Author's note:
Here's Chapter 2! Let me know what you think!
Disclaimer:
I own nothing!
Clarie's POV:
"But promise me
That sometimes
You will think of me!"
Christine Daaé fell to the floor, where she received her tremendous round of applause for her triumphant solo. The opera hall had perhaps never been so full of cheering before. The beautiful new singer took her bow before she left the grand stage.
Clarie was happy, if a little surprised, at her friend's success. She wished to be able to go congratulate her friend, but her part in the production was far from over.
The next hour, once the audience managed to calm itself, passed in a blurred confusion. Clarie wished to be able to lose herself in the music, as she always used to, but she knew better than to expect such things. Thus, each moment was all the more annoying to her. All she wished was to go back to her room. Crowds never much pleased her.
After the curtain finally drew closed, many of the players in the orchestra told Clarie how wonderfully she played that evening. Even Monsieur Fontaine managed a begrudging note of his approval to her. Most of the praise, however, was reserved for Christine Daaé. And rightfully so, in Clarie's opinion. Her voice had been stunning that evening! Clarie didn't even know she could sing.
The door to Clarie's small room finally appeared, and she sighed in relief as she felt the brass handle at long, long last.
"Miss Mercier."
Clarie paused at the door, sighing to herself. In retrospect, she should have expected that the evening wouldn't come to an end so easily for her. Even with the entire opera distracted by Christine.
She turned around with a start. "Oh, hello, Madame Giry," she greeted quickly.
The black-dressed widow walked up to Clarie, visible frown lines showing in her aged features.
"Mademoiselle," she said curtly, "you were excellent this evening."
This short praise surprised Clarie. Madame Giry never paid attention to the orchestra. Why did she care now?
"Merci, Madame," Clarie replied, somewhat confused.
Her confusion grew even more when the woman pulled out a rose from behind her back.
"I was told to deliver this to you," she said, handing her the flower.
"Oh my," Clarie breathed, unused to such gifts, "do you know who they are from?"
"I was told not to say," said Madame Giry. With a swift nod, she turned as if to leave. Clarie moved to close the door behind her, assuming the woman had said all that she had needed to say, but before she could Madame Giry's voice came once more.
"I saw the Comte de Chagny earlier. Perhaps your guardians have come to pay a visit."
With that, the woman walked off, toward Christine's room, by Clarie's guess. She raised an eyebrow in the direction of the concierge as she closed the door behind her. Madame Giry is acting strange today, she thought.
She seriously doubted any sort of visit from her guardians, not tonight at least. They would likely be swarming Christine Daaé's room along with everyone else.
Especially Monsieur l'Vicomte, thought Clarie with a guilty smirk. As soon as the thought entered her mind she scolded herself. Leave him alone. He's in love.
The word love was an understatement of Raoul's emotion toward Christine. Clarie knew she wasn't supposed to know that, but after three weeks of being left alone to wander around the de Chagny mansion, one got to know its inhabitants. There were boxes upon boxes of old letters toward a childhood friend: Christine Daaé. Clarie hadn't known until she came to the opera hall for her audition that the same Christine was still in Paris.
"At least one of us is happy," Clarie murmured, twirling the rose absentmindedly in her hand as she sat on the bed.
It was a strange thing to her, the rose. It was perhaps the loveliest flower she knew, so elegant, so beautiful. Yet if you were to touch it, you would find that it's dangerous. Touch its stem, and you get pricked.
Looks can be deceiving, Clarie thought. She rested the flower against her pillow and sat up. Her hand flew to the chain around her neck.
Looks can be very deceiving.
Suddenly Clarie found herself rushing over to her wardrobe, her hands digging desperately inside of it. Within seconds they felt what she was looking for, and she all but ripped the box out. And then it was there, in her hands.
It wasn't terribly expensive. Actually, some might have found it rather commonplace. But to Clarie, it meant everything. Because it wasn't just any music box.
It was her mother's music box.
Gently, she began to twirl the old handle on the side of the box. There was a slight pause at first-it had been a while since Clarie had used it, after all-and then the sweet, familiar melody of her childhood began to drift out.
Just hearing the tune made Clarie shiver. She gripped the box until her fingers turned white. Her mind, rather than drifting, dove headfirst into the music, bringing her back to better times.
Bringing her back to her parents.
"You are my child of moonlight," Clarie murmured the lullaby softly.
"You call the angels down.
There is a peace within my heart,
Whenever you're around."
A solitary tear fell from the girl's right eye, soon accompanied by others. They leaked down her face in a silent river. The pain had once again filled her heart, quiet and familiar and almost unbearable.
She squeezed her eyes shut, and tried unsuccessfully to force the tears away.
It didn't work.
The quiet music continued its melancholy song, and the tears continued their trail down her face.
"I miss you, Maman," she whispered, "I miss you, Papa."
The tears were coming steadily now. Clarie drew in a shaky breath.
"Why am I so alone?" she murmured as she surrendered to the tears.
How was she to know that she wasn't alone?
Author's note:
Sorry, kind of a sad ending :(. I know there was a lack of phantom in this chapter, don't worry, he'll be here soon enough.
Review please!