"Lot 665 is next."
The auctioneer motioned one of the men over to showcase the object.
"This is a paper-mache music box in the shape of a barrel organ. and attached to it, a single figure of a mocking bird. It was found deep in the opera house, and is still in working order," he said loudly.
"Showing here," the porter said, as he showed the music box.
The bidding started, some offering fifteen pounds, another twenty, and then someone offered thirty pounds.
"Going once, going twice, sold!"
A middle-aged man with graying hair and blue eyes was wheeled up by his aid to the auctioneer to collect his prize. It was a cold early spring day as items were auctioned off where the Opera Popular was once in use, before what had happened years ago.
The man looked down at the object. It was a music box, with a bird standing atop it, wings spread. When the handle was cranked, it trilled a soft tune.
A collector's piece indeed, the man thought, as his fingers caressed it.
Every detail was exactly as she had described it. The mockingbird, it's plumage of soft grays and browns shone dully in the light, it's glass amber eyes unblinking and polished.
Will you sing for us, now that we're all dead?
"Lot 666 is next," the auctioneer stated, "a chandelier in pieces. Some of you may recall the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera, a mystery never fully explained."
An old woman with graying/whiting orange hair and yellow-green eyes glanced over at the old man, and he returned her gaze knowingly.
"We are told ladies and gentlemen, that this is the very chandelier which figures in the famous disaster. Our workshops have restored it and fitted up parts of it with wiring for the new electric light, so that we may get a hint of what it may look like when reassembled."
A soft and pensive expression crossed the auctioneer's face. "Perhaps we may frighten away the ghost of so many years ago with a little illumination," he said softly, before he turned to the other porters, "Gentlemen?"
With that, the porters heaved up a crude crystal chandelier, it's original candle-holding notches had been rewired and replaced with light bulbs, glowing eerily and awkwardly as they flickered on, casting light the dusty and decaying Opera House, shadows sanding about like something out of a nightmare...
The British Opera House stood tall and proud in the summer sunlight, white marble shinning brilliantly underneath the blue sky. A carriage pulled up to the entrance, revealing two men. The first had dirty blond hair tied back in a ponytail, grey-blue eyes, and worse a black dress coat, white cloves and grey dress shoes. His companion had orange hair, sharp cerulean blue eyes, and wore a grey dress coat and black dress shoes.
The two men took a moment to examine the house before they went inside.
In the halls just behind and around the stage and auditorium, there was no way to describe the scenes and events other than very controlled chaos.
Actors and chorus members alike were rushing to get make-up, costumes, run over lines and dances, while set-builders checked over the scenery and made sure that the paint wasn't chipping. A young woman with orange hair and green-yellow eyes directed various dancers, including two fifteen year old girls, one with pale sandy hair in a braid and lavender eyes, and one with blonde hair in a ponytail and red eyes.
Other backstage workers sculpted body doubles, painted masks, added finishing touches to wooden and leather animals, and made last-minute touches to costumes.
A young man with silver-white hair, wearing a blue suit, white cravat, black boots and a black dress coat was across his lap looked out from his stagecoach as it drove by the streets and people.
"Jeremiah," the young man said, addressing his servant, "how soon may we arrive at the Opera House?"
"Just a few more minute, sir," Jeremiah stated from where he guided the two horses, one grey, one brown.
The stage was enormous. In the auditorium, it reached to the very ends of the wall, rounded off in a curve. Wine red curtains were folded back so the actors could practice. Tonight was the night that the opera they had been working on for months at a time, would finally be showcased tonight.
On the stage, a young girl with red hair piled up in two pigtails, gold hoop earrings, robes of gold, red and bronze, her arms bare but for two gold braces on her wrists, and a headdress atop her cranium, sang her lines as the workers adding some more touches to the fake Elephant and the scenery behind her.
"The trophy, from our saviors, from our saviors, from the enslaving force of Rome!"
The young girl then tossed aside the plaster skull before some of of her underlings set a cloak of pearls and gold on her shoulders as the chorus girls came out.
"With feasting and dancing and song, tonight in celebration
We bring the victorious thong, returned to bring salvation!"
"We're here, Milord," Jeremiah stated as he brought the horses to a halt.
The young man stepped out of the stagecoach before Jeremiah took the black dress coat and set it on his lord's shoulders before they both walked to the Opera House.
The members of the male chorus sang out, their bass tones ringing as they came on stage.
"The trumpets of Carthage resound! Hear, Romans, now and tremble!
Hark to our step on the ground!"
With that, the female chorus joined them for the next line.
"Hear the drums, Hannibal comes!"
At that, a young man came onstage with cerulean blue hair and blue eyes, wearing a mask of yellow and red, while another figure with the same hair color, but with yellow eyes, mimicking the first's motions and motions of the lips.
"Sad to find the lands we love, threatened once more by Roma far-reaching grasp-"
Just then, the music was cut off, much to the actors and the conductors, a young woman with dark green hair tied back, indigo eyes and a pale red dress, annoyance. She turned as the owner, a man with light blond hair, lavender eyes, a white suit coat and gloves, led in the two men from earlier.
Of course the actors didn't know who they were, but you, the audience, do.
"Sir-" she began.
"As you can see, the rehearsals are underway for the new production of Chalumeau's "Hannibal"," the man said, dictating the two across the stage and the orchestra area and members.
"Mr. Schneizel Elayann, we are in the middle of a number!" the young woman protested, upset that they had been interrupted.
Schneizel smiled apologetically. "Forgive me, but I must have everyone's attention."
At that he addressed everyone. "Maestro Einstein, Lady Fenette! Ladies and gentlemen alike; please, if I could have all of your attention, that would be appreciated."
The actors, orchestra members, dancing instructor, maestro and set-members gathered around their manager, the one who ran the opera house from the outside.
"As you all know, rumors have been circulating of my imminent retiring. The rumor of my retirement, at least, are true. I am here to introduce the co-owners who will now own the Opera Popular, Sirs Kewel Soresei and Dietard Reid," Schneizal said, gesturing to the two men. The people around clapped politely.
"And," Schneizel said, smiling, "I am also very honored to introduce the Opera house's new Patron, Lord Thurston."
"I'm honored to support any and all arts, especially here at the Opera Popular," the young lord said humbly.
With that, the young man with silver hair and blue eyes came in, flanked by his servant, Jeremiah. The girl with sandy brown hair eyes widened when she saw him.
"What is it?" the blonde girl asked.
"I know him," she whispered softly, a fond smile touching her lips, "he was a childhood friend of mine when I was little. But I doubt he remembers me."
"Lucky," her friend chuckled, elbowing the other playfully, "What I wouldn't give to have a hot childhood friend, and a lord at that."
"Viscount, and gentlemen," Schneizal said as he led them over to the red-haired girl, "this is our leading soprano for two seasons running, Carline Neidrick, as well as her partner, Castor Ruimenerg and his brother, Pollux."
"It's an honor to meet you," Lord Thurtson said kindly, bowing his head to her, "I believe you are in the middle of a rehearsal? I apologize for interrupting."
"Thank you, Milord," Maestro Einstein said in an almost curt voice before addressing Carline, albeit with a kinder tone, "Whenever you're ready, ma'am."
Carline nodded absently, her eyes following the Viscount, glittering flirtatiously as she got to her place again as the dancers came out. Dietard and Kewell followed Lady Fenette as she directed them around said dancers.
"Here at the Opera house, we take pride in both our dancers and singers," she said, gesturing to the men and women performing.
"No small wonder why," Dietard remarked before he looked at the blonde girl from earlier, "especially that little angel right there."
"My daughter, Alice Fenette," she replied.
"And that one over there is quite lovely," Kewel said, looking over at the brunette, "I trust there's no relation?"
"Nunnally Lamperouge," Lady Fenette answered, "one of the more promising performers in the theater."
"Bid welcome to Hannibal's guests, the elephants of Carthage!"
"'Lamperouge', you said? She wouldn't happen to be related to the famous American pianist Lelouch Lamperouge, would she?" Dietard asked.
"His only sister," Lady Fenette replied, "When he died, she was sent overseas to the opera house at the age of six."
"As quides on our conquering quests, Dido sends Hannibal's friends!"
"It's such a pity, especially after losing her parents as well; she's a mere orphan now," Kewel said sympathetically, though his eyes gleamed.
"I consider her a child of mine as well, Sir Soresei," Lady Fenette said, her expression cold.
A moment later, the fake elephant was rolled out as the chorus members gathered around. The orchestra's music swelled along with their voices, filling the auditorium.
"The trumpeting elephants sound,
Hear, Romans now, and tremble!
Hark to their step on the ground,
Hear the drums,
Hannibal COMES!"
With that, the chorus members performed the last steps of the dance and the music swelled one last time before the number ended.
"Astounding," Lord Thurston murmured.
"AHG!"
Carline threw down her headdress angrily. "It's all well and good if all the people want to see is the chorus!" she spat, "Well, I'm sure that the Lord Thurtson will be very happy to see all of your dancing, because I quit! Carline's out, PEACE!"
Kewel and Dietard looked startled at this and turned to Schenizal. "What do we do to get her to stay?!" they both hissed frantically.
"Grovel," Schneizal said simply, "and do it well."
Dietard and Kewel stared at him before Schenizal said, "What are you waiting for? Go on," and gestured them over to the spoiled soprano.
"Yeah that's right! I'm outta here!" Carlin continued, "Get my luggage, get my perfume and get my chocolate!"
"Wait please, we implore you, Bella diva!" Dietard cried, gesturing to her almost reverently.
"Your audience needs and adores you, the Goddess of song!" Kewel pleaded, his voice loud and reverent.
Carline blinked before she huffed. "Ugh, fiiiiiiine!"
"Maestro Einstein, isn't there a lovely aria for Lady Carline in act 3?" Kewel asked the young woman.
"Of course there is!" Carline snapped, a cowl on her face again, "except someone forgot to finish my costume, and my hat is utterly, in lacking of a better word, shitty!"
"But you would look lovely in anything, my lady. Will you not indulge us in a private rendition?" Dietard requested, "Unless our Maestro says otherwise."
"And what say you?" Kewel said to the young woman.
"If Lady Diva wishes is," Maestro Einstein said politely.
"Yes, and I do," Carline barked, before clearing her throat and snapping, "All right people, shut up and listen up; Ima 'bout to sing, so zip your lips!"
"Sir, just why are you retiring?" Kewel asked Schneizal.
"My house, you see," Schneizal said simply.
"Ah."
"Lady?" Maestro Einstein said, looking back as Carline.
"Maestro," Carline grinned as she cleared her throat one more time before the music began.
Carline's voice wasn't bad, it was quite good really. However, her voice lacked any sort of soul and heart, which made her words sound off, even wrong, to a trained ear.
"Think of me,
Think of me fondly when we're said good-bye,
Remember me,
Once in awhile, please promise me you'll try,
When you find that once again you'll long,
To take your heart back and be free-"
Just then, several of the chorus shouted out in surprise, pointing upwards. Carline glanced up to see the backdrop fall right on top of her, just shy of crushing her.
"Get it off of her, hurry!" the two men practically screamed, urging someone, anyone to get the backdrop off of the young woman.
A few moments later, the backdrop was pulled up, enabling some of the chorus members to help Carline up, all which she slapped away irritably.
"It's his handiwork; the Phantom of the Opera's," Alice whispered to Nunnally, grinning.
"Lady Carline, are you all right?!" Dietard exclaimed as he he looked over the young girl, who also slapped him away.
"Hey, what happened up there?!" Kewel snapped, addressing the stage-hands up above them.
The blue haired worker shook his head as he said, "Sir, there's no one up here, as God as my witness. But if there were, then they'd have to be a ghost."
"Now Carline," Schneizel said gently, "you know these things happen."
Carline twitched before she practically screamed, "For the past two years, yes they have! And just what have you done to stop them, hm?"
At that, he whirled around to glare at Dietard and Kewel, both who were taken back by her fury. "And as for the two of you, you're probably as bad as him!"
She scowled. "'These things tend to happen', indeed! And unless those things don't stop happening, then I'll stop happening!'
With that, she whirled off stage, ranting angrily under her breath. Castor gave the men a hapless shrug before his double followed him out before mimicking the shrug. Schneizel then turned to Dietard and Kewel.
"I wish you both all the luck in the world, gentlemen," he said, "If you need me, I'll be in Australia."
Maestro Einstein's head nearly faulted onto her music stand at that, a groan escaping her lips.
"Miss Neidrick will be coming back, won't she, Maestro?" Dietard asked tentatively.
The young woman only gave a look that said, "What do you think, genius?" Just then, Lady Fenette came up to the two men, holding a cream-colored envelope with a red wax seal.
"Sir Soresei and Sir Reid, I have a letter to you, from the Opera Ghost-" she began.
"God in Heaven, is everyone here obsessed?!" Kewel snapped.
"He welcomes you to his Opera House-"
"'His Opera House'?" Dietard repeated incredulously.
"As well as commanding that you continue to leave Box Zero," at that, she gestured to a box that was higher than the rest, that offered a clear and unobstructed view of the stage, "and also reminds you that his salary is due."
"Salary?!" Dietard and Kewel nearly shouted incredulously, because this, to them, was getting ridiculous.
"Yes; Schneizel averages twenty thousand pounds a month or so."
The men stared at Lady Fenette like she had grown two heads, to which she merely regarded them coolly. "You have Lord Thurtson to act as your patron. This should not be too difficult."
"I had hoped to make such an announcement," Dietard said before his voice rose as he tore up the paper, "but it seems we will have to cancel, since we have lost our lead singer!"
"Isn't there an understudy for Lady Carline?" Kewel asked.
"You don't just get an understudy for the most powerful voice in all of the land," Maestro Einstein deadpanned.
"Unbelievable," Dietard groaned, "We'll have to refund an entire house at this rate-"
"Nunnally Lamperouge could sing it."
The men glanced back at Lady Fenette as she gestured to the brunette, who looked slightly embarrassed.
"You're suggesting a chorus girl replace a prima dona?" Dietard said before chuckling humorlessly.
"She's been taking lessons from a phenomenal teacher," Lady Fenette replied.
"Who is he?" Kewel asked, narrowing his eyes.
"I'm sorry, but I don't know his name," Nunnally admitted.
"Let her sing for you," Lady Fenette said, "What do you have to lose?"
Dietard and Kewel looked at one another before Dietard just sighed and said, "Just- just start from the beginning, will you?"
The music began from the beginning, with Kewel murmuring, "This is doing nothing to help my nerves."
"Well, at least she's a pretty face-" Dietard began before Nunnally opened her mouth.
"Think of me, think of me fondly,
When we've said 'good-bye',
Remember me, once in a while,
Please promise me you'll try."
Both men looked on in amazement, as well as everyone else, but Lady Fenette and Alice, the former who looked pleased and the latter who grinned happily.
"When you find that once again,
You'll take you heart back and be free,
If you ever find a moment,
Spare a thought for me..."
There Nunnally stood on the stage, in a white dress and flowers in her hair as she sang with her heart and being before hundreds of people in the auditorium, all who were spellbound in their chairs.
"We never said our love was evergreen,
Or as unchanging as the sea,
But if you can still remember,
Stop and think of me."
Some of the other actors and stagehands leaned out as far as they could, wanting to soak up her pure voice, or better yet, drown in such beauty invoked by her voice.
Nunnally continued to sing, her face expressing nothing but a solemn joy.
"Think of all the things we've shared and seen,
Don't think about the way things might have been."
Lord Thurtson blinked at that, before he leaned in closer to inspect the young singer who had replaced Carline.
"Think of me, think of me waking, silent and resigned,
Remember me, trying to hard to keep you from my mind,
Recall those days, Look back on all those times,
Think of the things we'll never do,
There will never be a day where I won't think of
You."
Deep below the floors, a single figure smiled as he was overcome by Nunnally's voice before thundering applause followed.
The young lord's eyes widened as he recognized the young woman on the stage.
Could it truly be her?
"Bravo!" he shouted out before he hastily left his box and went down the stairs.
It feels like a lifetime since I saw her last. We were only children back then, he thought, barely noticing Lady Fenette.
She may not remember me, but I remember her.
Nunnally continued to sing on, heedless of the young lord's thoughts and departure.
"Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade,
They have their seasons, so do we,
But please promise me that sometimes,
You'll think of-"
At that, Nunnally sang out lightly, almost like a laugh, drawing out the "of", until she finished with a resounding "ME"!, bringing about cheers and whistles and thundering applause from everyone in the audience, Kewel and Dietard especially.
Nunnally smiled breathlessly, almost taken back by all of the people clamoring her for her performance.
Pollux watched the entire performance from behind the mesh of the scenery before going back out the Opera's back door to where Carline and Castor waited for him in a stagecoach.
"Well?" Carline prompted, smirking maliciously, "How bad was it?"
Pollux sweat-dropped at that as he remembered the performance. "Well..."
About thirty seconds later, the people inside and outside the Opera house were startled by an unearthly screech pf rage and disbelief.
Soft candle light illuminated the tiny room, reflecting off of the glass-stained window, throwing off bits of red, blue, yellow and various other colors. Nunnally sat by the small step just before the window, before a voice echoed in the room.
"Brava, brava, bravissima," it murmured, low and musical.
Nunnally smiled as she looked up at the angel that the window depicted before she heard a soft patter of feet rounding the corner. Alice looked at her, smiling broadly.
"Here you are," she said, sitting by her side and hugging her, "You were incredible tonight, nothing less than perfect! How do you do it? Just who's the genius that helped you sing like this?"
Nunnally smiled at that. "When your mother brought me here to live, whenever I was alone, when I lit candles for my mother, father and brother, and when I was on the cusp of sleep, he would appear and be by my side."
Alice blinked. "Huh?" she said, before a horrified expression crossed her face. "You have a stalker?!"
Nunnally stared incredulously. "No," she stated before she continued, a soft smile on her face.
"When my brother was dying, he said that he would ask personally to send me an angel to act as my protector in his stead: an Angel of Music."
"So, you think that your teacher is the angel that your brother wanted you to have?" Alice asked.
"I can't imagine who else he would be," Nunnally said before looking back at the angel.
Alice looked weary at that. She could certainly imagine who else they'd be but said nothing.
"Brother spoke of him when he played the piano, I still remember how I would dream of him appearing. And now, here in the Opera house, I know that he's here, to act as my guide. He, the unseen genius.
Alice shook her head, smiling disarmingly. "Come on, that can't possibly be true."
Nunnally shook her head. "Even now, he's all around us..."
Alice blinked before she noticed that Nunnally had changed. Even as she was smiling, her face was turning paler and her hands shook.
"It's almost scary..." Nunnally whispered, the smile still there.
Alice took her hands in her own. "It's okay, Nunna. Don't be scared."
The two girls walked back to where there was more light, leaving behind the window and candles before Nunnally went to her room, where Madame Fenette was waiting for her. She held a single white rose, with a black ribbon tied in a bow around it.
"He is very pleased with you," she said simply.
Alice said nothing as she watched this before she turned away, a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.
The spectators crowded in the halls, talking animatedly about h opera that just happened, especially about the young star whose pure voice had captivated them. Some were disappointed that the more prominent Carline had not shown up but they would not say that they had not liked the Opera, if not loved it.
Lord Thurtson walked through them, wanting to find Nunnally's dressing room, only to be stopped by Dietard and Kewell, who were both holding quite extravagant bouquets of flowers.
"Well my lord, I think it's safe to say we've come across an extraordinary find in Ms. Lamperouge, wouldn't you agree?" the blond man said, smiling.
"Perhaps we could present her to you for a private show, my lord?" Kewel suggested.
"While your offer is flattering, gentlemen," Lord Thurston said, "I'd prefer to make this visit unaccompanied. Oh, thank you for the flowers by the way."
With that, Lord Thurston took the two bouquets and quickly made his way over to the dressing room. Kewel and Dietard blinked almost stupidly for a few seconds.
"Apparently it seems they know one another," Dietard stated.
"It would appear so," Kewel echoed.
Nunnally brushed her hair slowly, focusing on each strand so she could get out any tangles or knots properly. As she set the brush down to wash off some of her makeup, she heard the door creak and soft voice.
"'Little Lottie let her mind wander,'" he said, "'Little Lottie thought, Am I fonder of dolls, or of Ghouls, or of shoes?'"
Nunnally turned to see her childhood friend behind her, holding two bouquets. "Rai," she smiled.
"'Or of riddles and frocks?'" Rai continued, mischievously.
"You still remember that silly poem?" Nunnally said, almost laughing, "Do you remember the picnics in the attic?"
"'Or of chocolates?'" The silver-haired male finished, sitting by her side.
"Do you remember when Brother played the piano?"
"As we read stories of Vikings, Amazons, and Kappas."
"'But what I love best,' Lottie said, 'is when I'm on the brink of sleep and the Angel of Music sings me to sleep, his voice still there in my dreams,'" Nunnally finished, before the two childhood friends embraced one another.
"You were an Angel tonight, Nunnally," Rai murmured against her hair.
"Brother said he's send me an Angel of Music when I die," Nunnally said as they withdrew, "And he's been dead for years now, and I have been visited by him, Rai."
The silver-haired man nodded, smiling slightly. "Of course he has- and now, we'll have a nice, hot supper!"
"Rai, he's very strict-" Nunnally began.
"Then I shan't keep you late."
"Wait, Rai-"
"You should change into something warmer, and I'll have Jeremiah bring the stagecoach around," Rai told her before going up to the door and exiting before he called back, "Try to be ready in like two minutes!"
"Rai!" Nunnally cried after him, but he had already left.
She groaned at that before slumping in her chair. Honestly, Rai could be so impulsive sometimes.
Rai walked back to his stagecoach, where Jeremiah waited for him. The air was becoming very cold out, and the audience members and actors were heading home.
"you look like you're in a good mood, Milord," Jeremiah remarked, "Did something good happen?"
Rai nodded. "I saw Nunnally tonight."
Jeremiah's eyes widened before a smile broke on his face. "How is she?"
"She's doing great," Rai answered as he put on his coat,"and we'll be treating her to dinner tonight."
At that, his expression became pensive. "I was kind of surprised to see her still going on about the Angel of Music, though. I thought she would have grown out of it by now."
Jeremiah shrugged. "Perhaps she uses it to cope with Lord Lamperouge's death?"
Rai frowned. "I hope not, but I think you're right."
He remembered back then, when he first heard of it.
Lelouch Lamperouge's fingers glided gracefully over the surface of the piano, beautiful music gently murmuring in the room. A young man with brown hair and green eyes was busy cleaning some of the surfaces while five-year old Nunnally and eight year-old Rai were fixated on some books.
"Hey Suzaku!" Nunnally called to the servant, since her brother couldn't answer at the moment, lest the music stop, "What's this mean?"
Suzaku looked down at the book where Nunnally was pointing. "That's Danish for 'warrior'," he replied.
"'Warrior'? They don't look so tough!" Rai scoffed before snorting and standing up, looking prideful, "I could beat those jerks in seconds! See? I would kick 'em-"
Rai kicked up.
"-then I'd punch 'em-"
He punched right.
"-and I would save Nunna way faster than those guys ever could!"
"That doesn't make any sense," Nunnally giggled.
Rai's cheeks turned red before he snapped, "You know what I mean!"
Suzaku chuckled at that, smiling softly at the scene.
"Besides, I already have someone watching over me," Nunnally boasted, "Lulu calls him the Angel of Music."
"Whaaaat? That's lame; how can a ghost that likes music protect someone?" Rai said, plopping down, crossing his arms.
At that, the music stopped rather abruptly. Rai looked up as Lelouch frowned at him sternly.
"Angels are the most powerful beings there can be, just shy of God, who exist solely to protect," he stated, "Why do you think it's such a big deal that we all have a guardian Angel watching over each of us?"
He looked at Nunnally, smiling. "As for music, it's easily one of the most powerful forces in the world. It can inspire, make your heart race, your blood boil and prompt others to action much better than any written speech."
Nunnally nodded before smirking at Rai. "See?"
Rai rolled his eyes but looked down in shame. "Whatever..."
"Still," Rai said, a smile back in place, "I can get something to eat. She definitely deserves it after that performance."
He checked his pocket watch. "I'd better go check on her."
Rai turned to Jeremiah. "Wait here."
Jeremiah nodded. "Yes, Milord."
Nunnally sighed. She knew that Rai would be coming any minute now, but she really didn't want to leave.
Not just because the Angel of Music would be sad, but she was more sleepy and tired than hungry and only wanted to go to bed as soon as possible, since the time was going on to midnight.
As she put on her robe over her white nightgown, the candles in her room suddenly went out, leaving her in semi-darkness. Then, a voice pierced the silence, loud, strong and angry.
"Insolent boy;
This slave of fashion,
Basking in your glory!"
Nunnally's eyes widened as she realized who this was.
"Impudent fool;
This brave young suitor,
Sharing in my triumph!"
Nunnally looked up and around, saying softly, "I know you're nearby. You've been my guide and protector all of these years. I'm sorry for Rai, he's always like that... Please, won't you show yourself to me at last, Master?"
The Angel of Music replied a moment later, sounding both enduring and amused.
"Flattering child, you shall know me,
See why in shadows I hide,
Look at your face in the mirror,
I am there inside!"
Nunnally turned to the mirror in her room, her reflection staring back, only for it to slowly but surely be replaced with someone else. The lights were still dim, but she could see that the figure was wearing black dress cloak, pants and shirt, with violet trimming on said cape and on the hem of the pants and the end of the sleeves, a white cravat, and a black mask with dark blue glass that showed nothing but the reflection of her own face.
"I am your Angel of Music..."
"come to me, Angel of Music..."
Rai came to the door and tried to open it, only to find it was locked.
"...ic..."
Rai froze at the obviously male voice in the room. "Who's voice is that?" he whispered softly to himself, "Who's in there?"
"Come to me, Angel of Music..."
That's when the implications hit him.
"Nunnally!" he shouted loudly, pounding on the door frantically, "Please, let me in! NUNNALLY!"
Nunnally walked forward to the Angel before her as he held out a black-gloved hand and she took it. The glass of the mirror was gone and the Angel led her down a torch lit passageway, holding her hand almost reverently.
Nunnally remained silent as they continued deeper and deeper underground, the passageways sloping and twisting like snakes and other limbless beings until they came do a path of water, where there was a boat. The Angel helped Nunnally into it before he boarded the boat and pushed off with the pole inside the boat.
Nunnally stared in wonder at the tiles of glass in the passageway walls and ceiling, reflecting the water and making it shimmer above them, as if the water were above and around them as well. She saw how the glass reflected off of the Phantom's mask, especially off of the blue glass.
He wears such a mask because it reflects whoever sees it, she realized, People see me, but it's him they truly hear in the end.
Then, she saw a barred gate ahead, before it rose, revealing a platform and dais of stone. Candlelight shone bright as day, carpets draped over the floors, and lavish furniture was seen as well. Pianos, cellos and other instruments of every sort littered about harmoniously.
The Angel brought the boat up and tied it off before helping Nunnally out and landing himself. A soft shiver came over Nunnally from the water and stone and her hands went to her arms in an attempt to warm herself, only for the Angel to gently drape his cloak over her shoulders. The material was thick and lush and Nunnally sighed with slight relief from the warmth it gave.
"This place, it's beautiful," Nunnally said as she looked around.
The Angel extended his head in a nod of thanks before he walked in front of her.
"I have brought you,
To the seat of sweet music's throne,
To the kingdom where all must pay homage to music,
Music..."
Nunnally looked back at him as he extended his hand to her, gesturing her to the place before her.
"You have come here
For one purpose and one alone,
Since the moment I first heard you sing,
I have needed you with me,
To serve me,
To sing for my music,
My music..."
Nunnally stared. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. The Angel needed her? Yet, she had been the one who as relying on him for all of these years, yet he was saying he depended on the singing he helped her hone.
A moment later, the Angel began to sing again, his voice low and velvet.
"Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation,
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination,
Silently the senses abandon their defences..."
At this, the Angel extended his hand to Nunnally and she took it. He then lead her up through the place.
"Slowly, gently, night unfurls it's splendor,
Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender,
Turn your face away from the garish light of day,
Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light...
And listen to the music of the night."
The Angel led Nunnally up a few stairs, his grip so reverent.
"Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams
Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before!
Close your eyes, and let you spirit start to so-o-o-a-a-r-r...
And you'll live... as you've never lived... before."
Nunnally felt herself start to become more enraptured by the Angel before he led her to a flat part of the stone and wrapped her arm around her waist, and took her right hand in his own. Nunnally's other hand went to his shoulder and her fingers entwined with his fingers as he began to dance.
"Softly, deftly, music shall caress you,
Hear it, feel it, secretly possess it,
Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind,
In this darkness you know you cannot fight,
The darkness of the music of the night."
With that, he twirled their bodies around the floor, swinging Nunnally about hypnotically.
"Let you mind start a journey to a strange new world,
Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before,
Let your soul take you where you long to be-e-e-e!"
At that, he stopped suddenly, as he looked down at Nunnally, her face reflecting back at her through the blue glass.
"Only then... can you belong... to me."
His hand came from her waist and took a strand of her hair, his fingers stroking it. His other hand gently stroked her cheek, his thumb ghosting over her lps. Nunnally's eye becoming half-lidded at his touches, her face slightly pink.
"Floating, falling, sweet intoxication,"
He let go of her hair to take her hand and gently press it against the bare skin of his neck, just between the cravat and mask, allowing her to feel the warm skin and strands of hair beneath the mask.
"Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation,"
At that, he spread his arms out to her.
"Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in,
To the power of the music that I write:
The power of the music of the night!"
Nunnally began to sway at that, and the Angel scooped her up in his arms, her legs and bare feet hanging over his arm and her torso cradled to him. He took her to a soft, cushioned bed with white sheets and a canopy. He pushed aside the drapes before he pushed the covers open and set Nunnally down on the bed before he set the covers over her.
She looked back up at him, her eyes struggling to stay open, but the night had finally caught up with her and it was all she could do to keep them open. As she began to drift away, she felt a warm hand gently cup her face.
"You alone can make my song take flight..."
She heard a short clasp and a thunk, before soft lips touched her forehead and withdrew a moment later.
"Help me make the music of the ni-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-ght..."
Giggles and squeals of laughter and surprise echoed in the backroom, where the blue-haired stage-man was telling ghost stories. This one, happened to be about the Opera Ghost. Alice wasn't participating, her mind still on Nunnally and her "Angel of Music".
"His skin is yellower than parchment," the blue haired stage-hand grinned, as he held aloft a noose, "and all that's left of his face is a black hole! And you've got to be careful-"
At that, he playfully fitted his noose around Alice's neck, startling her, who squeaked with laughter. "Or else, his magic lasso'll getcha!"
At that, Lady Fenette walked in, her face that of ice, immediately stopping any jovial behavior as she walked up to the blue haired man as she took the noose of from around Alice's neck.
"Those who speak of what they know," Lady Fenette said as she fingered the rope, "find out too late that prudent silence is the wisest course of action."
She turned to the blue-haired man. "Mr. Cardemonde, hold you tongue-"
At that, she slapped his face before grabbing him by the collar and showing him the noose and hissed, "Keep your hand at the level of your eyes!"
A soft trilling was what Nunnally heard first.
She felt so warm, so soft, she just wanted to melt back into sleep. But the song kept her from sleep, making her wake up. A few minutes passed before she put aside the covers and sat up, her feet brushing against the cold stone.
That's when she noticed the cloak still on her shoulders and the night came rushing back to her. The mist, the water, the passageway, the candles, the boat, the man-
Nunnally's face burned as she remembered the dance before. Her fingers touched her lips, remembering how his finger had ghosted over the flesh.
She got up, still clutching the cloak in place as she walked along, hoping not to disturb anything. The candles were still lit, illuminating the cavern. Nunnally's feet plodded against the stone, before her eyes settled on the Angel's form. He was sitting at the piano, sitting with his back pressed against the back, as if asleep.
She slowly walked up to the Angel before she looked down at his masked face. Nunnally wondered why he wore it; was it because of the symbolism that it represented? Or was he just shy? For that matter, was it even possible for Angels to feel/be shy?
Her hands gently traced the material of the mask, cool and sturdy beneath her fingers, before the digits hooked underneath it and she slowly lifted it off to reveal the face beneath.
A sharp gasp came from her mouth before she dropped the mask in startled surprise before she stepped backwards as he shot up and fell backwards from surprise.
"N-no, wait," he whispered, reaching out to her, "Please, don't-"
Nunnally just stared, her eyes wide. The man before her gave a groan of despair before he clutched at his hair.
"Is this really what you wanted to see?" he asked softly, "Did you ever even dare to dream that this is what lies beneath?"
The girl said nothing but rose, took the mask and gently set it back on the man's face. His head tilted up as he met her gaze.
"I promise," he vowed lowly, "you'll learn to see past this, and see who I am inside..."
Nunnally looked back at him, her expression conflicted. The man sighed before he rose and held his hand to her.
"Come; we must return," he said gently, "those fools who seem to think that they run my Opera House will be missing you."
What do you think? Code Geass with a Phantom of the Opera setting! I don't own either of these though.
Please review!