Anahid sat on the expansive porch of her daughter and son-in-law's summer estate on the coast. The sun was high against the sky, turning it the bright blue shade of a robin's egg. The waves rolled against the shore with the same placid rhythm as Anahid's murmured "shh" to the cooing babe in her arms.
Her granddaughter.
They were all on holiday, Meg and Erik celebrating their second wedding anniversary. Her little Meg was now the celebrated Baroness de Castelot-Barbezac, much loved after her triumphant return to Paris. She still danced, and danced, despite her new title, lands, wealth, and mysterious husband. This husband inspired much gossip: tall, quiet, and strikingly attractive, even with that slight stiffened half of his face – a stroke? An accident?
It was once said that La Giry and her mother were accomplices of the infamous Phantom, who was rumored to have followed them to America in disguise as their manservant – could it be that turned to love, and in exile they…?
But no, those in Reims said. The Baron was sent away to a monastery when he was young for his health, as he'd been such a sickly child that hardly anyone in their village was allowed to see him in his infancy. He had been in training as a priest, but abandoned that life once his brother died. He took up his family mantle.
He did so with his lovely wife at his side. The fact she was a dancer created only a small scandal. After all, Christine Daae married a viscount. Perhaps society's rules were slowly changing.
Yet how did the two meet? This was never answered to the public's satisfaction. And so the rumor of the Phantom lingered, though the more serious stratum of gossipers merely scoffed at the outlandish theory.
Madame Giry smiled to herself softly. How often it is that the most fantastical story holds the most truth.
She hushed the baby again as a nearby seagull disturbed the child's sleep.
So small. So helpless. She was four months old.
Anahid had at first been in shock that morning over two years ago. Meg bounded into her room in their house in New York, happy tears streaming down her face. "Mother," she beamed. "Erik and I…" then she squealed and threw and herself onto her mother's bed, hugging her ecstatically.
But then the shock melted way. Anahid had known. All this time, she'd known. She'd seen the love grow between them, without fully realizing it. She'd seen her little sparrow change slowly from the frightened, curious creature who shrieked at any sign of the Phantom to pitying him, caring for him; and then ever so slowly that transformed into a strong, steady love.
And Erik: his denial had been fierce and strong throughout. Little Giry was a pest he'd had to look after over the years, and then she decided to intrude on his heartbreak – only to slowly mend that heartbreak with her small hands. Not in any conscious way: Anahid knew firsthand that all it took was Meg's cheerful, frank, and dauntless example to bring light into the life of the world weary.
So how could she withhold her consent? They married shortly before returning to France. There was no question that Madame Giry would make their home hers as well. Neither mother nor daughter could bear the thought of separation.
Madame Giry rocked back and forth in her chair on the porch as the baby drifted back to an easier sleep. Giry squinted into the vast blue sky.
After Meg's return to the Paris stage, amongst thunderous encores, she'd braved a visit to her grandfather. The man was quite old and secluded in his estate just outside Paris.
His vision was failing, and so at first he thought she was her Aunt Melanie come to visit. Then Meg kneeled delicately in front of him from where he sat rigidly in his bedroom arm chair. In her soft little voice, she explained who she was. The old man stared at her incredulously. But through his cataracts, he recognized Julien's strong chin and honest, grave gaze.
And the old man wept.
Although Julien was gone, his daughter forgave his father his elitism, his disownment.
Meg had sobbed the story into her mother's shoulder that night. But they were glad tears, like the tears she'd shed when telling Anahid about her and Erik.
The baby stirred and yawned. She opened her eyes.
"Hello, my love," Anahid whispered to her.
The child grinned and squeaked in pleasure as her grandmother stared at her with a deep, intense love burning in her black eyes.
Julie was her name. Julie Anahid.
Giry recalled how relieved she'd been at Meg's predominantly French look at birth. Now she was pleased that the Persian blood appeared strong in little Julie, from her black hair to her golden-brown complexion.
There was one exception: Julie's eyes. They were blue-gray – like her grandfather's. Her namesake's.
Anahid suddenly closed her eyes, taken back to a courtyard surrounded by yellow roses on a dark blue night. Julien had taken her in his arms for the first time that night. She could feel those arms around her still. Always.
Perhaps enough time has passed. Perhaps I can return to that moonlit courtyard, the scent of roses lingering in the air.
My Julien.
The sweet, tender strain of a violin reached her ears. She opened her eyes.
In front of the grandmother and granddaughter stood Julie's parents on the beach. Erik played his violin for his wife.
Meg smiled. Her hair streamed down her back, the waves of strawberry blond flowing in the slight breeze. Eyes warm with love, she stepped barefoot toward her husband.
While he played, she took off his mask and kissed him.
END
A/N: Short but hopefully a sweet and satisfying conclusion.
This has been a long labor of love. I wrote this as a love letter to the character of Meg Giry. Although she might not have had the most lines in the musical, her actions spoke for her. She was a true friend, showing amazing bravery, strength, and compassion throughout. I love her very much.
But I dedicate this to my faithful readers, whose wonderful, insightful reviews inspired me when writer's block threatened to break me. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU.
I can't believe this is over. I started this in 2014. Three years. It feels longer, and yet at the same time I'm shocked it's been this long. Thank you for staying with me. Love to you all.