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Dick strolls through the labyrinthine corridors of the backstage, his gaze habitually lifting towards the rafters where the scene shifters linger. Those heights, reminiscent of his circus days with his parents, provided solace in the face of their untimely demise due to consumption. His circus, already on the brink of bankruptcy, crumbled after losing its star act. Yet, the opera house became a haven for Dick, allowing him to continue performing in various capacities. Lately, a lingering question surfaces—does his destiny lie solely within the confines of the stage, or is there a greater purpose awaiting him?
Navigating past the war elephants' painted backdrops, remnants of a recent rehearsal, Dick nearly stumbles over a sandbag. Lost in thought, he proceeds towards the East Wing rehearsal room. A soft knock on the dressing room door echoes, and the response comes in the form of Stephanie's vibrant voice, beckoning him inside.
"In here!" Stephanie calls.
The door swings open to reveal Stephanie and Cas adorned in opulent silk and satin ball gowns, surrounded by an array of masks and gloves. Stephanie's dress, a regal purple with delicate lace trim, complements her wavy blonde hair. Cas, in a black gown with a tiered skirt, focuses on arranging Stephanie's hair.
Dick, in a playful mood, serenades them with, "Non le vidi mai sì belle!" (Never have I seen them so beautiful!)
Cas playfully chides, "Flatterer."
Stephanie, grinning, adds, "Bravo! Bravo!" She twirls out of Cas's hands and gestures toward her face, teasingly asking, "Cas is making me look pretty, right? Because she better with all the pins she’s stuck in my head."
Dick, studying the scene, interjects, "She is working a masterpiece out of a rat's nest, God's work truly," concluding with laughter and earning a mock scowl from Stephanie.
Apologizing, Dick changes the subject, "But here's a better question for you, given your dear mama is our esteemed choreographer and is so well connected…"
"Get on with it, Dick," Stephanie groans impatiently.
"Fine, fine… is it true our mysterious viscount, our patron unseen for many months, is making an appearance tonight?"
"Mother has heard similar rumors…" Stephanie responds, uncertainty shadowing her words.
"Oh, how exciting!" Dick exclaims, flopping onto a nearby chaise. "And for the masquerade! The other boys think him to be terribly ugly or horribly disfigured. I’m not sure what to believe."
Cas interjects, "Those boys can be rather unkind. Perhaps he was traveling or ill?"
"A rather long time to be unavailable. He’s missed all the performances of Aida and Maometto II," Dick remarks knowingly.
"Well, he became our viscount hastily before Aida. Mother and the managers waited until after to announce it, to avoid it becoming some sordid affair, especially with Carlotta's disagreements," Stephanie explains quickly.
Dick retorts, "Oh yes, but to be fair, when is Carlotta not in a disagreement with the managers?"
Cas shakes her head to suppress a laugh, "Why do the boys think Viscount Wayne will be at the New Year’s masquerade ball?"
Dick grins sheepishly as he rises to take his leave, “I can’t spill all my secrets, you know,” he laughs, adorning his mask, and adds, “save me a spot on your dance cards.”
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The Grand Escalier begins to fill with the chorus and supporting cast, strategically placed towards the front to greet the patrons. As the cast members assemble along the wide, double marble staircase leading to various foyers and the ballroom, the architectural marvel unfolds. Dozens of arches connect ionic columns supporting each floor, adorned with reliefs of muses, birds, cherubs, and lyres—a grand spectacle resembling a fancy trifle, surrounded by treats curated by the opera house managers.
The orchestra starts with a moderate tempo from the ballroom, prompting Dick to chuckle. The tempo, he realizes, is meant to usher guests into the ballroom. The main cast lingers near the door, aiming to attract potential patrons, while the rest of the chorus gradually trickles into the ballroom. Crystal chandeliers, ornate mirrors with gold leaf frames, and an intricately painted ceiling filled with purple-pink hues create a majestic setting. The high ceiling and cold marble floor amplify the echoes of footsteps and chatter. Tables with stacked champagne glasses form an impressive pyramid, surrounding the designated dance floor.
The managers insisted on the chorus's attendance, fearing low patronage for a popular party. After a few rounds of dancing with fellow performers, including Cass and Stephanie, Dick notices an exceptionally handsome gentleman. His well-tailored suit jacket accentuates broad shoulders, tapering to a thin waist. A simple yet elegant mask poorly conceals his sharp jawline and defined cheekbones. Dick's thoughts momentarily drift to intimate fantasies, and he quickly shakes his head, surprised by the intensity of his feelings for this mysterious stranger.
Regaining focus, Dick realizes he's lost the stranger in the crowd but spots him near the champagne table. With newfound courage, Dick decides to approach him, captivated as he's never been before.
“You know, by arriving now, you’ve missed most of the schmoozing by the managers, but I’m happy to bring them over. I think they’ve already imposed themselves onto most of the patrons,” Dick finishes with a jovial smile, hoping he picks up on his joking tone.
Returning his smile, the stranger takes a sip, “Only if you want to get rid of me. If those two weren’t so shameless, I would have come to these parties earlier. Especially if I knew someone like you would be there.”
Failing to stop a blush from appearing on his face, Dick tries to regain his composure.
“I’m Richard Grayson, but you can call me Dick,” he says, sticking out his hand.
The stranger grasps his hand, and Dick notices the strength in his grip, like a catcher in the circus, firm hands and broad shoulders.
“Charmed,” the stranger says, his smile reaching his eyes. “Despite my good manners, I will wait until later in the evening to give my name to make sure you do not hand me over to the managers,” he finishes cheekily.
“Since you have not offered a name, I have to call you something in the meantime,” Dick playfully pretends to think hard. “I’ve got it! Until proven otherwise, you will be Don Giovanni.”
(**Author's note: Don Giovanni is a character that wears a mask in an opera, although he tries to seduce lots of women - the reference is the mask not the second bit)
Don Giovanni laughs and smiles brightly, “of all the characters..” he lets out a breathy chuckle, “couldn’t be further from who I am.”
“Oh really?” Dick challenges, “I’m ready to be corrected,” stepping forward and now in Don Giovanni’s space.
“Why don’t I show you instead,” grabbing his hand and dragging him to the inner part of the dance floor. Before Dick could grasp what was happening, strong hands held his hand and clutched his waist.
Dick had a hard time focusing on the dance while Don Giovanni’s hand was on his waist and how close their bodies were. The grandeur of the masquerade ball seemed to fade into the background as they moved together with effortless grace. Don Giovanni's lead was commanding yet gentle, and the chemistry between them became palpable.
The music wrapped around them like a silken thread, guiding their every step. Dick found himself lost in the rhythm, the gentle sway of the waltz pulling him deeper into the enchantment of the dance. Don Giovanni's hand, warm against the small of his back, sent shivers down his spine, and he marveled at how perfectly their bodies synchronized.
In that moment, the ballroom ceased to exist for Dick. All that remained were the haunting melodies and the magnetic pull of the mysterious stranger. The flickering candlelight cast a soft glow on their intertwined forms, creating an intimate haven within the grandeur of the opera house.
As the dance floor began to empty, Dick, emboldened by the lingering magic of the waltz, pulled away slightly but kept their hands clasped. “Trust me,” he whispered, not giving Don Giovanni a chance to respond, and led them into a secluded corridor
They stand nearly chest to chest, breathing heavily. Shy, knowing smiles pass between them. Don Giovanni brushes Dick’s hair behind his ear and leans closer, their faces nearly touching. Dick, surging with want, closes the distance with a sweet, gentle kiss. Don Giovanni hesitates, removes his mask, and says, “I wish to not hide my identity much longer. My name is Bruce Wayne.”
Eyes widen, Dick removes his mask, “You are the mysterious viscount?” nearly whispering.
“Mysterious?” Bruce questions back, “I had no idea such gossip stirred around me. I thought my patronage had been announced.”
“It had, just no one had seen you, and your hasty acceptance raised questions amongst the performers.”
“Oh,” Bruce said with sudden realization, “I can see how such things can be seen that way. The true answer is neither scandalous nor heroic, I simply have been preoccupied with work on my father’s company and reform policies with the police. Believe it or not, it was my butler’s idea to donate.”
Dick gives a genuine smile, “No, that does not live up to the petty gossip; however, I must thank your butler otherwise we may have never met.”
Bruce caresses Dick’s face as Dick’s hands find Bruce’s narrow hips, “That would be a tragedy worthy of this opera house,” smiling, their mouths meet again with further passion.
Dick’s hands remove Bruce’s expensive suit jacket as it falls to the floor with a soft thud. Bruce, in turn, removes Dick’s jacket, although with more care, guessing that to be his only nice jacket. Suddenly, very aware that guests and performers are still milling about, Dick pulls back, both breathing heavily. “Maybe we should retire to a more private room?”
“As much as I would love to, perhaps we both should retire separately,” Bruce replies dejectedly."I have business in Metropolis that I must return to, but I wish to see you more and not just in dark corners."
"Only if you promise your feelings true and this to be a proper courtship. I want more than just insurance of my position or you to strategically 'help' in the opera by getting better roles. I want more in life, unsure of what comes next, but I’m not looking for anyone to stand in my way. I won’t be a pretty bird locked in a cage."
“I can’t imagine you sitting still,” Bruce says, smiling, “you’d climb the walls and swing from the chandeliers if left unattended and unchallenged,” Dick swats him on the arm. “Whatever you want, Dick, it's yours.”
Dick pecks Bruce on the mouth, and they turn to put their jackets and masks back into place. Bruce places his hand in Dick’s with the promise of something wonderful to come.
The End :)