The Universe's Mixer

The garden had seemed the finest place to stage his wedding. It would have been far more proper to wed his bride in a cathedral, and Erik could not deny that she deserved as much. But neither could he bring himself to set foot inside another church again. The Roman Catholic God, if he dared to exist, had cursed him for all his 38 years with a face that all of humanity hated. No, Erik could not bring himself within 10 feet of a church, except to admire its architecture. And never, ever for a religious occasion. None of these things had he expressed to his Christine.

But a proper Roman Catholic wedding mass his wife would have, and he had seen to that much. Every detail was in its proper place - up to the small choir and piano and orchestral backing, all managed discretely through the church from which he'd drawn the services of the priest himself. Erik expected the mass to be an arduous affair, with only the music to save him... but as the liturgy came to a close, Erik could only find himself thinking how wrong it was that Christine consent to such a union - and how selfish it was for him to allow her. No. More than selfish. He would never allow her to be free of him ever again. It still baffled him that she seemed perfectly amenable to these chains.

Under the mid-morning sunshine, Erik's skin seemed paler than usual. His recent recuperation had left the composer thinner than usual, but the cut of his tuxedo concealed it. It was possible, however, that the paleness of his skin had nothing to do with his recent illness. The priest's voice cut into his thoughts, then, and Erik swallowed.

"---by a special sacrament so that you may assume the duties of marriage in mutual and lasting fidelity. And so, in the presence of the Church, I ask you to state your intentions.

"Erik and Christine, have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?"