Too Dark to Even Try (Beneath a Moonless Sky fanfic)

Master's Of Music

"What an out right disgrace!" Papa bellowed, slamming his left hand down, hard on to the piano. His right hand was otherwise occupied with a glass of brandy, and he threw it back into his throat with a swift motion of his arm.

Maman gasped and shook slightly as she sat on the piano stool. Trembling, she looked up at him.

"Please, my darling, Mr. Y meant no harm---"

"Ha!" Cut in her husband. "Mr. Y! He didn't even have the decency to greet us himself!"

Gustave watched as maman stood, smoothing her crinkled, creamy white dress. She stepped towards him, and laid a gentle hand upon his stiff forarm.

"Raoul....I promise you, this shall be worth it. We need the money...."

His eyes bore daggers into her, and Gustave tighten his grip on Enzo's shoulder.

"My fault! It's always my fault!" He growled. Maman swallowed slowly.

"Please, dear, forgive me. Let us leave this place...if it would please you."

Gustave wanted to shout. This trip was for her....and she has seemed happier than she had ever been in France.

Papa grasped her wrist.

Gustave refrained, and bit his tongue.

"Papa!" Squealed Enzo, "come and see this toy I've got!"

Papa ignored him, and continued to stare deeply into Maman's eyes.

"I need some air," he murmured, his tone unreadable. Papa's grip loosened and his pale eyes dipped down to where he had been holding Maman.

Papa had never hurt maman, nor did Gustave believe he ever would. It was adamant to Gustave that papa loved her, for who could not? But Papa often spoke to harshly, the slow increase of wine and brandy the sorce. Gustave often marveled at the way Papa would stare at Maman when she was turned away...as if he looked away for a moment, something, or someone, would snatch her up and he would be left alone in the depths of despair.

Maman loved Papa, too, Gustave could see. But in a loyalist-ic way, as if she owed him. And her debt be payed by remaining faithful to him.

She smiled at him and placed a kiss upon his cheek. Gustave watched as Papa's eyes turned tender.

Grabbing his coat, Papa bid them a silent goodnight.

"Maman, look at what they gave to me!" Enzo begged, bouncing.

Maman chuckled at sat on the ottoman, brushing Enzo's rosy cheek with her thumb.

Gustave sat on the floor beside his mother, and watched as Enzo began to show her his newest toy.

A music box, it was.

A little monkey with real feeling fur sat on the top of a box of sorts, dressed in Persian clothing. The little figurine held two golden disks.

Maman reached out and touched the monkey gingerly, and tilted her head tilted as if it reminded her of something.

Enzo turned the handle and it began to play a small, light hearted tune.

He gazed up proudly at his mother.

Maman's face went white as a ghost, and she pressed a hand over her mouth.

Startled, Gustave touched her arm.

"Maman?" He asked, his brow furrowed.

Her hand slowly slid down and he heard her murmur in an haunting tone, "Red Death. Masquerade."

"Maman," Gustave said, louder. Her eyes focused on him and she sat up straight.

"I believe it is passed your bedtimes. Quick, off to bed!" She chittered.

Confused, Gustave stood and took Enzo's hand.

"Did you like my toy, Maman?" He asked, hopeful.

Maman nodded quickly, but did not answer.

She brought them into their attached bedchamber, and the boys changed quickly.

Maman came back in a few minutes post, and tucked them in.

She placed a kiss upon Enzo's brow, murmuring a soft lullaby.

Standing, Maman moved to Gustave's bed and began to rub his dark curls.

"I wish my hair was like yours," he told her, "it's such a light brown Colour. Mine is dark, like pitch."

Maman shushed him. "I love your hair. And I love to kiss it." She kissed his curls repetitively. He laughed softly and waved her to stop.

When she did, she murmured into his ear, "My Little Master of Music..." Before disappearing into the main room.

Gustave lay on his back and stared into the (mostly) dark nothiness.

Something didn't settle right in his stomach, and he couldn't place a finger on why.

After what seemed like hours, he slipped out of bed and cracked the door open silently, just enough to see out of.

Maman sat on the ottoman, the music box in her hands. She studied it, her eyes full of curiosity and...fear.

Suddenly, as if on some unheard cue, the balcony doors swung open.

Maman stood abruptly, dropping the music box.

Slowly, she turned and faced the doors.

A figure clothed in black stood, outlined by the moonlight.

Gustave heard his mother gasp.

The figure stepped into the light.

It was a man, he wore fine dressing clothes and a long black trench, as if he were out for a midnight stroll. His hair was as black as ebony and his skin a haunting, yet strangely beautiful white. Adorning the right side of his face, was an even paler half mask.

What Gustave heard Maman murmur next froze the blood in his veins.

"My Master of Music..."