If I write a country a certain way, it does not mean that I do not like them, there just needs to be conflict.
I own nothing.
Seventy years earlier, the Paris Opera House was preparing for the first performance since it's Prima Donna, an Italian woman named Daisy Vargas, quit to marry her childhood sweetheart that grew up to become an Archduke of Germany.
Her sister, Chiara, filled her empty role. Though she had quite the temper when she was mad, she had a beautiful voice when she wasn't using sailor vocabulary at the unfortunate souls who managed to piss her off.
The ballerinas were under the watchful eye of Madam Renée Bonnefoy, the instructor of ballet and the surogate mother of one of our main characters. She was once married to a French poet and they had a daughter together but he died and she raised her daughter in ballet since she could walk. But that is not the main character.
They were almost through with final rehearsals when the owner, a man with two cowlicks and a British accent with a lot more freedom in his voice, walked in with three unusual men. The first was a Spaniard. The second was an Albino. And the third had really bushy eyebrows.
"Excuse me? Everyone?" The owner asked, trying and failing to get their attention.
No one was listening.
He locked eyes with Chiara and a silent conversation passed between them.
"EVERYONE SHUT THE HELL UP!" came an unholy screech from the woman. They knew that she had a set of lungs, but that took it to a whole knew level.
"Alright, thank you Chiara! Now I suppose that you have all heard the rumors that I am retiring. Those rumors are true."
There were a lot of groans and a few lucky people were about twenty francs per groaning person richer.
"These are the two men that are going to be co owning the theatre. Gilbert Beilschmidt and Antonio Fernandez Carriedo." he continued.
The two men bowed even though they looked ridiculous doing so. Once they stood upright, a fluffy little bird made it's perch at the top of Gilbert's head.
"And this man will be our new patron, Sir Arthur Kirkland." The owner finished.
Everyone clapped except one girl who had a faint memory of the man but could not remember exactly why.
"I hope you treat them with the same respect that you have shone me and with that, I leave for Australia. G'day mates!"
And with that, he ran for the door jumped, clicked his heels together, and landed on his face. But he jumped right back up and that is what mattered.
"I will not be staying long but I will be back tonight." Sir Kirkland left in a more gentleman way.
"Why don't we introduce you to our leading lady, Signora Chiara Vargas." The composer Roderich Edelstein suggested.
"Oh I know him! He's the damn brother of the Potato Eater!" She yelled.
"Oh you're Daisy's sister! I didn't see the resemblance." Gilbert joked.
Chiara had to be restrained to keep from killing him.
"Eres una mujer hermosa!" Antonio said. And by some gift of God, that shut her up.
"Que?" She looked like a dear in the headlights. Oh wait, those will not be invented for about seventy years give or take. Oops.
"Me escuchas senorita!" He had the nerve to smile at her.
"And Madam Renée Bonnefoy, our ballet instructor. EVERYONE, GET BACK TO WORK!" He gestured to a beautiful woman in her early forties. Her long dark hair was in a braid and her blue eyes were kind.
"Bonjour Monsieurs, I think that the three of us will have a great time untuning that piano of his."
Gilbert grinned. He might have asked her to accompany him to diner if she wasn't twenty years, give or take, his senior. Anyway, even if they were the same age, he would have thought of her as a sister.
Maybe she has a daughter?
"These are the girls that I have trained in ballet."
Antonio was more focused on the Prima Donna while Gilbert's heart stopped. There in front of him doing a perfect pirouette was an angel of light. Her long blonde hair was braided into a bun at the top of her head. She moved with the grace of a million swans. Gilbird must have thought that she was amazing as well because he left his perch to fly around her head until she stopped out of confusion. Then he made his new home on her head.
"My daughter, Madeleine Bonnefoy. If you wish to have children, I suggest that you don't go anywhere near my daughter or Je vais couper vos boules et fourrer dans votre gorge, la seule manière que vous pouvez jamais avoir des enfants n'est grâce à l'adoption."
Gilbert didn't know French that well, but that sounded like a threat and Madam Renée's smile did not calm his nerves.
"Maman, you don't have to say that. He is new and you should make him welcome, not threaten him." Her violet eyes were beautiful.
Gilbert momentarily jumped into another plain of existence and prayed for all he was worth that she was not courting anyone.
"What about la chica over there? Is she your daughter also?" Antonio asked Renée.
Renée looked to where he was looking and saw her second daughter. Well daughter in all but blood and legal issues.
Her blonde sunflower hair was also in a braid but it was just that. Her bright smile and blue eyes could easily keep the theatre lit.
"That is Abigail Oxenstierna."
The name rung a bell with the two.
"Oxenstierna? Is she of any relation to Berwald and Tiina Oxenstierna. The Swedish violinist?"
Renée nodded. "Their only child. Her mother died in her second childbirth along with the baby. After her father died when Abigail was seven, she came to live with us."
"Why you and not any other relatives, Frau?"
"Because her father's is an only child and his in laws hated him."
They were about to ask more questions when they heard a scream and a crash.
One of the curtains fell and almost crushed Chiara. She was fine physically with no injuries. Emotionally, she was livid.
Shoving off any concern coworkers, she calmly addressed everyone.
"I know that you all prefer my sister to me. Even I do at sometimes. But that does not give you an excuse to drop something on my head or constantly say that you wish my sister was here. You could have also not insulted me everyday by calling me a 'pasta eating surrender monkey'. Non si sente me voi bastardo fase di mano? Luciano si sono un bastardo che merita di marcire all'inferno! I quit, one of the chorus girls can have my part." And she ran off stage.
"With God as my witness, I swear that I did not do that!"
As she ran off, Antonio ran after her because he thought that he saw tears in her eyes.
While Roderich was aggressively playing the piano and the others were arguing about what was going to happen, Renée looked around the area that Luciano was. She was not expecting to find him, but maybe he left a note.
Renée was proven right as she found an envelope on the ground with a blood red hammer and sickle sealing it. She broke the seal and read the letter.
One of the chorus girls was suggesting that they refund and move the opening night to another date when Renée interrupted.
"You think that is wise monsieur? I found a letter from the 'Opera Ghost' saying that he wishes you luck and he wants twenty thousand francs a month left in Box 5."
"Are you serious?" Words cannot describe the confusion and disbelief on Gilbert's face.
"Why not? Monsieur Jared paid him twenty thousand francs. Surly you can afford it with Sir Eyebrows as your patron."
Gilbert laughed at the nickname. "As much as I want to pay twenty thousand francs to a ghost, we can't cancel or we would have to refund."
"Why don't we have Abigail sing? She may just be a ballerina but she has been taking lessons." Madeleine offered as a suggestion.
The suggestion was so absurd that Roderich slammed his fingers on his precious piano.
"I don't have a problem with it as long as she can sing. You are in no position to find anyone else." Renée told Gilbert.
Gilbert asked the nervous girl to come up so they could hear her sing.
And when she did, the voice of an angel came out. Everyone stopped and stared at this angel of music.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
That night in Box 4, the patron of the opera house watched in fascination at this angelic beauty. With each perfect note, he remembered her more and more as part of his childhood. He couldn't believe that this was the same girl that would chase after fairytales in the woods but still run to her father for protection from the ghosts in her closet and under her bed.
Arthur Kirkland left the opera a bit early so he could find some flowers to give her.
What Arthur planned when he was a child was to marry Abigail Oxenstierna but after her father died, she left him.
Now that he found her again, he was not going to let her go.
She may not remember him, but he planned to court her arms marry her like how he wanted to when they were young.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
In the shadows of Box 5, a figure was watching his masterpiece. He was so proud of his sunflower for finally getting the spotlight that she deserved.
It wasn't like he didn't like the Italian, she just wasn't his sunflower.
His sunflower was an angel in his darkness. She didn't fear him like the others, but he never showed himself to her out of fear and rejection. He was going to talk to her face to face this time.
She might even come to love him.
Different thoughts and scenarios were scrambling in his mind with different outcomes. Mostly bad than good.
As he watched, he held in his hands, a single sunflower.
Sorry if Romano is OOC.
Je vais couper vos boules et fourrer dans votre gorge, la seule manière que vous pouvez jamais avoir des enfants n'est grâce à l'adoption-I will cut off your balls and shove them down your throat so the only way that you could ever have children is through adoption.
Non si sente me voi bastardo fase di mano? Luciano si sono un bastardo che merita di marcire all'inferno!-Do you hear me you bastard stage hand? Luciano you are a bastard that deserves to rot in Hell!