Belle: Daughter of a Phantom (Phantom of the Opera) (The Fifth Cellar Sequel) (On Hold)

Chapter 1 - Invitation

Belle's POV:

“Mother!” I shouted as I ran into the house. I looked around me and sighed. Mother must have gone into town. I listened and heard the piano. I smiled. It was my younger brother Charles. Or Char as I preferred to call him. He hated it. He was just like our father. My mother had been a ballerina at the the Opera Populaire and ended up marrying the Phantom of the Opera. Yes, that means I am his daughter. It was strange to think of my father haunting the Opera House. He once showed me the various tunnels and his old lair. But now he almost completely devoted himself the training of my brother's piano playing and my singing. I was his pride and joy. I was his Belle. He almost lost Mother when I was born. I remembered how Uncle Daroga would talk about his fear. Father hated it when Uncle Daroga talked about his emotions but I knew my father was an emotional man. He was also a loving man. It didn't make any difference that he was deformed. I ran my hand over my nose and smiled. Mother always says I am a lot like him. I even have a nose like him. Father doesn't have a nose. I do but it isn't completely formed. My eyes are also different colors. Yes, I am certainly different. I have my mother's red hair and my temper. Father has tried to tell me that Mother has a temper but I haven't ever seen it. She is a so gentle and sweet. I do love her so.

I walked into the music room and saw Char sitting at the piano. He was composing. If anyone of Father's children were like him it was Char. Peter, Char's twin brother is a lot like my mother. He has flaming red hair and big blue eyes like Mother. He has no interest in music or singing. He is much more content running about with his imaginary friends.

I watched Char carefully write notes on some composing paper. Even at ten he is a genius. I cleared my throat and he turned to look at me. His eyes are golden and only glow when he is in the dark. Just like my father. His nose is more deformed than mine and his hair sparser and dark in color. I remembered my father's horror when he realized he had cursed his son. But soon he got used to it. As soon as he realized that Char had gotten his mind he was much happier. Not that he didn't love him but it was a relief to his mind to know that his son would have a chance at life because of his mind. Char glared at me and turned back to his music.

“Char, where is Mother?” He wrote something down then said,

“I don't know. I have been at this for several hours. I haven't watched her every move. Ask Father. He is in his study. Probably on that violin.” I smiled. My father loved his violin so dearly. It was second only to Mother and us. He loved it more than his piano. Mother knows how to play it and only she, Char, and I are allowed to touch it. Peter doesn't bother with it. He has no musical talent whatsoever. I glared at my brother's back and walked up to Father's study. I knocked softly and I heard my father call,

“Who is there?”
“It's me, Father. Belle.” I heard him laugh as he said,

“Come on in.” I walked in and saw him fixing his violin. A string had broken. I walked over and watched his work. I studied my father's features and smiled. Mother said he used to wear a mask but I haven't ever seen him with one. His nose is nonexistent and his lips are barely visible. The skin is drawn tight over his face and his eyes are set so deep you can only see them in the dark. But I have no fear of him. He is kind and when he smiles he is almost normal. Mother loves him and so do his children. I smiled and said,

“Father, where is Mother?” He looked up at me and said,

“She went into town. Is something wrong?” I shook my head.

“I just need to ask her about something. We got an invitation to a ball. I was wanting to go.” Father laughed and said,

“Why would you want to go to a ball?” I smiled.

“Well, I would like to get dressed up and dance away the night. You and Char can stay home and play your piano and violin to your hearts content. But I want to go. And Mother needs to get out for a while. She spends too much time away from people.” Father smiled and returned to his work.

“Belle, you know that your mother likes it here.” I nodded.

“Yes, I do. But I want to go. Will you let me, Father?” He looked up at me and nodded.

“Tell your mother that I will let you go. I don't see a problem with it. Who is hosting it?” I showed him the invitation. He read it over. It was being hosted by one of the prominent families in Paris. I knew the name and it seemed they knew my mother somehow. He nodded and I smiled brightly. If Father agreed than Mother would agree. I was going to my first ball!