A/N: Hello. This is my first Phantom of the Opera fanfic. Just an idea that hatched in my mind. You can read an extended summary on my profile. I know this prologue is hardly satisfying; I promise to add some chapters of actual substance in the near future. I have basically gotten the entire story planned out, except for a few gaps in the middle that I will fill up later. For now, please read this prologue (or the summary on my profile) and give me some feedback on the idea. Thank you!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything original to Phantom of the Opera. My humble possessions merely consist of the book, film, soundtrack, and Susan Kay's Phantom.

HISTORICAL NOTE: The castle mentioned in this story, Schloss Rattenberg, was built in the 10th or 11th century as a defense structure against raiders and such. In the present day, all that remains are the castle's ruins, save for one preserved tower. According to my research, the Schloss Rattenberg was still in use during the 1300s. However, for my own purposes, I will tweak the facts and assume that in the time of my story, the castle was already in ruins. It's called artistic license, folks.

Prologue

In which the author of this singular work introduces the Reader to a love story

1372 – Inn River, Bavaria, Germany

Two travelers dismounted from their horse upon reaching the entrance of the riverside lodge. One, an elderly man with sharp eyes, went to deal with the innkeeper who had stepped outside to greet them. The other, a golden-haired youth, affectionately patted her mount and fed him a carrot.

"See you later, César," said the girl, kissing his muzzle. "I'll see if I can smuggle any sugar cubes from the innkeeper's wife before I visit you in the stables," she whispered conspiratorially before relinquishing the white steed to the stable boy.

She ran back to her older companion, where he was engaged in a discussion with the innkeeper about their itinerary. "So you just came from Innsbruck?" the latter inquired. "If you're on the way to Rattenberg, just cross the Inn River here and the village is less than a mile's way from there, ein Zugereister."

"Thank you, but I'm not exactly a foreigner, you know," said the old man, referring to the title the innkeeper had unwittingly bestowed on him.

"Oh?"

The traveler's eyes had a faraway look in them. "I had lived here for some time about a decade ago," he explained. "Are the glass statues still there?" At this query, the innkeeper started and regarded the man as if seeing him for the first time.

"Ten years ago," the innkeeper murmured thoughtfully, "so you were there when the…tragedy occurred?" The traveler nodded, looking world-weary and melancholy. No longer in the mood to talk, he motioned to his female companion to accompany him up the stairs to their temporary room. The little girl skipped up the stairs, two steps at a time, babbling about her conversation with the innkeeper's wife.

"…She was telling me about some of the local superstitions, and I heard you say to her husband that you used to live in the village across the river. Do you know anything about the Phantom of the Schloss, Papa?" The old man froze while unlocking the door to their room, bringing a halt to her chatter.

After a long pause, he sighed and said, "Yes, I know a thing or two about the Phantom of the Castle. In fact, if you want we can visit the ruins of the Schloss Rattenberg once we reach the town. But whatever the innkeeper's wife told you, I assure you that it is not just some local legend. The Phantom was real, flesh and all." What little flesh he had on that pitiful skeleton of his, he silently added.

The girl's interest was definitely piqued. She sensed a story coming on. "Won't you tell me more? Please, Papa, please!" she pleaded, batting almond-shaped eyes and pouting her cherubic lips. At the tired man's assent, she squealed happily. "Is it a horror story? A fairy tale? Or is like one of the tales in The Arabian Nights?"

The old man pensively stroked his dark beard before answering, "No. Oh, I suppose it is a combination of all those things, but that is not the center of the tale. No, my child, what I am about to tell you is, first and foremost, a love story."