Hello and welcome to my new story! I know what you're thinking but no, I am not abandoning 'Curse of the Mask' at all (if you haven't read it, please do!), I'm simply starting another plot bunny that has been bothering me for ages. :D

This fic is based on the movie (the characters look like their movie counterparts but feel free to imagine them as you like), set after the final lair scene. In this story, Erik had never been to Persia prior to this and had not become the Shah's assassin as was described in Susan Kay's 'Phantom'. I'm only borrowing the character of Nadir from that book. :)

I'm also aware that the idea of harems was exaggerated and 'romanticized' by Europeans and did not look/work like I describe them, but for the purpose of this story, let's just say they did. :)

I hope you enjoy this sneak peek!

I don't own anything POTO related.

Christine Daae stood in the middle of the room, trying to suppress her trembling. Fear and apprehension shadowed her earlier excitement of visiting a foreign country. The unfamiliar smells and sights faded into obscurity in her mind as reality brought her back to present. Her eyes were downcast, staring at her skirt which seemed so out of place here, very much aware of the two scrutinizing gazes upon her and the tight grip on her arm.

"An exotic beauty, to be sure." The man's voice stated and she realized her pale complexion was highly unusual in this country. "Was she alone?"

"No, she was accompanied by a man, her fiance. One of french nobility. He is in the prison at the moment." Christine's head rose up sharply as the woman mentioned Raoul and stared at the two people in front of her. Their skin was darker colour, their coffee coloured eyes scanning her from head to toe. They wore opulent dresses and head garbs, their wealth clearly displayed in their gold accessories and the gold overtones in the walls, pillars and archways, the architecture very different than what she was used to. The Shah and Empress of Persia, known as the two most powerful people in the country.

"Interesting. She is untouched, then?" The man said and Christine felt sick to her stomach at the sudden change of topic. "She is barely nineteen. What is her name?"

"Yes, she is pure." The Shah seemed to contemplate something and she swallowed the knot in her throat. Her destiny was yet uncertain and she wondered if they would kill both her and Raoul. "Her name is Christine Daae."

"She would be a nice addition to my harem." Christine blanched at the thought; while she did not know much about Persia, she knew what being in a harem meant.

"Or maybe she is the gift you have been looking for." He looked at his wife in amazement. "You know the master architect refuses to use your girls for pleasure. Maybe if he had his own girl, someone from his own country... I think she would be a nice gift for all the work he did on our new palace." The Empress gestured around them with a smile. Christine swallowed a gasp, they were talking about her as if she were a...a...commodity! To be gifted to a man for his perverse pleasures!

"You are brilliant, my dear wife." The man turned to a woman lounging back on plush pillows not far from the throne. "Zahra? Would you please prepare the girl? I want her to be ready in half an hour."

"Of course, your Majesty." The woman gave a quick curtsy and took hold of Christine's arm and motioned for the guard to let go. Zahra pulled her in the direction of the exit and Christine followed automatically, the eunuch following a step behind. She wanted to run but knew that it would not be possible and she dared not risk Raoul's life this way. Who knew what the Shah and his wife were capable of?

In other circumstances she would have admired the foreign architecture, the marbled floors, the high ceilings and the stark white and gold of the walls. The palace was beautiful but at the moment she cared not. They arrived in a large room filled with women and girls with two eunuchs guarding the entrance. She was led into a secluded room in the back. It was very warm and inviting, brick coloured walls adorned with paintings and ornaments, plush pillows everywhere on the ground covered by persian rugs.

Several women flocked around her and she heard Zahra say something to them in a language Christine did not understand. They circled her in a flurry of bright colourful garments that revealed more than hid. Their clothes reminded her of the costumes she had sometimes worn in the Opera Populaire as a member of the ballet corps. She knew these were the Shah's concubines.

She started when they began tugging at the fastenings of her dress, shocked when they began pulling it down from her body. Bewildered, she tried to slap their hands away but they merely laughed and continued undressing her. Their moves were quick and efficient and soon she was standing bare in front of these strange women. She covered her modesty as much as she could with her hands but they simply smiled at her embarrassment. While she was used to undressing in front of other women and girls ever since she had joined the ballet corps, nobody looked at her like this and rather minded their own business. Their stares unnerved her and she blushed, trying not to think about it.

She sighed. When was the last time she had thought about the Opera house? Mere two days ago, when she had seen a beautiful dress in a shop window that reminded her of the one she wore during her debut. It has been nearly five months since the chandelier disaster and she found herself missing her old home more and more. Shaken and cold from the subterranean lake, Raoul had taken her to his estate. It had been all very proper, she has had her own room and nothing untoward had happened.

They had been both out of sorts for a week after that; Raoul having suffered a cold, Christine mentally exhausted. They had not discussed what had happened and had steadfastly ignored any mention of music, opera or theatre. Two weeks later Raoul had returned home with a new engagement ring. She had forced a smile on her face as he had slipped it on her finger; it was too gaudy, more than the first one and felt like a dead weight adorning her hand. They had not discussed the wedding nor the date and she felt grateful. She was not ready for a marriage to Raoul, not when her mind swirled with doubts and guilt.

Most nights, she had dreamt. Dreams of a tall man shrouded in darkness, man that had not been her fiance. A man that had made her feel whole and her heart had swelled in his mere presence. It had been around that time when her and Raoul's estrangement happened; she was not quite sure why or how, she just knew they had grown more distant as time passed. She had tried to make it work but every time he would touch her or kiss her chastely on her lips, she felt empty inside. That had been when Raoul had decided they needed to get away from France for some time. He had chosen the distant lands of Persia but during their holiday they would stop for a day in other foreign countries. Christine was enjoying their trip up until this point, though she felt it did little to improve their relationship.

They had been in Tehran not even two days when they had been kidnapped. She did not know why. She remembered screaming for him when they had been separated and him telling her that it would be okay before she had been knocked unconscious. She feared for her and Raoul's lives and wished she could do something to release him from prison. Maybe if she begged the Shah and his wife, they would relent? She would give up her freedom and become a concubine if it meant that Raoul would be released and safe. The thought brought her back to present and she observed the women as they circled around her, laying various coloured fabrics against her skin, then taking away the cloth with a frown on their face. It did not take them long to find the colours that suited her and they happily dressed her. Christine automatically moved as they instructed, resigned to her fate - there was nothing she could do to get away.

She was to become some stranger's mistress and would be forced to submit her body to the man. She was terrified and felt incredibly light headed. Christine had been surprised to hear the man had turned down Shah's concubines. Maybe if she was lucky, he would turn her down too? She remembered hearing the Empress say he was from the same country as Christine. Despite her troubled thoughts, she wondered just who the mysterious Frenchman was.

It wasn't long before she was completely dressed, though that statement overestimated the coverage of her skin. She looked at herself in the full length mirror on one of the walls. She had worn a similar costume back in the Opera, but nothing had felt as fine as the silk now resting against her skin. The long flowing skirt reminded her of the gold one she had worn during Don Juan Triumphant, thought this was crimson and had little gold details adorning it. Thankfully the material was not too see-through, but it had a large slits on both sides, revealing the whole of her leg when she walked. The waistline was decorated with many coin-like decorations that jingled every time she moved. The undergarments she wore were very strange and form fitting as they covered only the necessary parts and not the thighs as she was used to. Her midsection was mostly bare, the gold elaborate cloth of her top covering only her breasts and a strip of skin underneath. There were short puffy crimson sleeves connected to the top, made of sheer silk. A beautiful jewel adorned her head and hung down her forehead and a red and gold a little see through headscarf covered her hair, nose and mouth, making her appear very mysterious. Even though the costume was highly improper in her country and even more so of a future Vicomtess, she found herself quite beautiful.

"Come, my dear. I'm going to lead you back now." Zahra took her by the hand and slowly they walked out of the room into the main spacious harem and past a door. "As you might have guessed, I look after all the other girls in the harem. I am the Shah's first concubine. Of course you are not a part of the harem but you will be given to the master architect and you will service only him. Nevertheless, our function is the same." She waved nonchalantly at a doorway to Christine's right. Christine turned her head to look and immediately forced herself to stare back ahead. What she saw had been unexpected, causing a wild blush to spread across her cheeks. While she was not ignorant to the topic of intimacy, she had never thought she would see a couple, or even multiple couples, during the act in plain daylight. She had often stumbled upon nightly trysts of some of the chorus girls, but those were in the darkness and she could only hear moans of the two people involved as she quickly walked away.

Zahra beside her only gave an amused chuckle and continued leading her out of the harem rooms while Christine tried to erase the image from her memory. As much as she hated what fate forced her to do, she consoled herself with the fact that she would be only servicing one man. If he was a Frenchman, maybe she could try and befriend him, make it a little less awkward and embarrassing. But that would only depend on the man's character and suddenly Christine's hope faded. They wandered through the hallways where they came across an olive skinned man with jade eyes and wearing traditional Persian clothes. He smiled warmly as they approached him; his eyes were warm and kind and Christine felt at ease despite not knowing the gentleman.

"Zahra, it is nice to see you." He addressed the woman next to her in their native tongue. His eyes slid to hers and noted with surprise the fair color of her skin. "Is this a new concubine?" For Christine's benefit, Zahra replied in her accented French.

"Hello, Nadir. She is not a concubine, she has been gifted to the master architect by His Majesty." Monsieur Nadir's eyebrow rose in surprise and slight disbelief but before he could say anything, Zahra continued, addressing Christine. "This is Nadir Khan, he is the daroga here - the chief of police."

"Pleased to meet you, monsieur." She said quietly.

"My pleasure, Miss-?"

"Christine Daae." Zahra provided and Christine could see how the man in front of her blanched and his eyes widened. "If you'd excuse us, we need to go back to the Shah." The man only swallowed and nodded, letting them pass and Christine could feel his gaze on her back. What was it about her name that made the man react so? They have not met before, have they? She was sure she would remember such distinguished person. She did not know how far abroad the Don Juan scandal spread, but then again no one else seemed to recognize her name before. Perhaps he simply travelled and read the French newspaper.

Finally they arrived to the grand room but stood aside while the Shah talked to the master architect. Christine's eyes swung from the emperor sitting on the throne to the man standing a few steps away from the raised podium. Her eyes first took in his black trousers and then trailed up his form, noting his straight posture and his hands linked behind his back as he stood silent, listening to the Shah.

"I know I have paid you for all the marvellous work you did on my new palace but I wanted to give you an extra special gift."

Christine studied the gentleman's profile and found herself struck with shocking familiarity. She swallowed and continued with her perusal of his features; the angle of his jaw, the curve of his strong neck and the elegant slope of his nose. It could not be! She was glad he could not see her, this way she could just simply stare at him without his knowledge. He had almost always been half hidden in shadows, creating a dramatic air around him but now he was bathed in the setting sunlight and looked almost...ethereal. For long years she had thought him to be a celestial being but now she knew he was a man like any other - solid flesh, muscle and bone, so very near. He was here.

"Thank you, Your Majesty, but there is no need."

"I insist. I know you have turned down my offer to visit my harem." The Shah smiled and the other man's jaw tightened. "Therefore I decided to gift you with a beautiful woman for only your own disposal. She is French, so I'm sure you will find some common interests. Zahra, please bring in the girl."

Christine's heart doubled its pace and her knees shook as Zahra led her further to the room. She watched him turn towards them and nearly froze in the spot when her eyes met the intense green of her Angel's. She had forgot how breathless he made her with just one look but stood her ground as she drank in all of his features like a woman in a desert grateful for any drop of water. He was exactly as she remembered except for the flesh coloured mask on the right side of his face, which was almost invisible if you did not know of its existence. His eyes suddenly sparked with recognition and she could see him tense up, his hands balling into fists at his sides. Surely he could not recognize her when her face was mostly obscured by the veil?

"Remove the veil please." With shaking hand, she did as the Shah told her and watched her Angel closely but his face was expressionless, though his eyes burned her to the core. What was she really expecting? Happiness? Surely she could not be that naive, considering the state she had left him back in his lair. She watched him turn back to the Shah as the older man addressed him.

"Her name is Christine Daae. Zahra will prepare her and send her to your room." She could see her Angel's jaw was clenched tight as he turned on his heel and walked out of the room without another word. As Zahra led her away in the opposite direction, she realized that for the first time since she had come to the palace, she did not feel afraid.

Her Angel was with her.