Monstret Under Sängen (Phantom of the Opera)

Monstret Under Sängen: Part 7 - Part 1

Author's Note:

Dear Readers,

Well, here's your chapter! I hope you like it! Again, I'm starting with the "parts of the parts". I think this is going to be a trend. Oh well.

Also, I'm considering going back and "inserting" parts where I left a large amount of space. Let me know what you think!

sarahlet2999

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PART 7 - Part 1

"Monstret?" The child wrapped in yards of red fabric asked.

"Yes, child?"

"Did you hear about the auditions they are holding?"

"Yes, I did hear about them. What about them?" He inquired, feeling her nervousness through her voice.

"Well, I was wondering, if you didn't mind that is and thought I could do, if I could audition for a small voice part instead of just a place in the chorus." She looked steadily into her lap as she muttered this request and steadily tugged on a loose thread, come loose since he had given it to her as he would never dream of letting such a thing on his own garments.

Could she? Could she sing and act well enough?

Was it time?

If it weren't time, when would it be?

"Why do you ask this, Christine?" Maybe if he heard her reasons, he would know.

"You've been teaching me for so long, and I've done well. I can hear myself getting better. And, while I love singing for you, I would like to sing on stage. Just a little. I want to make you and Erik proud."

Ever since he had revealed himself as the Phantom of the Opera to her, she rarely referred to him alone, always bringing in his other persona as someone she wanted to please. It annoyed him to no end. It didn't matter that he was both. Her affections were now split.

"Well," he replied, "you can try. It doesn't hurt to try. Your voice is very beautiful and sounds very sweet, if a bit childish. They will be hard pressed to find a better."

She grinned brightly at him, making it worth all the trouble her auditioning might cause.

"If they ask for your teacher, what will you tell them?"

"What would you like for me to tell them?" She inquired, fully aware that telling them that the Monstret Under Sängen wouldn't reflect well on her sanity.

"Tell them..." He hesitated. "If they ask, tell them that your teacher prefers to remain unknown."

She nodded, wrapping the extra fabric at the bottom of the cloak around her toes to keep them warm.

"And if they press me?"

"I shall be there to see that they don't." She nodded again and lightly stroked the faint embroidery on the cloak pooled about her slight figure.

"Monstret, is the black cloak yours?" It took him a moment to remember the black cloak she spoke of as she had been using his red one since he gave it to her after the Masquerade. Perhaps he should have paid more attention but as the question was an innocent one, he didn't think to lie.

"Yes. I gave it to you because I wanted you to be warm."

"Oh." She replied, falling silent as thoughts filled her mind. He noticed her silence and felt uneasy. What was going on in that pretty head of hers?

"Is something wrong, Christine?"

"No, nothing's wrong." She gave the wall a pretty smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"What is on your mind then?" He inquired, the tendrils of worry creeping through his own belly. Such expressions rarely meant good things. Had he let something slip he hadn't realized? Did the ownership of the cloak really matter?

"Nothing." She clung tighter to the red garment and shook her head. "No, I don't want to talk about it. Can we sing?"

"Of course." He let the subject drop and carefully coached her through some pieces she considered performing, thrusting aside the worry that bit at his insides from the thoughts obviously in her mind.

When she was too tired to continue, he encouraged her to sleep but she shook her head, refusing his suggestion.

"No, I want to stay up."

"Why?" He asked, wondering the child, falling asleep where she sat but stubbornly unwilling to sleep. "Master Fedorov will be wondering where you are soon."

"I don't want to go. I want to stay here."

"Why? Is something going on in the chorus?" He pried, thinking back the past few weeks and failing to remember any problems with them. Maybe that was what was bothering her.

"No." She muttered, curling deeper into the cloak.

"Tell me what happened, Christine." His order carried sharply through the room.

"They laughed at me!" She exclaimed, burying her head deep into the cloak and disappearing completely beneath the scarlet material.

"What happened?" He asked, keeping the anger from his tone and attempting to be compassionate.

"They..." He could hear her lip trembling. "They saw me with the black cloak and said that –" Tears had started, "that someone must have been 'investing' in beauty for a later d-date." The cloak fell away a bit and he was greeted with the sight of her holding her head in her hands, shoulders shaking. "Then one of them –" She broke off and just cried.

"What did they say, Christine?"

"They said that maybe...maybe I already had a –" Her voice cracked and the sobs filled the room, words long gone from her mind. His words also failed him and, in a desperate attempt to calm her, he began to play his violin.

The music masked the tears and wrapped itself around her in the comforting embrace he couldn't give. Eyes focused completely on Christine, an emotional mess, he completely missed the little ballerina standing at the door and listening to the odd pair.