A little bit of everything Multi Fandom Imagines Book Three

Siren of the opera - Part 5 - Erik/Phantom x Reader

(Y/n) was sure that she had never felt so small or alone in her life, as she used the little wooden paddle to force the tiny boat along. The great vaulted ceilings that towered high above her, making (Y/n) feel like little more than an insect in comparison. The crackle of the burning torches, along with the splash of the water, the only sounds to break the overwhelming, almost deafening silence. She wasn't sure how long she had been in the boat. She wasn't even sure how far she had gone from the jetty. But in truth, she didn't really care. She didn't care if the sun in the world above was already high in the sky. Didn't care if her mother was calling for her. If her maid was searching the house for her. Down here, none of that mattered. Down here, she could do what she liked. She could just be herself. Free from expectations and social constraints. (Y/n) believing that she could well understand why someone would want to call the subterranean labyrinth, their home. Why they would want to remain away from the hustle and bustle of the capital above.

Suddenly she spied something in the distance. She couldn't properly make it out in the gloom, but it appeared as if it were another little jetty. A jetty much like the one that she had set off from. A jetty that meant that there would soon be something that was more stable under her feet, than the rocky little boat and the dark water. Pushing up her sleeves, she gripped onto the paddle a little tighter, determined to get to the shaky looking wooden structure. Determined more than ever to see if there was a creature at the centre of this Labyrinth.

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Erik continued to scribble frantically. The Phantom muttering under his breath for the instruments, for the voice of his siren to slow down, so that he could try and catch up. So that he could get the music down onto the parchment. So that he could stop himself from descending into the madness that waited for him. Yet they continued to push. Continued to fight to be heard. Continued to want to be given life. A hint of becoming something real, as the dark haired man marked the notes on the parchment. Each minim, crotchet and quaver freeing his mind from his glorious torment. The ink continuing to splash onto the floor, as Erik dipped his quill into the little pot.

In his mind, Erik could see everything. Every scene of the opera that he was creating. He could envisage the backdrops, the props that would be needed. But most of all, he could see his siren. He could imagine her costumes, the way her hair would be. How it would fall in waves over her bare shoulders. How it would kiss her neck and her softly blushing cheek, just like he wanted to. He could hear how each note would sound, as it came from her beautiful lips. And the whole wonderous vision pushed him to increase his efforts. Pushed him to keep writing. To keep creating.

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(Y/n) breathed a sigh of relief, as she reached out and grabbed the old wooden post that stuck up out of the black water. The jetty not feeling too sturdy. The old wood shaking and creaking slightly, as she wrapped the mooring rope of her little vessel around it. But it was better than the dark liquid that was currently beneath her. (Y/n) only now realising that she had no idea how deep the vast expanse of water was. Also realising that if the little boat had turned over with her in it, she very well might have been dragged down to the depths. The blackness engulfing her, as she tried to recognise which way was up and which was down.

Carefully, she hitched her skirts back into the belt at her waist. Her hand moving back to the post, as she took a deep breath and pulled herself from the dingy. Her heart pounding violently, as she fell onto the dock with a bump. The tiny boat suddenly seeming to have a mind of its own, rocking back and forth, as if telling her that it no longer wanted her as a passenger.

As she held her hand to her chest, doing her best to steady her rapidly pounding heart, (Y/n) reached out to take the flickering candle from the boat. The tiny flame doing little to light the way. To show her what lay beyond the rickety wharf. Yet there really was no turning back now. This was her labyrinth, and she was Theseus. Yet unlike the great Greek hero in the elaborate and confusing structure that had been designed by King Daedalus. She would not be killing her minotaur. In fact, if it truly existed, she hoped that she would be able to speak with him. To learn more about the Phantom. To see if he was as scary as she had heard in the stories.

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Erik dropped his head into his hands. His composition was spilling out of him so naturally, that it was, in truth, a little scary. As if everything that he had ever written before was fake, pretend. And that only at this moment had everything become real. But no matter how much he wanted to continue. How much he wanted to get every note down on paper. The arms of Hypnos were calling to him, despite his protestations. His eyes growing heavy. The black marks on the parchment becoming blurred, as he tried to focus his gaze.

Reluctantly, he dropped the quill to the table. His fingers combing through his hair, as he slowly rose to his feet. Perhaps if he were to splash some water on his face, it would revive him just enough to let him continue for a little while longer. That the sons of the god of sleep would take pity on him, and not send their images to his mind.

Suddenly Erik turned on his heels as he heard a sound. A quiet noise, a noise that would not be audible if it were not in his lair, would have gone unheard. Yet here in his subterranean world, it was thunderous. As if Hannibal's elephants had just made their way into his world. The Phantom quickly retreating to the shadows, as the sound got louder. Grew closer. His eyes growing wide as he saw a figure enter his domain. As he saw the form of his siren step foot into the room that was lit by a hundred candles.