I'm so glad to see some of you guys back!
This story, although mostly already written, is going out to a fabulous person whose reviews make her my muse...Erik's Angel. I missed her very very very much.
If anyone likes MCR, I have some fics on another site I can direct you guys to.
A rose to anyone who can figure out where Erik's last name came from…
-Nico
An unfamiliar pain suddenly radiated across Erik's face. Slowly, he peeled his eyelids open coming face to gleaming face with something he hadn't seen in ages.
The sun.
He sat up, pressing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, which were throbbing with pain.
It was then he realized he wasn't wearing his mask.
Frantically, his hand sought out the familiar white covering.
Instead, his fingertips found skin.
Skin that was smooth to the touch.
Erik threw his legs over the edge of an enormous pewter bed set in the middle of an even more lavish bedroom. He stumbled awkwardly as his eyes continued to adjust to the dusty rays of the morning sun.
Something glinted in the far corner of the room, causing Erik to turn and move slowly towards a mirror.
As his eyes adjusted, he felt his knees go weak.
The reflection staring back at him with wide, disbelieving eyes was definitely him, but with one element missing.
He was completely unscarred.
"It's not possible," Erik whispered aloud, backing up until his legs hit the edge of the bed causing him to sit.
Suddenly, the bedroom doors flew open, causing Erik to jump to his bare feet.
A stunningly beautiful raven-haired beauty flounced into the room, followed by two young maids whose eyes were glued to the floor. The woman looked over at Erik, her face puckered into an unmistakable mask of discontent.
She picked up an empty bottle, which was resting on its side next to a half-full brandy glass.
Without warning, she smashed it down onto the shining marble floor.
Erik winced at the resulting sound.
"Have you finally slept off the drink?" The woman demanded, her voice lilting over a decidedly English accent.
Erik blinked. "Pardon me, Madame?"
The woman smirked. "Madame?" She repeated, coming a bit closer to Erik, who backed away. "You are still drunk!" She declared.
"I most certainly am not," Erik said, becoming increasingly irritated by his confusing situation.
"Get dressed!" The woman suddenly commanded. Erik looked down at himself, suddenly becoming aware that he was only wearing very thin silk pajama pants. "You must be at the Opera in less than a half hour!"
"The Opera…" Erik repeated. The woman rolled her eyes.
"Don't tell me you have forgotten, Erik!" She whined. "Father will be extremely disappointed if you don't show up and introduce yourself and the new Patron today!"
"Patron…" Erik swallowed, unable to say anything intelligent.
"Oh God," the woman wailed. "Merry, go get Master Erik some coffee," she said to one of her maids, who bobbed and scurried off. She moved over closer to Erik and pointed a perfectly manicured finger in his face.
"Now you listen to me, Erik," she said angrily. "We both knew that this marriage would carry with it a certain amount of responsibility for you," she spat.
"Wait a moment…marriage?" Erik interrupted.
"No you wait, Erik!" The woman continued. "All I ask is that you act the part of devoted husband and generous patron once in a while…and only in public," she added bitterly. "And my father expects the same. Otherwise," she gently placed a lock of hair that had fallen from her perfect upsweep, "I will be forced to go back to my father and explain what a perfectly horrible beast you truly are! Then what, Erik! No more money for your whores and drink…whatever will you do then?"
Erik regarded the woman before him, unable to come to terms with anything she was saying.
"Silent," the woman mused suspiciously. "It's not like you, Erik. Have you nothing to say for yourself?"
"Where…where are my clothes," Erik stammered, unable to say anything else.
The woman's eyes darkened. "These childish games you play amuse no one," she told him. "You have fifteen minutes."
And with that, the woman left, slamming the door behind her.
Erik stood in the middle of the room, feeling as if he was dreaming.
Something, however, told him that this was all too real.
A light knock came at the chamber door. It opened a hair.
"Master Erik?" Came a meek voice. "May I come in?"
"Yes," Erik said, his voice shaking.
The little maid his…wife…had sent to fetch coffee had returned, her pale face turned away from his as she made silent work of filling a saucer of steaming coffee for him.
Erik watched and took the coffee from the girl with a shaking hand.
Just before she left, Erik called out to her.
"Girl," he addressed her, feeling stupid for not remembering the child's name. "What is your mistress's name?"
The maid looked at Erik, her brows knitted together in confusion.
"Is this another one of your games, Master?" She asked, fear creeping into her voice.
Erik felt a shot of shame spike up his spine. He refused to think about the fact that he had engaged in 'games' with this innocent child.
"No," he told her. "This is not a game. The lady's name, if you please?"
"Athena," the maid replied. "Athena Mansart."
Erik's skin crawled at the sound of his last name.
"Master," the maid addressed him. "Are you alright?"
Erik looked up at the frail girl. "Yes," he said softly. "Yes, I'm alright."
The maid bobbed a curtsey, looking at him curiously one last time before hurrying away.
Erik watched the door close and closed his eyes. "I am definitely not alright," he whispered, moving mechanically towards an enormous armoire he assumed held his clothing.