Author's Note: So I lied :)
Erik knocked on the Daroga's door, half hoping Sara would open it and half praying she wouldn't.
Reza was the one to answer. The sight of the boy startled Erik; he was thinner than the last time Erik had seen him, and he had not been a large boy even then. Little Reza's face was gaunt and his skin pale, but his spirits were high."Erik! Father is expecting you. Can you stay after? I've been working on a magic trick I want to show you," the boy boasted, and Erik kneeled down to clasp the boy's shoulder on his level.
"I would love to see it," Erik promised, rising again when the Daroga entered the room to shake the man's hand. "Nadir."
"Erik. Reza, go back to your room and allow Erik and I to speak in private please," Nadir instructed.
"But –"
Erik interrupted. "We're going to be very dull, Reza. Why don't you practice the trick you're going to show me in the mean time?"
The boy resigned, skulking off to his room while the Daroga frowned after him. "That boy is more obedient of you and Sara than he ever is of me."
"It's natural for a boy to push against his father. He does admire you; he told me once he wants to be Daroga one day himself," Erik explained.
"Did you struggle with your father?" Nadir asked, honestly curious as he gestured to the dining room where several large sheets of thin parchment were strewn.
"I never knew my father," Erik admitted. "But I watch people, and I've seen this before. He isn't looking well though, Daroga. Is he eating?"
Nadir shook his head and stood behind the table, leaning into it. "No, hardly a bite. Sara's been making his favorite meals and he only eats a bite or two before insisting he's full or becoming ill. It's terrible; he doesn't eat because he doesn't feel well, but he doesn't feel well because he won't eat. I don't know what to do."
"I'll take a look at him tonight and see if it's something physical. If not, try talking him into eating something with a lot of fat or sugar. It will help him keep on weight."
"Thank you, Erik. Now explain to me how I'm supposed to read any of these pages, they all look like nonsense," Nadir asked, gesturing to the pages.
"Did you receive the one I sent last night?" Erik asked, and Nadir browsed over the pages on the table before pulling one out and passing it toward Erik. The Magician took it, and placed it atop of the other pages.
"These are all parts of traces of the original blueprints of the main floor of the palace," Erik began, adjusting the angle of the pages just so. "This top page is the key, line up the symbols on the pages below with this top one and it will show properly."
"And these lines going into the palace from outside, these are passages?"
"Some of them, and they are not set in stone," Erik warned. "Once the foundation is set and I get onto the sight, I am the only person responsible for the construction of the passages into and out of the building, and I have several in mind I did not tell the Sultan about namely here and here."
As he spoke, Erik gestured to in turn to two locations – one near the main throne room and the other near the Sultana's chambers adjacent to the harem. "I thought it was time the spies are spied on. There will also be passages within the palace between floors; I'll have to find a way to denote those once they're built. I'm rather enjoying the process of creating them, truth be told. It's like inventing a puzzle."
Nadir chuckled and nodded. "This is a great start, Erik. Thank you for this, and for your discretion. Can I ask… what made you decide to help me in this?"
"The Sultana forced me to take sides in this the minute she had the idea to give me a bride she knew would die. She even picked what side I would take when she intended that bride to be Sara."
Erik hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Is she here?"
"No, but she's due home soon. They buried Hestia today," Nadir explained, and Erik nodded absently. "She didn't tell me what happened, if that is what you're wondering," the Daroga added.
"How would you know to say that if she didn't tell you anything?" Erik countered.
The Daroga smiled sadly. "She shouted at me for ten minutes about not trusting her, thinking she was selfish enough to want to die rather than be married. I can only assume you talked to her. She went right to bed after her fit and hasn't mentioned it since."
Erik hummed and sat in one of the chairs. "…She said she loved me, Daroga. I told Sara I chose Hestia to protect her, and she went on a tirade about what choosing Hestia had put her through. She said she would have wanted me to choose her, except that she didn't know if she could be married to someone she loved who didn't love her," Erik explained, beginning to ramble himself.
"She doesn't know your history. She doesn't know you've stolen and killed, that you're responsible for the death of hundreds if not thousands –" Nadir reasoned, but was interrupted.
"That number is grossly over exaggerated."
"But the gypsy troupe –"
"I did not kill them," Erik promised. "I take credit for it when it benefits me to do so, but they died of typhus after I left. But you're right. She doesn't know those things."
"How can she possibly love you if she doesn't know you?"
Falling quiet, Erik thought for a long moment before speaking again. "May I ask you a question and expect an honest answer?"
"Yes, of course."
"Do you believe the past defines who we are?"
The Daroga took a long minute to consider this before giving his full and honest answer. "In some ways yes, in others no. We are nothing without our histories. The things that happen to us, the things we see and do that shape our decisions also shape who we are. But I also believe people grow and change with their experiences. I know I am not the same man I was before my wife died. I am also not the same man I was only a year ago."
"Does it follow then that because I have stolen I am a thief? Or that because I have killed I am a killer?" Erik asked, genuinely curious and somber.
"I think it made you those things while you were doing them, but what you are now is based on your actions now. I do think they changed you and made you into the man you are today, for better or worse," Nadir said.
Erik listened and looked thoughtful while Nadir spoke before nodding. "So it is possible for Sara to know me without having known the things I have done," Erik reasoned.
Nadir laced his fingers and glanced down at the table. "Honestly… maybe. But being her brother it is something I would prefer for her to know. I think she should know what it is you're capable of before deciding something as life-changing as love."
"Do you think she loves me, Daroga?"
"I think only she knows the answer to that question. But I will tell you this – whether she loves your or not, whether you have intentions with her or not - I don't care if you are aiding us in rebellion, or if you cure my son, or if you're the Sutlana's pet, I will kill you if you hurt my sister."
Much to the Daroga's surprise, Erik chuckled. "You would try, Daroga. You would try."
"He would try what?" Came the voice of Sara from behind Erik, and the Magician turned in his chair.
"Nothing," Nadir promised, rising to walk around the table and greet his sister. She was dressed in black with a mourner's veil draped over her face. "Erik has come to explain his blueprints to me, should we invite him to stay for supper?"
Sara knew her brother was lying, but allowed him to dodge the question. "Yes, yes of course. Stay for supper, won't you Erik? It's the least we could do before sending you home on the day of your bride's funeral."
"I'm a widower, not a cripple," Erik defended, standing from his chair. "I'll take a look at Reza before I go, but I'll find my own supper."
"Please Erik, I insist. You have better odds than I do of talking my son into eating," Nadir reasoned, and Erik pursed his lips before glancing in the direction of Reza's room.
"Alright. I'd best let him show me the magic trick he's been practicing."
Reza was well and truly ill. His belly was tender to the touch, and more than two or three bites of the rich meal Sara had prepared caused the boy to vomit. Sara tended to the ill boy while a distraught Nadir cleared the table, his appetite lost at the thought of his ill son.
"He's dying, isn't he?"
Erik glanced down at the floor. "Yes, he is. He'll get sicker more quickly now that he's not eating, and will become far more fragile. I don't know what to do to slow it, let alone stop it."
Sara joined them once Reza was put to bed, tears in her eyes as she picked up a plate without a word. The masked man was filled with the desire to comfort her but had no words to say. Suddenly the plate in Sara's hands slipped from her grip, shattering on the floor an eliciting an uncharacteristic curse from the young woman. She knelt to pick up the broken porcelain wiping at her eyes with the back of her hands. When Nadir touched her shoulder gently, Sara sobbed aloud and sat in place.
"He asked me if he was dying, Nadir. He knows," she cried, and Nadir knelt beside her to resume cleaning the broken plate.
"Erik, could you please put Sara to bed? I'll clean up here."
Carefully Erik reached down to help Sara to her feet, allowing her to lean on him while she sobbed uncontrollably. Glancing over his shoulder back at the Daroga, he saw the man kneeling on the floor, hands buried in his face and shoulders heaving.
He turned his attention back on Sara, helping her to her bedroom and drawing the sheets. She was still fully dressed, but crawled into bed regardless and remained clinging onto Erik's sleeve.
Singing quietly, Erik kneeled by the bed and stroked the woman's hair to soothe her. With time, her crying slowed to small, infrequent hiccups and sniffles. Sara's grip moved from Erik's sleeve to his hand, desperate to feel its warmth. "I'm a mess, Erik. I can't remember feeling this terrible even after Sanas died. Why are these terrible things happening at once?"
"The gypsies believe bad things happen in threes," Erik explained. "I've become inclined to believe it."
Sara considered this through while she tried to force her breathing to return to normal. "Hestia refused you and died for it. Reza is dying. What else?"
"In meaning to protect you, I hurt you. I would say that counts, based on your charges against me yesterday," Erik offered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she hummed her quiet agreement. Again Erik began to sing a quiet lullaby, and Sara pulled his hand up to her face to feel its warmth against her cheek. His palms were rough, a working man's hands. Although she knew he was an architect, his long and delicate fingers were more suited to the idea of Erik as a musician and magician than a man of stone and wood. They were comforting and strong, with his thumb careful to keep tears off the cheek it protected.
"Would you stay until I fall asleep?" She asked, and Erik nodded his silent agreement. Her hiccups slowing with the continuation of Erik's lullaby, Sara's eyes began to close and before long she had fallen into a light and restless sleep. Not long after Sara's eyes closed, Erik's eyelids felt heavy. He found himself resting his head on his arm, never removing his hand from Sara's cheek.
At three in the morning, Sara woke from a fitful sleep to find Erik had pulled up a chair near her bedside and fallen asleep with his head at the edge of her bed. Still half asleep herself, the young woman crawled from bed and undressed from her mourning clothes, changing into a more comfortable sleeping gown before abandoning the bed in favor of Erik's lap. She curled her legs into her chest, leaning into Erik's chest and closing her eyes to attempt to sleep again.
She did not notice that Erik had waken, and was asleep by the time he wrapped his arms around Sara and rested his masked cheek upon the top of her head.