Just to clarify, Erik is dreaming in the beginning of the chapter. However, his dreams are flashbacks, therefore accurate. Just a heads up :)
Chapter 39: A Feverish Flashback
Erik POV:
It took Erik many hours to finally succumb to sleep, though for once he resisted it entirely. Heaven had always been a far reaching concept; a reality he knew he would never achieve because of the sins of his past. However, what he felt now, must have been as close to heaven as he ever would be.
An angel laid in his sinful arms. He had always imagined what she would feel like. Would she be soft? Would she be warm like the sun or cold like his own hands? Yet nothing he could imagine would have been able to describe the pure pleasure he felt when he touched her. She was warm- undeniably warm. Her back heated his entire chest and all the cold organs within, his black heart and hollow lungs, which erupted into life at the feel of her lovely heat. He melted into her, ensuring every part of him that could touch her did. His knees rested behind hers, angled perfectly to fit. His hips arched deliciously forward against her backside, which drove him into a mad frenzy. He tried to distract his throbbing desire to rock himself against her by taking in the sweet scent of her hair. With his face exposed and her hair so close, it was easy to lose himself in the smell of soap and flowers.
It was heaven. Pure, unblemished, heaven. Despite the sharp ache in his ribs and the acceleration of his heart, he felt entirely at peace. His arm draped over her hip, though he dared not loosen his grip on the sheets. If that hand was free to touch her...
Erik forced himself to shut his eyes. He would be every bit the gentleman even if it killed him. Having this moment with her alone was a blessing, lest he ruin it with his disgusting hands.
He couldn't even remember the last time anyone had been so close to him. His mother never hugged him, despite his pleas as a child. Rookheeya had been the first woman to voluntarily embrace him, which took him many days to recover from. Every nerve in his body was electrified by the unusual feeling of human connection. To touch her soft skin with his own was something he had yearned for years.
Of course, there was also Lucianna.
Erik's mind slowly drifted as he thought about her. Yes, Luciana had held his hand before. She often touched his shoulder or bumped him teasingly. Each one had nearly given him a heart attack, but he forced himself to remain poised in front of his master and his daughter despite his urge to scream.
He had studied under Giovanni with great interest and success. It was the first time he had the opportunity to become a part of the real world. No more lurking in the shadows, now it was time to become a man. But of course, his face, his monstrous face destroyed the little taste of a normal life he so nearly possessed. All was well with the Italian architect. He had learned a great many things, not just about design but also life itself. It was perplexing, terrifying, yet alluring at the same time. There were days he had to lock his door and force himself to stay instead of running back to the familiar atmosphere of the opera house. But he knew that if he wanted to escape the darkness that consumed him, he had to dwell in the light.
The return of his daughter, Lucianna, changed many things. She was a beautiful, young woman who seemed infatuated with him. Erik could not understand it, but welcomed the gentle warmth of her hand in his. He couldn't wrap his head around her. She sought him out when she was free to do as she pleased. Him, the Devil's child. The more time he spent with her, the stronger a strange feeling in his stomach grew, especially when he caught her looking at him. It wasn't like the usual fear he felt when others stared. It confused him.
But her arrival inevitably crushed his naïve sense of security. She had lured him to the roof. He had seen Christine talk on the roof of the Populaire with her friends beforehand, so he thought it was just natural for young women to want to speak up there privately.
Yet, despite how she made him feel, he knew this woman was not like his Christine. His Christine smiled so brightly, not like the coy grin that often formed on Lucianna's lips. Though he couldn't deny the strange emotions in his stomach when Luciana glanced in his direction, he knew that it was nothing compared to the total bliss of hearing his angel's voice. Yet when she wandered onto that roof, beckoning him to follow, he obliged out of curiosity.
She stood on the rail, her arms out wide as she gracefully walked across the bricks that lined the edge of the flat roof. He stood and watched her, listening to her ramblings about her time away in boarding school, a topic he was genuinely interested in. He had no idea what going to school was like, though he was certain he would have enjoyed learning so many subjects. Yet when she turned around, she paused.
"Why do you wear a mask?"
His heart had dropped. It was the question he hated the most. It was easy to explode, use rage as a shield from the most vulnerable truth of himself. Yet, Giovanni had encouraged him to focus on his internal struggles to better himself. A good architect was only as good as his own, personal foundation. Erik had rolled his eyes at the man's poetic wisdom, but there was some truth to his words. If he wanted to be a great architect, he would have to learn to work with others.
If he had to work with others, they would ask about his mask.
Erik bit back his pride as he recited the practiced response that Giovanni had taught him. "I have bad scars on my face from when I was a child. I like to keep them covered to protect them from infection. It isn't something I like to talk about."
Lucianna studied him. Erik hated the feeling of others eyes on him like this. He stood with his head down and clenched hands in his pockets. He wanted to flee, maybe even scream. However, he knew that it wouldn't fix anything. He had to learn to trust others, didn't he? That was what Madame Giry had said was important in friendship. How could he be a good friend to Christine if he was so angry all of the time?
"Have you ever shown them to anyone?"
Erik growled. Why was she still talking about it? He recited the response, so shouldn't she have moved on? "No." He grumbled.
She stepped down off the ridge, smiling as she stood in front of him. Erik had to look away. He wasn't used to being smiled at.
"Do you trust me, Erik?"
His eyes snapped up to meet hers. She was so close now, every nerve in his body on fire from her presence. Should he run? Should he stay? He didn't know what to do.
Do you trust me, Erik? Her voice rang in his head. The truth was, he didn't. He didn't trust anyone. But he wanted to. He wanted to be a good man, which he was told meant he had to trust others.
Despite the alarms blaring in his mind, he nodded.
She smiled, leaning in so her lips were near his ear. "Trust me." She whispered.
Erik's eyes fluttered shut. Whatever this emotion was, he wanted it. He wanted more. It was a burning flame that consumed him. Yes, he could trust her. She was his friend, wasn't she? She had been kind to him, like Christine had. Christine was his friend, so wouldn't that make her a friend as well?
He didn't even realize what she had done until the gentle breeze brushed against his exposed cheek.
His eyes shot open just as she released a blood curdling scream. Those once bewitching eyes were now wide, filled with horror at the sight before her. Her olive skin had grown pale like a corpse. Her hand hovered over her mouth, the other dropping his mask onto the roof.
Everything else happened too quickly, but in his dreams it slowed to an excruciating speed. Her skirts fluttered about her as she stumbled backwards. Her knees instantly buckled as the back of her legs collided with the rail. In his dreams, he could see every detail of her gentle hands as she desperately reached out for something to latch onto. He could see every twisted emotion in her face as she realized she was falling.
"LUCIANA!" He had screamed. His body leapt forward to catch her, to stop her from falling over the side of the roof. His long, spindly finger just barely grasped the fabric of her sleeves. But before he could react, the gentle fabric tore. It was the loudest noise he had ever heard. He could only watch as her flailing body fell from the three story building and splattered against the brick pathways below.
He had no idea how long he stared at her mangled corpse. The fabric in his shaking hand grew heavy and he let it go as he stumbled back, collapsing onto the roof.
He couldn't breathe. He couldn't stand or move.
You monster! You killed her!
She saw your cursed face and it dragged her to hell.
You worthless scum, you devil's child!
Murderer! Murderer! Murderer!
Erik screamed. He grabbed the mask and covered his hideous form. He ran down the steps and out the opposite door from where he heard Giovanni's agonizing cries. He ran out of the city, out of the country, and promised himself he would never trust anyone again.
His dreams changed, like the rippling effect when you throw a stone into a still pond. Long gone was the rooftop in Italy. He was now back in the opera house, looking down from the rafters. His eyes immediately found her brown curls, tightly pulled back into a bun.
Erik sighed with relief. He had returned to the Opera Populaire after Luciana's death, having nowhere else to go. It was only for a short while, just to gather some supplies before leaving to Persia. What was once his sanctuary was now a bitter collection of memories. His childhood here seemed so distant, that even the place he had called home was strangely peculiar. Instead of feeling joy at returning to his old home, he was consumed by his failure to become a normal man. He didn't deserve the happiness he had found here.
Now he watched her, his angel from afar. Would she accept him as he was? Or would she too scream like Luciana? A lot happened in the past year and a half. He was a different man now. Did that mean his Christine was different too?
"Is that her? Your friend?"
Erik rolled his eyes. He already regretted letting the daroga follow him. After leaving Giovanni, he had an unfortunate incident with a group of mercenaries. Nadir Khan, a detective from Persia, was also investigating them at the time. Unwantedly, they formed a small team to overtake the mercenaries. Nadir was impressed by Erik's skill and healed him of his wounds.
"Do you have a place to go?" Nadir had asked once Erik was well enough to travel.
Erik shrugged. "I've never had a place to go. I'll just go wherever I can lurk in the shadows."
Nadir scoffed. "Well. I understand that Persia is a distant land to you Europeans, but I can promise you that in my home, you will not have to lurk in the shadows."
Erik furrowed his brow. "I barely know you. Why would I trust you?"
"You just said you didn't trust anyone, didn't you? So what would knowing me for years do to change that. Now come. Rookheeya will not be pleased if I am gone for any longer. Let's go to Paris and settle our affairs then travel east."
Erik merely nodded at the older man. Yes, that was his Christine. Yet he was perplexed by her appearance. She was wearing a leotard and tights, draped in a shimmering tutu. She had clearly grown since he last saw her, her feminine features barely showing through the skin tight outfit. But why was she a ballerina?
Erik had left the Daroga, getting closer to his angel. "Chrriiiistiiine."
His angel's eyes widened. She lifted her head slowly. "Angel of music…"
Erik hissed a sharp intake of breath. Her voice was like a shot of heroin to an addict. It was a feeling so blissful that he had to fight to remain in control. "My angel of music..."
His angel moved towards him, smiling so brightly. It was nothing like that Luciana's mischievous grin. It was pure and true and everything he wanted.
"Christine..."
"Christine!"
Raoul de Chagny. The son of the new patron of the opera and a Christine's childhood friend. Erik had never known how to share, especially his only friend, but he had done his best to refrain himself for her sake. But now, as he watched those blonde locks approach her, he wished he had gotten rid of the brat many years ago.
Erik's gut twisted as she smiles at him. He tries to listen in on their conversation, refraining himself from jumping to any conclusions. They were just friends but he was her angel. His fragile soul clung desperately onto the one spark of light in his life. His Christine would always be his.
Yet when that boy pressed his lips against hers, the rage that consumed him was near unstoppable. A part of him waited for her to push him away and cry for his aid. He wanted to leap off these rafters and pummel that fop into the ground. But she merely stood, dumbstruck. It was her blush and giggle that sent him over the edge.
That boy would die. That boy would die. That boy will die!
"What are you doing?"
It was Madame Giry. She was not far in front of him. He couldn't remember if he replied, instead choosing to walk past her like she wasn't even there.
"Phantom. Please, they are children. Please, what are you doing?! Where are you going?!" Her voice grew more frantic, but weaker the more his anger built. He completely lost control of himself.
Blackness, muffled voices, flashes of the opera house. It was as if he had passed out, but his body still continued to move. He didn't remember where he was going, or what his plan was. He just remembered the fires of madness burning at his soul.
"Erik! Erik stop!"
Was that Nadir? He seemed to regain consciousness again and saw Madame Giry on the floor, her hand covering her pink cheek. Her eyes were wide. Had he hit her?
Suddenly he was thrown against the back wall. That pesky Persian stood in front of him, pinning him back by his lapels.
"Erik! What is going on?"
"He is going to kill them!" Madame Giry cried. "Daroga, he is going to kill them!"
Everything went black again. All Erik could imagine was that boy, kissing his angel. He would take away the only friend that he ever had. All the joy he had ever felt would be robbed by some pretty faced fop who only lusted for his angel. He couldn't let that happen.
All the while, Luciana's screaming rang through his mind.
His dream sent him into a swamp of darkness. Luciana's screams, Christine's blush as that fop assaulted her. It was just too much for him to bear. Until finally, there was a light. The chandelier. It was right above the front row, where that pest would be sitting. What a terrible accident it would be if it was to drop down on top of him.
"Erik! Stop!"
Was he running now? Where was he going? Time blurred until he was staring down at the opera house, above the hundreds of spectators below. The dome shape of the Populaire allowed him to see every balcony and seat. From here, he could even see the back of those detestable golden locks. He walked along a thin passageway along the inner circumference of the dome. There were three main hooks that held up the Chandelier. He unclipped the knife that was attached to his calf and raced forward.
If the chandelier fell, it would fall near the front of the stage, just close enough that it would definitely crush Raoul and only hit the very front of the stage. He grinned as he cut the first rope. The chandelier shook, but it did not falter. No one seemed to notice, being too enraptured by the performance.
Anger fueled his every action. It moved his legs toward the next target. It omitted all logical sense form his mind until he was a hungry animal hunting his prey. He turned to walk to the other end of the dome and free the others when he saw Nadir. His shirt was askew, sprinkled with specs of blood from his now swollen nose. The look in his eyes was a mixture of fear and determination.
"Erik. Listen to me. You are angry. You have every right to be angry, but this is wrong!" He defied in a hushed tone.
"Get out of my way." Erik hissed.
"Erik, my friend, I will not. I will not let you kill all these people. You are better than this!"
"You do not know me, Daroga. I am a monster!"
"Only if you choose to be." Nadir held his hands up peacefully. "Killing the boy will only bring you closer to damnation. Christine will not forgive you if you do this."
Erik snarled and dived forward. He swung his knife at Nadir. How dare he say her name! Nadir blocked it and twisted Erik's arm into a lock, a move Erik had predicted from their little time training together. He was prepared. He kicked out his foot, knocking the Persian off balance.
Nadir stumbled to the side and stumbled over the rails. Erik watched in horror. Those eyes were the same as Luciana's: wide with fear of death.
Erik lurched out and grabbed him, yanking him back to the floor before his could completely fall over the rails. Erik stood stunned for a few moments, unsure if he had actually saved Nadir. Images of Luciana's mangled corpse flooded his vision.
"Stay out of my way." Erik growled. "You'll just get hurt."
"Erik stop!" Nadir yelled. Erik didn't care if others heard them as he raced to the next line. The Chagny family would never be able to flee their seats in time by the time he had cut the ropes. He could hear Nadir sprinting behind him. But Erik's speed was unmatchable. Quickly, he gripped the rope and swung to face Nadir. Some sick part of him wanted to watch the hope from nadir's eyes crumble as he cut it. Maybe then, someone would truly understand his pain.
The Daroga's open palms were raised high. He stumbled to a stop in just out of reach of the rope. "Think about this! You won't just kill the boy, but all the innocent souls around him."
"Their sacrifice will be noted." Erik hissed.
"And do you think she will forgive you for that? Do you think she will love you after this?"
Erik snarled, his blade scratching against the rope.. "I don't need her to love me. I just need her to be with me!"
"Her love for you is what makes you a better man. You know this. You told me as much. Her compassion, her kindness, it was something so foreign to you. But it showed you how to be a good man, a better man! If you do this all of that would go to waste!"
"She was wrong. I was wrong. I am a monster. I want that boy dead and nothing will stop me!"
"Could you look at her in her eyes and tell her this? Could you? Could you bear it when she screams and cries because you murdered her friend?"
"He wants to use her. He wants to hurt her! I hate him!"
"Then think about this! What about all those others? Lo-look at the size of this thing. It will kill so many!" Nadir looked down at the audience, his eyes widening. "Erik. Didn't you say her father was a violinist?"
Erik froze, his knife against the rope. Nadir saw his hesitation and leapt at the chance. "That Chandelier will kill her father. He is in there, isn't he? That is the only family she has. That is the man you admire and respect. Does he deserve to die?"
Erik could see clearly now. He turned and looked into the orchestra. Sure enough, sitting in first chair, was the familiar brown curls of Gustave Daae. He swayed with music of his violin, a sound so elegant he could pick it out from the harmony of the orchestra.
"She will never forgive you." Nadir pleaded. "If you drop that Chandelier, you will lose her forever."
"No." Erik snapped. "No...he could survive."
"Is it worth taking that chance?"
Yes, the darkness in him thought. He had never spoken to Gustave Daae, but he had watched him for years. His love for his daughter puzzled him. He had never seen compassion from a man before, the only men he had ever known were from the gypsy camp. In fact, he detested nearly all men he had met. But Gustave Daae was gentle, nurturing, and bizarre in every way. He would never forget hearing him pray in the chapel, thanking God for sending Christine an angel of music. Thanking God for sending him. No one had ever thanked him before, though Erik knew that Gustave too thought him an imaginary angel.
"Do not go down this path."
Erik's hands trembled. All he had to do was pull the knife and cut the rope and that boy would be dead. The chandelier would kill him and Christine would be his. Why couldn't he just do it? He had killed before. He was a monster. This should be easy. But the knife clattered to the floor. Nadir rushed him, pulling him into an embrace as Erik covered his ears. If he made the right decision, why did it hurt so much?
Fire consumed him. Javert's hateful eyes loomed over him, the sound of the whip only muffled by Luciana's screams. Christine was before him now, crying in the room after he finally confronted her. Why did he say such horrible things to her? Why did he break that blasted mirror and leave her behind forever?
His nightmare quickly turned into a mesh of his worst fears, all taunting him with their short lived power. He tried to fight them, cry out in the night for mercy. But tonight, mercy came.
"Erik! Erik, wake up!"
Something was touching him. People never touched him unless they wanted to harm him. He jolted awake, his eyes barely having time to adjust to the darkness before he grabbed his attacker's wrists. He rolled, pinning them above their head. He would not be hurt, he would not let those nightmares beat him.
A soft whisper pulled him from his frenzy. "Please, you are hurting me."
It took Erik a moment to process the situation. He had her hands pinned above her head, his finger gripping onto her delicate wrists so tightly he was surprised they didn't pop. She was completely exposed beneath him, unable to free herself from the weight of his body and his grip. He was suddenly overtaken by the feel of her curves underneath him. It sent a shiver down his spine. Maybe he would just stay here a little longer...
Her wide eyes informed him that he was not wearing his mask.
Despite his desires, he rolled off her, covering the exposed half of his face with this hands. "My apologizes. I...I had a nightmare."
This woman continued to do the unthinkable. She had every right to scream and cower from him, but she remained at his side. Hesitantly, she turned to him, laying on her stomach as she stared into his eyes. His own eyes drifted to her back, where the top half of it was exposed by the low cut of the dress. He drank in the look of her smooth skin that hugged her spine. What he wouldn't do to trace his fingers all the way down that delectable ridge.
"What was your nightmare about?"
Her voice was a gentle honey.
"Do you truly wish to know?"
Her smile could convince him to destroy countries. "Every detail."
Christine POV:
Erik didn't look at her as he explained his nightmares. In a way she was grateful, as each horror broke her heart and twisted her stomach. How could he bottle such madness inside him? Instead of looking at her, his replaced the white, all mask over his face before describing the details of his dreams. He told her about Giovanni and Luciana. She gasped when he explained that she fell to her death, but he continued onward as if he did not hear her. He talked about her betrayal, which caused her to feel uneasy. It was such a defining part of her past that the thought of it made her anxious. However, he reminded her that he forgave her entirely, hoping that she would do the same for him.
"You know I forgive you."
He chuckled. "I know you say you do, but I struggle to believe it."
Her hand hesitantly found his. Their fingers locked around each other. She wanted to hold him, to squeeze out all of the pain until he was free of it entirely. Her lips ached to kiss away the tears that formed on the brim of his lashes. But for now, she would settle for this.
"I'm not in love with Raoul." She whispered. His hand tightened around her own. A silent gasp escaped his lips, but she continued before he could say anything. "He will always be my dear friend and I will love him as such. But I do not wish to marry him. That kiss was my first ever kiss, which was magical in and of itself. But it wasn't..." Christine struggled to finish her sentence. "I won't marry him because I do not love him like a wife loves a husband."
Erik was silent. At first, she assumed he was just thinking of what to say. But when he continued to remain silent, she realized he had nothing to say. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, waiting for him to say something. Could he really be at a loss for words over such an obvious statement? Christine couldn't wait for him to formulate some response.
"How are you feeling?"
He released a pent up chuckle. "It's indescribable."
Christine furrowed her brow confused by his response. "Do your ribs hurt that much?"
His eye finally glanced in her direction, a flash of confusion gleaming in his eyes. "Ah." He whispered. With a pained grunt, he forced himself to turn back towards her. "My wounds will heal, I can assure you, my dear. I am much better now."
Christine's heart fluttered at his words of endearment. The candlelight was dim, though bright enough for her to see the small semblance of a smile on his lips.
"You are beautiful." He whispered huskily. His palm cupped her cheek. Christine could only smile, biting her lip in eagerness of his touch.
"May I?" He asked. He did not need to finish his statement for her to understand his true question. She nodded, leaning closer so their bodies were mere inches apart. His lips found hers quickly. They were soft and tender, much more tame than his kisses the night before. Her fingers naturally splayed across his chest as she leaned forward with their kiss. Why did she feel the unquenchable need to touch him. Her legs interlocked with his as his hand found her lower spine, sending stars into her vision as his hips rocked against her own. For just a moment, he pulled his face away from hers.
"Christine, I lo-"
Three loud knocks interrupted him. They both jumped, Erik instinctively wrapping his arms around Christine for protection. For just a moment, Christine feared the Sultana had found them again, but a gruff voice from the other side of the door melted away her fears.
"You better be awake, Erik!" Nadir yelled.
Christine squealed as a bottle from Erik's nightstand crashed against the door. Erik was now sitting up straight, a fiery scowl on his face. "DAMN YOU!" He roared. The two men continued to badger each other. Once her heart settled, she found the argument quite amusing. Her girlish giggle silenced them. "Come on." She giggled. "Let's go."
Just as she was about to leave the bed, his hand grabbed her wrist. His earnest eyes kept her rooted. "Christine, I have something important to tell you."
Quickly, her finger brushed against his lips. "Tell me once this is done. Tell me once we are free."
Erik resigned, agreeing to her terms. As she left the room to give him privacy to change, she had to hold back her own tears. She knew. She knew exactly what he was going to say. But it terrified her that he wanted to tell her now. Did it mean he didn't think he would have the chance later?
Christine tried to keep herself calm as she waited on the chaise. This coup would change everything. It was their only chance at freedom which would not be given so easily. There was a list of things that could go wrong, resulting in their continued entrapment or even their death. She knew the dangers they faced . But instead of dwelling on them, she prayed and prayed that no matter how this day turned out, Erik would be by her side at its end.
Then, he could tell her that he loved her.
Erik and Nadir emerged moments later. Erik shuffled forward, his injuries clearly not fully healed. He wore his black mask, one that matched his entirely black outfit. Nadir stood in contrast in a bright blue uniform. Christine smiled at them. Would this be the last normal image she had of the two of them?
"My dear, your presence is required in the throne room."
Christine felt her heart freeze. She hated that room with a passion, but Erik's reassuring hand on her shoulder stilled her heart. "Do not worry. You will not be in there long. I have to open the tunnels for the soldiers, then I will find you. Just follow Darius, he will escort you and your friends to me."
Christine nodded, taking in every detail of his amber eyes. She leaned her head against his gloved hands. "Promise me you will be careful."
He chuckled, helping her to her feet. She felt dizzy at his close presence. "Anything for you, mon ange."
Nadir awkwardly coughed, earning another furious growl from the Angel of Death. Christine stepped away, smiling at Erik's clear embarrassment. She swore she could see the faintest hint of a smile on his mostly covered lips.
Nadir escorted her out of Erik's room before she could say goodbye. It wasn't that he rushed her, more that she did not know what to say. Should she have kissed him, or given him a hug? Why was the thought of saying goodbye so terrifying? Maybe, if she said it aloud, this really would be a farewell. To ease her troubled mind, she merely gave him a smile before following Nadir our the door. She glanced back at him, wishing she could just run into his arms and be done with the day. Something terrible was eating away at her stomach. What if something went wrong? What if Erik's injuries were too severe for him to survive? All these doubts plagued her mind as Nadir silently led her towards the throne room.
"Ah, Fazia." Nadir muttered, bowing before the harem leader. Christine stared wide eyed at her, confused by her sudden presence. Fazia glanced at Christine's dress, her lips drawing together in a thin line. Christine felt herself blush. What a state she must have looked. She was certain Fazia had assumed the worst.
"I will take mademoiselle Daae to the Shah. He is currently in a meeting and would not like to be disturbed."
Nadir nodded. "Of course." He gave Christine an encouraging wink before turning on his heels and leaving the two women. Fazia's arrival was probably for the best. This way, Nadir could get to work on more important matters. Regardless, Christine was not eager to be alone with the harem leader. Fazia seemed to return the feelings, as neither of them spoke for some time. Christine glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone else was around, but the halls were empty. Yet, Fazia still refused to move.
"Thank you." Christine eventually mumbled. "For saving me from the Sultana."
Fazia raised an eyebrow, her face completely stoic. "I do not think she realizes what a threat you have become. I helped you out of selfish reasons, really. I only ask that in turn, you return the favour."
Christine furrowed her brow. "A threat?"
"You are the lover of the most dangerous man in the room. Even the Shah could not stop that monster if he wanted to, regardless of how strong his leash is over him. If that leash ever does snap, I hope you remember last night and save me from the dangerous of that mad man's fury."
Christine fidgeted uncomfortably. Fazia gestured towards the throne room before leading the way. Christine quickly called out her name.
"Fazia, wait!" The two stopped. Christine glanced around one more time to ensure they were alone. "Fazia, you should leave the palace today. I cannot say why, but you should leave."
Fazia's eyes widened. Her mouth opened for just a moment, before quickly sealing shut. Christine trembled in place. What had she just done? Two guards rounded the corner and Fazia continued to walk forward. Christine followed numbly, her heart rattling against her rib cage. Fazia had saved them from the clutches of the Sultana, but did that mean she deserved to know about the coup? What if Fazia gave away their secret.
Fazia gripped onto the door handles to the throne room. She hesitated for just a moment. "When?" She asked. Her voice was a hushed whisper that Christine thought she was imagining it.
"As soon as possible."
Fazia nodded, opening the door. "Then you may enter alone."
Christine nodded. She gave a gentle nod towards the woman. Though her face showed no sign of fear, Christine could feel Fazia's uneasiness in the air. Christine wondered if she would take her advice and go. Everything Fazia believed to be the symbol of a good life was here. Would she be so willing to flee instead of fight for it?
Christine walked into the throne room, leaving behind the Shah's second wife. Whatever she chose to do, she just prayed it would not interfere with Erik's plan. Lord knows she would never forgive herself if anything happened.
She was immediately welcomed by her friends, who ran to give her an embrace. The room had returned to normal, the Shah nowhere to be found. They waited there impatiently, all trying to whisper the details of what they knew without the other harem women or guards hearing them.
With a loud bang, the door to the Throne room burst open. The women jumped as the Shah entered. He wore a long red robe anointed with gold. But Christine did not have time to admire his clothing. Instead, she was too focused on the lone finger that pointed directly at her.
"You have no idea how difficult it is to run a country when your mother is perpetually pissed off at you." He snarled. He stormed past her, plopping down into his throne. "It seems, little diamond, that your wardens will also have to pay for you with your own blood. Guards!"
Meg and Sorelli grabbed her, trying to hide her from the oncoming storm. But Christine brushed her aside. She hated this. This monster believed he could ruin her life however he chose. But she refused to play to his games.
She would be with Erik. He would get her out of here and they would live in a world surrounded by music and bliss. She stood boldly, walking towards the guards who appeared stunned by her compliance. She smiled to herself as she thought about his arms around her, and wondered if they would do that every night once they escaped. She turned to face the Shah.
"I will pay whatever you demand, your majesty. But you will never own me."
Christine was tired of being afraid. She would be brave. With Erik in her life, there was nothing that would stop her.
The Shah snarled at her, gripping onto the armrests of his throne. Without saying a word, another guard appeared with a long, black whip. It did nothing to diminish her resolve. The songs in her veins burned until she opened her mouth and released them from within. Her voice rang throughout the halls, deviant, clear, and unstoppable.
"Father once spoke of an angel. I used to dream he'd appear."
Two guards threw her to her knees before the Shah. They unsheathed their sword, daringly pointing them at her to keep her down. Christine raised her head, her fiery eyes glaring at the furious king before her.
"Now as I sing, I can sense him. And I know he's here!"
Christine took in a deep inhale, preparing for the crack of the whip against her back. The guard raised it above his head, letting the long tendril smack against the tile floor. It would hurt, she knew this, but it wouldn't be something that could not be healed in Erik's arms once they were free. She had set out on a mission to free her friends a long time ago. Today, she would not falter in her last chance. Today, they would all be free.
She closed her eyes, ready to take the pain. But just as her eyelids shut, a loud bang caused her to scream.
The guard before her collapsed on his back, a pool of blood slowly forming around his limp corpse. Christine turned, ready to leap into the arms of her saviour. But instead, her body froze.
Her saviour lowered his gun. His wide, boyish grin caused her heart to seize.
"Hello, Little Lotte."
Thank you all for your wonderful comments :) I will respond to them next week! I understand that to many of you, this ending is your living nightmare. Please forgive me! See you next week!
