The Phantom Ascending |✔| [Phantom of the Opera Fanfiction]

Charm and Persuasion

"No, Christine. This is supposed to be our vacation. I promised you freedom and summertime, have I not? Well, here it is. Let us travel across this beautiful land, to Tuscany, perhaps? Don't confine yourself to another opera house just yet."

"We could travel, but maybe to Milan," I said, smiling.

Raoul laughed and kissed me.

"To beg for a small role in their La Scala? You don't need that. Leave it be. In a year or two they will come to you."

"Oh Raoul, who knows what will happen by then. Do you expect I will settle in a single opera house to work in the productions there? How will your family feel about that?"

"We will all be proud, and if someone doesn't, well it is their problem if they are snobs."

He made it all sound so easy, but...

"My Little Lotte," he embraced me. "Do not worry. You are not just another prima donna. You are a rising sensation of the opera world. It's been over a year now and they haven't tired of you. They never will. And neither will I."

We shared a kiss. I hesitated but then voiced my worries anyway.

"One critic wrote that my voice was angelic but uninspired."

"There is always that one critic, Christine. Pay no heed to that."

"I know, I know. The problem is that sometimes I feel that way too. My technique... It needs improving."

"Christine. You are being harsh on yourself. And perhaps you have been singing too much over the course of this past year. All the more reason to forget that production they last offered you," he waved toward the papers that have been sent to me by the manager of Teatro La Fenice.

It was a sweet and simple music score, with a role I was sure I could master. Although perhaps it wouldn't harm if, for the time being, I focused my efforts on learning more Italian. I had picked up some of it over the years from being around Carlotta, and now had a local tutor to help me perfect it.

"Of course, Raoul. You are right. My voice needs rest. Perhaps some weeks..."

"I have a better idea. Let this be our premature wedding holiday. We stay here for two months more, return home in early October and prepare a grand ball to celebrate your birthday. In Paris. And then, a week or two later, our wedding, at long last."

He spoke with warmth and enthusiasm. How could I resist him?

"A wedding in November?"

"Is that not romantic enough for you, Little Lotte?"

"Oh, no, I'd love a winter wedding. One in the snow. It snowed when we first kissed," I teased.

"Yes. Well, it won't be winter quite yet, but we can always hope for an early snowfall. Now, leave that opera score be, and join me for a ride in the gondola."

He took me by the hand and I followed, as always.