What Lies Behind the Mask (Phantom of the Opera x OC)

Chapter Ten: The Secret

Orianne tried to ignore the sense of foreboding that hung over her as she continued to walk down the path to the "house on the lake," which is what she had decided to coin it. The weight of the book in her basket was a slightly comforting notion since she knew that Erik would be content for a few days. As she hurried down the path, she began to hear little footsteps hurrying behind her. She slowed down and turned her head around in apprehension, spotting the outline of her son in the shadows of the catacombs. A relieved sigh left her as she placed her hand against her chest, trying her very best to still her hammering heart.

"What have I told you about sneaking up on me?" Orianne sternly said as she shook her head, motioning for Erik to come out from the shadows.

"Not to do it..." Erik answered as he began advancing toward his mother. "Sorry..."

"You are going to give me a heart attack one of these days. You are as sneaky as a cat. You must know that you are incredibly good at sneaking around." Orianne noticed that his mask slightly moved as if he had just smiled brightly. "Erik, are you finding joy in that statement?"

"A slight amount. It means that I do not have to always stay inside the house since I am so silent."

"I am not saying that, Erik dear. You must not leave the house."

"I promise that I will not leave the catacombs-" Erik started, his tone desperate.

"I am sorry, but I am not able to ensure that someone might not be sneaking around."

"If someone was sneaking around, they would surely find our house. Won't they?"

"No, I hid it far away from the human eye. No one will ever find the house or you."

"Why must I be hidden away? Can I not go outside during the night?"

"No one must know that you exist, Erik. If they saw your..." Orianne trailed off as she gulped, glancing over at Erik's confused expression. "It is a little secret that only I know."

"A secret?" Erik repeated as his eyes lit up with interest. He cocked his head to the side as he drew closer to her, studying her expression. "Do tell me what kind, Mother."

"One that is integral to your safety, alright?" As Erik drew closer, Orianne wiped her sweating palms against her skirts and straightened her posture. Despite her disgust, she forced herself to meet his amber gaze and fix a smile upon her face. "You must never question your mother. I promise that I only have you in mind when I make my decisions, okay? No one must know about you. Just trust me."

"I do trust you, but I am curious as to why."

Orianne paused for a moment before suddenly glancing down at her wicker basket, a relieved sigh leaving her lips. Her dainty fingers moved into the basket to wrap around the book and bring it out for Erik to look at. Another tentative smile crossed her face as she announced, "I was able to find an interesting book for you."

"You're changing the subject, Mother," Erik stonily replied as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"I cannot tell you. Please, let's focus on happier things. Your dear mother just borrowed a book that should occupy you for a few days. Does that not sound lovely, Erik?"

Erik sighed, shaking his head in frustration. Finally, he looked back up at Orianne and nodded at her question. "Yes, that sounds nice. Are you able to borrow even more books later on?"

"Probably. Just tell me if you want more advanced books or something a bit easier."

"It entertains me that you think I would want a simpler book," Erik responded, a slight chuckle leaving his lips. His skeletal fingers wrapped around the book as he proclaimed, "I like a challenge, Mother."

- - -

Meg looked up adoringly at her mother, who was still trying her very best to instruct the corps de ballet. The small child had convinced Madame Giry to allow her to tag along and watch the young ballerinas.

"Maman, when might I be able to dance like them?" the black-haired child asked, tugging on her mother's thick black skirts.

Madame Giry glanced down at Meg, the coldness of her face melting slightly. "In a few years, Megan. Of course, that is the case that I deem you to be healthy enough to do so."

"Why can I not do it now?"

"I mean this with as much kindness as possible, but you have the bones of a chicken," Madame Giry answered as she glanced back up to critique the dancers once again.

Meg's bottom lip poked out as she crossed her arms over her chest. This movement caught the attention of her mother, who clicked her tongue in derision.

"Come now. Do not sulk. It is not befitting for a daughter of mine. I am merely worrying about your safety. Chicken bones are never good. They are easily breakable, and they will never be able to properly recover. I inherited from my maman, and you might have as well." Madame Giry held up her cane for Meg to see. "The opera house demands the corps de ballet to be fit and healthy young women. Not puny little five-year-old girls. One day, you might be the apple of the audience's eye." She moved to smooth down her daughter's hair and kissed it. "I have faith in you, child. However, you cannot do it right now."

Meg glanced up at her mother with a quizzical look in her eye. "Who do you think will be the principal dancer?"

"In this gaggle of girls?" Madame Giry directed her attention to the girls before gesturing toward Kat, who was struggling to keep up with the rest of the girls. "That one is named Kathryn Holmes. She is likely to be who I name as principal dancer."

"Maman, she's horrible-!"

"She may be, but she has promise. She has a sort of untrained fire in her that needs to be tended to. Despite the fact that she may not be able to keep up, she spends extra hours of her free time to study the dances," Madame Giry said as she nodded in thought. "She has passion for dance. That is what a principal dancer needs before they can truly make an impact on the audience.'

"Passion," Meg repeated as she tilted her head. "So, do I have that?"

"Well, we shall have to see. Now, let us stop discussing such matters. I need to help out my girls." With that, Madame Giry turned her focus to the wobblig girls. "They certainly do require a lot of assistance."