Fic: Father & Son
Pairing: None
Characters: Juste Belmont, Simon Belmont, Richter (age 2)
Rating: PG
Warning: None
Beta: xvenalx
Disclaimers: All characters belong to Konami. This Writing is purely fictional and no profit is intended nor obtained for this fanfiction piece.
Summary: Juste contemplates the future of his little son, Richter.
Author's note:
Not sure if Juste was indeed Richter's father on the official CV timeline. But for the purpose of this fic and the upcoming ones (hopefully), I'll have Juste be featured as Richter's father. Which I think is a bit appropriate and they do sure look like each other, anyway. XD
I tried to incorporate the CV timeline as close as possible. Since I really have no idea when Richter's exact birthday is scratches head, I'll just assumed that he's born on the year 1773 just 19 years before the onset of CV Dracula X.
Father & Son
(October 1774, Sunday morning: 9am)
At the garden of the modest Belmont Estate, located north-east of Wallachia, Juste Belmont silently sipped his wine. It was a rather cool Sunday morning, just perfect after the nearly endless rain from the previous days.
It was nice to be out and feel the sunlight again. He smiled when he saw his two-year old son prancing around the garden. Richter had been agitated, being trapped indoors during the rains, and, typical of a child with his boundless energy, he'd managed to break a few vases running around the house.
Juste winced at that thought. As much he wanted to contain Richter's enthusiasm, he refused to discipline his child into submission. Usually, he would reprimand Richter verbally, telling him how upset he was that he'd not behaved properly. Sometimes Richter would listen, but when he was restless, it was necessary to send him to his room as punishment.
He never used the "stick" on Richter, unlike other fathers. He just didn't have the heart to hurt his son; it was painful enough that Richter had lost his mother at a young age. That was one of the main reasons why he was so involved in raising Richter, as the only parent he wanted very much to be with his son and he knew that being a Belmont posed many challenges – few of their clan lived into old age after fighting the forces of evil.
Although most survived their brush with darkness, the injuries they got from their battles halted their longevity. Juste could recall his late grandfather, Simon, dying just three years short of his 60th birthday. His battle wounds had bothered him as he grew older, but Simon was a brave man, father and grandfather and had never told his family of the constant pains that bothered him, trying to keep it to himself.
Juste wondered if he would ever see Richter grow up into a man and have a family of his own someday. Deep in his heart, he sincerely wished that he would.
(Flashback)
"He'll break many hearts someday," Simon quipped to Juste as he cradled the week-old baby Richter in his arms. His warrior's build had not diminished, even with age, and he beamed proudly at Juste.
Juste sighed at his grandfather, how typical of him to be critical of everything. "Grandfather, he's only a baby. How can you tell what he'll be when he grows up?"
Simon chuckled heartily at his reaction, "I need not to guess what he'll be, it shows on him even though he is still small. See here," Simon gently swiped away the curly brown hair from the baby's forehead, "He's got his mother's hair, and his features are distinctively Belmont, most especially his eyes, they're the clearest blue I've ever seen."
Simon paused. "It may come as both a blessing and a curse, it will draw many to him and will set him apart from the rest." Simon sighed. "The fact that he's a Belmont will not make it easier."
Juste frowned at Simon's cryptic words. "Grandfather, what are you saying?"
With that question, Simon shifted his gaze from the baby's sleeping face and looked straight into Juste's confused eyes. "Your son will be sorely tested. When he comes of age, the evil we fought will be ten times stronger than what we had faced previously. Then again, Richter may be the most powerful Belmont that ever lived. I can feel his power even as I hold him, it's still dormant but when it awakens, it will awe everyone – including him."
Simon continued, "I fear that if Richter fails and if his defenses are weak, the enemy will surely take advantage of him. Not only the Count, but also the people who continually fear and hound us."
Juste tightened his jaw; his Grandfather had just voiced a warning, his son would surely soon become a target and that was a fact that he, as a father, had to face. The same evil they had fought would be drawn to Richter and he would not be able to run away from his destiny as a Belmont.
As loyal as he was to his family, Juste had felt the need to settle and live a normal life... which was wishful thinking. Not unless the evil Count Dracula was truly vanquished, would Juste's hopes of having a normal life be more than a dream. Yet, as long he lived, he would make sure his son would be loved, cared for and protected.
Speaking of which, his son had vanished from sight a few moments ago. Richter was just tumbling around. Where had his mischief-maker gone to?
"Richter?" Juste anxiously called. He stood from his comfortable garden chair and went to search for the boy. "Richter, where are you?"
Juste sighed in relief when he saw his son sitting in front of a bush, his small, chubby hands cupping his chin, blue eyes fixed on the bush in front of him.
Juste frowned when suddenly a small, brown rabbit sprang up from the bush, startling Richter, who yelped in surprised as the rabbit ran past him. His small hands failed to catch the rabbit as it leaped away.
But Richter was persistent and had risen from his seating position to give chase when Juste called out to him, "Richter!"
"But Papa, the rabbit ran away. I have to catch him."
Juste shook his head. "That would not be wise son, the rabbit had already run off and there's no chance you can catch it. Get back here, you need to bathe and it's almost lunchtime."
Richter pouted at that statement, but relented as he didn't want to be punished and made to stay in his room all day. He wanted to play outside and enjoy the sunlight as much as he could.
Richter ran into his father's waiting arms, giggling in delight when he was lifted from the ground. "Papa, you promised you'll take me riding today, didn't you?" he asked Juste eagerly.
Juste smiled fondly, gazing at the silky, brown curls that framed his son's chubby face. Just like his mother,he thought sadly. Richter had inherited his brown locks from Juste's late-beloved wife and they enhanced his already fair features. "Yes I do, young man, but not until you get your bath, your lunch and your nap."
Juste smiled proudly to himself, while other children would usually wail when they failed to get their catch, Richter would quickly recover from his surprise and ready himself to make a counter move. He had never cried nor thrown a tantrum.
He'll be a fine warrior someday, Juste silently and sadly pondered.
Richter pouted again when he heard the word 'nap'; he hated naps, he was a grown boy now – only babies took naps. But when his father spoke about their afternoon ride, he felt happy again. He had always wanted to ride his father's white stallion, Aranthor, and couldn't wait to grow up and have a horse of his own, just like his father.
With that thought in mind, Richter clung to Juste as he was led inside the house.
Owari.