Don Juan Rehearsed

This story was the result of reading one too many fanfics in which the staging of "Point of No Return" is taken uncritically as 'proof' that Christine fancied the pants off the Phantom; it's a performance, people! And some poor longsuffering individual had to spend hours practising the choreography of it with her, and even in the sexed-up movie version it certainly wasn't the Phantom in those rehearsals...

I came to quite like Piangi as a result of writing Meg's chapters in All the Rules Rearranged, just as I acquired a fondness for Count Philippe as a side-effect of writing a chapter for him in Count Philippe Takes a Hand. So here's my version of his point of view. He isn't very quick-thinking, perhaps, but he is essentially good-humoured and instinctively kind despite his loyalties to Carlotta and the 'old way' of doing things. He doesn't have an ounce of harm in him, which makes his cold-blooded murder at the hands of the Phantom all the more appalling -- I'm afraid Piangi, like Buquet, is one of those characters who automatically suffers in fanfic for being a victim of the beloved Erik, which means that he must somehow have 'deserved' what happened to him in order to justify Erik's actions.

And Christine from Piangi's perspective is very different from Christine through Raoul's eyes, of course...

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Don Juan Rehearsed

In which Ubaldo Piangi encounters a fit of temperament, and makes a well-intentioned promise.

Another week’s rehearsals, another week of disaster. The orchestra had been close to mutiny since they’d seen their music, half the chorus were claiming to have sore throats, and even when the notes were supposedly correct the new production at the Opera Populaire left a great deal to be desired in all directions. The reluctance of the leading soprano to fully inhabit her rôle was not helping matters.

Her arms were as slender as carved ivory in her partner’s embrace, and almost as unyielding. Ubaldo Piangi adjusted his hold, sighing, as Signor Reyer flung down his stick in frustration.

“From the top. Again. And act, girl, act! This is ‘Don Juan’, not ‘The Vestal Virgin’. You’re being seduced by the biggest lover in history—” An unkind ripple of giggles from the wings died beneath Reyer’s glare, and he directed an apologetic look at the tenor, who shrugged off the wording with an expansive gesture.

“You’re being seduced by the greatest lover in history, Miss Daaé, so do try to show a little response... and don’t just stand there gawping like a country innocent who’s stumbled across an orgy!”

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