I do not own anything related to Phantom of the Opera, but I thank Leroux and Susan Kay for letting me borrow their characters to play with for a while.

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Copyright 2013

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The Angel of Persia

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Chapter 1

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"You hovering like that is not making this any easier! Is there not someone else you could be bothering right now, and leave me to my work?" Erik grumbled as he glanced up to glare menacingly at the Persian.

"No one I can think of." Nadir Khan replied, after a moment of consideration. He stared down at the ranting masked man sitting at the desk beside him and did his best to hide an amused grin. Erik had just returned from the building site and was fit to be tied. This afternoon the Shah had sent instructions about several new additions to the palace Erik was currently building for him. This caused his architectural friend to return to the existing palace angry enough to be spouting obscenities directed at the Shah in several different languages. Normally such insolence towards his Imperial Majesty would have caused Nadir to blanch with fear for Erik's life, but for some reason the Shah tolerated this man's flagrant disrespect, almost to the point of amusement. The Shah was not a man known for his patience or leniency and many others had lost their head or rotted away in the dungeons for far less. Yet Erik seemed to remain protected from such consequences.

Nadir knew it had much to do with Erik's unique brilliance and the fact that he was creating a palace of unsurpassed beauty and mystery for the Shah's pleasure. Even though he understood very little of what he had seen of the plans Erik was constantly working on, he was not blind to the amazing design and intricate oddities of the project. Trap doors, hidden passages and many false fronts were being incorporated to insure that the Shah of Ashraf was not only protected from his enemies but could also boast that he had a palace without equal to any other.

"Does he honestly believe a whole new wing can just be incorporated in without complicating my entire design?!" Erik fumed his hand flying over the page of blueprints before him as he attempted to make the confounded changes. "This will set the project back by weeks, perhaps months! Walls will need to be torn down! Walls that were just erected and set in place days ago!" Another string of curse words flew from Erik's mouth, as the furious genius wadded up the design he had been working on. He tossed it to the floor to land amongst the others that had dissatisfied him and took out more paper to start on a new one. Although speaking these curses in fluent Persian, the musical cadence of Erik's voice seemed to soften the tone of the language, perhaps flavoring it with the wisps of his native French accent.

Erik's frustrations were clear and well justified, for the Shah had already sent dozens of petty changes and unrealistic requests to Erik as he worked. Nadir had grown somewhat accustom to his friend's outbursts and violent temper and while he was still afraid of them, they hardly surprised him anymore. He knew it would do little to alleviate the situation if Erik saw the amusement on his face from this latest tirade, but he was unable to stifle a slight snort. If Erik had heard his inappropriate response, he chose to ignore it, and Nadir was grateful.

While Nadir was a well-respected official of the royal court, holding the title of Daroga of Mazanderan – a chief of police if you will – more than once he had found himself in fear of his life in the presence of this man…and rightly so. Erik had originally come to Persia at the order of the Shah and his wife Shaheen, also called the Shahbanu. As the wife of the Shah, her word was almost as powerful as his and any who defied her was dealt with swiftly and cruelly. It was Shaheen's twisted fascination with the rumors of a wandering magician and genius with a face like death that had originally led Nadir to Russia to procure this man for the amusement of the court. It had been an unpleasant assignment to begin with, requiring much travel and hardship not to mention the disastrous consequences had he failed to convince the man to return with him. Erik had probably not been fully aware that Nadir's life, and that of his entire household, hung on his decision - but to his infinite relief the lure of power in the court of the Shah had intrigued the younger man enough to accept the Daroga's pleading request.

Over the next two years Nadir had been both fascinated and horrified by Erik's abilities and wickedly sharp mind. Both the Shah and his evil wife had put this man's skills to great use, always pushing for more devious creations, more vile means of destruction, until Erik had been transformed into the most feared and efficient assassin in Persia. His talents with the Punjab lasso were now legendary, his deadly ability at hand to hand combat was unequaled and the torture chambers he created for the Shah's amusement were straight out of nightmares. All these things had earned him the title 'Angel of Doom, the bringer of death' and his name was whispered in fear by children and adults alike.

Erik was indeed a very lethal enemy to have and at times an equally frightening friend. But for all of this, Nadir knew that Erik had another side to him, one that had led them to forge a curious bond of friendship over the past couple years. Each one had saved the other's lives on several occasions, as well as the fact that Erik performed what Nadir Khan deemed the ultimate sacrifice of kindness towards his terminally ill son, Reza. For that one act alone the Daroga would gladly lay down his life, if necessary, to protect this man who seemingly needed no protection.

At forty-five, Nadir was a little over a decade older than Erik and he had seen a lot of hurt and grief during his term as chief of police. But more often than not, when faced with his friend's dark and haunted eyes, he knew his experiences were nothing compared to the horrors Erik had seen. Erik's wit and intellect kept Nadir off balance, as did his seemingly instantaneous mood shifts. One moment the younger man would be in a completely savage disposition with violence practically oozing from every pore and the next second his dry and sarcastic humor would spring forward, leaving Nadir shaking his head in laughter and wonder.

Erik was indeed a very complex and fascinating man. If it had not been for his unfortunate face, horribly deformed since birth, Erik could have had the world at his feet. That one stoke of misfortune however had cost him much over his life and even Nadir still did not know the full extent of it…and perhaps he didn't want to. He realized that Erik's past was a long and sad tale of pain and suffering but as curious as he might be, he knew better than to ask too many questions. It was not a subject Erik seemed to want to discuss but he had let a few things slip in passing, a word here, a curse there and Nadir could easily imagine the rest. But despite it all, Nadir could still see some good in him, that spark of humanity that burned within despite how viciously man, in all his ignorance and stupidity, had tried to snuff it out. It was that spark that kept Nadir loyal to Erik…that spark that made him believe that there was hope for him yet.

When Erik had grown weary of his career as assassin and creator of torture chambers for the Shaw and his wife, Nadir feared that with his usefulness gone his friend's life would not be far behind. But when the project of designing and building a magnificent palace for the Shah was presented to Erik, he had taken up the assignment with a renewed sense of zeal and enthusiasm the Daroga had not seen him display in quite a while. To create instead of destroy, to bring to life instead of kill – this was what Erik now thrived on. This of course did not change Erik's dangerous nature and Nadir held no illusions that the tiger had now been tamed. He knew that just below the surface that deadly animal slept, waiting to claw its way free and was kept contained only by Erik's sheer force of will and that often fragile grip on control. In fact it was moments like this, with his friend so agitated that he had not even bothered to remove his cloak upon returning, that kept him wondering.

"You know, this can wait until tomorrow." Nadir said, stifling back a yawn. "It isn't like the palace is going anywhere and perhaps some rest will improve your mood. Creating in this agitated state will only compromise your designs and leave you feeling the need to do them all over again once you have calmed down."

"I neither asked for your opinion or require your advice on this matter, Daroga!" Erik growled, once more crumpling up the paper in a fit of furry.

"If all these changes and requests are so annoying to you, why not quit? Leave Persia and go create someplace where your talents will be better appreciated. I hear that they will soon begin building that opera house in Paris that you have mentioned so often. That seemed to have some fascinating appeal to you." Nadir suggested, remembering how the news had intrigued Erik.

"What?!" Erik's head whipped up to look at the man, his voice sounding like a mixture of shock and disgust. "Leave now and let someone else finish my creation? I would sooner cut off my right arm and feed it to the jackals than to let another man butcher my designs and destroy my work! Have you completely lost all reasonable thought, Nadir?"

Nadir ignored the outburst, as he usually did, and shrugged reluctantly. He realized that the ability to design and create was Erik's life-blood. An almost unhealthy need that coursed through his veins, to see his glorious vision of this palace not only down on paper but soon to be towering above the city of Ashraf; like a monument to his genius.

"Suit yourself, but it is late and even if you fail to see the need for sleep, it is still something I seem to require." He unfolded his arms from his chest and pushed off from the desk where he had been leaning. "I hope you are in a better mood in the morning, Erik."

"Don't count on it." He spat back, not even looking up at his friend, his eyes still a furry behind the white leather mask that covered most of his face.

Nadir shook his head and was about to leave when the large double doors at the front of the room opened suddenly. Only a few people held enough power to warrant entering a man's private chambers unannounced or uninvited and he knew of only two who would dare to enter Erik's. Nadir stiffened immediately and gave a low bow as the Shah and Shahbanu entered, followed by the normal entourage of body guards. The Daroga remained humbly bowed but he noticed that Erik had only turned slightly in his chair to face the Shah, not even bothering to rise out of respect.

"What now?" He asked in a low tone as the group stopped a few feet away. "Are you here to request further revisions? More insipid requests that I am at present not in the mood to entertain?"

Nadir held his breath and felt that oh too familiar churn in his stomach at Erik's blatant disrespect towards the Shah. Would this be the day he no longer found it amusing and order Nadir to execute Erik? He prayed to Allah that this would not be. A sudden laugh from the Shah helped to alleviate that fear somewhat…but not entirely.

"Erik you offend me." The Shah said, giving no weight to the words with the obvious lack of anger in his tone. "I know it seems to you that I challenge you at every turn, but I only do so because I realize that you are more than capable of accommodating my every whim."

"Capable, yes. Willing…now that is another story." Erik responded dryly.

"And I understand that. Truly I do." The Shah laughed again. "But if I am going to have a palace that is the envy of every Sultan and Prince in all of Persia, I want it perfect! And if that means incorporating a few slight changes here and there…so be it."

"A few slight changes…?!" Erik bellowed, rising to his feet and looking quite the Angel of Doom that struck fear into the hearts of the bravest men. "You have me altering things left and right, not a day goes by when I do not see your blasted messenger ridding up with yet another command from the illustrious king of the universe. I am no longer amused!"

Nadir forced back a snort, completely sure that Erik had never at any time been amused by all this. He truly hoped his still bowed head hid his expression from the Shah.

"Amused or not, you will comply with my requests." The Shah continued, his voice momentarily losing its touch of humor. "However, to compensate you for your time and trouble we have come up with a special gift that might ease the tension these unavoidable delays seem to be causing you."

Nadir rose up just then in time to see a look of pure wickedness cross over Shaheen's face. Remembering back to the last 'gift' that was presented to Erik, he gave a slight shutter of fear. For all of Erik's power and strength, Nadir was keenly aware of Erik's one weakness…and apparently the Shah's wife had discovered it too.

Not long after arriving in Persia the Shah had offered Erik access to his harem, a deed that was considered the highest honor to a guest. However Erik had politely refused - leaving the Shah bewildered. When later questioned about this, Nadir tried to placate the Shah by explaining that perhaps Erik's European upbringing made the idea of sharing a bed with a woman who belonged to another something distasteful to him. The Shah seemed to accept this and Nadir hoped that would be the end of it. Unfortunately it wasn't.

Not long after this, at the urging of the Shahbanu, Erik was presented with the gift of a young and beautiful concubine who had yet to enter into service as a member of anyone's harem. Nadir could still feel the fury that had resonated from Erik's body as he stared at the smiling Shah and the frightened girl who was kneeling before him in abject terror and servitude. But what had shocked Nadir the most was the quick look of fear and panic that had flashed in Erik's eyes just before indifference had replaced it. Once again Erik thanked the Shah for his hospitality but declined the offer. This angered the Shah greatly, demanding the reason why he would turn down such a treasure. Quite calmly Erik explained that while beautiful, the women of Persia did not appeal to him in that way. That he preferred the women of his own country with their much more delicate features and familiar allure. Nodding in understanding, the Shah removed the girl and accepted this explanation…but Nadir never did. He had seen the look in Erik's eye and the clenched fists at his side and knew where his true reluctance lay. Erik's face, that impediment that kept him from interacting with the human race in general, had also denied him the one thing he truly desired…love.

Nadir saw quite plainly that his friend was not immune to the effects of the opposite sex, but he was at a complete loss when it came to acting on such impulses. This stemmed from that inbred fear that no woman would be able to accept him without horror in her eyes… and from everything Nadir had witnessed thus far, that belief was quite justifiable. Wherever Erik went fear and loathing surrounded him, the rumors of his face were well founded even if hardly anyone had ever been unlucky enough to have seen it firsthand. On the very few occasions Nadir had been privy to what lay behind the mask he had forced himself not to shudder visibly. No…it would take a strong woman indeed to look at Erik with anything but revulsion and because of this Nadir was almost certain that Erik had never had the courage to even try. He had often prayed to Allah that his young friend never have the misfortune to fall in love, for a blow like that could be devastating to him, unleashing that tiger that might never be tethered again. Apparently the Shah's wife thought so as well and made it her mission in life to torment Erik with this at every turn, purely for the sadistic pleasure of seeing what he might do.

"What sort of gift?" Erik's voice had gone cold, like ice piercing the skin and causing one to shiver involuntarily.

"Since you were dissatisfied with the concubine we presented to you before, we made a diligent search and think we have discovered one that will please you greatly." Shaheen told him, her sweet tone not hiding her obvious mirth.

"I told you before; I do not wish for or require the services of your women." Erik said, his temper rising at the offer.

"I quite remember your reasons, but I am the Shah and I will not have any guest of mine denied such pleasures simply because of a lack of available women that suit his tastes. It took some time and doing, but we think you will be pleased with the results." The Shah then turned to the door and clapped his hands twice.

The act summoned two large muscular soldiers who entered, guiding the figure of a girl between them whose wrists were bound in shackles and whose head was concealed by a long white silk cover. They came forward and stood between the Shah and his wife, forcing the girl to her knees before Erik.

Nadir held his breath, no knowing what was going to happen. He could see that every muscle in Erik's body was tight and watched as his clenched fists trembling at his side. Had Shaheen gone too far this time? Was the thin thread holding Erik's terrible rage about to snap, unleashing the terror upon the royal court? He would do his best to hold him back if so, but he seriously doubted that even the tentative friendship he had built up with Erik would be enough to make him see reason or stop him. Nadir could tell that this girl before them was of European descent by the coloring of her skin, which was exposed by the revealing outfit normally wore by the ladies of the harem – he also noted that her form was quite pleasing to the eye.

"Like we said, it took some time but I am sure you will agree that it was well worth the effort." The Shah's wife said, leaning down to lift off the fabric covering the girl's head which had been hiding her features.

Nadir heard an audible gasp escape from Erik's lips as her face came into view. She blinked a few times, adjusting to the light and taking in her surroundings in one frightened glance.

Erik could not help but stare at the unearthly creature before him. She had the face of an angel, her silken hair cascaded off her shoulders and down her back in soft ringlets of brown and gold and while her large blue eyes were filled with fear, he could detect a hint of determination as well. She was exquisite! No, beyond that, she was perfection itself. All thoughts were stolen from him except one…he had to save her!

"She originally hails from Sweden and we have it on good authority that she is pure and untouched." The Shah's wife told him, again watching Erik's expressions as if looking for a specific reaction from him.

"I am confident that this gift will more than makes up for all the changes I have been making to the palace design." The Shah said, squatting down beside the girl as he lifted her chin up slightly with the tip of his finger. He gave a hearty laugh as she jerked out of his touch and turned her head away. "However, if you feel she does not measure up to your high standards, I find I would not be offended and quite willing to keep her for myself...perhaps to teach her some manners. I would of course find you a different form of compensation for your troubles, gold or jewels perhaps?" The Shah stood back up and smiled a pleased smile at his architect.

If Erik had been upset before, he was now on the verge of madness. Every fiber of his being was screaming to lunge forward and punch the Shah for even daring to lay a finger on this girl. He could not explain the almost overwhelming urge that had come over him to protect and care for her. Taking a deep breath he did his best to step forward without faltering or showing any sign of emotion…and it was a monumental task to be sure. He slowly went down on one knee in front of her and spoke as gently as he could.

"Do you understand Persian?" He inquired.

She turned to look at him but there was no flicker of understanding in her eyes, so he tried again.

"Do you speak English or French?" He asked and this time changing languages got the response he desired.

"Oui, Monsieur. I speak both." She replied back to him in French, surprise on her face as she looked at the masked man crouching before her.

"Good." Erik said, comfortably slipping into his native language. It pleased him to not only be speaking his mother tongue with her, but he also knew that no one else in the room besides them understood French. Except perhaps Nadir who had heard him speak it more than once over the past few years – but then it had usually been in the form of curse words. "What is your name?"

"Christine…Christine Daae." She told him, her voice shaking slightly.

"Well, Christine. Do you know where you are and why you are here?" He probed, not wanting to alarm her any more than he needed to with information she may or may not yet possess.

She hesitated, looking around the room nervously, from the Shah to his wife and then back to Erik.

"I have some idea..." She told him, indicating to her outfit as well as the iron restraints on her wrists. "I know I am in Persia and when I was being dressed a few of the ladies spoke broken English and they told me I was here as a sacrifice to something called the 'Angel of Doom', some sort of devil? But perhaps I may have misunderstood?" There was a slight hit of hope in her voice, but her expression remained fearful.

Erik closed his eyes for a moment with a deep sigh. Yes, it would seem a sacrifice indeed to be given to a monster such as him.

"Perhaps not quite the devil but certainly a close second." He agreed, opening his eyes once more to look upon her delicate beauty. Oh why did it have to be like this? Why was he always met with fear when it came to the fairer sex? He laughed inwardly, as if he didn't already know. His own mother could not look upon him without fear in her eyes, so why should any other female on this miserable planet be any different? "I, dear lady, am the Angel of Doom."

Her eyes grew wide and Erik's chest constricted as he saw the glisten of tears hovering in her eyes.

"Do…do you mean to kill me, Monsieur?" She stammered.

"Certainly not!" He said, affronted by her question. His tone seemed to make her flinch and he took a deep breath before continuing. "However you might prefer death to the choices that are now being presented before you."
"And what would those choices be, pray tell? Although I feel the chances of having my desires fulfilled in this matter are quite limited." Her voice had gained a hint of that determination he had glimpsed in her eyes earlier and he felt a surge of pride for her.

Erik could see that the Shah and his wife were becoming irritated by being excluded from this conversation, not understanding the French and all. So as Erik stood, towering over the girl at his full and imposing height, his black cape still shrouding him in a dark danger, he switched to English, which he knew they did understand. He chose his next words carefully, knowing that to refuse the Shah a third time would be an insult that would not be tolerated. Erik also feared for the safety of this girl, should he no longer be in a position to protect her. For some time he had been aware that the Shah's wife had some senseless fascination in trying to drive him crazy with her unending attempts to coerce some sort of emotional outburst from him. If it were not for the fact that Christine's life hung in the balance, he would have been only too happy to give her a sample of what results from playing with fire!

"You have been brought here as a generous and pleasing gift to me by the illustrious Shah of Persia." Erik gave a slight nod to the Shah who smiled broadly at his words. "Your choices consist of agreeing to stay with me as my willing slave, choosing instead to serve the Shah in his harem…or death." He was speaking now for the benefit of the royal court, playing his role of the heartless assassin that he had perpetuated so well, but it still stung to see that she visibly recoiled at his harsh tone and the ultimatums she was given. Taking a deep breath, he continued menacingly. "Make your choice."

Christine felt like she was going to pass out, the room was spinning and there was a slight buzzing sound in her ears. Was this all really happening? She had prayed so many times in the last week that this was only a nightmare which she would soon awaken from, but it just kept going on and on. First, being abducted from the traveling production company she was attached to in Poland and then forced to endure the week long journey to Persia - not to mention the indignities she endured while being prepared and forced into this immodest get up - was utterly surreal. Oh how she longed for the simpler times with her father back in Sweden, listening to him play the violin and wrapping her in a cocoon of love and safety. But no…now she was a prisoner! Forced into what appeared to be a hostile life of servitude to either a terrifying man in a mask who claimed to be tantamount to the devil or to this leering and repulsive man referred to as the Shah. A part of her wanted to scream that she would prefer death over giving herself to either of them…but her instinct for survival stopped her. Where there was life, there was hope – hope to escape, hope to be free!

Looking once more around the room, her gaze fell upon a olive skinned man standing a few feet away beside a desk. His head was lowered slightly, but she could easily see his eyes. They seemed unusually kind – something she had yet to encounter in this hellish land and she could feel his pity as he looked at her. With only the barest hint of movement she saw him nod faintly to the dark man who stood in front of her; indicating what he recommend her choice should be.

Christine focused on the masked man once more. He had almost seemed sympathetic when he had knelt down and spoke to her in French, but now as he towered above her he seemed anything but. The slight breeze coming off the open terrace caused his cape to billow ominously around him similar to the wings of a large bird of prey and his piercing eyes bore through her like a well-focused flame, burning her deep inside. His dark hair was a stark contrast against the white leather mask which obscured most of his features from her sight. It went across both his eyes and his nose and down to his jaw on the right hand side. It curved upwards from there to just touch his lower lip, the top one completely hidden from view, as it then came to rest between his left cheek and eye. All in all it gave a very menacing affect, like some highway man or masked bandit wishing to strike fear into the hearts of his enemy. It was certainly causing fear to rise in her heart! Could she do it? Could she agree to hand herself over to the unspeakable desires of a man who she could not even see, a man who wore a mask? Why did he wear the mask? Was he hiding his identity or something worse? She shuddered to think of the endless possibilities. But still…she could at least communicate with him and he was obviously not originally from this land, so those two things spoke in his favor. Perhaps she could reason with him, find a way to convince him to let her go? A quick side-glance at the Shah and his lustful stare told her there would be no such hope if she chose him. So with her head bowed in utter and miserable defeat she whispered.

"I choose you, Monsieur."

Erik released the pent up breath he didn't realize he had been holding. She had chosen him! And while it was a far cry from a declaration of willing acceptance, his heart leapt that she had made it. He had already vowed that he would protect her from the hands of the Shah no matter what, but to hear the words from her own lips felt like a small victory to him for some reason.

Erik could see that the Shah was visibly disappointed at her choice yet he continued his wide grin, apparently still pleased that Erik had accepted his gift. But it was Shaheen's expression that bothered him most, why did she seem to be gaining an inordinate amount of satisfaction from all this? He had long tried to decipher the twisted mystery that was her mind - a place as foul and dark as a den of rats – but to no avail.

"I thank you for your 'gift'…" Erik said slipping back into Persian. "…but now if you will excuse me, it is late and I wish to be alone." He hoped his civil tone would expedite the departure of everyone in the room, but he was not surprised when the Shahbanu not only didn't leave, but spoke up.

"Be sure to remove all sharp objects from the room before turning in, Erik." She said teasingly. "I sense that this one might be a wild thing and I would hate for our master architect to get his throat slit during the night."

Erik watched as she leaned over and ran her bony fingers through Christine's curls - like a spider playing with it's prey before devouring it. He saw Christine pull away slightly, but she refused to look up or react further. The anger was creeping up once more as he watched her.

"Perhaps it might be wise to lock her up when you are finished with her, I could certainly have a cage delivered if you would prefer."

"A cage!" Full on rage leapt to the fore as Erik took a threatening step towards the Shah's wife. Any sane person would have run screaming from the room in justifiable terror, but the dark lady only smiled...as if incurring his wrath had been her intent all along. "A cage, Madam!? I do not know what kind of game you believe you are playing, but I assure you that it is a very dangerous and deadly one!" Erik reached down and grabbed hold of Christine's forearm, dragging her roughly to her feet with a strangled cry of protest. "Get out! Everyone get out this instant!" And turning on his heels he burst through the entryway leading to the adjacent sleeping chambers, dragging Christine behind him and slamming the door with a furious bang.

Nadir stood in the room for a while after the rest had departed, listening to the shouts and ranting from Erik on the other side of the door. He heard something being thrown up against the wall and he prayed it had not been the girl. That spark of hope he held out for Erik's goodness was still there… but waning. Nadir truly felt he had been justified in indicating that the girl choose Erik over the Shah but he wondered if she was now deeply regretting listening to his urgings. He lowered his head and gave it a sad shake as he left Erik's chambers and headed towards his own…he truly pitied the poor girl and the night that lay ahead for her.

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Thank you very much for reading my story. I have since finished it and marked it as "complete" however I am still around and would love to hear what you think of it. I treasure every review and love to respond back, especially if you ask questions! So please take a moment to make a writers day - even if you only say two words - I will get it and know you are there. Thanks!