A Song for the Nightingale

Julian

Beyond the pane of my all-seeing looking-glass, things appeared to be going exactly as I had aspired, even if the scene before me showed June in the act of disobeying me at any and all turn of events.

The poor thing couldn't help it, really. I supposed that it had a lot to do with her frazzled state of mind – that to which I had contributed greatly without reservation. Her lucid dreams didn't help, perhaps? In any case, all that mattered now was that I knew there was a guarantee on my side and therefore it mattered little that she revealed things she shouldn't have.

Had my chambers not been so dim then, I would not have been able to discern the two shapes from the shadows amidst the candle-light of the Phantom's lair – that of the man in the mask, and the company he had yet again invited to fulfill his unrelenting want for the simple games of chess.

Glancing back from the soothing flames of the fireplace, June was again looking at Erik, after pondering his words and it was with a strange, fascinated satisfaction, that I watched the hint of sadness overtake the depths of her eyes then. Intently, I listened to the soundless words in her mind, and witnessed her struggle to push the slight, bitter disappointment aside.

From the visible effort that appeared as mere hesitance to Erik, he was still, nonetheless pleased with her small nod of concurrence.

Your heart so wanted to say no, June, didn't it? Yet it also won't let you, will it?

No, of course I did not actually revel in her pain, but rather, in my knowledge that my lesson was taking its course, and soon, little by little, she would see how futile this all had become, and inevitably, with the passage of time, her powerless situation would hold her to the consequences of our agreement.

And thus, will bind my little pet to me forever…

Indeed, it was strange to admit that this is what I desired. This understanding squelched the mysterious longing that had grown and was now progressively ailing me more and more. As soon as I had realized this, the storm then ceased within me, and I now realized that her humanity didn't have to be her disadvantage…or my own. After all, had she been a sorceress, her power to choose would have condemned me to live without her.

Still, even as powerless as she would remain throughout an eternity by my side, she would become ageless. Surely this idea would flatter her, no? How many humans actually looked forward to decaying into non-existence?

As soon as she could see that this Erik could not love her, perhaps fate would force her to turn in my direction?

But why was I thinking about Erik's love? What did love have to do with what I was feeling? This was all just a game, was it not? And no one had to know that I was twisting fate to my favour!

The disdainful, frustratingly insistent drawback that leered at me, was that I would somehow have to get her consent before all of this ended; it was the only way I could take her back to my world. Was it possible, somehow, to make her think she had assented?

No, somehow I can't touch her mind…I couldn't go that far.

The last thing I wanted to do was to tamper with who she was.

Yes, I want to possess her even to the point of-

But really, how could I even consider love? It was ridiculous!

Briefly, as I watched her desperate attempt to recompose herself with yet another sip of tea, I allowed myself to feel sympathy for her, but only because of her successful effort to hide how deeply she ached upon seeing the piece that the Phantom had then retrieved from his room, setting onto the stand he had also brought with him…

…as though its metal frame was feather-light, I heard June's forlorn observation.

Yes, June, the meaning behind its title does hurt, doesn't it? You know very well for whom that lovely, one page "Nightingale" composition was written?

Yes, I would be sure to ask her why she even bothered to hope!

In keen interest, I continued to watch, but when the combination of her and my raw emotions combined became overwhelming, I withdrew my awareness from what June was feeling, though continued to watch the mere surface of the events.

Still, what the Phantom couldn't see as it was masked by the darkness as well as her great acting abilities, I could plainly perceive in her hazel orbs. He didn't know her well enough to understand, nor did he gaze at her long enough to see…I had made sure he would never be able to do so.

Numerously, her eyes read the title, over and over, her flawless knowledge of the French language mocking her.

Ironic, she thought, that this was the very skill Julian so decisively instilled in me more than a month ago.

Like a soft caress, her saddened voice broke the silence as he lifted the instrument upon his shoulder, and went to stand next to the stand that held his newest composition.

"Is it new?"

"Yes, it is something I just finished not too long ago."

Bull's-eye, I thought as I studied her face in the soft, subtle light.

It was even more difficult for her when he began to play the instrument, because not once, she noticed, had he actually glanced at the score that was before them. It was innately a part of his soul…

Just like the bond with Christine, June thought sullenly as she swallowed the tender, growing lump in her throat. Unwilling to look at him, the girl went back to the settee, trying with all her miserable might to keep from trembling due to emotions I knew were coursing through her heart.

When the song was finished, the man timidly removed the violin from the crook of his neck, observing the girl on the settee and briefly wondered whether his music was to blame for how dejected she seemed, but June hadn't noticed his gaze until he took a small, tentative step toward her.

"That was beautiful." She quickly said as though she could mysteriously sense his thoughts, and also, with the hope that this would stop him from approaching further. The last thing she wanted was for him to see any evidence of the tears that were threatening to emerge.

Another silence followed, during which I found myself yearning to reach out to June, and to remove her from there. I was tempted to make her fall asleep, just so she would forget the pain for a brief moment.

But wasn't this what I wanted? Things were going according to plan and what was I thinking? I was becoming weak!

I must not allow myself to fall prey to such silly whims.

When the deafening silence was broken by the soft chiming of some clock apparatus between them, followed by Erik's rather chilled, distant tone, June looked back up at him. I, too, felt the slight pang in her heart from his words and I contentedly reminded myself that this pang marked triumph on my part.

"It is quite late; you may stay the night, if you wish."

With no visible response from June, Erik turned to leave, but to both my and June's surprise, he returned a moment later with a velvet material hanging on his arm. My little June stood up questioningly as he extended it to her, and without any words she took that cursed cloak from him that was to be her blanket for the night.

As the Phantom proceeded to extinguish the lights in his drawing room, June still did not move from the spot she had stopped, irritatingly holding that piece of material so tenderly, as though it were Erik himself.

"Cursed deformed creature!" I spat at the mirror, willing her to stop gaping at him, causing her to blink in dismay and crumble into a chair closest to her.

Darkness descended in the Phantom's abode then, and each pretended to go to sleep, though June was the one I watched until the heaviness of my gaze revealed that I too needed to rest.

It was in the early hours of morning that June awoke, screaming from a nightmare that, for the first time in a while, had nothing to do with me or my magic. Yes, it irked me slightly to see her so disconcerted and frightened, but I was even more piqued when that masked man rushed out to see what the commotion was all about. And, to top off these events, when June became conscious, pained by her usual brain-cramps, to my irritated dismay, what he did then actually brought her peace, causing her to drift into sleep once again.

I felt my jaw tighten from my helpless aggravation as my teeth clenched and I stood fuming.

What else could June do but forget her pain upon hearing the Phantom of the Opera's sung lullaby, in his incredible, unearthly voice?

Spitefully, I took comfort in the fact that she would no doubt recall the melody which was the same piece he had played for her a few hours prior…