Chapter 6

The Phantom's Aria- (no pun intended)

AN- this will be VERY short! It is just about an evening in the cottage.....


Christine sighed, setting down her shovel at the clock's insistent chime from indoors, she dusted off her hands and then went in, washing them and changing from her work clothes. She set about making dinner in the kitchen when a melody swam in from the living room, enticing her to come to it.

She made sure that the food would not burn if she left it, turning down the heat by putting it out some, then she followed the sweet sound to her fiancé, playing softly on his violin. She smiled, sitting next to him, his eyes closed as he played the enchanting piece, they opened momentarily, and he gestured to some parchment on the table, she lifted it, and he began the song again, she followed with the words.

It was the height of a new Opera he had been working on, the aria, written for her voice. Since they could not bring a piano the violin was the only accompaniment he could provide other than his voice. But his attention was on his music, and he had closed his eyes, allowing himself concentration.

She found it much easier to do with her own eyes closed, the song soared from her, a golden melody of love and torment, her bell like voice filled the room, but she didn't pay heed to it, she lost herself in the music.

She had not noticed when Erik stopped playing, she continued to sing, until the aria came to an end, and she sighed at this, finally looking at him, crying out with alarm at the tears on his cheeks.

"Did I sing something wrong?" She asked, she clasped his hands, holding his wrists firmly until he pulled them away to wipe his eyes messily on his sleeves.

"No my love, that was so perfect and so beautiful." He kissed her hand, shivering slightly, and then scooping her up into a hug, she melted like puddy in his arms, savoring the embrace as if it would be their last.

But it wouldn't, this she knew. She would stay with him forever, and would love him longer than that. She sniffed and could smell the food begin to really get done. She bolted up and took the items off the stove, working at portioning them out to be eaten, even with the whistling tea kettle she could hear his rich, deep laughter coming from the sitting room, rolling like a river, the beat of it even more rhythmic than that of a drum.