Author's Note: I've never really been a fan of anything other than EC, but I recently read Phantom by Susan Kay, and I'm feeling a lot of animosity towards Christine. So .. why not give Meg a shot, huh? And I'm giving Mme Giry a new name that I think suits her better .. Elita. Oh, and I suggest you listen to the song that this story is named after, Ribbons Undone by Tori Amos.
Ribbons Undone
By: Aria Danceny
Prologue
My Little Darling
Mme Giry sat before her vanity, running the mother of pearl brush that she'd recieved for her birthday many summers ago when she had been but a young girl through her thick, bright auburn hair. She sighed at her reflection, shaking her head a bit. It seemed only yesterday that she had been a bright eyed prima ballerina, twirling to her heart's content without a care in the world .. well, other than that of poor, dear Erik. But he had never been a worry of hers after she had gotten to know him. She'd expected him to be a trial, but he had turned out to be gentle and quiet most of the time, and for that she was thankful.
She placed the brush back on her vanity, preparing to lie down for the night, when there was a knock at her door. She arched one eyebrow, sighing a bit before calling to the person outside of her room, "Come in." She watched as the doorknob turned and the door gently crept open, smiling with relief when she saw who her visitor was.
"Meg, why aren't you sleeping?" She asked in what she hoped was a stern voice, watching intently as the small blonde closed the door behind her, "You have a big day tomorrow."
"I couldn't, Mama. I'm too excited," Meg smiled, taking a seat beside her mother on the seat before the vanity. Mme Giry smiled, once again remembering just how much of a little girl her daughter still was.
"You must, mon cher," The woman sighed, running her fingers through her daughter's long blonde hair, admiring their reflections in the mirror. Meg looked very much like her mother, it was impossibly to mistake them for anything other than mother and daughter. There were very few traces of her father in Meg, her hair being the only truly noticeable trait.
Meg nodded in resignation, but didn't move to leave. Instead, she sat beside her mother in silence, letting the older woman play with her hair. Eventually, Meg spoke, breaking the silence, "I'm jealous of Christine."
Mme Giry laughed, shaking her head a bit, "I know, Meg. But there is no reason for you to be. She is a singer, you are a dancer. Therefore, there is no competition."
"I know.She's like my sister, and I have no ill wishes for her. I was speaking to her earlier, and she was talking about how she's been tutored by her angel of music, and I can't help but be envious," Meg sighed, watching herself in the mirror, "I wish I had an angel, Mama. Do you think maybe she would share with me?" There was silence for a while, then she followed her question with laughter, shaking her head.
Mme Giry shifted uncomfortably, trying not to show how much she was bothered by what her daughter was saying. Oh, dear, dear Meg, She thought with a frown, If only you knew what it is that you're wishing for, "Perhaps God does not think you need an angel like Christine does. You have at least a mother, my dear. Christine has no mother, nor a father."
The young dancer sighed, nodding, "Yes, I know. But I can't help but wonder how much my dancing would improve if I had help like she does."
"I don't see how your dancing could possibly improve, my little prima," Mme Giry smiled, pressing a kiss to her daughter's cheek, "You astound me with your talent every single time that I witness it. You're much better than I was at your age."
"I couldn't be," Meg sighed, shaking her head, "Everyone talks about how good you were .. how good you are. I can not possibly match that."
"You have matched it and passed it, Meg. Do you not hear people praising you as I do? I must hear at least three times a day about how lucky I am to have a daughter like you .. a daughter with a lovely voice that can dance more gracefully than most people have seen. And your potential. If only you could see how good you are."
Silence once again blanketed the room, and Meg tilted her head over so that it rested on her mother's shoulder. Mme Giry smiled, resting her hand on her daughter's pale, bare shoulder. She could remember a time when Meg was small enough that she could take her onto her lap and hold her there, smelling the scent of lilacs in her daughter's hair, and wonder where life would take her. She'd known she would be a dancing prodigy ever since the young girl was three and had stumbled upon her mother practicing. Mme Giry had tried to send her back to her room, but Meg had stayed, mimicking her mother's moves in a infallible manner.
She sighed and patted Meg's arm twice, "You'd better get your rest now, ma chéri."
The little blonde nodded and kissed her mother's soft cheek, then smiled and rose from the seat, making her way towards the door, "I'll visit you before practice tomorrow, Mama." Her mother nodded, and then Meg opened the door, disappearing out into the hallway.
Mme Giry waited a moment, then glanced towards her closet, "You may come out now, Erik." She waited, not sure if he would admit that he had been present.
Sure enough, the closet door opened, and out he stepped. She watched him in the mirror, measuring him up to what he had once been. Small, frail, full of rage .. he was still quite an angry man, that much was true, but he was no longer thin and gangly. She herself had made sure of that.
"Hello, Elita," He greeted quietly, glancing towards the door, watching it intently. Mme Giry smiled a bit, realizing that he was making sure Meg wasn't still outside.
"You don't have to worry about Meg hearing you. She knows not to spy on me, unlike other people I might mention," She said dryly, a touch of a smile appearing on her face.
Erik shook his head, "I apologize, but I needed to talk to you, and hiding in the closet until I was sure you wouldn't have any other visitors seemed like the best idea at the time. I didn't mean to eavesdrop," He paused, then smirked, "Quite an interesting conversation, though."
Mme Giry rolled her eyes, shaking her head, "It's a regular occurance. She sneaks in here, fishes for compliments, then leaves. I was the same way when I was younger."
"I was referring to the part about Christine. But that was rather humorous as well."
She turned, pointing her finger at him, "Cause any trouble, and I'll be forced to stop helping you. She didn't know what she was talking about, and I doubt she needs any visits from the Opera Ghost. She fears you enough already, thanks to Joseph Buquet and the other chorus girls."
"Came down, Elita," He chuckled, walking over to her and resting his hand on her shoulder, "I know better. And I wouldn't want to frighten little Giry. The shock might just kill her. She is rather tiny, you know. What do you feed her, anyway?"
"As you well know, Erik, Meg is a dancer. Dancers have small builds," She said curtly, smiling wryly as she spoke, "You watched her grow up, just as I did. You must recall the trouble I had with her filching from the kitchens, even after she ate her food as well as mine."
"I do remember that, actually," He nodded, going quiet, as though he were remembering. He spoke again soon, his voice serious this time, "Keep treating her the way you do, Elita. You have no idea what I would give if my mo--" He broke the off the last half of the word, as if saying it caused him physical pain.
Mme Giry frowned, sighing and patting the hand he had on her shoulder, "Perhaps you had better go get your rest. The last thing I want to see is you upset." That was the truth. Whenever Erik grew angry or sad, she seemed to mirror the emotion .. the symptom of so many years together, she supposed, combined with the empathy she'd always had for him.
It took him a moment, but Erik calmed himself back to his cool and calm demeanor, his voice firm as he spoke, "I mean what I said, Elita. Keep treating Meg the way you do. You're a good mother .. stay that way."
She smiled sadly, nodding, "I give you my word, Erik," She paused, her eyes seeming to darken and grow more serious, "Did you bring Miss Daae back tonight safely?"
He stiffened, glancing away from her, "You know I did. There were no complications, and she's now resting safely in her bed. Do you really think that I would harm a hair on her head?"
"No, I don't," She sighed, shaking her head, "Forgive me for asking. It's just that I've always thought of her as my daughter, and I worry about her just as I do Meg. I don't know what I would do if something were to happen to her."
"Very well," He straightened up, moving towards the door, "I shall see you tomorrow night at the performance, correct?"
Mme Giry nodded her head, "Yes. Meg has a rather large part, and I wouldn't miss opening night for the world."
"Tomorrow, then," And with that, he left, leaving Elita Giry to her own thoughts .. and concerns.
Author's Note: Well, what did you guys think? Please, review with any suggestions or comments. It'll inspire me to write the first chapter quicker than I would otherwise.
