I reached out and touched the face of the person staring at me.
"Christine." I murmured and began playing with her long, brown hair. She stood silently, tears running down her cheeks. I stood up and hesitated a moment before wrapping my arms around her and burying my face in her hair. "Oh Christine. God have I missed you!" She lingered in my arms a moment and then pushed me away.
"You have a funny way of showing it Erik!" she declared with a hint of anger in her voice.
"What?" I asked slightly taken aback by her mood.
"You pretended to die Erik! Did you get tired of me?! Or had you planned it all along; satisfy your lust then turn me away! You lying bastard!" she screamed.
"Christine no. Please listen to me. I-"
"And Raoul has been raising your son!" she shrieked and pointed at me. I stared at her stunned for a moment.
"Christian is-"
"Your son," she finished for me. I laughed bitterly. It couldn't be. I had been there when the child was born. He looked just like Raoul. He had light hair and the bluest eyes I had ever seen.
"Christine, you must be mistaken. It's not possible. I saw Christian when he was born. He-thankfully- looks nothing like me. He looks like the Vicomte," I said knowing she would have to listen to reason.
"How many times have you seen Christian since he was born?" she asked.
"I stopped coming when he was about two. But you can't possibly say he looks even remotely like me," I argued.
"He looks just like you Erik," she told me.
"Poor boy," I muttered. "I don't see how though. His hair was very light, blonde if you ask me, and he had blue eyes. I have black hair and gold eyes if you haven't noticed. Not to mention my least flattering feature. He looks like his father."
"Yes, he does look like his father, and that's you," she stated. "He looks so much different now than when he was a baby. His hair is as black as yours now and his eyes used to be brown with flecks of gold. Now they're completely gold."
I opened my mouth to argue, could think of nothing to say, and closed it again. It made sense. The timing was right, and most babies are born with blue eyes anyway. Part of me was thrilled. I was a father. Another part of me however was convinced there was a mistake.
"Christine, are you absolutely sure that Christian is my son?" I asked, knowing, happily waiting for, yet dreading the answer all at once.
"Yes Erik," she replied so confidently that I had to believe her. I cleared my throat.
"Very well then. I wish to meet him," I stated. Now it was Christine's turn to be shocked.
"What?!" she cried.
"You heard me. I want to meet my son. Fifteen years is quite long enough to let that pitiful excuse for a human being poison my son's mind," I growled.
"Oh, but Erik, Raoul is the only father Christian has ever known. Don't take him away from Raoul. He wouldn't understand," she begged.
"Did you think I was going to tell Christian that I am his father?" I asked. I laughed bitterly. "God forbid that he ever finds out. I merely wish to be more of a.mentor to my son." Christine sighed heavily. I knew she was going to give in.
"Fine Erik," she said. I smiled deviously. She noticed and looked at me seriously. "I don't want you teaching him anything dangerous. My smile faded.
"What, in your opinion, is 'dangerous'?" I asked.
"Anything you consider fun or highly amusing," she stated.
"Come now Christine. Not everything I find amusing is dangerous," I said.
"Well then. use your best judgment," she replied.
"I will. Don't worry." I kissed the top of her head and looked into her eyes. "Bring Christian here tomorrow. Let him wander freely; the managers will not care. I will alert them of his coming and that he is to be left alone. You need not stay. I'll take care of everything. He will return to your chateau on his own after I have met him," I told her.
She agreed and left after a quick kiss goodbye. The rest of the night, I found myself wondering what my son would be like. Thoughts of him were in my mind as I drifted to sleep.
"Christine." I murmured and began playing with her long, brown hair. She stood silently, tears running down her cheeks. I stood up and hesitated a moment before wrapping my arms around her and burying my face in her hair. "Oh Christine. God have I missed you!" She lingered in my arms a moment and then pushed me away.
"You have a funny way of showing it Erik!" she declared with a hint of anger in her voice.
"What?" I asked slightly taken aback by her mood.
"You pretended to die Erik! Did you get tired of me?! Or had you planned it all along; satisfy your lust then turn me away! You lying bastard!" she screamed.
"Christine no. Please listen to me. I-"
"And Raoul has been raising your son!" she shrieked and pointed at me. I stared at her stunned for a moment.
"Christian is-"
"Your son," she finished for me. I laughed bitterly. It couldn't be. I had been there when the child was born. He looked just like Raoul. He had light hair and the bluest eyes I had ever seen.
"Christine, you must be mistaken. It's not possible. I saw Christian when he was born. He-thankfully- looks nothing like me. He looks like the Vicomte," I said knowing she would have to listen to reason.
"How many times have you seen Christian since he was born?" she asked.
"I stopped coming when he was about two. But you can't possibly say he looks even remotely like me," I argued.
"He looks just like you Erik," she told me.
"Poor boy," I muttered. "I don't see how though. His hair was very light, blonde if you ask me, and he had blue eyes. I have black hair and gold eyes if you haven't noticed. Not to mention my least flattering feature. He looks like his father."
"Yes, he does look like his father, and that's you," she stated. "He looks so much different now than when he was a baby. His hair is as black as yours now and his eyes used to be brown with flecks of gold. Now they're completely gold."
I opened my mouth to argue, could think of nothing to say, and closed it again. It made sense. The timing was right, and most babies are born with blue eyes anyway. Part of me was thrilled. I was a father. Another part of me however was convinced there was a mistake.
"Christine, are you absolutely sure that Christian is my son?" I asked, knowing, happily waiting for, yet dreading the answer all at once.
"Yes Erik," she replied so confidently that I had to believe her. I cleared my throat.
"Very well then. I wish to meet him," I stated. Now it was Christine's turn to be shocked.
"What?!" she cried.
"You heard me. I want to meet my son. Fifteen years is quite long enough to let that pitiful excuse for a human being poison my son's mind," I growled.
"Oh, but Erik, Raoul is the only father Christian has ever known. Don't take him away from Raoul. He wouldn't understand," she begged.
"Did you think I was going to tell Christian that I am his father?" I asked. I laughed bitterly. "God forbid that he ever finds out. I merely wish to be more of a.mentor to my son." Christine sighed heavily. I knew she was going to give in.
"Fine Erik," she said. I smiled deviously. She noticed and looked at me seriously. "I don't want you teaching him anything dangerous. My smile faded.
"What, in your opinion, is 'dangerous'?" I asked.
"Anything you consider fun or highly amusing," she stated.
"Come now Christine. Not everything I find amusing is dangerous," I said.
"Well then. use your best judgment," she replied.
"I will. Don't worry." I kissed the top of her head and looked into her eyes. "Bring Christian here tomorrow. Let him wander freely; the managers will not care. I will alert them of his coming and that he is to be left alone. You need not stay. I'll take care of everything. He will return to your chateau on his own after I have met him," I told her.
She agreed and left after a quick kiss goodbye. The rest of the night, I found myself wondering what my son would be like. Thoughts of him were in my mind as I drifted to sleep.