Title: le Visage dans le Miroir

Author: Rancid Melody

Summary: A ballerina from Rouen joins the staff of L'Opéra Populaire to prepare to take the position of a soon-retiring Madame Giry – assuming, of course, that 'all goes well.' Is there more to this cryptic reference than the ignorant Mireille Decker realizes?

Disclaimer: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra belongs to all those people who wrote it and stuff. But I reserve the right to stalk Gerard Butler. Until he notices, and gets a restraining order. Upon which I would have to use binoculars. Or something. Um. Heh.

Warning: I have not read the book. I have a Gerard-Phantom. Deal. However, my Gerard-Phantom will not be OOC. I have a hard act to follow, but I shall do my verymost bestest. Also, there's lots of French in here. It's all translated at the end, if you don't mind scrolling down to check. However, most of it is easy to figure out, and what is not is not important to the story. Enjoy!

Chapter Title: L'Ignorance est Douce


I had to admit that L'Opéra Populaire exceeded even my most fantastic delusions of grandeur. Of course, a ballerina only sees the inside of as many theatres as she can get herself kicked out of, and I had been told I was a prize to L'Opera de Rouen. Rouen, however, was not the home of great art. L'Opéra Populaire could hold that title without a smidge of protest from its competitors.

I was to be the future overseer of the ballet rats that nested in its luxurious barracks. Of course, Madame Giry was in charge now, but, when I had been hired, I had been informed that, if all went well, I would be assuming her position when she became of an age where she was not flexible enough to be an example to the girls. Madame Giry had told me that she had originally wished for her daughter, Meg, to follow her, but Meg was young yet – a shy 19 – and aspired for the position of ballerine principale. I, however, had passed my âge principal pour une ballerine, at 27, and was delighted with the prospects – and the salary – which had been offered to me. My dreams of fame had come and gone, and had been recognized, as well as they could have in Rouen, for a peasant girl with no title and no backing other than that of the patrons she charmed. Unfortunately, I had been a rather timid girl – far too prim to seduce some rich aristocrat to speak highly of me before the owners of L'Opera de Rouen.

A position of no small power in the almost infamous L'Opéra Populaire – it was beyond any fantasy I'd ever harbored. The only smudge in the brilliant illumination of my future had to do with le scandale avec le fantôme de l'opéra. But certainly that had smoothed over by now – it'd been nearly two years, after all.

The doorman pulled open the door of my hackney, and I stepped carefully onto the cobblestone street, reaching back for my reticule, before walking towards the smooth, immaculate steps that led to the grand door of L'Opéra Populaire. The aides-serveurs followed obediently behind me, bearing my small trunk.

When the enormous doors were opened, I was dazzled by the expanse of immaculate, gleaming marble.

"Mademoiselle Decker?" A stern-looking, older woman was approaching me, a couple of young women trailing her.

"Oui," I responded. "It is good to see you again, Madame."

"And you, Mireille." She nodded. "You are early. That is fortunate."

"Yes, Madame," I smiled politely. "I did my best to find a fast coach."

"Good." She wore an approving expression. "We are going to begin the practicing Acis et Galatea in two days' time, and I would not mind your input in my finalization of the choreography."

"Of course, Madame," I replied, feeling the smile reach my eyes in anticipation.

"For now, however, we must settle you. Meg, dear?"

A pretty blonde who had been whispering conspiratorially with the other ballerinas straightened at being addressed. "Oui, Maman?"

"Please show Mademoiselle Decker to – I believe I had decided to put her in la chambre à coucher du deuxième soprano…" Madame Giry shot me an apologetic glance. "Yours is not an official position, Mademoiselle," she explained, "and so we have had to improvise."

"Je comprends," I said accommodatingly, giving both Girys an understanding smile.

Meg, however, was looking quite horrified. "Christine's old room?" she whispered.

Madame Giry turned a stony look on her daughter. "It was requested," she spoke through gritted teeth. I looked curiously between them as Meg deflated beneath her mother's glare.

The blonde ballerina's sigh was slightly overdramatic. "Very well," she said softly. "Mademoiselle Decker," she turned to me to offer a shallow curtsy. "If you will follow me, please?"

"Certainly," I replied, nodding, and stepping gently across the resplendent floor behind her. Les aides-serveurs followed us with my trunk.

I was so busy admiring the architecture, even as we passed through the public facilities of the theatre and into the permanent apartments. As we turned countless corners, I worried that I would not be able to find my way back to the bâtiment principal. I voiced this fear to Meg, and she grinned. "It is not so complicated," she explained, "We are taking le chemin plus long. I thought that you might not want to meet everyone before you have even moved in, and it is a busy route."

I nodded, and thanked her for her consideration, as she came to a stop before a nondescript, though thoroughly polished, doorway. Meg procured a ring of keys from her pocket, detached a simple bronze one from the silver loop, and handed it to me. I then turned to the door, unlocked it, and pushed it open, before stepping inside.

"This room is for me?" I breathed the question, astounded.

The floor was hard – a rich, polished cherry-wood laid directly over stone floor. The bed was much bigger than any I'd ever seen – a large queen-size, I would later decide, or a small king – with burgundy down covers and rich gold embroidery with matching pillows. A desk stood opposite it against the wall – not far away, as the room was of only a size slightly larger than I had been accustomed to as a leading ballerina in Rouen – and a polished dresser sat regally beside it.

And taking up the entire third wall, beginning at the foot of the bed and ending beside the dresser, was an enormous, beautiful mirror, with an elaborate gilded frame, carved in lovely excess. At Meg's slow nod, I felt a brilliant smile blossom across my face. "It's amazing!"

The blonde smiled, lifting a hand to shoo the boys who'd carried my trunk back to their other duties. "Shall I leave you to unpack?" She suggested, suddenly looking uncomfortable as her eyes flicked about.

"That would be lovely, thank you," I replied appreciatively, and she quickly took her leave.

I pushed my trunk over towards the chest and began to transfer my belongings into their new resting place, sighing happily to myself. When I finished, which was quickly, I straightened, and took my stationary, pen, and ink out of the trunk before closing it and pushing it against the wall, out of the way. I then placed them on my desk, only to find that something was already there.

I put my things into the topmost drawer and picked up the folded, yellowy parchment, examining the seal – a deviously grinning skull set in blood-red wax.


Translations:

Le Visage dans le Miroir – The Face in the Mirror

L'Ignorance est Douce – Ignorance is Sweet

Ballerine principale – prima ballerina

Âge principal pour une ballerine – prime age for a ballerina

Le scandale avec le fantôme de l'opéra – the scandal with the Phantom of the Opera

Aides-serveurs – busboys

La chambre à coucher du deuxième soprano – the bedroom of the second soprano

Je comprends – I understand

bâtiment principal – main building

le chemin plus long – the longer way

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