Disclaimer: I do not claim to own any material related to Gaston Leroux's The Phantom of the Opera, Susan Kay's Phantom, Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical, or any other outside references.
Chapter 2- A Nordic Welcome
One Week Later, Stockholm Palace Gardens
Far away from the intrigues of the shah's court, King Charles of Sweden was enjoying a rare moment of peace in the garden of Stockholm Palace. The weather had been cooperating lately, and the spring was enjoyable after hours of work with the Riksdag. He sighed and reclined comfortably on the sun-warmed bench.
"Father?" Of course, being the king of Sweden never allowed for more than ten minutes of time alone. He turned to find his solemn eight year old daughter Louisa standing behind him.
"Oh, hello, my dear. I was just enjoying this lovely morning." He stood, stretched, and offered his arm to his daughter.
"Master Anderson was looking for you. I told him I would fetch you. Papa," She looked up at her father, fingering the material of her day dress. "Do you like my new dress?"
As they strode across the lawn back toward the palace, her father looked down at the dress in question." It's very nice. But tell me why Master Anderson wants me."
Louisa pouted slightly. "It's always about that. He said that some ambassador is coming and wants you to see him before the ambassador arrives. Now what do you really think of my dress?"
King Charles smiled at her impatience. "My dear, in several years you will be the real belle of the ball. You are growing up so fast. Why I remember…"
Louisa groaned. "No memories! I don't want to hear about my birth or my birthdays or when I said my first words."
Her father laughed. "As you wish, my dear," The pair continued along the gravel path up to the open door. "I guess I have to be the king again. It was nice being no one while it lasted"
"Papa," Louisa giggled. "You are always the king like I'm always the princess."
King Charles nodded as if he had never heard this sage advice. "I guess you are right. It is dreadful to always be king."
"I never thought I would hear the king of Sweden and Norway admit that his job is a difficult one." Father and daughter looked up to see a regal woman glide down the hallway toward them.
"Mama!" Louisa flew into her mother's outstretched arms. "I found Papa. He was hiding in the garden again."
Queen Louise looked at her daughter in feigned shock. "I don't know what I am going to do with him. Always in the garden, or reading books in the library, or playing on the piano..."
"Guilty as charged. Good morning, my dear," The king kissed his wife's cheek before kneeling at Louisa's level. "And since when as my daughter has been telling tales about me, hm? Where did my co-conspirator go?"
"Enough, both of you," Queen Louisa grinned. "Anderson is looking for you, my dear."
The king took his wife's arm, smiling fondly at his wife. Louise scampered ahead while the royal couple followed behind. "I heard from Louisa. Who is coming that is so important?"
"The Russian ambassador is coming within the hour." Queen Louise frowned slightly. "I wonder what the Russians what this time."
Her husband looked as concerned as the rounded a corner and emerged into a sunny corridor adjacent to the audience hall. "Only God knows what the want this time. Last time, they wanted trade privileges and extraterritorial rights. I told them that if they wanted colonies that China was still open. Tsar Alexander apparently had a fit."
His wife giggled at the thought of the large Russian man having a temper tantrum. "Some never learn. But Charles," she paused and looked out on the enormous arched windows, "Why on earth is the shah sending an ambassador to us? I have only ever heard of him sending ambassadors to France and Austria."
Her husband sighed. He knew there would be awkward questions about the sudden appearance of an unknown ambassador. "I wish I knew. The shah sent the official tidings, and I was curious."
"But how on earth are we going to host a man who does not speak a European language? You know…"
The king chuckled at his wife's agitated state. "Peace, Louise. The shah alerted me that the man speaks French. But," he suddenly became serious, "I would be alert in his presence. If the rumors surrounding his official position in the Persian court are true, then he is a dangerous man."
His wife looked at him in shock before glancing down the hallway at Louisa. The girl looked unconcerned with her parents being so far behind her. The king followed her line of sight before continuing. "I want Louisa with her tutor when both men arrive. No need for her to see the introductions."
His wife nodded, still looking worried. "I fear that this palace is going to be turned upside down by this. God preserve us!"
The royal couple continued down the hallway. The queen's words had sobered King Charles, and he was becoming more apprehensive about the promised meeting.
"Mama! Papa! Come look!" Louisa called to her parents, oblivious of their sober mood. She was still young enough to overlook the troubled looks her mother shot at her father.
"Do not shout, Louisa dear," her mother gently reprimanded as the little girl ran back, hair streaming behind her.
"I'm sorry, Mama, but I found the glass marble with the blue swirl that I thought I lost," she thrust the precious item upwards for them to look, "Remember? I was playing with…"
"Your Majesty?" A slight, balding man appeared out of a door just ahead of the royal family. "I do not mean to interrupt, particularly with discoveries of the blue swirl marble, "Louisa giggled as he smiled kindly down at her. "But the Russian and Persian ambassadors have arrived."
"Wait one moment, Anderson." He kissed his wife on the cheek before kneeling down beside Louisa, "Louisa, you must do everything Mama says, understand?" He smiled as she nodded.
"Excuse me," Anderson reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out a large envelope. "I beg your pardon, Your Highness, but this just arrived." He handed it to Queen Louisa.
"Thank you, Anderson. Run along, Charles," she said as she slit the letter with her nail.
"Who is it from?" King Charles watched as his wife read the letter. She frowned and then smiled as she read the second page.
"Oh, Charles! Christine is coming home! The letter is about a week old, but she says that she should be arriving this afternoon with the Count and Countess of Mariestad."
Her husband scanned the letter briefly, "I am glad she is coming home. Three years in Paris is too long."
"She is devoted to her art, Charles," Queen Louise smiled sadly at the thought of her husband's late younger brother, "She is her father's daughter, and we could not expect her to pursue the arts with his passion."
He nodded and handed the letter back to his wife. "If she comes in soon, then I would like her to meet the ambassadors. Everyone will be included in this, but Christine has a better grasp on French, which will be helpful."
"Of course. I must go see to Louisa's piano lesson. I will see you soon, love," Queen Louise kissed her husband's cheek before heading down the hallway Louisa had disappeared down.
King Charles looked down the hallway for a quick moment before turning on his heel to enter the main audience hall of the Royal Palace. His advisors were clustered around his throne, exchanging notes and suspicious glances at the far door. Anderson stood at attention beside the throne as his station of manservant to the king required.
"Ah, sire," Anderson bowed smartly before handing the king a sheaf of papers, "Are we ready for this?" He asked as the king positioned himself on his throne, and the room quieted quickly. Every eye was focused on the door, beyond which held the two most important visitors in years.
The king let out a long sigh. "Let the madness begin."
Meanwhile, in Stockholm
The streets of the city were crowded with the mid-morning traffic of market day with buyers and sellers jamming the streets, looking for bargains. The official carriages and riders further added to the chaos of midday, especially since it was reported that very important visitors were coming. No one merchant or housewife could agree on who the visitors were, but it was universally known that the king was already planning large events in their honor.
Into this crowded urban scene, a black carriage rolled down the Prästgatan, one of the main thoroughfares of Old Stockholm. It was not a luxurious carriage used by the wealthiest circles, but its subtle, elegant details announced it to be a carriage of the nobility. The crest on the door proclaimed it to be the property of the County of Mariestad. The driver urged the horses on through the crowded streets toward the Royal Palace.
Inside, an older couple slept peacefully despite the jolting progression of the carriage. Their younger companion, however, was viewing the city with uncontained delight from the carriage window. For Princess Christine du Daae had not been in Sweden for three long years. The city seemed foreign and stunning after the working class neighborhoods of Paris, and she wondered if the palace would be as strange to her.
A particularly large jolt woke the Countess of Mariestad who saw the princess looking out the window with a mixture of longing and delight. "It must good to be home, child."
Christine turned to face her traveling companion with a smile of pure joy lighting her blue eyes. "Oh, Countess, you have no idea. Paris is beautiful, especially in spring, but I will never be home anywhere but Stockholm."
The older woman smiled at her inherent love of the country. Her father had been the same way, always traveling huge distances to be in Stockholm in the spring. The countess suddenly felt very old, remembering the Crown Prince.
"Look!" Christine's excited exclamation woke her from her reverie, "The palace! I'm home at last!"
The carriage rumbled toward the large circular drive which dominated the front of the large, grand building. Christine decided that the building was exactly how she had left it, imposing and homely, stern and welcoming. Finally, after some maneuvering by the driver, the carriage came to a jarring stop in front of a smartly outfitted footman.
"What's that?" The old Count had woken from his sleep suddenly. "Oh, are we home then?"
His wife laughed at his shocked, sleepy expression. "Yes, love. I'm glad you decided to oblige us and wake up!" The Count only yawned in reply, being too used to his wife's playful jabs about his frequent naps.
Christine exited, thanking the footman who helped her down, and started up the wide steps. "Countess, Count! Please come with me!"
The older pair hurried up the steps after the enthusiastic woman who was scaling the stairs as fast as her restrictive dress would allow. She still managed to make it to the top in good time with the Count and Countess panting in her wake. The footmen at the door recognized her with a muttered, "Your Highness," before the doors swung open to reveal the entrance of the palace.
Christine gazed around the wide, ornate room with awe. She had forgotten how imposing the hall could be, especially when it was basking in the quiet mid-morning light. The Count and Countess were still on the steps, arguing over some trifle, but Christine barely heard them as she gazed out one of the high windows. Their voices faded as the couple moved towards one of the other doors.
"Christine?" Christine spun around to face the wide staircase which dominated the room. A woman with a pleasant face and a green brocade dress stood at the top of the steps, and Christine immediately recognized her aunt, the Queen Louise.
"Louise!" Christine ran up the stairs several at a time and embraced her aunt warmly. Only when she pulled back did she realize a small girl was clinging to her aunt's skirts.
"Louisa!" The little girl looked at her mother, eyes wide, "Where are your manners? You remember your cousin Christine?" The little girl shook her head, her ringlets bouncing.
"Louisa?" Christine knelt down to her little cousin's level, "I know you don't remember me very well, but your mama told me you love fairy tales. Is that true?"
Louisa nodded shyly, a smile creeping across her face. Christine continued, "I was in a bookshop in Lyons, and I found a little book of French fairy tales which I though you would like." She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "And I promise to read you a new story every night. It will be our secret."
Louisa stared up at her cousin. "Can Mama listen with us? Can Gustaf?" Christine laughed softly at her excitement.
"I think Gustaf might be a little young to be listening to fairy tales, Louisa, but your mama is more than welcome to come," Christine glanced up at her aunt who smiled down at her.
"You Majesty, I know you called for me," A large, maternal woman bustled down the hallway, stopping before the queen with a quick curtsey. "Madame Atlan is here…" She broke off and looked closely at Christine for a moment.
"God in heaven! Princess Christine? Come here, child" Mrs. Valerius, who was governess to Louisa, quickly enfolded the princess into a loving embrace for she had been Christine's governess and nurse from the age of five.
"Mama Valerius, it is so good to see you," Christine said. The older woman drew back to examine Christine at length. The girl had not changed greatly, but her fashionable clothing added to her natural beauty of brown curls and clear blue eyes.
"I swear, child, you are becoming the image of your poor mother. Such a beautiful woman you have become!"
Louise smiled at their affectionate reunion. "Mama Valerius, I hate to tear Christine away from you, but she is expected at the audience and we are late as is. Could you take Louisa and begin her lessons for today."
Of course, Your Majesty," With a final squeeze to Christine's hand, she gathered a protesting Louisa and headed toward one of the many palace staircases. Queen Louise breathed out a tired sigh before turning to her niece.
"Christine, it is so good to see you. I am sorry you have to attend an audience immediately, but this cannot be avoided. Both the Persian and Russian ambassadors are here, and Charles wants the family present."
"Isn't it strange for the Persian ambassador to be here?" Christine glanced at her aunt as they walked down the maze of passages toward the central audience chamber. Her aunt nodded as she rounded a corner.
"Very strange, but the man is very powerful in the Middle East and perhaps there will be some gain for Sweden from his presence. The wonderful part is that there will be a series of balls, galas, and banquets to welcome them and to celebrate spring," the queen became more animated as she spoke of the grand events planned.
"I suppose it will be enjoyable to have a mass reunion with the entire royal court," Christine mused, her face contorted in a slightly absurd expression. "Everyone must be simply dying to see my royal self." Louise laughed at her whimsical impressions. Christine was always a performer and had been since she was a little girl.
The pair continued arm in arm until they came to the large hallway which ran along the rear of the main audience chamber. A footman stationed outside the door quickly entered the room and returned with the crier. Queen Louise briefly conferred with the man who went before them into the chamber. Christine smiled as the doors leading into the main audience chambers opened. It was as if she had stepped back into her childhood, running up and down the hall and chasing after her father. She almost expected Mama Valerius to reprimand her for entering the grand room.
The crier inhaled sharply before announcing, "Her Majesty the Queen of Sweden and Norway, Princess of the Netherlands, Queen Louise and Her Royal Highness the Princess Christine, the Duchess of Uppland!"
Louise swept into the room with Christine remaining a respectful two steps behind her. All eyes were on the pair as the approach the throne's dais where King Charles was quietly looking on. Louise curtseyed deeply before moving to the left of the king.
Christine approached the dais slowly, glancing up at her uncle. He was older than she remembered with the stern lines on his face more pronounced, but he was essentially the same. "Your Majesty," she curtseyed, face lowered.
"Rise, child," her uncle was smiling down at her, "Welcome home, Christine. It has been too long."
She nodded before assuming her place behind Louise. She breathed a sigh of contentment as she looked out over the audience hall. The muttering ambassadors, whispering countesses, and swift butlers were oddly familiar, even if she did not recognize some of the faces before her. But a stranger scene was taking place before the throne dais.
Three men stood before King Charles, each more curious than the man beside him. It was obvious that none of the men were Swedish, and even more so that they were uncomfortable with the audience hall being so focused on their every move.
One man stood slightly behind the others, his brown face and green eyes quietly observant of the room. He was dressed in sharp European clothing, but the contrast between his skin, eyes, and face was rather exotic. Christine knew from the way he carried himself that he was a noble of an older family of etiquette. He seemed at home among the courtiers and smiled at the assembled crowd as if they were family.
The next man was European, but his dress proclaimed him to be a Russian. As she warily glanced at him, she decided that he reminded her of a fox with his narrow, pointed face and sly expression. He exuded disdain for his surrounding, and glanced haughtily around the room as if its occupants disgusted him. He twitched nervously occasionally which diminished the look of disdain somewhat, but his cold dark eyes were enough to make Christine shudder.
Then, there was the last man. If the Russian reminded her of a fox, this man was an Artic wolf, lean and dangerous. His height combined with his all-black attire gave him an ominous look, but the most surprising feature was his face. The right side of his face was encased in a gleaming white mask, and the left showed a proud, handsome face framed by a black hair. But it was his deep gold eyes which held her attention. They were exhilarating and beautiful with a hidden spark of danger.
He suddenly caught her gaze and held it for several breathtaking moments. Christine knew she should look away, but there was something captivating about his frank gaze. He smirked slightly, his eyebrow raised, before returning his attention to the king.
Christine exhaled a breath she had been inadvertently holding. She turned to Louise and whispered, "Louise, who is that?"
Her aunt followed her gaze to the masked man. Her eyes widened in silent shock before she turned to her niece, "That must be the Persian ambassador. They say he is quite a fearsome man."
Christine frowned at this. "But, you cannot be serious. Surely, the other is the ambassador?" Before the queen could answer her question, the king addressed the three men before him.
"I am sure that this diplomatic venture will be productive for all. However, I would like to remind you both that Sweden will not stand for violence upon her soil. Keep whatever bloody squabbles you wish to engage in out of my domain. I hope this is clear."
The Russian simply snorted in response. The Persian ambassador however answered in French, "To hear is to obey, Your Majesty." His voice was almost musical in tone, but held a hint of sarcastic amusement at the king's request.
The king raised his eyebrow slightly at the archaic address but nodded graciously. "Very well. Court dismissed."
The courtiers streamed out of the wide doors leading into the residential wings of the building, traveling in their prescribed packs. The butlers and other low-ranking officials waited until the nobility had filtered out before filing out after their respective masters. Finally, the royal couple, Christine, and the three men remained in the large room with an awkward silence prevailing. King Charles stretched slightly before addressing his audience.
"Gentlemen, I would like to formally introduce my wife, Queen Louise, and my niece, the Princess Christine. My daughter, Louisa, is at her lessons, and the Crown Prince was unable to attend the audience due to the health of his son."
The Russian stared at Christine suspiciously for a long moment before speaking in heavily accented Swedish, "Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but I was not aware that Prince Oscar had an older daughter…"
Christine attempted to correct his mistake over her parentage, but the Persian ambassador answered for her in his deep rich voice, "Correct me if I am wrong, but her Highness is the daughter of the late Crown Prince Gustaf."
Christine nodded in reply. "You are correct, sir," she laughed lightly before continuing, "I was not aware that the Persian court paid such close attention to the affairs of the Swedish royal family."
The ambassador smirked. "Hardly, mademoiselle. You father was incredibly talented as a musician, and I always remember a musician of his caliber." He paused, looking at her closely. "I am sorry for your loss."
Christine was touched by his gruff sincerity. "Thank you, ambassador."
The king and queen exchanged a brief glance. The king cleared his throat, saying, "Since you have now been properly introduced, gentlemen, I believe more formal introductions of yourselves are in order. May I introduce the Ambassador Nikolsky," the Russian bowed curtly, "Sir Erik of Tehran and the Daroga of Mazanderan."
"A pleasure, I'm sure," Queen Louise remarked politely, "though, I must excuse myself and the princess as she as only just arrived."
The king nodded. "Of course. You are dismissed." Both women curtseyed to the ambassadors and the king before exiting by the door they came by. Christine sighed contentedly as she followed Louise into the small parlor. She recognized it as the queen's formal greeting room with its lavish furnishing and fine views of the side gardens. A maid bade her to sit in a comfortable armchair while another poured steaming cups of tea into elegant china cups.
"I am sorry, Christine, that you had to be dragged to that, not ten minutes in your own home," Louise had settled herself in another armchair opposite Christine, "But you must tell how you are."
The two women remained in that comfortable parlor for a long time, gossiping and laughing. Both were oblivious to everything except the tales of Paris, the planning of a garden party, and jokes about each others quirks. The Duchess of Uppland, after many years of wandering, had finally come home.
Later, at sunset…
A richly furnished bedroom in the western wing of the palace lay strangely quiet in the late afternoon. Its rich window hangings were closed to the last streams of sunlight except for a single strand of golden sunlight. The desk was lit by a single candle which cast flickering shadows on the darkening room.
Upon a wooden dresser near the western window lay a magnificent mahogany box, topped by a motif of diamond shards. The box was open, its emerald clasp slightly ajar. As the light streamed in through the chink in the curtains, red velvet lining was quietly illuminated by the light. A pattern of silver thread interrupted the plush fabric, forming strange, exotic lettering.
The light shifted and the contents of the box were revealed! A long, silver dagger lay in its luxurious bed, glinting dully in the soft light. The magnificent weapon was topped with single ruby for the pommel stone. Inside this ruby was a delicately craved scorpion with winked and shimmered. It was a terribly beautiful weapon which mocked the peaceful atmosphere and sang to the incoming darkness.
The light faded, afraid of this deadly toy, and the peaceful darkness embraced it.
Author's Note:
The dagger will come in later in the story, so stay tuned!
On a historical note, I have to edit the ages of several historically based characters. King Charles XV was actually born in 1826, and his younger brother Gustaf was born in 1827. Gustaf died in 1852 and did not have any children to my knowledge. The "Crown Prince" mentioned in the story is the third brother Oscar, who later became Oscar II. For the sake of the story, King Charles was born in 1821, Gustaf in 1822, and Oscar in 1824.
I am also self-betaing am trying to catch as many mistakes as possible. I would appreciate if they were pointed out to me!
