There was so much Erik wanted to do in that moment: endlessly stare at the angel beside him, entangle his fingers in her curls, caress her soft-skinned face, hold her small hand between his own, kiss her swan-like neck, or freeze the picture forever. It was not a lasting fantasy, Erik knew that. His terrifying face was no sight for a beautiful soprano to see regularly and he wouldn't force Christine to remain with him any longer. He wallowed in despair until Christine stirred. Her blue eyes opened with a flutter of her dark eyelashes, a smile appearing upon seeing Erik sitting in the bed beside her.
"Good morning my dear." Erik smiled bitterly in return.
Christine sighed in contempt, "Good morning."
"I have been quite a demon to you, my apologies."
"Perhaps, but I haven't objected."
He cleared his throat at her comment, "That is not what I meant, Christine. I snatched you away and offered you no choice-"
"Not at all, I have consented to everything. What is this about Erik?"
"You deserve a regular living with the Vicomte, or some other suitor, as I have done nothing but harm you."
"I have rejected Raoul and suffered through your disappearance. How could I refuse my caring tutor since childhood? "
"That is exactly my point, I lied to you for several years and took advantage of your naivety. I was already a man when I saw you as a slip of a girl in the chapel- that is simply obscene!"
"Clearly you haven't observed the custom of marriage. Most ladies marry men of status and wealth, not for love. I don't wish to make the mistake of these young women who commit themselves into abusive husbands simply to live with a title."
"What a brilliant girl you are, my Christine! But I am no kindly young man suitable for yourself. You have seen my monstrous face and temper."
"Neither of which have frightened me away. Erik, you must see that I'm no fragile porcelain doll that will shatter at a mere touch."
He tried to find words to respond, but wasn't able to find a fitting rebuttal to her declaration. With a sigh, Erik gave in and pulled the blanket over his scarred chest as a cover. Christine smiled in victory.
In the distance, the alarm sounded and alerted Erik. He shot up from the bed and dressed with haste in his usual dress clothes. Replacing the mask, he left Christine briefly to investigate which invader had dared come into his lair. He struggled slightly to step through the cragged stone path along the lake and concealed himself in the shadows while watching out for the wanderer.
His mind conjured up an image of the brave, young Vicomte looking helpless through the tunnels and nearly stumbling over his own feet. Unfortunately, his fantasy was proven wrong upon seeing the Daroga disappointedly stamping through the pathways. Erik stepped out and creeped up behind him to frighten the Persian man. The Daroga yelped in surprise, then swatted the masked man away.
The disappointed expression reappeared, but the pair walked back to Erik's abode before any conversation was made outside of casual greetings. They sat down in the drawing room and the Persian began by asking whether Christine was present nearby. Erik confirmed his belief, resulting in the Daroga yelling at him in his native tongue so as the girl wouldn't understand the conversation.
"How could you have the audacity to kidnap a girl again? And so publicly!" He shouted.
"I'm well aware that my actions were irrational, but everything was consensual besides the trapdoor in the stage." Erik retorted.
"What are you speaking of?"
"Nothing that concerns you, Daroga."
"Don't tell me you lied to and with her."
A snide smirk formed on Erik's face, "If I wasn't so protective of my dear Christine, I'd invite you to find out for yourself."
"I'd congratulate you for finding an admirable lady, but your methods were anything but honest! You've abused her trust and put her in danger."
"I've expressed those thoughts to her and she is stubborn as a mule. She is-"
Erik was cut off by the sound of Christine's light footsteps entering the room. The girl was dressed in her underclothes and covered herself with a long silk robe, walking with a slight limp. She greeted the Daroga politely, feeling confused by his appalled expression.
"Um...hello Ch-Christine." The Perisan man stuttered.
Erik still smirked, oozing a confident attitude.
"Good morning messier Daroga."
"I must apologize for intruding on your morning and pulling Erik from your side, but it was all from concern for you after the events of Don Juan."
"All is forgiven, I appreciate your care for my wellbeing. Although I must ask why you stated that Erik was beside me, as I was in bed."
"Don't fret, my dear," Erik began, "The Daroga is a wise man who used visual clues to figure out what people had been doing for a living. Besides, he knows you to be a lovely girl of great honor."
The mentioned man was discomforted between them.
Erik continued, "Additionally, my dear, he doesn't believe that you were willing in all of this. I'm not quite Hades, abductor of the pretty goddess Persephone."
"I did not call you Ha-" The Daroga retorted before being gently cut off by Christine.
"If you excuse me, messier, I was in such a miserable state while Erik left me alone and the only part he did not ask me permission in was invading his own opera."
"I'm glad you have accepted him and disproved my assumptions. My apologies for disrupting your morning; I shall leave you both alone but warn Erik to be as courteous to you as he has been and not to wreak havoc on innocent people."
With that, the Daroga left through one of the several trails beneath the Populaire and Erik sighed in relief. He was grateful that his friend did not attempt to remove Christine from his lair nor bring someone like Raoul down with him. The girl maintained her content smile and looked towards her "captor".
Her long silk robe, upon further view, was not as concealing as Erik believed. It appeared to very lightly conceal Christine's practically bare form. Underneath, only a see-through chemise and tight corset were visible. White slippers covered her small ballerina feet and, once she sat down, the silk material rode up to her knees. Erik was in agony thinking of her unique frame: the dips on her hips, beauty marks sparsely dotting her entire body, prominent collar bones, slightly protruding abdomen, elegant curve of her back, strong calves, slim wrists, and petite girlish chest. Especially after the previous night.
In his mind, music started to form. A dramatic, rising violin line soared in incredibly high notes with romantic-style intervals that sounded just like the feeling of slowly rising anticipation or a blooming rose bud. Erik felt as though he were floating whenever he touched Christine, and his music would have to reflect it. Perhaps it wouldn't be as long as his Don Juan but it would be more beautiful and inspiring.
He noticed Christine's disappointed expression when his mind seemed far-off and he began walking out of the room. Erik was like a madman- only focused on the consuming task of writing a piece and translating his feelings, which was hard enough to do with words, into music. It was a challenge alone to avoid knocking over the black ink. Christine cautiously approached him only several minutes later, asking if her Angel was alright. She momentarily distracted Erik as he affirmed that it was just some music that he was composing and it needed to be written down before he forgot. By the early evening, the song was roughly composed on his parchment in messy black ink and he tested it on his violin.