Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera or any of its adaptations or characters.
Title: Songbird
Summary: After the death of her father, Christine finds herself at the mercy of an aunt she hardly knew existed. With her entire world changing in an instant, her future never seemed so uncertain. Yet, the mysterious masked lord may just be able to offer her a life unlike anything she ever imagined.
Author's Note: I am back! I have been waiting "patiently" to write this. I apologize if there are some slight differences in character personalities or whatnot. It seems that five days actually do have an impact. Anyway, I used Frankenstein as the basis for Erik's opera. Granted, this is not very important or relevant. Glancing at the timeline of releases and whatnot, it should hopefully work. Just as a note, too, the ending may seem kind of abrupt and weird and random, but it will make sense in the next chapter or two…I should think…
Chapter 11 – Debut
Backstage was utter chaos. Chorus girls were frantically clawing their way to get a good position in one of the few mirrors standing about. Stagehands were ensuring that they had the necessary props and sets in the necessary order. The ballet dancers were stretching. They certainly didn't want to accidentally pull a muscle or ruin a routine because they hadn't prepared accordingly.
And, away in a corner and out of the commotion, the diva La Carlotta brooded while witnessing the normality of backstage life on opening night.
She had her fur wrap about her shoulders and sported a very colorful gown beneath it. There wasn't anyone who would mistake her for anyone but the prima donna she was. She watched through slit and cautious eyes as the company assembled in their disorganized way. She gave a passing glance to the opening costumes, mentally going through the scene step-by-step. The air was filled with excitement and nerves, as was common on opening night. The only thing La Carlotta felt, however, was bitterness.
She was supposed to be the one starring in the new opera. This was her stage, her audience. Yet, in one fell swoop, she had been severed from both. She had been mercilessly kicked out of the role by a no-name youth. It was quite obvious that the managers just didn't appreciate her as they should. She didn't care what the composer instructed them to do. They should have defended her. But, she knew that that was expecting too much from those bumbling fools.
Carlotta turned away in one fluid motion, her long skirt sweeping the ground dramatically. She glided toward the hallway that contained the dressing rooms. She had really only had a single encounter with the girl who had stolen her role, and she figured she wouldn't mind laying eyes upon the little thief once more. They had briefly met earlier that day when the managers had brought the girl in and announced she would be taking over the lead. Needless to say, shocked was not a strong enough word to describe the reaction. Perhaps she could offer some words of encouragement—encouragement for Mademoiselle No-Name to leave and never look back.
Then again, admittedly she wasn't getting any younger. Her gloved hand went to her face and delicately caressed the age lines found there. Time was not an ally, especially to members of the stage. She had always known that eventually someone would come in and replace her. But she was still useful. She was not out-of-date yet. She could still sell out the entire audience.
She mentally cursed Andre and Firmin for making her doubt herself and her abilities. She knew she was the best around. One didn't get to where she was now by having insecurities. She had worked her way up. She had learned how cutthroat the stage really was. So, if her managers thought she would just sit idly by and let some street urchin take her spotlight, they were mistaken.
No, they were dead wrong.
xXx
Christine was a ball of nerves. She tried to distract herself by primping some more, but she soon lost interest. She chose to pace and knead her hands instead. It seemed to at least center things a bit. However, it also allowed her mind to wander and to worry.
Her big debut was less than an hour away. She had arrived earlier that day to learn the choreography for the show and meet with the rest of the cast and crew. Her sudden entrance did not seem to go over too well. They had been solely focused on getting her steps and positions down. Granted, there appeared to be some room for improvisation with her character. She had then gone straight into a small rehearsal with just the maestro and a few of his musicians.
Now, in complete costume, she just had to quell the doubts that she had been too busy to listen to before. It was definitely harder than one would imagine. Her mind had created a checklist and it kept going over each and every point. It contained the steps, the lyrics, and the instructions she had been given in this short amount of time.
Sleep had become a foreign concept in the last three days. She had been much too busy for any of that. And, when she had managed to shut her eyes, her sleep had been restless because of the looming opera. Even at that moment, she did not feel tired at all. Her adrenaline still kept her going.
Erik had taught her and trained her from before sun up to after sun down. She hadn't had a single moment away from him. His chambers had practically become hers. She vaguely recalled a time when she must have accidentally dozed on one of the divans. She recalled being awoken rather rudely and abruptly. Having put so much time and effort in, though, it would seem that she should be prepared and comfortable with where she was at.
There was one thing she sorely needed at that moment, though: Erik.
She yearned for him to walk through that dressing room door. She had ceased in her pacing to stare directly at it, as if anticipating the handle turning and him appearing within the doorway. Her heart fluttered the more she imagined it would occur. She had to hear comforting words from him. She had to know that she would be fine and successful. Mostly, she wanted to hear from him that even if she did fail, as she suspected she might, he would not be disappointed.
"Waiting for someone?" a voice behind her came.
Christine whirled around to spy Erik standing within the dressing room behind her. She saw no other door or point of entry, and she had not heard a single sound of his entrance. Even so, this was merely a fleeting thought. She quickly closed the distance between them, relieved.
"I didn't know if you would come," she confessed breathily. "I am afraid that this was all a big mistake."
Her large dark eyes searched his stoic expression for some sort of reassurance. But, again, the solid white mask might as well have been plastered on both sides. She could read nothing. He stared right back at her.
"If you keep thinking that then of course you will fail," he told her without softness. "Those types of thoughts are like viruses. They will bury themselves into your mind and sit there, slowly eating away at any confidence you have. You will have sabotaged yourself. So stop it right now."
Christine took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes, monsieur."
He barely placed his hands on her shoulders. They rested there in a rather awkward state. "I've trained you well, Christine. You know this. You know all of this. Just imagine you are back at the chateau with me, going over lessons and songs. Take those emotions and experiences and use them to support you, not hinder you."
She nodded again, a small smile finally coming to life. Her eyes dove straight into his, swimming and sinking. She allowed herself to be devoured by them. Her mind emptied. All of her doubts began to dissipate. She was completely taken over by him.
Then a rap on the door interrupted them. Christine spun toward the wooden door, breaking Erik's touch and their gaze. "We need you on stage," a voice informed.
"I-I'll be right there," she stammered.
She found herself able to breathe once the footsteps were receding. She spun back around toward Erik to continue their preparations, but she gasped when she found he had disappeared just as mysteriously as he had revealed himself. She turned again to the front then. A deep breath followed, and she exited the dressing room.
She was very much alone as she made her way to the stage. Granted there were people running around in the hall beside her, but they paid her no attention. She had only her thoughts to keep her company again.
She loitered in one of the wings, as the production had already begun. Her eyes danced with the characters on stage, which seemed to calm her and carry her. It aided in putting her in the place of the character she was meant to play. She barely noticed when several assistants fell upon her to ensure her appearance.
There were still several pieces of the costume, merely decorations, which had to be pinned on. It was during this process when a figure looking very unlike the rest approached her. It was obvious by the way she moved and held herself that she wasn't one to normally work behind the scenes.
"La Carlotta," one of the seamstresses breathed. She backed away as the diva came forward, ripping one of the decorations from the other's grasp.
Carlotta smiled, though obviously strained and fake. She began to fit the piece into place on the costume. "Well I have to say that you certainly look the part," she hissed. "Whether or not you can sing it will be made known shortly."
Christine was still in intimidated silence. She had seen the famous singer earlier when the announcement had been made. It couldn't be said that Carlotta was an accepting woman. She had stormed out in a tantrum once she had learned she had been cut from the show. To have her here and now was very suspect and unsettling.
Carlotta's eyes darted to Christine's. "Don't tell me you don't have your voice, little one. You don't want to upset your audience. Every single one of them came here to hear you sing. You don't want to disappoint, now do you? And just think of all of the work everyone in this theater has done to bring this show together." She clucked her tongue. "It's an awful lot of people you'll be letting down."
Christine swallowed, finding her voice. "That is precisely why failure is not an option," she whispered defiantly.
Anger flashed across Carlotta's expression. There even seemed to be a hint of a threat there. "Good," she growled.
Christine felt a sharp prick as Carlotta shoved the pin into her skin beneath the garment. She was proud that she didn't gasp or react in any way. Still, the spot stung, and she was quite certain that there were probably a few drops of blood forming. Instead of responding in the negative, Christine smiled just as non-genuinely then proceeded into the middle of the stage.
The opera being a rather loose adaptation of a relatively new story titled Frankenstein, Christine had been forced into the role of Elizabeth Lavenza, the love interest of the main character Victor Frankenstein. It was her big introduction scene, and she performed it beautifully. Anyone in the audience who had had qualms regarding the new lead was convinced by the end of the song.
It set a good precedent for the rest of the show. By the end, much to La Carlotta's disappointment, all of the members of the audience were on their feet in a standing ovation. It was said that the composer had created yet another work of genius. "Yet another piece to live up to," some cynics might have said. Nonetheless, it was heartfelt and dark and realistic.
The biggest surprise and best part of the show, many witnesses said, was the up-and-coming songstress Christine Daaé. After a performance as she had put on, she was sure to be celebrated throughout Paris and beyond. Needless to say, hers was the only name on everyone's lips.
The show and Christine took the headlines in the papers. Those papers stretched across France and even extended beyond those borders. All of this occurred within the first few performances. Success basically occurred overnight. Very soon it would be seen to be a blessing and a curse. Because with all of the good there is bound to be some bad.