Monstret Under Sängen (Phantom of the Opera)

Monstret Under Sängen: Part 4

PART 4:

"I suppose you heard?" Christine said as she held fifth position, before dropping into fourth.

"Heard what?" He inquired, lightly tweaking the strings of his violin. It wouldn't do for it to go out of tune.

"That I'm moving back to the dorms. They finished them yesterday."

"It will be good for you to be back in the warmed rooms." He remarked, completely his tuning and tucking the violin under his chin to test the alterations.

"I suppose. Though, the blanket you gave me has been quite warm." She paused in her practice and flopped down on her bed.

"I'm glad you were able to use it." He struck up the practice piece and let her practice her ballet steps for a moment before remarking,

"Perhaps it is best you try again tomorrow? You're looking quite tired this evening."

"I am." Christine laughed as she sat down on the floor and unlaced her slippers. "Master Fedorov drove us relentlessly and kept going on and on about how we French girls were a disgrace to our country and that Russians could dance before they could talk." The seven-year-old laughed again and moved to her bed.

He almost chuckled.

"I fear that is nothing new."

"No, I suppose it isn't. Do you like my dancing?" She glanced around the room. "Am I any good?"

Here he paused. Christine wasn't an awful dancer. She had good form for a child who hadn't yet reached double digits in age. Several girls were worse than her but most were better.

"You are a fair dancer, but you were not meant to dance. You were meant to sing." He wouldn't lie to her.

"Master Fedorov says I look like a calf frolicking in a field." Her shoulders slumped and the girl stopped massaging ointment into her raw feet. "Do I look like that?"

"No, of course not! That is Jammes' job." Christine immediately dissolved into giggles, her melancholy lifted with the commentary on another ballet rat.

"Yes, and she does it quite well!" She returned to rubbing her heels before quieting. "Will I always be in the chorus?"

"No. One day, you will be the lead soprano of an Opera House with the whole world worshipping at your feet." Her eyes turned towards him, locking on his even though she didn't know he was there.

"Will you be there?"

"...if you want me." He replied, watching her. He would go wherever she commanded. If she wished her dark monster to follow her throughout her life, he could. If she wished him to never come back, he would keep her safe from as far off as he could, never disturbing her, never letting on that he was near.

"I do. The world doesn't matter to me if you're not there."

He almost cried.

"I will be there as long as you want me." He agreed, closing his eyes and holding back the tears. Oh, Christine, I live for you and your happiness.

She smiled and put away her ointment.

"Let's sing!" She exclaimed before taking her position in the middle of the room. "Will you play me a scale?"

"Of course." He choked on the words. "As my diva commands." Her laughter floated across his ears as he began to play.

Christine, I shall always worship at your feet. I am only a poor dog, ready to die for you.