I ran my fingers through my hair as a stifled a yawn with the other hand. The halls of the opera house were dark, but the small oil lamp clutched in my fist (and had almost upended a few moments ago) provided a reasonable amount of light for its size. These nightly visits to the restroom have become rather frequent, and it doesn't help that the baby decides to keep me up in addition to my flattened bladder. No one ever tells you how much a baby takes over your body when you get pregnant.
I stopped as I saw a figure up ahead emerging from one of the rooms. She paused when she saw me.
"Alanna." She said cooly.
"Madam Giry," I blinked. I hadn't interacted with her in months, not since she had advised against perusing a relationship with Erik. "I didn't know you were back."
"I had to be sure I got back in time for the season to restart, didn't I?" She said, her tone bland. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at me, however. "I heard about your situation. I told you, didn't I? But you didn't listen." She advanced on me, her black cane clicking at her side. "I warned you about him, but today's youth always think that they know best, that old birds like Madam Giry are raving lunatics."
"It isn't like that at all," I said, stunned by her harsh words. "Erik, he's... He's not like you said." I turned away from her. "I don't have to explain myself to you."
A claw like hand reached out and grabbed my shoulder as I attempted to leave. "Heed my warning, he'll bring you and your child nothing but pain and suffering, Alanna Belle."
I took a deep breath as I glanced over my shoulder at her. "It's Destler, now."
()
Christine was silent as I ran through the logistics of Don Juan, which we both knew was a waste of time.
"A few things have changed since...since it was last performed," I said uncomfortably. "But nothing that won't be easy to understand."
Christine nodded, her curls bobbing. I sighed, glancing around her dressing room. It seemed more like a suite rather than a dressing room, with lavish furniture and other such niceties that were absent in my dressing room. I pushed around the papers before me on the little table Christine and I sat at, glancing at her nervously.
"You're awfully quiet."
She looked up, brown eyes calculating me. "Am I? Sorry."
I took a deep breath and decided just to clear the air. "You know, don't you?"
I didn't need to explain further; my tone said it all.
"Yes. I do." She said quietly. "I thought... I thought he would have left Paris...would have..." She stood suddenly. "I didn't want to believe he was here. Much less had fallen in love again." She folded her arms, turning away from me. "I won't lie and say I'm not jealous, because I am. But not in the way you think. When I left Erik, he had been ready to die for me, to destroy the entire opera house and himself with it if I didn't chose him. He would have done anything for me, even letting me go. I was his angel, his obsession... And now he has simply brushed me aside, forgotten me, truly let me go. To know someone claimed to love you so deeply then just moved on... It makes you question if anyone who ever loved you is telling the truth." She sat back down, her eyes weighed down by the years Erik forced upon her. I felt slightly guilty, and I searched for anything comforting I could say to put her mind at rest.
"Christine... It wasn't easy for him. He didn't just drop his love for you. And I'm not sure if it was love. I think he was in love with the idea of you, not you as a person, as Raoul does. Erik loved what he had built you up to be. You were his angel of music, and he had this idea in his head of what you were. Once he figured this out... It was... I don't know, maybe I'm rambling, but don't think you're worthless because he's moved on." I said. "He hurt you, Christine. He didn't hurt you because he loved you. You don't hurt the people you love." I folded my hands. "Christine-"
We were interrupted by a knock on the dressing room door. Christine silenced me with a hand before going to get it. A woman with long golden hair stood in the doorway. She was short and had a slender build.
"Meg." Christine said in surprise.
"Hi," Meg said before Christine embraced her.
"What are you doing here?" Christine asked as she pulled away.
"To make sure my mother is alright. She's been working herself too hard. She may be the best dance teacher in Paris, but she's getting on in years." Meg peered over Christine's shoulder, noticing my existence. Christine turned so she was standing between us.
"Meg, this is Alanna Belle, Alanna, this is Meg Giry."
"Pleasure." I said.
"And you. And this is my daughter," she ushered a red haired girl into the room that had been hiding behind her skirts. "Adeline."
The girl waved shyly as I smiled at her. Her green eyes glittered up at me.
I smiled at the girl. "Hello," I murmured. I stood, brushing my hands on my skirts. "I should go, Christine, let you have time with your friend."
Christine nodded and I left quietly. I tried to process what Christine had told me just a few moments ago. How could she be jealous? She had a wonderful husband who loved her, and a healthy son.
But I suppose we all want what we can't have.
The world became heavier around me, and I stopped as my vision darkened and my breathing quickened.
Oh god. Not again.
I couldn't breathe, I was drowning...
I woke up in my bed a few seconds later, though I knew it must have been longer than that.
A cold rag was being pressed to my head, and a firm hand squeezed my fingers. I didn't have to look to know it was Erik who sat beside me.
"Hey," he murmured. "Are you okay?"
"Did I pass out again?" I said, propping myself up.
"Yes. A servant brought you here."
"Oh god. This has to stop."
