Work Text:
Serenade
The sweet lulling sounds of Schubert's Serenade filled the air as he watched the aristocratic people dance. Their dancewear showcased just how much money these people were willing to spend to keep a charade up in front of each other. While he himself wore a basic attire consisting of dress pants, dress shirt, vest, lapels, leather shoes, and an old pocket watch. The very pocket watch his grandfather gave him after completing his art studies in France.
The man whose name remained untold continued to watch until a slight movement caught his attention. Bright blond hair curled as the owner of the hair’s body swayed back and forth. It was a girl or rather a young woman whose eyes seemed to take everything in at once. The artist began to think of the different tones in her hair and eyes, but mainey what shade of cream and white would create the beautiful pale skin on the girl's face. Before he could think, his feet began to move, following the girl's direction before she disappeared.
Where'd she go? The man thought before he felt a tap on his shoulder.
“Excuse me, sir? I couldn’t help but notice you looking at the dance floor.”
The man turned and there she was in all her glory. Bright blond, no, platinum hair. Bright blue eyes framed by long curly hair. Her beautiful lavender dress contrasting with her hair but complementing her skin.
“Cat got your tongue?” She joked.
“No, I, uh. Would you like to dance?”
He immediately bowed. Her shortened height made him seem almost like a giant compared to her. The sound of her laughter made him straighten back up.
“Yes. Actually I couldn’t help but notice you. You looked nervous or rather in awe of everything.”
“Yes, I couldn’t help but find the dancing to be. . .”
“Boring.”
The man stared at the girl, no woman. She had felt the same way he did.
“Cossette D’ Auvergne.” Her left hand moved in front of him.
The man grabbed her hand, and moved it up towards his lip and kissed her hand. Cossette’s breath wavered.
“Marcello Orlando. It’s a pleasure to meet you and yes, I would love to dance. Just not here.”
Cossette smiled and grabbed his hand and led him towards the balcony. Once the pair stepped out, the doors closed. Leaving the two alone on the bare lit terrance.
“Tell me more about yourself Marcello?”
As if the flood gates had been open the pair began to spill their hearts desires.
“I grew up as a horse boy who loved to draw. My grandfather put me through art school in hopes I would make a decent career which so far has been nice. I specialize in portraits.”
“My father owns a company that specializes in fabrics, so I am born in this life.”
Cossette continued to listen to the man as he described his journey and learned that he had recently turned twenty-nine. Cossette complemented that he looked way younger to which the young man blushed. Marcello asked her to wish Cossette replied,
“I am thirteen. Hardly a woman yet.”
“No, you are!”
Marcello stopped watching as Cossette smiled. He continued,
“Honestly it was your beauty and your allure that made me stop and watch you. You seemed in awe and wonder. I had never seen that look and was thinking of different ways to paint you.”
“Really!”
“Mon Cher, I would love that!”
Marcello’s face went red again at Cossette's words of endearment. She smiled and grabbed both his hands and began to position the pair into a stand dance pattern.
“I love this tune. Don’t you?”
“Yes, Mon Cher. I do.”
Cossette blushed and hugged her lithe frame to Marcello’s taller and leaner frame. The pair thought of how this dance would be their last but fate seemed to have another way of connecting the pair. Cossette would mention this artist and her father would hire the man and painting after painting, Marcello would get to know Cossette and finally on his twenty-six birthday, Marcello would propose to the young fourteen almost fifteen year old. Approval from her father was accepted immediately and her mother always thought of him like a son. Her brother seemed happy to welcome Marcello and gram seemed to enjoy that a well mannered man had come to join the family. Yet, those sweet times began to change when. . .
“How long?”
Cossette was taken by surprise by Marcello’s question.
“How long since you began to change?”
“Recently, Marcello, aren't you happy? I’ll finally become the woman I’ve always dreamed of.”
Marcello gripped his paintbrush a bit harder and turned to face his fiance. His eyes were wild, and paint dripped down his arm.
“No, I am not. I had hoped you would stay young and vibrant but all age does in make you change. It changes your appearance, your body, and even your smell.”
Cossette couldn’t speak but let Marcello vent his frustrations,
“Well I guess it couldn’t be helped.”
He turned and sat down with his brush before grabbing the wet towel and cleaning his arm. After what felt like forever, he turned around and walked towards Cossette.
“I-I apologize for my rant. I am quite joyous. It’s just, my paintings will no longer be the same and. . .
“Oh, Marcello. Your paintings will always be the same for me. Honestly think, your paintings are the best and they are perfect. You are perfect.”
Cossette raised on her toes to press her vibrant pink lips against his. Her eyes closed and Marcello wrapped his arms around her and held her longer. His lips seemed almost cold but Cossette couldn’t care. Her lover seemed to be relaxed and that was all that mattered. Once released from each other, Cossette began to leave the room before Marcello’s voice filled the air.
“Cossette, would you mind if I painted you tonight. I would rather you wear the lavender dress. Please.”
The young girl turned and nodded before leaving the room. Unbeknownst to her, Marcello’s eyes went dark as he began to move his material to her drawing room. His mind set on preserving his perfect version of Cossette. For in his mind, her innocence had ended that night and thus to preserve her, he had to paint her in her prime.
“Why?”
Cossette’s soft voice filled the air as she was backed into her drawing room. Beautiful paintings sat along the wall to her left, to her right were the wide open windows to the front yard of her family's home. Behind the scared girl was her cabinet filled with dolls, jewels, and her china tableware. Used for tea parties and hosting.
“Because mon cher, you can’t become a woman. I have to preserve your innocence and beauty this way.”
Marcello stepped closer while Cossette back hit her cabinet. His eyes were not the same loving and kind ones of the man she would marry. Instead, they held an obsessive stare. A possessiveness that Cossette did not like.
“Ma, Pa, Georgie, and Gram. . .”
“They didn’t care for you and would not have let me keep you the same. Can’t you see Cossette, your beauty cannot flee. My eyes fell for the beauty you have, the beauty that I will not have grown into something. . . something that is not you.”
“Marcello, I am not only beautiful, I am. . . ‘
“You are my beauty. My muse, my perfect canvas. You are what I breathe for, what I worship, night and day. Without you, I am nothing.”
Marcello’s arm moved forward and it was the very sword her father gave to him. A present of their future marriage. He walked and his left hand reached out to grab Cossette. Her fear filled eyes brimmed with tears as she pleaded with the man in front of her.
“Please, Marcello. Don’t”
“Don't worry, mon cher. I will immortalize you forever and you shall stay my precious, perfect Cossette.”
Marcello leaned forward and pressed his lips on the side of hers, tasting her tear stained lips before thrusting the sword into her abdomen.
“Marcello.”
Cossette’s spoke, no longer feeling fear or pain. Only hatred and despair for the man she loved. She could no longer speak but could feel him moving her body and posing her in a chair. His voice didn’t even sound the same.
“Yes, don’t move. Stay just like that.”
Cossette could feel lips move across her head, down her face, neck. She could feel so many things that made her feel sick. Marcello continued to spew words of lies. His words praising her lithe form, rose colored parts of her body. Cossette began to realize that she no longer felt him and without any notice everything was dark.
"Cossette, Cossette. Mon Cher, wake up please?”
Cossette could hear a pained voice. She opened her eyes and watched from the far wall behind Marcello as he held her body. Her blood stained and lifeless body was held by the man who betrayed her. His eyes held tears as he shook her, trying to bring life into her body.
“Marcello?”
The man turned to see her ghostly form. Her beauty radiated even more as she moved in front of the window. Marcello would drop her lifeless form, his eyes widened.
“Cossette?”
“Come closer, Marcello. Won’t you dance with me?”
The man nodded and stood before walking towards the object of his desire, she moved back. A look of desperation filled Marcello’s eyes and got closer and closer reaching out to touch her before his body tripped and fell over into the window. Breaking and falling down into the gravel before him.
“Cossette!” His voice spoke as a smile graced his lips. Standing above his body was Cossette. Her look disapproved of the man and she watched as the life within him drained. A sad smile filled her face, yet her eyes showed that her poor heart was broken. Broken for the life she wanted was gone. Her dream of marrying the man she loved, her future children, and her dream of making jam now lost. Lost and all she could think about was it was that tune. That very Serenade that brought the two together and now left them miles apart.
Who can love me? Who will love so much that he will forsake his very life? For me?
Is it you?