A/N – Hi everyone. So this is my first Phanfiction, so this is what I will do: I am posting this prologue to my Meg/Erik story. If you think I should continue, please review/message me/let me know. I do not like to continue something if it does not get a good response. I respect all the readers of this piece as my superiors, as I am new to fan fiction. So if it's not working, please tell me.

Okay, here goes.

Prologue – Little Meg

He had always been there. Ever since little Meg Giry could remember.

Why did everyone insist on calling her "little"? Perhaps because she was the most petite of the dancers; or perhaps everyone thought she was as innocent as a child. But they didn't know. No one knew, except Meg and her mother, what, or rather, who, lurked in the shadows of the Opera Populaire.

She had first laid eyes on him when she was about eleven years old. Observant as ever, Meg had noticed her mother slip away from the ballet lessons she taught the future stage troupe. The curious creature that she was, Meg followed her mother, careful not to let her footsteps fall too loudly. Madame Giry went to her private quarters, shifted her bed away from the wall, and pulled open a hidden door in the floor. Meg waited a few moments before she did exactly as her mother had done.

A ladder waited for her after she opened the door in the floor. Looking around carefully to see that she was indeed alone, Meg descended the ladder; but when she reached the bottom, she realized she had a choice to make. The tunnel wound two ways, to her left and straight ahead. She stood still for a second, listening for a clue as to which way to go. And she was not disappointed. From the tunnel to her left, she could hear the faint notes of an organ, playing a sullen tune. Meg headed for the organ.

It took her a few minutes, but finally, she reached a cave. But it was unlike any cave she'd ever seen in books. This grotto was furnished with candelabras everywhere, with curtains and mirrors lining the cave walls. A shallow lake separated her from what she suspected was the living area. Across it, she saw a desk, with drawings scattered all over the place. A few feet away, she saw the organ that had been played not moments ago. But there was no one there now.

Suddenly, she saw movement out of the corner of her right eye. Although a curtain was drawn, she could see through the thin fabric. What she saw astounded her: it was a man, about the age of her mother, preparing himself for a good night's rest. She watched him as he removed his boots and turned to his bed, in the shape of a swan. Meg drew in a sharp, but thankfully silent, gasp. The right side of his face was turned towards Meg, and she almost cried in horror.

His skin was shriveled extensively, and severely scarred from his eye to his lower cheek. Furthermore, Meg could swear that some of his tissue was exposed, the hair at the top of his head very thin. Meg tried her best not to cry, for she was quite shaken. As she attempted to calm herself, Meg felt a warm hand on her shoulder. She looked behind her to see her mother, with a sympathetic look on her face, and one finger over her lips. Madame Giry took her young daughter's hand in her own and led her back to the ladder and trap door in mutual silence. Meg was far too shaken to say anything anyhow.

Once back in her mother's room, Meg found her voice.

"Maman, what is wrong with him?" she wanted to know. Meg's curiosity was more furious than ever. She had to know just who this man was.

"Shh. Be still, my dear," her mother cooed. "That man is very strange, but he is a good person. He lives down where no one can see him. Do you know why?"

Meg nodded slowly. "He is not like others, is he?"

"That's right, my dear. I have been helping him for some time now, keeping him out of trouble and away from those who would hurt him. You must now do the same, Meg."

"But what can I do?" Meg inquired. "How can I help him?"

"We must keep his secret. You saw his face. You don't want anyone to hurt him, do you?" Madame knew she was asking a lot of her daughter, but now that she had seen him, there was no going back. "This opera house is the only home he has ever known. We mustn't let anyone know he is here. Do you understand?"

"Yes Maman." Meg understood the man. The opera house was her home too. She wouldn't know what to do if she wasn't here, dancing her days away.

And for eight years, she kept her promise. While dancing her way to the ballet chorus, she kept the man's secret. She hadn't laid eyes on him since that day, but she kept her mouth shut just the same.

It hadn't been easy though. In the last few years, he had become bolder, escaping from his underground home to spy on the rehearsals at the opera house. Meg had begun to hear stories from the stagehands, swearing they had seen a man in the rafters, watching the dancing girls from above. Her mother had taken care of these tales, though, turning them into ghost stories of the Phantom of the Opera.

But along with this title, the man seemed to grow even bolder, playing tricks on the actors, and even demanding a salary from the manager, Monsieur LeFevre. But Meg had made a promise. No matter how outrageous she thought his actions, she played her part quite well. The day everyone was introduced to the new managers, Andre and Firmin, the "Phantom" decided to give them his own welcome, with a scenic backdrop landing on their star, La Carlotta. That was Meg's cue…

"He's here. The Phantom of the Opera…"

Okay! Let me know what you guys think.