Okay, I'm sorry I killed Megan. I don't know why I did. But it makes the story more human, you know? Anyway, I don't own any of the characters except for David, Serenity, and Luke. So, here's Chapter Thirteen. Enjoy!
Kinship
The transition to the opera house life wasn't for a moment difficult for Serenity; her outgoing personality and her quick wit drew many of the other students her age to her, despite the unusual appearance of her mask. For the girl's mother, however, it was painful to see all the changes that had occurred since her disappearance. Old friends had left, sets had changed, and even some of the horses Christine had come to love were sold or dead. The first trip to the sables, however, gave her some hope. For Othello, now well into his twenties, was still alive and strong. He neighed joyously as Christine stepped into the barn, and she rushed to hug her loyal friend. She introduced Serenity to him, and the the girls were seen almost every evening with the horse and his foals, enjoying their time together, riding double on the big stallion's back and laughing.
So, with only a few weeks of training and a few pulled strings, Christine slipped seamlessly back into her previous life, and her daughter followed suit as though she had been born for the drama of the stage.
The years passed by quickly, one season blending into the next. Time was marked only by the passing of shows through the opera house; any given play ran for about two months. Serenity flourished in her new life, learning ballet quickly and proving herself a talented natural vocalist. She gathered many friends, but remained completely loyal to her best and longest friend, Luke.
Luke also adapted to his role in the Opera Populaire, if a bit more hesitantly. He had always been shy, but his curiosity for learning, his passion for instrumental music, and persistent persuasion from Serenity finally paid off, as he became the fastest and most brilliant orchestra pupil of any age. He could play almost every instrument he was presented with, ranging from oboe to cello to baritone. Serenity adored listening to him practice the musical scores to the current operas, and often sang her parts with him as he played. The two were inseparable, save during rehearsals and private tutoring, and were often seen walking side by side down some dark corridor in the cellars when they were young, exploring their vast new world together.
Time passed however, and as it is wont to do, separated the two, on the basis of propriety and growing feelings of awkwardness as they entered their teenage years. By the age of fifteen, the pair were rarely seen together, though they remained close friends.
Serenity began to enjoy her lessons less and less as she grew into a stunning young woman; the girl was pressured into becoming the next star, as her mother had been before her. She had taken to abandoning her lessons, and dodging her instructors, to explore the expansive subterranean cellars. When she was thirteen, she had stumbled upon what seemed like some kind of lair; it had not been touched for years. Serenity felt an immediate connection to the place, and she could not resist teaching herself to play the massive pipe organ she found there. So for three years, she practiced and played; it came naturally to her. By the time she turned sixteen, she was composing her own music. She never told anyone, not even Luke, but continued to play for herself, for the passion of the music she loved.
So she composed, and she played, and it wasn't until three weeks after her sixteenth birthday that anyone discovered her secret obsession.
She had walked into the cavern as usual after abandoning a vocal rehearsal when a mysterious shiver shot up her spine. Looking around warily, she noticed that some of her music sheets were on the ground, as if they had been hastily put down when she walked in. Anger blossomed inside her at the blatant intrusion upon her secret territory, and she spun around, fuming, and called, "Why are you here?"
There was no answer for a long, oppressive moment.
"Are you such a coward that you would hide form a girl in a dress? Show yourself!"
"I am not afraid," a deep, very masculine voice replied calmly from just behind her left shoulder. "A bit curious, perhaps, as to why you are here."
"Why am I here! " she cried, whirling to face the man but finding empty air. "This is my lair! No one else knows it exists!"
"I fear you are mistaken, youngling," he stated, "for this lair belongs to the Phantom of the Opera."
"What are you talking about," the girl asked, incredulous. "What Phantom?" she spat.
"Oh, surely you know him. He lived here long ago, and he left for many years. Some say, even now, that he has returned."
" I don't know what you're talking about!"
"Truly you do! If it were not so, you would not mock him now by wearing that on your face," he said, anger edging into his voice.
"What, the mask?" Serenity asked, shocked. "This is my own. I have worn it as long as I can remember." Fire began to seep into her own voice. "So how dare you mock me?"
"You fool!" cried the figure who walked out from behind the massive set of pipes behind the organ keyboard. The girl gasped and took a step toward the masked man, amazement written upon her face. He stopped suddenly, but she continued to move toward him.
"Why..." she paused, searching for words. "Why do you have this?" she whispered, putting a hand up, as if to touch the porcelain, then pulling it away quickly.
He stared straight into her eyes. "I was born... deformed," he stated darkly. He had no idea why he was telling this stranger his life story. "My own mother could not bear the sight of me, so I was given a mask to cover ny hideous face." He sighed softly.
"Oh, God. Like this?" the girl said, abruptly removing her own mask.
The man took a step backward, is eyes filled with amazement, and pity. "God have mercy," he whispered. She replaced the mask, and glanced up at him.
"My mother gave me my mask, too, but it was to protect me from what others might say if they saw my true face. I couldn't imagine growing up without my mother's support."
"Your... mother," he said slowly, noticing her features for the first time. The mask, the gold-flecked eyes, the ebony hair, her height... "Who is she?"
"Christine, monsieur. Christine Daae." She saw something flicker in his gaze.
"And your father?"
The young woman averted her eyes suddenly. "Mamma never speaks of him, and I don't ask. As far as I know, he doesn't exist."
"And, your name?"
"Serenity, sir, but everyone usually calls me Senna." She glanced up at him again, her eyes showing a bright, calculating look. She seemed to have been puzzling over something, and to have decided that she had found the correct answer. "And you, sir?
The man sighed again. "Erik," he said finally.
"Ah. I'm glad to have met you, though you claim to have rights to my sanctuary, 'Phantom of the Opera'."
"Yes," he said quickly, "this is where I lived more than sixteen years ago. Something happened, which changed my mind about this life." Serenity quickly noted that her mother had said the exact same thing eight years earlier. "I left. I never planned on coming back, but I never could forget the life I led here, safe and deep underground, creating dark music. Something seems to be calling me back." He stopped speaking, for the girl was giving him the calculating look again.
"Monsieur," she said after a few seconds of silence, "I believe I am your daughter."
He sighed softly. "Yes, I know. What gave it away?"
"Our appearances, the masks, the passion for music. Mostly the masks."
"Yes, I thought so. God," he said, sitting down hard on the organ bench, "how could she not have told me? Damn it Christine! She ran off, without a word, and I could not find her! A daughter! Sixteen years! And I never knew. Merciful God," he whispered.
Serenity sat down next to him quietly and hesitantly took his hand. He looked up at her, surprised, but permitted the familiarity. "There were two of us, actually. Two daughters. Twins," she said quietly. He looked at her again.
"Twins?" he said, shocked. She nodded.
"Yes. But Megan died when we were eight. She had an illness no one could cure."
"Oh, God," Erik half-sobbed, voice filled with sorrow, "a child who died before ever I knew she lived."
"It's all right," Serenity said gently. "We're still connected in spirit. I can sense her; I know she still lives in me." She smiled softly. "Mamma and I have gotten over the loss."
"Your mother," he said, so many emotions lacing his voice that Serenity could not tell them apart. "I suppose I need to speak with her." He stood up, and turned to look at his child. "I would prefer if you stay here."
"I understand," she said, and turned to face her beloved keyboard. "Be gentle!" she called as she heard her father walk away. "She still loves you!"
He paused for a second, then walked over the threshold, to face the woman he had not been able, for sixteen infinite years, to push out of his mind and heart.
