New Year's came and the Palais Garnier held it's usual celebrations. Meg sat in her room wrapped in her dressing gown, drawing kohl outlines of peacock feathers on the side of her eye and wished she was getting married tonight. If she weren't feeling so tired. She wasn't sure she wanted to go tonight. For days she felt lethargic and a bit ill. Most likely too much Erik and not enough food, Meg thought to herself. She finished coloring in her feathers and stood from her vanity table.
"I don't think I've ever seen someone paint on their masks before. You do look stunning though," came his voice from the mirror.
"How can you say that when I'm not even dressed yet?" Meg stood and reached for her teal dress as Erik emerged from behind the mirror.
"Well your hair is stunning, then, all curled and pinned up like that. Is that your dress?" he said pointing to the garment in hand. "It's barely more than a tutu, you can't go out in that."
Meg slide on her short tulle skirted dress and walked over to him. "It's not that short, it's almost to my knees. But if you worried, maybe you should attend. Tie my ribbons around my waist?"
Erik tied the deep blue and green ribbons and chafed his hands over the cap sleeves of her dress. "Or you can stay. You do look tired."
"Exhausted. I'm all nerves lately and anxious, trying to get things ready with minimal questions from others. And your not helping. You keep me up far too late." Meg smiled and leaned back against him. She felt better with him. When she wasn't with him, she found herself resenting that she couldn't have a regular wedding, that what they had planned was little better than an elopement. More than anything she wanted to feel like she wasn't hiding something she was ashamed of. Having Erik near made it all go away.
"I can't say I recall you complaining of our - erm, well, exertions. You can count on me to be a perfect gentleman all night. Or I'll try. It's not often I get such a pretty bird in my claws." He strayed his hands over what she called a dress. "Or one so regal. In Persia the peacock is the symbol for the guardian of loyalty and often used to represent royalty. In Hindu culture, the peacock is linked with patience, kindness, compassion, benevolence and good luck All of which you are."
"How on Earth, Erik, did you go from wicked cat in whose claws I was caught to the sweet and romantic man? You turn my head and make me dizzy. I quite enjoy it."
"What can I say, I am a talented man, Meg." He lowered his lips to his ear and whispered, "Don't go. Stay with me, I have a surprise for you."
"What is it?" she asked with the unveiled eagerness of a child. Erik adored that little quirk of sweet innocence and gaiety she had.
"Stay and find out." He stood holding her, studying her face in the mirror, his own catching his eye occasionally. His own reflection still bothered him but not as it use to. He was learning to see himself the way Meg did.
"I can't. I have to go. But I'll come as soon as I can decently get away."
"I think two hours is more than enough time to grace the crowd with your presence. Be here then and I'll meet you and you'll get your surprise" Erik kissed the top of her head and showed her how to come down through the mirror.
It seemed the two hours dragged, and her few dance partners were rather dull, she thought in comparison to her Erik. When the time drew close she wove her way through the crowd and made it back to the dressing room. She was a bit surprised to see her mother there.
"Are you ready?" her mother asked.
"You mean your part of the surprise?" Meg was growing quite bewildered and turned a quizzical look at Erik as he came through the mirror.
"She is indeed." he said with a smile. "Confusion suits you my dear."
"She's no doubt wondering what kind a surprise could it be if it involves her maman," Antoinette said hugging her girl.
"N-no not at all, maman, I just thought- he.. Well I didn't know I was going to be escorted down to Erik's is all."
They smiled and said nothing, but ushered her through the glass and made their way down to the lake. To her surprise they didn't head to his house, but out to the Rue Scribe where a carriage was waiting.
"What on Earth is going on?"
"You'll find out soon enough, my child." In the dim light she saw her mother smile, almost glowing. It must be a very good surprise, Meg thought.
Erik opened the door and turned, scooping her up and placing her in a tufted cushioned seat. After helping in her mother, he hopped in and sat beside Meg, draping his arm around her. "No questions, now."
Meg settled back, pressing her lips together in an effort not to ply them both with questions on the spot. With any luck she would find out soon. And she did, rather sooner than she had expected. Several blocks away they pulled up in front of a small vestry. Meg's heart raced with excitement.
"Erik!" It seemed to be all she could say but that and the smile on her face was more than enough.
"Come, they are expecting us."
He slipped his mask on and stepped out, helping the ladies and ushered them inside. They were greeted by an elderly man with kind eyes in his purple vestments. He lead the way down the isle to the lectern, where his Bible lay and an official looking sheet that Meg assumed to be the marriage certificate.
"This is Father Isodore Robot."
"Yes, I am performing the ceremony this evening. It may be rushed, there's quite a queue for weddings tonight. Are you ready, my dear?" he said in his shaky voice. Meg nodded and grabbed Erik's arm. Her mother took her place beside her.
"Dear family and friends, on behalf of Erik Destler and Marguerite Giry, I welcome you all for this marriage ceremony. We are here today to encourage, celebrate, and support the covenant these two people, Erik and Meg, who are going to make and to share in the joy that they experience as they pledge their love and commitment to each other. We rejoice in the manner God has led them to each other and got them to the place where they now stand. Since it is your intention to marry, join your right hands and declare your consent."
Erik took her hand, his hands trembling, almost on the verge of tears.
The old shaky voice brought him back to himself. "Monsieur Destler, Repeat after me. " I Erik, take you, Marguerite, to be my wife, my partner in life and my one true love from this day forward. In the presence of God, our family and friends, I offer you my solemn vow to be your faithful partner in sickness and health, in good times and in bad. I give you my hand, my heart, and my love from this day forward as long as we both shall live."
Erik repeated the words flawlessly, his voice a bit thick with restrained tears. Meg said her vows, letting her tears flow, heedless of the trails of green and blue coursing down her cheek.
The whole thing whizzed by but she remembered every word every line and vow. The exchanging of rings, the pledges and finally the kiss. She felt more blessed than she felt she had a right to be. After signing the certificate and Erik's rather generous donation, they headed back to the Giry's flat. Only Meg and Erik got out. Meg kissed her maman, who headed back to the Palais Garnier to spend the remainder of the party there, giving her daughter and son-in-law a few hours of privacy.
The hours passed in bliss and passion and showers of eager happy kisses. They lay together whispering and laughing, mostly at Meg's smeared face, which Erik proclaimed to be even more adorable than ever. He readily told her how he managed the night, for once thankful that as yet, the world had not known his last name, something, Meg was sure, not even Christine had known, though she was discreet and tactful enough not to say so. When Antoinette came in nearer 4 in the morning, she was worried that maybe she should have just stayed at the Opera house. But the whispers and giggles and faint sounds of conversation set her at ease. Her one concern was Meg not living down in a cold cellar.
Meg slept much of the morning away, the excitement of the night coupled with her previous stress wearing her out. As Erik got out of bed he noticed she looked a bit pale, even under what was left of her makeup. He dressed and went into the living room, where Madame Giry was sitting, curtains drawn.
"Was Meg feeling ill before last night? She looks a little pale."
"She felt a little ill, but she said it was stress. Perhaps she is getting sick. It's cool and damp down here. Perhaps that is why. Erik, have you given real consideration as to where you will live? She can't stay down here locked away with you. And you do not need to be down here either."
"There are quite a number of difficulties for us to live in a normal house, Antoinette. You are aware of them. But I understand your concern. I want so much to have a normal life. A real house with Meg. We just can't have that here."
"Are you suggesting leaving Paris?"
Erik nodded. "It's been on my mind. I know Meg still wants to dance. But she could find another place. Some other place where the stories of the Phantom are vague and largely unknown."
"She's my only child, Erik. What would I do if I couldn't see her often?"
"It's all just speculation at this point, Madame. You really do not have to worry yet. But when Meg is better we will discuss it together. I'm just glad she's resting."
"Discuss what?" Meg asked as she walked into the room, scratching her bed head and rumpling it up worse.
"It will keep, my dear. How are you feeling? You still look pale." Her mother asked as she went up and hugged her daughter.
"I feel tired still and weak. But not as bad. I could sleep the whole day away still though. "
Meg didn't exactly get better, she just got better at hiding. She herself was worried but like her mother and Erik, put it to possibly having the flu. She resumed her practices and rehearsals after a brief honeymoon period of nearly two weeks after the Masquerade.
It was about this same time that everything took an unexpected turn. Erik seemed to have taken up residence in the flat, not something she was the least sorry for, but this morning he was already down in his home. She had gotten up, the smell of brouillade de truffe (eggs with black truffles) greeting her. Meg quickly washed up and wrapped up, heading for the little kitchen. She felt starved and ready to eat. But the smell turned and the taste seemed different and suddenly she felt her chest and stomach heave and she rushed from the room.
Fear and excitement gripped her chest as the idea sank in, the possibility of something sweet growing inside. She didn't know which was the most predominant. It seemed like such a short time that she had been with Erik, but having a family with him thrilled her. But would he be happy, could she continue her career, what would her mother think? She'd find out soon enough for very soon there was a knock at the water closet door. It opened before she could say anything, and there stood her mother looking worried but a faint smile on her face. Meg burst out crying. "What am I going to do?"