box itself was nearly priceless, and the deep sapphire ring within had probably cost more than her full year's salary. She decided to cause a ruckus. "Wha' th'bloody 'ell's goin' on 'ere?!" Her shout disturbed more than a few passerby.

Erik: "Anna."

Christine: "Iseal."

Eter: "Will."

Artur: "You."

Marcus: "Marry."

Gustave: smiled his most encouraging and warmest smile and directed Anna's attention to the next person to speak.

Nadir: "Me?"

Anna: "At this point, I really can't say anythin' other than 'yes,' can I?"

Everyone: burst out laughing at her condescending façade. Even so, the happiness in her eyes showed itself in the form of tears as she tackled Nadir in what was likely the tightest hug he had received in his entire life, regardless if she intended to asphyxiate him or not.

Even Erik deigned to succumb to laughter and a bit of good fun. "Why Nadir, I thought you'd never ask!" The Daroga glared at him.

"Shut your musically inclined gob, Erik."

"What?" he replied defensively, "I was simply stating the words on the woman's mind."

"Actually, when ev'ryone started bein' able to distract Khan 'cept me, my mind was on leavin' this li'l prick an'… Well, y've got nothin' to worry 'bout now. I'm goin' t'marry ya!" the redhead announced again, ruffling his normally neat dark hair.

"And I am officially the happiest man in existence," Nadir crowed. Life was good. So was engagement.

…

Christine sat at the desk in her shared bedroom and spread a sheet of stationary before her, recounting the past few weeks. A letter that summarized everything in the past month was certainly hard to write, considering the amounts of significant events that had bombarded everyone in the opera.

Dear Ciara,

It is my great pleasure to tell you that I am now expecting Erik's child! I have a few worries that he or she will be visually imperfect (though I will love him or her just the same), but my sweet husband is certain that any baby produced by my body and love so pure is sure to be perfect.

We have been quite busy here at the opera, and nearly all our singers are engaged or married. In fact, there is something new happening every month, it seems, so I will do my best to inform you. As I have mentioned before, I know you have never personally met these people, but I can assure you that they all played important roles in the events that led to your current situation; hence, I feel that you should know them, and perhaps meet them in the near future.

Meg and her husband recently inherited the estate they lived on and all the riches attached because the Baron Castelot died of drug abuse; opium, apparently. While it is decent to mourn any death, I cannot say I felt any sympathy for the baron, even in his passing. Salim, as I have told you, was kept from a title I believe he truly deserved, but now they are the M. le Baron and Mme. la Baronne de Castelot-Barbezac. Already they have left their print on Parisian society. I took a walk past some of the boutiques that Meg used to visit, and the newest fashions include plenty of scandalous tulle and dainty silk slippers with ribbons that fasten almost like the ones on pointe shoes. This might be because she has chosen to continue dancing, whether aristocrats approve or not.

Eter and Artur have their own prolific happiness as well, but have decided to postpone their honeymoon to Russia until after the end of this season at the opera. He intends to show her his 'Motherland' and all its power and beauty, which I would find quite a bit sweeter if Russia had friendlier climates. During the off season, much of his native land is covered in sleet and thick blizzards- at least, this is so in the region he hails from.

I would be leaving out the most recent things if I failed to include the engagement of Anna and Nadir, which was solidified but a few hours before I began writing this letter. She is understandably relieved, and I would be as well if I'd had to wait more than a year for my Erik to propose to me. Their wedding will be at the end of the season, just before M. and Mme. Glubokiy leave for Russia. However, with all the time the poor woman has been forced to wait, I shall not be surprised if she steals M. Khan's planner and changes the dates to the middle of the season in her impatience!

Marcus, ever the late bloomer, is courting a young woman by the name of Evelyn. She is from the lower class of Paris, a hard worker and very sweet and honest. She does not fit the standard of the slim, delicate beauty, but has great strength physically and spiritually, and wears it well. It is no wonder that he looks at her as if she is the most precious diamond in the sky. Sometimes I wonder if it is truly right to call Marcus Ischyros a late bloomer, though. He was so young when he came to the opera, as was I, but I felt older than I was. He must have been just sixteen years of age. When I gaze upon him now, I still see a very young man. He has a promising life ahead of him.

I am so glad to hear that your new life with Philippe is peaceful at last. It must feel wonderful to settle in one, secluded place instead of constantly jumping trains, buggies, or walking on foot from town to town. The irony has not escaped me in that Philippe has settled in the country he thought he would declare war upon. Germany must be beautiful during these summer months, and I do wish I could visit with you in person.

It makes me quite happy to hear that his ring is on your finger and you have experienced intimacy together. Trust me, it will become one of your greatest joys to know exactly what he looks like, inside and out, even if your eyesight is nonexistent. I often find myself wishing that I could hear you speak now, after a year of learning to speak French and understand German. Soon, you will be able to speak to anyone, whenever you like, and I am excited for my trip to your new residence during the winter.

Sincerely, Mme. Christine Daae Destler.

Erik, still undoing his cravat, strode over to kiss her temple and look over the letter. "I see you still enjoy wearing out my pens with the name you picked for us."

She smiled up and pressed her lips to his unmasked face. It had taken her a few weeks to get used to his look without the intimidating tiger-bone mask, but now he was just as beautiful to her as his music. "Well, I had to pick out something nice that suited the both of us." She sighed as her fingers undid the first few buttons of his dress shirt. "Mmmh…come down here so I can kiss you properly," she said, feeling the familiar warmth spread through her.

"Was that an order, madam wife?"

"Yes, now kiss me," she repeated, playfully pinching his arm. He swatted at her wandering hands and took them in his own.

"Well, who am I to deny a woman in need?"

…

Dear Christine,

I can hardly understand how good Philippe is to me now. He makes me happy, and I him. I know my letter must seem short in comparison to yours, but I like to write these myself, and my handwriting is shamefully shaky.

Philipe has left all his money and prestige behind him, and now we rent an apartment. He works as a lawyer and I have found work training the young men who plan to enter Germany's military. Sometimes he joins me in directing their drills, and no one in this small town seems to mind my appearance. Other times, we dance together during the miniature festivals, and people hand us a few extra coins and notes for our performance. I sense nothing special but what we have always done, but everyone around us gasps when we go airborne together, whirling, upside down. That is what it must feel like to fly.

Just as when we dance, everything we do is together. It is a good change from my loneliness. We have even made some friends. There is a sense of trust in this little place that is absent in big cities like Paris, so I think I will stay here for the remainder of my life. Everyone seems to know what I need, even if I can only speak a few words compared to their whole sentences. I am accepted here.

We are content, and for once, I can say that with utter certainty.

Until we meet again, Ciara Daestro de Chagny.

…

The opera's season flew by faster than ever, but Christine was not allowed to participate in most of the later productions. Her frame had begun to swell, and in a few months, she lost her ability use her diaphragm as she once had. This upset her greatly for a while, but Erik soothed her by claiming that their child would be the greatest and most virtuosic singer in all of history. This would be proved nearly true, for their first child, Nadia, would eventually take the stage name Geraldine Farrar and debut at the Metropolitan Opera in New York as Marguerite.

Nadia was quite a handful of a girl, running everywhere, singing everything, and talking always of shows and meeting Ciara and Philippe (which she had done every winter until she was four, but did not remember). So, they took their little girl and were met with another child on their way up the mountain path to the house Philippe had bought; it was a young boy, pale as sun on snow, with hair of the lightest gold possible. Erik muttered something about semi-albinism and followed him into their guest rooms.

It was always slightly awkward to share drinks with the man who had kidnapped his wife, but he owed his current happiness with a family of four (counting Gustave Daae) to the former duke, so he supposed it was worthwhile. Of course, Gustave preferred to stay home in his little house with the Bennue family, claiming that he was too old to travel, but Christine always suspected that he did not wish to meet the man he felt deserved a chamber pot in the face.

When they returned from their little vacation, Christine found herself with child again, and this time Erik had to hire a replacement (not Guidicelli, but someone far superior) for the season, insisting that she needed rest and quiet life, though she felt the need for quite the opposite. When the baby boy arrived, however, she found her hands full, so Erik sent Nadia off to one of Paris' boarding best schools.

It was with tears and solemnity that Christine named their son Gustave, for on the day he was born, her father died in his sleep. After the funeral, her sadness was no more. Little Gustave took after his father, even inheriting a very slight cleft lip and a penchant for sneaking and startling everyone- that is, everyone except Erik himself. But said father was very proud of Gustave, for he showed an instinct for music, a flair for acting, and even the various arts of combat.

He also developed a habit of taking the silverware away with him after his meal. This might have been because his constant company consisted of Anna, Nadir, Eter, and Artur, who took him on adventures throughout the city. A great many restaurants found themselves missing napkins, candles, pastries, and tips. Erik tried to deter them, but could not, for Nadir knew exactly how to twist his arm in order to whisk his son away on another outing.

The other couples within the opera chose not to have children, but fortunately, that was not in their control. Eter was sure she was growing round, fatigued, and sick from something. The doctor told her to stay in bed for the last two months of the pregnancy, for her small body would have difficulty holding such a strong, heavy infant. The cast of the opera grew again as more replacements and understudies were hired, one for Eter, and the other for Anna, who insisted on continuing to perform as soon as she could afford to leave her mischievous little girl at home without her wrecking the place. Nadir could only sigh at this declaration, re-confiscate his pocketbook from his daughter's nimble olive hands, and mutter that he truly lived in a den of thieves. Ali Baba would have been proud to add these two bandits to his band of forty.

All was right with the world. Often, they would reminisce a few years back, laughing at the unlikely and providential events that led to their current places in life. Then, they would look to the future with eagerness for whatever else life could toss them.

No one got the pop quiz? Well, I shall tell you, and you can request anything except smut!

I borrowed the title of Chapter 20 from the musical Fiddler on the Roof. It is the name of one of the songs.

The characters are Reb Tevye and his wife Golde.

As far as I know, the piece takes place in their little house in a Russian town called Anatevka.

Tevye and Golde are Russian Jews.

They first met on their wedding day, as it was an arranged marriage.

So, tell me in your reviews what you might like me to write, should you so wish it! Thank you all very much for reading my humble work!