Little Vipers

The morning of the Masquerade was the quietest I'd ever been since coming here. I was busy making sure everything was perfect for the night's festivities. I hung up my dress to smooth out the wrinkles and rooted around in a box of discarded costume pieces Erik had brought down for me; I found a very nice black velvet choker inside with a circular ruby set on it. It didn't exactly go with the black and gray of my dress, but I liked it. My gown for the night was black with off-the-shoulder sleeves and a modest but full skirt; a gray exposed corset wrapped around the waist with intricate clasps.

However, my main focus was my mask. Going back into the costume box, I had found a simple full-face mask. It was remarkably close to the gray color of my corset, so I quickly went looking for a knife to shave it down. I painstakingly carved away most of the mask, leaving only a diamond shape that would cover my left eye and some of my forehead and cheek. Not satisfied, I went once more to the old costumes. I plucked three long black feathers from a lady's hat and attached them to the points of the diamond, smiling as they curved wonderfully along the side of my head.

It wasn't long before I was throwing my dress over my head, slipping on my corset, tying on my choker, and positioning my homemade mask over my eye. I looked over myself in the mirror in my room once more, thinking about the night ahead. Erik had told me about his plans to reveal himself tonight, with all the fanfare and dramatics the Phantom of the Opera was known for. I had been upset obviously; I thought when he said he had been planning on attending that he was just going, not crashing the Masquerade. I had somehow talked him into a compromise. He could go with me for a while in normal evening attire, then change into his Red Death costume and deliver his opera. He actually hadn't fought me very hard about it, and had played it off by saying he couldn't miss seeing me in a dress finally.

I stepped tentatively out of my room and walked over to Erik, who had his back to me as he stuffed all the music for Don Juan into its leather portfolio. I made a small noise to tell him I was ready. He turned his head to see behind him and noticed me. I smiled just as quietly and took the last steps over to him. He held up a hand before I got too close; I stopped dead as he turned fully around. He was wearing one of his most handsome and tailored suits, and I felt myself bite my bottom lip. As he stood there appraising me I felt awkward, but also felt a deep desire to look beautiful.

"So you are a woman." Erik finally said after several long moments. I laughed softly and stared at the floor, feeling very uncomfortable. I felt the cold leather of Erik's glove on my upper arm and a finger slide under my chin. The small pressure he applied under it made me look up into his face, into his eyes.

"My dear Charlotte," He started softly, all joking tones gone from his voice, "I do believe you could be going to the ball tonight as an angel." I smiled a little, diverting my eyes.

"A dark one, perhaps." I said shyly, dismissively. I touched the feathers curved around my head, as I looked back at him.

"So much the better." Erik assured me, smirking slightly at me as I blushed. He then took my hand to help me into the boat and across the lake.

The Masquerade was in full swing when we arrived. The orchestra, conducted by Monsieur Reyer, was playing a tune as the entrance hall of the Opera Populaire teemed with every costume and ball gown imaginable. Clowns twirled ballerinas by the hand, Matadors bowed to horse jockeys, and every prince had a princess; it was all very exciting.

Feeling much more at ease. I giggled and pulled Erik's hand behind me as I headed for the mass of dancing couples. He obliged me with a dance or two, leading me through the steps as I'd advised him to do. I didn't get to dance much, at least not these formal styles, so I tried my best to keep up. Erik would grip my hand tighter if I mis-stepped, and chuckle at me as he did so.

I was doing much better until I actually fell, my ankles having given out from under me. Erik pulled me into his arms as I squeaked and reflexively wrapped my arms around his neck to keep my balance. My eyes widened, and not from the surprise of falling, but from how close Erik and I had gotten in such a short amount of time. I could feel his hands setting the skin on the small of my back on fire as his sharp eyes bore into mine. My breath was short, but for completely different reasons as the last time Erik had cut my air supply.

The moment was ruined as a mass of pink floated past us on the dance floor, drawing Erik's eyes from mine. A dark shadow fell across his face; I looked after the pink thing myself and stiffened when I saw Raoul de Chagny and Christine Daae dancing their way around the floor in a happy sort of oblivion. Sighing, I looked farther into the crowd to see a few of Carlotta's unfortunate lackeys triumphantly carrying away arm-fulls of bottles. My eyes lit up as an idea came to me.

"Come on." I said to Erik, leading him down the corridor, "I know where there's an even better party." If I knew the stagehands, they'd be having their own "Masquerade" backstage.

"Anything to get away." I heard Erik mutter sadly behind me. I had a new determination in me: I would get that girl out of his head if it killed me.

As we pushed through one of the many doors to the backstage, Erik and I were not disappointed. Here the music was louder, being provided by our own set of drunken musicians; the dancing was faster, a slow waltz replaced with leg-twisting jigs and tarantellas; and the alcohol was readily available, being passed around the masses until every drop was downed. Laughing loudly, I pulled Erik over to a dancing pair and surprised both him and myself by executing it rather convincingly. Erik watched as I got really into it and garnered more and more attention; and with more attention comes more bottles being shoved my way. By the time Erik pulled me out of the crowd, I was feeling very giddy and more than a little under-the-influence. I giggled and fell into him, looping my arms behind his head.

"Come dance with me." I whined, but smiling widely, "You'll have so much fun." I sang, trying to pull away. Erik held my waist tighter, shaking his head.

"Charlotte, you are drunk." He told me sternly, but with a touch of amusement. He brushed some hair away from my face and chuckled.

"I'm not drunk, you're drunk." I giggled, "I'm not!" I said to the look he was giving me.

"I have to go now." He said slowly, leaning in so I was sure to hear him.

"No!" I whined, pouting out my bottom lip, "Stay here. Stay with me." I entreated him childishly, tightening my grip around his neck and nuzzling my face into his neck. I felt him release a quick breath over my head before pulling me far enough away to see my face.

"Duty calls, my dear." Erik told me with finality. I sighed huffily.

"Oh fine! I'll see you back downstairs then." I gave in, "Good luck." I added before reaching up to kiss his unmasked cheek. I pulled away and ran back into the dancing crowd of stagehands, my arms raised above my head as I sang to a song I recognized.

I waited just long enough for Erik to leave, giving him some to change costumes, before running off to the main entrance hall to watch the scene I knew he was about to cause.

Sure enough, just as I found myself a spot to stand, all the lights blew out. Everyone turned to face the top of the right staircase, where a menacing man now stood. Erik looked so intimidating in his red suit and skull mask, but also devilishly handsome.

"Why so silent, good Monsieurs?" He joked as he descended the staircase, "Did you think that I had left you for good?" I had to hold onto the person next to me when I heard his voice.

Never before had I heard Erik sing, except for the brief moment when he had tried to strangle me. I knew his music so well that I thought I could pick it out anywhere, but it hadn't even occurred to me that he had never once sang.

"Are you alright, Mademoiselle?" I heard beside me. In my drunken stupor I had leaned against someone for support, not even realizing how strange a thing it was to do. Turning my head, I saw this person was a young man dressed in an expensive, smart suit.

"Quite." I said to the man before looking back to Erik, "He just sings so well."

"Sings so well?" The man questioned, maybe having mistaken my weak knees for fright "Mademoiselle, don't you know who that is?" I shushed the man to hear better.

"Have you missed me, good Monsieurs?" Erik continued, making me giggle, "I have written you an opera. Here I bring the finished score: Don Juan Triumphant!" And he slammed the portfolio down onto the staircase as if it meant nothing to him.

"He is so dramatic." I gushed stupidly. I felt the man stiffen beside me.

"Mademoiselle, you are ill." He said to me as Erik berated the cast and demanded this and that.

"Oh, I'm fine." I said dreamily as Erik poked the pudgy sultan that was Piangi with his sword.

"Can I at least get your name, if you won't let me help you?" The man asked me, apparently deciding to move the conversation along where he wanted it.

"No, I don't think so." I said, shaking my head and giggling at the frightened looks on Andre and Firmin's faces, "You wouldn't ever be able to use it. I'm not upstairs very often, you see." I blathered, making perfect sense only to myself, and possibly Erik if he were listening to my conversation and not staring at Christine Daae.

Staring at Christine Daae...

I felt my hands slide up to grip my own shoulder as I saw the look he was giving her. I felt my bottom lip tremble as I saw his ragged breaths. And I noticed a sensation of intense jealousy invade my chest as he came to stand in front of her. I even began to glare at the back of her pretty head as he ripped something from her neck and retreated up to the trap door on the landing. People gasped in shock as Erik disappeared in a cloud of red smoke, straight through the floor.

It wasn't as if I didn't know. Of course I knew. Erik had a million pictures and sketches of the girl, not to mention the manikin of Christine in a wedding dress. Erik was obsessed, and I had known that previous to tonight; I hadn't ever seen his reaction to her though. That's what spurned these feelings of jealousy and loathing even.

I was hugely upset and was thinking about running off to have a regretful evening with the boy beside me, who was still mumbling things into my deaf ears; however, I instantly sobered up as that idiot Raoul dove in after Erik, a sword holstered at his waist. My eyes grew wide at his misplaced bravery.

"Stupid boy!" I hissed as I pushed my way over to the concealed door Erik had told me to use to reenter the tunnels. I think he would have been proud to hear me sound so much like him if he weren't almost certainly silencing the idiot now. However, just as I laid my hand on the section of wall under the stairs that would push away, I felt another hand do the same. I looked up, startled, to stare into the face of Madame Giry. We didn't say a word, but immediately had an understanding: she would save Raoul, I would find Erik.

Pushing the wall away, she took the stairs down and to the left while I hiked up my skirts to proceed down and to the right, leaving the frantic sounds of Christine beating on the trap door far behind me.