𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘭 [ RE-WRITE ON HOLD ]

xii. | chapter twelve

Belle

The moon shines through the windows of the hallways as Belle makes her way down to the grant hall, clothed in her tutu with tights and her ballet shoes in her hand. It was midnight and she was kind of tired after training the whole day, but she had promised to appear at midnight on the stage.

So she shuffles through the darkness of the night towards the grant hall where all opera's were performed. The stage was dark when she walks onto it from the back, but suddenly all flames of the candles light up.

Belle jumps up, frightened at the creepy scene. She looks around, trying to find the masked man. The man who calls her Little Angel. He was not anywhere to be found, but a loud voice chuckles.

"You seem to be looking for me," a voice asks. Belle looks around anxiously, trying to find the man in the blackness. "Do not find me, child. I am hidden from your sight, yet still there. Stand on the stage and dance.."

Belle quickly pulls on her pointe shoes and stands in the middle of the stage in the first position. She did not know where it came from, but there was the music that Madame Giry always used for this routine.

Her body was on automatic as she dances, feeling the energy flow through her veins. She was dancing and dancing and dancing.. Until the music stopped and she stands still in the end position. The masked man applauses, his hands slowly clapping.

"Brava, brava, bravissima," he says. "Your body moves on the melody of the music. You let it guide you. Excellent," the man compliments her. Belle nods, staring to the middle of the grant hall, because she did not know where else to look.

"Now let me hear you sing," he orders. Her head snaps up and she frantically shakes her head. "Please, no, I can't sing!" "You can and I shall teach you the finest." The Phantom was having none of her nonsense. She was to sing for him, he knew she could sing beautifully and have an even more angelic voice than she already has. Under his guardianship, that is of course.

She will learn to understand that all he will do for her is to bring her to higher greatness. Like his Christine, she can be an Angel of Music. Though he thinks that young Belle will be more difficult to have control over than little Christine, whom he murmured words in her head since her arrival here. She was new, toughened up by the hard street life, yet still a child.

It wouldn't be that difficult to convince her of his word, but still a little bit more.. challenging. "Sing, Wandering Child of Music," he yells out. Belle jumps up on the podium and looks around, her fear visible in her brown eyes. But she sings. "Ahhh-aha-aha-ahahaaa," she sings softly, looking around for confirmation.

"Sing!" She raises her voice and goes a tone higher. "Ahhh-aha-aha-ahahaaaa!" He continues to encourage her to sing higher. Belle focuses on his words, entranced, doing all he asks of her. Singing, higher and higher, on his command. 

"SING FOR ME!" "Ahhhaaaaaaaaaa!" She crumbles, her shoulders falling forward and she sinks to the ground, onto her knees. The man chuckles, the loud echoing sound filling the empty hall. "Perfect, little Belle. Il Muto shall be easy for you, but the greater journey awaits you. Stay within the Opera House's walls and don't let anything distract you from your path. Do you promise me?"

"I promise, monsieur," she says. "Good. Now head back to bed and rest. It will be a long day." She nods and walks off the large stage. Belle feels a cold breeze: something blew all the candles on the stage out.

She hugs herself and starts to walk up the stairs again, back to the attic. It was maybe two in the morning and they had to wake at seven. Five hours is not much for a child, definitely not after this kind of exhaustion, but it was worth it.

She would do it to make at least one person in her life, one person who had trust in her and her talent, proud. With that thought she rests her head on the cushions, preparing herself for Il Muto.