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♫ Christine Daaé ♫

Once seated closer together, Christine nodded and set her head on her teacher's shoulder, her eyes sliding closed. "I understand, Master. I will ask Raoul to keep away from me whilst I am being taught." Deep on the inside, however, Christine felt guilt at pushing away her childhood friend. She loved him once, all those years ago and by the sea. She could still hear her father playing his violin as Raoul sneaked her first kiss before running away like the troublesome youth that he was. She'd loved him, yes, but this was different. They were older. She didn't have time for childish romance. She had to think of the future.
Still reluctant to let it go, Christine exhaled through her nose. She would find a way around this. Her Master couldn't watch over her every second of the day, could he? Her hand slipped onto his leg, her fingers ice cold as she struggled to find warmth in the close proximity between them two.

♫ Christine Daaé ♫

Christine opened her eyes slowly, mind attempting to focus on the words of her master while simultaneously feeling the warmth of his leg with her hand. She didn't move, afraid he would reject her if she did. Distantly, she heard his warning, the latest of many. Her Angel, while kind, was very strict and often discouraged her from distractions. Was Raoul a distraction? He was as much of a potential suitor as Meg was, although the elder male might deny it if she said so. There was a part of her mind that was even offended that he would believe her capable of rebelling against him after all this time, after all he had done to raise not only her voice out of the darkness but her soul as well. How could he not trust her by now?

The blanket being tucked around her shivering body reminded the young girl of her place. She glanced up just in time to see him over her. His protectiveness returned her trembling. His scented shadow filled her senses, the familiar rose and ink that alerted her to his presence almost every day in the past five years. Christine felt an urge to close her eyes once more and drink in her fill of the smell she had come to recognize as one of comfort, protection, and a love she had not felt since her father still lived. It was unconditional and all-encompassing, yet there was something different about it. It was not quite the same as her father's, she realized as he settled into his previous position. She had never believed her Angel was her father's spirit, not even as a child, yet had obediently taken his love to be paternal even as her own soared beyond a child's and into that which would belong to a young woman who yearned for a man. Did she dare to believe that he-

Her throat burned as her master encouraged her to rest. She'd had quite a day and needed to let her voice recuperate after that vocalizing she'd done upon entering into his cavern. Nodding, the young woman let her body relax into his side. Her hand drew up his body, fingers trailing lightly along his masculine form. She took care not to press too hard, afraid that if she did, he would disappear into the mist that had carried them away. Christine could feel through his heavy clothing, however, the strength of his body beside her that had lifted her so easily. She stilled as her fingers reached his chest, curling into a loose fist over his heart. "Yes, Master," she whispered into his shoulder, swallowing hard as if to banish all those wicked thoughts back down to the depths of her mind. The young woman closed her eyes once more and drifted off to sleep, content and safe alongside her beautiful Angel of Music.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night passed quickly for Christine, who rested steadily on the large bed that belonged to the Phantom. She protested half-heartedly as he left her side at some point. However, she returned to her slumber as quickly as she had before, curling into the impression he'd left and pulling the blankets ever tighter around her. She dreamt of candles that arose fully lit from lakes, a dark cave with wonders inside, and a mask that haunted her and avoided her touch whenever she tried to reach for it. She chased after the shadow that evaded her capture until it finally spun around to grasp her tightly and pull her down into the darkness once again.

Christine opened her eyes, confused at once by the blurry picture above her. A cave, just like her dream. However, this cave was brightly lit by candles that surrounded her. She slowly sat up, her hand running over her tangled blonde curls as she did so. She stretched her arms above her head as the blurry vision ebbed away with her sleep. Her foggy memory started to clear as her gaze wandered around where she was. Yes, it was indeed a cave. She glanced at the bed she lay upon, the thick blankets and soft pillows that had eased her slumber overnight bringing a soft smile to her face. "I remember there was mist," she sang quietly, the tune reminiscent of one she knew she'd heard the night before. "Swirling mist upon a vast, glassy lake." She lifted the blankets from herself and turned to scoot to the edge of the bed. Her feet, covered only with the sheer fabric of her stockings, touched the ice-cold stone ground. She hissed quietly, pulling them back upwards once before planting them once more on the floor. Christine stood, fingers tightly gripping the cord around her waist to ensure its security before she took another step away from the bed.

"There were candles all around," she whispered, entranced as her dream came to life. The woman reached to brush her fingertips against a large candelabra, the flames of the candles flickering playfully and lighting her way away from the bed and further into the cave. She jolted as a large drop of cold water hit her thigh, looking to her side to find a black lake. Further to the right was a boat that was filled with pillows and had a large stick lay across the side. "And on the lake, there was a boat." There was something missing. She could feel it. Better still, she could feel that she was not alone.

"And in the boat, there was a man."

Somehow, somewhere, she could hear a violin playing as her eyes finally caught him. Her Angel. He was as beautiful as he had been in her dream.

But it had not been a dream. Not at all. She knew this now. He was real, and really here. Close enough to touch.

♫ Christine Daaé ♫

His gaze brought warmth to her that radiated from her toes to her cheeks. They burned under his acknowledgment, as short-lived as it was. She lowered her chin and bit her bottom lip as she smiled despite herself. She was certain that she wasn't acting like the adult that she was, but her younger self was not as entranced by her teacher as she'd grown to become. He was the only person she could rely on after losing her beloved father and as a young girl, she'd desperately needed his support. However, Christine had very recently realized that she was now a woman and no longer viewed him as simply a mentor and protector. Had he noticed it too? Her cheeks grew hot once more at the memory of his hands on her the night before. There was no way. She was not accustomed to dealing with men and whatever came along with their attention, but even Christine knew there was something there.

She stepped further towards him, absent-mindedly wondering where her shoes had disappeared off to as her stockings did very little to protect her from the cold stone floor. He wasn't looking at her now. She continued, slowing as she neared his work station. The young woman peered at his sheet music. The score made some sense to her, having grown up with a violinist had given her useful knowledge in terms of reading music as well as being taught by a great master like hers, yet it was unlike anything she'd ever seen before. She turned on her heel so she was standing behind him. He was so close.

Christine cautiously reached her hands forward, swallowing back the lump in her throat as she did. She caught her breath as they made contact with his shoulders. How was he so warm in such a frozen place? She licked her lips and slid her hands down, fingertips just brushing against his collarbone through his clothes. "Who was that shape in the shadows?" she sang, voice quivering. Her song echoed through the cavern, struggle in her tone as she fought every urge to touch his mask and rid herself of her curiosity for once and for all. "Master?" Christine's movements were heavy with caution as her body pressed close to his, her hair falling in perfumed curls as she bowed her head just enough that her lips were by his ear. "Whose is that face in the mask?" She whispered. With every other word, her lips brushed against his skin. Christine could feel herself trembling. Whether it was from the cold or from touching him, she didn't know.

♫ Christine Daaé ♫

The fire in her belly burned as he touched her hand with his own. She nearly turned her hand to catch his before he pulled it away. Her chest moved in rhythm with his, breathing in and out with only the briefest of hesitation when the cold reminded her of her thin robe and thinner stockings which had, by the miracle of garters, remained snug around her upper thighs through her adventure down to these depths. A short burst of cool air from the lake blew through her, the small amount of skin above the tops of her stockings prickling with goosebumps. The tips of her fingers pressed into his clothing but made no other movements downward.

Her golden curls shifted as her head bowed in acknowledgment of his words. She did not fully understand what he meant by saying she was what would come to be but knew overall what he was saying to her. Her curiosity, although piqued by the presence of the mask, would have to be sated for now. However, her cheekiness would not be stifled. Her breasts pressed against his back and she heaved a heavy sigh into his shoulder. She lifted her head a little, cheek pressed to his jaw. "I do not believe you to be a ghost, Master. A spirit would not be so warm to my touch," she said with a measure of delight hidden behind her words. "Nor do I think I would be able to touch one at all."

Biting back a girlish giggle, her eyes followed his hands down to his work. She had already glanced at it but now wished to examine further. Licking her lips absently, the soprano hummed along with the cello's part for a few measures before stopping in confusion at the lyrics. "You have come here in pursuit of your deepest urge," she sang quietly to the best of her ability as the part was for a lower register. Most of the music her male contemporaries sang remained largely in the same vocal range, but this was something else entirely. It was much more complicated and nothing like she'd ever sung before. She continued to read the part without singing it, having recognized her own limit, and blushed deeply at the eroticism of the music. Even the violins echoed a distinctly sexual desire and the ebbs and flows of fighting and giving it to it. "Oh." Her exhalation did not hide what feelings the score had suddenly left her bare.

Christine was suddenly very aware of how close they were and of how thin her clothing really was. She was certain he could feel every inch of her pressed against his back. The implications that realization brought with it didn't make her feel any less naked and exposed to him. She swallowed hard and cleared her throat before reluctantly sliding her arms away from him and taking a small step back. Her eyes caught his cape nearby and she moved towards it. "May I?" she asked, her back to him in an attempt to hide her scarlet cheeks and the expression she couldn't shake away. "It would be a pity if I developed a cough so soon after my debut." It was a poor endeavor at a joke, especially when paired with a weak laugh, but at least she was trying instead of just standing there awkwardly.