Requested by: MichaelaTheWordsmith
OC: Beatrice Marie Daée

"Darling, let your voice be heard. Not be sheltered by the others surrounding you. You need to show the audience who you are and express that through the beauty you possess."

Surrounded by girls in their corsets and stockings, shoes barely on, and the bustling crew of the sets and costumes, one of the opera's most privileged women found herself facing the director of their production. With a firm tone, and clever slogan, the man was certainly getting through to her.

Fidgeting in her spot, the girl crossed her arms over her chest. "And how do you expect me to do that when the pressure is-"

"Don't think what the audience is thinking of you. Beatrice, just block out their distractions like you always do, alright?" Her director smirked, imitating her movements, and covering his chest with crossed arms.

Giving him a slightly forced smile in return, she hurried off to finish getting dressed. The other chorus girls all congregated around one mirror, sizing up their figures in the reflection of dusty glass.

"Supposedly there's a crowd of intelligent folk out there tonight. Wonder what ones will manage to stay after and spare me their time for a bit," one chuckled, causing the others to spin off in a similar singsong way. Beatrice rolled her eyes, pulling her hair into its final curl, and heading towards the stage.

Indeed, as she surveyed the audience of vast backgrounds and clothing, every person seemed to have something unique to bring to the show. Beatrice poised herself by the curtains, holding one in the section between her fingers. Her eyes fell upon almost all the people in sight, before the call came for the opera to begin.

The flash of candles in her vision, and applause of unknown people, started the evening off on an even note. Voice echoing around the room with the other girls, Beatrice soon went against her director's advice and looked out.

It was strictly advised not to do such a thing ever, for one distraction could cost the entire opera a whole lot. Beatrice managed to continue the song with ease, swishing her dress as she walked along the memorized steps.

But her eyes landed on a rather intriguing fellow and she couldn't pry her gaze away. She sang a higher note, stunned by the way he looked at her. Usually men watched her with a flirtatious smile on their lips. Something about this one was different.

His eyes followed her across the stage, as if he was evaluating the situation. Brain turning in circles at just a slight movement, this man seemed awfully too fascinated by her.

Why me? Beatrice spun around a collection of girls, singing another note. The sound came out a little weaker than before, maybe a sign of the stress on her mind. No one ever took an interest in her. She was just an average chorus girl, who performed for a living.

What could be so fascinating about her?

The performance ended, with the outstanding amount of applause they received every night in the opera house. Beatrice looked out in the crowd, to see the mysterious man be the last one to his feet, only to whisper to the person next to him, and nod in her direction.

Swallowing down fear, she strained another smile to the audience. Determined to encounter the man outside of the opera setting, she made sure to be off the stage first.

"Pardon me," she muttered, shoving her way through swarms of folk. Many didn't even stop her to applaud her performance. They wouldn't have in the first place, since she was only a chorus girl, nothing more.

Caught off balance by the amount of people around her, Beatrice felt her footing slipping, only seconds before the mysterious man grabbed her hand. He seemed to have been looking for her too. "Ah, miss. If it's not too much of a bother, I'd like to compliment your performance this evening."

Beatrice beamed, nodding her head. "No bother at all, sir." Unlike her other encounters with men, she didn't feel threatened by possible romantic intentions. In fact, it felt like more like talking to a brother.

"Well, a close friend of mine offered to bring me to this opera and originally, I wasn't convinced it would be worth my time, but-"

"You judged it too soon and you apologize?"

The man gaped, a little surprised by her sudden outburst. "Why yes. I hadn't expected to be deeply impressed by you, a chorus girl, but my mind got the best of me. You have talent, madam." He paused, then remembered they hadn't made formal introductions.

"Thomas Jefferson. Ambassador in this country, as of now," he murmured, refraining from kissing her hand. She came across as the feisty type, and he liked the look of that.

"Beatrice Marie Daée. Nothing more than a show girl, or anything quite as impressive as an ambassador," she replied, curtsying. The name sounded awfully familiar, ringing a distant bell, and she couldn't help but feel thrilled to meet him finally.

"Daée?" His mouth shifted into another smile as he spoke. "Enchanting name." Beatrice tilted her head at this, biting the inside of her cheek.

"You probably say that to almost every woman who you meet, hm? Believe me, Mr.Jefferson, I have heard every little phrase known to be used for flirting," Beatrice laughed, covering a hand over her mouth. She observed how he didn't look offended, just surprised again.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand swiftly, he replied, "Well, you caught me."

Helplessly laughing along with her, Thomas finally could feel at ease for the first time in months. The responsibility of being the ambassador for the country was becoming something more than he imagined. Although he hadn't been eager to come to the opera that night, this made up for the assumptions.

One man passed by them, perhaps someone from the audience. He watched them and then said, "Pardon me asking, are you two a couple or something of the sort? I can't help but admire your chemistry."

Beatrice exchanged a look with him, stuttering quickly, "Oh, heavens. We aren't together at all, just two people conversing." She placed a hand over her heart, astonished at that guess.

The man chuckled at her response. "Fooled me, that's for sure. Have a good evening, you two," he answered, heading out into the breezes of the world behind the opera doors. Beatrice watched him go, a smile forming on her lips.

Thomas leaned over and whispered, "I wasn't expecting anything like that to come out of his mouth. Although the guess is flattering on both our cases."

Beatrice, still staring out the door, shrugged slightly. "I suppose it is, Mr.Jefferson." She felt his body move a distance away from hers, and it became clear he too was leaving.

"Daée." Thomas momentarily looked at her from the doorway, giving her that same look of approval and trust he had during the entire performance. He lifted his head, acting as if he would say something, when in fact it only finished off as a nod.

She watched him exit, not knowing what the next few months would bring. For one of the first and very rare times, Beatrice had made a friend. As peculiar as the term sounded, it seemed to be a fair start to something that she wouldn't ever regret beginning.

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A/N: Thank you MichaelaTheWordsmith for the request! I loved writing this for you, do hope you enjoyed the way it turned out. I'll have more one shots up for you guys soon!