Author: Azelma
Rating: PG-13 at the moment.
Summary: In 1874 there was born a child who would have a singular effect on many in the great city of Paris. In a story of lust, desire, betrayal, and angst the truth is brought to light about the one they called the sparkling diamond…….
Feedback: Reviews will be treasured, constructive criticism will be taken into consideration, and flames will be used to cook my dinner :grins:
Disclaimer: The story and characters of Moulin Rouge belong to Baz and Co. which was most likely taken from the following two stories: La Dame Aux Camélias by Alexandre Dumas fils, and the Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice.
A/N: For reference, I am not an expert on France, nor am I an expert of that specific time period. What I know has come from the various other books from the time period I have read. I expect this to be a very long story, and knowing me, the chapters shall be long as well. This story was actually started way back when Moulin Rouge came out on DVD, and I just haven't got around to posting it. Ever since I saw the movie I've always wondered why Satine was so afraid to fall in love. So, having a couple of years to think about it, discard it, and then eventually come back to it, I have finally started to write my vision of Satine's past, starting at childhood and going until she meets Christian, perhaps even until she dies. Any citations shall be made at the end. Enjoy!
Passing Glimmers
Prologue - 1 January 1901
Ama me fideliter, Fidem meam noto,
Decorde totaliter, Et ex mente tota,
Sum presentialiter, Absens in remota.
Paris is a beautiful city, no doubt one of the most beautiful in the entire world. But none will argue when they say that the best time to visit Paris is in the winter. The city is especially breath taking in the midst of winter, blanketed in soft sheets of white silk. With roofs heavily covered, threatening to cave in on their inhabitants, and the streets white and untouched, a quaint scene is formed before ones eyes.
At the end of the eighteenth century and the beginning of the nineteenth, those streets were covered with restless people, all of which had a story to tell. Now they were as empty as the city itself. Even more empty was the village outside it, Montmartre.
Montmartre was the village of sin, the devil's liar, and eternal damnation for all those who entered. In truth, Montmartre was no more than a place for the Bohemians to spread their love for the arts. In the middle of this village was the towering windmill, the infamous bordello and the center of Bohemian life, Le Moulin Rouge.
The once vivacious building was now deserted. Cobwebs hung in the doorway and on the wings of the windmill. In various places paint was faded and peeling, leaving dull red chips on the ground. To be blunt, it was a disgrace. If any of the previous occupants of Montmartre had happened to glance at the windmill, they would turn their head in either grief or dismay.
It was this scene that met the eyes of the girl who appeared suddenly on the deserted street. She had appeared so suddenly that had anyone else been there, they would have sworn she was a phantom. A small hand, covered by a dark glove, traced over the weather worn wood of the windmill. Had you been close to her, you would have seen a mixture of remorse and pity upon her face.
She sighed once, and drawing her brown cloak around her, she turned her back on the Moulin Rouge. She let her gaze wander to the building that was now in her view. It was one of those building which were designed for the last century and not for the present one. Great red lettering covered the side of it, reading L'amour, and beneath that was the only room in the entire building that seemed occupied. There was a faint light coming from within, but other than that, nothing else was visible. The shutters were closed, and the small balcony outside lay covered with snow.
As the girl watched this room, she could dimly see a figure walking around. Taking a deep breath, she made her way to the front of the building, and proceeded to climb the stairs. The stairs were littered with dust, which rose as she softly made her ways up them. The adjacent room had been locked up and boarded, their occupants long gone. The only room still in use, the one that she had watched outside, stood at the end of the hall. Walking towards it, the girl steadied her breathing and smoothed the wrinkled in her clothing. She knocked softly.
Receiving no answer after a few minutes, she carefully pushed open the door.
Softly she whispered, "Monsieur James?"
A gruff voice answered her, the speaker unseen. "Who's there? I do not wish to see any---" he stop short as he came into the girl's view. His blue eyes widened and his mouth remained partly opened as he gazed at the girl in the doorway. He stepped forwards and managed to choke out only one word.
"Satine?"
The girl stepped forwards about to say something, then stopped. She looked away for a moment, closing her eyes.
"No. I'm not Satine."
"Oh." The man averted his eyes, somewhat ashamed. "You look just like her except that you have grey eyes. I thought for a moment that you must be her. But that's foolish, she's dead, why would she be here?" He paused as he realized he was rambling and looked over at the girl curiously. "Who exactly are you?"
"My name is Mariette Baudet. I am Satine's sister." She paused as she let her grey eyes search his blue. "I presume you are Christian James?"
She shrugged off the cloak she was wearing, allowing a mass of rust colored curls to fall onto her shoulders. She folded the material and laid it upon the nearest table, her hat and gloves on top of it. She slowly allowed her gaze to wander around the room, taking in every aspect of it, while brushing dust off of her black dress.
As she did so, the man before her studied her intently. He found himself in awe of her; she looked so much like his Satine, but that was of course due to the fact that she was her sister. He didn't even know that Satine had a sister. The only noticeable difference between them was her eyes, they were the color of steel while Satine's had been a brilliant blue. Realizing he had been holding his breath, he let it out slowly as she turned back towards him.
"Monsieur, I am here on behalf of a letter I received a year ago concerning both you and my sister." Christian looked at her sharply, but she held up her hand silencing him before he could make an exclamation. "It was written by Satine. Monsieur James, it seems....."
"Please," he said interrupting her, "Call me Christian."
Mariette smiled softly, "Well then, Christian, I come on behalf of Satine. Tell me, how long did you know her for?"
"A couple months" he said slowly. "Why do you ask?"
"And did she ever tell you anything of her past?"
Christian shook his head. "Only that she had loved another man before and that she had renounced him after he had cheated on her."
Mariette raised an eyebrow. "Did she now?" Then, more to herself than to him, she whispered, "Ah well, it seems you have tried to make yourself believe it never happened, have you Satine? You foolish girl." She shook her head sadly.
She rose from her seat and moved over to her coat. A faint rustling met his ears and he peered over at her curiously. Returning, she held a crumpled piece of paper in her hand, which she held out to him.
"Here. It's the letter she wrote me. It's the last time I heard from her."
Christian took the letter, dated the 27 of December 1899, and glanced down at it.
My Dear Mariette,
I begin this letter knowing that it will be my last. I have not written you in many years now for fear that you would ignore my letters or send someone after me. It was foolish, I know you would not betray my secrets, but I could not help fearing it all the same. Mari, so many years have passed and you have missed so much. I fear that there are not enough words to convey all that has happened. But let me start with the good and end with the bad.
Mari, something wonderful has happened. I am in love. He is beautiful and talented, and above all, he loves me for who I am and not for my body. His name is Christian James and I wish to spend the rest of my life with him. There is so much I wish to write, but alas, I have limited time and there are not enough words to convey what I am feeling. If only you could see how happy he makes me.
Oh Mari, I wish you could meet him, he is wonderful and I'm sure you would adore him. Unfortunately there is a slight problem. I cannot go into detail at the moment, but in short, if Christian does not leave, he will be killed. I have brought this upon myself, I have played the harlot for far too long and finally God has punished me.
To make matters worse I am dying; I have consumption. I don't know how long I have left. I shouldn't even be writing to you, I am forbidden to do so as it takes too much out of me. Lord Mariette! I'm not yet six and twenty and I'm already dying. What has my life become? I am ashamed of myself Mari, and I beg you now to forgive me of all my former sins. Those that went unnoticed in my mind back then have long been plaguing me and I wish for your pardon.
My dear sister, I have little time left in this world. When I die, there is no doubt that Christian will be in mourning for some time, longer than is healthy for him. All I ask is that you pay him a visit and tell him of me, and by that I mean my past. Every part, the good and the bad, he needs to know.
I pray you and the rest are in good health. Send my regards.
Your loving sister,
Satine
Christian's hands trembled as he folded the letter in half and handed it back to Mariette. Neither spoke for a moment and Christian shifted uncomfortably.
"You fell in love with a fool, you know." Mariette spoke up suddenly, "She may have been my sister and I may have loved her deeply, but in the end she was nothing more than a beautiful little fool."
Christian looked up sharply, his voice quavering. "Take it back, she was not a fool. She was brilliant, and beautiful, and--"
Mariette raised an eyebrow amusedly as he faltered. "The best thing a girl can be in this world is a beautiful little fool. Don't defend what you don't know Christian."
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He shrugged helplessly and slid into a chair. He motioned for her to sit, and once she was situated he asked her to explain herself.
Mariette sighed deeply and looked away, contemplating on how to begin. She turned back to Christian, and smiled upon finding him scrutinizing her every move. She softly laid a hand upon his arm and met his gaze.
Slowly, as if she were revealing a secret kept hidden for years, Mariette began to speak of the mysterious years Satine had never talked about, finally allowing Christian to see into Satine's past.
A/N
- The title, Passing Glimmers, is actually a chapter title in my beloved novel, Les Misérables by Victor Hugo, and can be found in Section V, Book I, Chapter XIII (or for those lazy people, around page 1210).
- Ama me fideliter…… Absens in remota is Latin for:
Love me faithfully, See how I am faithful,
With all my Heart, and all my Soul,
I am with you, even though I am far away
-I am not completely sure on Satine and Christian's eye colors, I know it's terrible, but the lighting in the movie makes them change and I was too frustrated to figure it out, so correct me if I'm wrong.
- "The best thing a girl can be in this world is a beautiful little fool." comes from The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald.
- May I also note that this story is Satine's story as well as Mariette's, as the latter is telling the story.
The next chapter will be longer, I just hate beginning stories, so that's the reason for a short prologue.
Again, if anything's wrong relating to the history, grammar, or story please leave me a nice comment saying so. I read all comments, and can take criticism, so feel free to write whatever you wish. A comment is a comment! ;)
Rating: PG-13 at the moment.
Summary: In 1874 there was born a child who would have a singular effect on many in the great city of Paris. In a story of lust, desire, betrayal, and angst the truth is brought to light about the one they called the sparkling diamond…….
Feedback: Reviews will be treasured, constructive criticism will be taken into consideration, and flames will be used to cook my dinner :grins:
Disclaimer: The story and characters of Moulin Rouge belong to Baz and Co. which was most likely taken from the following two stories: La Dame Aux Camélias by Alexandre Dumas fils, and the Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice.
A/N: For reference, I am not an expert on France, nor am I an expert of that specific time period. What I know has come from the various other books from the time period I have read. I expect this to be a very long story, and knowing me, the chapters shall be long as well. This story was actually started way back when Moulin Rouge came out on DVD, and I just haven't got around to posting it. Ever since I saw the movie I've always wondered why Satine was so afraid to fall in love. So, having a couple of years to think about it, discard it, and then eventually come back to it, I have finally started to write my vision of Satine's past, starting at childhood and going until she meets Christian, perhaps even until she dies. Any citations shall be made at the end. Enjoy!
Ama me fideliter, Fidem meam noto,
Decorde totaliter, Et ex mente tota,
Sum presentialiter, Absens in remota.
Paris is a beautiful city, no doubt one of the most beautiful in the entire world. But none will argue when they say that the best time to visit Paris is in the winter. The city is especially breath taking in the midst of winter, blanketed in soft sheets of white silk. With roofs heavily covered, threatening to cave in on their inhabitants, and the streets white and untouched, a quaint scene is formed before ones eyes.
At the end of the eighteenth century and the beginning of the nineteenth, those streets were covered with restless people, all of which had a story to tell. Now they were as empty as the city itself. Even more empty was the village outside it, Montmartre.
Montmartre was the village of sin, the devil's liar, and eternal damnation for all those who entered. In truth, Montmartre was no more than a place for the Bohemians to spread their love for the arts. In the middle of this village was the towering windmill, the infamous bordello and the center of Bohemian life, Le Moulin Rouge.
The once vivacious building was now deserted. Cobwebs hung in the doorway and on the wings of the windmill. In various places paint was faded and peeling, leaving dull red chips on the ground. To be blunt, it was a disgrace. If any of the previous occupants of Montmartre had happened to glance at the windmill, they would turn their head in either grief or dismay.
It was this scene that met the eyes of the girl who appeared suddenly on the deserted street. She had appeared so suddenly that had anyone else been there, they would have sworn she was a phantom. A small hand, covered by a dark glove, traced over the weather worn wood of the windmill. Had you been close to her, you would have seen a mixture of remorse and pity upon her face.
She sighed once, and drawing her brown cloak around her, she turned her back on the Moulin Rouge. She let her gaze wander to the building that was now in her view. It was one of those building which were designed for the last century and not for the present one. Great red lettering covered the side of it, reading L'amour, and beneath that was the only room in the entire building that seemed occupied. There was a faint light coming from within, but other than that, nothing else was visible. The shutters were closed, and the small balcony outside lay covered with snow.
As the girl watched this room, she could dimly see a figure walking around. Taking a deep breath, she made her way to the front of the building, and proceeded to climb the stairs. The stairs were littered with dust, which rose as she softly made her ways up them. The adjacent room had been locked up and boarded, their occupants long gone. The only room still in use, the one that she had watched outside, stood at the end of the hall. Walking towards it, the girl steadied her breathing and smoothed the wrinkled in her clothing. She knocked softly.
Receiving no answer after a few minutes, she carefully pushed open the door.
Softly she whispered, "Monsieur James?"
A gruff voice answered her, the speaker unseen. "Who's there? I do not wish to see any---" he stop short as he came into the girl's view. His blue eyes widened and his mouth remained partly opened as he gazed at the girl in the doorway. He stepped forwards and managed to choke out only one word.
"Satine?"
The girl stepped forwards about to say something, then stopped. She looked away for a moment, closing her eyes.
"No. I'm not Satine."
"Oh." The man averted his eyes, somewhat ashamed. "You look just like her except that you have grey eyes. I thought for a moment that you must be her. But that's foolish, she's dead, why would she be here?" He paused as he realized he was rambling and looked over at the girl curiously. "Who exactly are you?"
"My name is Mariette Baudet. I am Satine's sister." She paused as she let her grey eyes search his blue. "I presume you are Christian James?"
She shrugged off the cloak she was wearing, allowing a mass of rust colored curls to fall onto her shoulders. She folded the material and laid it upon the nearest table, her hat and gloves on top of it. She slowly allowed her gaze to wander around the room, taking in every aspect of it, while brushing dust off of her black dress.
As she did so, the man before her studied her intently. He found himself in awe of her; she looked so much like his Satine, but that was of course due to the fact that she was her sister. He didn't even know that Satine had a sister. The only noticeable difference between them was her eyes, they were the color of steel while Satine's had been a brilliant blue. Realizing he had been holding his breath, he let it out slowly as she turned back towards him.
"Monsieur, I am here on behalf of a letter I received a year ago concerning both you and my sister." Christian looked at her sharply, but she held up her hand silencing him before he could make an exclamation. "It was written by Satine. Monsieur James, it seems....."
"Please," he said interrupting her, "Call me Christian."
Mariette smiled softly, "Well then, Christian, I come on behalf of Satine. Tell me, how long did you know her for?"
"A couple months" he said slowly. "Why do you ask?"
"And did she ever tell you anything of her past?"
Christian shook his head. "Only that she had loved another man before and that she had renounced him after he had cheated on her."
Mariette raised an eyebrow. "Did she now?" Then, more to herself than to him, she whispered, "Ah well, it seems you have tried to make yourself believe it never happened, have you Satine? You foolish girl." She shook her head sadly.
She rose from her seat and moved over to her coat. A faint rustling met his ears and he peered over at her curiously. Returning, she held a crumpled piece of paper in her hand, which she held out to him.
"Here. It's the letter she wrote me. It's the last time I heard from her."
Christian took the letter, dated the 27 of December 1899, and glanced down at it.
My Dear Mariette,
I begin this letter knowing that it will be my last. I have not written you in many years now for fear that you would ignore my letters or send someone after me. It was foolish, I know you would not betray my secrets, but I could not help fearing it all the same. Mari, so many years have passed and you have missed so much. I fear that there are not enough words to convey all that has happened. But let me start with the good and end with the bad.
Mari, something wonderful has happened. I am in love. He is beautiful and talented, and above all, he loves me for who I am and not for my body. His name is Christian James and I wish to spend the rest of my life with him. There is so much I wish to write, but alas, I have limited time and there are not enough words to convey what I am feeling. If only you could see how happy he makes me.
Oh Mari, I wish you could meet him, he is wonderful and I'm sure you would adore him. Unfortunately there is a slight problem. I cannot go into detail at the moment, but in short, if Christian does not leave, he will be killed. I have brought this upon myself, I have played the harlot for far too long and finally God has punished me.
To make matters worse I am dying; I have consumption. I don't know how long I have left. I shouldn't even be writing to you, I am forbidden to do so as it takes too much out of me. Lord Mariette! I'm not yet six and twenty and I'm already dying. What has my life become? I am ashamed of myself Mari, and I beg you now to forgive me of all my former sins. Those that went unnoticed in my mind back then have long been plaguing me and I wish for your pardon.
My dear sister, I have little time left in this world. When I die, there is no doubt that Christian will be in mourning for some time, longer than is healthy for him. All I ask is that you pay him a visit and tell him of me, and by that I mean my past. Every part, the good and the bad, he needs to know.
I pray you and the rest are in good health. Send my regards.
Your loving sister,
Satine
Christian's hands trembled as he folded the letter in half and handed it back to Mariette. Neither spoke for a moment and Christian shifted uncomfortably.
"You fell in love with a fool, you know." Mariette spoke up suddenly, "She may have been my sister and I may have loved her deeply, but in the end she was nothing more than a beautiful little fool."
Christian looked up sharply, his voice quavering. "Take it back, she was not a fool. She was brilliant, and beautiful, and--"
Mariette raised an eyebrow amusedly as he faltered. "The best thing a girl can be in this world is a beautiful little fool. Don't defend what you don't know Christian."
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He shrugged helplessly and slid into a chair. He motioned for her to sit, and once she was situated he asked her to explain herself.
Mariette sighed deeply and looked away, contemplating on how to begin. She turned back to Christian, and smiled upon finding him scrutinizing her every move. She softly laid a hand upon his arm and met his gaze.
Slowly, as if she were revealing a secret kept hidden for years, Mariette began to speak of the mysterious years Satine had never talked about, finally allowing Christian to see into Satine's past.
A/N
- The title, Passing Glimmers, is actually a chapter title in my beloved novel, Les Misérables by Victor Hugo, and can be found in Section V, Book I, Chapter XIII (or for those lazy people, around page 1210).
- Ama me fideliter…… Absens in remota is Latin for:
Love me faithfully, See how I am faithful,
With all my Heart, and all my Soul,
I am with you, even though I am far away
-I am not completely sure on Satine and Christian's eye colors, I know it's terrible, but the lighting in the movie makes them change and I was too frustrated to figure it out, so correct me if I'm wrong.
- "The best thing a girl can be in this world is a beautiful little fool." comes from The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald.
- May I also note that this story is Satine's story as well as Mariette's, as the latter is telling the story.
The next chapter will be longer, I just hate beginning stories, so that's the reason for a short prologue.
Again, if anything's wrong relating to the history, grammar, or story please leave me a nice comment saying so. I read all comments, and can take criticism, so feel free to write whatever you wish. A comment is a comment! ;)