Is it...working? I think it is working! I am SO sorry for all of you that could not view the last chapter. That must have been so frustrating. I think posting it close to a holiday was a bad idea on my part and the system was just overwhelmed. I am sure it was frustrating for all of you, but I am so grateful for your patience. I believe that you can now view the last chapter. If not, please comment and let me know!

**Please do not read this chapter unless you have read the last chapter! It may not make as much sense!**

Also- this chapter is quite bloody. If you are squeamish- read with caution. It's about to get gnarly.


Chapter 37: A Dangerous Duel

It took everything she had not to scream.

Her lips sealed together into one thin line, holding in the little contents of her stomach as she stared, for the first time, at the face of her angel. His pale, asperous skin contorted across the right side of his face in such a way that she couldn't fathom how those two halves were a part of the same head. There was a hollow ridge where his nose should have been, giving him a skeleton like complexion. In fact, the only trace of colour in his face came from the exposed, red patch of tissue near his temple. It bared the jarring lines of his cranium that protruded against the little flesh left to cover it. Christine could now clearly see the elastic of his wig and wondered if there was any skin at all on the top of his head. It was a thought that made her sick to her stomach.

His eyes found her immediately, studying her every response. She tried to seem unfazed, but she could already feel her face pale at the sight of him.

His lips, those lips that had caused such a fire inside her, were twisted and enlarged closer to its corner. Yet despite their contortion, she could still see them grimace as their eyes locked together. There was new emotion in his eyes: vulnerability. It shook her to the core to see such a strong, menacing figure crumble so easily. She could see his rib cage shake as he hissed in one, frightened breath and then watched as his body stilled as he held it. Time froze and all she could do was stare. It wasn't until the tears forming in her eyelids swelled and dripped down her face that he finally released his breath. Abruptly, he turned from her. His back hunched over his now drooping head as if it could hide that image that was now burned into her brain. That was not her Erik, not the man she knew. That was something worse.

Was that the face of the monster?

Christine broke herself free from the Shah's grip, collapsing on all fours. The tile below her twisted and faded, her vision momentarily failing her. Never had she seen anything so vile before and her body did not know how to respond. She fought to remain conscious despite the twisted madness that plagued her mind.

Then all of a sudden, it was like a wave hit her. That was why his mother abandoned him, why she hated her own child. His own mother had the exact same disgust in her heart at the sight of that corpse-like face as she did now. Yet his mother never saw the beauty of his precious soul. She never had the chance to hear his music. Christine released a choked cry. Why did such a beautiful gift in this world have to be clouded by something as trivial as complexion? The world had forced him underground, all neglecting to see the beauty underneath.

Her heart ached for him. Her poor Erik. Why was the world so cruel?

Taking in a shuddering breath, Christine imagined his eyes. That was where she saw him, the real him. They reflected the semblance of the man she had danced with only hours ago. The man that held the voice of an angel...

"Erik." She sobbed, watching her tears splatter onto the tile floor below her. Despite all of it, he still choose to remain in the center of the throne room. He could have fled, hidden in the shadows where no one could cry or scream at the sight of him. Instead, he remained, still ready to fight for her dignity. It was unfair!

"Erik, don't do this." Christine cried. She forced herself to look up at him. She would not be like his mother. She would not be like the rest of the world. Her shoulders shuddered at the thought of that monstrosity looking back at her, but she bit down on her conviction. That monstrosity was not his fault and it did not represent who he was as a person. She resolved to look past it.

He turned back to her, his hand quickly coming to block his face. Though she was relieved, she could still see the dark hole of a nose that never grew and the edges of his twisted flesh. It was a small glimpse, but one that she could process at the time. She looked directly into his eyes.

"Erik, run. Don't fight them for me!" His lips parted for a moment, as if he was completely dumbfounded by her request. Did he truly think that she wanted him to battle those men for her sake? The thought of being the source for more pain in his life was unbearable.

Before she could plead any more, a deep, booming laugh echoed around the room. Hakeem leaned his head back, his hands covering his stomach as he laughed. "Are those tears? Tears for a freak? What kind of spell do you have her under, magician?" His mocking tone reached deaf ears. Christine blocked him, the Sultana, everything from her mind. Instead, she focused on those eyes. It blocked out the horridness of his face and let her see him as she knew him.

Look at those eyes. She told herself. Look for the beauty underneath.

The Sultana growled. Her sinister tone assailed Christine's attention and forced her to look in her direction. The Queen glared at Christine, fury blazing in her eyes. She stormed over, her long finger pointed at the startled soprano.

"You didn't scream." She hissed. "You insolent brat! Why didn't you scream?"

"Leave us alone." Christine cried, raising her hand to block her face as the Sultana's hand raised high.

"Mother!" The Shah yelled just before she could bring her palm down to slap Christine. "You have set the rules for the game, it is now time to see it through. Do not lose your temper over something so trivial." Christine glanced back at the Shah, confusion now plaguing her face. Was he...defending her? But the slight sliver of hope fizzled as he smirked in her direction. "If those are her true feelings, then this battle will be her undoing."

"No." Christine whimpered. She turned, ready to leap in front of Erik. She would do little to protect him against those warriors, but at least she could fight at his side. Maybe she could be of some assistance by proving to him that his face did nothing to change how she felt. But the Shah snagged her elbow, pulling her back onto his lap. His arms coiled around her like a snake, covering her mouth and waist. No matter how hard she fought, she could not escape his grip.

"Let the battle begin!" The Shah cheered, a maniacal laugh echoing around them.

"No! Erik! Don't do this!" Christine screamed though her words were muffled by the Shah's palm. She stared into his eyes, silently pleading that he could interpret her panicked noises as a plea to escape this madness. But instead his jaw set and he turned back to the soldiers before him. His hand hesitantly lowered, though Christine saw him angle his face away from her. It didn't stop the room from gasping at the sight again.

As if in sync, the soldiers unsheathed their weapons. The crowd grew silent, many choosing to back away from the tables or lean back into their chairs. Nadir and Darius climbed over the table, swords unsheathed at Erik's side.

"No." Erik stated, glancing over his shoulder. "I do this alone."

"Angel-"

"Alone, Daroga." Erik's fingers curled into a fist at his side. He seemed hesitant about something, though he kept his face angled away from her, Christine knew it was something to do with her.

"Forgive me."

No. Christine trembled as he turned back towards the warriors. All she could hear was the pulsating thump of her heart against her ribcage. It drowned out her cries and the Shah's chilling hushes in her ear. Erik turned back towards Hakeem, a twisted smile forming on his lips.

"I have been waiting for this for a long time."

Hakeem snarled. "As have I. So long, Angel of Death!"

Hakeem leapt forward, his sword plunging toward Erik's stomach. Erik effortlessly side stepped it, dodging his onslaught attacks with a fluid ease. Each attack caused Christine to flinch. The blade missed him by mere inches every time, just enough to seem as though Hakeem would succeed before the last possible minute. Yet, Erik didn't seem rushed in the slightest. Hakeem sported two swords, one in each hand, but even with double the weapons as Erik, he missed every single cut.

Erik's dark chuckle filled the air, the same laugh that rang throughout the Populaire after one of his schemes. "You've gotten sloppy."

"At least I know how to fight!" Hakeem roared, kicking Erik in the chest. Erik slid back, seemingly unfazed by the hit. Hakeem snarled. "Soldiers!"

The other men, noticing their leader's struggle, joined the fight. The first, a tall man with a large broadsword, leapt forward. He swung the blade, keeping Erik a few feet away from him as he leapt from side to side. Another rounded them, throwing small blades towards Erik with such fury that even the Shah ducked behind Christine for a moment.

Christine had to close her eyes. She could not watch him get hurt. The clatter of the blades hitting the tile overcame her. Each one was a mixture of a relief, as it did not hit Erik, and dread, as someone was still throwing blades towards him. Christine whimpered as the men's shouts grew louder, even as some of the spectators began to cheer or awe. A loud scream snapped her eyes open.

She turned back, dreading the worse. She expected to see a pool of blood, some sort of massacre before her. But instead, Erik was off to the side, a sword in his hand. One of the guards was on the floor, rolling as he cried out in pain. His arm was contorted, part of his bone sticking out of his skin.

Christine didn't have time to be sick, though her stomach flipped at the sight. Instead, she was too preoccupied on the two soldiers that battled with her angel. He handled them one at a time, blocking their attacks and pushing them away before twisting just in time to block the other. It was almost dizzying to watch how he expertly parried each onslaught with expertise.

Hakeem roared as he leapt into the fight again. Three on one with nowhere to escape. Erik barely dodged being cornered, boldly dashing towards Hakeem who side stepped out of the way. It created a small opening for Erik to flee out. However, his freedom was short-lived as one guard was able to knock Erik's sword out of his hand before sweeping him to his feet.

Christine cried out. The four remaining soldiers stomped on him, swinging fierce kicks to Erik's ribs and face. With each kick she heard a sickening thud or a loud crack. Furiously, she fought against the Shah. She wanted to be there, to stop them from hurting her angel. Yet the Sha maintained his grip, laughing at her pitiful struggle.

"See, mother? Is this not the pain you wanted to see? Oh little diamond, do not fear. He has taken so much worse than this."

Christine's vision grew blurry from her tears. This was not the worse he had endured? She thought back on the scars on his back, old ones barely hiding behind his new lashings. It tore her apart to think of how long Erik had endured this type of torture.

Through the blur of her own tears, she could just see the silhouette of a man straddle over Erik. His elbows raised high as he threw fist after fist towards Erik's head.

But in a flash, the tides turned. Erik raised his hands up, his forearms taking the blows instead of his face. Before Christine could blink, Erik had somehow rolled them over, breaking free of the man's grip and delivering his own set of punches. Christine held her body tense as one soldier stalked up behind him, his blade raised high.

Before he could thrust down the blade into Erik's back, a small blade sliced through the soldier's leg. The crowd gasped as the soldier collapsed, releasing a horrific cry. Christine looked away, her stomach churning as blood splattered around him. The guard continued to scream as the too familiar clash of blades resumed.

He is okay. Christine told herself, tears streaming down her eyes. It was five to one, and now it is three to one. He can do this. It was all she could do to calm herself. She couldn't sing or escape to the wanderings of her mind. Instead. She had to just reassure herself that he would be okay. Soon, another cry from a soldier assured her that it was in fact, two to one. The crowd grew louder, drowning out the clatter of metal. She heard men cheer and sigh, holler and jeer as the battle ensued. From somewhere in the mad cries of the room, she could hear Nadir yell in Farsi, encouraging and aiding his friend from afar.

The Shah lips brushed against the tender skin of her neck, causing her to flinch. He chuckled. "Are you afraid, little diamond? Have no fear, your angel is a skilled man indeed. Don't you want to watch him claim victory? Or can you not bear to look at him?"

Christine hated the tone in his voice: a haunting, flirtatious growl that caused her skin to goosebump. Hesitantly, she opened up her eyes again. Another soldier was down on the ground, the only indication he was alive was the ragged rise and fall of his chest. Christine swallowed. This left only Hakeem and Erik.

The two of them were in a bitter battle. Both sported cuts along their arms and cheeks, though Erik's was harder to find in the mangle of skin. They both panted, wildly swinging their blades in an exhausted effort to land an attack. Their clothes, stained with blood and torn served as barely any protection against their punches, shoves, and cuts.

Erik collapsed to the floor, having been punched by Hakeem. A small splatter of blood sprayed besides him as he coughed. Hakeem stood above him, panting as he watched Erik slowly pull himself to his knees only. Christine trembled, just like Erik's weakened limbs that struggled to keep himself upright. Hakeem ripped the wig off his head, letting the patch of black slide across the tile.

Erik aged without it. Sporadic white wisps of hair was all that remained against his bare scalp. She could now see more of the hollow engrave around his skull, but her mind was not focused on studying the complexities of his deformity. It was too preoccupied on the menacing grin on Hakeem's face.

"So long...Angel of Death!"

He kicked Erik's stomach, causing him to flip onto his back. Before Erik could recover, the giant man collapsed upon him. His fingers curled around Erik's neck. Erik flailed underneath him, reaching his hands out to try and fight off Hakeem. But after a few seconds of fighting, Christine realized he wasn't going to break free in time.

Christine couldn't take it any longer

With all her might, she bit down hard on the Shah's palm. He yelped in pain, pulling his hand back. It gave her the perfect opportunity. Quickly she bolted from his lap, racing into the battlefield.

"Christine, no!" Nadir yelled. But it was too late. She grabbed a nearby sword, raised it above her head, and brought down the handle as hard as she could on top of Hakeem's head.

He cried out in pain, collapsing at his side. It gave Erik just the opportunity to roll out, sputtering for breath.

The sword shook in her hands, but Christine raised it as best she could. "St-stay away from him."

Hakeem slowly lifted himself to his knees. Blood dribbled down from the side of his head where she had hit him. Christine had never hit anyone before. In fact, she could not remember the last time she did anything so violent. But damn her morality. How could she sit by and let the man she loved die because of her? She lifted up the blade again, doing her best to seem threatening despite her shuddering shoulders.

Hakeem chuckled, a dark, low growl that sent a shiver down her spine. "So the bitch bites? I wonder...little girl...if your eyes will still flare when I break you."

Erik coughed as he slowly climbed onto his feet.

"Don't you fucking touch her."

Hakeem didn't have time to stand. Erik ripped the sword out of her hands, tossing it aside. Christine let out a cry as she fell to the side. But by the time she had regained her composure, Erik had Hakeem pinned on the floor. His bloodied knuckled collided with the guards face, ribs, and face again. Christine tried to stand, but was pulled backwards.

"No! Erik! Stop!"

"Hush, Christine." Nadir cooed, pulling her back towards the table. Christine fought against him. This was not the man Erik wanted to be. She refused-refused- to let him kill Hakeem. None of the other soldiers were dead, just injured or unconscious. With medical attention, they would live to fight another day. Christine knew, that in doing so, Erik was defying the Sultana's orders. Christine glanced towards them. The Shah had now stood, his eyes wide and transfixed on the fight.

"Angel." He muttered, just loud enough to be heard. "I-I command you-"

"Let him die." The Sultana spat, leaping to her feet. She shot a venomous glare towards Christine, who flinched in Nadir's arms.

"He is my personal guard." The Shah growled.

"If you concede, he will make a fool out of you!"

"Silence, mother! We all know the only fool here tonight is you. This turned into a disaster! Angel of Death! Let him go. You have earned your prize."

Erik's fist halted in the air, trembling in place as if it was held back by an unknown force. He wheezed over Hakeem, who now lay still below him.

Christine could barely breath. It was as if time froze. The crowd grew silent, slowly roaring into applause. Christine could feel a gentle hand on her shoulder. Meg approached her, kneeling at her side. She could see her friend's mouth move, but heard nothing but a murmur. Her eyes slowly turned back to Erik. His shirt was torn, revealing just a hint of his scarred back. It slowly expanded and contracted, each breath shaking his entire body. She waited for him to turn back towards her, to show that he had won. Why was it, that she did not feel like this was a victory?

Slowly, Erik's shoulder slumped down. His head loosely swayed as his body collapsed to the side. The last thing he heard was Christine's scream.

Erik POV:

Erik had felt pain before. The crack of the whip against his skin was an all too familiar sensation. Javert was the first to break him with it, whipping him into submission as he begged for forgiveness. His time training in Persia was full of it. If pain could break you, then you could not serve your king. He had lost count of how many times Nadir had carried him back to his family's home. Rookheeya would pray over him in the night, praying that he would never have to endure it again. Did she know that her prayers fell on deaf ears?

Erik! Erik, wake up!

He recognized that voice. In his mind, he was gazing through the mirror. A young girl with long brown curls danced before him. She giggled and sang and he could only watch her with awe. His friend- the only light he had seen that didn't blind him. Before his eyes, she grew. Soon she was a teenager, laughing at his ill jokes. She told him her darkest secrets, and listened to his ideas about the Populaire. He felt like a young man again, thinking about what he could do to make her smile like that just a little longer. Her voice, one that matured so beautifully it must have belong to an angel, rang in his ears. Yes, this is what heaven must have been.

Don't fight me, you fool! Just hang on. We are almost there.

His angel was now a woman, one with eyes like the ocean. She stood before him, a small smile on her lips again. He could only watch her, his heart burning with something new. Was it love? Was it desire? He couldn't differentiate the two, but felt the undying need to just be consumed by her; like a match to gasoline. She sauntered over towards him, her arms outstretched.

"Stay with me." She hummed.

Erik sighed. All the burning doubts that she would choose that fop escaped him. Of course, he would stay with her. Wherever it lead them, whatever she did, he just wanted to go too.

Erik, drink this, stay with me.

"Say you'll share with me, one love, one lifetime. Lead me, save me from my solitude."

There was something wrong with his voice, like it had been dragged through a bed of nails. Yet her arms were around him now, her smile beaming before him.

"Say you want me with you here, besides you. Anywhere you go let me go to."

Erik. I am here. Please, oh please, wake up.

For just a moment, he forced his eyes open. He was surrounded in near darkness, save for a candlelight at his side. His body felt simultaneously heavy and weightless. An aching pulse radiated through his body, but he was too exhausted to understand it.

There was his angel again. Her eyes were nearly as rosy as her lips, tears streaming down her cheeks. Why did his angel cry?

"Christine...that's all I ask of..."

Then everything went black.


I know, not a fair ending. I'm the worst, I will admit it. See you guys on Sunday!

Badpixie06:Thank you! It was unexpected, as is anything that madwoman does haha. But now Christine knows almost everything about him. Good guess, but everyone's favourite fop did not come to the rescue just yet. Although, his appearance is coming very very soon. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thank you for suggesting the app (I had no idea there was one haha).

Phantomgirl24: I am so sorry that you couldn't view the chapter! I tried to reload it a hundred times but there was an error with the site. I hope you can see it now. I am glad to hear that you like this story :) If it doesn't work again, feel free to PM me and I can see if I can message you the chapter?