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Pietro
When Erik’s wife informs him that she is pregnant, he is stunned at first. So many thoughts run through his head—thoughts of surprise, nervousness, and… worry. But then she smiles that soft smile of hers and suddenly Erik can’t help but do the same. It hits him then: he is going to be a father.
He begins to picture himself months down the road, holding a baby in his arms. His baby. He wonders if it is going to be a boy or girl, if it will have Erik’s eyes or his wife’s. He wonders what other traits their baby might gain.
And it’s then he wonders… will his child be a mutant?
It’s a sudden but powerful thought, and despite the small feeling of shame at the notion, Erik silently hopes it will be.
And it’s months of stressing and fretting but the day finally comes. Erik sits beside his love, combing his hand through her soft hair and whispers any assurances he can.
And then it happens. In one feverish dream of a rush, a baby boy is placed in his arms and…
And Erik can’t breathe.
It’s as if all of the air has been sucked from his lungs, his heart racing as he takes in the sniffling child cradled against his chest.
He has the darkest eyes Erik has ever seen. His cheeks are rosy and there are wafts of auburn hair on his small head (and he can’t help the burst of pride and satisfaction he feels knowing his son has something that ties them together) and it’s then Erik is hit with a sudden realization. He doesn’t care if this baby is a mutant or not because this baby boy is his everything. He knows that without a shadow of a doubt he would let the world burn before anything or anyone ever lays hands on his precious son.
Tears began to spill from his eyes at the wonder of it all and he spies a small smile from his wife’s lips.
“What shall we name him?”
Erik pauses a moment, not wanting to move his gaze from the baby in his arms. But just as soon as he begins to think, a name appears so strongly in his mind. “Pietro.”
She smiles. “I like it.”
Erik hesitantly but oh so gently places a kiss on his son’s soft forehead, holding him close. “My Pietro.”
Nina
Erik meets Magda and at first thinks it’s all too good to be true. He thinks that it’s over for him, especially after what happened with Pietro and…
And the fire.
But despite his reluctance and heightened guard, Erik learns to love again. He falls in love with Magda’s laugh and her unwavering loyalty.
And then when he discovers Magda is pregnant… well.
Erik falls apart.
He knows Magda is disappointed. He doesn’t pretend not to see the miserable gazes she gives him ever since he first heard the news. But he can’t meet her excitement, not this time.
Because whenever he even begins to think about being a father again, all he can picture is Pietro. His Pietro, who he vowed to protect for eternity, only for the inevitable event of tragedy to strike and take away everything he’s ever loved.
Sometimes at night he wakes in a sweat, images of Pietro’s dark brown eyes and little smile flickering through his dreams. He cries for his loss but also in deep rooted fear. He doesn’t want what happened to Pietro to happen again—and it will. Erik knows this because that’s all he’s ever known. He remembers his mother’s cries and his wife’s screams when she burned in that fire—from when Pietro burned in that fire. He remembers the pain in Charles’ eyes from that fateful day in Cuba. And Erik just can’t do it again.
But then his little Nina is born, and Erik can’t help it. He can’t help but gaze into his daughter’s eyes and wonder selfishly that maybe this once, just this once, things can be different.
Because it’s only been seconds and he already loves this baby girl with his entire being. He sobs as he holds Nina close, his chest shaking as she nuzzles her small head into his shoulder and Erik can’t help but breath in a sigh of shaky relief and content, because Nina is his second chance.
Luna
Erik is almost in disbelief when he discovers that his son is alive. Because there is absolutely no way that this silver-haired speedster in front of him is… is his Pietro.
It couldn’t be possible. Because Pietro didn’t have silver hair.
But most importantly, this boy—this man —couldn’t be Pietro because Pietro died in a fire.
But he is. In some twisted kind of miracle, his son is alive.
“You’re… you’re all grown up,” Erik observes aloud after a much emotional confession and reunion. He takes in Peter—no, Pietro’s —eyes and it takes him back to that moment he first met him.
“I don’t know about that,” Pietro chuckles easily. Erik doesn’t miss the way his smile lights up, reminding him painfully of his late wife. Pietro clears his throat suddenly. “But… speaking being grown up, or whatever, I have something to tell you.”
Erik frowns, taking in his son’s sudden tenseness. “What is it?”
“You’re not just a dad, actually,” Pietro finally says and Erik raises an eyebrow in confusion. “You’re… a grandpa, too.”
Erik freezes, and for one small moment he wonders if this a little trick of Pietro’s, but then he knows his son—despite being ever the trickster—would never be so cruel.
“A grandpa,” Erik repeats, his voice hollow. “You mean…”
“I have a daughter,” Pietro confirms, scratching his head nervously. “I know it’s all kinda sudden and I swear I didn’t mean to burst this on you. I know you’re going through… a lot. But I’d really like to see her again and I thought… if you want to…”
“I have a granddaughter,” Erik whispers, feeling a pang in his chest as he does.
He has a granddaughter.
“Yep,” Pietro says slowly, his eyes inquisitive. “Is that okay? Are you okay?”
The pang in his chest grows, blossoming into a fond warmth he hasn’t felt in so long. “This is quite the surprise.”
“The good kind or the bad kind?” Pietro laughs quietly.
Erik can’t help but smile. “The good kind.”
So then Pietro takes him to his house, to which he informs Erik as his aunt’s and where he’s been staying ever since that day . He tells her about his ex-girlfriend, who he calls Crystal, and Erik can’t help the surge of anger and protectiveness that takes over him when Pietro tells him about her infidelity.
“So it’s just me and Luna now,” Pietro says with a confident ease. Erik feels a rush of affection at the reveal of his granddaughter’s name.
Before long they enter the house and Erik hears a loud cry, a cry that briefly takes him back to his Nina and her heartbreaking sobs, her soft eyes and the last breaths she took before—
His painful memories are suddenly disrupted when Pietro disappears in a flash, and then a few moments later, footsteps from downstairs.
Pietro emerges from the staircase with a bundle in his arms. He catches his father’s gaze with a grin. “I don’t go super-speed with this one. Don’t really know how that’ll go.” He chuckles softly.
Pietro gently shushes the baby in his arms and within a few moments, the crying subsides to small coos and whimpers that make Erik’s heart clench.
Pietro finally looks up. “Do you want to hold her?”
Erik feels a sudden, familiar nervousness beat in his chest but he nods against his will. “May I?”
His son gives him an assuring smile and carefully places his daughter in Erik’s arms.
Erik expects to feel the same thing as the last two babies he’s held, with the rushes of overwhelming but instantaneous emotion.
But this time it’s different. Because this time he’s not looking at his child. It dawns on him immediately: this is Pietro’s daughter. And already she reminds him so much of his son—with her wide nose and plump cheeks. She has that same glow in her eyes that Pietro had when he first held him—and although this darling child has no close relation to his Nina, he feels a familiar ache as he holds her in his arms.
Erik looks over to see Pietro studying them with such affection and pride and that’s what finally does it for him.
Tears slip down his cheeks involuntarily as he looks back down at his granddaughter—he’s a grandfather now—and feels Pietro place a hand on his shoulder as he gazes at his daughter.
“Meet Luna,” he whispers. “Luna Maximoff—”
Pietro pauses for a moment, almost as if unsure, before a newfound confidence dawns on him as he makes unwavering eye contact with Erik.
“Luna Maximoff-Lehnsherr,” he finishes.
Erik feels a glow of warmth in his heart then, and his voice is uncharacteristically shaky when he finally speaks. “She’s beautiful,” he tells Pietro. “I am so, so very proud of you, my son.”
Pietro softens at the admission, his eyes glassy as he leans into his father’s side.
And for the first time in a while, holding his granddaughter in his arms and his son—his Pietro—at his side, Erik feels complete and utter peace.