Love Never Dies

Wow I didn't expect such a cool reaction. Thanks!

Ok Act II. Enjoy!


Act II: Beautiful

Christabelle

I rushed offstage, the exhilaration of finally performing onstage singing in my veins.

It felt like they were literally singing, still echoing with the notes I had sung. The applause from the crowd was still thunderous, and I couldn't wipe off the happy smile on my face.

That was for you, Giacomo.

"Signorina Renzi?"

I turned around to find Jacques, one of the stagehands, waiting for me, a giddy smile on his lips.

"Yes, Jacques?" I asked, moving aside as Carmenita swept past me. She sent me a venomous glare before flouncing past in her Druidess costume, the white skirts flying, and I sighed.

With my triumphant performance I knew I had just made her even more of an enemy than when I first arrived from England two years ago. But for nothing and no-one would I ever deny the thrill of singing, and singing well. It was my life, my home, the only place where I could let my soul fly free.

Abruptly, I jerked myself from my reverie and refocused on Jacques.

"Signore Giovanni has asked me to tell you, you have to get dressed and attend the gala. Apparently one of his patron's wishes to meet you," he whittled off quickly, and I felt triumph soar even more. Carmenita would go insane at this.

"Thank you, Jacques," I murmured serenely, before hurrying past him to my dressing room.

For most of my life I had trained to become an opera singer, learning and practicing until my voice would go hoarse. But for so many years I had been denounced as too inexperienced, too undisciplined and too young. Apparently sopranos were not considered to be ready until their thirties, at the earliest.

Yet here I was, having successfully performed at the age of twenty-nine.

After so many years of darkness, I was finally having my time in the light.

I almost threw myself through the door of my dressing room. It was a spartan chamber, with clean and whitewashed walls; enough room for my dressing table, a screen and a mannequin holding whatever costume I was to wear. In the corner, beside a small washstand and chest of drawers, was my bed. One high window looked out onto the Piazza della Pergola below, the lights from the torches throwing a fiery red evanescence into my room.

I quickly sponged off the stage makeup, and released my hair from its few bonds before pondering what to do with it.

Up or down?

Finally I settled on halfway, brushing out my mahogany curls and pinning the mass into place, keeping a few out to tumble onto my neck. I stripped out of my costume, throwing it over the bed before crossing to my armoire. The corset, stockings and petticoats I wore were satisfactory at least. I tugged a chemise over my head before pulling out the nearest gown.

I wanted to look my best, but I wasn't about to spend hours agonising over it.

It was a pretty cornflower blue, with long sleeves that covered my arms in florally decorated voile. Its neckline was tasteful, only just exposing the top of my breasts, while the bodice clung to my corseted waist. The gown gathered at my hips, flowing into a small bustle until it brushed the ground. The hem was decorated in the same transparent voile.

Just as I was about to attempt to lace myself up, the ballet mistress and my long-time mentor, Signora Alvaretti, come in.

"My little songbird," she gushed, a huge smile on her wizened old face, her black skirts shushing. "You were magnifico tonight!"

"Thank you, Signora," I replied modestly, yet I could not help my own smile. Signora Alvaretti continued to chatter as she automatically began to lace up my dress.

"You stole the show tonight! Carmenita was fuming, absolutely spitting with rage-"

"Funny, she usually only spits when she sings," I quipped, making the Signora chuckle, before she sobered.

"You must be careful, mia cara. You have made an enemy of her, and she will be a dangerous one to have. She is spiteful, and will want to revenge herself on you for your triumph," she warned me, as I grimaced at the tightening of my dress around my already tortured waist.

"I'll try to remember that," I grunted, gritting my teeth as she tied the knot. I hated corsets enough as it was, which was why I preferred to lace them myself. At least I could get away with wearing it loose enough to breathe.

At that very moment I felt like I was going to faint.

Suddenly the Signora stood in front of me, tilting my chin up with one of her long thin fingers.

"Be careful," she warned, before her old eyes softened as she perused my appearance.

"Well?" I asked, pirouetting for her while I held my arms out. I revolved once before she nodded.

"Just one more thing," she murmured, crossing to my dressing table and opening one of my few jewellery boxes. She withdrew her hand, holding a string of pearls, each perfectly matched and intersected by small diamonds.

It had belonged to my mother.

"Wear it," she murmured, as I showed signs of discomfort. "She would be proud of you."

At that, I could not demur, and she fastened it around my neck. It settled into the hollow of my throat, comfortable and cool.

"How about now?" I asked, turning to face her with tears in my eyes. She looked at me with watery eyes.

"My little songbird, you are beautiful. So, so beautiful," she breathed, as I smiled and hugged her.

Signora Alvaretti had been such a comfort to me over the years of hardship, always there, always firm yet kind, always ready with words of encouragement when I felt like giving up.

Tonight had been for her, for my Giacomo. At last, I had triumphed and it had been for them.

And Mamma.

"Go, they're waiting for you," she shooed me out the room, and into the dark halls of the opera house, as we made our way to the grand ballroom where the gala was to be held.

At last we emerged from the shadows, into the candlelight shimmering off the gilt and polished ebony furniture around us, warm light and laughter spilling from a curtained door which I knew led into the ballroom. I smoothed the front of my gown before, with a final squeeze of the hand from Signora Alvaretti, I stepped into the light, and heard the thunder of applause for the second time that night. I descended with a polite smile, into the white and gilt ballroom, lit with chandeliers and crystal, the light bouncing off of jewelled throats and wrists. I kept my head down, demurely, before I raised it when we reached the bottom of the stairs.

I intercepted a glare from Carmenita, her red hair clashing with her frilly green gown, standing with Signore Giovanni and a group of men at the doors to the balcony, and felt my breath catch.

All three were clothed in fine suits, a blonde, a brunette and a black-haired man; and the beauty of these men took my breath away. My heart pounded as I felt the gaze of one of them, the raven-haired one, latch onto my eyes intently.

The wings of my soul fluttered, as I once more felt that exhilarating soar that usually only came with singing, when I looked into his red eyes.

I was entranced.


Aro

I heard her heartbeat, smelt her delicious scent, and turned to watch as she descended the stairs into the ballroom, accompanied by a wizened old woman in black. Applause struck up, and my brothers and I joined in politely.

"Christabelle," I breathed, too low for even my brothers to hear, let alone the cloyingly vulgar woman standing too close to Caius.

If she didn't desist, he would snap. Soon.

My lips crinkled at the thought, before I returned my attention to the young mortal, resplendent in summer blue silk, the pearls and diamonds at her throat glinting in the candlelight. I felt her heartbeat speed up when she felt my gaze, and this time was close enough to see her eyes were a deep brown.

Deep and soulful, like two wells, full of thought and emotion and vitality.

Enthralling.

The light of the chandeliers glinted off her glorious auburn hair, restrained but for a few rebellious curls gracing her alabaster skin. Unlike the many around me, she was the only one with skin as pale as my own.

I would almost think her a vampire, were it not for the heartbeat pounding steadily in my ear, as I watched.

"Ah, Christabelle!" Carlo waved her over, and I caught my breath as she approached. Her beauty increased with every step. I felt eagerness wash over me, such as I had never known, waiting impatiently for her to reach us with her chaperone.

My wait was not long.

"Christabelle, m'dear, allow me to introduce Signores' Aro, Marcus and Caius Volturi, of Volterra and dear old friends. My friends, allow me to introduce Signorina Christabelle Amarantha Renzi," Carlo jovially introduced us, as I watched first my brothers bow over her hand, and her deep curtsey, before she turned to me.

"It's my pleasure to meet you, Signore," she breathed, inclining her head and curtseying. I did not miss the vicious glare Signorina Carmenita sent her way. I stepped forward and took her hand, raising her up.

At the warmth of her hand in mine, I felt vitality course through my deadened veins, for the first time in centuries. She had to have felt it too, because her breath hitched as she raised her head and looked me full in the eye. Then I realised.

I couldn't hear her thoughts. She was silent to me. Shielded from my intrusion.

I caressed her hand, feeling the fragile strength in the nimble fingers, and her soft, warm skin, pulsing with blood and life.

"It's entirely my pleasure, Signorina," I breathed, bending over her hand and kissing it gently.

Her slight shiver was reward enough, as I straightened and our eyes met, holding intensely.

Who was this remarkable mortal?


Ok, more soon.

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