Hello! I can honestly say that I'm a little scared to be posting this, seeing as I've never written/posted PotO fanfiction before, and I know that everyone who has followed/faved me probably hasn't even heard of PotO, meaning that I'm basically starting anew with fans and stuff.

So… I've had this idea for a long time, and I've actually planned out this story somewhat! (Yay!) I hope you guys enjoy, and please leave a review or two!

Oh, and a disclaimer: I don't and never will, own anything or one from the Phantom of the Opera… that all belongs to Gaston Leroux and ALW.

Meg Giry had seen many things in her relatively short lifetime, and had thought that she was prepared for anything.

But watching her mother die of consumption before her eyes was something she could never be prepared for. Madame Giry was currently lying weak on her bed, hacking coughs coming out weak and tired. The doctors had long since gone home, telling the young Giry girl that there was nothing more they could do. They had already resigned themselves to the death of the older woman, something Meg blatantly refused to do.

She'll be fine… Mother will be fine. This is all a dream, just a silly nightmare caused by stress. Yes, the ballet had been more difficult that usual, with the new production of Meyerbeer's Le Claire de Lune and the sudden demand for dancers in the Opera House. And then there was that awful catastrophe of the 'Phantom of the Opera,' that ended with her unfortunate friend Christine's capture and subsequent escape. Immediately after, she had begun planning her wedding with the Vicomte de Chagny, and naturally, she seemed to think that Meg, one of her closest friends, would be a wonderful help with the planning.

So poor Meg had been swamped with an unreasonable amount of work for weeks. Enough work that it was perfectly reasonable that she could have restless nights and unexpected dreams every once in a while.

"Mademoiselle?" The final doctor had exited her mother's room with a tragic expression on his face. "Madame Giry is asking for you."

Just a dream, she repeated in her mind. Just a dream…

But the sweat beading her mother's brow didn't seem like a dream. And the scent of blood and sterile sheets was too real, too lifelike. "Meg…" the woman rasped, "There's something… there's something I need to tell you." Her words were punctuated by a mild fit of coughs, and when she was finished, Mme Giry sunk low into her bed sheets.

"Shh…" Meg urged, pushing her mother down with a gentle hand. Dream or not, she shouldn't be talking.

"Meg-" she said urgently, again. "Do you… do you remember the Opera Ghost? The Phantom?"

Meg nodded slowly. How could she not? It had happened mere months ago, and the memories, of Christine's terrified face, of those strange, red-inked letters, of the warnings, and chandelier, and angry managers, all blurred into one, unforgettable scene in her mind.

"There is something you must know… The Phantom- Erik- He is… He is your father. You are his child."

By now, Mme Giry was breathing heavily; it was a stark and rather concerning contrast to her normal composed self.

No! It wasn't possible. That was it. It simply wasn't possible.

Remember, Meg told herself sternly. Don't get too upset. This is all a dream. All. A. Dream. Caused by overwork. That's it.

"I should've… should have told you sooner. But… I was scared. Scared how you would react. He doesn't- didn't- know…"

Just a dream just a dream just a dream just a dream

She knew that she was panicking. But she told herself that there was no point- it was all a dream.

But as her mother's breathing faded into silence and her grip on Meg's hand faded, she suddenly wasn't so sure about that.

So there you have it. And yes, I know that this is very short. Don't worry, it's a prologue, and it's supposed to be. And don't be driven off by how "predictable" this story is. I promise that there are plenty of things coming up that you (hopefully) haven't seen before.

So did you like it? Reviews, and constructive criticism, are appreciated!