The wedding took place in early spring. It was a beautiful, sunny day, the weather perfectly reflecting the joy and cheerfulness of the wedding party. Christine had insisted on hosting the festivities in the gardens she had grown to love so much, and Erik had gladly obliged by his bride's wishes.
The party was a small one. Christine's father was in attendance of course, as were Nadir and his wife Rhookheeya. Madame Giry joined the celebration too after Erik convinced her to renounce her duties for a day and celebrate with them.
After careful consideration, Christine had sent out an invitation to the De Chagny brothers, but Philippe had written back sending their regrets at having to decline, as a previous engagement had called them away to Paris. He assured them that both he and his brother wished the new couple every happiness.
Although the nature of their reply was not completely unexpected, Christine had been visibly disappointed as she first read the letter. When she had told Raoul that she could not accept his proposal because she loved Erik, he had taken the news as well as could be expected, accepting his defeat with grace, so she had told Erik afterwards. She had assured Raoul that she had come to value his friendship very much and that she would like to continue it if he still wished it, and he had told her that he did. Still, she could understand why he might not want to attend the wedding of the woman he had proclaimed to love to another man.
As they made their way home from the church ceremony, Erik asked her whether she was still upset that the young man was not there to celebrate with them, but she assured him that even the absence of her friend could not ruin the most beautiful day of her life.
Indeed, she had never looked happier, Erik thought as he watched her chatting animatedly with Jean, who was pointing out several flowers that were just now starting to bloom. A tingling warmth unlike anything he had ever felt before spread through his chest at the sight of her. He could not fathom what he could have possibly done to deserve this kind of happiness, but he would cherish it forever.
When the musicians Erik had hired for the occasion started to play a waltz, Christine walked up to him and asked him to dance. This time, he did not hesitate before taking her outstretched hand and accepting her invitation. Even though they had only shared one dance before, holding her in his arms and leading her through the steps now felt like the most natural thing in the world. He had only to look into her eyes and just like that night several months ago, everything and everyone around them seemed to fade away. For a few blissful minutes, it was just them and the music in a perfect little world of their own.
Afterwards, when the dancing had ended, Gustave played his violin as a wedding present to the new Mr and Mrs Destler, and Erik wrapped his arm tightly around his wife's shoulder as she surreptitiously wiped away a tear or two. His wife. He very much liked the sound of that. All they had been through over the past months had led them to this moment, in which he could call himself Christine's lawfully wedded husband. He would spend the rest of his life endeavouring to be worthy of that title.
Marriage turned out to be an unexpected constant state of bliss for Erik. He had given up any hope of sharing his life with someone this way quite early on, yet here he was, with a happy, doting wife by his side. Even several weeks after the wedding, he could still not quite believe that this truly was the reality of his life now. Every time she touched him or allowed him to touch her felt like a blessing. Every time he dared to kiss her and she did not stop him, but kissed him back with enthusiasm felt like a small miracle. He did not know if that feeling would ever fade, was not sure he even wanted it to.
Sometimes he still felt it was all too good to be true, that he was entirely undeserving of living a fairy tale life such as this. At those times, he would retreat into his own head, sinking away in brooding silence as he berated himself for believing that he could ever be the man Christine saw in him. Fortunately his wife seemed to have developed a sixth sense for reading his thoughts in those moments, and she would coax him out of his dark moods with her lovely voice and soft touches, assuring him that she wanted him, all of him, exactly as he was.
To his utter amazement, she even allowed him to share her bed. He had never been in the habit of sleeping much, but especially now he lay awake for hours, revelling in the simple pleasure of holding her, of feeling the soft puffs of her breath against his neck as she slept. He savoured every opportunity to card his fingers through her long dark hair as he had so often dreamt of, always careful not to wake her. He loved simply watching her sleep, taking his time to admire her lovely features, her face relaxed in sleep, before letting his gaze drift lower to study every little detail of her glorious naked body. She was so soft and beautiful and pure, and he could barely fathom that she had chosen to spend her life with him. If he had known what it was like to be allowed so close to someone, physically and emotionally, he did not think he could have survived those decades of loneliness.
Although he still wore his mask around the house most of the time, Christine had insisted that he leave it off when they were alone, especially when he joined her in their shared bedroom. To her obvious surprise, he had not put up much of a fight on the subject and had easily agreed. He simply could not refuse her. Anything she asked of him, he would gladly give, even if for the life of him he could not understand why she would want such a thing. Her easy acceptance of his monstrous appearance was still one of life's biggest mysteries to him. Every morning when she woke up next to him and his face was the first thing she saw as she lazily blinked open her eyes, he held his breath, waiting for the flicker of fear or revulsion on her face that never came. Instead, she smiled, nestling closer to him and kissing him softly on his deformed cheek, and then more firmly on the lips, reassuring him wordlessly of her continued love and desire for him.
The tedious long evenings he had so often spent in solitude were now brightened by Christine's presence. They dined together, often joined by Gustave and on occasion by Nadir and Rhookheeya, and they sang together as they had before, or if neither of them felt like singing, as was the case this particular evening, they sat by the fire and read to each other.
Tonight, they had made themselves comfortable on the sofa in front of the fireplace, Erik's head resting in Christine's lap as he read one of Christine's favourites to her. It was a tale about a king who had gone blind and sent out his sons to retrieve a bird whose song was said to have the power to restore his sight. However, Erik found it increasingly hard to focus on the story as Christine was softly running her fingers through his hair, causing his eyes to slip closed repeatedly as he enjoyed the feeling.
"You know, you make it very hard for me to continue reading when you do that," he said playfully. "In fact, I think I might have unknowingly married a witch. Surely you have enchanted me, put me completely under your spell."
"Is that so?" Christine asked innocently. "Well, if you wish for me to stop, you only need to say the word." She started to withdraw her hand, but Erik caught it.
"Don't you dare. I did not say I minded. On the contrary, I will happily stay under your spell for the rest of my life." He pulled her hand to his mouth and placed a lingering kiss on her wrist, relishing her soft little hum of contentment, before releasing her.
"Well then," Christine replied as she briefly caressed her husband's maskless face before returning her hand to its original position in his hair, "if I have succeeded in bewitching you, I suppose that means you will have no choice but to do my bidding whenever I wish from now on."
"You did not have to bewitch me for that, my dear. I would be happy to do anything you asked of me anyway."
"Love me, then," she whispered in his ear. "That's all I ask of you."
"I already do," Erik promised, his book now entirely forgotten, his gaze focussed solely on the beloved sight of his wife's face, "and I always will."