Several years passed, and Meg never caught her mother speaking to the mysterious stranger again. So it wasn't long before the memory was pushed into the back of her mind. It was no help that her mother was constantly drilling her to improve her skills as a ballerina. Every night Meg would fall into a dreamless sleep that would last until her mother would rouse her early in the morning to begin her day of dancing. She barely had enough time to sleep, let alone thinking about the mysterious visitor that night. The only benefit of all the vigorous training was that Meg gained a little bedroom separate from the ballet dorms just down the hall from her mother's living space.
Meg knew her mother wanted her to become Prima Ballerina one day, just like she had been when she had be able to dance, before the accident which resulted in the death of her father, and her mother's broken heel, that never healed. So she practiced and practiced. Auditions for ballet soloist in the upcoming opera season were coming up and she knew that her mother wanted her to get a solo. The only problem was Meg didn't love dancing like her mother did. She enjoyed it, but she had no passion for it, and so she could not dance with any soul. But she tried. She wanted to make her mother proud. Every night she would practice on the great opera stage, trying to feel the music and put her soul into her dancing. But no matter how perfectly she completed the moves, she just didn't feel any passion.
Erik watched her as he always did. He watched her complete her dance routines with grace and elegance, but he too noticed the lack of passion in the girl. For several nights he thought, and then he composed. It was a simple but pretty song for the young Giry.
The next night he waited for her in the shadows. She came and lit a few candles and began to practice the newest routine that had been choreographed that day. Once again, Erik noticed there was no soul in anything she did. He hoped that the music he had written for her would awake some kind of passion. Slipping unnoticed from the shadows, he made his way towards the piano that lay at the foot of the stage. He needed to read no music as his hands began to play the simple melody. Meg stopped dancing. There at the foot of the stage was a man. The shadows hid part of his face, but the candle light was reflected in his sea green eyes that were focused on her. Something about the way they looked at her was reassuring, and she felt oddly safe, considering the situation. Around her, she could hear a beautiful unearthly melody begin to unwind. It was so beautiful, simple and stunning. In all her days at the opera house, she had never heard a song like this. The music was so entrancing, it filled her soul and without recognizing it, she began to dance. There were no choreographed moves that she had to follow, just her and the music.
Erik watched her begin to dance. He watched her become one with the music and was enthralled as he watched her dance as she had never danced before. He kept on playing, improvising and creating variations of the theme when the original melody died. She flowed into the changes of music easily and flawlessly. Her body represented the music and every movement she danced was full of soul. For a 13 year old, Erik was impressed. When he sensed her beginning to tire, he slowly began to draw the music to its end.
The last note rang in the air before it faded gently away. Meg gasped for breaths of air and dropped to the ground. She had never felt so alive while dancing. The music had been so breathtakingly beautiful and seemed to speak to her, as if it had been made for her. She looked up to the mysterious player, but found him gone. Somehow, it did not surprise her. She headed into her room and changed before flopping into bed and closing her eyes. As she drifted off to sleep, she could have sworn she heard a voice singing the same melody she had danced to, not many moments ago.
It felt like she had been asleep for only a few minutes when she woke to her mother shaking her.
"Marguarite Giry! Why on earth are you still in bed?!"
Meg slowly blinked away the drowsiness away and began to change into her tutu. When her mother left, to give her some privacy, Meg began to remember the events of the night before; the beauty of the music flowing seamlessly into her and the mysterious man who played every note perfectly. She spent the rest of the night dreaming about the man returning to play for her that night.
Erik watched little Meg dance around the stage, flawless, but still lacking any soul. He frowned, she had it within her, so why on earth was she not dancing like she had last night. He puzzled over it for a bit as he watched rehearsals.
After a day on non-stop drilling for the upcoming opera, which was rumoured to have been force upon Monsieur Lefèvre by the Opera Ghost, Meg was at last free to have a nap. But try as she might, she could not sleep. Her mind was counting down the hours for her to be able to dance with that music played by that man. Erik was passing by her room using one of the many secret passages in the opera house. Peering through the air vent slightly above her bed, he watched her squirm restlessly in her bed. He knew it would not do for her to be missing vital moments of sleep when she barely got enough as it was, so he sang her a soft lullaby. Erik took pride in his singing voice. In his years of solitude with only Antoinette as company, he had mastered many things, from architecture to cooking to ventriloquism. But he thought his voice was among the greatest of his talents. He could see that Meg had visibly relaxed under the influence of his voice and was drifting off to sleep, He stay long enough to be sure that she was asleep before departing to run some errands before the night ahead.
Meg woke with a start. She had been dreaming about something important, but now that her mind was awake and her eyes open, she couldn't recall her dream. Pulling on her tutu and tying up her hair with a blue satin ribbon, she walked swiftly to the auditorium, her heart thumping with every step. There he was, waiting for her by the piano. Candles had been lit around the stage bathing the room in more light that the night before, yet his face was still hidden in the shadows. She wanted to approach him and speak, but she felt too shy, so she began to stretch. He watched her intensely as she began warming up her muscles, then without a warning, he began to play. Like the night before, the music surrounded her, enveloping her in beauty, filling her soul as she began to dance. She moved with the grace and passion that she had been lacking that rehearsal, and Erik briefly wondered if it was because of him and his music. Though he carried himself with pride, Erik had never been arrogant, so he soon pushed that thought away and focused on the blond ballerina dancing around the stage.
She felt so alive! The rush of the music filled her entirely. She barely thought about what movements she needed to do, and just let the music take over. The music was slowly morphing into the familiar songs that they had been learning during rehearsals for the new opera. Usually she had to pay attention to what she was doing during the rehearsals, but the way he played the notes, something was special about them. It was almost as if the music had a life of its own, and was dancing with her, like a dance partner, complementing her every move. The music ended too soon, and as soon as Meg looked up, the man was gone. As if he had merely melted into the shadows.
Erik felt proud of himself. In just two nights, his little ballerina had clearly improved. Of course there was a little technical error here and there. But she was without a doubt, much better than other girls her age, and even older. Pulling of his shirt, he climbed into bed and closed his eyes. Yes, he could see it know. His little blond angel, the youngest, but most talented prima ballerina the world had ever seen. In his mind, he pictured her twirling around the stage, entrancing the audience. Then he promptly fell asleep.
And so, the mysterious man returned every night to play his music, and slowly, she began to improve during rehearsals, dancing with more soul every day.
Antoinette could not have been more proud as she watched her daughter improve every day. She knew without a doubt that her daughter would easily grab many of the solos, for no one could deny her Meg's talent.
The mysterious man and Meg fell into a routine. She would dance the night away with him and his music, then he would disappear and she would return to bed. Her mama would wake her a few hours later to begin training with the rest of the ballet rats as well as spend time practicing with her daughter before eating. Then after supper Meg would lie in bed until he sang her to sleep. After a few hours, she would wake and meet him on stage where he would play for her. No words passed between them, although she would receive occasional notes with criticism or compliments, and gifts, no doubt from him.