Erik could not think of a time in his life when he had ever felt such anxiousness.

You would think that because he had married Arabella once before – and in front of a crowd of over two hundred observers! - he would feel quite serene and confident. He would not be putting on any performances … ad considering they had been lovers' for quite some weeks he no longer had to be petrified of his wedding night.

So … why am I so terrified? He asked himself as he walked along the street with Arabella on his arm.

"Tell me once more…" Arabella interrupted his thoughts abruptly. And he looked down to meet her eyes to realize with shock that she might be just as nervous as he was. "What is going to happen?"

"Well…" He took in a deep breath, glancing back at Nadir and Darius.

The servant was still carrying the package Erik could only assume contained the wedding rings he and Bella had ordered very shortly after she had accepted his proposal. The two of them had needed to travel for nearly a day just to reach a city large enough to have a reputable jeweler; and neither had any idea what the other had picked for a wedding band. What made it all the more nerve wracking was that they had not ordered their own bands, but had ordered for each other; and would have no idea if the rings fit properly until the actual ring exchange! Nadir had offered to collect the rings on their behalf on his way to Saintes Maries de la Mur to save the bride and groom another strenuous two-way journey.

"First we will have a very official little ceremony in an undoubtedly claustrophobic registration office. We will sign our names to a marriage license and certificate, and will be considered legally husband and wife. Afterward we will go to the church. A priest will speak Latin for the liturgy … but we will speak French for the vows. No doubt he will sing in an absolutely horrendous tone of voice that will bring me dangerously close to gouging out his-"

"Erik!" Arabella laughed, the tone amused and appalled and also revealing her nervous. "That is horrible! No violence on our wedding day!"

He was surprised into his own bout of laughter - a rare kind of laughter that expelled some of his nervous energy and garnered the attention of two women passing by. They saw his mask and quickly moved onward; but he barely noticed long enough to feel uncomfortable or affronted. He was simply too surprised at how easily Arabella made him smile … make him laugh.

He squeezed her arm.

"I do not deserve you." He admitted suddenly, his voice low and urgent. "Ma Bella… You are so young, and good, and gentle, and beautiful. You have a whole life before you! Are you … are you certain about going through with this? Please understand … I want you to! I desperately want you to! But will this not be ruining your life?"

Arabella looked up at him with a puzzled expression; clearly trying to understand where this bout of self-loathing and self-doubt had come from. He had managed to be so sincere and confident on the day of his proposal. He could not blame her for her surprise. But he had doubted himself from the very first moment he ever realized he loved her. In spite of everything … perhaps because of everything… he just could not walk into the office of registry and chain Arabella to him without giving her a final chance to abandon him – as she should have many years ago.

"I …" She glanced around and then began to speak in Romani to make certain no one would understand her. "I love you, Erik. You are mine; and I am yours. There is no other choice to be made. W-why do you doubt me now?"

"You misunderstand me!" he insisted, following her lead but gently pulling her off to one side to speak in a low urgent tone. Darius and Nadir remained nearby, looking at them in confusion but still having sense enough to give them space and privacy. After a moment, Nadir frowned deeply and began muttering bitterly to Darius. But Erik paid him no mind. "This is not about doubting you, ma belle! But you know how difficult I am to live with! I would never want you to regret-"

"Stop."

Arabella's voice was so sharp that he actually drew away from her as if from a blow. He saw her eyes flash fire, and he swallowed thickly. He hated the pain that must have instigated her anger; knowing he had caused it.

"I love you, you fool." She went on coolly. "Do not do this. Not on our wedding day. Do not question me again as if I do not know my own mind!"

"But, Bella-"

"No." She drew her hand out of his – but backed away no further than that. "Tell me Erik … do you love me?"

"Of course I-"

"Do you want me to be your legal wife? To have a bond like we have never had before? To know that nothing – literally nothing – other than death can separate us?"

"More than anything!"

When Arabella lifted one hand, Erik found himself flinching away and closing his eyes. It was not because he thought Arabella would hit him. He just could not seem to convince his body that her touch – when she was angry – could possibly make him feel anything less than subhuman. And … well … maybe a part of him still could not help but expect a blow. He had, after all, just earned it beyond measure. But after a moment, when nothing had happened, he opened his eyes again and lifted his gaze to her beautiful young face.

She is so young! Everyone is going to think I have a child bride! What ridicule we will face in Trieste! How can I do this to her?

Arabella's hand was still up in the air between them. She had waited for him to recover from his brief anxiety; and only when their eyes again met did she touch his face. It was not a particularly gentle caress … she was still too hurt and angry by his insulation for that. But it was a touch of love and affection. And … it made a point. She was touching him out in public in a way that most people would never dare to show affection in front of others. Husbands and wives barely even kissed in public! It simply was not done!

"Do you think you will want your freedom?" she whispered. "Will you want someone purer?"

"Never!" It was his turn to feel anger rise over the anxiety – but he forced himself to keep it under strict control. "Never, ma belle! A man would have to be deaf, blind, and dumb to ever want someone more perfect than you!"

Slowly she lowered her hand, and then tucked it back into the crook of his arm.

"Then no more questions." She stated simply.

He blinked hard; amazed at how suddenly she released both her anxiety and anger in order to turn into an utterly confident woman again. She looked as though she had just won an argument that had been conquered long before it had begun but had still been difficult to prove to her opponent.

Perhaps she had.

Swallowing thickly, he glanced at Darius and Nadir as they all continued onward.

"Will we exchange our rings at the registry; or the church?" she asked him curiously – as though he had never spoken of his doubts at all. It took Erik almost a full minute to be able to return to the topic at hand.

"We may exchange them in either place." He stated slowly. "It is considered more of a romantic gesture. If you wish to be grandiose about it … then we exchange them in the church. We … we could even pray to Saint Marie … if you wish; before or after we marry at the church. Asking for the blessing of the patron saint of gypsies … it could not hurt our chances at future happiness – could it?"

"I think that is a fine idea." She agreed with a new, brilliant smile.

In only a few more steps, they had reached the office building where the first legal steps would be taken to again bind them as husband and wife. Erik briefly touched his coat for the hundredth time since leaving the shack – making certain his identity papers were there. He would need to present them to the official. Both were excellent forgeries – one of them identifying Arabella as 'Mademoiselle Arabella Lyberia' so that marrying a woman who already had his same last name would not raise any eyebrows. Arabella had detested the idea of going by her fathers' name once more; but Erik had persuaded her. She would only need it for those few moments; and it would be easier to use a familiar name than it would be to invent a new one just for a single days' use.

They were greeted by a man around Erik's own age, with thick salt and pepper hair and a round, care worn face. He was clearly a man who did not work half so hard in life as he thought he did … but no doubt a lifetime of dealing with other people's legalities probably wore a man down after a while. Erik, himself, could barely stomach dealing with clients when he had been building houses for them.

Which, in retrospect, made him wonder if it really suited him to return to that career in Trieste. Still … it was easier than learning an entirely new and unreliable trade.

He handed over the papers when he was asked, and Nadir did the same with his own identity papers to prove who he was as a witness. All of them had come prepared with more than necessary. Erik wanted nothing to stand in his way on the day he could make Arabella irrevocably his; in spite of his misgivings on her behalf.

"Very good…" the official murmured; looking bored and as though he wanted nothing more than to finish with the group of strangers and go home to a bottle of hard alcohol. "Now, Monsieur Sauveterre; if you would kindly remove your mask so I can properly identify you."

The room fell so quiet that Erik could almost make out conversations occurring on the other side of the building. Erik felt an immediate pressure on his chest, as though someone were using an enormous needle to inject him with lead. It was cold, and hard, and he immediately felt himself struggling to breathe normally. His entire body went ramrod straight, and he took an instinctive step back.

"I …" He glanced at Arabella, who was staring at the official in utter disbelief. Then he returned his eyes to the man himself. "Monsieur … you have read my identity papers. You can understand why I wear this mask. I… couldn't possibly take it off… please."

"I understand, Monsieur." The man said, glancing up at him with what was obviously forced patience. "But you could quite literally be anyone behind that mask – masquerading as Monsieur Sauveterre."

The idea of anyone wanting to pretend to be him almost made Erik laugh; but he couldn't. He could barely even more. His chest felt even tighter than a moment before.

"I am afraid I do not give private shows, Monsieur." He said slowly, his hands curling into a matching set of tight fists. "You will have to humor me in this."

Sighing, the man standing across from them at his desk removed the spectacles he'd until that moment been wearing, and dropped all their identifying papers onto the surface before him.

"Without positive identification of my own, I cannot officiate the marriage." He told Erik as if speaking to an incredibly dense child. "It will only take a few seconds."

"Erik…" Arabella stepped closer to his side, putting a hand on his arm in support. "You do not have to do this. We can go home … have a lovely supper with our friends. We don't have to-"

"NO!" Erik exclaimed, looking at her in half panic. "No! I can't just walk away from this! He will simply have to make an exception!"

"No exceptions." The official stated simply – but firmly. "I cannot risk my job by cutting corners, Sir."
"No one is going to stare at my husband!" Arabella flared. "I would rather live in sin!"

"Madam-mademoiselle…" Nadir stepped forward uncertainly. "It will take only moments. That is what he said. Erik… surely a few seconds behind a closed and locked door? We can close the window curtains… Only this man need see you – and just enough to be certain of your identity…"

Erik glanced at the window, backing away from the man who wanted to humiliate him … to force him into revealing his horrible face.

Everyone wants a look at The Living Corpse! He thought furiously. The fists at his sides tightened. Everyone wants to stare!

He couldn't reveal his face to the official! If he did, then the man would never allow him to marry Arabella! No one would let a monster like him marry such a sweet girl as Arabella! And Erik was fully aware that comparatively, Arabella was a child… Compared to him, at least. It wouldn't even matter that older men married younger women all the time!

"Erik …"

His spinning mind was brought to an abrupt halt by the softness of Arabella's voice. His eyes darted down to her concerned face, her hand still on his arm. He had not even noticed that she had not allowed him to pull out of her reach. Her face was full of such sincerity … such cold serenity.

"You do not have to do this." She insisted.

"No…" he repeated – although his voice came out much weaker. "I want to be your husband, Bella … truly your husband… I …" He glanced at the official. "There is no chance for you to … make an exception? I assure you, Monsieur … your reaction would only embarrass you!"

"I have a stronger spine than that, Sir." The man insisted, his face twisting in obvious sympathy. "Your friend is correct in suggesting we could close off the rest of the world. But there must be enough light for me to see you clearly – even if it is brief."

Erik looked down at Arabella again. She stood ever-so-patiently; waiting to see what his choice would be. There was no judgement whatsoever at the thought they might not carry through with the wedding.

She loves me enough to live in sin … likely enough to share a cage with me! How can I love her less? I couldn't let myself do that to her!

"I will do it…" he whispered. "Nadir … please…"

The Daroga instantly moved to lock the office door and pull the curtain – leaving it open just wide enough to let some light fall through. Arabella slipped her hand down Erik's arm until she could entangle her fingers with his and squeeze gently. In spite of her support and concern, Erik could see that his decision had made her eyes light up. Her skin nearly glowed with pride and love and happiness.

He turned as the official lit an oil lamp behind his desk to give him better light to see by. It was not all that much more than what was already available; but it still made Erik flinch briefly. He looked up at the man who held Erik's future in his hands.

"I will take my mask off for exactly eight seconds, Monsieur." He said firmly. "If this is not enough for you, then it will have to do … And if you try to run, or refuse to marry us, then I swear-"

"Erik!" Nadir snapped in warning, cutting his friend off.

The official merely nodded, as though Erik had said nothing threatening at all. Perhaps Nadir had cut him off quick enough so that the man did not take it for granted what was being implied.

Taking in a deep breath, Erik stepped closer to the desk. His shoulders were tense, his spine stiff, and his hand shaking as he lifted it to his mask. There was a long moment during which he tried to brace himself appropriately. The hand he still had entwined with Arabella's squeezed tightly – no doubt causing a rather large amount of pain. But she made no sound. She held his hand just as tightly in return.

Then he took the mask off, closing his eyes to avoid looking at this man who was probly turning pale and then green. It would not have surprised him in the least if the man fainted and fell to the floor. But there were merely eight seconds of silence – interrupted only by the soft sounds of the official scratching notes onto a piece of paper with a pen.

"Thank you, Monsieur Sauveterre." The official murmured.

Erik slipped his mask quickly back into place, his body going instantly watery so that he groped for the nearest chair. Arabella finally released his hand; but quickly took him by his upper arms as he sank into the cushioned seat with a quavering exhale that was loud enough to nearly echo around the room. Nadir opened the curtains once more, and the official across from him pulled open a drawer to bring out a small glass and a bottle of liquor.

Erik looked at the man through half opened eyes, watching as he poured a drink and then came around to offer it to him. His face was cramped slightly in concern or disgust; but he did not seem put-off enough to instantly make Erik bristle. He was too worn out by the unmasking to feel properly angry even if the man looked completely and utterly disgusted. The official had not fainted, not screamed, and not run. He had not crossed himself, or muttered even a single word to indicate a bad reaction to seeing Erik's face. And he was offering Erik a drink after going through such a dreaded moment!

Erik could respect that.

"Thank you…" he managed to murmur as he took the drink and downed it in one and a half swallows. A drop missed his mouth and he wiped at his lower lip with the back of his thumb. As he offered the glass back, he managed to turn his look of exhausted relief into a renewed hard glower. "You will marry us now?"

"Yes, Monsieur." The official assured. "I told you that I have no reason to refuse you."

He looked at Arabella – who stood behind Erik and to one side with her hands massaging the nape of his neck soothingly. He gave Erik a slow smile; eyebrows upraised.

"Lucky man…" he murmured. "Shall we begin?"

Nodding, Erik forced himself back onto feet that still trembled.

In only a few minutes, Erik was leaving the office with Arabella on his arm and a signed certificate in his hand. He paused briefly on the steps outside, holding it out to show Arabella and his friend.

"Monsieur Erik Sauveterre and Madame Arabella Sauveterre…" he read with a growing smile. He suddenly felt lighter than he ever had in his life. His almost stunned eyes turned down to Arabella's brilliant gaze. "I like the sound of it!"

It was completely unlike him, but with an exuberant laugh he turned to lift Arabella right up into an embrace. He spun her around once so that she grabbed at the veiled hat on her head to keep it in place. Both were laughing. He loved watching as she let her head fall back and her eyes closed in joyous abandon.

"It is official!" he continued as he finally put Arabella back down onto her feet without trying to kiss her. He might be feeling unusually open and happy … but he was not foolish enough to be that taboo out in public. Especially since he could never kiss her the way he wished to in public and while wearing his mask. "There is no getting away from me now, ma belle! Shall we go receive God's undoubtedly begrudging blessing as well, now?"

Arabella continued laughing as he turned without even waiting for an answer, all but dragging her along in his excitement with an arm about her waist. Considering they were clearly a small wedding party, he refused to look around and take in whatever disapproving glances they might be getting. No one could really begrudge a new husband and wife a little joy on the day of their union!

"Erik … the rings…" she protested weakly after they had hurried breathlessly towards the church. "The rings…"

"Nadir can hold them another five minutes." Erik reasoned. The giddiness had been building in him rather than passing; and he nearly dragged Arabella at a job towards the church. "Come!"

"I have never seen you like this!" Nadir laughed behind his friend.

"No one has!" Arabella replied over her shoulder with a laugh.

"And never will again!" Erik forewarned. "Ma belle … do you wish to pray to Sainte Marie first, or afterward?"

They rushed into the church; barely containing themselves enough to lower their laughter and quips to a low and reverent murmur. Arabella grew still for a moment, seeming to be breathless due more to the sight of the church than she had been from nearly running. Erik could see that the priest who would marry them in the sight of God was praying in front of the altar; two boys kneeling beside him.

"I thought it would be grander…" Arabella finally admitted – making Erik cover his mouth and clear his throat in order to hide further laughter.

"I suppose anything after the Opera House would seem a bit plain…" he admitted – trying to be kind. "But this building used to be a fortress, mira kom. I-"

He paused, watching as three people came out of a side chamber. Their heads were appropriately bowed out of reverence; and had obviously just finished praying. But what caught Erik's attention was their dress. It was appropriate for church – technically. But all the clothing was quite colorful.

Well … he knew where the statue of Sainte Marie was… The exiting trio was a group of gypsies who had surely come from the camp near his rented shack.

Arabella nodded to the trio as they passed by; but they kept their eyes averted. They seemed too worried about drawing too much attention to themselves. They did not even noticed how Arabella shared their somewhat dark coloring and a few other minor physical features. They just saw a strangely dressed quartet of gaje people.

"Monsieur Sauveterre?"

The priest had stood from his own prayers in front of the altar, and was looking at Erik and his entourage with a slightly stunned expression.

"Perhaps the prayers to Saintes Marie ought to wait…" Erik whispered to Arabella as he escorted her up the aisle. "He seems to have forgotten I was going to be wearing a mask … and he may not care for the Romany pilgrims…"

Arabella nodded soundlessly; accepting this decision without argument.

This time, he felt no ill ease. The priest would have no reason to demand that Erik unmask himself. The certificate Erik carried was more than enough proof of identity. Especially since the ink on it was still virtually wet! He was prepared to stand as long as it took to go through the mass as the priest required. Prepared to offer an "Amen" or and "I do".

He had never known such patience in his entire life. The mass was seemingly endless and dull – and he'd been right to assume the priest would have an appalling singing voice. Luckily, one of the boys had a rather astonishingly good soprano voice; particularly for a boy clearly in the middle of puberty.

When it came time to exchange rings, Erik turned to Nadir – who offered his specially made ring out so that Erik might place it on Arabella's finger. For a moment he held it between them, offering her the chance to see it clearly. He watched her closely; holding his breath and waiting to see whether or not it would please her.

Compared to her phoenix ring, it was quite simplistic. But it was still detailed and beautiful. It was a braided band, each braid made of yellow, white, and rose gold respectively. It was nothing more than that; except that the ring was so slim. Such small masterpieces always astounded Erik … and he knew he had chosen correctly when Arabella's eyes seemed to almost literally glow.

"I, Erik…" he all but whispered as he finally slipped the ring onto her right hand finger – echoing the priests' instructions. "…take you, Arabella, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you, and honor you, all the days of my life."

Darius murmured something briefly to Nadir where they stood in support of their friends. Arabella gave them a brief side scowl that was considerably unaffected due to the smirk she tried to suppress. After a moment she held a hand out to Nadir, and he dug out yet another ring from the package Darius had been holding for so long. Erik looked down to see her slip the ring onto his right hand finger; and he felt his eyes widen slightly.

It was hardly the kind of ring that he would have ever bought himself – or expected anyone to buy for their groom. He had been living so peacefully in a house with Arabella that he had almost forgotten she was Romany by birth. He certainly should have expected something … different. And this ring was! It was a beautiful ring of what looked like sterling silver, inlaid with what seemed to be a garnet and amber. It was not very intricate – but it was very, very different.

It was unique… just like them and their love.

He lifted his golden eyes to her caramel ones, and smile gently at her.

"I, Arabella, take you, Erik…"

Her voice was as hushed as his own had been. But he heard her repeat her vows loud and clear – with an ever-lightening heart.

This time … he did not care if he could not kiss her properly. When the priest invited him to, he reached out to stroke Arabella's cheek with his newly decorated hand … and leaned in to caress her lips with his own.