The Art of Manipulation || Phantom of the Opera & Loki the God of Mischief ||

-It Takes Ugliness To Know Beauty-

-It Takes Ugliness To Know Beauty-

*flashback*

"There was so much beauty in your soul, Erik, so much beauty that I fear now, because of one old man's folly, will never see the light of day." ~ Giovanni in Phantom by Susan Kay

~*~

Pausing to catch my breath, I stood by one of the doorways leading to the lair and knocked gently on the rough stone. Smiling through my rapid, exhausted breaths, I called out, "May I come in?" Peering out from behind the doorway, I scanned the warmly lit area of the lair, finding no one but lonely shadows.

Placing one foot around the corner, I crept from behind the doorway, "Hello?" My voice echoed across the underground lake and back; the echos, as of this moment, serving as my only companion.

I ventured into the guest bedroom Erik recently took as his own, thinking he may be sleeping. Stepping over scattered objects - a candelabra, sheet music, drawings, a random silver bowl that was definitely stolen from the kitchen (or, as Erik would correct, "borrowed from the kitchen".) - a smile crept onto my face just as stealthily as I my movements about the lair.

Erik.

In the privacy of my room - and unfortunately whenever I thought no one was listening...and was proven wrong - I repeated the name Erik had shared with me a little over a week ago.

Erik. Erik, Erik, Erik.

For whatever reason, it felt like it didn't fit him, like it was another thing he had "borrowed". In spite of this it is still his name, the name he had given himself. And, after much guessing and prodding, he had finally told me his name. And, his true name or not, what a beautiful name it is. A beautiful name for a beautiful man and a beautiful voice. Gods in Valhalla, help me, I am completely smitten.

The vacant red sheets that laid on the swan bed frame were tangled in a wild mess, much like the mortal who slept in them. Or, occasionally slept in them, considering the man hardly sleeps. Out of habit, I straightened the sheets, fluffing the pillows and setting them in their rightful place. The cleaning spree officially started, I began gathering the stray scraps of notes and papers that were spread over the nightstand located on the right side of the bed. I didn't read them, out of respect for Erik's privacy. I merely put them in a pile and sat them atop the dresser sitting against one of the walls.

The furniture was all made out of polished mahogany, the rich red color making them look like they had their cardiovascular system on display for anyone who looked at them. On the dresser, Erik had small sculptures set out like a tiny exhibit in case Erik did have company. Next to these little figurines was a small picture frame, showing off a photo of a woman who looked to be no more than twenty five. She is quite beautiful, whoever she is.

The longer I stared at the oval frame, the more jealous I became; an emotion I wasn't accustomed to feeling.

Who is this woman? Did Erik have a wife? Does he still have a wife? If so, I would have to stop all interactions with him. If I were his wife and my husband were having relations with a woman who was smitten with him, I would surely not approve of it, no matter how innocent the relations were. Or how innocent the woman's intentions were.

The sound of sliding rock behind me snared my attention, causing me to gasp and whip around. A shape the size of a large rectangle began to form in the wall opposite me, the stones scraping against each other as the rectangle moved. When the secret door opened all the way it exposed a man, wearing nothing but trousers and his new white half mask.