Aref walked away from the small house of his enemy. He slunk in the shadows, seething. It wouldn't be long until that masked monster would see who he really was. See what he could really do. But he couldn't let Erik know yet. No, not yet. It was too soon for that.
---
A man in a red robe and an astrakhan cap led his horse towards the clear water of a nearby stream. His skin was dark like bitter chocolate and his eyes shone like the emerald jewels that his rings were adorned with. He had seen too much death and violence and today he hoped to prevent more. Today he was going against his own people in hopes of saving a man that he had known long ago. A man with blonde hair, a love of music and a lot of money.
When his horse had finished drinking, he mounted again and galloped towards the house which he knew to be Erik's. If the Trap-door lover had sense at all, then he would surely help him, right? It was to save the woman who was once the love of Erik's life--not to mention the rest of the de Chagney family, but the Persian doubted that the rest of the rich family would interest the monster as much as the Swedish woman that he had given his heart away to.
He knocked upon the old wooden door three times before Erik came to him.
"Daroga! I have told you before to stay away from Erik. Why do you not obey Erik's wishes?" he skipped the greetings and went straight to his angry point.
"Enough of that, Erik. We need to talk."
"We are talking right now, daroga." Erik smiled at the childish joke.
"We need to speak of serious matters. May I come in?" Erik hesitated for only a moment before letting the Persian chief of police into his home.
"Sit while I make you a meal, daroga. You have travelled far and are in need of nourishment."
"I am fine, Erik."
"Nah, shoma khoob nistan!" he insisted, going into the mother tongue of the dark skinned friend that stood before him. (No, you are not well.) After about half an hour of him cooking in silence, he presented the Persian with a bowl full of a food which the Persian knew well: fesenjoon.
After a few moments of the two of them eating the stew in silence, the Persian commented, "You have not made this in a long time. Your chicken has gone dry." Erik frowned, knowing this was true.
"What happened to the custom of taarof, daroga? Have you been here so long that you are no longer polite to a host who provides for you?" A short silence, which the daroga took as an oppurtunity to change the topic of discussion.
"Have you been in touch with the de Chagney's lately?" he said almost conversationally. Erik saw through his tone, knowing what he was really getting at.
"The other day, yes. Something is wrong." A statement. Not a question.
"They are in danger. Have you heard of a man called Aref Farhadi?" A long pause which the Persian took as a positive answer, "He is rumored to have kidnapped the de Chagneys yesterday."
"No. He cannot have come here so quickly." Erik denied, remembering how long it had taken him to journey from the cave back to the mansion of the de Chagneys'.
"What do I care of the Count de Chagney?" Erik said after a spoonful of fesenjoon.
"It is not only the Count that he has kidnapped. To my understanding, it is also the Countess de Chagney and their daughter.
YOU ARE READING
In the name of our love
FanfictionWhen Erik (also known as the Phantom of the Opera) loses his home to a fire, it seems that he has nowhere to run. Christine—the love of his life—has abandoned him, choosing instead to marry Erik's enemy and Christine's childhood friend viscount Raou...
