A/N hello! this is just some tooth-rotting somewhat-boring fluff with Nadir and the wedding. one more chapter left and then this is done and dusted! let me know if you want to see any particular sort of E/C in the future as that is what i'll be writing after this fic.

thanks for reading! :)

A checker slid in a parallel dance to another. A girl with dark chocolate curls, though she had become a woman in every sense of the word, was flitting her fingers over the board, contemplating her next play. The man seated across from her had a sharp, tawny face, and deep-set eyes as lively as a bird's. The girl wore pale silken gown, its veil haphazardly thrown to the side of the oak table. Years, empires and ages stood between the two, and yet…

...

"I did not know where you had ended up. Why did you never tell me?"

Nadir was polishing the rim of a champagne glass, not even looking up at the slender, elegant figure half-shadowed in the dim of the hotel bar. He was sliding his long fingers over the gold trim of the counter absently, flicking his amber gaze to the heiresses and dukes laughing airily around polished tables. Nadir frowned at the silence, sensing the weight of the coming answer.

"I ruined your life once, Nadir. I did not think it kind to ruin it again." Erik's tone was quiet, just as he remembered it. Only once or twice had he heard the bone-chilling roar that voice could swell to be, but no, this dulcet softness, this considered reservation was the real Erik. The last time he had heard that voice had been when it was spluttering through blood, and he had to look away again.

"I thought you were dead." He stated with frigidity, trying to blink away the sight of Erik's mangled body, his half-vacant eyes. He remembered his hands shaking when he had roughly stitched the wound in Erik's stomach, fear in his limbs as he watched the horse carry a limp body into the darkness towards Constantinople.

"I would have been, if it wasn't for you."

A hush fell that was hard to break. Nadir stared openly at the half-concealed face, at the faded porcelain which covered it. In the court in Persia, he had always masked his entire face with red silks, the crimson masked murderer for the Shah. There seemed to be something less…otherworldly about him now. Something less bloodthirsty.

"You have changed." He noted, though it held no emotion. Erik's eyes burned.

"As have you. True royalty serving imitations of royalty." Erik shifted the faintest of nods over to the gossiping rich. Nadir smiled in a sad sort of humour.

"That feels like a lifetime ago now."

Erik hummed in agreement, and it was if they were both caught in the same daydream of memory. The conversations they had around the palace, the debates on politics, on music and art. The rare ring of laughter. All with a red mask, all with only knowing his amber eyes. Years and years, only knowing that voice and amber eyes. Until they fled. Until Erik was passing into death, when he saw the truth behind the mask. In a daze, Erik had snarled, writhed away, the ugly deformity piercing a strange silhouette in the darkness. Nadir had said nothing but a trembling prayer before Erik passed out of consciousness.

"Why now?" Nadir could not help but ask, feeling the sting of betrayal in his tone. So many years, so many years not knowing. And now…

"I have one last favour to ask, if you'll allow it." Erik was avoiding his stare again, tracing the bar nonchalantly.

Nadir's eyes narrowed with an incredulous curiosity.

….

Many hours later, with a bottle of sour spirits, holed up in a quiet backroom, Nadir felt his head spinning.

Marriage, marriage, marriage…

"Who is this girl? How in the world did you meet?" He was pouring another drink into Erik's glass, sloshing over the spindly hand. Erik, as per usual, looked slightly bemused.

"She is a leading soprano at the Opera Populaire." He answered somewhat trimly, haughtily, as if slightly annoyed at the continuous questions flooding at him. Nadir knew Erik was only tolerating it due to a grim sense of indebtedness, but being fantastically drunk, he was too astoundingly shocked to care.

"A singer! Vây, khodâye man!" Another thought drifted suddenly into Nadir's head.

Has she seen…does she know?

Erik seemed to sense the unspoken confusion, setting his glass down with a thoughtful, resigned look on his half-face.

"I do not pretend to know how she can look upon me, or why this is what she has chosen…" Erik's eyes suddenly turned hard and fierce, striking through Nadir's stupor, "…but I would beat death for her. If I had the Shah's neck in my noose, and she asked me to spare his life, I would cut the rope."

Silence slipped between them again. After a while, Erik recited the time and place once more as he stood, smoothing down his coat.

"Thank you for the drink." He murmured politely, and then, with just a flickering side-glance, he left.

….

Nadir made his way into a simple church on the edge of the city one warm summer afternoon. He intended to slip into the congregation unnoticed, but this was soon found to be impossible when he realised there was only two guests, seated in the front pew. On the left, a rather severe looking woman with neat black hair. On the right, a grinning girl with golden locks, holding a basket of rose petals in earnest. He decided to sit towards the back.

The priest seemed apathetic and old, squinting up at the tall, commanding frame of Erik. He was half-masked, a red flower in his lapel. In a way that only Nadir knew, Erik was nervous. Golden eyes remained fixated on the point in front of him, the heel of his foot tapping ever so slightly, hovering in its tremors just above the stone floor.

The girl entered in white, veiled and delicate in form. She must have been young, Nadir rationalised gravely, with sweeping chocolate curls pinned carefully, with the pink on her cheeks even noticeable through the fine lace.

It seemed a quiet affair. Vows were exchanged, though soft in tone, and from the way they were speaking, as if in a hushed whisper, it did seem as if it was for only the couple's ears. The priest swore them into the sanctity of marriage before a spiteful God. The veil lifted, and Nadir realised the girl was beautiful, with sapphire eyes and a bright, lovely face. She was bursting with happiness.

…..

Nadir did not meet the bride until later into the evening. He did not really know why he thought it best, but some part of him was aware that it was best to confer with no other people present. Besides, he did not know how much the two other guests knew.

Lights were dancing dimly in the fading sunlight from inside the little townhouse as he wondered up to the front door, checking the number again before knocking. A few seconds past before the door was flung open, revealing the girl. She was smiling radiantly, curls loose and still in her dress of white lace, azure eyes flashing. The smile fell as she took in the stranger.

"Who is it, my dear?" The honeyed call of Erik rang out the open door.

"I…I don't know." She called back, her eyes not leaving Nadir's. In less than a heartbeat, Erik was at the door, instinctively pulling the girl behind him. The tension in his body released immediately when he realised it was Nadir.

The faintest glimmer of a smile. "I saw you at the wedding. I thought you wouldn't come."

Nadir mirrored his smile. "We are ones that make good on our promises, are we not?"

"That is rather idealistic of you."

"This is true, but I am not the one married, my friend."

The girl seemed to watch on in confusion as Erik stepped aside to allow him in. Brows furrowed, she stuck out her hand to him.

"Hello sir, I do not believe we have met, and as it seems my husband is incapable of introducing me, I suppose I shall take matters into my own hands."

In a shocked moment, Nadir choked on his own dumbfounded laughter. Erik rolled his eyes dramatically as he stalked back through the corridor, flitting a hand over his shoulder in addressment.

"Nadir Khan, this is my Christine. Christine Daae. My dear, this is Nadir Khan, a friend from Persia."

The girl called Christine's eyes widened in sparkling curiosity and some sort of recognition, a grin across her pink lips.

"A friend? Nadir, from Persia? Oh, Mr Khan, please excuse me, come in, come in."

The dining room was scattered with used plates and the fragments of a frosted cake, all of which Christine was now scurrying to in order to clear Nadir a space, chirping excitedly all the while.

"Oh, it is really such a shame you missed the celebrations, Mr Khan, please do pardon the mess…"

"Really, do not worry…"

It was a funny vision, he had to admit, watching the fairy-like girl in a fairy-like dress pass stacks of plates into the hands of an indifferent Erik. Erik, who was muttering not to make a fuss in his surreal voice, in complete domesticity. Nadir's head spun.

"There is still cake if he wants it." Amber eyes flicked to Nadir, filled with a ripple of humour.

Was the masked murderer of the Shah truly…joking with him? Nadir couldn't help the belly laugh that uproariously followed. Christine blinked for a moment, giggling in uncertainty. Nadir touched her elbow in reassurance.

"Apologies, lovely Christine. I have just never seen my friend in this way."

Her sapphire eyes brightened in both interest and joy at the statement, though she hid the glint as she folded down the silk of her dress.

"Would you care for some tea, then? I am afraid we only have black…" She gnawed on her bottom lip. Nadir only smiled, taking the seat at the oak table.

"That sounds perfect." He crooned, sincerely, taking her palm in his and peering up at her. Christine smiled, a hint of a blush blooming on her cheeks before she dashed to the kitchen. Erik was unsmiling through his mask as he eased into the chair beside Nadir.

"She is simply divine." Nadir sung as he watched her curls disappear around the doorway. Erik hummed lowly.

"I know that look." He warned, though with mirth in his eyes. Nadir waved his hand in dismissal.

"Oh, please. I know better than to pursue any wife of yours." He turned to Erik properly then. "So, tell me what you told your guests. How much do they know?"

Erik smirked, though in sad irony. "They believe I'm war-wounded."

Nadir seemed to weigh up the answer and shrugged. "That's not entirely untrue." He flashed a glance to Erik's stomach. Erik's tweaked lips suddenly held an ounce of amusement.

"I wouldn't use so noble of a term."

Christine appeared with a silver tray of teacups and a teapot, setting it all out in front of them. Nadir watched her pour the tea with an air of performance, as if relishing the role of being the lady of her own house. After he wrapped his fingers around the porcelain, the question slipped.

"How did you meet?"

A silence filled the room for a half-moment. Christine shared in a secret smile and then shook her curls nonchalantly.

"It's a frightfully dull story. Now, Mr Khan, may I be so bold as to challenge you to a game of nard?"

Nadir's eyebrows shot up even as he heard Erik's breathy laugh.

…..

The girl slid the checker again, and then again. A man with a masked face was in a chair across the room, reading, although he was watching, always watching. The man with the sharp face let out a curse in an ancient language that grew in volume as the girl's victory was completed.

"My God, you are ruthlessly trained! I expect nothing less from your tutorage monsieur, but truly…"

Christine was beaming, proud and exuberant and trying to contain every fibre to stay put even as they wanted to jump up and yell. "I have never won before."

Nadir scoffed, nodding his head towards Erik. "That is because you have only played against him. I knew people who lost whole estates on games with that one."

"Estates which were not worth the paper of their title deeds." Quipped Erik nonchalantly as he leafed through his book, and then, flicking a proud half-smirk to Christine. "I did say you were improving, my dear."

Some time later, when the moon was high in the sky, Nadir left the small townhouse with spoken promises and a whole bottle of sweet wine Christine had pressed earnestly into his arms. Even in the darkness he could see the odd couple in the doorway. A waving, laughing girl with the sky in her eyes and the half-smiling man with quiet joy in his. He paused for a moment, turning back and waving, shouting in his bold voice.

"Be omide didâr! Goodnight, and good luck my friends!"

Blessings were needed, Nadir thought as he wandered down the street. It was their wedding night, after all.