Author's notes: Guys, I need reviews! Reviews, do you hear me? They are my inspiration and my joy, they keep me going! Hopefully this will grant me some.

On the plus side, it gave me time to practice my singing. Yay! I´m getting good at singing PotO and will be receiving vocal training soon. I feel lucky... and my teacher sang the part of Christine a lot of times. Make that extra lucky. :-)

starnat– (insert evil laughter here)

Enrinye – no one except you guessed where she was going, Z. and you only guessed because I told you. So nyah! Hey, I asked you to make a parody, didn't I? And if it won't be funny, you will be the one who'll suffer. Mwahaha. We'll see bout the happy ending. ;)

Mademoiselle Phantom – (bows)

Moonjava - (bows)

X X X

Chapter XI

X X X X

It was almost as if a shadow was sweeping through the halls and corridors of the royal palace. By now, the occupants of the building were used to the occasional flutter of darkness in the normally sunlit building, fortunately for them, it would seem, thus Erik's presence didn't frighten… not completely. Even the servants, who were used to the whims of their masters and humble behavior towards them, regarded the resident court magician with respect bordering with fear. Not without reason, naturally.

Drifting through the palace with briskness others could only achieve breaking into a run and still maintaining his standard of not a single inelegant or clumsy move, Erik had a general idea where Nadir might have gone. First he had to get out of the wing of the palace he was in, of course. The sooner he would get out of the palace and out of Tehran, the better.

Perhaps the Persian went to ready their horses. That sounded logical – the journey was long, they needed fresh animals and then there was the change of plans they would be traveling together. That sounded logical, indeed – Nadir was always the practical type…

"Erik!"

He stopped abruptly. There were few people who had the right to address him by name and even fewer that he would obey or want to talk to. Inside, he knew that while the shah of Persia belonged in neither category, but if he wanted to bring his dreams from paper to reality, he would have to obey at least partially.

It was a symbiosis, really. The shah required advice and his mother, the khanum, desired amusement. He could provide both. In exchange, he was allowed a degree of freedom and power unlike any other person in the country.

But it had a certain price to come with it – all the death and torment around him unleashed a part of him he struggled to control for most of his life, for the sake of those he cared about. Now, it was hard to avoid what became part of everyday life.

The swishing of his cloak was the only sound as he turned to the shah, with a practiced neutral expression. Even his golden eyes shone with self-control and an attempt at semi-humility. No man would ever have the privilege of being addressed as his superior anymore, but royalty deserved at least a display of common civility.

"Yes, your majesty?" Erik asked mildly. There was no real emotion behind his voice, not even annoyance at being delayed.

The "young man" as the Grand Vizier sometimes referred to the shah was, like his predecessors, a bit too self-confident and outgoing, even for a monarch. Erik kept his personal opinions about the royal family to himself, however.

If there was one thing he remembered from Nadir's preaching about court behavior, it was the fact that it was extremely easy to lose favor with the shah – he was about as unpredictable as the weather when it came to moods. The only thing you could always count on was his need to hear others defer to him.

Being addressed by the most common of his titles by Erik was probably the closest to respect he was going to get. Even the shah knew well of Erik's… individualism, you could say. And with all the services he had to offer him, the shah was more than willing to excuse his favorite advisor's lack of flattery.

"You are leaving? I thought you might want to attend the reception tonight." The shah noted, adding no real reason why he would think that Erik would want to stay.

"Deepest apologies, your majesty, but I have no intention of coming. My time to spare is precious and I prefer to spend it where I choose, in the company of those I choose. And a formal dinner with European bureaucracy isn't my exactly my fantasy of an ideal night."

Surprisingly, the shah chuckled. "Understandable, I suppose, my friend – you aren't used to the royal way of life yet. You are, of course, free to go where you wish. I have no need for your services tonight and I daresay that the khanum doesn't need any bloody amusement for now, either." He smirked slightly at his own remark, as if it was very witty and amusing.

Erik's lips curled into a faint ironic smile, but he didn't comment.

"Go, then, and give my regards to Nadir. His assignment seems to be going well and I am pleased with his work."

It was curious that he chose to speak of the "secret assignment" to the single person who wasn't supposed to know a thing about it, but who, naturally, knew everything about it. The shah, perhaps in the hopes of learning more about Erik, perhaps wanting to keep a close eye on his actions while in Persia, chose to delegate Nadir Khan, the daroga of Mazenderan, with the task of "watching over" Erik. It wasn't to the Persian's liking, naturally, and his honesty and inability to lie (especially to Erik) confirmed Erik's suspicions quickly.

Out of frustration and annoyance (and some degree of amusement), Erik actually volunteered to make the reports more interesting, just to make sure that Nadir wouldn't be replaced with someone more efficient. Up till now, there had been no real problem in their cooperation.

Lowering his gaze for a moment – as close to a respectful bow as one could get from him – Erik watched the shah leave before turning back to his original destination. It would have been amusing if he would have wished the shah fun with his little committee, but he wasn't sure if the shah was impervious to sarcasm or not. In the end, he decided not to risk it.

Predictably, he found Nadir near the gates of the palace, horses ready. They could leave within a few minutes – Erik intended on securing the architectural designs before allowing the horse to take a single step. He wasn't about to risk losing anything.

In that darkness and clad in dark colors, they were truly easy to miss, as was their main intention, anyway. There was no need to draw attention to the fact that they were leaving the palace. The only other thing they could hope for was a journey without anyone crossing their path.

Tonight, luck wasn't on their side.

The first sounds of a group of horses and people approaching were audible long before any of the mentioned even came into view. Inwardly cursing, Erik moved away from the palace main gate, the horses following him like obedient pets. Nadir decided it might be a good idea not to suggest that they just go anyway, since Erik didn't seem to be in the mood for discussion and chose to follow as well.

It took a few minutes for the newcomers to come into view, though they were still only shapes. The starlight wasn't enough to illuminate their faces and make their features recognizable. Most of them were definitely Persian – the turbans and clothes they wore were proof of that. The identities of the others were easy to guess.

Torches lit the entire palace, thus when the group finally arrived, even Nadir could distinguish faces. As one of the horses passed them, something seemed to catch Erik's attention. In the semi-darkness they were standing it, Nadir couldn't see too much, he saw the gleaming star-like golden eyes of his companion flicker. And they flickered very strangely, unlike the usual emotions he learned to distinguish there. Then there was nothing.

It took Nadir a second to realize that it was because Erik had disappeared all too quickly even for his standards, leaving him alone in the darkness. The horses also sensed it – without their master's comforting presence, they seemed nervous and jumpy. Securing the animals before they would get out of hand, the Persian snuck away, unnoticed.

Erik hurried though the courtyard, but not towards the retreating horses. He knew exactly where they would go and there was a much better place from which he could observe them than the shadows of the building. Instead of following them, he strode straight back into the palace, though through another entrance.

His destination was the throne room.

The throne room was large and currently had only one advantage for him. The walls had a balcony-like opening, revealing the corridors of the floor just above the room, which led to the more administrative sections of the palace. There was no way to access them directly from the throne room, but it looked majestic… or so the person who designed the palace must have thought.

A most unnecessary decoration, though the oriental motives in the official areas were among the better ones in the building. Still, for once, it proved lucky that the chamber was designed this way. During an official reception, there was no chance that someone would stand there or look there.

The wait wasn't long, much to Erik's liking, though he wasn't really keeping track of time. Anxiety seemed to cleanse his senses of any awareness of the rest of the world. His eyes were fixed on the entrance and his thin hands gripped the railings in front of him tightly.

The whole event was prepared, he saw everyone fully assembled, waiting only for the delegation to arrive. It wasn't just his senses deceiving him that the room was silent as the Europeans entered. Each servant was instructed to show them as much respect as they would show the shah himself. The opinions of the missions were highly valued, especially by the Grand Vizier, who constantly kept pointing out that to allow Persia to "take her place in the civilized world", they needed technological progress and allies in the "civilized world".

The delegates came in the company of an interpreter, a guide and several armed guards, who remained at the door once they reached the throne room.

First came a middle-aged aristocratic-looking man with thick hazel hair and a stern, calm gaze, well dressed and obviously the highest-ranking of the group. So it wasn't going to be a bureaucratic dinner after all. It was going to be an aristocratic dinner.

After him, giving the first man a respectable space, came two others, a man and a woman. They were arm-in-arm, both dressed formally, matching the rich appearance of the first man. Also aristocrats, it seemed.

The man was young, a boy, and the word easily described his appearance. He was of mostly average height, but still towered the woman by about half a head. His almost shoulder-long sandy hair was combed with precision, his eyes, despite the calm appearance of a nobleman, shone warmth. His clothes also showed wealth, but were more simplistic than those of the first man. Overall, he was the perfect image of a knight in shining armor from fairytales, which was perfect, for the woman on his arm was the image of a princess.

Her dress was of a soft lavender color and, judging by her escort's expression, the scent of her was matching that. her rich dark hair was pulled back and secured by silver clasps, matching the rest of her jewelry – the decorative belt of her dress and the necklace with floral motives around her slender neck. No sequin could match the smile she spared the young man, however.

Her gaze was soft, Erik could see that much when she glanced around in awe. For a moment, her eyes traveled to where he was standing. And her smile froze immediately – he took that as his cue to turn away and change position on the balcony. When he looked back down, the woman seemed to have regained her posture, dismissing whatever she saw as a trick of the senses. The delegation was already bowing, greeted by the shah.

"His imperial majesty welcomes the honorable delegates to Persia." The interpreter mechanically recited, with unnecessary emphasis on the shah's titles. If Erik wasn't too distracted to listen to what was being said, he would probably snort with contempt. His full attention was focused on the woman, however.

Her face bore a striking semblance of one he remembered with mixed pained love and releasing hatred. The bone structure was very similar, so alike that for a panicked moment, he actually considered that it was truly his "beloved" mother who had come to haunt him even after all these years.

A closer study and examination revealed the differences between the two, however.

Age was the first thing. His mother, while always youthful in appearance, could hardly look a teenager at the age of fifty. Softness was a thing her features always lacked. And wealth was also a factor he had to consider. Clothing this expensive was way beyond his mother's reach.

The last thing was her suitor. Only a man attempting to claim her hand in marriage would look at her the way the boy did. But the woman – just a girl still – was oblivious to the longing looks.

The older man with the couple greeted the shah in French, which was quickly translated by the interpreter. He introduced himself as a Count – Erik didn't catch the name – his brother, the Viscount, who stepped forth and also greeted the shah respectfully.

When he introduced the girl, Erik had to grab the wall for support. He anticipated much… but not this. There was no denying it, however. Even now, the face in his mind could easily be transformed into the one he saw before him through the influence of growing up.

A wave of ecstasy was followed by a rush of fury. The Viscount de Chagny formally introduced Christine Daaé as his fiancée.

X X X

AN: Dun dun dun! Bet you didn't see that coming, did you:p