FIC: Piano Lessons
Title: Piano Lessons
Author: Melanthios
Characters: Maestro Forte, Yzma
Rating: SFW/G/U/E
Words: 624
Summary: The Disney Villains have a lot of time to kill. Yzma decides to take piano lessons. And who better from than Maestro Forte?
Notes: This is in my own little universe, which was inspired by Disneyland itself and the House of Mouse show. I'll do more if people show interest, so do let me know if you would honestly like to see more of these sorts of fics. Thank you. <3
'Yzma.'
'Maestro.'
'I thought we'd begin on the young miss,' Forte said, sitting at the piano's bench and leaving room for his new student. She sat beside him gracefully, long fingers looking a little odd now that she'd trimmed her nails. The scientist eyed the composer before running her fingers along the closed fall, hesitant to lift it and reveal the keys.
'The young miss?' she questioned wryly. 'Does she have a name?'
'Amanda,' he answered immediately, his tones indulgent and soft-edged as she'd never heard them, as he ran a hand over the carvings in the piano's case. 'She was a gift from a Spanish castrato for whom I wrote an aria.'
Yzma raised a brow. 'You have gifts?'
'I am a composer, Yzma,' he reminded her with a chuckle. 'I was not always confined to the castle,' his voice darkened, 'and the brat who lived there.' The darkness passed--it always passed, for all of them--and he moved to put her hands in position. 'Let's begin with scales.'
* * *
Forte was both known and unknown, within the Guild. He was one of the fringe villains, but had found his niche with his rampant sexuality and seduction rivalled only by Jafar. Within the first year of being a member, he'd bedded nearly everyone--it gave him status, and deceived most into thinking they knew him. He was so talkative, it was hard not to think so after so many years. Yzma found out, over the weeks of piano lessons, that there was much more to the composer.
For a start, he composed--it seemed so obvious, but Yzma couldn't have imagined the reams of songs he'd written, scores for operas never staged, arias forever unsung. Fugues echoing into darkness, only to spiral with dizzying speed up and down the scale. He wrote her songs, after only one lesson, with a dry caution that she shouldn't think he was courting her--she was simply inspiring.
'Inspiring is enough, my dear,' Yzma assured him, as she leaned on the harpsichord (Carmella).
Yzma progressed quickly, her scientific mind grasping the theory of music and tempo quickly; and as her knowledge increased, she began coming into her own musical style. When she could finally play for her teacher, she made the piano sing.
'She likes you,' Forte said one evening, after coming into the room at the usual time to find his student had arrived early. He listened for a while, and tilted his head. 'Better than me. She knows I don't understand her. You do.'
'She's a woman,' Yzma said, playing softer. 'Of course I understand her.'
A chuckle. 'You make love to her, Signora.'
Yzma shrugged, crossing her hands over as she tried the echoing, broken chords that would make a fugue. She'd seen him do it before, hands moving like spiders over the keys, too strong, used to the organ and the harpsichord, not the piano. Yzma was more than strong enough to play loudly, but the piano could whisper in allegro purrs and mews that could seduce with a chord or a measure.
'Very good,' he said, sitting smoothly beside her. Once, he may have been bitter; but Yzma was like him, like all the villains--outcast and disdained, thrown away once defeated. Why hold grudges toward those who shared your pain? Yzma had come to him seeking his artistry and skill, and it was his tutelage that had wrought such exquisitely sexual music from her pale fingers. 'Here, and here--good--now pick a shape for the pebble and drop it in the water...'
'And pick out the ripples,' she said, well-used to his metaphors by now, as she carefully drew her hands over the keys.
Author: Melanthios
Characters: Maestro Forte, Yzma
Rating: SFW/G/U/E
Words: 624
Summary: The Disney Villains have a lot of time to kill. Yzma decides to take piano lessons. And who better from than Maestro Forte?
Notes: This is in my own little universe, which was inspired by Disneyland itself and the House of Mouse show. I'll do more if people show interest, so do let me know if you would honestly like to see more of these sorts of fics. Thank you. <3
'Yzma.'
'Maestro.'
'I thought we'd begin on the young miss,' Forte said, sitting at the piano's bench and leaving room for his new student. She sat beside him gracefully, long fingers looking a little odd now that she'd trimmed her nails. The scientist eyed the composer before running her fingers along the closed fall, hesitant to lift it and reveal the keys.
'The young miss?' she questioned wryly. 'Does she have a name?'
'Amanda,' he answered immediately, his tones indulgent and soft-edged as she'd never heard them, as he ran a hand over the carvings in the piano's case. 'She was a gift from a Spanish castrato for whom I wrote an aria.'
Yzma raised a brow. 'You have gifts?'
'I am a composer, Yzma,' he reminded her with a chuckle. 'I was not always confined to the castle,' his voice darkened, 'and the brat who lived there.' The darkness passed--it always passed, for all of them--and he moved to put her hands in position. 'Let's begin with scales.'
* * *
Forte was both known and unknown, within the Guild. He was one of the fringe villains, but had found his niche with his rampant sexuality and seduction rivalled only by Jafar. Within the first year of being a member, he'd bedded nearly everyone--it gave him status, and deceived most into thinking they knew him. He was so talkative, it was hard not to think so after so many years. Yzma found out, over the weeks of piano lessons, that there was much more to the composer.
For a start, he composed--it seemed so obvious, but Yzma couldn't have imagined the reams of songs he'd written, scores for operas never staged, arias forever unsung. Fugues echoing into darkness, only to spiral with dizzying speed up and down the scale. He wrote her songs, after only one lesson, with a dry caution that she shouldn't think he was courting her--she was simply inspiring.
'Inspiring is enough, my dear,' Yzma assured him, as she leaned on the harpsichord (Carmella).
Yzma progressed quickly, her scientific mind grasping the theory of music and tempo quickly; and as her knowledge increased, she began coming into her own musical style. When she could finally play for her teacher, she made the piano sing.
'She likes you,' Forte said one evening, after coming into the room at the usual time to find his student had arrived early. He listened for a while, and tilted his head. 'Better than me. She knows I don't understand her. You do.'
'She's a woman,' Yzma said, playing softer. 'Of course I understand her.'
A chuckle. 'You make love to her, Signora.'
Yzma shrugged, crossing her hands over as she tried the echoing, broken chords that would make a fugue. She'd seen him do it before, hands moving like spiders over the keys, too strong, used to the organ and the harpsichord, not the piano. Yzma was more than strong enough to play loudly, but the piano could whisper in allegro purrs and mews that could seduce with a chord or a measure.
'Very good,' he said, sitting smoothly beside her. Once, he may have been bitter; but Yzma was like him, like all the villains--outcast and disdained, thrown away once defeated. Why hold grudges toward those who shared your pain? Yzma had come to him seeking his artistry and skill, and it was his tutelage that had wrought such exquisitely sexual music from her pale fingers. 'Here, and here--good--now pick a shape for the pebble and drop it in the water...'
'And pick out the ripples,' she said, well-used to his metaphors by now, as she carefully drew her hands over the keys.