Author's Note:
Dear Readers,
So, this short story has been in the making for some time now. I've worked off and on on it for several months and considered different plot lines and so on. I really just wanted to write a fanfiction story only about Giovanni and Erik and their relationship.
I probably shouldn't call this a Father's Day fanfic but, I'm going to because it was Father's Day and thinking about my own father that got me back into this story. So, allow me to present you with, Wandering Son, the story of how Giovanni and Erik patched up their relationship.
Don't expect any romance. There is a possible love interest and I do hint a little here and there but you're left to imagine what happens to them. This is about a father and son.
sarahandmarquis
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Chapter 1
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Giovanni
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I am an old man now. Quite old. My eighty years are ancient for those of my craft. Rarely do masons live past sixty once the dust settles in their lungs and clogs them up. My chest does rattle like a box of tools but I am still surprisingly strong. Perhaps it is because I stopped younger than most and simply designed instead of working the stone.
So, here I sit, on the balcony of my house, the balcony I never fixed, ancient and alone, lost in the memories of so many years previous. My eyes and my mind are perfectly healthy and I cannot forget a single moment of that terrible night.
The night I should have done so many things differently.
The night I lost my only son and my most treasured daughter.
I shudder for a moment and a tear slips down my weathered cheek as I remember the gangly boy, the little deformed genius I know I shall not see again this side of death. After our bad parting, he will not return and for all my seeking, I have failed to find him. So, I sit. And I think. And I dream of what might have happened had I been a better father to that lonely boy.
He was a peculiar lad, masked and quiet, nervous and scared of me at first. I knew he was a thief and probably worse. I tried not to think of my young apprentice as a murderer though I had seen the mark of the devil upon his forehead. Once he had even told me, I lied you to you when I said I was not apprenticed. I am already sworn to a master.
His own words confirmed it but I had let it slide. I had decided to ignore it, to let him live with me and hope and pray that he might become more.
Of course, I had ruined it all.
A rumor had been started some days after his first arrival on the building sights that he was my "wood's colt" and that was the reason I sheltered him. To this day, I know Erik is no blood son of mine. While in my younger years I might have been a little wild, I had reformed long before his birth. No, Erik isn't my son by birth but he is and always will be my son by heart.
I loved and do still love that boy as much as any child I ever fathered with my wife.
As I sit and contemplate my sins, my heart turns to Luciana, my favorite daughter whose death I was solely to blame. While my son is out in the world at this moment, no doubt blaming himself for her broken body, I do not lay any blame at his feet. He was innocent of her blood.
More tears trickle down my cheeks as I hear the nurse my eldest daughter hired to care for me approach. I do not need her constant attention but I am grateful at times for her company. She is a sweet thing, quiet and unassuming. Her name is Christabella and I love her like a daughter as well. Perhaps she is Luciana's replacement in my heart. I cannot be sure.
"Signor Giovanni, I have fixed you some supper. It is getting late and cold. Why don't you come inside to the fire?" I look up to her pretty face and smile softly at her sweet face before holding out my hand which she takes and helps me to my feet.
"Thank you, Christabella."
"You're welcome, Signor." She replies in her lovely way as I drape an arm around her shoulders for support. For such a small girl, she is quite strong.
"You are dressed up this evening. Planning an outing?" I inquired, noting the prettier dress and the hints of makeup on her cheeks.
"Yes, back to the traveling fair I went to yesterday evening. I would have told you about it today but Angela visited." She responds, giving me a kindly smile, holding my arm tightly to help me into the dining room.
"Then tell me about it." I encourage her as she helps me into my chair at the table and sets my plate before me.
"He made flowers sing! And, things disappear. And, he even cut a woman in half but she was unharmed! He played the violin so beautifully! It was like listening to an angel from heaven." The nurse fusses around me as she talks, making sure I need nothing else before fetching herself her own plate.
"Singing flowers, you say? That certainly Is unusual."
"Oh! Unusual and beautiful!" The girl exclaims, obviously remembering the show with great fondness. "I was honored to be able to speak with him right after the show and he is such an odd man. He wore a mask and dressed in black for the whole duration but the mask didn't leave once most have filed out. He was quite handsome. Tall with black hair." A blush stains her pretty cheeks and I chuckle at her modesty.
"You found him pleasant to the eye, I see." I brush away her comment about his attire and instead take delight in some simple teasing.
"Yes, I did. But, I have no need for handsome men in my life right now." After finishing her meal, she leans forward and kisses my cheek. "I have you to care for, Signor." With a short curtsy, she steps back. "I have a few tasks to complete. I shall return soon to fetch the dishes." With a light step, she dances away, a few strands of her black hair dancing over her shoulders.
I smile a little to myself before picking up my spoon and taking a sip of the delicious broth she had prepared. The girl is quite a cook. One day, she will make a young man very happy. I eat the broth and the bread slowly, savoring the taste while I lapse back into memories. There were nice days between Erik and myself. We would sit by the fire at night and talk or listen to the fire crackle and pop. He would finish with the books and then cautiously sit in an arm chair near mine.
I drop the spoon as my hands shake so I can't hold it any more. shaking my head, I pull myself to my feet and begin to walk towards my bedroom to lie down. I am old and with it comes exhaustion from having lived longer than one's average allotted seventy-five years.
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Erik
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The final round is given and my audience begins to file out of the black tent. I pay little mind to any of them, merely turning around to put away my props. My lilies will need watering soon and a possible thinning. Maybe I can find a young maid who shan't mind some flowers appearing in her yard.
As I put away my violin, I hear a soft clearing of the throat and turn to see the girl from the evening before, standing with her hands folded neatly on her skirts. Her brown eyes look up at me with admiration and a pretty little smile teases her mouth. I arch an eyebrow beneath my white mask and look away from her. She will address me if she wishes to speak.
"Signor Magician, last evening I promised you I would bring my patient with me." I nod without a glance her way. I hear her shift slightly; no doubt my ignoring is unsettling her. "I am sorry but he wasn't feeling well today. How long will you be in the area?" At this, I peer around the edges of my mask at her wide eyes.
"One week from this evening." I reply shortly before packing away the other odd objects I keep around for my shows. I used to, in my youth, show my face as a part of the attraction but I long since ceased that habit. I am tired of prostituting my body was well as my talents to people who know nothing for money that would only buy comforts for my loathsome carcass.
"Thank you, Signor Magician." She curtsies to me before turning around to leave, her step hesitant. In certain ways she reminds me of a child, her eyes innocent and face childlike. Yet, there is no doubting she is a woman in form and courage. Who else would find it in themselves to address a masked freak of nature?
"Signor," she pauses and turns around to face me. "How do you make the lilies sing?" I vacillate for a short moment whether or not to tell my secret, but, then I decide she likely curious and wants nothing more.
"Come here." I call to her and set the pot of lilies on a small stool before kneeling beside them. The girl copies me, her eagerness to learn visible in every motion as she focuses on me and the lilies simultaneously. I am silent for a moment before speaking again,
"I am a ventriloquist. I project my voice." Moments later, the lilies appear as if they were singing an old Italian ballad I had learned during my last visit to the country. The girl touches the flowers with such reverence and I purposefully cause my voice to falter when her finger caresses the pedals. She jumps back and giggles a little before looking up at me and beginning to hum along with the tune.
Her voice is pretty yet untrained. I believe without realizing it, she begins to sing softly along with the tune, her tongue curling around the Italian words without faltering and her lungs providing solid support to her voice. When the tune finally fades from the lilies, she glances up at me, her tan cheeks stained with a bright blush.
"I'm sorry! That's always been one of my favorite songs." She stands to her feet and brushes the dust off of her gold skirt. I don't respond. I simply nod my head and rise to my feet as well, taking the lilies with me. The girl again moves to leave but hesitates. I don't understand so I ignore.
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Giovanni
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"Was it a nice show?" I ask Christabella as she sits in her chair by the fireplace. Her brown eyes look up at me as she smiles.
"Yes, it was. I spoke to the magician again. He told me how he makes the flowers sing. Ventriloquism." The girl's wistful gaze gives me insight into where her mind is going. Whatever this tricks magician has in his repertoire, one is the attracting of young women.
"I am sorry that I was unable to go this evening but my bones were not agreeable to an outing even to see your magician." The girl blushes slightly, ducking her eyes from my face, and sets her crocheting down her lap.
"He's not mine. He leaves tomorrow week and I probably won't see him again. But, he fascinates me. Something about those sulfur eyes and white mask." She laughs a little and stands up. "I must wash the dishes. Please call for me when you are ready to rest." With a brush of her lips against my forehead, she breezes from the room and I am left to the thoughts.
The arrival of a circus wasn't so unusual in Rome. And, it is perfectly normal for there to be in the company a magician. Some old man or some odd person who will draw in crowds of the bold and curious.
Yet, for him to be masked with yellow eyes is certainly unique. Tomorrow I will make it to the show.
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ALERT TO ALL FANS WANTING AU FANFIC IDEAS
I just wanted to add this in here because I know that to find the best fanfiction writers you come here. And, the writers on here have produced some of the finest AU fanfictions that I've ever read. Now, I pride myself on being good at weird ideas (not so good at writing them though) and, I don't have near enough time to turn all the stories into the books.
So, I have changed my tumblr account into a writing prompt account. Search for "sarahlet2999" on Tumblr and you will find a completely black and red account titled "Phantom-is-life" and you can see all my Phantom of the Opera and Labyrinth prompts! I want to share my ideas with the world and, I trust the writers of FF will be able to do them justice.