Heya guys! Before I start I just want to give a shoutout to vonny25 and Tie-Dyed-Broadway for posting reviews in the last chapter! Thanks to ElvisRules41 and AcrobaticBtfly who have reviewed previous ones (as well as all the guest ones too). You have inspired me are urged me to keep writing, so you deserve some love! Please keep it up and thanks for supporting me,
As ever,
Happy reading
Erik POV
She was asleep, finally. Erik turned and put the bowl of bloodied water to the side. He glared at Luna's red and bandaged foot. It was a crude job, the cut needed stitches but he didn't have the supplies. He remembered Luna trying to stand and crumbling like a doll onto the smooth white stone outside the opera house, her foot leaving a dark stain in the moonlight. Erik had had to carry her thin shaking frame through the cobweb of passages to his cambers; there he attended to her wounds. Through it all Luna had remained wordless and shaking, her cold hands twisting the sheets of his bed and her pale lips in a grimace. But now she looked as peaceful as a saint, and relief flooded through him. And Erik was reminded how young she truly was, he had often thought of her as a women, eighteen or even nineteen. The way she carried herself and spoke with the weary words of someone who had experienced so much. She was wise beyond her years, to put it simply, but he knew that that wisdoms had been gained in a world of blood and tears.
Erik's fists tightened. To put into words the fierce sense of protection Erik felt for her would be near impossible, his thoughts were clear for the first time in months. He would not let her be hurt anymore. That was certain as the sun. She had stolen what was left of his heart. The whole that Christine had left seem to have started to heal, through teaching her she had taught him. He could not let the circus get their filthy hand on her again, the fear in her eyes had mirrored his own. They both know the horrors that world contained. And he would do everything in his power to make damned ell she would never see them again. But how? He could exactly march up to their camp and burn it down. No, he gritted his teeth, that was something the Paris him would do. He could still see the dazed faces of Buquet and Piangi as he strangled the life out of them, the fear and confusion of their wide eyes. At the time it gave him a godly sense of control, but now it just made his stomach turn. He was a even more of a monster then, disgusting as his face. But it was that kiss that redeemed him, he closed his eyes and remembered. That was the first kiss he had ever had, not even his mother had denied to give him one. She never touched him, unless a slap counts as a touch. His life up until that point had been disgust and pity, even Nadir hated him until Erik had ended up saving his life... But that is a story for another day. The fact was that Christine had showed him another side of life. The simple gesture of that gentle kiss had saved him, made him see that his fellow humans were not all hateful and worthless. That someone else could care for him, that people could be pure and beautiful. And then he knew how disgusting he truly was inside he was worse than his face, he saw how much pain and suffering he had caused through his jealousy and rage. He thought that maybe, just maybe, he could redeem himself through Luna. He knew that he would never be a saint, but I could avoid being a sinner. He would try to face for his crimes, by stopping another angel from falling.
Luna deserved that much. She brought another world of new and glorious music into his world. Made him feel alive again. In the fifteen years since Paris he had been a shell of his former self, empty and apathetic towards anything. His music had fine, not bad, not good, just fine. Hollow, like he was. But now his flame of creativity had roared back to life, and Luna had light the spark.
There was a soft mumble and cry from the bed. Sweat pricked on her brow and Luna's dark eyes danced beneath her lids. She was having a nightmare. Something in Erik knew what to do imminently when he heard her mumble agin. "Shhh" he whispered as he kneeled beside the bed and stroked her sweaty forehead "it's alright" and closed his eyes and sang
"Goodnight, my angel
Time to close your eyes
And save these questions for another day
I think I know what you've been asking me
I think you know what I've been trying to say
I promised I would never leave you
And you should always know
Wherever you may go
No matter where you are
I never will be far away
Goodnight, my angel
Now it's time to sleep
And still so many things I want to say
Remember all the songs you sang for me
When we went sailing on an emerald bay
And like a boat out on the ocean
I'm rocking you to sleep
The water's dark and deep
Inside this ancient heart
You'll always be a part of me
Lu-lu-lu-lu-lu-lu
lu-lu-lu-lu-lu-lu-lu-lu-lu
Goodnight, my angel
Now it's time to dream
And dream how wonderful your life will be
Someday your child may cry
And if you sing this lullaby
Then in your heart
There will always be a part of me
Someday we'll all be gone
But lullabies go on and on...
They never die
That's how
You and I will be"
Erik finished the song and closed his dry lips. The song held a bitter sweet memory for him, he remembered looking out of his tiny bedroom window as a child and hearing a milkmaid singing it to a bundle of swaddling cloth in her arms. She had a lovely voice, sweet and rich as honey, but pure as gold. It was the first time in his early life that he had seen love from mother to child. The bond that apparently could sway kings, break chains, the love that never died. But somehow his mother had defied it, his mother never had a hint of love, caring or concern for him. She fed him and sheltered him but that was it; every stitch of his clothes where filled with hatred and disdain. Every meal was cold and mixed with disgust. Erik knew the only reason she hadn't yet killed him was because it was a sin; his mother was devoutly religious. Twice a day, and half the day on Sunday, she was in the chapel from 6'o clock in the morning till midday. She thought his deformation was the result of her sins. He remembered following her once to the chapel, hoping to gain some favour with her through God. But even then she beat him for dirtying the house of the Lord with his hideous face.
But that love the milkmaid had for her child was something Erik had longed for his whole life, he thought he had found it and lost it with Christine. Yet here he was singing that same song to what he saw as someone like his younger self. He knew she needed love, protection and care. He could see that she could bloom in a something glorious if only she realised her potential. The world had robbed him of that, it wouldn't do the same to her. That was his everlasting promise.
P.s. The lullaby I used is an English translation of Berceuse (Bonne nuit, mon ange), as famous enough French lullaby. You may not recognise the name but you'll probably recognise the tune. Thanks you reading and I'll see you next time xxx