Sorry I haven't updated in a long time. I've been a little ill, and school has decided to become even uglier than it has ever been before. However, I have actually returned, and thus, here we are at chapter three. My sincerest apologies.

I don't, of course, own Zelda, nor do I have the rights to Phantom of the Opera. I am, however, reading the original novel by Gaston Leroux (originally dubbed Le Fântome de L'Opèra), and as such, I am now dwelling even further into the obsessive world. Kudos to me...I highly recommend reading the novel. It may not have the usual elements that a movie/musical production can give, but it does have its suspense, and Christine comes across as a little...insane. Please read that, if you have the time or are lacking in the sanity department.

THE PHANTOM OF HYRULE'S OPERA

Another madness by Ara Laothen

Ch. 3: Little Lotte and the Angel

PHO-

"Bravo! Bravo, mademoiselle! Bravo, to young Daaé and her angelic voice!"

Zelda blushed yet again as she made her way through the labyrinthine ways in the back of the stage. Her dressing room beckoned to her with such intensity that she nearly ran through the crowd that was accumulating at an alarming rate, her mind eager for solitude. The crowds of fellow performers continued to chant her name. She felt more than simple awkwardness at this sudden show of awe and reverence towards her person. They had never acted so towards her before, and why they did now was utterly beyond her. All the attention, though flattering, made her feel all the more isolated, even more so than she had ever felt in her life. And oh, how she longed for the quiet solitude of her room!

Nodding her head graciously towards a young ballet dancer who waved to her, the young dancer's face flushed yet full of excitement, Zelda was about to turn to whoever else called her name when she suddenly felt a presence, a heaviness on her heart that caused her turn towards the darkness of the rafters above. The shadows overhead seemed soothing in their watchful silence.

Zelda turned her head slightly to the side. Had not someone, a face dressed in striking white, been watching her just then? Perhaps it was...

But she shook her head.

Perhaps it was time that she should visit the Opera's chapel first, to thank her beloved teacher and to say her good-evening to her father...

PHO-

"Gods above, how Zelda sang!" a young dancer cried aloud with a giggle as she reached the door leading to the dancers' room. "Malon, since when could Zelda ever sing like that? Last I heard, she barely sang for anyone, let alone a full house!"

Malon smiled in return. "She sings for someone very special, they say," she answered.

"And where in Nayru's name is that girl, anyway?" another dancer asked. "It's high time she let us all know who her 'tutor' is!"

Malon looked around. "I actually...have no idea where she is..."

"Well? Go find her!"

PHO-

Zelda carefully lit a candle, then rested her chin slightly upon her bosom, closing her eyes as she clasped her hands together. The chapel, small and almost windowless save for the stained-glass window to her left, was full of shadows cast by the few lit candles. In front of her, the mural dedicated to the angels of the Sacred Realm seemed to catch the light and merge it with the dancing shadows.

Quietly, she prayed to her father, a ghost of a smile on her lips. The ground where she knelt felt intoxicating and warm to her, her dress billowing about her on the floor like a great, foaming sea.

Once more the presence pressed upon her heart, and a voice softly sang to her in the darkness, causing her to raise her head, her eyes opening slowly.

"Brava, brava...Bravessima!"

She smiled. He was here, here in this room at last!

Footsteps sounded behind her, but she could barely hear it. Her mind existed only for this evanescent voice...

But Malon's voice was heard as well.

"Zelda! Zelda!" Malon called to her.

The strange voice echoed Malon's call. Zelda closed her eyes in ecstasy.

"Zelda..."

Malon smiled at her kneeling friend as she leaned against the entranceway leading to the Chapel. Always like Zelda, Malon mused, to move as far away from attention, wanted or not, to dwell in comforting darkness, far away from the limelight. Her smile softening, her brown eyes dancing in the candlelight, she stepped forward, her hands on her hips in mock severity.

"Where in the world have you been hiding?

Really, you were perfect!"

Malon knelt next to Zelda and nudged her playfully in the shoulder as Zelda looked at her friend. Zelda, a gentle smile spreading across her lips, blushed and glanced down at her hands. Malon shook her head, her eyes sparkling at the sweet, innocent beauty her friend had become that night. So like Zelda to be so embarrassed after performing so wonderfully. Malon narrowed her eyes, her curiosity getting the better of her. Where did Zelda learn to sing with such unprecedented passion? What fantastic tutor had such capacity to bring out that Opera singer everyone had heard tonight? Who was this mysterious teacher Zelda had never spoken about?

"I only wish I knew your secret," Malon mused wistfully with a sigh as she continued.

"Who is your great tutor?"

Zelda suddenly grew pale and more introverted than she had ever been. Her eyes widened, but they sparkled with an intimate and underlying passion that made the blue in them sparkle and shine with a secret power. Malon raised an eyebrow at her friend and made to enquire further when Zelda suddenly leaned forward and, in a voice that seemed both excited and fearful, whispered, "Malon...do you remember when your mother brought me here when I was seven, to learn to dance at the Opera house after my father died?"

Malon nodded, not truly understanding what her friend was trying to say, and why she appeared so differently.

"While my father lay dying," Zelda continued breathlessly, "he spoke to me of an Angel of Music that he would send to me from heaven when he got there...and when I was brought here, to the Opera House, I sometimes heard a voice singing softly to me when I was in my bed..."

Malon narrowed her eyes. "Zelda," she pressed, grasping her friend's hand, "and you think your father has sent an Angel to you? That this angel is coaching you?"

"Who else, Malon?" Zelda whispered back, her eyes alight with eagerness. Malon furrowed her brow.

Zelda looked about the room, as if listening for a voice no one else could hear. She smiled to herself, closing her eyes for a moment before turning back to her bewildered friend.

"Father once spoke of an Angel . . .


I used to dream he'd appear . . .
Now as I sing, I can sense him . . .


And I know he's here . . ."

Suddenly, Zelda stood, her eyes searching the darkness of the room. Malon's bewilderment at her friend's countenance turned quickly to uneasiness. Zelda's usually quiet demeanor had turned unsuspectingly to something somewhat peculiar...as if she had suddenly entered into a trance. Her eyes saw nothing and no one, searching...searching for her Angel of Music, whoever, or, more to Malon's mind, whatever that Angel may be.

But Zelda continued, oblivious to her friend.
"Here in this room


he calls me softly . . .


somewhere inside hiding . . .

Somehow I know


he's always with me . . ."

Zelda placed a hand to her bosom and turned to gaze at her friend's face. To Malon, it seemed asif whatever trance Zelda had been in was slowing ending and fading away.

"He - the unseen genius . . ."

Malon shook her head and took Zelda's hand, eager to lead her friend away from the Chapel.However Zelda felt about it, the darkness of that room pressed ominously upon Malon's mind, sending shivers down her spine and releasing a cold tremor to her heart.Zelda may have a love for the darkness, but Malon was eager to get her friend to her more illuminated dressing room. She wished to coax her suddenly distant friend back to reality again, to see her smile at the light and not revel in the dark.

"Zelda, you must have


been dreaming . . .


stories like this can't come true . . ."

Malon glanced around the corridors as she led the willing Zelda along, sometimes stealing a look at Zelda's far-away blue eyes. She continued uneasily.


"Zelda, you're talking in riddles . . .


and it's not like you . . .
"

Zelda suddenly became ecstatic, her ecstasy showing suddenly in her voice. A smile, almost odd to behold, even fearful, broke through her fiery lips, the color in her face draining even as her eyes flashed with expectancy. Malon had not heard the flutter of fabric from above...but Zelda was eager to make her presence known to the Angel. Her voice suddenly swelled with a power that shocked Malon to her core.

"Angel of Music!


Guide and guardian!


Grant to me your glory!
"

Malon marveled at her friend's sudden change at the mention of this strange, mysterious angel. She questioned the existence of such an apparition...but perhaps that was all that it was. Yet, strangely enough, this "Angel of Music" was as real to Zelda as the very air Malon was breathing as both she and Zelda made their way back to Zelda's dressing room. She glanced at Zelda again, her thoughts in a turmoil.

(Sung): Who is this Angel? This...

And she joined her friend's voice, her tone as questioning in sound as Zelda's was ecstatic, the cerulean eyes of her friend searching every shadow, every dark fabric that fluttered on its own.

"Angel of Music!


Hide no longer!


Secret and strange angel . . .
"

They stopped together before the corridor leading to Zelda's dressing room. Malon once again glanced at her friend, searching those blue eyes. Zelda suddenly looked fearful, as if she had heard something unpleasant coming, or as if all her dreams were coming true at a faster pace than she had anticipated. Malon was about to say something, anything, that might shed some relief to her apprehensive friend, but Zelda's voice suddenly awoke within her once more, but softly, as if she feared to waken someone or something.

"He's with me, even now..."

Malon clasped her friend's hands, but they were icy cold. Zelda's lips were trembling with an emotion that Malon could not comprehend.

"Your hands are cold..."

Zelda didn't even appear to have heard Malon's words as she searched the darkness, all remaining color draining from her face at last. Her eyes wide and shining, Zelda continued on, her voice growing softer and softer.

"All around me..."

Fear at last surfacing through her, Malon placed a trembling hand to Zelda's pale cheek both to see if she her complexion was feverish and to turn Zelda's face towards hers, trying to get those wandering eyes to center in on something, anything, rather than the darkness that was beginning to enshroud them both.

"Your face, Zelda, it's white..."

Zelda's eyes finally found the chestnut eyes of her friend's, and, quite suddenly, and much to the relief of her friend, she came fully out of her trance. She blinked like one who has forgotten where she was at the moment as the color slowly returned to her face. Slowly, she placed a trembling hand to her forehead and shook her head gently.

"It frightens me..."

Her voice shook powerfully. Compassion quickly overcoming fear, Malon took her friend's hands once again, gripping them with a gentle firmness and squeezing them affectionately. Malon shook her head.

"Don't be frightened..."

A soft yet weak smile appearing on her lips, Zelda made as if to say something, when suddenly, and quite shockingly, Madame Impa appeared with her hands on her hips, her lips in a distinctively tight line.

"Malon Impa!" Madame Impa said sternly. "Are you not a dancer?"

Malon opened her mouth, then quickly closed it again as she let go of Zelda's hands to stare down at her feet. "Yes..." she whispered.

"Then stop your charade there with Zelda and get to the dancer's quarters now!" Madame Impa replied sternly. With a nod and a swift glance towards Zelda, who in turn gave her a reassuring smile, Malon moved quickly off, her nimble feet moving as effortlessly and gracefully as a young sprite on a fresh spring morning.

After watching her go, Madame Impa turned to Zelda, her lips breaking into a rare smile as she led Zelda to her dressing room, quickly shutting the door behind her. From her pocket, she withdrew a magnificent and stunningly beautiful red rose, a seductively black ribbon tied about it. Handing it to Zelda, she whispered, "You did very well...he is pleased with you."

Zelda smiled softly, a strange smile that told of stranger times in the past. She took the rose, her smile fading, and gazed at it for a moment, her face serene, her sparkling, distant blue eyes tracing the shadowy ribbon to its core. The rose itself was perfect, a show of magnificent etiquette and stunning perfection in its color and shape. Upon her first glance, Zelda perceived that each of the flower's thorns had been removed with the distinct care of a perfectionist, as if fearing for the recipient's life.

However, upon closer inspection, Zelda, as she traced a delicate finger over the ribbon itself, could feel a sharp thorn hidden by the black sash around the rose, its very presence remaining unnoticed until sensation by touch made its subtle existence known...

"Go on and rest," Madame Impa said presently as she moved towards the door. She opened it slowly, the sounds of a dying crowd quickly entering into the room. Shaking her head, she glanced once at Zelda's preoccupied state, then departed, closing the door once again behind her as she went.

Zelda moved towards her dresser and sat down, her entire thoughts bent towards the rose and its subtle mysteries...

-PHO-

"What a night!" Darunia exclaimed loudly as he made his way through the dying hustle and bustle behind the curtain, deep into the Opera House. He patted Rauru rather forcefully on the back, sending his poor companion stumbling forward and nearly dropping his champagne bottle.

"Yes, indeed," Rauru replied, rubbing his back and coughing a little.

"And I believe we have made quite the discovery in young Miss Daaé!" Darunia continued, winking at Sir Link.

Link started at the name, a blush coming to his cheeks. He nodded in response, then looked about for Zelda's dressing room. It was quite customary, and a rather old tradition, for the patron and the managers of the Opera House to visit and congratulate the lead of the night's opera; this night was no exception.


Link's eyes alighted upon the blessed door leading to Zelda's dressing room, the color already forming on his cheeks taking a more reddish hue with each step that he made towards it. Rauru gripped the champagne bottle; Darunia smiled in anticipation as they reached the door.

But Link wanted this moment, his moment, alone at last with the star of the night. Sighing, he turned to the two managers and said apologetically, "Gentlemen, if you don't mind...I'd like to make this visit unaccompanied."

Darunia made as if to protest, but Rauru, whose interest lay more into the duties of the patron and money-lending aspects of his career than in violating the usual tradition, said quickly, "As you wish, monsieur." Besides, his champagne would therefore not have to suffer the indignity of being shared by others...

Link stepped forward, his hand on the door, when he realized he did not have anything to give to the lead singer, no present, no flowers, nothing save an empty hand and a rapidly beating heart!

He looked around desperately, suppressing a sharp cry of disdain for himself and anguish at his situation, when his eyes alighted upon the gleaming interior of a certain champagne bottle...

Before Rauru could even take a fresh breath of air, Link, with a smile, took the champagne bottle as politely as thievery could ever be, bowed courteously, and was into the dressing room before another word could be uttered.

Darunia raised a questioning eyebrow, then glanced at Rauru. "It appears they have met before," he said quietly.

Rauru merely looked at his empty hands in dismay.

PHO-

The dressing room of Zelda Daaé was pleasantly warm and comforting, an oasis for leisure and meditation, a paradise for pure serenity, and an Eden for the hundreds of flowers piled around the room from friends and admirers. These flowers mostly consisted of either white roses for a pure voice, or blue for serenity and composure on stage. Link felt that it was all perfect as he stole quietly into the room.

Zelda sat solemnly at her desk towards the end of the room, her slender back facing the door and young Sir Link of Hyrule. The small looking-glass in front of her, a miniature of the large mirror to Zelda's left, clearly reflected her serene yet occupied face, her eyes intent upon a red rose bound by a black ribbon which she held tightly in both of her hands. Her lips were slightly parted, as if she were poised to sing yet again.

Link smiled. "Zelda Daaé, where is your scarf?" he announced, raising an eyebrow as his confidence swelled in his beating heart.

Zelda stiffened and turned quickly around in her seat, nearly dropping her flower in her surprise. Her eyes widened when she found that her "intruder" had become something that allowed a blush to form at her cheeks and her heart to race.

Link's smile grew across his face. "You can't have lost it," he continued, his brow furrowed, the grin never leaving his youthful features. "After all the trouble I took. I was just fourteen and soaked to the skin..."

Zelda returned a soft smile to him as she finally understood. But the blush remained. "Because you had run into the sea to fetch my scarf," she replied quietly. "Hello, Link." She stood and smoothed her dress, then suddenly giggled girlishly. "Oh, I have missed you!"

Link blushed, but continued his smile nonetheless as he carefully placed his newly-acquired champagne bottle in the nearest chair. "Zelda," he half-whispered, then embraced her, laughing all the while.

As he drew back, he couldn't help but notice the maturity about her...but there was something glimmering in her eyes, something that shone through the perfect blue that reminded him so strongly of the young girl he had known from before. Or perhaps it was something else?

He smiled again, then said, almost teasingly, " 'Little Lotte let her mind wander...' "

Zelda blushed once more as a faint, reminiscent smile crept across her lips. "You remember that, too," she whispered to him.

Link only smiled as he continued: " 'Little Lotte thought: Am I fonder of dolls...' "

Smiling at their old game from the seemingly distant childhood, Zelda joined in with him. In that small game, the past swelled up within her mind, clearing away all darkness to expose a bright, sunlit room near the sea...the violin playing joyfully in the background...

" '...or of goblins,' " the two said together, " 'of shoes...' "

Again, Zelda giggled, saying, " '...or of riddles, of frocks...' "

Link raised a playful eyebrow and replied, "Those picnics in the attic..." He hadn't forgotten at all their game, nor of the wonderful days he had spent with her. Suddenly remembering to continue, he added to the Little Lotte, " '...or of chocolates...' "

Zelda moved back to her chair with her back to the mirror, that soft smile never leaving her lips. As she sat down, she sighed, and for a brief moment, Link saw a flicker of sadness mingled with undeniable happiness in her eyes, as if she would cry in a moment. He moved towards her, his brow narrowed in concern as he knelt before her. She looked up at him, and suddenly, the emotion was gone. "Father playing the violin," she whispered.

Link nodded. "As we read to each other dark stories of the North..."

A light came to Zelda's eyes. She leaned forward and gently placed a soft and slender hand on his shoulder. " 'No what I love best,' Lotte said, 'is when I'm asleep in my bed...

...and the Angel of Music sings songs in my head!' " she sang softly.

Link's heart fluttered at her voice, his own voice eager to join hers as he began to sing with her with a quiet voice begging to reveal all it felt.

"The Angel of Music sings song in my head!"

Zelda leaned closer to him, her eyes intent and eager. "Father said, 'When I'm in heaven, child, I will send the Angel of Music to you.' " Her voice grew quieter, the emotion she displayed at the name of the Angel growing softer. "Well, father is dead, Link, and I have been visited by the Angel of Music."

Link raised an eyebrow. Something flashed again in her eyes, an emotion paralleling ecstasy, but not quite so. He wondered at it, then marveled at Zelda's sudden childish tone. Her belief, he knew, in her father's "Angel of Music" was as ardent as ever. "Oh, no doubt of it," he replied with a smile. Gathering his courage, he continued quickly: "And now, we'll go to supper!"

Zelda suddenly paled, the color from her blush quickly fading away, its evanescence as shocking as it was swift for poor Link. He gazed at her, his questioning eyes searching her suddenly fearful ones. What was so fearful about supper?

He quailed. Was it because of him?

Zelda straightened in her chair, her eyes subtly glancing about the room before she looked at him once more. She shook her head. "No, Link, the Angel of Music is very strict."

Link sighed quietly with relief. So it is to be this game again, he thought happily. It wasn't because of him at all. He gazed at her eyes, then smiled. "I shan't keep you up late!" he said teasingly.

But Zelda shook her head once more, her face completely serious, almost fearful. "No, Link..."

Link chuckled, his smile widening. It was a precious game, he knew, but he wished to do something special with her for once after all these years. He simply couldn't understand why she was so hesitant. Then, of course, he considered that perhaps her passion for the Opera, personified through this mysterious "Angel" of hers, was keeping her from the joys of a little supper with him...and then, of course, a walk along Hyrule's Market under the moon. His heart fluttered impatiently in his chest. "You must change. I must get my hat. Two minutes, Little Lotte." And without responding to her protests, he kissed her hand and hurried out, his champagne bottle lying forgotten on the chair.

Desperate, Zelda moved after him, but stopped herself, placing a pale hand on the door. Her heart felt heavy in her chest. "Things have changed, Link," she whispered through the door to the emptiness outside.

She made to move back to her dressing room, pondering how to explain her future absence to the young man who had stolen her beating heart, when the room suddenly darkened. With a small gasp, she placed a hand to her heart, her eyes widening. Strangely, she felt a soft wind caress her face, like the gentle fingertips of an unseen man. She trembled longingly, her eyes slowly beginning to close in ecstasy...

The lone candle on her desk was suddenly caught in the wind. Its pale yet excited flame danced vainly in the breeze, then suddenly went out.

The room was plunged into darkness.

Zelda swayed gently on her feet, the darkness pressing beautifully against her, awakening an emotion within her that she knew would burst from her throat in an instant. It was beautiful, intoxicating, and mesmerizing all at once. And in that instant, she felt as if music were being played through the very walls, powerful and almost wonderfully frightening.

And suddenly, a voice from beyond her large mirror erupted in song, its tone angry and full of hatred, powerful, yet as enrapturing as ever.
"Insolent boy!


This slave of fashion


basking in your glory!

Ignorant fool!


This brave young suitor,


sharing in my triumph!"

Despite the anger of the voice, Zelda breathed heavily, the strange emotion that always shocked through her reaching a sudden climax. She opened her eyes and gazed desperately about the room, searching for the bearer of so divine a voice; she was eager to answer him.
"Angel! I hear!


You speak, I listen!


Stay by my side, guide me!"

Suddenlyshe remembered her momentary escapade with Link, and her sudden weakness. And to think she would have gone frolicking off with Link without thanking her Angel first! She stared guiltily at her feet.
"Angel, my soul was weak - forgive me

enter at last, Master!"
Her Angel responded in a softer, gentler voice, causing the girl's heart to flutter in her chest with unimaginable pleasure.

"Flattering child, you shall know me...


see why in shadow I hide!"

Zelda smiled an odd smile, almost drunkenly had she known it at the time. Her Angel thought she was flattering! Would he come to her now? Would she finally see her great tutor? Her heart beat so rapidly in her chest she thought it would burst!

And the voice continued.

"Look at your face in the mirror..."

Zelda willingly obeyed, her eyes tracing lazily towards its glassy exterior, then nearly cried out in surprise. A figure was slowly forming within it as if through mist, appearing behind her reflection. She wanted so desperately to turn around, to see him, but found no power to do so. The young girl was caught fully in the power of the Voice as it crescendoed to her.

"I am there inside!"

A man appeared fully in the mirror, his cloak full of darkness billowing gently about him. His mask, a deathly white, covered the right side of his face, casting a shadow about him to mimic the black clothing he wore that covered him fully. So shadowed was his face that one would have thought that he bore no eyes...but their soft gleam, so passionate, so mesmerizing, caught the attention long before the darker hair atop his mysterious head truly did. He lifted a hand gloved in black to her.

Zelda was spellbound, hardly daring to blink lest he disappear in that instantaneous movement. Tears came to her eyes, but she withheld them. She trembled. Here at last, her Angel stood before her as plainly as her reflection in the mirror! He even remained there when the mirror magically began to slide open, revealing a world of mist in a lighted tunnel behind him. Zelda suddenly answered him in a voice so unlike her own, in a voice she had always sang for him in private, in a voice that rivaled her performance that night.

"Angel of Music!

Guide and guardian!

Grant to me your glory!

Angel of Music, hide no longer!

Come to me, strange Angel!"

Even as she sang, she began to walk slowly towards him, her tears drying quickly on her cheeks, her lips curling into a wondrous, mesmerized smile. Her eyes drank in her Angel with an unprecedented passion. It swelled up inside her, so warm in her bosom as it spread throughout her entire body. Her ecstasy reached beyond its climax as her Angel extended his gloved hand of darkness towards her from beyond the mirror. He sang to her once more; Zelda felt as if her very eyes would roll back suddenly.

"I am your Angel of Music...

Come to me, Angel of Music..."

Unbeknownst to either of them, and much to the Angel's frustration, Link returned outside Zelda's dressing room. Link stopped, his hand still on the handle. "Who's is that voice?" he called dangerously. Who would dare speak to his Zelda before him? "Zelda?" he called as he attempted to open the door.

It was locked!

"Zelda!" Link called.

The girl didn't hear the voice beyond her door. Slowly, her mind full of ecstatic delight, she extended her hand to her Angel, her fingers inches from his own hand. Again, the voice continued.

"I am your Angel of Music...

Come to me, Angel of Music!"

Zelda's breath caught in her throat, her eyes full of her Angel's mesmerizing appearance. Here was her great tutor, here before her!

Their hands grasped, his fingers wrapping around her small ones firmly, but oh, so gently. Zelda's eyelids drooped a little as she willingly allowed him to guide her through the mirror into a dream full of song and darkness underground...a labyrinth where illusion met eternally with reality...

Again, Link called through the door as he tried to open it forcefully once more. "Zelda!" he cried, but there was no one to hear his voice.

The Angel was leading Zelda through a dream...

PHO-

Sorry this took so long...I had a volleyball tournament in Las Vegas, I've been sick, and I'm exhausted still...hope this chapter was okay. Review if you so wish it; they are always appreciated, and will always be worshiped at a low cost of three days or so. Oh, and next chapter will BE THE MOST FUN I'VE EVER HAD! YES, MY FRIENDS! NEXT CHAPTER IS THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA SONG! THE SONG! WOOOOOOOOO...sorry...I get carried away a lot. Farewell, till chapter 4.

"In sleep he sang to me"...COME TO ME, ERIK, MY DARLING PHANTOM! Sorry again...