A/N - Sorry for the delay! I tried to put this up yesterday but ff wouldn't let me. Pout pout.

Thanks again for all of the reviews. I thrive on them!

Cassie - I am sorry you are lost. Try reading the last few chapters again!

Elizabeth had always been an imaginative girl. She had spent many childish years trying to convince her father that a mighty dragon did in fact live under her bed. On most days she was a princess, and all of the servants about her the royal court. There was no end to the possibilities! Out of all of her fantasies, the day she would marry had always been Elizabeth's favorite. There would be flowers, rows upon rows of them! Her dress would be white, of course, and the most gorgeous creation that had ever been. Her father would be there, beside of her, and at the end of the aisle would be the most handsome prince she had ever seen.

Today hardly seemed to compare to her dreams. The morning sky had been beautiful, and nearly cloudless – and then suddenly it had begun to rain. A torrential downpour matched Elizabeth's mood, and even her precious papa could not bring a sincere smile to her face.

"My love, my sweet precious girl," he had said only hours before. "Please do not be so downcast."

Elizabeth had only smiled forcibly at him, and then looked back to the mirror. Her gown was beautiful enough, and the bounty of dark curls were captured upwards in an elegant twist – two loose curls falling to kiss fair cheeks and frame her delicate features. She was breathtaking, and her father had told her so. She could not bring her heart, however, to mirror that joy.

"Yes, Papa" the obedient child replied. Raoul sighed. He had promised Christine that he would not reveal the change to his daughter, but seeing her in such a mournful state on her wedding day was more than his conscience could bear. He had crouched down, until he was eye-level with her.

"Child," he murmured, his voice gentle and soothing. "Things are not always as bad as they appear. Do you have faith, Elizabeth?"

"In God?" Elizabeth queried mildly.

"Of course."

"Yes, Papa." Again, a dutiful answer.

"Then you must have faith that he knows your heart, as well as he knows all of ours. Things will work out for the best, and you will be blessed."

Raoul smiled, and Elizabeth nodded. Understanding his words as an admonishment, she again struggled to settle this discord within her soul. She would marry William DeGent, and be the best wife that she could manage. Perhaps she would even learn to be fond of him, but she would never love him.

Now, hours after the discussion with her father, Elizabeth trembled with nervousness.

"Little Beth?" Raoul queried, rapping lightly at the door. Elizabeth stood, clutching the bouquet of flowers protectively. She had obviously been weeping.

"It is time," he murmured again, and extended his arm in invitation. Walking to him, Elizabeth began the most dreaded trek of her life. To the altar.

Nicholas felt as though he could not breathe. He stood in a small room off of the sanctuary, peering through a crack in the wooden door. There was a massive crowd filling each pew within the beautiful cathedral. Flowers were strewn everywhere, and for all the pomp and circumstance, it was very beautiful. He could not imagine how he would walk out in front of all of those people, however.

A tap upon his shoulder caused Nicholas to turn quickly. There, before him, stood Christine de Chagny. He smiled through his worry, lifting a hand to rake it through his dark hair.

Christine smiled. They had not spoken since that day in the tunnels. All of the schemes and plans had been hatched quite awkwardly betwixt herself and Erik.

"Elizabeth does not know yet."

"What?" Nicholas rounded on her, shocked. "She cannot be forced to marry someone if she does not consent! How do you know she would care to have me as a husband at all?"

"Marquis Morel," Christine chastised softly. "You should calm yourself. A man of your station does not act so impulsively."

"Marquis?" Nicholas queried, by this point thoroughly confused.

"Your father did not tell you?" It was still quite an odd sensation for Christine to speak of such intimate relations between the two men, but the road to healing was a long one and she was pleased enough to at last be on that road.

"No," Nicholas fumed, pacing now.

"Please, Nicholas." Christine spoke again, reaching to place her hand upon his forearm. "Do calm down. All the papers have been procured. You are now a Marquis, with your own land and quite a fortune. Erik has given you all that he had, it seems."

Nicholas' mind raced. How had Erik accomplished this? He remembered random mutterings from the masked man about money purchasing anything in a great enough quantity, but a claim to nobility? And if Erik had indeed exhausted his fortune upon him, what did that mean for Erik? What would the future hold for him? Poverty? Nicholas growled lightly at the conflicting thoughts in his head.

"Morel?" He finally questioned, and Christine could not help but laugh lightly. It was a pretty sound, Nicholas noticed. It made him miss Elizabeth.

"Well, yes. Apparently Erik had gotten the poor man thoroughly intoxicated before he finished the papers. When Erik could not think of a surname of his own accord, the man declared that he was dark and swarthy. Therefore, Morel."

Nicholas furrowed his brow thoughtfully. It was not a terrible name. He had not had a surname in all of his life, what an unusual way to receive one! Finally he nodded his agreement.

"Fine," he muttered.

"It's time for you to take your place," Christine urged him. "I must go and speak with Elizabeth quickly. Today, she will be your wife." Christine abruptly hugged Nicholas, to which he awkwardly responded by patting her shoulders. Christine felt a strong sense of regret that Nicholas was alone on this day. Despite all of her efforts, she could not find a way to permit Erik an open attendance. Raoul did not know the entire truth of the matter and hopefully, never would. To her dear husband Nicholas was an unfortunate young man with a sad past. A little research into his past, however, had discovered that he was the only son of the late Marquis Morel. Both the Marquis and his wife had perished in a fire, and that was the same accident that had left his face horribly scarred. Without identification on the tiny child, he was ushered off to an orphanage. Only now had they discovered his true nobility, and after having claimed the title once more, he was more than a perfect fit to be Elizabeth's groom. The future would be uncertain and difficult, no doubt, as Raoul still expected a new business partner in Nicholas. Those worries were for a later time, however. Christine smiled again at Nicholas, and then turned to leave. Nicholas took a deep breath.

From the corner, it seemed, a voice.

"I am here."

Nicholas did not bother trying to find the source of the voice. He understood both truths that he could neither uncover his father, nor should he. Nicholas simply smiled in the direction the voice had emanated from, finding courage in the familiar sound.

"Thank you," he muttered lightly, before stepping out the door and taking his place beside the priest.