Title: A Grand Illusion
Fandom: Phantom of the Opera, no real specific version in my mind so feel free to imagine your own if you like
Characters: Christine/Raoul, OCs (if you really hate his name, please don't take it out on me! There is a reason he has it.)
Chapters: 1/8 + epilogue
Rating: K+
Warnings: None for early chapters, twists and kidnapping later but no violence
A/N: This story is fairly short, each chapter quite brief so I'll post up one a day most likely. I hope you enjoy it. Oh, and I hereby disclaim this. Phantom of the Opera isn't mine. Madeline and Donatien are though so please don't nick them.
The little girl laughed happily and clapped her hands.
"Again, again!"
Crouching on the ground in front of her was a young man with long ruddy brown hair, tied back loosely at the top of his neck. In his long fingered hands he held a small red ball and as the girl watched, awestruck, he moved the ball from one hand to the next and poof! It disappeared!
She fell about laughing.
"That is a marvellous trick," her mother commented. The youth stood up and bowed to her, grinning a very mischievous and sultry grin. It seemed out of place on his young face. Like he should have been too young and too naïve to carry such a grin. And yet, there it was. It made the woman, one Christine de Chagny, just a touch uncomfortable. Nonetheless, she offered a polite smile back.
"Good day."
"Good day, Madame." He held out a hand and introduced himself. "I am Donatien Leroux."
She took his offered hand and let him kiss her knuckles. He actually did go so far as to press his lips against her skin and it surprised her, again making her wonder where he got the audacity from.
"A pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Leroux. How long have you been working here?"
"Here, Madame? Oh, only a few weeks."
"And you are the stableboy?"
"For now," he chuckled.
The little girl, Madeline, had run off to see her new pony that her father, ever spoiling her, had recently bought. Christine smiled at her fondly and the young man put the little red ball back in his pocket.
"She is a beautiful child, Madame; if you don't mind my saying so."
"Yes. She is."
"Does she often like magic tricks?"
The lady laughed.
"Oh, yes! What child doesn't? Do you know many, young man?"
Donatien nodded, and again he had that grin. A cheeky, knowing grin.
"I am training to be a master of illusion, Madame," he explained softly. "A magician, if you will."
"Ah," she chuckled, a little condescendingly, though she didn't mean it that way really. "I suppose that is why you will only be with us a little while, yes?"
"Something like that, Madame."
"And who are you training under, if it isn't a rude question to ask of a future master of illusion?"
"Of course not, Madame. I am learning from my father. He has taught me many tricks. Many illusions."
"How lovely, to share that with your father."
"Did you learn to sing from your father, Madame?" he asked her.
Christine's smile dropped away.
"That was rather impertinent, young man."
The youth nodded, suitably chastised, and took a step back, further into the stables where his duties awaited him.
"As you say. My apologies, Madame."
"Never mind. Off with you."