Prelude:
"In sleep he sang to me. In dreams he came.
That voice which calls to me and speaks my name.
And do I dream again? For now I find:
The Phantom Of The Opera is there… inside my mind."
- from The Phantom Of The Opera by Andrew Lloyd Webber
...
The ballroom was just as it had been then. Lavish cushions and pillows littered the floor, where people sprawled. Waiters with skin like paper passed around trays of delicious and exotic food, and the chandeliers dripped wax. They had dripped for so many years, the wax had formed stalactites. The dancers were dressed even more splendidly, their masks as gruesome as their gowns were grand.
Sarah wandered shyly among them. She knew they were watching her, the women whispering behind their fans and the men ogling when her back was turned. She felt exposed, on display for their criticism and condemnation. Tears sprang to her eyes and she wished she could run away and hide. Somewhere they'd never find her.
Then the woman beside her stepped away and she found herself facing their host. He was resplendent in a deep blue velvet, the colour of midnight. Pale ruffles erupted at his throat, and at his sleeves, and just as Sarah stared at him, he looked right back at her. Then they were dancing, so suddenly, Sarah didn't even remember agreeing to it. He swept her between the other guests, holding her hand in a firm grip and her waist even more so. When another couple came too close and brushed against them he pulled her closer, keeping her against his body.
Sarah longed for his touch. She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and press her face into his shirt. To hear his heart beat and feel his arms holding her. She ached for him.
And then, somewhere far off, a clock began to strike. No! Sarah cried. Not now! Please! I need more time! She looked to the King and he smirked, as though he could hear her thoughts. She snarled at him, even as her heart cried out for him. Wrenching herself away, she pushed through the other dancers, who had formed a ring around her, trapping her in. She fought their clinging hands and pincer-like fingers. As she pulled one insistent man from her arm she happened to glance back to the Goblin King. His expression was lost, as though he wasn't sure what was happening. He hadn't realised she would leave. He'd been so sure she'd choose him and he looked wounded by the choice.
Was it the right choice? she thought. Should I have run?
His mouth opened and he screamed something before the crowd swallowed him. My name! Sarah thought. He's screaming my name! And she hurtled headlong into the side of the bubble, the glass sphere shattering to pieces. The fragments cut at her face, her hands, her neck. Every bit of her that was exposed. She fell through the dark night, hearing the screams of the people's dreams she'd broken and yet unable to see anything but blackness.
"I have been generous, up until now. But I can be cruel".
She winced from the harshness in his voice.
"Everything you wanted I have done!"
I know, she admitted quietly, and I understand that now.
"I ask for so little… just let me rule you and you can have everything that you want".
And even as she fell in that interminable darkness, Sarah felt a wave of conviction wash over her. No! I will not be anyone's slave, not matter how many trinkets you offer! Dreams must be achieved, otherwise what's the point? You work for them! Fight for them! You'll shed plenty of tears before you get them. If they're simply handed to you… you haven't achieved anything… No matter what you've done to help me, you cannot give me that… And I would never ask for it.
Sarah sat bolt upright in her bed. She was drenched in sweat and her breath was coming in short gasps. She buried her face in her hands, desperate to clear the dream from her mind. It had been three years since that night and in that time, she'd managed to push all thoughts of it from her head. Yet now, randomly, it came back to her? She moaned softly and fell back against her pillows.
It was the last thing she wanted to think about.
At least, he certainly was.