Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera or any of its adaptations or characters.

Title: Songbird

Summary: After the death of her father, Christine finds herself at the mercy of an aunt she hardly knew existed. With her entire world changing in an instant, her future never seemed so uncertain. Yet, the mysterious masked lord may just be able to offer her a life unlike anything she ever imagined.

Author's Note: The Phantom of the Opera is quite near and dear to my heart. That means I am also hoping that I can do it justice. I am a big Raoul fan. I think he tends to get the short end of the stick most of the time. That being said, this is not really a Raoul/Christine story. It is the more popular Erik/Christine pairing. I found some inspiration from Beauty and the Beast, The Secret Garden, and the 1993 movie Rigoletto (I so hope that someone knows about that film). My friend would certainly be proud I name dropped that one. Anyway, I appreciate comments and suggestions, as does everyone, I am sure. Please feel free to leave any ideas as to where the story should go, as well. All is welcome. As just a note, too, I simply came up with the name Madeleine for Madame Giry's first name. If it is the same as in any other works, that is a mere coincidence. And now, without further ado…

Chapter 1 – The Death of One Man

The wind howled by the latched windows, rattling the panes violently, and Madame Giry pulled her grey woolen shawl tighter about her gaunt frame. She shivered, not from the cold, but from the eerie setting that surrounded her. It was very rarely that she found herself awake at half past one in the morning, let alone in the restricted wing that the master of the property occupied. He disliked being disrupted, which was the first rule she had learned on her first day at the mansion; and, it appeared she had broken that rule for the very first time in her career.

"Sir," she started then immediately fell silent again, as if she forgot her words. She swallowed, mustering up what courage she could find. At the very least she would attempt to appear steadfast and strong. "Monsieur, I would not ask under any other circumstances. It is just that the child has nowhere else to go." She held her breath in anticipation, awaiting his reply.

There was a low, impatient sigh from the shadows in the direction where one candle was lit. This candle was meant to chase away the darkness and allow some light which to see by. Instead, it allowed mutated silhouettes to dance mockingly with every flicker of the flame.

"Is it not apparent that there are already a number of mouths to feed in this house, Madame Giry?" the deep voice emanated back. Despite being seated in his high-back armchair, for she could see his elbow peeking out from the side, his voice still carried throughout the room.

"Yes, sir," she responded quickly. "I received word that her father passed away no more than an hour ago. I wasn't about to send a return post before discussing the options with you first, monsieur."

"Options?" Though he certainly sounded bored and impatient with the subject, the fact that he urged her on was definitely promising.

She took a delicate step forward. "At her age, placing her in an orphanage or dormitory won't do her any good. Another possible outcome is that she may end up on the street. If there is no room for her here, I am afraid her fate may be left to God."

There was a pause. 'He must be considering it,' she thought to herself. Truthfully, she wasn't terribly concerned what became of her relation. She hardly knew the girl. They had only met once when the child was nothing more than a babe. That was before her husband had died and before she became estranged from the entire family. The relation was only distant, anyway, and it was most assuredly not by blood. She had been married to the second cousin of the now deceased. There had been no contact with any other members for years. The only reason she had been informed of the man's death and the child's dilemma was because she was the only one left.

"Her stay would not have to be permanent or prolonged," Madame Giry reminded quietly. "She is nearly eighteen and may be sent on her way upon her birthday, if you so desire. And, what time she would have here would not be spent in a leisurely manner."

"You are saying, Madame Giry, that you would put her to work? She would add to the household staff?" the master inquired, attempting to keep his voice at bay.

"Of course, sir," she assured. "I would have it no other way. Especially due to the imposition it would put on you."

Time seemed to tick by as he brewed on this. Madame Giry could feel the cold starting to penetrate her shawl, and another chill passed down her spine. She was silently dreading the illness that could be brought upon by this nonsense.

"It seems to be quite a predicament you put me in, Madame Giry," he finally responded, cold and unfeeling. "If I do not cater to your request, I am essentially responsible for another urchin on the street. Yet, it would be an invasion of my space to allow her to stay here."

"I do apologize, sir," Madame Giry said again, profoundly humble and at his mercy.

He held up his hand to stop her, and she obeyed the gesture immediately. "You ensure me that she would pull her weight around here and not merely occupy space?"

She nodded, despite knowing that he had his back to her. "Yes, of course."

"Send word to your relation, Madame Giry, and inform her that we have a room for her here. However," and he added this swiftly, with a snap, "you will ensure that she is aware of her position here and what is expected of her."

"Yes, of course."

"Then I bid you goodnight, Madame Giry." And he dismissed her with a flourish of his hand.

xXx

Christine Daaé stared up at the dark, looming façade of the gated chateau, impressed and intimidated. This appeared as a palace compared to her previous abode. Her father had been a great violinist with the worst luck. So she had grown up close to poverty. It had just been her and her father for most of her life—her mother having died when Christine was still at a very young age. When she had received word from a relation that also lived in France, she had been completely at a loss. Not to mention that she was offering a place to live—this place to live!

It had taken two months to rightfully sort through her father's belongings and to make the journey to the chateau. Though her father hadn't owned a lot, there was paperwork and legalities to go through. In the end, she only inherited his violin and his debts.

She had raised the money for passage to meet her aunt by selling what little jewelry she had and any extra gowns that she found she could part with. Needless to say it didn't get her the most comfortable means of travel, but it certainly had gotten her there.

Christine picked up her carpet bag in one hand and the end of her trunk and began the strenuous climb up the chateau's front steps. Graciously enough, the master's very own valet had picked her up once she had gotten into Paris. But he had dropped her off at the front in order to park the carriage along the side at his usual spot. She did her best to balance the worn violin case beneath one arm, as she was too attached to have sold the last remaining keepsake of her father. Meanwhile, the trunk bounced helplessly and noisily against each step, no matter how hard she tried to mind it.

She had just reached the top of the stairs when one of the front doors flew open and a young, pretty blonde poked her head out of the doorway. "What's all that racket?" She looked Christine up and down with a rather disgusted and critical look on her face. "Can I help you?" she asked. Beneath the snotty tone was actually quite a melodious and sweet voice.

Christine did her best to smile politely, though having someone younger ultimately talk down to her was not something she would have tolerated under any other circumstance. However, she knew that she needed her aunt's aid, no matter what that entailed. "Hello, I am Christine Daaé. I was sent for by Madeleine Giry. Is she perhaps available?"

With no warning, the little blonde girl slammed the door in her face. It took Christine quite by surprise that she was left with a startled expression on her face. Yet, from beyond the exquisitely carved barrier, she could hear the girl who had just greeted her calling through the house. Even though it wasn't terribly loud and she couldn't decipher the exact words being said, she quickly figured out that her aunt, Madeleine Giry, was being sent for.

In no time at all, the door reopened on a different figure. This time it was a tall and slender older woman with graying raven hair and severe dark eyes. It didn't take an introduction for Christine to know who she was. Immediately, she straightened her posture and did her very best to appear as appropriate and agreeable as possible.

Her aunt swiftly glanced her up and down then swung the door further open. "Well, don't just stand there. Come in, girl."

She obeyed and shoved her way inside.

The entrance hall was a large space void of anything except for a round wooden table in the middle of the floor where a unique statue sat. It appeared to be an angel and devil winding together in a swirl of good and evil. It was quite enticing and certainly set the tone for the rest of the chateau.

There were two grand staircases draped in crimson to either side of the entryway doors that met at the top at a common balcony. Yet, they proceeded past these to the rooms beyond. As they went, Christine listened to her aunt explain, "From now on, you will only come and go by the side entrance, which is considered the servants' entrance. The master of the house likes to keep the front clear and clean at all times, for appearance's sake. As you know, I was only able to arrange accommodations for you here because it is understood that you will actually be helping as one of the staff."

"And I want you to know that I am grateful for all you have done," Christine expressed, attempting to keep pace with all of her luggage to tow.

"If you want to thank me then you won't let me down. I can't have you tarnish my reputation and my word."

Christine made a somewhat sarcastic remark in her mind, but swore she would never say anything of the nature aloud. Again, she needed this badly and would do everything in her power not to mess it up. Instead, she nodded obediently and followed like a little dog at her aunt's heels.

She was shown the kitchen and the immaculate dining room, the latter of which was most adamantly put to be used only for the master and his guests. Instead, the staff had a small, less impressive wooden table in a little cove off of the kitchen to eat at.

She was led up the back stairs toward the servants' quarters, all the while being informed, "You must address me as Madame Giry while here. I can't have the rest of the staff disrespect me because you want to experience some family bonding. You have already met my daughter, Meg." She was referring to the pretty blonde girl that had stuck her nose up at Christine. "There is Joseph Buquet, the valet. He was the one that brought you here. Monsieur Reyer is the groundskeeper. You will address him as such, as he has been here the longest and deserves the respect. Dominique is our cook. She will not cook anything outside of the set schedule, so ensure you are present for every meal. Lastly we have Monsieur Lefèvre, who is considered the chateau's footman, but also assists with household duties, as there are not many of us. That being said, there are several rooms that are closed off due to disuse. Try to stay out of these."

Christine was led to her assigned bedroom, where Madame Giry threw open the simple door and ushered her inside. It was of adequate size for one person, with a bed, a wash basin, a nightstand with candle, and a wardrobe. Luckily, she didn't have many personal belongings. She lugged her luggage in and set it down against the only bare wall.

"These will be your sleeping quarters. It is expected that you keep your personal space as neat and tidy as the rest of the house." Madame Giry opened on of the doors of the wardrobe, revealing several frocks already hanging within. "You have your uniform and some backups already here. This will be your daily outfit. Please save your personal garments for any time off that you may acquire."

Christine was glancing around at her meager surroundings when her aunt closed the wardrobe and walked up to her. At first, for just a second or two, her aunt merely peered at her face. Christine smiled pleasantly, gratefully. But in the next instant the moment was gone.

Madame Giry cleared her throat. "Breakfast will be promptly at six. I expect you to be dressed and ready to work immediately afterward. I will also take you around the rest of the property and inform you of your daily duties. For now, though, child, you can rest and unpack." She glided over to the door then turned back one last time. "You may call on me if you need me. Oh, and one last thing. Do not go wandering about on your own."

Then she was gone.

Left alone in the quiet room, Christine took a few minutes to fully collect herself. It was a lot of information and a lot of expectation all at once. Let alone the grief that was still plaguing her over her father's death.

"At least I have a window," she mused aloud, her eyes darting to the pane on the opposite wall. She went to it and, on tiptoes, was able to peer out at the gardens below. With some effort, she managed to force it open.

She took a deep breath, sucking in the fresh air. This was to be her life now. It wasn't as though she didn't have experience. She had helped out her father as much as possible when they had lived together. During his illness, she had grown strong—stronger than she had thought she could be. If she could overcome her father's death, she could certainly overcome this.

Christine lay across the thin mattress, sighing. It squeaked beneath her weight. She didn't realize how exhausted she actually was until her head hit the pillow. Suddenly, all of the stress and strain and emotions hit her. Her eyelids grew heavy, drooping dangerously. She didn't attempt to fight off the sleep that was pulling her into unconsciousness. Instead, she fell heavily into it. It was the first time in two months that she was able to restfully close her eyes.