The Royal French Boarding
and
Refinement Academy
The famed Opera Populaire has been reopened with the addition of the Royal French Boarding and Refinement Academy. The Academy is an etiquette school for well born young ladies and
gentlemen. They will be instructed in academic studies as well as the fine arts. They will be taught elegance and grace, language, penmanship, and history. They shall also refine their speech
with many of the voice coaches provided by the Opera Populaire. Their esteemed parents are given choicce of the focal fine art of their choice for their child.
Messieurs André & Firmin
Such was the notice that was sent throughout Europe to any family of moderate wealth. Young women and men were sent from all over the continent to attend such a distinguished
school. Girls and boys as young as four were sent by wayward parents to be taught the ways of the elite, and eligible young men and women were sent in the hopes of improving their
chance of finding a suitable spouse. A year after the reopening of the Opera Populaire with the addition of the Boarding school it was more successful than ever. Productions were
going well, and more lavish luxurious events were possible due to the income from the Academy. Everyone was satisfied in every account.
With one blaring, masked, exception.
...
A throng of warmly dressed girls chattered excitedly outside the magnificent gilded doors of the Opera Populaire. They were watched over with the critical eye of a woman named
Madame Loufaux. As an ornately decorated carriage rounded the cobblestone street she turned to them. "Girls, composure please! You are expected to greet the Comtesse with the
utmost courtesy and poise." The girls bowed their heads and filed into a more organized mass, still sending each other excited smiles and quiet giggles.
As the glorious carriage came to a halt a tall man stepped down to open the door. A silken gloved hand reached out to gently take his. He helped the young woman out of the carriage.
They all took in a slight gasp. Oh the extravagance! Donned in a floor length white fur coat and chocolate brown muff she looked like a Scandinavian goddess. She had translucently
pale hair, so different from the honey blonde found in French girls. Gleaming out from beneath her bashfully lowered brows were eyes the sparkled like Nordic ice. Madame Loufaux
signaled the girls and they all curtsied in unison, "Bonjour Comtesse Di' Birndette."
The young lady blushed prettily and returned the curtsy. "Bonjour," she answered softly, "but please do call me Katiana. I am, after all, to be your companion."
"Such humility! What a charitable and charming young lady!" Madame Loufaux pushed herself forward. "Comtesse, we welcome you, I am Madame Loufaux. I hope you shall find
everything to your liking." She made a deep curtsy.
"Of course, but I truly do not mean to be an inconvenience to anyone."
"Nonsense! It is not often we have a pupil of such caliber attending our academy. No expense shall, or should, be spared."
Katiana's brow furrowed slightly with displeasure. "Madame Loufaux really-"
But the presumptuous woman had already made her way to the coachman, "You there! Assist our doorman with the Comtesse's things! Make haste, we do not allow slothfulness of
our employees!"
The fiercely mustached man glanced at Katiana. She nodded slightly, "It is alright Ivar," she murmured in Swedish, "I will speak with her later; I cannot correct her in front of her
students." Ivar nodded sourly and walked round the carriage.
Madame Loufaux pulled a young girl out from the huddle. "Jeannine, Show the Comtesse to her room." The girl had very babyish looks and could be no more than fourteen.
"Of course Madam; if you would Comtesse?" Jeannine led Katiana through the magnificent doors and into the Opera Populaire.
...
It seemed that Jeannine was also meant to play tour guide. She knew everything about the affairs of the Opera and Academy and every detail about the history of their short union. By
the time they had reached the room Katiana knew of every business transaction and production that had taken place within the past year. "This is the Prima Donna's room. It is usually
kept for our resident leading soprano."
"Where is she rooming is she does not reside here? Do tell me I have not taken her courters!"
"To tell you the truth Comtesse I do not think it wise to say." Jeannine looked somewhat torn.
"Divulge in me, I would not tell anyone that which could cause you ill."
"Of course I am to do first that which the Comtesse asks. The truth is we have had trouble keeping our leading sopranos. Have you been informed on the strange affair of the Phantom
of the Opera?"
"Indeed the stories of him are well known, even as far as Sweden."
"Yes but what is regarded to those outside the opera as stories are considered a reality to those within it. The Phantom is no story Comtesse. He is a very real threat, and our
sopranos know this. Whenever the slightest mishap occurs they view it as the Phantom's invite to move on and out, an invitation which all have wisely accepted thus far." Jeannine
looked at Katiana with the utmost intensity, searching for any disbelief.
But Katiana did believe. The earnest in the girl's voice combined with the history of the place led to no other possibility. She laughed softly, "I am no opera singer or even a soprano at
that, so I fear your Phantom shall find me frightfully boring."
Jeannine smiled in return, "Forgive my boldness Comtesse, but I doubt anyone could find you boring."
"Thank you for the compliment, and thank you for the tour also." Jeannine curtsied and turned to walk down the hall. "Jeannine," the girl stopped, "I truly did intend what I said.
Please, call me Katiana. Comtesse is my mother; I am only twenty after all." She smiled encouragingly when Jeannine nodded, then finally walked into the Prima Donna's courters.
She was pleasantly surprised to find them decorated in the old oriental style of Russian. Her mother was Russian and she had always loved the colors and patterns of the older
fashion. She moved to the love seat and removed her fur which was becoming dreadfully hot within the warmth of the room. As she explored the cavernous state of her new home she
realized that the suite was not simply a bedroom, but included a powder and dressing room. The dressing room had a boudoir, bath, and a lattice dressing screens. In the powder
room she found the source of the heat, a large fireplace was bordered by several bookcases. A couch, coffee table, and armchairs made a cozy place to read said literature. The
bedroom itself was beautiful with a lovely piano, its own collection of books, and a large fascinatingly ornate floor-length mirror.
Katiana heard a knock at the door. Two hard raps, then one soft. "Come in Ivar." The burly man made his way through the door carrying two bags, quickly followed by a much smaller
man carrying two more. "Thank you gentlemen, I am sorry Monsieur, I have not made your acquaintance." She offered her hand.
The door man kissed it lightly, "I am Ansell if it pleases the Comtesse. Please let me know if you need anything at all." He kissed her hand again and made his way swiftly out of the
room.
Katiana sighed and sat on the loveseat. She smiled wearily up at Ivar, "Well my quiet friend, it seems as if we must be resigned with our situation." Ivar snorted in disdain. "I may be in
consensus with that sentiment but it is more becoming to have a positive outlook. You might have avoided this fate yourself if you had allowed me to come alone as I wished." He
glared at her with withering incredulity. Katiana knew well that Ivar would rather die than not be there to protect her. Ivar was Russian, a soldier at one time. He had been a young
guard appointed to protect her mother in her crossing to Sweden. He had stayed in Sweden and served in his self appointed position as armament for her father before his passing. He
had once said that before her father had left the world he swore an oath to him that he would live to protect her, until death if necessary. Katiana knew he had intended to keep that
oath, and that it made him fiercely over-protective. Even so, it was comforting to know her near-constant companion of ten years was here with her. Looking back at the guard she
asked, "Ivar have I done the right thing? Is this the right place for me?"
"It is not my place to voice opinion, Milady."
"And yet you so often do, please be frank with me."
"With the most frankness then Milady, it was your esteemed mother's choice, not yours nor mine which brings us to this wretched place."
"Oh Ivar, Paris is not wretched. You know it is beautiful."
"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder Milady, and is consequently disputable." Ivar stiffened suddenly and wrenched the door open.
A terrified maid stood with a basket, one fist was raised ready to knock. "State your business!" Ivar roared in broken French. The maid was now quaking, she spluttered trying to
formulate a comprehendible sentence. "Well?"
Katiana nudged herself in between the two, pushing Ivar away. "I do apologize for my overzealous friend. Is there something you need?"
"Madame Loufaux sent me Comtesse. She said I was to assist you in dressing, we are to have tea in an hour."
"I shall dress myself, but if you would be as kind as to draw bathwater I would much appreciate it." The maid nodded and squeezed past Ivar and hurriedly ran into the dressing room.
"And you," she poked Ivar, "shall be kind. Now go, I do not need protection from this mousy little maid, you have terrified her sufficiently."
Katiana let the bath relax her, the journey had indeed taken a long time and it was glorious to take a moment of time for leisure. She reached for her robe and climbed out of the tub.
Walking back into the bedroom to fetch an outfit for tea Katiana found that the maid, terrified as she may have been, had put away and arranged all of her clothing. Pulling out the
appropriate undergarments Katiana chose a simple white lace tea dress. It might have been a bit light for the weather, but she would bring along a cloak.
Katiana began to undress when she was overcome with the eerie sensation that she was not alone. Her gaze was drawn towards the mirror. She took a tentative step back before
she laughed weakly. "All these stories make my imagination run wild. I am of no concern to the Phantom." Nevertheless she gathered her things and went to change in the dressing
room.
...
Katiana returned from tea properly exhausted and promptly laid down to rest, not caring if dressed became mussed. The afternoon had been filled with all the pleasantries and niceties
that were to be expected, of which Katiana so often found arduous. Even so, such conversation had been bred into her and the evening had passed without event.
Katiana slept restlessly throughout the early night, dreams plaguing her slumber. It was not until the small hours of the morning that she heard the ghostly voice.
In the state between sleeping and waking Katiana could not discern between dream and reality. An ethereal fog invaded her mind. The haunting song was like that of a sirens call, and
as alluring as such.
An interesting toy indeed
Be warned of those who weave the tangled web
Lest you never wake
And find that you've wound up dead
What can it be
What is it that tortures your mind?
What can it be
That has brought you to me?
In a transfixed state Katiana rose out of bed and walked to the mirror. In the reflection she could not see herself, only a flickering flame. She drew nearer and the flame grew, pulsing
with every note. The enchanting melody seemed to come from the very core of the flame. Dazed, Katiana reached out to touch it, somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered if it
would burn.
Gradually she realized it was not just the song pulling her in; she felt an iron grip on her wrist that was physically dragging her into the mirror. Suddenly panicked Katiana drew back,
struggling against the invisible force. When she felt the grip tighten and draw her closer to the flames she screamed. A face appeared, half of it masked in expressionless indifference,
the other twisted in annoyance.
All at once, the melody, the man and the flame all disappeared. Katiana fell to the floor and was left staring at her own terrified reflection. She slowly registered Ivar shaking her
shoulders. "Katiana, Milady! Milady what has happened?" She sank into the man's wide frame and started sobbing. He held her quaking body and shushed her just like he had when
she was a child mourning the death of her father. "Hush hush now little shvibzik, shush. Tell me what happened? Was it one of the nightmares again?"
Katiana looked up at her guard, a nightmare? They were not uncommon for her; could it have been a nightmare? "Yes, yes I suppose it must have been. All these tales of the Phantom
have made my mind run wild. I'm sorry to have woken you Ivar."
"Never apologize for such Milady. Lord knows these nightmares are no fault of yours."
"Good night Ivar," Katiana rose and walked her friend to the door. Once Ivar had left Katiana grabbed her dressing gown. She quickly stepped behind a dressing screen and changed
out of her day dress. She knew sleep would not return so to change into a nightgown would be pointless. All the while she was dressing she was unconsciously humming the beautiful
yet disturbing melody. When she realized what she was doing her stomach clenched unpleasantly. She must be careful not to sing such song, lest it prove to summon its creator. She
still had trouble convincing herself that it had only been a nightmare. Especially while her wrist throbbed and began to turn purple.
...
AN: Sorry to any of you who are reading my other story Echos From Persia. I had this in my head for a while and did so much research and stuff for it that I HAD to write at least the beginning and see what people thought. I'm trying a bit of a different writing style this time. So tell me what y'all think! R&R!! PS. none of the songs are mine unless i say they are. I own none of the original characters yadahdahdah blahblahblah, that's kinda like "well duh" right?