Work Text:
The marvelous First Order Opera House had once been a place of splendor, of joy, and of love. Now it lay in rubble and ash. The only remaining thing was a distant recording of a song, a distant memory of an organ’s tune, and a Phantom.
30 Years Before
Young Armitage Hux was a nobody in the opera, just a nameless ensemble member in the latest of the shows. The star tenor, Moff Tarkin, was astounding, but had become a rather drab watch, in his opinion, as he forced the director Snoke to put on repeat after repeat of his old favorites with no originality or change in cast, thus keeping himself at the center.
He had dreamed each night of a voice, singing to him, calling him perfect, calling him worthy. An Angel. His best friend and fellow ensemble, alto/mezzo Phasma, questioned him when they were cleaning up on stage.
“How do you know it’s not mold, or fungus? Our dressing rooms are dirty enough,” she said.
“He’s an angel,” Hux argued, “my father was a devil, it only suits me that now that I’m an adult the guidance is a holy one.”
With a scoff, Phasma dismissed him.
She didn’t laugh when Tarkin stormed off the set after Snoke’s dismissal of him, saying “Get another star!”, nor did she laugh when Hux was picked, seemingly by the grace of God, to sing for the part of The General in the latest show - the leading man. Shedding the costume of the ensemble and heading into the spotlight where he belonged felt marvelous.
Opening night was a marvelous success, and he received batches and batches of flowers which made him feel like he finally belonged. But still, it wasn’t enough. He needed his angel’s approval.
“Angel, please come to me. Speak and I’ll listen. Enter at last, master,” he begged, hoping for guidance from the one who had always been there for him.
“Flattering one… you shall know me. See why in shadow I hide. Look at your face in the mirror - I am there inside!”
With a start, Hux saw a masked, cloaked man inside his mirror, offering his hand.
“I am your Angel of Music. Come to me, Angel…”
As if hypnotized, Hux walked forward and took the man’s hand, and was guided into a realm beyond his imagination, never to return to the evil light of reality.
30 Years Later
“Madame Leia,” one man whispered, “you were the teacher of the chorus, were you not? Can you tell us about the Phantom?”
“He was my son,” the woman explained, sitting over his empty grave with a single rose, “and was terribly scarred in an accident. I kept him in the basement of the opera house, trying to raise him without judgment or evil. But he became the monster I had tried to stop the creation of because of my actions, and he ultimately led our star tenor to his death in that labyrinth."
“But the bodies were never found,” another pointed out.
“The opera burned down,” she said simply, “how could either of them have survived?”