A/N For those of you who might have been going crazy wondering what Arabella's primary language is… I've decided to make it Spanish. I finally remembered there's a language translation site out there, so more French and Spanish on the way! Yay! However, being legally blind now and having trouble figuring out how to put in the proper symbols using my word processor… not so easy… so please forgive any lack of correct accenting (and I'm aware I keep switching back to English. I only use the other languages to stress the language barrier or particularly important phrases).

It took very little time to realize that Erik was some sort of genius. When she returned to him the evening after he first sang to her, he greeted her very quietly in Romani, startling her with the skill in which he'd picked up on not only the words, but the appropriate accent in which to say them.

"Sar san, Mademoiselle Arabella." He murmured, his eyes lighting up with pleasure at her arrival. The words froze Arabella where she knelt at the foot of his cage, preparing to raise herself completely out from under the canvas of the tent.

"I'm well… Erik. Thank you." she replied slowly, rising finally to her feet and trustingly placing her face closer to the bars than she had in some time. One hand fished into a satchel at her hip, and pulled out an apple. "Akai, xa."

"Merci…" he said with a grateful nod, before biting into the apple with relish. Arabella smiled brightly at is acceptance, although he could only have guessed at the meaning at her words. Could he already understand that she'd told him 'Here' and 'Eat'? Whatever the case, he wasn't even remotely hesitant about being in her company now.

Erik felt devilish, having Arabella there again after her night of stories. During the course of the day, the miniature woman Gloria had made a brief appearance. He didn't know why she'd been in his portion of the tent, but he'd taken the opportunity to demand a few translations out of her. She'd scowled at him for it, but given the information he requested once she realized how well he'd memorize it. From that information, he'd been able to surprise his little friend, and was ready to teach her a few lessons in language if she could catch on to French at all.

"This apple is good." He told her, putting heavy stress onto the words 'apple' and good as he held it out to indicate her gift of food. "Do you have more stories for me tonight?"

Her brow furrowed in confusion, and he felt the smile slip a little from his face. After a few more bites of his apple, and dropped it into his lap and placed his hands together in the form of a book while pretending to read it. He saw the light dawn in her eyes, and she gasped out a response he wasn't entirely certain of yet. Still, it seemed to be she understood.

She launched into another narrative, although it seemed this time she only had a singular, shorter story to tell. Erik listened intently, comparing words he still recognized from the day before, and ones he'd heard the other gypsies use throughout the course of the day. While she talked, Erik slowly finished his apple, enjoying how the sweet juices slipped down his throat and chin, not caring that he was slightly more sticky and sullied by the end. Once it was clear she was finished, and watched him expectantly, he nodded again.

He wasn't sure what she was waiting for, but he knew that his singing the night before had entranced her. Maybe she wanted to hear his voice again… But he had so many skills! It wouldn't be that difficult to entertain her in other ways.

Holding up his apple core, he indicated that she should watch it. It wasn't long before it vanished almost directly before her eyes, and she was – in a tongue he couldn't comprehend but with a tone and body language that spoke volumes – demanding he show every part of his personage and cage to prove it had really vanished. Considering his skills at sleight of hand, it wasn't hard to convince her that the apple could be anywhere else, other than tucked away in his ragged clothes.

It was gladdening to see her almost childish delight, watching and listening to her exclamations and eager applause. For a few precious moments, there was more than darkness and despair in his little cage. It was almost as though, through her, there was light…

"That's it…" he admitted, knowing she couldn't understand but shrugging none-the-less to emphasize the point. "It's all I can do under these conditions."

A moment of silence passed while she continued to stare at him, her awe fading away and leaving in its' wake a very simple but sincere respect.

He couldn't help himself. With another little grin, he began to whisper a song to her… and let his voice carry itself straight from his lips directly to her ear without letting it cross the expanse in between. Again, he felt pleased and exalted by her adulation. It made him really want to impress her… to really show her what his voice was capable of… and put her under the spell he knew he could cast if he just put a little effort behind his voice. Performing for her was nothing like being exhibited for the disgusting crowds for the profit of his captors.

His voice rose and slowly left her ear, travelling like a butterfly or feather about her head so that her eyes sought out the source. He'd never seen eyes go quite so round with amazement, and he leaned forward to press his face hard between the bars. Her gaze was going almost glassy as she began to sway slightly from side to side to the rhythm of his music.

To his surprise and delight, she slowly rose to her feet and at first did nothing more than pat one hand against a thigh to the rhythm of his music. The swaying of her body became more like the motion of a slithering snake. Erik smiled, increasing the tempo of his melody, altering keys to make the tune more primal… and watched as she faultlessly followed his musical cue with her body. Both her hands rose over her head, and she began to clap at an irregular but perfectly placed beat, feet rising for the first time as she began to dance.

Erik knew about dancing. His mothers' friend had even humored him once or twice and taught him a few basics about the art form, although she could hardly be considered graceful. Still… he'd never really, completely, understood it. The dancing he'd seen his mother and her friend perform – two women together dancing as though they were really supposed to be one man and one woman – had seemed very severe, formal and stiff. It had been nothing like what he watched Arabella do. It was something almost instantaneously savage and alluring that seemed to meld his gaze to her moving form in the darkness of the tent. It made him wonder just how she would appear in the light of day… full sunshine pouring down over her…

But he was already well aware that sometimes the darkness was far better…

Arabella had lost herself in his music, and in the steps of her dancing. There was a reason she danced to earn her living, and her passion for it had not been lost over time in spite of how dirty the people who watched sometimes made her feel. Through the darkness, she could feel Erik's eyes following her. In spite of the sharpness of his gaze, his stare was far less unsettling that the stares of others. It held an intensity muted only by the strength of his music as it grew in tempo and volume, warning her distantly that they were leaving the realm of secrecy with such volume. There were low murmurings at the front of the tent where Gloria and the other so-called Freaks slept. No doubt some of the voices were protesting being wakened by the noise, but she was well aware how most of them actually voiced her own slow amazement.

She should stop dancing, or at the very least tell him to lower his voice… but she couldn't. It was almost like he held her in thrall, as though she were trapped in the spell of a fairy that had condemned her to dance through eternity without ever being able to rest or even be aware of the passage of time. Again, it pushed the harsher parts of reality out of her mind to a safe distance, and she wouldn't have minded being trapped by the simple sound of Erik's voice.

From the corner of her eye she caught movement, and realized very quickly that Gloria herself stood between the front and back sections of the tent. Others were standing behind her, moving sluggishly out of tiredness or confusion. Even then, completely aware that Erik's secret had been discovered by others, she didn't want him to stop. She never wanted to stop dancing in the safety of the darkness where his interest in the movement of her body came more from his own imagination rather than what was revealed in the brilliant light of day.

Erik, however, seemed to have other plans. He stopped singing so abruptly that it startled her, snapping the spell she'd been dancing in as though he'd just doused her with freezing cold glacier water. She let out a sharp gasp and nearly tripped over her own feet, half-stumbling to a stop in the dead center of the small tent room and turning to glare at Gloria and the other intruders.

"What?" she demanded. "Can't you mind your own business? Go back to bed!"

There was a moment of silence, and then a great deal of grumbling and bodies shifting as the tent flap that separated the front room from the back fell shut again. It left her and Erik alone once more, and she slowly turned to face him, panting slightly for breath and impatiently swiping at the sweat that had formed on her brow and arms.

He was nearly standing in his cage, having shrunk slightly from the bars once they'd been interrupted but without curling up into the frightened ball she had grown so familiar with in such a short amount of time. He was staring at her intently, making her almost squirm with a finally formed but vague discomfort. She felt embarrassment at the freedom she'd felt while dancing, wondering what in God's name above could have possibly gotten into her. Although not particularly seductive, she'd never danced in such a way before… even for a crowd that would have paid her more handsomely for it. It was ridiculous to get so carried away because of a voice – no matter how beautiful it was.

After several long moments of silence had passed, Erik slowly settled down to the floor of his cage again, relaxing into a casual position and smiling at her faintly. She managed to smile faintly in return, stepping closer to his cage.

She didn't know why she'd danced, exactly… but she knew one thing. She didn't consider it to be a gift for him. Too many people had seen her dance throughout her life, even if none had seen her be so unselfconscious about it. It wasn't the same kind of special as the music he'd given to her, as the secret of his voice that now unfortunately seemed to belong to others as well.

The thought made her glance sharply over her shoulder in sudden alarm, and she turned back to rush up to the bars of his cage. Erik, sensing her abrupt but vague distress, leaned against the bars once more to look at her with curiosity.

"Qu'est-ce que c'est?" he asked, his tone translating into worry without the need to understand his actual words. He wanted to know what was wrong.

Arabella waved her hands in front of them as she searched for words he might understand, but none came. She knew so little French, and it was aggravating!

"Your singing…" she offered weakly. "They heard you singing…"

Erik's brow knit in confusion and Arabella cleared her throat anxiously, tapping at her throat and humming a little. Although not entirely untalented, her soft alto voice sounded horrendous in comparison to his clearly well-trained one. Then, she pointed to him.

"Your… musica…" she managed finally.

His eyes brightened in instant recognition.

"Tu veux dire ma musique? Mon chant?"

"Yes!" she agreed immediately. "Musica! Exactly! It's your music…"

Erik tilted his head at her, clearly trying to follow her train of thought while only picking up on a few words or phrases.

"They know now." She explained quickly. "I don't trust all of them to keep it a secret… It isn't something you can hide anymore…"

She felt as though she tried for a long time to explain her concern to Erik. It had nothing to do with her disappointment that now his secret wasn't hers alone. She was actually more distressed at the thought of Sven using him for his talent. It had clearly been difficult enough for them to make Erik cooperate just keeping his head up and revealing his face to the curious crowds that flowed in each day. How much worse would things get if he refused to sing if they wanted him to?
Eventually he seemed to at least somewhat understand her concern, although he probably thought it was coming from the wrong place. He leaned back in his cage, his gaze relaxed but calculating.

"Erik…" she whispered.

He glanced up at her and gave a devilish smile.

"Bonne nuit, ma belle."

This time, the translation of his nickname was not lost on Erik.

Arabella gaped at him for a long time, although he didn't seem even remotely ashamed or embarrassed for his form of address. In fact… he looked rather… smug.

After a moment, she scoffed.

"You devil!" she exclaimed with a laugh. He had done exactly what he'd meant to do… snapping her out of her growing concern and thoroughly distracting her.

Erik grinned more broadly, and simply nodded, waving her off.

She still felt reluctant about walking away when he might now be facing new dangers, but what else could she do? He was making it clear that he didn't see any need for her concern – or at least any use for it. There was something happening in that head of his – she had virtually seen the thoughts chasing each other around in his mind. All she could do was slink home and pray to heaven that her father was already unconscious.

It turned out that God really did answer some prayers on occasion.

Erik sat up in his cage for quite some time after his friend left. She didn't realize how much of what she'd understood. She also had no idea of how his mind worked… how manipulative and scheming his brain. She thought she'd just discovered a brand new problem… but he'd been expecting them to discover and try to exploit his music eventually. It was far too much a part of him to keep as a secret for an indefinite period of time. Without some music, he might as well not exist.

Tonight, with the other Freaks having heard him, he had to admit that it was happening sooner than anticipated… But he would be able to work it to his advantage if they told his captors what they'd heard. No one could force him to sing… even if they could cage him or beat him to death in the attempt. It would, ultimately, be his decision to sing. The question was… how far would they go to coax him into it?

It hadn't taken long at all for the other Freaks in Sven's red tent to open their mouth and sing like canaries about what they'd heard the previous night. The only thing they seemed to leave out was the fact that Arabella had been there and brought the voice of their devil-faced companion to light. In very little time at all, there was excitement coursing through the camp at the concept of being able to draw more crowds and income than ever before. They all thought that one performer's abilities would suddenly be more than enough to bring the camp as a whole more fortune than they might have ever dreamed of.

There was also a great deal of trepidation. Once Sven, Vlad, and Adnah heard about their captive's abilities, they weren't long in trying to figure out how they would force his gift out of him. In keeping with their agreement, Arabella had a long conversation before the day really started, and he'd expressed his unwillingness to let the clever little mulla out of his cage. In the long run, though, the three men had all seen how simple it would be to give Erik a few simple comforts… during the day at least. They'd be damned if they simply left him unlocked and guarded twenty four hours a day.

None of them seemed to understand what Arabella did – even without a translator. All Erik needed was out of that cage, and a little safety. He had nowhere else to go, or he never would have been near enough to be captured by a gypsy in the first place. What was the point in keeping him caged constantly other than to unnerve the more sensitive people who paid to see such a curiosity?

She wasn't even remotely surprised when Adnah said that Erik had made one demand in particular, which no one had agreed to under the current circumstances.

He'd demanded a mask to wear when he wasn't being seen.

"How did you understand all that?" she asked Adnah curiously. "He can't speak our language."

"We speak a little French." Adnah shrugged, sipping at a tin mug of hot coffee. "Gloria translates what we can't understand back and forth. That little shit…" He laughed bitterly, shaking his head.

"What?" Arabella let herself smile in amusement, although it wasn't for the reasons Adnah might have thought.

"He thinks he's some kind of Dark Prince." Adnah explained. "Delusional mulla thinks he's the son of Hades!"

Arabella raised an eyebrow of mild surprise. She every much doubted Erik had ever said any such thing… but it certainly gave him a certain amount of further mystique… But it was also interesting Adnah's flippant reaction to it. Commonly, gypsies were considerably more superstitious. Maybe it was just holding this allegedly self-proclaimed son of Hades in a cage that kept everyone from fearing actual reprisals from some Mamioro. (a spirit that could bring serious illness. What else could the ruler of the underworld be described as?)

"So…" Adnah put his coffee aside and turned to her. "Everyone's starting the day soon. Do you want to come and hear it chirp little a bird?"
She rolled her eyes, sipping at her own coffee.

"Do you know what my father would do to me if I wasn't dancing to welcome the crowds?" she demanded. "Thank you… but I don't need to stand and gawk at him like the rest of you seem to."

Adnah shrugged again and turned to walk away, but Arabella called quietly and had him glancing back at her.

"What is it?" he asked; a touch impatiently now that he was ready to start work for the day.

"You should consider the mask he's asked for." She told him. "It's amazing how much more agreeable people can be when you just give them a little dignity."

He stared at her a long moment longer, making her want to squirm. But she held herself still before finally shrugging without letting on her discomfort.

"You and I are getting along better." She pointed out. "When you gave him food and a little space, he behaved better. It's simple dignity."

Adnah sighed, shaking his head with a strange little smirk on his face.

"You and I made a deal." He pointed out. "That's not the same thing as getting along naturally."

"Yes…" she agreed slowly. "But I just might be nice to you out of sheer habit by the time our month is done. When you are more relaxed and not trying to insinuate so much just by saying good morning to me, it's more comfortable. I feel more inclined to be nice."

"I like insinuating things." Adnah protested with a phony whine. "Don't you ever just like flirting, Bella?"

"No." she stated coolly. "I really don't."
He jerked slightly in surprise. It was clear he'd expected at least a little thought on the subject.

"So… you're saying… not showing you that I'm actually interested is the right thing to do…"

"When it comes to me, yes."

"Then how would you know?"

"I have no idea. It's never happened before. But I'm sure I'd be smart enough to figure it out eventually." She waved a dismissive hand. "It doesn't matter. I'm never getting married."

He began walking towards her, making Arabella start feeling more uncomfortable and annoyed.

"Why not?" he asked sincerely.

"I'm a half-breed with a gaje father." She reminded him. "Who would offer him a bride price for me?"

He thought about this seriously for a long moment.

"You could always run away with the boy who caught your fancy." He pointed out. "It's a harder road when you return, but it's been done… you're eventually accepted as a married couple."

Arabella shook her head slowly.

"I'm not the marrying type anyways. That's the sad truth of it, Adnah. I don't intend to ever marry. Honestly? …It's just too much work."

As he walked thoughtfully away, she scoffed at herself. She hadn't been being even remotely honest with him. Oh, she'd given him all true reasons… but she was not worried about hard work. It was the very thought of being tied to someone that was troubling to her. She had no intention of ever being under someone else's thumb. Someday, she might gain the courage to run away to another gypsy camp and escape her father… and then maybe she could be accepted as a free single woman… but that was a long way into the future, when her grandmother had departed from the Earth.

Sar san: How are you?

Akai: Come

Xa: Eat

Qu'est-ce que c'est: What is it?

Tu veux dire ma musique? Mon chant?: You mean my music? My song?