Erik's POV
It was a mortifyingly long time before I managed to regain my composure, and, even once I had, I continued to shake like a thing possessed. How ironically droll; I had always been the demon—the Devil's servant— to all who laid eyes upon me, and yet now it was not I who did the possessing, but instead the heavenly angel who stood not meters from me.
Oh God, Jésus-Christ, Allah… whatever being ruled ceaselessly over both human and ethereal individuals alike—that being that I continued to have faith in, but had long ago grown to hate— she was an angel.
Now that Nadir was gone, and could no longer chastise me for staring, I found I couldn't stop. She was the single most beautiful creature I had ever seen. My anger with the shah upon my first glimpse of her had prevented me from truly processing her naturally stunning, enticing attractiveness. My trembling now was more from the simple thrill and pleasure I got from just looking at her than it was from the sheer, formidable disbelief that came hand in hand with her gentle acceptance.
Acceptance… what a glorious word that was! And now I had been graced with knowing the feeling!
This woman—this vision of divinity—with a smile great artists could slave over and never truly perfect, had approached me on her own accord. She, with those perfectly symmetrical features a sculptor could attempt but not succeed in impeccably replicating, had taken off my mask without so little as a wince. And she, with a body the greatest ballerinas would weep in envy over… she had touched me, spoken words of sympathy—soft and low—in that enchanting little voice of hers. Caressed my naked face as her eyes stared blankly ahead, unafraid! And all close enough that I could have pulled her to me, repaying her compassionate gestures with desperate ones of my own upon her faultless, creamy skin—
'No! Where has your self-control gone, you filthy animal! Restrict your thoughts!' I internally scolded myself.
I knew myself quite well by this time in my existence—having had to spend every moment of my life in my own, lonesome company had made that rather inevitable. Thus I knew, above all, be it fury or love, that I was a very passionate man. The most innocent breath of a thought had the precarious potential to topple the pedestal I'd just placed her on, rightfully out of my doomed reach, in even the briefest of absentminded moments. 'She must not cross your mind, dwell on your lips, haunt your dreams, taunt your… desire…'
I suddenly could not decide whether I was finally being rewarded or simply punished more cruelly than usual.
In one light, a woman had been sent into my life, albeit under ghastly circumstances. A beautiful woman who could not have judged my horror of a face even if her kind heart had allotted her to do so… because she was blind. It was as if she had been handcrafted by Fate to suit me perfectly! And, on top of it all, she was sensibly levelheaded (apart from her unfathomable lack of fear of me), witty, and poised—while others subconsciously or intentionally cowered upon first meeting me, she had stood tall and openly mocked me with sarcasm. Even after I had bruised and marred her long, elegant neck with a grasp locked to kill…
But on the other hand, a beautiful, open-minded, and endlessly alluring woman had been sent into my life… and I could not so much as look at her without wishing to punish myself as if for the most malicious of sins. The need to protect her in this god-awful country that had already taken so much from her was completely uncontainable. Yet, I knew as long as I did she would greet me each day as an irrepressible reminder of my humanity and a derisive icon of my inability to take part in it like any other man could. Attempting to befriend me—heaven only knows why, the poor girl—when no one else had ever dared try. Touching me and laughing at me whilst simultaneously mocking me with her sweetness, her beauty, her innocence, her inadvertent appeal…
'Perhaps,' I thought with a groan, 'I should begin praying again; this is going to require either divine intervention or a hell of a lot of luck.'
"Erik, please do tell me if I am about to trip over something. I would indeed hate breaking an ankle so utterly unimpressively after coming out nearly unscathed from my dramatically hellish journey here," she said abruptly with a smirk that made me choke on my own breath. She had begun to wander about the room with surprising grace, arms outstretched and her now bare feet never fully leaving the floor in her apparent desire to know the area… probably to seek out all potential escape routes. My chest collapsed in disheartenment, though I cursed it for being so easily affected by such a new curiosity in my life. Still, like a child seeking comfort from a reality they did not want to admit, I rose to my feet, reticently asking, "Is there something in particular you are looking for, Mademoiselle?"
"Yes; a place to discard that wretched formality, if you please," she laughed, leaving me doubly awed, before turning her head back in my general direction and continuing, "Really, Erik, you must feel free to call me Serena. And, to answer your question more precisely, no. I am just exploring, getting a feel for this place in which I now will be living."
I sighed, her words irking me with their hint of sorrow. "Again, my dear, you need only say the word and I will build you a whole new palace for your use, and your use alone," I reminded her.
She shook her head, chuckling softly. God, did she have any idea whatsoever how much her laugh struck me? Even my newest, most masterful composition could not rival the rich sound of its melodic joy; another shudder ran through me like a cloud of opium… pure, aching, ecstasy…
"That is a tremendously chivalrous offer, and I appreciate it, but I must decline. I have heard you are a very busy man, and I would not want to burden you with such a task when I am slowly becoming convinced that I will be quite content here," she assured me, waving a hand about to gesture around the room, hitting my piano in the process. "Oh!" she cried out in surprise, and the exclamation alone brought me a few steps closer to ensure she was not hurt, "What is this?"
"My piano, forgive me. I should have warned you of your proximity to it," I replied. I was about to apologize once more when her entire face lit up with a beam, and, before I could utter another sound, she had fumbled her way to the bench of the instrument and put her fingers on its sleek keys. "Oh, damn—I mean… pardon me… I forgot that standard pianos are not fashioned with braille," she sighed, then gestured me closer. I approached her mechanically with unreserved fascination.
She turned her head towards me and cautiously put her right hand out, pawing at the lapel of my jacket. My heart ascended like a raven into my throat, throbbing mercilessly and tellingly. 'This gesture means nothing to her,' I had to reiterate over and over in my head like a prayer, 'she is simply trying to assure herself of your presence. Communicating in one of the only ways she can. Nothing. It is nothing...'
"Is my left thumb on middle C?" she asked me, her finger tapping my chest as she waited for an answer. I could merely nod dumbly for a moment, before realizing even more stupidly that she could not see such a silent, physical response. "Yes, Serena…" I managed, "your left hand is in its correct position." 'And your right is on me, over my core— can you feel its tension and hammering with my pulse?'
"Oh, good! I am not irreparably out of practice, then…" she smiled, pulling her right hand (regrettably, but perhaps more safely with regard to her wellbeing) away from me, briefly touched it to her left, then counting out the crevices between the keys by running her fingers over them and putting it in its correct place. As usual, I had been right… she was musical. Oh, why? Why?
She began to play a flowing sonata I immediately recognized as part of Mendelssohn's Sonata in E major. I listened with a childlike wonder; I could not for the life of me wrap my mind around this strange, captivating woman, and that inability was both interminably frustrating and almost addictively exhilarating. My God, she was like opium or morphine: I was both appalled by my own indifference to the dangers such a penchant proposed, and yet was both unwilling and unable to even attempt to stop, to stay far away.
Exactly eight minutes and fourteen seconds later (yes, I counted each lovely second of her sweet music), she finished the portion of the piece and transitioned smoothly into another, this one a slower composition: Schubert's D. 960 in B-flat major. I was enraptured, completely lulled by the music she was creating… and she didn't even look like she was trying! She was playing from her memories, her expression slightly wistful and heartbreakingly, hauntingly lovely; her vacant eyes seeming to come to life to sigh in melancholy but peaceful acceptance.
Those eyes… there was not a single unappealing thing about this girl's physique, not even her blind, dead eyes! They couldn't even be called dead… they were clouded and sightless but even, dare I say it, livelier than most. They glowed with the secrets of a life I couldn't even begin to fathom, a capacity I had never before witnessed from a mere mortal. They twitched as she listened, but instead of radiating an unsettling aura they appeared to be laughing merrily at their evasion of the cruel world around them— their being closed to those whose gazes glimpsed, judged, and hated. A burning envy settled in my throat; she had been born with a defect and yet even that defect was perfectly beautiful. Damn her for being so fortunate; damn her for receiving the privilege of living among others and being loved in return. Damn those eyes of icy, winter-blue clarity which also retained fires of kindness and wit. Damn her for laughing and smirking and unconsciously tempting me… for playing so cherubically that my knees begin to fail me, and I find myself sinking into a chair so as to completely give into her music…
She hit a sour note in her playing, and her face puckered in first a scowl, then in adorable determination as she replayed the section correctly. 'A thing of beauty is a joy forever,' I thought with a strange mix of bitterness and desire as I stared longingly at that endearing little scowl, 'even when it makes a mistake while playing the piano, leading to one of the most delightful, elegant, completely-and-utterly kissable pouts I have ever seen—'
No, I mustn't think that way!
'Damn it to hell…' I inwardly groaned, wishing I could sink down in my chair and disappear without her extraordinarily sensitive ears catching me in the act and asking what was wrong. So instead, my hands gripped the arms of the chairs with fervency enough to splinter it, as I abruptly realized that the moment I let go, I would bound to her side and whisk her off the bench, exchanging her Schubert for my Don Juan.
Oh God... why me? Wasn't the curse of my deformity punishment enough? How could any man be expected to withstand this… withstand her? Without crushing her to him and dragging her back to his bed like a lion does a graceful gazelle, that is…
I closed my eyes to block out at least half of her siren's spell; if I could not see her, she could only affect me with her music. And that was an easier fix: apart from the occasional misplayed note, I could sit back and pretend it was I playing, not her, not this exceptional girl who had been brought here for me…
A girl who I had just sworn to protect, who was now my responsibility as long as she was under my jurisdiction. Merde, what a borderline hilarious contradiction that was! I had promised to guard her wellbeing, to shield her from harm… and yet the thing I would spend most of my time protecting her from was the very monster that lay in wait inside me.
That next moment, she began to play "Der Lachende Lied" from Die Fledermaus, and as the piano shook and jounced with laughter, I thought it almost laughably appropriate when matched with my frantic thoughts. 'Mon Dieu' was certainly right.
I took a deep breath in an attempt to settle down, sitting back in the chair and focusing solely on the music… letting the melody wash over me like a violent, all-encompassing tidal wave—drowning everything else around it. But unfortunately, that included shutting out entirely my sense of time, my line of sight, my ears towards anything other than the notes soaring out from the piano…
…at least until the music abruptly stopped, accompanied by an alarmed gasp from Serena's immaculately soft lips.
Now… it must be understood that my instincts are impulsive, aggressive, inhuman things. And they do not like to be awakened… or to have their music taken from them.
"Who are you? How did you get in here?" I snarled with a savage ferocity that surprised even me for a moment. I sprang out of my chair like lightning from a storm cloud, ready to strike swiftly and deftly before watching my target burn in the heat of my destruction. The exclamation came out in Persian, which flowed instinctively out of me now, having acted as my primary and conventional language for some time. I hardly even noticed it when I switched languages now. My head was a personal workshop from which I could extract tools of impeccably perfected tongues—eight, to be exact— at any given moment, without a single hesitation or uncertainty… even in an instant of unbridled wrath such as this.
The first thing I perceived was a small jump on Serena's part, obviously shaken by my animalistic growl. Then, just past her, I focused in on the offenders: two women of the harem who each let out a bloodcurdling scream in response to my threatening stance. But their cries couldn't save them now; they had dared waltz into the cage of the beast and dared prod him while he was at rest… and now they would pay.
I advanced toward them, my teeth grit and my eyes practically aflame in their unnatural yellowness. I towered above them ominously, knowing I looked a vision of Death Himself in my black and red clothing, my face bare and skeletal as I stared down at them, seething. I was surprised at this point that they could still make any sound, let alone continue to scream and cower still. Perhaps they were of the Khanum's personal attendance and had simply been numbed to my distortion; she frequently had me take off my mask for her own sadistic pleasure, leaving her girls fainting in horror.
"I asked you a question!" I roared, the sheer volume of my voice rattling the floor.
"Th-the Khanum sent us!" one of the girls squeaked, obviously petrified as she stumbled over her own words in her mind's rush to sprint away in her terror.
"On what grounds?!" I hissed, exasperated and enraged simultaneously: a deadly combination of sentiments when it comes to my damnable temper.
"Sh-she wanted us to p-prepare the girl!" the second woman piped up, bursting into sobs the moment she'd finished the last word, "Wash her, anoint her with oils and herbs… get her into fresh clothing!"
"We meant n-no harm! We were simply following orders!" the first added, beginning to cry herself, "please… don't hurt us! G-get away from us! You and your h-horrible face…"
The tears did nothing to tame my beastly, searing anger… I had made far too many women scream and cry in my life for it to stun me with grief any longer. It neither surprised not affected me….
…after all, this face had even driven one to a ghastly death off a lovely Italian balcony.
"Couldn't you see we were busy?" I barked, my hand slipping discreetly into the inside of my waistcoat, clasping around my little red noose. But before I could take hold of it, a sudden, irritated huff shattered the tension quickly climaxing in the room…
"Good Lord; why on earth are you crying? Here you are, sneaking into a man's chambers uninvited, and you expect him not to be, at the very least, surprised and defensive when you approach?" It was Serena speaking, her beautiful, flowing French registering with my ears alone, "And then you do nothing but cower as he questions you about… well, about something? How dare you treat such a prominent figure of the shah's court that way! Very disrespect—"
By then, both mine and the girls' eyes were on her, wide with perplexity and fascination. I, because though she should be cringing and trembling alongside these women, faced with the pinnacle of my ire, she was… she was defending me. Me, the murderer in the room!
The khanum's servants, on the other hand, were blinking in pure, unadulterated oblivion at every one of her words besides "the shah". She seemed to sense this at the end of her reprimanding, stumbling over to them and taking one of their hands. "Oh, that's right…" she said with a chuckle, "you don't speak French; don't understand me. I can feel the confusion radiating off of you…" at this point, she smiled in sweet innocence, and the girls smiled back, unmindful of her words and yet assured by her lovely expression that they were kind ones!
"Poor dears. I'm sorry I cannot be more accommodating to you in that sense. I suppose I will try to learn Persian eventually… wouldn't want to cause you any more mental strain than I already have," she continued casually, retaining her smile as the harem girls began to coddle her, "though, and forgive me, I don't seem to be the first thing to ever cause you distress with regard to your intelligences… you're staring at me like I am some sort of mindless, helpless creature when in truth you care too much for silks, jewels, and hair ribbons to fill your heads with anything more useful…"
I burst out laughing, making the two women jump once again. I couldn't help myself; had this sharp girl just used the idiocy of her two holier-than-thou caretakers to openly mock them behind the façade of a smile, so they couldn't realize what she was doing if they tried? Even now, she pawed at their arms with that same, adorable smile, lulling them into a false sense of security as they began to coo and cosset her once more.
"So very pretty!" they were giggling, their unease forgotten as they too fell under her spell, "what a rare gem of a pet, with hair like that! And oh, so sweet! Listen to her, trying to talk to us!"
This only spurned my roaring mirth further, earning me some very wary looks from the girls. But Serena simply winked in my general direction before continuing, "Now, I don't know what you want, but I think now that things have calmed down a bit, we can certainly get you what you came for, yes? And Monsieur Erik, in return, gets to see you unknowingly humiliated, since I know you won't instead be apologizing to him for reacting so shallowly to his countenance."
"They… they want to give you a bath, and get you into some new clothes, my dear," I responded in French to her indirect question, a whole new current of amazement hitting me as I finally processed what she had just done. She had seen—though, of course, she was blind—a storm brewing, and, to save herself and these two strangers she knew nothing about, she had built a sturdy shelter of humor and wit around them until the havoc had subsided. And I had fallen right into place in her plan, so smoothly that I hadn't even realized my anger had evaporated until I found myself laughing from the pure joy of listening to her!
And oh, how good it felt to laugh!
I have been here in Persia for nearly a year, and I do not think I have laughed a single time. Hell, this is the first time I've truly laughed—sinister chuckles and harsh snorts not included—in years. When had I ever had occasion to, until this enchanting little woman came along? When I was locked in a cage, on gypsy display? When I was dodging the spoiled attentions of Master Giovanni's Luciana? And certainly not here, in this city of death and deception! And now, it was nearly frightening to hear, this tangible sound of how tight a hold she had on me already.
"A bath, eh?" she cocked her head, and whether she was listening for something or merely thinking, I could not tell, "the khanum sent women to come run a bath and wash me… hm… is she expecting you to join me, then?"
I froze where I stood, the simplistic words slamming into me and spurning my stallion-like heart into a wild gallop once more. Oh, sweet mercy… why on earth would she use such dangerously tempting language? Did she not know what a flesh-eating monster she was teasing? The mere thought of her… sitting on the edge of the tub as it was filled with perfumed oils, delicately stripping herself of her clothing before I descended upon her, taking her in my arms and feeling her burning, naked skin upon mine—oh, what cruel torture was this? I had made her a promise...
…and yet how deliciously easy it would be to retract that promise here and now, taking her for my own after all. 'Yes, Serena,' I would say with a feigned sigh, 'she will be. She might even come in to check; we must be ready, just as a precaution…'
'No! Wicked, wicked, wicked creature! You shall burn in hell, Erik; how dare you mentally corrupt an angel…'
"No, my dear," I finally sputtered, "she simply sent them to make you more comfortable. You've had a long and—forgive me, as it is no fault of yours—hygienically neglectful journey, and so she sent these women in to help you get cleaned up and freshly clothed."
"I am perfectly capable of bathing myself…" she replied, raising an eyebrow, "but either she doesn't realize that, or—"
"Their instructions, specifically, are to 'prepare' you for my use," I cut her off with a mortified sigh, "so they will be applying ceremonial oils and probably massaging you as well. And their lives depend on the completion of this task as much as yours did in my accepting you."
She grew quiet, and one of the girls waved a hand in front of her cloudy, sightless eyes. Serena sighed, "Do they realize that though I cannot see her hand before my dead eyes, I can still feel the breeze of the motion crashing into my face?"
"Just because they perform their ritual does not mean I have changed my mind about my vow, Serena," I interposed, knowing she had only changed the subject in the first place out of fear of the topic at hand, "They will get you washed up and ready for bed, certainly, but after that they will leave and I will not so much as touch you."
"I know," she said kindly, "you were obviously raised in the ways of a French gentleman, and I cannot tell you how grateful I am for that." Ha! She had no idea how I was raised. I was not taught the ways of a gentleman; I was taught the ways of an abused animal—how to hide and how to stay quiet and how to dodge blows! But I did not tell her such, and a moment later she leaned forward, waving at the air until she found my hand and took it, much to the confusion of the harem girls, "I trust you."
And there it was, my final condemnation. 'You should not trust me, not now or ever!' I longed to scream, 'you have not heard my thoughts… the things I long to do to you!'
But at the same time, that proclamation of trust instantly became another, final fortification around her—one I could not break without a death wish in mind. I could never, not that she had placed it in me, betray the confidence of this innocent, kind-hearted woman. Not without being subsequently crushed by the weight of my own conscience. She had inadvertently saved herself all over again.
"Very good," I replied, forcing a smile, "then go get your bath. It is getting late, and you'll be much more comfortable when you lie down to sleep tonight if you're fresh and clean first."
"Alright. Thank you, Erik," she nodded, gracing me with one of her brilliant smiles. I gave the order to the by now extremely disoriented harem girls, who bowed in relief at their being allowed to stay and complete their task before leading Serena into the washroom.
I walked to my desk and sat down, staring at the blueprints I should be editing if I ever hoped to keep my strict building agenda on schedule. But a heartbeat later they were swimming off the page, dancing like a corps de ballet out of Focus's fragile reach. For how could I even attempt to concentrate when I knew that a real, breathing, stunning young woman sat obediently in the room just next door? That there was only a thin, wooden barrier between this gloriously beautiful but naked and vulnerable creature of the light, and I, the shunned Prince of Shadows, who had never known the rich pleasure of being with a woman because of my repulsive deformity…
Oh, how vulgar and evil I felt with each passing thought. Why was it that I couldn't control myself for the sake of this poor girl, after what she had done for me today? For she was such a good, benevolent, docile girl… or, at the very least, she knew when a battle she partook in was a losing one. One tiny resistance here could get her killed; she knew that from what Nadir had told her and other circumstances had hinted. But she was smart enough that—if she played her cards just so—she would not only survive, but perhaps even walk away with some benefits to her name. From her worthless "fiancé", that is… had I not practically promised her the world on a string just a few moments prior? Mon dieu, I was going soft. Was I truly going to allow myself to roll subserviently onto my back like a mutt simply because she had stroked my ravaged face in the right places?
'Yes,' a voice inside my mind answered with a spiteful sneer, 'you may have built up an untouchable air about your exterior these past few years, you insufferable corpse, but you will never truly be anything other than the greatest of wretches from the crown of your deformed head to your overtly bony feet.'
And he was right.
No doubt I would eventually—or perhaps in an even nearer future than that—be willing to jump from the guard's tower if she told me to. I'd always had that sort of love, tirelessly and unconditionally devoted, for the most beautiful things of God's creation. It was the very reason I had been perpetual slave to trying to earn my mother's love.
And if Serena didn't fall under that particular category of immaculate entities, hold one of the highest places on that heavenly inventory, I didn't know what could.
But now she was trapped in the doubtlessly unwanted care of a creature straight from hell. It was a quintessential formula for catastrophe.
And what on God's green earth was I supposed to do to ensure we both survived it? I could feel myself paling at the thought, a sensation I hadn't had to worry about for several years now. It normally took much more than a simple, passing thought to shake me… I suppose today was just a sudden and undeniable anomaly.
I had promised her life and freedom within this new prison she would now be forced to call home… but how long would I be able to deceive the most powerful people in the country to ensure that? They could know by tomorrow, goddammit, if I didn't think quickly. They could know as soon as she stepped out in the morning, just by her obviously and glaringly virginal, faultless countenance! And then they would kill her… and perhaps me too, if the mood was right for an accusation of deception against their most prized court assassin. Merde; why must my remarkable mind be blank of schemes and machinations now, of all times? No one else could die because of me!
The Khanum's coerced ritual took a bit over an hour, and I scoured my mind frantically for a solution until the moment the washroom door opened back up. I considered escape routes, illusions, bribes, risks…
But what little progress I had made in her absence all disappeared as if it had never existed as soon as she stepped back into the room.
I was first hit with the most mesmerizingly delectable haze of aromas I had ever before inhaled. Rose, vanilla, sweet licorice root… citrus, lavender, lemon… Saigon marshmellow leaf and cinnamon bark. All of my favorite scents in the world in one, irresistible breath. It was better than opium, hashish… and yet I could not bring myself to continue inhaling it; I held my breath, and I would not turn around.
What a sly snake the Khanum was! Just under a month ago, she had come to me after a demonstration, requesting I list out my most favorite fragrances. "I will have them imported!" she had said to me as I'd begun to protest this useless exercise, "and then they can be infused with your daily doses of ecstasy… you will love what I create for you, I'm sure of it."
Oh, and I did. It was like I had been handed an entirely new drug to revel in as it slowly filled the room, and knowing it now exuded from her was nearly too much to bear—
"Sir Dark Angel? We have finished with her; she is prepared just as our queen requested, for your use," one of the harem girls piped up quaveringly, as if awaiting a slap in the face.
'I'm certain she is,' I groaned internally, 'that sadistic woman wanted to be certain her new gift would not escape without a consummation tonight.'
"Thank you," I answered quietly, still not looking back at where they stood, "you may go."
They thanked me, bestowed one last blessing on Serena despite her lack of comprehension, and shuffled out of my wing.
"Well… that was a peculiar experience," I heard Serena begin with a chuckle as soon as the door had shut behind them, "do you know how tense many months of boat travel can make you? Well, neither did I until they had massaged every nook and cranny of my body to relieve me of it."
I cursed the god who was obviously out to get me—to cast me into hell—squeezing my eyes shut in the crippling effort it took not to whip around to face her. To drink in the sight of that freshly kneaded body, to give the Khanum exactly what she wanted…
"Well, I am relieved you have been pampered a bit after all they put you through to bring you here," I told her, trying to mask the strained hoarseness in my voice but knowing that, with her, I wouldn't be fooling anyone, "I am certain you must be very tired, too, so please feel free to go to bed as soon as you wish to."
"Thank you, Erik; you have been too kind." The relief in her tone was evident. "But… forgive me… I don't know the wing. Could you come closer, show me where I'm going?"
'Show me your bedroom, Erik. Help me… find my way there.' This woman was hell. Her every word was hell, her innocence and naivety towards the implications those words proposed in my twisted mind was hell. And her beauty and overall appeal, most of all, was hell.
I turned around slowly, swallowing and taking a deep breath in of that compulsively intoxicating air. And then, I caught a glimpse of that blistering, magnificent hell… and there was pure fire.
They had dressed her—probably taking advantage of the fact that she would not reject it based off of its look—in what seemed the sheerest possible fabric without being completely transparent. It was two pieces—a lovely, rich, purple garb—with a skirt that stopped just over her ankles and a sleeveless top. The material clung to her, hugging each curve like a loving mother does her child, and as I stood to walk towards her, the movement shifted the air and made the skirt billow… revealing a slit in the side and the briefest of glimpses of her pale, bare legs…
And the closer I got, oh, the more she glowed! If she had been lovely before, she was now absolutely, astonishingly angelic after the remnants of her harsh journey here had been scrubbed away.
She had to be what salvation looked like, in all her natural, youthful, fresh-faced glory… and the sight of her both awed and ruined me. I suddenly knew what Samson must have felt like when he had found out that both his love and his God had betrayed him; I too wanted to bring down a temple with my bare hands, knowing that she was real and she was here and yet she would never be mine.
I reached her then, trying to ignore the boiling beneath my skin as she reached out and took ahold of my upper arm. Her closeness was undoing me; the Khanum's sweet toxin mixed with the way the tiniest of expectant smiles played upon her lips brought a certain, discomfiting tautness to an area of my personage I'd rather not specify.
I led her in silence to my bedroom, verbally explaining how to get there as we went so she may never again be unsure of its whereabouts—or need my assistance in getting there. No sooner had we arrived did I sit her down on the bed and promptly turn to leave again, but I didn't get very far at all before she cried out, "Just one moment!"
The exclamation stopped me in my tracks, though I knew I should be dashing out of there before I did something I would immensely regret. "Yes, my dear?" I answered her evenly, turning my head back only slightly to look at her. How beautiful she looked, the little temptress, sitting on the edge of my bed, wearing clothing so thin… that perfectly blended scent rubbing off from her skin onto the sheets—
'Enough!' The voice of my self-control had escalated to a deafening snarl in my head now; I may have been envying my bed in that moment, but I had not forgotten how beneath her I was. I was a lowly beast living in the most shadowed corner of the earth, and as a result, I could never hope to deserve such a goddess of beauty. The only offering I could ever make her was that of protection and friendship, as she had requested earlier… and even that was an undeserved blessing! For, apart from Nadir, of course, I had never had a true friend. And to have finally found one in a girl so suited to my, well, specific flaws… that was the true gift—and nothing more than that. But though nothing more, it was still the most precious gift I had ever received, and I'd be even more damned than my current state of being if I ever lost it because of a tactless, oafish lapse in behavior.
"You said… you said this was your room?" she questioned, tilting her head to the side slightly in confusion (and probably concern).
"Yes, Serena. But now you may call it yours; I don't use it much as it is. And when I must, now, I will sleep on the chaise or on the floor," I explained so that she might not think I was going to attack her as soon as I had locked the door.
"I will not have that!" she protested abruptly, surprising me into turning fully back around, "Let me sleep on the chaise or on the floor; I will not drive you from your own bed."
I sighed, her generous mindset continuing to amaze me. "Nonsense. You are the lady; I would not dare deny you a bed to sleep in. Besides, as subsequently stated, I do not spend much of my time sleeping," I told her.
She crossed her elegant arms, and I had to look away a moment so her unintentional enticement did not distract me from my argument. "Much of your time. But some of your time, you do. Yes?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Well… yes. I have never needed as much sleep as everyone else does, but I suppose I am still partially human in the sense that I do require some," I rolled my eyes, knowing she could not see my bitterness.
"Well then, I will not reject your insistence. But you must promise me that the few times you do find yourself in need of your bed to sleep in, you will simply push me to one side and do so, alright?" she stated boldly, once again staring at me with such clarity and perception that it made me momentarily forget her blindness.
You poor, stubborn child, Serena… you are playing a very dangerous game with a very disturbed but deft monster for an opponent! How could she dare offer to share the bed with me when she knew very well why she had been brought here in the first place? Was she attempting to test the strength and dependability of my earlier pledge: my trustworthiness? Or was she simply naïve, in her maidenhood, and trying to continue bestowing the kind acceptance she knew I had never before received in order to keep herself alive? Either way, I had to bite my tongue to suppress a groan…
I had to get away from her for a while, to stop inhaling that sweet potion the Khanum had gifted her with… let all thoughts of her seep from my jumbled head…
To let the initial shock of the impact she had made upon me wear off so I could see where I truly stood on her being here… her being my responsibility.
"Alright, Serena," I said after a minute of silent disbelief, "I promise."
"Good. Because I trust you; you have given me no reason to fear you apart from…" she trailed up, a single hand drifting up to her neck and pawing the ugly, purple bruises I had put there. My eyes widened in horror as she winced and returned her hand quickly to her side, then finished, "And I hope I have not given you reason to fear me, in return."
"Do you… do you need some ice, or a wet cloth for that?" I interrogated concernedly, biting my lip as once again, I was condemned by her simplest action.
She blushed, folding her hands in her lap. "Oh no, forgive me. I'm sure it looks worse than it feels, because it truly hardly hurts at all! Is it showing?"
"Yes, I'm afraid so. My deepest apologies… though I know even they can never be enough for such an appalling exploit," I mumbled, looking down at the carpet in agonized shame.
But once again, she was smiling. Was this girl foutu mad? How could she be smiling?! "Please; it is behind us. I know that my arrival was a rather… shocking experience for you. But we have started fresh. Thank you for giving me such a comfortable place to sleep, and for… well, everything."
I knew instantly that this "everything" she referred to could only be my promise to protect her life and virginity. I found I could only reiterate back an unadorned "You're welcome" as guilt pulsed through me from all the thoughts I had entertained this evening which had done just the opposite of that. Then I turned once again towards the exit, but not before she had laid down and whispered a sleepy, "Goodnight, Erik."
"Goodnight, Serena," I replied in a tone nearly inaudible before stepping out of the room. 'And yes, my dear… you have given me plenty of reason to fear you. You frighten me immensely.'
A/N: Hello, my Merry Saturday Lovers of Old French Literature! I hope you're all having a lovely day. :D
Well, here you go… a peek into Erik's mind and his many, many thoughts on his new companion. Love it? Hate it? Love Erik? Hate the Khanum? She only gets worse, let me tell you.
And yes, I am fully aware that "Der Lachende Lied" from Die Flaudermaus did not come out until 1874, while this story takes place around 1856, but for the sake of convenience and an author who didn't want to have to jump through hoops for such a little detail pleaseforgivemylapse!
Otherwise… let me hear your thoughts! You know by now how much I love hearing from you. The question of the week is: How did you come to be introduced to Phantom (any of its adaptations: book, movie, musical…)?
And also, in honor of Erik feeling like Samson, the song of the week is "Samson" by Regina Spektor. Love you all, hope to hear from you soon!
~DonJuana
