Disclaimer: I know this is not a fanfiction site- however, I had written this last year as a purely creative piece. Thus is my interpretation if the movie had ended differently. Enjoy!
Moulin Rouge-One Shot
"The scitar player doesn't love you, see he flees the kingdom", the disembodied voice of Harrold Zeigler boomed through the stale air. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't even move. She couldn't let the words fall from her mouth; her falling tears staining her cheeks and resealing her lips once again. He had to...it was like breathing, he had to love her. With that look from his brown eyes as the coins spilled from his hand, she couldn't believe any of it was real. Her enitre life was a lie.
'One day I'll fly away', the words raced across her mind as Satine sat frozen under the intense glare of the stage lights. Time froze, along with her figure...two minutes...five minutes...then the music started. The soft chords of the first notes rang sweet in the air, and the conductor noded at Satine- the show must go on.
"Never knew i could feel like this, like I've never seen the sky before, want to vanish inside your kiss, everyday I'm loving you more and more, listen to my heart can you hear it sing, come back to me and forgive everything. Seasons may change, winter to spring but I love you til the end of time", Satine's voice trailed off, and she supressed the sobb clawing at her throat as she gasped for breath.
"Comewhat may", came the voice from the asile. Stunned faces turned to see the Penniless Scitar Player rooted in the asile, singing softly, his voice echoing to the rafters, looking at the beautiful Courtesan. Silence. Satine smiled through her tears. He moved forward towards the stage, perfectly scripted - except it never exisited in the script.
"Come what may...", he sang again, as he mounted the stage, "Come what may...", his bright eyes filling her soul with delight once again. '...I will love you until my dying day', they sang in unison.
He was hers, she was his, nothing could stop them now- not Zeigler, not the comments from whores at the Moulin Rouge, and especially, not the Duke.
The Duke sat in dismay, and never being one to openly cry, let his tears burn to anger, as he rose and stalked up the asile to the exit. This should not be happening, the Moulin Rouge was his, Satine was his- and yet, no amount of money would make her love him. He could plainly see that, it had been evident the first night in the Elephant. It was all a game, a lover's game whores were skilled in. His words from the previous night flooded back to his mind, 'You made me believe that you loved me'. Well, Satine was certianly a talented actress, and in the fantistical underworld of Paris, she was the best, the most-loved, the most-envied of all; a scarlet-haired beauty clad in scanty silk.
Fury took hold of the Duke, and spinning round on his heel, picked up the discarded gun from the polished aisle, and ran with tears blurring his vision-but not having any effect on his aim. The bullet struck- and down went the Duke. Too much abuse on any object can make it malfunction, in the case of the gun, it backfired, and got the Duke straight in his heart- and the sound echoed amidst the screams and panicked frenzy of those desperate to leave.
I own none of the characters nor the storyline for Moulin Rouge, however this One-Shot is 2004costumeforagutterball