It was the first performance of the second season, a new opera all shiny and perfected for the patrons of the Opera Populaire. There was a buzz now as the weather began to give way to some warmer temperatures, and, in Raoul's hoping, warmer hearts.

He didn't entirely understand why his brother was being so ridiculous about his love for Arielette, it was almost as though he didn't want him to fall in love with a nice girl with money like her. It was better than falling for one of the opera tarts that Philippe kept recommending him. If it wasn't Christine, it was any of the other ballerinas or singers in the choir.

And while the Swedish Soprano, who he'd been so affectionate with when they were little, was a gorgeous thing, he would still say Arielette was more beautiful any day of the week.

He hated the man who held Arielette's heart, and that was for certain. There was no finding her without him, and though he'd been booted from the opera house many times for attempting to speak with her or influence her towards him, it did not deter his efforts.

How could it? One day, Raoul was certain, there would be a time when he was allowed to have her and make her his wife.

There was no sense in her loving the masked-man, for what did Erik Destler have that Raoul did not? They were both wealthy and had influences all around Paris, but Raoul had one thing Erik did not. Title! Why wouldn't a woman, who lived in a flat with her parents, want to live with a dashing Vicomte and have her every whim fulfilled? Besides the money and the opera, Raoul loved her dearly and would wait on her himself if it was what she wanted. There seemed to be no downfall to him, and many with the Monsieur she was engaged to.

It was shoddy of him to be attempting to usurp a man's fiancee, but Raoul was a determined man, and once people saw why his efforts were necessary, they would cease to judge him poorly. She deserved more, or so Raoul imagined.

Christine Daae was to be the star of the newest set, her experience as Prima Donna limited, but more than enough. Raoul was assured that she was the best soprano around Paris at the moment, but he had also heard rumors that Arielette sang. Why she hadn't been offered a part in the opera was of a big concern to him, If she possessed talent far greater than Christine's then she should rightfully own the title of Prima Donna. Raoul had decided that beyond his charm and good looks, he would provide her with a career as well.

Many women wanted to work, but many did not in fear of not being able to rear children for their husbands, but Raoul was a progressive man. He wanted his wife to simply be happy, and while the arts had been even a consideration for him one day, that talent of his was squashed by his older brother. The moment he took over the estates Raoul was no longer allowed to practice music which was one of the reasons he'd been so sad to leave Christine. They'd sung together many times, and how affectionate they'd become!

He wondered what that closeness would do for himself and Arielette.

Still, as he traveled towards the opera, he did realize he'd made a mistake the prior evening. He had been out of line in attempting to ask Arielette out on a date, it simply wasn't done, and good thing only a few of them were there. If Destler had been there, Raoul certainly would have been dead... or worse. Not that Philippe had been happy with him or Lestat, but it just boggled his mind about how complicit they could be.

They were close with both parties, and sure Monsieur Lestat and Philippe knew how odd the masked-man was? He wasn't worth the expensive shoes he stood in, and Raoul wanted to be that better thing for Arielette. Sure she was older than him, but that wasn't uncommon. Many women married later if they were the only child. Once they finished caring for their parents, then it was their turn to have children to take care of them. Of course, this left only the younger men to marry them so that was there was assurance that someone would be able to look after the children.

He thought of the children he and Arielette could have, and mourned briefly for the likely end of his family's gorgeous blonde hair.

Philippe was getting rather old, and while Raoul was in his prime twenties, his brother was not. His brother was reaching fifty, and quickly, and if he didn't snatch a woman before all of his hair turned grey, the effort would be useless. Raoul would end up with the title Comte when Philippe died or he himself had children before him, and that was a morbid thought. He hadn't ever wanted the spotlight in such a way as death, and maybe he should encourage a woman for him. Maybe he could have Christine, the heaven's knew they had all pushed her on him enough.

Raoul had never been infatuated with a woman before, and as he thought of it, one hadn't even endeared to him in the slightest since Christine. Something about the girl had captured him, but now he was captured by another.

The opera was all hustle and bustle, and Raoul was surprised to see so many people around. Their dinner the prior evening, which he did suppose he must apologize for his behavior during, had been private and secluded, not a single peep from staff who wasn't supposed to be there. Then he'd expected the hectic ways of the masquerade ball, there were many people invited, but this was... different. Working hours hadn't ever occurred to him to be such a way. Some part of him, however small the part was, thought the actors and dancers simply went on stage and... performed.

He sat a few rows back from the managers and directors of the opera, attempting to remain unseen as the progress folded out before him. They were a very talented group of individuals, and Raoul scoffed at his doubt that they wouldn't be. With perfectionists like Destler and Lestat, there was little surprise in him about the standards to which the performers were held.

Christine was a vision. Her voice was something Raoul thought unimaginable, and from the days of their youth, she'd grown to be better than anyone he'd ever heard. His experience was not limited, either.

When the rehearsal had broken for lunch, Raoul rushed to apologize to Christine.

The halls were crowded, everyone seeming rather upset to see his presence at all, but it did not faze him. Raoul was persistent in his travels and reached Christine's dressing room in a matter of moments.

He knocked, feeling somewhat like a child as he did so. Why was he nervous?

There was no answer to his knock, but the door opened slightly at his force, so he took this as permission to enter. Then, he certainly wished he hadn't.

Of course, seeing Destler with his face pressed to Christine's their foreheads touching and eyes closed was good enough reason in Raoul's mind to incriminate the bastard. Arielette would be his in no time. Their arms were wrapped around one-another, and it would have been a touching sight if the two people were anyone else in the entirety of the opera.

He must have made some type of noise because both looked up, though neither seemed too inexplicably concerned by his presence.

"Monsieur le Vicomte," the masked-man said with a smile, looking completely relaxed as he placed a kiss to Christine's lips quickly, something friendly and utterly teasing. Raoul knew something else was going on, however, it simply had to be.

Christine wasn't short of a blush, either, and Raoul couldn't imagine why she would be fond of him. He was a spindly man of who knew how many years, and he wasn't the ideal look of handsomeness. In fact, how anyone at all could be attracted to a man like that, he had no idea. It was strange how his own brother was so fond of him, yet he had seen so little of the masked man in his youth.

"You're positively terrible! The both of you."

"Monsieur, you have lost your mind," Erik replied to him bluntly, rolling his eyes and stalking from the room. Raoul had truly expected more.

"Raoul, what anyone does here is none of your business," Christine told him, acting rather icy to him as she headed towards her vanity. What had happened to her fascination with him everyone had been insinuating?

He tried to shake the event from his head, but he just couldn't.

"Are you not friends with Miss Lestat? I thought that... what's going on, Christine?"

"Raoul," she commanded lightly, turning in her chair and glaring at him, "I am friends with Arielette, and the things that happens in this opera have little to do with you."

"You've said," he offered meekly, feeling as though he'd been rightly put in his place. "I came here to apologize, anyways, not make enemies of those I once considered friends."

"Then do so and go, please."

"I've acted poorly towards you, and last night I made unwanted advances on Arielette to which I must apologize for to her. I am deeply sorry for the ass I've been making of myself. The way I've treated you included."

He knelt before her and took her hands in his, his smile unsure as he felt how cold her hands were. They were a blissful remedy to his clamminess, however.

"Thank you, Raoul... I'm assuming by now you've gathered that papa has died."

Raoul had been so caught up in everything, he hadn't even stopped to ask about Gustave over the past few months. What a terrible man he had been for not asking.

"Yes," he lied anyways, "He will be deeply missed. He taught me many wonderful things about practical life and music."

Christine smiled, "His death is what brought me to Erik. Well, I'd been taking lessons from him for years when papa died, but after that we became intimate-" Raoul wasn't sure if he wanted to be hearing this- "And then we were engaged. I adore Erik."

He held his tongue on the fact that if there was something still going on between them, then they were both hurting Arielette, which he would not stand for.

"And he betrayed you," he pointed out, however.

"He did, but I don't want to dwell. Do you like the opera so far?" She wondered, letting go of his hands.

He wondered where all his own warmth had gone and decided that it must have left to her icy hands. Shaking his head and standing back up, he replied quickly.

"You are all very talented, Christine. Especially you. This only makes me wonder why everyone hides Arielette in the wings."

She furrowed her brows, putting down whatever instrument she had been using on her face.

"What do you mean?"

"I have heard rumors that she is better than you, no offense, of course. You are seraphic, but if she is better and Monsieur Destler loves her so, then why isn't she the Prima Donna?"

Christine smirked. "You're a fool, Raoul. Arielette doesn't care for performing. Erik tried his hardest to get her up there, and yet she refused everyone, even her father. The stage is not her calling."

He felt this was rather odd. Even he had felt the siren call of the performer's success many a time. Christine knew that. Applause, an adoring audience, the adrenaline rush. What more could one ask for?

"This did not please him, I imagine," he said despite his thoughts.

Christine released a small laugh.

"No, why do you think he was here?"

Suddenly, she looked as though she wasn't supposed to have said anything, becoming quite stern in her stance after that.

"I think it's time you leave," Christine told him, her voice hard as stone and blue eyes even more challenging.

He must have looked like a child in a confection's shop, having just discovered the newest and most flavorful sweet. This was why he kept his hopes up for Arielette, they were meant to be, and with two lovers behind her back... how would she not fall right into his arms?