Well this fic did better than I expected. :D I'm glad you all enjoyed the first chapter, especially you Scar. You'll have to make sure you're logged in when you review this time, and wait until after class. ;p

Anyway, here's Chapter 2. Quick shout-out to ellymango for helping me with the framework and ideas for this chapter, as well as for letting me use her 'bleating lamb' metaphor for Camille. Time's really run away from me this year, so I don't know when the third and final chapter will be up. Whenever I post it, I assure you it'll be worth the wait. (;

I normally do review replies at the start of each chapter, but since this is only a small-scale fic and a number of those reviews were simply named 'Guest', I'll just say a huge belated Christmas thank you to you all. :)

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Chapter 2

Throughout the night, the tender twirls of crystal ballerinas had risen to a roaring symphony, the storm of the season at last making its grand appearance. By morning, all Paris was buried in soft white snow that crunched underfoot, and gave the city a mystical glow in the pale morning sun. Most had yet to venture from the warmth of their beds, but those who had held no resentment to the bitter cold. Only hope and joy for the time to be spent with those they held dear.

At the Le Haut household, a single door creaked open in the servant's quarters, slow and steady so as not to wake the young child sleeping inside. Closing the door with as much – if not more – care, Odette shuddered against the icy chill, willing herself on as her weak ankle prepped for an almighty scream. She barely made it three steps when the door adjacent to her own swung open, but for once she was met with a warm, friendly smile.

"Odette. You're up early," Genevieve stated as she stepped into the winter air.

She shrugged a shoulder in response, "Force of habit…"

"Well, either way, Merry Christmas." Standing beside her, Genevieve rubbed her hands together in an effort to warm herself. "Goodness, it's cold out here. Were you and Félicie warm enough last night?"

"For the most part. Félicie ended up crawling into my bed during the night." Odette couldn't help but smile at the memory, how she was instantly woken by Félicie sneaking under the covers with her, only to promptly fall asleep beside her; her first real taste of motherhood. "I just came out to get some firewood."

Odette turned to walk away, but was immediately stopped by a hand of her shoulder.

"Oh no you won't. That's solid ice down there," Genevieve warned, pointing out the large patch of ice stretched across the courtyard. "I won't have you injuring yourself on Christmas. Or any day for that matter."

"It'll alright Genevieve, I'll be careful."

"No, I'll hear nothing of it. I'll go," her employer insisted, her tone firm and unshifting. "And from now on, if you need anything, just let me know."

Odette sighed in defeat, but gave her a grateful smile, "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

With that, Genevieve turned to walk away. Odette went to do the same, but stopped as a thought popped into her mind, "You wouldn't happen to have any jam I could borrow, would you?"

"But of course, go on in," the woman smiled, gesturing towards the door. "Help yourself to whatever you need."

Odette smiled back, then went inside and walked to the kitchen. After a few minutes of searching, she managed to find what she was looking for, and returned to her rooms to find a neat stack of firewood just inside the door, and her new daughter still lost in a peaceful sleep. Quiet as a mouse, she busied herself with unpacking her things and getting breakfast ready, every so often casting a glance at the girl who had stolen and mended her heart.

At long last, Félicie stirred in her sleep, eyelids fluttering as she started to wake.

"Well you certainly took your time," Odette teased as she knelt beside the bed, using her cane for support. The corner of Félicie's mouth twitched – the closest she could come to a laugh in her current state – and Odette found herself running her hand over the girl's ginger hair. "Merry Christmas."

Félicie smiled back at her, her eyes now open and shining like stars, "Thanks Mum."

Odette's heart skipped a beat at the name – one she thought she'd never be so blessed to hear – before she got back on her feet. "Breakfast's ready."

Sitting up in bed, Félicie stretched her tired limbs. As she did, a familiar smell filled her nostrils, and her eyes lit up in surprise and hopeful excitement, "Is that-"

"Baguettes? Fresh from the oven."

"Really?" the red-head beamed, tugging on her shoes and rushing to the table.

"Well, warmed up really," Odette admitted, setting the jam and a plate of warm baguette slices on the table. "I didn't have time to make them from scratch… I know it's not much…"

"Are you kidding? I love it," Félicie smiled, hugging her tightly. Odette instantly smiled back, holding her close, before the pair sat down to eat.

"Today's going to be the best," the young dancer stated between mouthfuls, bursting with excitement. "I can't wait for the party tonight."

Odette's gut clenched at the mere mention of the party, but she managed to fake a smile. "Slow down Félicie. I still need to find something to wear."

"True…" Félicie thought for a few moments as she ate, then practically shot out of her chair. "Camille! I bet her aunt has something you could use!"

Stopping just long enough to give her new mother a quick hug, she dashed out the door, grabbing another slice of baguette as she went.

Though she initially laughed at her girl's antics, Odette soon felt her unease set back in. She'd told Félicie she would go, and she would keep that promise, but that didn't mean she felt any better about it. While she finally had someone she could call her family, there was something – or someone – else on her mind this year; something she was far less willing to face.

Finishing her own breakfast, Odette made her way over to her boss's house, where Camille and Félicie were already gushing over plans.

"- It's a little plain for my taste, but it'll look perfect on you." Camille paused mid-rant, giving Odette a small – almost sheepish – smile. "Good morning, Odette."

Before she could even reply, Genevieve appeared beside her. "I hear you're in need of a dress. Come with me."

Odette sighed quietly to settle her nerves, then followed her out the room.

As soon as they left, Camille smiled at Félicie, "I cannot believe you managed to convince her."

"I know! I'm so excited!"

The blonde chuckled at her enthusiasm, then lightly nudged her shoulder, "Come on… I want to show you one of my traditions."

The young ballerina smiled, then followed her into a large sitting area, pleasantly warm from the glowing fireplace. Smoothing her skirt, Camille sat down on the soft carpet, taking a pen and blank piece of paper out of her pocket and placing them on a wooden board in front of her.

"So," Félicie started, curiously sitting beside her. "What is your tradition?"

Camille took a moment before answering. "I don't know if Odette told you this, but my father – Edward Le Haut – he's died when I was four. So, every year at Christmastime, I'd write him a letter and burn it in the fireplace. It's my way of keeping his memory alive…"

Félicie smiled sympathetically, "It's a beautiful idea."

"I usually do this at Odette's place," Camille stated casually, touching her pen to the paper. "It was the one place I couldn't guarantee Mother wouldn't look."

At the mention of Régine Le Haut, memories from the previous evening flooded through Félicie's mind. Camille had already told them she'd been arrested, but that was all.

"Hey… With everything that happened last night, I forgot to ask you…" she began, carefully choosing her words. "Are you ok? About your mother?"

"Well, controlling as she was, watching her be arrested for attempted murder on Christmas Eve isn't the most ideal situation…" Camille admitted. "But, the way I see it, she took a pretty hard fall when that scaffolding came down. She's a bit battered and bruised with a few broken bones, but ultimately, I'm just grateful she's still alive…"

The red-headed girl released a breath she hadn't realised she was holding, "That's good."

Camille nodded in agreement, then started her annual letter. Out of respect, Félicie refrained from reading the letter, instead watching the way Camille wrote. Each letter flowed beautifully into the next, every sentence evenly spaced and grounded to invisible lines. It was a hundred times better than what they were taught at the orphanage, which was really just showing them how to form basic letters.

After a while, a question began to play at her mind. Though she did so with great hesitation, she eventually decided to ask, "Do you remember him?"

Camille paused, sighing deeply, but didn't seem too upset.

"Not much… I know what he looks like from pictures, and I remember bits and pieces, but mostly all I have are the stories Aunty tells me…" she explained. "What about you? Do you remember your father?"

Félicie shook her head, "Never knew him. I only really have one clear memory of my mother and I don't think she was wearing a ring, so I guess my father just took off before I was born..."

"I'm sorry..."

"It's ok." The room went silent for a minute, before Félicie spoke once more. "What's it like? Having a father?"

"It's a lot of things… Your father is someone who teaches you right from wrong, and stands by you even when you make mistakes. He's someone who helps you find your place in the world, but stay's close so he's there when you need him. He's a little strict at times, but it's only because he wants what's best for you. And above all, he has faith in you, even when you don't have faith in yourself."

Félicie simply smiled at her words, "Sounds like you had a pretty great one…"

"Yeah, I did…" Camille smiled in return, then went back to her letter, "Your name; the first 'e' is accented, right?"

Félicie hummed in agreement, the girl beside her giving her a quick 'thank you' before she continued. Even without trying to read what Camille was writing, Félicie clearly noticed the way she repeatedly broke from her cursive flow, pausing just long enough to add a sloped dash above several of her 'e's.

"Why do you need to know how to spell my name?"

"My Christmas Day letter to my father is my chance to tell him about all that's happened over the year. I'm sure he'd love to hear about my first real friend."

She could have said just about anything else, and she'd still have expected it more than that. Yet, however surprising, the words brought a small smile to Félicie's face. "I'm your first friend?"

Much to her surprise, Camille seemed suddenly nervous, as if fearful she'd crossed some invisible line. "Well, I hope you are… I know I said some pretty horrible things to you, but I'd like to be your friend…"

Félicie's smile widened, "I'd like that too."

Camille responded with a heartfelt beam, then went back to her letter. After a few more lines and a carefully penned 'Merry Christmas', she signed her name at the bottom, smiling in satisfaction.

"There, done," Camille stated, talking to herself more than anyone as she picked up the completed letter. "Now I just need to let the ink dry a little bit…"

Félicie watched her for a few moments as she fluttered the paper in her hand, before noticing something on the back.

"Hold on…" Using her hands to steady herself, she craned her neck to get a closer look, confirming her suspicions, "Is that- me?"

"Huh?" Camille turned over the letter, revealing a pencilled image of Félicie's face and neck, drawn to the finest detail. Every feature was crafted to near perfection, not one hair out of place. The sole fault one could possibly hope to find was the arrangement of her freckles, and even that wasn't too far off.

A bashful smile tugged at her lips, "Oh, yes… My mother's always put pressure on me to be a ballerina, but I've always had a thing for art. Every Christmas, when I write my letter to my father, I always do a drawing on the back. He used to love it when I drew for him…"

The red-head smiled in return, before Camille turned to look at the glowing fireplace. Taking a breath, she allowed a heavy sigh to spill from her body, then walked over to the open flames. Her movements slow and cautious, she carefully dropped the letter into the fire, then sat beside Félicie as they watched it burn.

After a minute, Félicie spoke, "You know, it's almost a shame to let it burn… It was really good."

Camille openly laughed, as though she'd never before heard something so amusing, "What, that? Please, I just free-handed that last night. It's not even one of my best."

Félicie looked at her in surprise, her head tilting slightly as her eyebrows raised, "It's not?"

Getting up, Camille walked over to a suitcase on the sofa and began rummaging through it. "Sooner or later, most of my drawings ended up in Odette's fireplace. But my favourite ones, I mailed to my aunty. She held onto them for safe-keeping."

Finally finding what she was looking for, she pulled out a leather folder and handed it to her friend, "You're welcome to look if you like…"

Opening the folder, Félicie pulled out a small stack of papers and began looking through them. Sure enough, each one held a drawing of some kind, all done to absolute perfection.

"Wow, Camille, these are great," she smiled. "How long have you been doing this?"

"Pretty much my whole life…" the blonde replied, her pale cheeks turning a delicate pink. "But I started taking it seriously when I was six."

Félicie handed the pile back to her, "Do you have a favourite?"

Camille smiled widely, as though she'd been waiting for that exact question, and began flipping through them, "It's was autumn, my mother was out late at the restaurant, and we'd had a bad storm that day. Mother was having guests in the morning so she forced Odette to stay up and sweep the courtyard. I was bored and couldn't sleep, so I decided to take the opportunity."

Just as the words left her lips, she pulled out a single paper and showed it to her.

"This is actually a remake. Aunty always buys me a set of coloured pencils for Christmas, but they're rather expensive, so I made sure to keep them far away from Mother."

Félicie could only stare at the drawing, completely lost for words. The paper showed the courtyard from above with a velvet night sky, the moon – a single spotlight – cascading down on Odette's pale silhouette as she seemed to dance with her broom, coloured leaves swirling around her feet.

"Camille, this is beautiful. I've only ever seen things like this in storybooks…"

Camille smiled at the drawing, admiring her work, "Between you and me, Odette's always been one of my favourite subjects to draw. Even with her limp, she manages to do everything with such grace and elegance. Plus she's naturally beautiful; she doesn't have to spend an hour on hair and make-up like my mother does."

Félicie briefly remembered Mérante saying almost the same thing the day he found out who she was, before another thought occurred to her, "Is that why your mother hated her so much?"

"My mother had many reasons to hate Odette," she corrected. "But, according to my aunty, there were three in particular. Firstly, she was jealous of her beauty. Second, she was so obsessed with everything being clean that nothing Odette did was ever good enough."

"And the third?"

"My parents were an arranged marriage, and after Odette had her accident, my father went out of his way to help her. But my mother is exceptionally paranoid; somehow she took him trying to make things easier for his recently crippled employee as him having an affair with her."

Silence. Camille turned to her new friend, almost laughing at the blank expression on her face, "I know. I don't get it either."

Unable to form a proper response, Félicie fell back on dry humour, "Ok, note to self: never become paranoid…"

She half expected Camille to give her a questioning glance, but was instead met with a fit of giggles, "I know, right?"

The pair quickly burst into hysterics, before falling into a comfortable silence.

Félicie repositioned herself on the floor, swinging her legs round so she could hug her knees, "I ran into Mérante after he found out my secret; he told me about Mum. He said she was the best of her generation…"

Camille nodded in agreement, "Aunty says that too."

"I wish I could've seen her. I mean, sure, I've seen her do a few twirls while she sweeps, but…" Félicie sighed quietly, resting her chin on her knee. "It's not the same…"

Camille said nothing at first, unsure how to respond. Glancing around the room, her eyes again fell on the drawing of Odette, then lit with excitement as an idea took root in her mind.

"Can I… draw you something special? For Christmas…" the blonde asked, pulling a small rectangular tin and a blank piece of paper from the leather folder.

Félicie smiled a little, her spirits lifted by the request, "Sure, if you want to…"

Camille smiled knowingly as she opened the tin, selecting a finely sharpened pencil, "I know just the thing."

Odette sat on the sofa in what was, until yesterday, her former employer's room, tracing circles into the plush cushions with her fingertips. Genevieve stood just four paces away, her back turned to her as she rummaged through her sister's closet. She wasn't sure what the woman was looking for, but with every silent moment that passed, she could feel herself getting more and more anxious about the night ahead, especially about–

"Now don't you fret, my dear," Genevieve called over her shoulder as she pushed dress after dress along the rack. "I'm certain there'll be something in here you can use."

Odette sighed, trying to sound calm, "Listen, Genevieve, I really appreciate all the trouble you're going to, but I just wouldn't feel comfortable wearing one of her dresses…"

"It's quite alright Odette. After everything my sister put you through, you deserve a night out," her new employer assured her. "Besides, most of these are dresses I leant her, she wore once, then never gave me back."

Nervous as she was, Odette placed a hand over her mouth, trying in vain to stifle a laugh.

Genevieve smiled a little, muttering just loud enough for Odette to hear, "Anyone would think she's the younger sister..."

The moment passed as quickly as it appeared, and soon enough, Odette was back to a state of worry. All the while, Genevieve simply continued through the extensive closet of dresses, combing through each one. "No. No. Heavens, no…"

Odette sighed, unable to take the mounting pressure, "Let's just face it, Genevieve. We're not going to find anything…"

At last turning around, Genevieve looked at her in concern, noting the way she anxiously hugged her waist. Sighing softly, she walked over to the sofa and sat down beside her.

"Odette… You may not be the most social person I've ever met, but you're anything but shy. And it's not like you won't know anyone there…" Noticing the way she tensed at her words, Genevieve gently placed a hand on her forearm. "What's really troubling you?"

Odette sighed, knowing full well there was no avoiding the question. Régine may not have cared about her feelings, but Genevieve was nothing like her sister, except when it came to being persistent.

"It's Louis…"

"Mérante? From the opera?"

Odette nodded, "He kissed me last night, during Félicie's debut…"

"Did he now?" Genevieve's eyebrow arched, a little too pleased with her answer.

"It wasn't like that…" Odette insisted, stumbling to explain herself. "It was just a little peck on the cheek. It was nothing that special…"

Her employer chuckled, clearly unconvinced, "If that were true you wouldn't be blushing about it. But go on, I'm listening…"

"When we first met, I only knew him as this remarkable dancer that every young girl fell in love with. I used to tell myself I was better than that, but soon enough, I looked at him as though he hung the stars in the skies…" Odette admitted, trying to ignore the warmth in her cheeks. "After my accident, I thought if I broke his heart then and there, he'd move on and find someone better. But last night, after all these years, he kissed my cheek and looked at me the way he did back then. I don't know what he wants, and I'm terrified of… well, whatever it is he's looking for…"

Genevieve nodded, but asked cautiously, "Are you sure that's it, or is there something else you're afraid of?"

Odette froze. She wasn't sure what answer her employer was looking for, but she desperately hoped it wasn't what she thought it was. "I… I don't, know what you're talking out…"

"I think you do…" Genevieve gently rested a hand on her shoulder, as though she were talking to a wounded fawn, "I know, Odette… I have done for a while…"

The room went silent, if only for a moment, before Odette shuddered a gasp. No… No, it couldn't be. There was no way she could've uncovered her terrible secret. She'd been so careful… Hadn't she?

"Was I that obvious?" she stammered, her blue eyes wide with fear.

"No. No, not at all," Genevieve assured her. "Honestly, the only reason I noticed was because I have a friend who suffers the same thing."

Odette went deathly pale, another horrifying thought passing through her mind, "Régine, does she-"

The older woman shook her head, "Trust me, if she knew, everyone would. I've heard what she thinks about women who can't bear children…"

Odette looked down at those words, her eyes brimming with tears.

"When did you find out?"

"Just after my accident… I was staying with a close friend of my father's; he's a doctor, so…"

Genevieve simply nodded, "I thought so. You weren't the best at hiding it back then…"

Odette sniffled, losing her battle not to cry. She didn't really want to know, but something made her ask, "What gave it away?"

"There were a lot of things that caught my attention. The dullness in your eyes, the odd days you seemed to be in more pain than usual, the way you tensed up whenever Régine neglected Camille…" Genevieve sighed, lightly squeezing Odette's shoulder, "I'd had my suspicions for a while, but the thing that really confirmed it to me was… that one day with Camille…"

Odette placed a hand over her mouth, her tears overflowing as she gave a broken sob. She didn't need to ask which day she was referring to; she already knew all too well. Edward had been away on business, leaving Régine – who was too stubborn to admit she needed help – to handle both the restaurant and a cranky, teething Camille. By the time that day arrived, Régine was so tired that she often fell asleep in her chair, leaving her little one to cry until someone else took the initiative to see to her; something that made her blood boil in light of her own infertility.

That day, she'd been folding the linens when Camille started crying, bleating for her mother like a newborn lamb, but once again, Régine never came. Finally pushed to breaking point, she'd crept into the young Le Haut's nursery and sat beside the cradle, gently rocking it with her foot as she went on with her work. Sure enough, the soothing motion was all it took to calm the infant, happy just to have someone there. Just as she'd gotten up to leave, Camille managed to push one of her toys – a plush donkey from her father – between the cradle bars, sparking a fresh wave of tears from the lonely child. Setting the basket of linens aside, she walked back and picked up the toy. But as she returned it to the cradle, Camille managed to grasp her finger, cooing softly as her eyes pleaded to be picked up. Every impulse within her told her to do so, but she knew all too well why she couldn't. She didn't notice Genevieve walk in the room, nor did she stick around to ask how long she'd been there, simply dashing from the room as she fought back tears.

Odette was brought back to the present by Genevieve hugging her shoulders, but made no effort to restrain her tears. In all the years since she'd found out, she'd never confided in anyone. After so many years of silent suffering, it felt nice to have a shoulder to cry on…

"So, let me guess; you're afraid that Louis is looking to make you his wife, and that you'll one day have to tell him that-"

"That I'm nothing but a broken little girl who doesn't deserve his affection," Odette interjected, tears of shame streaming down her face.

Genevieve remained silent for quite some time, carefully planning her response, then handed her a neatly-pressed handkerchief, "My friend said that once too..."

Odette looked up as she took the handkerchief, bringing it to her tear-stained face.

"She was born into a quite wealthy family with a lot of upper-class connections. One of these families had a son her age, so in the interest of 'maintaining wealth', their parents brought them together as often as possible in hopes they'd fall in love."

Odette sniffled, wiping away the last of her tears, "Did they?"

"Yes. Very much so… A few weeks after they announced their engagement, she came to me in tears, wanting to talk. We went up to my room, and she told me his parents had started making comments about them continued his bloodline, and she was terrified because she was almost 17 and still hadn't had her first period." Genevieve paused, a tear of her own rolling down her cheek at the bitter memory, "Later that week, I snuck her out to a doctor's appointment myself, sat with her while he assessed her, and held her as she cried when he confirmed her fears."

The former ballerina bit her lip, reluctant to fall into another wave of salty tears. She hadn't been so lucky; she'd had no warning, no mother to explain how it worked, no inkling that her light, erratic bleeds were anything to be concerned about. The truth had come down on her as cruel and as suddenly as the ceiling that killed her father, shattering the only thing she'd managed to salvage from the fire – her hopes for a future, and of building a family of her own.

"She was so ashamed and embarrassed, and terrified her fiancé would stop loving her when he found out… But eventually, I made her see that if he left her over this, it just proved his feelings weren't genuine to begin with."

"Did she tell him?"

"In time... When she was ready, she asked him to meet her somewhere quiet and they had a very long talk about it." A small smile tugged at the woman's lips, "Funnily enough, it was then they realised neither of them actually wanted children; they were just under stress from all the pressure their parents were giving them."

"What happened to them?"

Genevieve chuckled, clearly knowing something she didn't. "Well, you must keep in mind I'm using them purely as proof that I understand, not an example to follow…"

Odette raised a questioning eyebrow, and Genevieve smiled in amusement.

"Changed their names, eloped to America and joined a traveling circus."

Odette couldn't help but laugh a little, torn between amusement, bewilderment and utter confusion.

"I don't know, I don't understand it either…" Genevieve chuckled. "I'm the only one that knows they're even alive. Albeit only just; they've both faced death on numerous occasions."

Taking a breath to calm herself, Genevieve took Odette's hand in hers, "But at the end of the day, they have each other and they're happy; that's the most important thing. If someone truly loves you, they'll do so regardless of your scars…"

Odette smiled shyly, fully aware of the true meaning behind her words.

"As for you with Louis, my advice would be to just… take it slow. You don't have to tell him anything until it gets serious."

"And… if he rejects me?"

Genevieve just smiled, gently squeezing her hand, "Then at least you'll have your little girl…"

Odette looked up in surprise, trying to process what she'd just heard.

"Félicie told us you were going to adopt her," Genevieve explained. "It was practically the first thing she said when she burst in this morning."

Odette felt a single tear roll down her cheek, but she knew it wasn't from fear or sadness. After so many years of heartache, she'd grown to believe she was no longer worthy or capable of being saved, yet Félicie had done all that and more. She'd given her back a sense of purpose and a reason to smile each morning, and uncovered a side of herself she'd forgotten was there. She restored her hope, and brought light back to her life. But above all else, she'd given her something no man ever could – the chance to live those distant dreams of motherhood. And no matter what, she'd forever treasure her precious ray of sunshine…

"I'm so lucky to have her…"

"Yes, you are," the woman beside her smiled. "And she's going to be so happy to have you there tonight."

Odette's smile faltered, still slightly nervous about the prospect of going. It'd been so long for her, and the first step was always the hardest.

Genevieve seemed to notice the lingering discomfort, offering her a reassuring smile, "Look, why don't I come with you tonight? That way you won't feel so alone."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. Besides, I can't ask you to look after Félicie, Victor and Camille."

Odette smiled, the last of her stress melting away, "Thank you, Genevieve."

"You're most welcome," Genevieve smiled, then looked back towards the closet. "Now, where to find you a dress at such short notice..."

As if on que, someone knocked on the door.

"Come in."

The door immediately opened, Camille walking in with Félicie. "Hey Aunty."

"Hello girls," Genevieve greeted, smiling at her niece and her new friend. "Having fun?"

"You bet," Félicie smiled, bouncing onto the sofa next to Odette. "Mum, you have to see what Camille made me for Christmas."

Félicie handed her a piece of paper, and Odette could only look down in amazement. There on the page was an image of herself and Félicie, dancing together in full costume. She couldn't quite place their poses, but she immediately recognised their costumes as being those of Berthe and Giselle respectively, knowing them better than the back of her hand.

"Camille… You drew this?" she breathed in awe, the girl blushing in response.

"Darling, this is wonderful. Is that Giselle?"

"Uh-hmm... Young Giselle and her mother," Camille smiled proudly at her aunt. "Félicie mentioned it's Odette's favourite ballet."

"So, any luck finding Mum a dress?"

Genevieve's face lit up, and she smiled to herself as she again looked at the drawing, "Actually, I think I know just the dress…"

Being Christmas Day in the City of Love, Dreams and various other things – just not pigeons, apparently – the usually-busy streets were as good as empty, most citizens either at home or at Church. That being said, the odd coach could still be seen pushing through the fallen snow, each driven by a mid- to old-aged man as he went about his rounds.

One said coach came to a steady stop, jolting as it did so, in front of a house in the better side of Paris, far smaller than most of its kind. After securing the reins and praising his horse on a job well done, the coachman got down from his seat and opened the door, carefully helping his young, crippled passenger down to the sidewalk.

Odette winced as her right foot touched the ground, clutching her cane in one hand and the coachman's arm in the other, but managed to find her footing. "Thank you."

By this point, Genevieve had helped herself and the girls out of the coach, and presented the man with a generous tip.

Tipping his hat to them, he climbed up to the driver's seat, calling back to them as he urged his horse onwards, "Merry Christmas, Mademoiselles."

Genevieve chuckled, opening her front door to let them in, "Ladies…"

Félicie followed her inside, Camille and her new mother close behind, and looked around at the spacious interior and standard furnishings, "Huh… Somehow I pictured it bigger…"

"Unlike my mother, Aunty chooses not to boast her wealth," Camille explained. "But seriously, what are we doing here?"

"You'll see…" the woman teased. "Follow me."

Gesturing for them to follow, Genevieve led them to a room on the second floor, then opened the door to let them in. One look inside was enough to tell that this particular room had had many functions in its lifetime, though it currently served as a make-shift sewing room. Most notable was a large collection of drawings – clearly done by Camille – pinned against the side wall, many appearing to be outfits or costumes of some kind.

"Whoa… You're really into this art thing…" Félicie remarked as she looked at the various drawings, earning a giggle from Camille.

"Camille's taken up quite an art for fashion design in recent years. Last time she came to visit me, she drew this gorgeous red evening dress," Genevieve explained as she walked over to a covered mannequin on the other side of the room. "I loved it so much, I just couldn't help myself..."

Grabbing the black fabric, Genevieve carefully pulled it away to reveal her work, then turned to smile at her niece, "What do you think?"

Camille gasped in delight upon seeing the dress – her dress – adorning the mannequin. True to her original design, the fitted bodice was made of velvet, with elbow-length sleeves and a wide v-neckline decorated with black lace and intricate beading. The floor-length skirt had an almost Flamenco-esque style to it, covered with short ruffles from the hips down, as though it was made from hundreds of swan feathers dyed a brilliant ruby red.

"Aunty…" Camille breathed, circling the mannequin once as she smiled. "It's even better than I pictured it…"

"It's lovely, Camille," Odette chimed in, causing the blonde's smile to grow even wider.

Genevieve stood next to her niece, thinking out loud as she made random gestures with her hand. "I mean, it's not made-to-measure; may need taking in a bit. But, with a little work-"

"Wait, you mean…" Catching her drift, Camille turned to her aunt, suddenly uncertain. "Aunty, are you sure about this? It's the first of my dresses we've actually made, it's probably ahead of its time, it's going to be seen by dozens of people…"

"Camille, darling, you worry too much," Genevieve smiled, lightly hugging her shoulders. "It's a beautiful dress, and let's not forget you designed it with Odette in mind."

"You really think people will like it?"

"Of course they will. Odette, would you mind standing over there so we can get a better look?"

Propping her cane against a nearby chair, Odette walked over and stood behind the dressed mannequin. Even without trying it on, it was apparent to all that the dress needed work; a bit too generous around the waist with sleeves that didn't quite reach. But those were alterations well within their limits, especially with the hours they had at their disposal. Minor flaws aside, the outfit complimented her figure beautifully, the luxurious red fabric perfectly suited to her fair skin tone.

Genevieve hummed in satisfaction, admiring hers and her niece's handiwork, "Yes, I dare say this'll do nicely…"

Camille put her hands over her cheeks, index fingers pinching the bridge of her nose as she searched for a reason to not go through with this. "Don't love it. Don't love it. Don't love it…"

Félicie came to stand beside her, stating simply, "You love it."

"I do love it. Oh, but it needs- something…" Casting a quick glance around the room, Camille dashed over to a large trunk, rummaging through it before racing out the room altogether, "Aunty! Where's the black lace?!"

Genevieve chuckled at her niece's antics as she stood beside Odette, a knowing smile on her face, "This is going to be a long day."

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

There, finally finished… I tried so hard to get this up for Christmas; so much so that I ended up sitting at my laptop in tears at 2am the day after. I'm sure someone's going to tell me it's 'not that important', but with all the emotional stress of looking after my dementia-suffering mother, it takes very little to set me off sometimes…

Anyway, I hope this is ok. :) Since I didn't do the best job explaining it, my idea behind Camille's dress was that it would be an 1880's style evening gown inspired by what we today would know as the Peacock Dress in 'Love Never Dies', which is set roughly around 1900. I did try searching 'fashion in 1880's France', but you'd be surprised how hard it is to find images of dresses from the era, not just 'in the style of'. Oh well, I'll just leave it at that and let you make of it what you will. XD

Ok, that's all for now. Again, I don't want to make any promises as to when the last chapter will be up, but I'll try to make it as soon as possible. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and look forward to hearing your thoughts. (;