Erik tried to laugh under his initial panic, "shema mera ma shenasad? az keja? rewan?"He tried to play dumb. If he was lucky, Aref would be horribly mistaken. If Aref really recognized him, he would surely turn him in. (You know me? From where? Rouen?)
"shema ma danad keh. Mazenderan." Aref confirmed Erik's nightmares. (You know where. Mazenderan)
That's it. I'm finished. This isn't the Palais Garnier, nor is it the Shah's domain. I can't escape if I land in a jail cell in Paris.
"awh waq'ea?" Erik desperately hoped that Aref didn't sense his panic. (Oh really?) He dug his heel into his horse, trying to provide a distraction for Aref--and himself. Aref quickly caught up to him and travelled beside him.
"belh, shema keakh shah sakheth shedh aset." (Yes, you built the Shah's palace)
"derset aset keh." (That is correct)
"aaa shema henwez hem kemend khewd ra dasheth bashed?" (Do you still have your lasso?)
"Baleh," Erik replied cautiously. (Yes) There was a short silence which made Erik slightly panicked.
I shouldn't be telling him all of this information. Then Erik reconsidered for a moment, But what else are we to talk about on an almost Twenty-four hour journey? The weather? Parisian fashion trends? Wars? Erik blinked, remembering what the Shah had once said to him:
"With you, we could very well win the war against Afghanistan!"
That was back when he was young. Almost thirty years ago! Would Aref really remember his reign in Persia? That time where the Punjab lasso and the derb dam 'easheq--the Trap door lover--ruled.
Erik was only seventeen at the time, which would make Aref only seven. Only a child. But children still remembered. Children remembered quite well.
Erik looked at Aref once more. Had Erik seen that young face in the crowds of the Shah's palace? In the Shah-in-Shah's little viewing window that looked into the Torture Chamber? What would he know? What would he remember? What memories haunted this youth? That was what bothered the masked man. What did Aref remember? What did he forget? What should he forget?
Aref's voice suddenly rang out, bringing Erik back from the past and away from those horrible thoughts of death and drunken excitement, "Halet khubeh, Erik?" (Are you okay, Erik?)
"Khoobam, mersi." Erik nodded. (I'm fine, thank you)
"ma tewaned shema ra bh men aad ma dhed?" (Could you teach me?)
"shema aad ma dhed?shema cheh m'ena aset?" (Teach you? What do you mean?)
"ma tewaned shema ra bh men ma amewzed keh cheguwenh bh asetfadh az penejab kemend?" he asked. (Could you teach me how to use the Punjab lasso?)
"Nah" (No.)
"Chera?" (Why?)
"aan bash az hed wheshetnak aset!aaa shema ters w wheshet an ra der Mazenederan shed nema baned?der ataq shekenejh!" Erik exclaimed. (It is too horrible! Did you not see the horror it was used for in Mazenderan? In the Torture Chamber!)
"I know, I saw. But I still want to learn. " Aref complained.
"What is your reason for learning? " Erik inquired, genuinely curious.
"I know many people who are fit for that fate." There was a long silence after Aref said that. His words hung in the air frighteningly. Neither man dared to speak after that. Only when they stopped for lunch did Erik reply.
"I will teach you on one condition."
"What is it?" (What is it?)
"You will not harm those that are innocent. If they are chased by the police of this city, so be it., you may do what you please. If they are innocent, you will not touch them."
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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...
