Gankutsuou Fan Fiction ❯ Sin of the Father ❯ Chapter 1 ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

By: arislan

Notes: Made up of 8 parts + epilogue. Written during Nov for NaNoWriMo 2005. Already complete; not a WIP. Further chapters will be added promptly as I go through and edit/check it. :)

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He wondered if the rain would ever stop. Thick droplets lashed viciously against the carriage's windows, heavy and rhythmic, like the steady beat of a thousand drums. It was only early afternoon, but with the amount of light which was managing to creep through the barrier of storm clouds, it could easily have been dusk. Albert de Morcerf was a patient man, though it had not always been so. The current weather meant that they had been making very little progress all day - but, for the moment, he knew that it did not really matter. Albert set aside the book he had been reading, and turned to peer outside the window for a moment. Through the sheets of water sluicing against the panes, he could vaguely make out some farmland and trees; evidently they were still in a very rural part of the country, so he supposed there was little chance of them finding somewhere to stop. He sighed, and returned to his book.

Perhaps inevitably, the past few years had changed Albert. He was no longer the same impulsive, reckless boy who wore his heart on his sleeve that he had been... before. He had studied, and read, and tried to better himself. He had learned introspection, and of the quiet solace that one can find in music and books.

But perhaps, he mused, as the carriage steadily wound its way through the French countryside towards Marseille, in many ways he was still exactly the same.

It wasn't until dawn broke the next day that the first hints of Marseille appeared upon the horizon. Albert awoke with a start and peered out of the window curiously, rubbing at his temples with the weary resignation of one who is used to this kind of travel. His fatigue was short lived, though; every trace of the previous day's storm had vanished, and in the distance he could see the large expanse of sparkling blue sea stretching out to meet with the sky.

"Camille!" Albert called, momentarily overjoyed. He reached out to fumble with the handle on the door, pushing it open as the carriage continued to trundle sedately along. Holding onto the sides firmly, Albert stepped out into the wind, the breeze whipping at his hair and shirt as he made his way along the side of the carriage to the front. He sat himself down beside his driver with a sigh of relief, leaning back and closing his eyes for a moment as he let the cool, refreshing sea wind wash over him.

"Er... Monsieur--"

"Look, Camille," Albert cracked open an eyelid and glanced over at his young driver, who could hardly have been more than five years younger than himself, "I've told you before: please, just call me Albert." This seemed to pain Camille, who blushed and deliberated for a moment before finally nodding. Albert sat up, at last fully awake: he gazed solemnly at the town in the distance, blue eyes filled with a conflicting mixture of anticipation, happiness, and sorrow.

It's been too long. He thought wistfully, shutting his eyes and inhaling the salty twang of the air. Far too long.

-----

The outskirts of the coastal town were tranquil at this early hour; the horses of Albert's carriage slowed to a casual canter, and whinnied in appreciation of the easy pace and fine weather. The roads they travelled down were not overly familiar to the young man - he had been here only once before, even though through his mother he felt like he should know it so much better. And perhaps in some ways he did - there was an imaginary Marseille in his mind, built on from a young age, inspired by the beautiful scenery that resided in the background of the portrait of his mother that he had once kept in his room. He'd walked those homely streets so often in his imagination; played on the beaches with his parents, as they'd picnicked and laughed in the warm sun.

But that had always been wishful thinking, and this was the reality: shabby streets, heavily cobbled. Shuttered houses and cracked walls, and a strange smell in the air. But as they rounded the corner of the Rue Montgrand, Albert felt is heart lift: with the sea now in view and the distant screeching of seagulls, Marseille came into its own. The chilly breeze made the multicoloured washing hanging on lines dance; the sounds of the breaking waves upon the coastal rocks were strangely soothing, and the rickety red rooftops which spattered the town seemed to glow in the bright sunlight as though they were on fire. This town, Albert decided, breathing deeply, was definitely one with character.

Memories stirred. "Turn up towards that hill," he said, trying to keep his voice light. Camille did as instructed, and they began the ascent. As they made their way up, Albert found he could look down on the town below them; the bustling harbour, the golden beaches, the town square. He preferred to keep his gaze down rather than look up at their destination, though he couldn't quite say why. His stomach felt strangely heavy, and he gazed wordlessly up into the clear blue sky until the carriage finally pulled to a stop.

"You didn't say, but..." Camille trailed off and half shrugged looking a little anxious. Albert forced a smile to his face and nodded, before leaping down from his impromptu seat to the grassy verge below.

"Thank you, this is the place. I'll probably be a couple of hours." He inclined his head at the thoughtful looking driver, and turned to face the small, winding footpath which led up and away from the outskirts of town.

Although the weather was fine, Albert now felt the cold more acutely than he had earlier; he wrapped his jacket tightly around himself and continued on against the wind. It was not long until a small, run-down church came into view. Albert couldn't help but freeze when he saw it; his mouth became dry and he swallowed with difficulty; his heart felt as though it were gripped by an icy hand. There were a few trees scattered around, but it was not a beautiful area. He took a step forward, and his breathing hitched slightly as several tombstones finally became apparent, nestled among the long grass. They were dark and mossy, and the sun which was beginning to move overhead highlighted their spidery cracks.

"Father..." he whispered, a solitary figure in the abandoned graveyard, silhouetted against the horizon. "C-count..." his voice faltered, and though he felt the pain in his heart acutely, he did not cry.

Later, he would not be able to remember how long it was that he stood there, motionless, staring at the row of graves. When he finally stirred, and moved to kneel beside them, though, the sun was nearly peaking in the sky. As it turned out, they were perhaps not as abandoned as he had previously thought; a small, neat bunch of white flowers lay at the foot of two of the headstones. Of course. Albert smiled, though his expression was full of sorrow. Mother�

"Father," Albert leaned forward, pressing his hands into the soft dirt, moisture from the ground soaking his trousers at the knee, "it's me. I've come back." The wind picked up speed, but Albert did not move. "I've been gone quite a long time. Travelling, mostly. Studying. Teaching myself things that I could never have learned if I'd stayed back in Paris. And... I couldn't. Couldn't have stayed there, I mean." He bowed his head, hair falling into his eyes, "not after everything..."

For a while, silence reigned, broken only by the occasional seagull, or gust of wind rustling the trees.

"It was probably cowardly of me, but, I did what I could. What I thought was best. I don't blame you, and I hope you know that." His mouth twisted suddenly and he stood up, eyes tightly shut, "but, Count..." 

He turned and faced another of the graves, the one which read: Edmond Dantés.

"I..." Albert's voice caught in his throat, and he buried his face in his hands, taking a deep breath, "I always wanted you to know... wanted you to know how much you meant to me. I truly believed in the friendship that we had, just as I truly believed in you. And... as much as I regret the way that things turned out, I'm still so honoured that you showed me your true self." He scrubbed at his eyes with his jacket sleeve, and smiled. "I went travelling, you know. All the things you told me; all the things you'd done - it made me admire you so much. I wanted to go to all those places for myself - and now I have - or, some of them, at least." He crouched down and placed his hands on the grassy earth before the headstone. 

"I wish..." he began, voice low, "I wish that Franz had been there with me; he would have adored it all. Sometimes I would still find myself turning around, expecting him to be there. But... I don't blame you for that. More than anyone," Albert said bitterly, "I blame myself. And Franz, too, for being so stupidly noble and selfishly self-sacrificing." He paused, for a moment then pain still as fresh and uncontrollable as that fateful birthday morning those years ago. "Every day, " he whispered "every day I still wake up and wish that he was here with me still. But I lost you both, and I blame myself."

Albert frowned, voice trailing off as he stood up. He felt empty inside; though the weather was calm and bright, he felt as though he had accomplished nothing. This felt pointless, somehow. And wrong, as though he shouldn't be here. He surveyed the lonely mounds in front of him one last time in farewell, before turning away resolutely.

"It'll all be okay one day, right, Count?" Albert murmured softly, as he walked out of the small graveyard, "as long as I make sure I wait... and hope..."

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Albert did not immediately return to his carriage; settling himself beneath a tree further down the slope, he paused to consider his current situation. What exactly was he here for? What was it that he hoped to achieve? His hunched shoulders were covered in dappled sunlight as he stared at the ground, biting his lower lip. If he was perfectly honest with himself, he didn't really know. However, the visit to the graveyard was not the only part of his trip; of course, he couldn't possibly come all the way to Marseille without dropping in on Maximilien and Valentine. Albert drew his knees up and hugged them to his chest, smiling softly. He had missed them, truly - and it had been so very long since they'd last met. It amused him that he found it so strange to imagine them married - as they surely must be - since Albert remembered them as awkward teenagers, when they were barely sure about whether it was appropriate for them to speak to one another.

He likes to think about those days; about the early parts of that summer, when everything still felt so normal. When it felt like they had all the time and opportunities in the world... before everything started to come crashing down. Of course, Albert thinks bitterly, at the time he never appreciated what he had; he was just another bored young aristocrat, desperate for some excitement or meaning in his life. Albert leans back against the weathered tree trunk and stares up at the sky; it's beginning to cloud over, and he knows he should probably go back soon. 

But he can't quite bring himself to leave just yet. Even though, in many ways, he can't help but wish that that fateful summer had never taken place, there's a part of him that would never want to give up the relationship he had forged with the Count. He frequently wonders, these days, what kind of person he'd be if the Count had never come into his life. After all---

"Monsieur..." Albert's reverie was interrupted by the quiet, concerned tones of Camille who hovered uncertainly in front of him, "are you quite alright?"

Albert blinked in surprise and gazed up at the driver, "of course... why wouldn't I be? Has something happened?" He glanced around quickly as if something urgent might suddenly appear, but Camille was shaking his head and looking embarrassed.

"No, no... it's just, you said you would only be gone for a couple of hours, so I was getting a little worried."

Albert looked down at his watch and blanched; it was now gone midday. "Ahh, I'm sorry - I completely lost track of time..." He stood up and stretched with a yawn, then dusted himself off. "I must look a mess," he said with a rueful smile, tugging at his crumpled jacket with one hand, and gesturing at his muddy trousers with the other, "how am I supposed to go and call on the Morrells looking like this?"

"Not to worry," Camille said noncommittally, expression blank, though his eyes looked amused, "you look as neat as usual." Albert laughed and stuck his hands in his pockets, before striding forward to head back to the carriage.

"Well," he said haughtily as they walked, eyes narrowed in mock seriousness, "I'd like to think I have a little more self respect than that! But," he sighed, "I suppose there's not much that can be done. It's hardly as though Maximilien and Valentine would mind, but still..."

"Have you known them long, then?" Camille asked curiously: he did not know much about Albert's past, since the other man rarely talked of it. "If you don't mind my asking, of course." Albert shook his head and looked at the approaching town. Somewhere down there, his friends would have been living happily for years; they would be settled, content. Have roots, and a real home with Monsieur Noirtier and the other Morrells, most likely.

"No, it's fine. I haven't seen them for over five years," he looked a little sad, and kicked a stone along the uneven path, "and I did not know Maximilien for very long - only a few months - though he came to be a good friend even in that short period. Valentine I have known longer - though for a while we did not talk very much; she was engaged to my best friend, and he... did not appreciate the arrangement. But we were all so happy when Maximilien and Valentine found each other." He grinned and gave a little shrug, "so it'll be nice to see them again."

"What about your best friend?" Camille inquired, jumping up into the front seat as they finally arrived back at the carriage, "did he manage to get an engagement he wanted?"

Albert froze, one foot on the step under the door. His hand clenched around the door handle, and when he spoke, his voice was low and quiet. "No. He didn't-- he didn't ever seem interested in getting married," his throat tightened and he choked out the rest, "but that doesn't even matter now, because he's dead." Camille looked stricken and mumbled an apology, while Albert disappeared inside the carriage and slammed the door.

The journey to the Morrells' house did not take very long; they wound their way through various streets, and even passed the busy harbour - but Albert found that he wasn't in the mood to marvel at it now. After about twenty minutes, they pulled up outside the large, weathered house which belonged to Maximilien and his family. Albert looked down at himself again and winced; what would they think of him? It looked as though he had been sleeping rough! Alas, there was nothing to be done. He swung open the door and leaped to the ground, inordinately glad that the weather was still holding out, even though the clouds did seem to be gathering ominously on the horizon once more. A storm in a harbour town like Marseille could be a vicious thing.

Albert approached the large oaken doors and took a deep breath, gazing up at the engraved stonework which surrounded the frame. He knew that he had no real reason to feel nervous, but that, mixed with the inevitable anticipation, made his stomach twist and turn. He raised a hand, and pressed the inconspicuous doorbell which resided in a small nook to the right of the huge doors.

Silence. He waited, shifting from foot to foot with his hands in his pockets, feeling like he was fifteen again. Eventually, just as he was considering ringing the bell again, he heard heavy footsteps approaching the door from inside, and muffled voices. With a painful creak, the heavy right half of the door swung open, to reveal an older - and definitely more distinguished-looking Maximilien.

"Albert!" Maximilien's face broke out into a grin - and though he was clearly surprised, the fact that he was genuinely pleased to see him was obvious. "Valentine, come through; Albert's here!" He gestured enthusiastically for Albert to come in, pausing for a moment as he noticed the carriage outside. "Of course - your driver knows to go around the back, yes? The other staff will see to him."

Albert nodded, and signalled for Camille to do as the ex-soldier had instructed. Entering the building, Maximilien grabbed his hand and shook it warmly, Albert smiling as he noted that Maximilien's grip was as strong as ever. The door swung shut with a solid 'click', and despite the door being so large and opaque, the entrance hall still managed to look light and airy.

"Maximilien; it's so good to see you again!" Albert said fervently, his grin widening as he noticed a familiar figure entering the hallway from the other end, "and Valentine!" His eyes widened in surprise as she hurried over - she was wearing large, light dresses these days it seemed, her stomach large and round. Albert's smile softened as she approached him and took his hands in hers; her skin was soft and warm, and she gazed at him happily.

"Albert, it's so lovely to have you here," she murmured, leading him away from the door. "Come, we must take tea, and talk."

Albert was led by the couple into a drawing room which was connected to the hallway via a thin, cool corridor. The room was not large, but still managed to give the impression being spacious; sparsely but tastefully furnished, with big windows draped in lace on the wall opposite the fireplace.

"Please, do take a seat," Valentine said gently, "I'll be back shortly." Albert nodded, and followed Maximilien to the armchairs arranged around a long, low table. One thing that did immediately strike Albert, though, was the silence. He had not imagined it to be so quiet in the Morrell house - where was Maximilien's niece and nephew? And, for that matter, where was Monsieur Noirtier? He was interrupted in his train of thought by Maximilien striking up a long overdue conversation.

"So, Albert - what have you been doing these past few years? We were beginning to wonder when we'd ever see you again - no one had heard from you in quite a while..." Albert laughed softly, a little embarrassed.

"I know, I know - it was awful of me, but I had a phase of being a little self-absorbed. I've been travelling, mostly - that and studying. I've just been trying to work out what I want to do with my life - decide where I want to end up," he sighed, smiling ruefully and resting his head on one hand, "I've missed everyone, you know. It got to a certain point, and I thought... I can't do this forever. I wanted to see you all again."

Maximilien chuckled, and nodded, "Yes. It's been a strange few years... everyone's become so fragmented. I haven't even seen Chateau-Renaud in about a year, but I suppose that's what's to be expected ever since most of us moved away from Paris."

"Mm." Albert tapped a finger thoughtfully against his chin, "I suppose so. You and Valentine seem so happy though; I'm glad."

Maximilien inclined his head and blushed a little, "thank you."

"Oh! And of course - congratulations," he grinned and raised an eyebrow, "so when's it due? And - for that matter - when did the two of you get married? I can't believe that I missed it." Albert's face fell a little after this realisation, and Maximilien looked regretful.

"I know, I'm sorry - we tried to get in contact with you, but no-one seemed to have your contact details at the time. Those addresses and numbers that we did try all turned out to be dead ends." He placed a hand on Albert's shoulder and smiled, "I know that you would have come if you could, though, Albert. It was only a quiet wedding, really - we have some photos somewhere if you'd like to see."

Albert nodded immediately, face brightening, "that would be great, thanks - of course, it won't come close to having actually been there, but it would still be nice." At that moment, the door on the far side of the room quietly swung open, and Valentine entered again, followed by a maid bearing a tray of tea things.

"I'm sorry, I hope I didn't keep you waiting long," she beamed at him, and Albert couldn't help but smile back - her evident happiness was infectious, and he spoke teasingly.

"Well, perhaps a little - but I'm sure we'll manage." She sighed in mock annoyance and sat down next to Maximilien, eyes sparkling with amusement.

Watching her sit next to her husband like that, Albert was surprised at how different she seemed - this was not the Valentine that they had all known so many years ago; the solemn, quiet girl, whose smiles had nearly always been sad. This Valentine laughed, her smiles full of joy, her contentment showing through in everything that she did. Sitting on the edge of the sofa like that, with the sun from the window streaming through into the room and catching her hair, Albert thought that she looked radiant. She sat with a straight back, hands resting protectively on her stomach - pregnancy had softened her slim features, and Albert thought the look suited her wonderfully.

"So, Albert," she began, reaching out to pour the tea, only to have her hands batted away by Maximilien, who seemed determined to do these things for her. She gave her husband an amused but loving look, and returned her attention to the other. "How long were you planning to stay? Of course we'll understand if you have something to attend to elsewhere -- but it's been so long since we've seen you, and we'd love for you to use one of the spare rooms for a while."

"That would be very kind of you," Albert said gratefully, "really, the reason I came to Marseille was to see you all, so I'd be honoured if you'd allow me to stay a little longer. Ahh, thank you," he accepted a cup of steaming tea from Maximilien, who also handed one to Valentine.

"It's been... quite lonely around the house for a while now," Maximilien said carefully, "so we'd be glad for you to stay as long as you need to."

Albert raised his eyebrows, shifting a little uncomfortably at the more solemn atmosphere that had fallen over the room following Maximilien's comment. "Lonely? I... I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry, but... has something happened?" he watched them in concern as Valentine's face transformed into one of sorrow. She reached out and clasped one of Maximilien's hands, remaining silent.

"It's been quite a difficult time for all of us, recently," Maximilien began, a grave expression coming over his features, "it pains me to say it, but six months ago, Monsieur Noirtier passed away." Albert saw Valentine's eyes fill up with tears, though none fell. She bit her lip, and kept her gaze downcast.

"I... I'm so sorry to hear that," Albert said softly, unpleasantly shocked by this information - it just seemed so wrong, somehow; it was true that Monsieur Noirtier had been old and ill, but he had still always seemed to have so much strength.

"Maximilien's relatives have gone, too," Valentine said in a low voice, "they... they said they just couldn't stay here any more." Albert looked at Maximilien, surprised. Valentine's behaviour seemed slightly odd too - he knew there could be no reason for it, but he would have said that Valentine sounded almost as though she felt guilty about it.

"They're... gone? Why?" Albert couldn't help but feel as though he was prying, even though it seemed like he would have to have found out sooner or later. Valentine stifled a dry sob, but looked at him directly, gaze strong.

"My father is living here with us now."