Chapter Text
The stones were cold on Eren’s feet, and damp enough that it soaked the bottom of his stockings. The candelabras lining the walls cast a soft, warm glow as their flames flickered and cracked. Water dripped in time with his steps.
And yet, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Nothing but the Phantom in front of him, his hand supporting Eren’s and guiding him, just as his voice had guided him for years. The mystery of his tutor, the shadow of the Opera Ghost over the stage each night, all culminated and one in front of him. His chest was full of awe and wonder, and when the Phantom turned to glance at him, desire was added to the mix and it made Eren’s knees weak and his heart pound.
“You can relax,” the Phantom said. His cool voice made heat pool in Eren’s stomach. “You’re safe with me.”
“I know.” He felt safe. Still, it didn’t stop him from taking a glance back as they rounded a corner. The hall was too long for him to see his room anymore, and any trace of it vanished as they turned and headed down a set of spiraling stone stairs.
The Phantom led him to a black mare, which whinnied softly as they approached. The Phantom hummed softly, setting the torch he carried in a bracket to rub her neck. He pulled Eren close, his fingers skirting under his robe to press against his silk covered back as Eren reached out to pet the horse.
“She’s beautiful,” he breathed.
“Yes, she is.”
The Phantom motioned for Eren to mount the horse, and he did so willingly. He sat sidesaddle and grasped the knob of leather in front of him as the Phantom took the reins. He could feel the man’s gaze on him before the horse began to move. Eren’s breath briefly caught in his throat.
The mare’s hooves clacked on the stones as she walked. Eren drank in the area around him. Were they still under the opera house? Or had they moved beyond that and into the city’s catacombs? He didn’t know. The stones and torches didn’t give any indication.
He watched the Phantom, too. How his cape flowed around him like water, a part of him. How, despite his short stature, his presence commanded the tunnels and halls. He was nothing Eren had imagined the Opera Ghost to be, but everything he had dreamt of when he thought of his Angel of Music. Every word he spoke to Eren was melodic, as if he truly were the embodiment of the music he’d been teaching him. The theories and technical skills of music didn’t apply to him. The Phantom was music. He was a song that had Eren hypnotized and filled him with a longing he didn’t know could exist.
The carefully cut and placed stones gave way to gravel and sand. The Phantom led the mare onto a dock where he tied her reins to a hitching post. If Eren wasn’t so enraptured by his fantasies coming to life, he'd wonder how and why this all existed. But he couldn’t, only able to focus on the man who was guiding him from the horse to the small gondola bobbing on the underground lake. The Phantom held one of his hands, and his other arm was firm and strong around his waist. His gloved fingers slid down Eren’s side and over his hip as he climbed aboard the boat, only moving away once he sat down on the cushions.
The Phantom stood behind him, taking the long pole to steer them away from the dock and into the dark waters of the lake. The splashing of moving water was soothing, the reflection of it on the walls from the torchlight enchanting. Eren cautiously leaned over, the tips of his fingers dragging across the cool surface.
“Am I dreaming?” he mused, momentarily forgetting he could be heard.
“I assure you, you are very much awake,” the Phantom said. Eren tilted his head back as gloved fingers caressed his neck, moving his hair away to expose his skin. “Sing for me, Eren.”
“Yes, Master,” Eren breathed. “What should I sing for you?”
“Whatever you want. Seduce me with your voice.”
Eren nodded as the Phantom’s fingers lingered on his pulse point before pulling away to steer the boat. Since his throat still felt a bit raw from the opera, he decided to go with a basic warm-up riff, starting in his lower register and working his way up. His voice echoed beautifully off the stone walls and the water, even better than in the chapel or the theater proper.
“That’s it, Eren. Keep going.”
He presses through a key change, taking his notes higher and dancing around the bottom of his falsetto. He holds that key for a few passes of his riffs, partly to not over-stress his vocal chords, but mainly because the towering candelabras he could see popping out of the mist were pulling his attention. An iron gate lay in front of them, and he wanted to know what lay beyond it. He always had been a curious man, after all.
“Sing, Eren,” the Phantom urged. “Sing for me. Sing for your Angel.”
Eren fully entered his falsetto as the gate began to rise. It spurned him more. His voice was in control, bending the world to its will. Even the mist seemed to part for them as he sang higher and higher, stretching to his limit.
“ Sing! ”
Eren hit the highest note he possibly could as the boat passed through the gate. He held it until the wooden bottom met the gravel shore. He let it go, but it still echoed around the cavern for a moment longer. It fit the eerie nature of the place, and yet, Eren felt at peace.
The Phantom hopped off the back of the boat with the grace of a dancer, resting the pole against the rock wall. He slung his cape off and placed it on a hook, giving Eren a chance to get an idea of his build. He was slender, but well-muscled. His waistcoat fit snug, letting Eren imagine what lay beneath. The black cravat in the Phantom’s collar helped to accentuate the length of his neck, his skin smooth and pale, but glowing in the candlelight. He was beautiful. Eren wished he could only see his face.
He watched with bated breath as the Phantom moved, taking in every rock and crevice of the cavern. Tables, a chair or two here and there, an organ at the highest point. A place of honor. It only made sense. The Phantom was like him, of course, a man whose life revolved around music. The masked man climbed to the organ’s domain, pausing to look down at Eren. Eren stared up at him like an adoring pupil, or a devout worshipper. Not that it mattered, the line between the two was already blurred for him, anyway.
“Welcome, Eren,” the Phantom said. “To my home. To the home of music. Where music lives and breathes. Where you and I both must bow to it’s splendor.”
“It’s beautiful,” Eren said, his voice breathy. “Are we—“
“Shh.” The Phantom pressed a gloved finger to his lips, and Eren fell silent. Obedient, his hands folded in his lap. Ready to learn.
The Phantom came back down to the level of the boat. The grace he moved with was unlike any dancers’, fluid and elegant, as if he walked on air. Only the steady tap of his boots on the rock held any indication that he was indeed grounded. An angel with no wings, a man not of Earth. He approached the boat and offered Eren his gloved hand. The soprano took it, allowing himself to be guided from the boat. His feet met the stone, surprisingly dry for being so near the underground lake. Eren followed the Phantom’s every step, his eyes fixed on the blue and white eyes before him. He only looked away as they passed a diorama of the theater proper, complete with a mini figurine of himself on stage, his dress from act three recreated in immaculate detail. A gentle tug on his arm made him turn his attention back to his mysterious tutor.
“Careful,” the Phantom said. “Watch your step.” He backed up the stone steps towards the organ, and Eren had to be careful not to step on his robe and trip. Still, he felt sure and steady with his hand in the Phantom’s. He wouldn’t let him fall.
They reached the top and the Phantom turned Eren so he could look out across the lake, smooth as black glass. The reflection of the many candles flickered across the water like liquid fire. The lake beyond the old iron gate lay silent, disappearing into darkness and mist. There was no indication of where they had come from, how they got here. They were in a small world of their own.
“Close your eyes,” the Phantom instructed. Eren did so without hesitation. He felt hands curl around his waist, a torso pressed against his back. His body was pulled backwards and down, just a bit, pliant to the other man’s whim. “Now listen. Listen to the music of this place, my inspiration, your guidance.”
At first it was just the movement of water. Then it was the beat of drips from above, different tones and sounds as they hit water and rock and metal. The whistle of not quite stagnant air joined in, mingling with their breaths. The soft crackle of candle fire. He could even hear his own heartbeat, the whoosh of his blood in his ears.
“It’s different isn’t it,” the Phantom whispered , his breath tickling Eren’s ear. The hands on his waist traced their way to his stomach, pressing him closer to the Phantom’s body. Strong muscles supported his back even as his knees grew weak. Fingers moved down his torso towards his hips, toying with the hem of his shift and raising goosebumps on the skin of his thigh. The other hand moved up to his chest with gentle pressure, ghosting up to his neck before sliding back down again. An ache formed in his gut and heat spread through his body, flushing his skin. His heart sped up, hammering a new rhythm against his ribs. His lungs convulsed with his shallow breaths, spasming like they did when his voice was untrained and his breath control was almost non-existent. His body melted a bit more under every touch, every caress, every tease, craving more. A dancer should always be in control of their body, and Eren’s was being taken from him piece by piece. He willingly offered it up.
“You’d never experience this up top,” the Phantom continued. “But even the natural music of the world is different when it’s night. Beautiful, natural, rough and untuned. Day time covers it in cacophony. Exposes all the hidden things that let people live in blissful ignorance in the solitude of night. You know as well as I do that such blatant and exposing honesty is damaging.”
He pulled away, and Eren was snapped back into awareness with the loss of a body against his. His cheeks burned and he tried to shake off the longing that coursed in his blood. He would not, could not, admit how submissive he had become, how close he came to begging for more. Though, he’s sure his night clothes weren’t doing him any favors in that regard. The set was comfortable and perfect, but not designed to conceal anything from those who wanted to look. If the Phantom had noticed anything, he was being polite enough not to bring it up or blatantly look.
“Eren, do you trust me?” he asked. Eren could only nod, his eyes transfixed on him and the knowledge of what just happened leaving him mute. The Phantom held his hand out again, a small smile tugging on his lips. “Then come. There’s more for you to see.”
Eren took his hand again, letting himself be led down from the organ’s pedestal to the other side of the cavern. Drapes of different colors and fabrics hung on the walls and over objects (mirrors, he realized as he caught a glimpse of glass in a frame peeking out from under red velvet). The Phantom paid his belongings no mind, his eyes fixed on Eren the entire time. Eren’s stomach fluttered with butterflies, heart skipping a beat or two or three. The gaze of his angel, his warm smile, and his gentle grip made Eren breathless. It brought a delicate smile to his own lips.
Whenever the Angel of Music had asked him to perform, he did so. When the Phantom asked him to sing, he complied. And in this moment, he knew he would bow to this man’s command if it was given. He would willingly become a slave to him.
They rounded a corner and the Phantom drew back a drape, this one silk and nearly sheer. Eren peeked into the crevice and his eyes flew wide. He drank in every inch of the pristine white dress on the mannequin. Every inch of it was covered in small gems and delicate folds, lace detailing on the hem and the bust. It was far more gorgeous than his costume dress. The veil paired with it made it obvious what it was.
A wedding gown. One fit for a princess or the nobility.
The shock didn’t end there. Eren stared into false eyes that perfectly mirrored his own, down to the golden brown near his pupil and the flecks of light green interspersed into his normal emerald irises. His nose, his cheeks, his lips. His hair piled elegantly on the back of the mannequin’s head.
It was too much. This was too much.
His mind went blank before his body fell limp, unconsciousness taking him away from the man who desired him. The Phantom caught his body before he hit the floor, and hoisted him into his arms. His frame was lithe, his muscles more lean due to his profession, but he was still heavy and yet the Opera Ghost carried him like he weighed nothing.
The Phantom carried Eren to a large bed, black drapes pulled up and out of the way. He gently and tenderly laid the sleeping soprano down, and brushed hair away from his face.
“Rest, my angel,” he crooned. “Tomorrow is another big day. You’ll be the star you were always meant to be. And we’ll take the opera by storm. Together.”
He stepped back and tugged a cord, letting the drapes fall around the bed so Eren could rest in privacy.
Soon, all would be perfect.