Chapter Text
Waking up in her dorm room that morning, Meg started her morning rituals. As she sat at her vanity, she realized that she was getting tired of this old room. She turned to reflect on the space. Without Christine here it held little significance these days. It was convenient living inside the Opera House, but this room was small.
It would be nice to have her own home. A living area, kitchen, water closet, and bedroom… maybe even a balcony.
Her tiny dorm window mocked her.
With sudden desire, she opened her drawer where she stashed all her money. Surveying its contents, she resolved, determined to get out of this place.
-
“Maman, I would like to move out.”
Antoinette’s eyes widened just slightly at Meg’s sudden announcement.
“What for?”
Her daughter replied, “My room is too small. I am one and twenty. I think I deserve more.” Meg crossed her arms, looking quite mature.
The protective part of her wanted to lash out in dismay. If Meg was outside the theatre, then it would be harder to keep watch over her.
“It will be costly,” warned Antoinette.
“It’s fine, I am careful with my money. You know this." Meg thrummed her fingers along the dining table. "I would find somewhere suitable within a reasonable rate.”
Thinking this over, Antoinette replied, “You would have to walk to the Opera House to and from every day.”
Holding an uncharacteristic seriousness, Meg's eyes narrowed, her lips drew into a thin line. “Walking in fresh air is good for the mind. Sometimes I think it’d be nice having some separation from here. All I do is live and breathe this place.”
At first, she offended at her daughter's words, but she calmed her rising emotions. Meg was old enough to start making her own decisions. Still though, it was strange how she was acting this morning, almost as if something had come over her. A mother's intuition was never off...
“If that is what you want, darling, I can assist you on your day off tomorrow to find a place.”
As if a gas switch flipped on, Meg gave a brilliant smile, hugging her. “Thank you so much!”
Antoinette smiled somberly. Would she still see her often?
-
With her mother's help, Meg found a place within walking distance of the Opera House. A flat situated on the third floor of a building located on the Rue de la Victoire.
In a couple hours, she packed her life's possessions; all she owned was clothing, the vanity, and some small keepsakes. Knowing how sparse her place would be, Maman purchased her some pieces of furniture, and Meg had intentions to swipe some forgotten, dusty things from the storerooms. All that was left to do was the most important thing.
The next morning, she approached the ragtag group of sceneshifters and stagehands who were chattering amongst each other in the backstage area.
She strode up with purpose to the men, flashing her most dazzling smile, greeting cheerily, "Good morning, Messieurs!"
Guillame, Louis and the many other familiar faces that made up the backstage cast brightened noticeably at her engagement.
“Well, good morning, Little Meg!” Guillame tore his hat off to bow to her from his seated place. “What do we owe the bright greeting this fair morning?”
She twiddled with her loose curl. “I was wondering if you gentleman would be able to help me move? I am leaving the opera dorms to my own flat.”
Louis shot forward. “Most certainly!” Despite her rejection, he had remained friendly with her.
Standing up, Guillame asked with a wicked grin, “Will you be...offering payment?”
"Indeed." Meg nodded profusely, and assured, "I will pay you all for the trouble!”
Louis inquired, “When are you planning to move?”
Meg replied, “As soon as you all have a free morning.”
The group of men exchanged glances with one another. Initiating first, Guillame smiled and offered, “How about right now?”
Louis said to him, “We don't even know if Meg is ready." Then shifting back to her, he asked, "When will you be packed? Do you have a date you are thinking of?"
She gestured. “Actually, I am all packed. Would you gentlemen really be able to help today?”
“Of course, of course." Guillame nodded. "We have time this morning, don’t we gentleman!” He turned his head slightly, motioning to the group of men.
A chorus of voices chimed, nodding in agreement.
Meg was so grateful for their willingness, but she knew, who would turn down a quick, simple task for extra money?
With that, the group of men gathered carts and dollies to move all her possessions from upstairs, down to the back, where the opera carriages were parked. In only about an hour's time were they able to complete the task of moving and loading everything up.
Guillame chivalrously ushered her into the front carriage. Hopping in, Guillame and Louis sat across from her, and the coachmen led them all off to her new flat, whereupon the men dropped everything off upstairs, a process much quicker than navigating through the opera halls.
When they had finished, Meg took the time to kiss each man’s cheek, thanking them as she went down the line, paying them for their efforts.
Louis was the final man in the row. “Don’t worry about it, Meg!" He smiled modestly. "I make more than enough.”
“No, I insist!” She pushed the notes to his chest.
“No! No!" He backed up, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I will not hear of it.” With a nod, he made to depart.
Accepting his refusal, Meg bid the men farewell as she let them all out, shutting the door behind. She turned to survey her place, disbelieving what she accomplished.
The flat she was renting was a one-bedroom space that included a kitchen, water closet and little balcony. She could see the roof of the Opera House from it. It was larger than her dorm, and with all the amenities considered, it made it so convenient. It was also lovely because it faced the sun, making it bright and cheery. Exactly what she loved.
Looking to the floor, her possessions remained in crates and trunks, reminding her all of what she still needed to do.
Everything must be set up. She walked proudly around this little flat.
A place of her own, it was all hers!
Erik did not know about this.
Ever since their kiss, he had not come to see her once in over two weeks.
Meg was tired of being the only one trying to shift the direction of their… unmarked companionship.
If he didn’t hold any affection for her then why did he even kiss her back? She was growing tired of telling herself that his confusing actions didn’t hurt.
.
.
.
Meg exited the stage after tonight’s performance. She itched to change out of her costume and jump into bed early tonight.
Patrons flooded into the halls, and she tried to make her quick escape so no one would try and converse with her. Being Prima now, she wasn't obligated to mingle around the Dance Foyer after performances but that didn't mean men did not try with her. Just last weekend, the Duke of Brunswick had asked her to dinner. She declined the invitation. Jammes and Elise have not let her forget it since; they didn't understand why she was revolted by the man being almost three times her age.
“Mademoiselle, La Giry, that is, you dance divinely.”
Meg unwittingly turned to the charming voice. She was greeted with the sight of a very handsome man.
Being polite, she replied, “Thank you for your flattery, Monsieur.” She shifted to leave but he side stepped her path.
“Ah, Mademoiselle—I don’t want to take away from your precious time, but I want to seize this opportunity while I have you for a moment. I would love to take you out for dinner when you have a free evening. It would be a pleasure to be in your company.” He smiled, folding his arms politely behind his back.
Heat filled her cheeks as she looked down to the tiled floor. She was asked on outings frequently, but this man was one of the few young ones, so it felt more flattering. She flicked her eyes back up to his face, examining him briefly. He had thick dark hair, charming gray eyes, and a warm smile. His skin was smooth, he had noticeable cheekbones, and his neck laid between broad shoulders. He was quite handsome, indeed.
Even still, she wasn’t interested. “I am sorry, Monsieur. I have a lot of activities filling my schedule and I don’t know when I’ll be free. But thank you for your invitation.” She smiled, looking around shyly, unable to meet his face again.
“No apologies needed, Mademoiselle, it was a pleasure to just be able to speak with you.” Taking her hand, he brushed his lips upon her. Letting her go, his eyes lingered on her before turning to make his leave.
Meg raced to her dressing room. She grabbed the knob, flinging the door open and slammed it behind her. Leaning against it, she sighed with relief.
There was a knock.
Groaning, Meg opened it up and a pair of ballet rats rushed in.
“Meg! Who was that man you were speaking with?" Jammes plopped on her pouf, propping her elbows on her knees to gawk at her. "My god!"
“He was so handsome!” Elise slunk into the chair; her eyes cast a dreamy expression to the ceiling.
Feeling nettled by the sudden intrusion, Meg took an irritated tone, “I don’t know, I didn’t get his name. Jammes, can you get up? I want to take this grease off.”
“Meg!" Jammes got up, looking quite baffled. "You must go to dinner with him!”
Elise moaned, “I can’t believe you turned him down. I would’ve said yes!” She rose up from her chair.
Both girls crowded behind Meg, bending over to give her scrutinizing looks in the mirror.
Meg paused wiping her face. “I don’t know. I just don’t really...want to.”
Jammes exhaled, “Want to? He could be rich!" Continually, she shook her head. "You could be losing a golden spoon!”
The way they were speaking, Meg almost believed them for thinking she was ridiculous for rejecting that man’s offer.
Meg sighed. “Well, I don’t care about that. I don’t really want to be courted or be on any kind of terms with men right now.” She resumed cleaning her face.
Her two friends made silent eye contact behind her head.
Jammes patted her hair. “Oh, Meg, you are always a strange girl!”
Straightening up, Elise asked Meg, “We are going out for drinks with Guillame tonight, want to join us?”
Meg drew breath to reject the offer but then closed her lips. Twisting in her seat, she said, “Sure!”
After changing into sensible clothing, and bundling for the weather, the rats and the sceneshifter found themselves upon a local wine shop. A quaint hole in the wall frequented by all the local artisans and thespians. It drew crowds despite its size so it could be quite loud with sounds of laughter and shouting as the wine flowed liberally.
“I say we make a toast!" Guillame’s excited volume energized the rats. "To celebrate Little Meg finally joining us on one of our humble outings!”
Meg blanched at his words while her fellow ballerinas clanked their glasses.
“Indeed!" chimed Jammes in agreement. "It is nice of you to join us for a drink for once! I was starting to think you didn’t know how to have proper fun.”
“I enjoy drinking,” Meg defended herself, "I just usually prefer to spend my evenings practicing.”
Elise shook her head. “Who has the energy to dance this late!”
Guillame offered his two cents, “Well maybe that’s the secret to why Little Meg is Prima and you two are just rats!” He smirked as the girls screeched at his words.
Jammes thumped her finger at his chest. “Guillame, you have some nerve!”
He yanked Jammes's wrist away. “I thought you liked my brash nature!”
“You two, settle down!" Elise teased, rolling her eyes. "Get a closet!"
Meg smiled from behind the rim of her glass. What a crowd of boisterous individuals.
“So, Meg," Elise swirled her wine as she asked, "how are you liking your new flat?”
Perking up, Meg replied, “Oh, it’s delightful!”
“Eh, maybe you’ll invite us over some time?” Guillame waggled his brows.
Jammes smacked him. “You are so forthcoming!”
He smirked and kissed her lily-white wrist.
Meg took a sip of her Bordeaux. These three were certainly different company to Christine. Perhaps she would get used to this.
After two glasses of wine, Meg informed she was heading home. Jammes insisted that she stay for another round, but feeling much too exhausted to keep up with the group's raucous energy, Meg bid her farewells, and walked home alone into the night.
.
.
.
Maman was helping her hastily get ready. Meg had taken to spending more time with her mother since she moved out. This little Giry felt sad moving away from her.
“Where exactly are you going tonight?” asked Maman as she handed Meg her evening frock.
“Just at the little theatre a couple blocks down," said Meg from behind her divider, "I hope I won’t be late! The show starts soon!”
Stepping out from the divider, Meg took her shawl and reticule from her mother.
Maman looked at her watch and said, “You better hurry!”
“I’m going, bye!” Meg shot out the dressing room door, running for all she was worth from the Opera House and into the darkened Paris streets. Her haste was in due to losing track of time at the barre room with her mother earlier. Since she moved out, she was no longer practicing on the stage at night, so she took to spending her evening having her mother coach her in the studio.
As her leg muscles began to cry, the theatre finally shone within sight. She exhaled in relief as she came upon the building.
Throwing herself past the stage door keeper, she had just made it in time to see the play. This evening, they were attending a showing of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
From the theatre seats, two familiar figures waved wildly at her. Coming up to the row they were seated in, Meg hastily walked past the other patrons, minding feet and skirts as she picked her way to her spot.
Jammes exclaimed, “There you are! The show is about to start! We were worried you wouldn’t be able to get in once they shut the doors.”
“I was practicing at the barre and lost track of time.” Meg smiled sheepishly as she took her place beside her friend.
Elise leaned over Jammes to speak to her, “You’ve been extra dedicated recently, Meg! What’s your secret?" She tapped her leg. "I can never motivate myself.”
“Yeah." Jammes gave Meg a disapproving look. "You’ve been practicing more than usual. You’re going to get burned out.”
Meg replied with austere tone, “Well, I’m trying to achieve perfection, a ballerina’s work is never done.”
Elise gasped. “You’re the Prima of the Populaire! Your standards for yourself are too high.”
“Much!” chirped Jammes.
Not wanting to be scolded any longer, Meg pinched each of them. “I am here relaxing now, aren’t I?”
The curtains began to draw open, revealing the set on the stage.
“Shh! The show is starting!” Jammes put her finger to her lips, giving her full attention forward.
Meg settled in, immersing herself within the story.
-
“Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind;
And therefore, is winged Cupid painted blind.
Nor hath Love’s mind of any judgment taste.”
…
“Ay me! For aught that I could ever read,
Could ever hear by tale or history,
The course of true love never did run smooth.”
-
After the performance ended, the three of them went for drinks at the wine shop.
Jammes, much inebriated, rattled off, “My god, Guillame is a marvelous kisser! Just yesterday, we hid in one of the closets down in the first cellar, and he almost ravished me! But I told him my mother was waiting for me upstairs.”
Meg smirked at her. “Your mother wouldn’t be pleased if she knew you’d rather spend time locking lips than practicing your dancing.”
“I don’t care!" A fire took over her friend’s blue eyes. "I’m tired of her always telling me what to do. I want to have fun while I am young and eligible.” Jammes took a hearty sip of her wine. “Besides, I don’t want to hear this from you. You haven’t even kissed a man. You don’t understand the passions that are provoked in these encounters!”
“I have kissed a man!” Meg said a little louder than necessary.
Elise and Jammes both sat agape, clutching their wine glasses for dear life.
“YOU HAVE?” Jammes shouted in her face.
“Who is he? Do we know him?” Elise started shaking her shoulders, puffing her Bordeaux breath into Meg’s face.
“No! No…” Meg tapped at her glass, now regretting blurting out the information.
“Meg Giry! There is more to you than you let on!” Jammes said with an excitable air, “Are you hiding a secret lover from us?” She grinned wickedly.
Meg felt her heart drop to her stomach. “No…I am not seeing any one right now. It was just a one-time thing.”
The girls appeared much disappointed by this fact.
And Meg was too.
-
Since their kiss, Erik had been almost frightened of Meg. He allowed weeks in succession without checking on her or the Opera House above. He sentenced himself to his organ for a fortnight to finish his masterpiece Don Juan Triumphant. Their kiss lit a fire of creative fervor underneath him.
So, when he finally emerged from his lair one night to seek her out on that stage, he was discontented to find she was not there. At first, he thought little of it, simply returning to his home to catch some overdue sleep. The next morning, he woke very early to observe her rituals, instead, she never left that room. Concerned, he overstepped and checked, finding her room to be empty.
He was filled with many endlessly brewing questions as he found her dutifully at barre class that morning. That ballerina kept herself constantly surrounded by those thespians all day and so he waited. He waited quite madly, gnashing his teeth as she spent all evening at the barre room with her mother then near rage took over when she flew out with purpose into the darkened streets. His patience long gone, he almost snatched her right then, but she slid through those closing doors, just as his warring mind had settled.
Presently, he watched as she finally parted from those dreadful ballet rats. His silent shadow trailed not too far behind her, discerning where exactly she was going; she walked alone in a direction that was not the Opera House. Then she disappeared into a building, unlocking a flat with apparent familiarity. Now he was seething with anger.
-
Meg lit her bedside candle and turned around.
“When were you going to tell me?”
She shrieked in terror, stopping short when she realized it was only Erik. He looked frightening cloaked in the shadows of the corner of her room. Her heart palpitated as he advanced slowly toward her. The light now shed upon his face; his visible features were drawn in displeased lines.
She demanded angrily, “How did you get in?”
He stopped in front of her, leaning forward, his golden eyes flickered from the candlelight. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked shrewdly, ignoring her question.
Crossing her arms, she frowned, looking away. “Why would I tell you?”
His gloved hand guided her chin back to face him. “I dare say, I have a right to know!”
“Why?” She narrowed her eyes.
He sucked in a breath and turned away from her, removing his gloves.
Anger boiling over, her irate voice shouted, “Don’t! Ever! Com—“ His lips covered hers before she could finish, inadvertently, she moaned, as the thrill from their sudden kiss caught her off guard.
Then his hands were on her, picking her up, gently laying her to the bed. Leaning over, he gathered her to him, resuming their heated kiss. Tempering in the embrace, she sighed into his lips while his fingers wove through her hair, tickling over her scalp. She found her hands upon the sides of his face, in hopes of deepening their exchange.
The gesture startled him, with a sharp gasp, he broke apart from her. To much disappointment, she watched as he put distance between them, sitting at the far end of her bed now.
It had not been her intention to frighten him. She cautiously reached to grasp his shaking hand, then slowly, she crawled over to take place beside him, resting her head against his arm.
His whisper broke the silence, “I wish to see you more.”
She lifted her head to look up at him. His face was turned away, but his thumb was now gently rubbing over her hand. He shifted to draw her into his arms, holding her closely to him. Was it her imagination or was he trembling?
Pressed into his bony chest, she could feel their hearts beating against each other. It felt so satisfying being able to exchange so many affections this evening. She wished they could do so freely, more often. She wanted to ask him where he had been, but at this point, she learned that he would rather stay silent than answer any of her questions.
Feeling so very tired from her long day, her head grew heavy, and she leaned into him completely. The soothing link of their hearts was all she needed to peacefully drift away.
-
While Erik held Meg, there was a certain thought, holding her like this was so horribly frightening yet so very pleasant. Her slowed breaths alerted him that she was asleep. Did she trust him? To have allowed herself to do such a thing? That she hadn’t made him leave?
He trembled and held her tighter, burying his masked face in her hair, breathing in her scent. No, he could not risk losing this—losing her. They kissed again tonight, and what a kiss it was! 'Twas unfortunate being short-lived but her touch was the needed clarity; he had started overwhelming and didn’t want her to notice.
Staring down at her lovely face, caressing her hair, he assured this was real. This living woman wanted to be near him for some bizarre reason… He started shaking, realizing how intimate this entire moment was; she was only in her nightgown. Averting his eyes, he calmed himself, not wanting to ruin the memory.
Hours may have passed, it was hard to tell, he did not move an inch from his spot, not even to look out the window. But after some time, rationality restored. It was not right to stay this long, and so he carefully laid her to the bed, gently tucking her in. Before he left, he did one last thing.
-
When Meg awoke the next morning, she was disappointed to find that Erik did not stay, but on her bedside table he left her a note saying that he would escort her home every night. With these reassuring words, she smiled and jumped out of bed. She changed into her day clothes and packed her bag. Shutting the door behind her, she skipped to the Opera House.
While practicing today, Meg felt much more energized. She was so happy that Erik had come to see her. After sitting in bed together, embracing, it made her feel so familiar to him. Closing that distance between them, literally and figuratively. All she could think about was how she wanted more of that.
As she performed développé, a giddy smile graced her features. If he was to escort her every night, then he could come into her home, and maybe he would be willing to open up to her? They could hold each other close every night and perhaps she would finally get to know him.
Meg leapt into the barre room, singing out, “Good morning!”
Jammes and Elise looked at her as though she had sprouted two heads. “Good morning, Meg.” replied Jammes, eyeing her sharply.
“You’re in a good mood!” said Elise.
Meg smiled shrugging. “It’s a good day today!”
Her friends proceeded to giggle at her, and Meg brushed off their teasing, withholding her reasons.
Turning the conversation on to them, Meg asked, “Well, how are you both doing...?”
Elise let out a deep, exaggerated sigh. Jammes patted her friend’s shoulder knowingly.
Looking between the two, Meg prodded, “What’s wrong?”
Shutting her eyes, Elise whined, “Monsieur Poligny cut me off my allowance!”
Meg whitened at this revelation. “W-what? The old manager?”
Jammes looked to her. “Oh, you didn’t know?”
Meg shook her head feverishly.
“Yes,” Elise said. “I was seeing him up until yesterday.”
Meg revolted at this information. She always heard the old manager was indecent... Hearing it firsthand though was deplorable, and with her friend no less.
Elise ran her fingers through her hair arrangement, ruffling it. “Well, it was because his wife found out. It is quite unfortunate. I may have to go perusing through the gentlemen’s catalog this weekend. To see who is eligible!”
The reality of many ballet rats cannot be forgotten; Meg was disconcerted to be reminded of it.
.
.
.
After a long day at the theatre, Meg met Erik by the Rue Scribe entrance after the sun had long set. Blending into the shadows of the wall, wearing his usual all black ensemble, she almost didn’t see him. As she walked up, he wordlessly laid his arm out for her to take. She set her hand in the crook of his elbow and onwards they made their way along the quieting sidewalks to her flat.
It felt strange doing something like this, as though they were properly courting. She did not mind as it was nice being out together even if only as simple of a thing as walking around at night.
She asked curiously, “What have you been up to today?”
What did this man even do with his time? Did he have a job? Other hobbies?
In a clipped tone, he answered, “I had some business to attend to.”
“I see.” She waited, hoping that he would elaborate but it seemed he was content with the silence. Accepting this, she decided to not push conversation because she was pleased enough to be spending any time with him.
Climbing the steps, trailing down the hall, they arrived at her doorstep, and he kissed her hand to leave. Before he could go, she reached to touch his arm to halt his steps. They had only spent a short time together; she didn’t want it to end already.
“Won’t you come in for a bit?”
Slowly, he nodded, allowing her to lead them into her flat. She deposited her things on the table and went to her room, closing the door behind her. Quickly, she changed into her nightgown, knowing how intimate it was to allow him to see her in such a state. She did not care.
Stepping out of her bedroom, she found him to be looking out the window at the moon.
"Sit with me?” she asked softly. He blinked, appearing to consider, then wordlessly he shed his hat, gloves and cloak.
Settling into the sofa cushion, she waited for him to take a seat next to her; she was disappointed as he sat to the other end. Finding that unacceptable, she scooted closer until she was leaning against him. His shoulder tensed but after a moment he relaxed.
The silence filled the air for what felt like an excruciating time.
Erik spoke up, “How… was your day…” The way it was inflected, sounded as though, he was not used to asking such a question.
Staring at her dark kitchen, Meg answered, “It was alright. After practice, I helped Madame Laurent organize the costume storage.” She smiled mischievously. “If I am truthful, I offered to help so I could barter a frock I’d been eyeing. She scolded me but ended up letting me leave with it afterwards. Otherwise, it was a normal day.”
She laced her small fingers with his long bony ones. While observing his hand closely, she noticed his flesh was rather pale with many scars patterned over it.
Feeling drowsy, she mumbled, “I like spending time together like this…”
She yawned as he traced his thumb along her hand. Wanting to get more comfortable, she nestled against him, aware of how intimately she was pressing into him. She could feel him trembling as he adjusted to drape his arm around her shoulder. Her lids drooped heavy, and she sighed deeply into his chest, inhaling his familiar scent.
He said quietly, “Your performances have been beautiful.”
Hearing those words, she burrowed her face into his shirt. “You have been watching?” she mumbled, feeling herself begin to sink.
“Every single one.”
Laying so comfortably against him, she succumbed to the powers of sleep.
-
Hearing Meg's slowed breaths, Erik ripped his mask off and turned to embrace her fully to him. To be able to enjoy this again, he overwhelmed whilst burying his face in her golden locks, assuring the reality of this somehow possibly reoccurring.
Having Meg like this in his arms... What feelings were taking hold over him; tears almost burst from his eye sockets. She was so soft and warm. Her breasts were pressed into him. He violently shook all over trying to comprehend why she would do such a thing. His mind was chanting desperately for him to surrender to her already.
He stroked her hair whilst his thoughts spun endlessly. He was so frightened of losing Meg... If he said or did one wrong thing, all of this would be gone. He could not risk losing her.
But he wanted to be open with her, she hadn’t been repulsed yet. She very clearly wanted to talk to him, to know him, he felt she deserved as much with how good she had been…
He looked down to her snoozing face, how angelic she looked, so innocently asleep on someone wicked like him.
Oh, how terribly he wanted to stay with her.
At some point, Meg began to stir in her sleep, and spooked, Erik snatched his mask to hide his face. As she settled back into his arms, a feeling of guilt took hold. He should go…
Carefully, he picked up her sleeping form, cradling her to him as he brought her to bed. He tucked her in neatly then knelt by her side. Wanting just a few minutes longer with her, he held her hand, stroking it whilst humming a lullaby so softly. Once finished, he leaned over to kiss her temple.
He whispered in her ear, “Goodnight, my Meg.”
-
The next morning, Meg found herself in her bed. She scolded inwardly for falling asleep while Erik was still here. Between all the dancing, socializing and walking, she was positively exhausted at the end of each day.
She headed to the Opera House and the day went on as usual routine. After barre practice, her and Elise were left together as Jammes had an appointment with her mother. It was an unusual occurrence as the two rarely conversed alone.
While they packed their bags, Elise turned to Meg and asked, “Would you like to have lunch with me?”
Meg was a little surprised by the invitation. “Of course, we could eat in my dressing room, if you’d like?”
“Sure!” She nodded eagerly.
After procuring some plates, they settled into her dressing room. Meg sat on her pouf at her vanity while Elise had pulled up the chair beside her. They were each eating an Opera House rationing of chicken and boule.
“I like that you have been hanging out with us,” said Elise.
Meg’s mouth was presently stuffed with bread, she quickly chewed and swallowed. “Oh, yes! It has been a lot of fun.”
Elise took a bite of her chicken, after finishing, she flicked her eyes over to Meg. “A lot of us were intimidated by you for the longest time...”
Meg almost dropped her fork. “What, really?”
Elise lowered her head. “I'm sorry for misjudging you.”
Meg blinked, she was puzzled by this. It was true she had never been particularly close to any of the rats in the corps. Not the way she was with Christine or even Sorelli. But never in a hundred years would Meg guess people thought she of all people were intimidating?
“It's fine,” Meg replied, "The Opera House is a competitive environment...It can be hard to acquaint for those reasons.”
Elise said quietly, “Jammes does feel sorry about that time... you know.” She finally met Meg’s eyes. “You just sort of come off as... mysterious. You’re a little hard to read. I realize now it was us just misunderstanding you.”
Meg’s eyes widened at this perception. “What do you mean?” Is that what people truly thought of her? A part of her withered.
“Well, you are easy to talk with! …But you mostly keep to yourself. I think that’s confusing to some people...”
Meg nodded slowly. “Oh... I didn’t realize. I just have a busy schedule. I prioritize dancing above all else.”
Something Meg didn’t want to say aloud, but perhaps she also had simply chosen quieter company as a preference. It was something though she was trying to do differently as of late.
“It-it is admirable!" stammered Elise. "I think the ballet girls just thought... you don’t know how to have fun. Which I know now is not true! Madame Giry is... well, you know... I’m sure that’s why...” She let out a stilted laugh then cleared her throat.
Thinking it through, it was an interesting conversation to be having, and Meg smiled grateful to be exploring it.
Elise blurted out, “Thank you for not judging me.” Her chocolate eyes lingered to the far corner.
“For what?”
“When I mentioned my former arrangement with Poligny..." Elise's shoulders sagged as she spoke, "I know it’s common to take up such relationships, but a lot of rats loathed me because I was the only one he maintained contact with after he resigned... I know it's immoral... I grew up poor so, I accept any prospects I can get... Well, I just mean, thank you for not treating me differently...”
Meg was stunned, truly she thought nothing of Elise’s side of the arrangement. More so she was displeased of the men who take advantage of these sorts of situations. She knew some women didn’t have many options. With Elise being as pretty as she was, she was flooded with invitations every weekend.
Meg grabbed Elise’s olive hand, and her friend met her gaze. “Everyone deserves kindness and respect. I would never judge what you choose for your own life. You are a sovereign human being; you do what you must.” She squeezed her hand before letting go.
Elise stared at her momentarily then resumed eating from her plate. They sat in silence for a few moments.
Speaking up, Elise said, “It’s funny how initial perceptions can be deceiving …I am glad you and I are friends.”
.
.
.
As the moon rose high above Paris, Meg walked to the shadow figure waiting before her. This time, he took her hand, placing it in the crook of his arm. While they walked in silence, she felt him put his other hand upon her.
Feeling a prickle of excitement at his affection she decided to speak up, “What did you do today?”
He replied flatly, “I was working on something.”
“Oh.” She deflated initially, not being dissuaded though, she plucked up the nerve to further the conversation. “What were you working on?”
“You are so inquisitive.”
She would’ve been offended if he didn’t sound almost blithe.
They arrived at her door, and he took her hand, but before he could kiss it, she laid her other hand over top his.
“Please come inside.”
He nodded silently at the invitation. She let them in and quickly changed into her nightgown.
Standing in her bedroom doorway, she asked, “Will you lay with me?”
He remained still for a moment but then turned to place his things neatly on the sofa. As he entered the room, she guided him to her bed, with her laying down first. Expectantly, she stared at him, patting the space beside her. Hesitantly, he joined her on the other end, keeping much distance. Her eyes grew dry staring at him. Her throat constricted as he turned to look at her. His intense gaze was making something kindle inside her chest.
Feeling some courage, she closed the distance between them, laying her head on his shoulder. Hesitantly, he adjusted himself, encircling her in his embrace.
She buried her face into his linen shirt, enjoying the feeling of being wrapped almost protectively in his arms. Her belly was flopping in a most splendid way. This warming comfort was settling her though and her mind started to dull.
His heartbeat was just lulling her to sleep when she heard him whisper into her hair, “I would like to tell you everything.”
She snapped her eyes open with all traces of sleep now gone. Looking upward at him, she replied, "I am listening."
He warned, “It is a long story.”
“I don’t mind.”
He quietly began, “I was born in a little town near Rouen, to parents of middle-class means. From my earliest memories, my face was an object of horror and terror for my parents... The circumstances within that house were nothing short of unbearable... My father never looked at me and my mother presented me a mask to wear when I was a small child. I was loathed entirely, and my presence was less than tolerated. One day, the pain became too much… so much so, that I ran away at a young age due to the nature of the treatment... When I left, I wandered aimlessly until I ended up at a fair... Being only a mere child, a group of travelers took ward over me, to parade me as a freak.”
With this unhappy beginning, Meg tried to not outwardly react. Thinking of the implications of his childhood tugged horrifically at her heart. What a sinking feeling had settled into her belly hearing him speak so mournfully. To dampen her further reaction, she started stroking small circles on his back.
“...They called me The Living Corpse, and I traveled to many parts of Europe to be exhibited. Perhaps as a distraction from the living conditions, I amused myself by learning magic and card tricks and of course...singing. I learned many things from the Bohemians I came across at each fair. When I first sang, before an audience, it was in a little Russian town. It was there I did more than just be paraded for my hideousness; I demonstrated sleight of hand, ventriloquy, and other magic trickery. It took several years but one day, Erik was able to finally enact his long-awaited revenge, he killed his captor and ran off to indulge his newfound freedom...”
Her hand almost halted its soothing motions, but she continued listening impartially, trying to hang on to his every word. There were many questions on her mind, he was divulging so much information, but she would never interrupt him. Perhaps it was selfish, but she was relieved he wasn’t going into exact details about some things. Whatever happened was enough to incense him to murder…
“I roved Europe for years, surrounded by many cultures... I learned several languages and gained a deeper appreciation for the arts. Eventually my pursuits led me to Asia where I picked up some useful tricks from a band of pirates. Then, that Daroga, the Persian man, had been summoned to find me. It seemed Erik had unintentionally developed a reputation across several countries; a reputation of which permeated the walls of the palace at Mazenderan in Persia. Thereon, I was presented before the Shah, and at first, it was quite pleasant. They treated Erik like a king. So starkly different than what he had accustomed hitherto, but quickly, the Shah’s favored wife, the little Sultana, grew bored of Erik’s tricks and demanded more from him… Erik hopes Meg will not be disgusted with him when he informs that he showed the little Sultana the deathly wonders of the Punjab lasso; a rope trick I learned in Asia. Erik strangled many convicts in her courtyard for months and months until she tired of it... Is Meg disgusted by these things I am saying?”
Burying her voice in his chest, she reassured, “It’s alright, please continue.”
Shakily, he spoke, “The… hospitality began to dry up. So, in order to demonstrate further usefulness, as to not lose my head, Erik offered to be an assassin. The Shah was quite pleased with the deeds carried out, thereon, he requested Erik invent him some things to torture his enemies.”
While holding each other so tenderly, she couldn't imagine him possibly partaking in any of these horrors he was so so openly speaking of, but because of being confined to his torture chamber, that one time, this story did not come as a complete shock to her. And something she had noticed previously, but now was certain of, was that Erik referred to himself in the third person on occasion. It was strange to hear but probably would serve as a useful indicator for herself when speaking with him about any delicate topics in the future. Despite his involvements in such things, his Voice was quite sorrowful as he recounted it, as though he were not proud of it. It served to assure her, that this man wasn't entirely wicked...
“It seemed Erik continued to impress them, consequentially, they demanded more from him. So, he designed the Shah a palace so magnificent that the Shah himself felt threatened. They ordered to have Erik’s eyes gouged out but after much debate they decided I was much more convenient dead than alive. Luckily for Erik, the Daroga was quite cunning. He slipped me out from those palace walls, smuggling me out of Persia. For that, I am never able to return to that place... And the Daroga keeps watch over Erik, to make sure he behaves...” he paused, inhaling and exhaling deeply; clearly overcome by his long story and the emotions woven throughout it. Meg held him back tightly, to ease his anxiety.
“...I then traveled to Constantinople to be under the Sultan’s employment... I won’t trouble you further, divulging the horrors I constructed there. Surely, I have frightened you enough with the memories spoken thus far...”
She buried her face into his chest, trying to reassure him, even though, indeed, she was disquieted, as she had not expected a life story such as this.
“Please go on,” she urged.
“The last bit of my fortunes dried up there... I managed another narrow escape whereupon I realized I longed for my home country... Years of endless traveling left me despondent. Despite the ills of my childhood... France holds a special place for me. I just wanted to be like everybody else... So, I returned to Paris and took up contracting; I was an ordinary contractor... I built several houses with ordinary bricks... Then, when the Populaire was tendered to be built, I placed an offer to work construction on its foundation. It was there I worked during the siege of Paris. Working alone, I will admit, I could not help myself, and so I quietly built my home at the base of the theatre... Erik was building that home to be his tomb... A place to dwell for the rest of his days until he finally succumbed...”
Now all those things he had said made more sense to her. Honestly, she was amazed by some of the things he said he had done. She didn’t realize he was this talented. Not only was he a wonderful musician but he was also a magician and an architect? That he helped build the Opera House.
“To stay amused, I scoured the passages I had built around the theatre. I watched over the tenants for years. And then, one day, I heard the voice of an angel sing, practicing in her dressing room. It was your sister, Christine. Admittedly, I played a little joke upon her, but when she had addressed me as angel, well, something came over me. Erik couldn't help himself; he wanted to indulge her, thereupon I offered to give her singing lessons and... now—you—Meg—are here with me,” he finished his story quietly. His body tensed up as though bracing himself.
Hearing what kind of life he had, led her to understand him finally. She knew a part of herself should be repulsed by some of the deeds he had carried out, but she couldn’t help but feel compassionate to his plight. Taking in his heavy story weighed on her very much.
The riddle of his mystery finally being answered to her like a grand crescendo sated every ounce of curiosity in her bones. For she felt like she finally knew him. That he would be so open with her, sharing such a vulnerability between them.
The intimacy of this made her feel like—almost like she—
They were so close, almost like…
She made to climb over top, gazing deeply into his trembling eyes. She whispered, "Thank you for telling me." Then, she lowered her lips, bestowing a most gentle kiss upon his own, wanting to silently impress upon him all her realized feelings. He pulled her closely to his chest, and feeling encouraged by this, she ran her tongue along his lips.
Their mouths parted with their tongues meeting for the first time. An ember danced between them, her head was spinning as she tasted the wine and spices he was laced with. A delightful shiver coursed through her as he ran his fingers through her hair. Relaxing herself, she laid her weight over him; a feeling that had them both moaning in their kiss. His hold of her hair tightened as she pressed herself into him; burgeoning desire was rampant as they grasped at one another. She sighed as his hand trailed down her spine. All she could think was that she wanted more.
Something shifted between them on this night, as if a wall of defense was crumbling down. With her accepting who he has admitted to being, she wanted to cross that barrier; she wanted to truly know him, to show him she accepted him in every way.
After all—his mask was getting in the way of properly kissing.
She drew away from his lips to look upon him. With softened eyes and a gentle voice, she asked, “Would you allow me to see you?”
Cold dread filled her veins as she watched a darkness cloud over his yellow eyes, turning them black; his frame turned to stone beneath her. She startled when he threw her off him.
Getting up, he exploded viciously, “YOU DAMN PROVOKING WOMAN! You spoil EVERY honest moment with your incessant questioning! You cannot ever be content with anything!” His intimidating stature bent over her fallen form on the bed as his hands shook furiously at her. “WELL? Is that what it is? Your usual insistence won’t be sated until you know the face? The face of the monster? Do you think your curiosity could tolerate the horror? Will it satisfy you? Will it?"
“Erik, I—”
He seized her wrists, forcing her to stand. “Well, is that what you wanted? To gaze upon my hideousness!” His face was mere inches close, shouting at a volume that rattled her. “Was that what you were always so desperately wanting!”
The force of his grip on her was painful, his expression was twisted with such seething rage; she was left stunned. Swallowing back the lump in her throat, she tried to speak—
His eyes lit up. "Ah, I finally have frightened you! At long last! The day has come! Well, go on, Marguerite!” He curled her fingers around his mask. “Tear it off! I implore you!”
“Please stop this!” she cried, wrenching herself away from his grasp, falling back to the bed.
In shock of the violence, she looked up at him in devastation, finding only his unrepentant face staring down at her.
Her lips parted to speak but he turned away promptly.
In this stark silence, not an ounce of strength could be found from her as she stayed put on that bed watching him wordlessly grabbing his things and leaving.
Her eyes lingered on the front door as it shut. She pushed down the tears that threatened to fall. It was very late, and she needed to sleep.
As she settled under her covers, a warmth could be felt on the blankets where he had just been.