Righhht, I forgot to mention this during the first chapter - I don't own any of Phantom of the Opera or any of the characters except for the OC's, i think you'll recognize them when you see them ^^" this is my first time trying out a non-fluffy slightly-sad fic so please bear with me . also I love all the characters in Phantom, it's just that i sorta see Meg becoming, well, the way i wrote her.
Either way, enjoy! *pikablush*
-INSERT COOL TRANSITION HERE-
"LOUISE!" The 10 year old girl sat in the dressing room, smiling to herself. "LOUISE!" She looked up at the sound of her name, almost like snapping out of a trance. "There you are!" Another girl not much older than her stood in front of her. "What are you doing here?"
"Hi Lena!" Louise smiled demurely. "I was listening to the music! Can't you hear it?"
"What music?" Salena Giudicelli scoffed. "We're nowhere near the orchestra section, or the practice hall for that matter – come on, we'll be late again!"
So reluctantly, Louise got up from her spot and had to ignore the music as they ran for their ballet practice. With long slender legs, Lena looked like a deer gracefully running through the forest. However, Louise looked like the dog that was hunting her as she struggled to keep up with her friend. With short limbs and weak physique, she was already at a disadvantage in ballet – many people wondered why she even took it, she was so bad.
But that was a question even Louise couldn't answer. It seemed her parents had planned her whole life from her birth. She would become a dancer, and as she grew older they would retire, and expected to be kept in their luxury by their star ballerina. The only flaw in the plan was her lack of skill in the area, but they often turned a blind eye to that fact.
"Finally, ladies" They burst through to see a critical Mam'zelle Giry glaring at them. "Take your places and begin the dance of the snowflakes again!"
Personally the girl always hated the dance of the snowflakes – too many complicated moves for only people with longer legs. For her, it was like wrapping her left leg around her neck. But since she wasn't the teacher – as Mam'zelle Giry pointed out on many occasions - Louise sighed and obeyed. It always seemed like the dance instructor was out to get her – whether it was constantly criticizing her form, or making her take the most menial roles when she was younger.
So far so good – she hadn't fallen over once, just as her father came in to observe them again. However not falling over required a large amount of focus and frowns. The smile pasted over the other ballerina's faces was missing from the girl, and everyone could see.
"Louise, smile!" Mam'zelle Giry called out. The noise startled her, and she looked up with a pasted beam in a desperate attempt for approval from her father. Then she tripped on air, and in a flurry of feet and floor, she crashed on the ground with an almighty thump.
"LOUISE DE CHAGNY!" The teacher bellowed. "C'EST ABOMINABLE! Raoul, I'm really sorry, I've tried, but it's not going to work." She turned back to the girl. "Please leave my class."
"I'm sorry!" Tears brimmed at the girl's different colored eyes. "I didn't mean to-"
"GET OUT!"
With a loud sob, Louise put her head in her hands and ran off shamefully. Why was she such a failure? She wasn't pretty and couldn't dance – that made her at the bottom of the pile in the dancers. She was always teased for her eyes and short legs. She would never make it as a dancer; she knew that much; but it still hurt to be humiliated like that!
As she ran back into the abandoned dressing room, the only place she felt happy, and closed her eyes. Sure enough, the soft, gentle music from a piano could be heard in her mind. The notes were distant and faint at first, but gradually they enveloped the girl, and she fell into a trance. Her eyes widened and she rose, contently unaware of the changes surrounding her. She didn't notice herself following the music, like the pied piper to a rat; she walked through the mirror into an old dusty corridor. Then, she walked into the awaiting room of the player.
As soon as the player stopped the music, she was brought back to life. Her eyes widened at her new surroundings; it looked like one of the old storage rooms in the theater, with the large props in random places, and the old grand piano that stood in the middle. On the bench of that piano sat the masked musician.
"Hello," he smirked. "What's your name?"
"L-Louise, sir" she stammered. "Louise de Chagny,"
"Hello Louise" he got up. "What brings you here?"
His tone didn't sound accusing, nor did it sound curious. But somehow, Louise felt drawn to this man, like he was on her side for once. "I followed the music," she whispered, not out of fear, but out of respect. "It was pretty,"
"Would you like to learn it?" he smirked again. She nodded eagerly, and he chuckled softly. "Alright, I will teach you. For free, but," he reached out and stroked her chin with a gloved hand. "You must promise three things."
"What?" she breathed.
"Three simple promises," the gloved hand held up three fingers. "You must obey me," two fingers. "You must trust me," one finger now. "And finally, you must love me," The gloved hand turned into a hand for her to shake.
"Love?" she frowned. How could she love someone she didn't know? But as he held out his hand, she nodded and shook it. He had strange manner about him; but she would grow to like him. So far, nobody had been willing to teach her anything other than ballet and school studies, and that was all the while with her parents breathing down her neck.
He pulled the piano's stool out and patted it. Louise then sat down and he stood behind her.
"Play what you feel," he encouraged her. "What music did you hear?"
She frowned. "I don't play an instrument!"
"When you followed the music, what did you hear?"
She closed her eyes and tested a note gingerly. As the note rang out, she heard the music again, along with a flicker of fire in her mind. She tried another note, and the flicker started again.
Suddenly her hands controlled themselves as she skimmed over each note, and repeated the music she had heard for so long. The imitation was not as perfect as the original; as she made mistakes here and there; but overall and considering her past experiences of music, she was not bad.
"You have potential, my dear" The man placed a hand on her shoulder. "I believe I can make a better musician out of you than that Mam'zelle Giry could make of a dancer."
He then stood her up and opened the piano stool to reveal several dusty sheets of music. Louise gaped at the one he laid in front of her and drew her hands back from the piano.
"Monsieur," she cried. "I'm afraid I can't read music scores," her eyes looked up mournfully and she dropped them onto her sides. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be, we have time to learn" he grasped them and gently eased them on the keys. "I'm not going anywhere," she looked at him, into the mask, and her eyes widened.
"You," she gasped. "You have different colored eyes!"
"Yes," he nodded. "And?"
"Oh," she turned back to the piano. "Nothing, it's just… I thought it was only me."
With that, he continued and taught her the ways of music. Before long, she realized how long she had been in that storage room for; as she heard the clock strike 5.
"Oh!" Louise cried. "I didn't realize it was so late!" she turned to the man. "Monseiur, please tell me how to get out of here – my parents will be worried about me!"
"Of course," he reluctantly stopped his lesson and guided her through the passages. Louise tried remembering which turn was where, and she made a mental map of how to get back.
"Thank you, Monsieur," she smiled graciously. "May I ask - who are you?"
"Why," the man paused. "I am a friend of your mother's."
"Oh, alright" she curtseyed. "May I call you Uncle then?"
"Why not?" He smirked. "Farewell, Louise de Chagny, until we meet again"
