Work Text:
"Are you going to love her more than me?" The question comes out of the blue, late the same night his second child, a daughter, is born.
He and Gustave are in the sitting room in front of a roaring fireplace, Christine resting with the newborn only a few doors down, but too far away to help him with an answer.
He's been a father for a little more than a year and he's still learning to navigate the tumultuous waters of the ocean that is being a parent. For a moment panic seizes him, but then he recognizes in the boy's look something that he has lived firsthand for a very long time. A deep-seated uncertainty about feelings and how to handle them.
He'd very much like to punch the Vicomte in the face for instilling that in the boy in the first place.
"Oh, son… For the longest time I believed I was destined not to love or to be loved. When I first fell in love with your mother, I didn’t know how to behave and I did rather poorly. I was selfish and afraid and wanted all of her love for myself." He sighs. "Your mother taught me love has no limits, it doesn't come in fixed quantities that need to be portioned out. You feel it grow inside your heart and giving it away does not ever diminish it. Your sister will just need a little more care and attention now because she's so little. That is all."
Gustave rises from the floor where he's sitting and moves onto the couch near him, leans into him.
He continues. "I began loving you the moment I knew you were my son and I will never stop. You are the greatest gift life has given me. How could my love for you ever grow dim?"
He sees Gustave's face - his son’s face - light up and feels his arms close around his chest.
"I love you, Papa."
Erik enfolds him in a clumsy, yet heartfelt one-armed embrace. His heart, already impossibly full, sweetly aches and fills even more.