Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Phantom of the Opera, except the plot of this particular fan fiction and the secondary characters in it. Please ask permission to reproduce or publish any parts of this story, as it my creation.
About this phic: For those of you that may recognise this story, all is explained on my user page
Note: This work of fiction is based on Susan Kay's 'Phantom', and her interpretation of Erik's time in Persia. This story contains sex scenes, drug usage / references, strong language and violence. You are forewarned. However, this chapter is clear of most of the above.
Chapter One
It was a clear starry night, I observed, as I stood on my balcony, overlooking the aptly named 'Turquoise Courtyard.' It was a strange thing that I had lived in the same lavish apartment for around sixteen months now, and yet this was the first time that I'd ventured onto the balcony, I was a busy man, I had little time to squander admiring my surroundings. In accordance with the courtyard below, the balcony was tiled with small glass pieces in varying shades of blue, green and purple, to form the shape of peacock on the balustrades, it was quite beautiful, it had to be said. But then again everything in this palace was beautiful, or so it seemed. There were fabulous gardens and courtyards dotted all about the place, each filled with exotic flowers and animals, tulips from Holland, orchids from China, lotus from India, even English roses had their place amongst the traditional Persian foliage of hibiscus, bougainvillea, oleanders and jasmine.
The interior of the place was equally amazing, every single room being lined with the finest things. Money seemed to be no object here, silk, gold, marble and jewels were used as freely as if they were dust. The palace was spectacular, yet it was my task to build a palace even more dazzling and fantastic, the most magnificent palace in the East, something to sneer at the 'Lal Qila Fort' in India, and make the 'Dolmabahce Palace' that the Ottoman Sultan was building, look like a peasant's hut. Building such a place was no easy task, but a challenge that the greatest, most innovative architect the world had to offer was more than able to rise to. That architect was, of course, me, and when completed my palace would be nothing less than that best in Asia, but then the Shah and his dear mother must always have the best….
The best food, the best wines, the best girls, the best entertainers; nothing was too good for the Shah, the Glory of the World, the Shadow of Allah, and indeed The Khanum, mother of the sovereign, deserved nothing but the very best. The most precious jewels, the rarest furs, and the world's most talented magician; some masked fellow who was seen travelling about Europe, whose tent was filled with the most breathtaking illusions and tricks in the world. I, of course, was this fellow. It was the Khanum's whim, and her desire for diversion, that brought me from the travelling fairs of Europe to the Persian capital of Mazandera, and service at his court, but it was the Shah's wish that lead me to become the architect for his new palace, which was to be situated in Ashraf.
I have never tried to curry favour with the Shah in Shah, but even so he must have found my disposition most attractive as he hired me to carry out more than a few horrors, be it tortures, political assassinations or simply amusing deaths to entertain the Khanum; I was the perfect man for any such task. I knew I was behaving like the devil himself, but I suppose I retained some of the title issued upon me by the gypsies, besides no matter what atrocities I committed, no matter how many people I killed at the request of the Shah and his mother, I did nothing so terrible that I couldn't blot it out with a puff of my hookah, stuffed with either opium or hashish, depending on my mood.
Although I have only lived in Persia for just over a year and a half, it is hard for me to remember the life that I had before I came to be a figure in Persian court society. When I try to remember how I filled my days before I was at the permanent, demanding service of the Shah and his mother, my mind fails, and I am forced to shrug my shoulders. With my time so filled with endless work as I attempt to satisfy the wholly conflicting demands of my two masters, I find it hard to imagine a time when I had endless free time to fill with study and discovery, but them I suppose many aspects of my life have changed since I have arrived in Persia.
Since my arrival, I had been an object of constant interest to the members of the Persian Court, not only for my displays of magic, but for my mysterious nature and that permanent enigma, my mask. The most curious of all my spectators, was of course the Khanum; a dangerously attractive woman with an even more dangerous nature. She was sharp and devious, that I could tell from my first meeting with her. She enjoyed my magic and admired my skills I'm sure, but I soon discovered that there was something she enjoyed even more; torture. Her body seemed to crave it was an almost sexual lust, so much so that they often became rather merged, she had a warped mind, with desires almost as distorted as my own, and a sadistic imagination that at times reminded me of myself. Perhaps that was why I knew her character so well, and was able to please her so easily; at times our similarities gave me chills.
Yet despite our crude similarities, I was not attracted to the Khanum, her nature often repulsed me for it reminded me too much of my own tyranny, but had she offered herself to me, I know I would have taken her. I had never received so much as a kiss on the cheek from a woman, and despite the many books that I had read and the many thing that I had learnt from my time in Persia, sex was still a mystery to me. I knew how it occurred and out of almost morbid interest, had read plenty about it of, but having never experienced it, I had never known how it felt. It frustrated me that I knew so much, that I had more knowledge of it than most men, yet would never share my knowledge with another creature. It didn't just frustrate me, it bore into be and ate away at me, leaving me bitter and resentful of other men, who foolishness lead them to pleasures that I would never know. This was something that the Khanum immediately picked up on and used it to torture me as best she could.
She would ask me the most personal questions she could think of, and then cackle at my indirect answers, she loved to taunt me about sex as best she could, I often wondered if it gratified her, for she seemed to gain such pleasure from my humiliation.
"Tell me Erik, what do you find most pleasurable about a naked women? Is it their large, voluptuous breasts, with their hard little nipples just crying out to be touched by you? Is it their shapely thighs, tightening around your buttocks as you carry them to your bedchamber? Or is it that most special womanly place itself, neat and tight, welcoming and warm, giving you pleasure in unimaginably large quantities?
She would smile slyly, knowing the frustration she was filling me with; finding it so amusing to let me know that so long as I were so very ugly, no woman on earth would want to even think about touching me. I was a disgusting, repulsive creature, surely a woman would rather die than let me touch her, even if my touches would bring her the greatest pleasure a man can give. The palace was filled with girls, beautiful young specimens, trained in the art of pleasuring men; available to any of the Shah's most favoured associates. I was an incredibly powerful man and if I had been handsome I could have my pick of any of them, at any time; but I wasn't handsome and not even the lowliest harlot would not lay her hands on me.
The barmy night air, filled with the scent of jasmine from the courtyard wafted across my face, causing me to sigh. There had been yet another lavish party held in the palace that night, only this time I had been forced to attend it; to serve as entertainment with my illusions and ventriloquism. The entire evening had been a torture in itself, having so many beautiful dancing girls around me; their tight, gauze clothes clinging to their perfect bodies, leaving little to the male imagination. While the majority danced for the entire ensemble of guests, the most important members of court were given their own personal little show as they lay on their divans, sucking sweet meats and smoking their aromatic pipes.
I could not held but overhear the conversations of other men, deciding which girl they would call to them that night, or if they would select one of their personal concubines. Once a man had decided, he would approach the girl and invite her to his bed. If she accepted they would continue to dance until the party was over, and then leave with the man in question, her arm around his waist and her hips swaying form side to side as he showed her straight to his chamber where he would undoubtedly enjoy her exactly as he pleased until the sun rose over the palace.
How I was tempted. Despite my extraordinary abilities, my intelligence, my skills, my strength and even my freakish deformity, I was a man like any other, and it was at parties like these that I became all too aware of it. It was only now, as I stood out on the balcony, that my physically evident desire was beginning to subside, without the aid of a woman to assist it. The fact was that I was twenty two, one of the most powerful men in Persia, and still a virgin, a shaming thought. I looked down at the outline of the large, demanding lump, clearly visible in my silk pyjama bottoms and shook my head.
It was I stood there, staring up at the inky blue sky that I heard a series of demanding thumps on the door leading on my apartment. I wondered who it could be at this hour, I was ill costumed to receiving guests at any time, let alone in the middle of the night, and for a moment I was filled with concern. Yet this concern was unfounded, my door was permanently guarded by two strong Negros, of the sort that would ensure no unwanted 'guest; would make it to the point of knocking on my front door. I stood still for a moment, before deciding that the knock must be from Nadir, the Daroga of Mazandera and my only likely visitor. He too had been at the party tonight, and part of me fancied that he had come to congratulate me on my performance or simply provide me with a little company. After a moments hesitation; (for I was wearing only my pyjama bottoms,) I tossed on by intricately embroidered night robe and opened the door.
I have seen many shocking things in my life, but this was by far the most surprising for in my doorway stood Nadir, only he was not alone, far from. Indeed, he was in the company of two Chinese eunuchs, a veiled harem girl held tightly in their grasp.