I was fixing my hair in my dressing room, brushing it as I got ready for rehearsals. Once again, my strawberry-blonde locks went stick-straight five minutes after I curled it. I looked my body over in the full-length mirror, and wrinkled my nose a bit in distaste. Even though it was my eighteenth birthday, I still hadn't developed any truly feminine curves. I sighed. I guess that's what made a good ballerina. At least I wasn't totally ugly…

Turning from the mirror, I began to gather my make-up when I felt a chill up my spine. Though I hadn't heard anyone come in, something in my mind told me I was no longer alone in my dressing room…

"What a lady you have become," a smooth voice purred from behind me.

I didn't even need to turn around to know that voice. My heart pounded. I was alone with the Phantom of the Opera. Maybe it was because I'd lived in the Opera for all my life, or maybe it was because I'd never been too scared of ghost stories to begin with, but I found that I was not afraid to turn and face my visitor.

"Erik," I whispered. Nothing like the babbling nonsense that Joseph coughed up to the other dancers. This man was beautiful…the legendary white mask he wore only added to the enchantment, in my own opinion…

"You know my name," he said, tilting his head slightly. "Smart girl. Then again, you are Madame Giry's daughter. Which is explanation enough…"

My breath quickened as he glanced over my room, walking towards me slowly. Eyeing me, he tilted my chin up with a gloved hand, almost admiringly.

"You're not the little firebrand that you used to be," Erik murmured. "Grown wiser with age, have we?"

This caused me to smile. "Oh, I assure you, Monsieur, I am wiser, but no less the troublemaker."

He laughed, and released my chin from his touch. This did nothing for the hold he now had on my soul, and I was surprised at the rapid, rather unlady-like thoughts that flew through my head. Erik paused, then gave an approving nod.

"Go to your lessons," he said softly. "But return here, before the performance tonight…"

I heard a loud knock at my door, and I jumped nearly a foot off the ground with a small shriek. I turned to face my mother as she walked in, wondering how on earth I was going to explain THE Opera Ghost in MY room.

"Whom were you talking to?" she asked.

I turned back to look towards the mirror…he was gone.

"Erik…." I whispered, laying my forehead on his shoulder as the horses went faster, the buggy drawing ever nearer to Doom. "Please…forgive me…"

After rehearsals, I made the excuse that my shoes had frayed and I needed to find my spares before the play began. Quickly, I made my way back to my dressing room, wondering what the Phantom was planning. When I entered my room, there was no sign of anyone, much less a God of Music. I found myself somewhat disappointed.

I was about to leave, when I noticed a note on my make-up dresser. Picking it up, I noticed a small red box underneath. The note was short, and to the point.

"Dear Mademoiselle Giry,

This is a token of my thanks to you and your mother. Consider it a good-luck charm, for so long as you care to wear it. I will be watching. Good luck to you"

It didn't even need to be signed. I glanced at the box, opening it carefully, but I almost dropped it in shock when I saw what was inside. A gold ring, inlaid with one of the most perfect sapphires I had ever seen, about the size of my small finger's nail. Trembling, I slipped the ring onto my finger. A token, indeed! More like a propo—

"MEG!" my mother's voice yelled. "Curtain in ten minutes!"

Calming myself, I slipped the note into my dresser, changed my shoes, and got ready to dance my heart out.

"Meg…" he sighed, turning his eyes to me. "I cannot love. And I cannot forgive."

I had never danced like I did that night. My heart and soul went into every movement, and at the end of my solo act, I had never been so grandly applauded. As I exited the stage, my mother threw herself at me, hugging me until I could barely breath.

"Oh, my little Meg! That was wonderful! Excellent! How did you…." She stopped, looking at my hands, which she had clasped between her own. Turning over my left hand, her eyes froze on the ring.

"Where did you get that?" Madame Giry asked frantically. "Answer me!" she cried when I failed to reply.

"It was given to me," I said, my voice faint.

She let out a pained moan, squeezing her eyes shut and pressing my hand to her mouth, rocking as if she was in agony. "Not my baby…not my baby…." She wailed, trying hard not to weep.

I lowered my gaze, trying not to panic. "Mama, what's wrong?"

The ferocity in her eyes scared me, as she gripped my hands and stared at me. "Take off that ring. Take it off, hide it or throw it away, I care not. But whatever he asks of you, promise me you will refuse. No matter what, promise me!"

I whimpered. "Mama! Why do I have to—"

"PROMISE ME!"

"I promise!" I cried, starting to weep. She let go of me, and I rushed back to my dressing room, shutting and locking the door behind me. No sooner had I began to cry freely, then a gloved hand brushed against my cheek.

"Little one," the Phantom's voice murmured soothingly. "What is the matter?"

I shook my head, slowly sliding off the ring, and holding it out in a shaking hand. "I…I cannot…accept."

He was silent, hand still on my cheek. I dared to raise my eyes to his, and I felt a stab of grief at the sorrow in his gaze.

"All these years," he said quietly. "All this time, you have known me. You have brazenly walked where no other dancer dared go. You spoke for me when no one else would. And now…you turn your back to me?"

A sob tore from my throat as I pulled away, memories from times when I had walked the stairs to the forbidden Box 5. Times I had scorned the dancers for mocking the Opera Ghost. Refusing him was too much to bear.

"Your father found his angel in your mother," Erik said, taking the ring from my hand and walking towards the mirror. "I had hoped…that I found mine in her daughter…"

I looked up, but he had vanished. I cursed myself, my body shaking as I sobbed. As I went towards my bed, wanting to curl up and die, I noticed a shimmer on my dresser. The ring lay there, almost as if it were mocking my cruelty. I didn't blame it one bit.

Fingering the chain around my neck, I slowly brought out the object I'd hidden for so long. The sapphire gleamed in the fading sunlight as I held it in my palm. Erik's face paled, and I smiled faintly.

"I still love you," I choked, my voice cracking. "I always have."

One month later, I had moved into a new room, and the new girl…Christine Daae…had moved into my old one. It wasn't by my own choice, really, but I was almost glad to have a new room with no revolving mirrors and a hidden trapdoor. I let myself be in denial, but knowing Erik, there was probably a trapdoor in every room.

It wasn't until a few weeks later that I glimpsed a scene that I would never soon forget…Erik, my beloved, falling head over heels for that Prima Donna, Christine. My heart felt torn in two…but I swore to myself, no one but me would ever know.