Life Lessons
Summary: Francis Bonnefoy had everything. A grand mansion, servants that heed his every command and a loving son. But greed got the better of him as he asked for the rumored golden touch. King Midas and the golden touch context.
A.N. This story just came out of the blue. When my dad was blabbering on and on about past events that seemed amusing to him, I remembered rereading a particular picture book over and over again. And that was King Midas and the golden touch. And since I adore Fatherly Francis and young Canada, I decided to write a fanfic with the two different sentiments. I tweaked the story a little because I felt like it =3= So please enjoy!
Warnings: ( I don't think there are any...since this will stay as Rated K+)
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia (that includes the awesome characters) or the story about King Midas. I just write to entertain myself =3= And to calm the idea bunnies, my fan girl fantasies and to prevent myself from doing nothing.
Chapter 1:
Francis took a sip from the fine china tea cup as he watched his son with a smile. Matthew strolled around the rose garden, peering at the different trees scattered in the garden. He watched the birds, who were taking their morning bath, with wide, curious cerulean eyes. He was silently observing their every move, trying to figure out how they chirp while splashing themselves with water. He knew it was humanely impossible after trying it a few times.
Francis found the sight amusing. He decided to wait for another minute or so before calling his precious son to come. Francis stretched his shoulders, earning a good crack from his joints. His eyes wandered around the place. A vast estate with it's own winery, a green house with an array of plant species and the most beautiful rose garden in the whole kingdom.
Hard work does pay off. Francis thought as his eyes landed on his son. Though not blood related, Francis loved his son like his own and will always be ready to sacrifice much of his assets, even his life, for him to stay as the very energetic and smiling young boy Francis raised carefully throughout the years.
Francis glanced at his watch. Play time is over. It was time for Matthew to eat his breakfast. "Matthieu, leave the birds alone and come eat your breakfast." Francis called out with a heavy French accent.
He chuckled at the pout forming on the little boys lips as the birds flew away from the bird bath. Slowly, Matthew stomps his way towards his father, clearly frustrated at the older man's action. "Oui, I'm coming."
Matthew takes the seat across his father's, still pouting. He looks down at his plate. Two pieces of toast with butter smeared on each of the piece, bacon and eggs filled his plate. A cup of milk was placed at the top right and a plate of pancakes at his left. His mood lightened a little at the sight of the fluffy pancakes stacked in a neat pile which was accompanied with a bottle of maple syrup from Canada.
Noticing the little boy's attention shift to the pancakes, Francis clears his throat to get his attention. "Remember the rules Matthieu. Only after you finish eating your breakfast are you allowed to devour the pancakes." Francis reminded him softly, quite proud of him as he retracted back his fork.
"Self-restraint?"
Francis nodded "Self-restraint." He saw the younger nod curtly as he starts to slice up the food into strips before putting it in his mouth. Francis beamed proudly. He had remembered his father's lesson on proper etiquette. Do not talk with your mouth, do not put your elbows on the table while eating where only the basic and most common rules of the book. The French man didn't need to remind Matthew about those. But when he started to teach him about French etiquette, the young child seemed confused at first since he was used to the common way of eating which was as long as it fits in your mouth don't bother cutting it up into bits of pieces.
Francis thanked whichever god that granted his wish. He didn't want to go through teaching the child again. Matthew was never a stubborn kid but during that period of forcing those lessons inside his brain, he showed signs of defiance towards the older man. He skipped his meals whenever the other was away for business and refused to eat anything except pancakes. He refused to do a lot of things with the older man during that period of hell.
"Papa? Are you alright?" Matthew asked, snapping the other from his stupor.
Francis blinked twice before smiling at him. "I'm alright, dear Matthieu." He reached over to ruffle the child's blonde locks which where exactly the same as his but only a bit darker. The young child smiled at the affection, feigning annoyance.
He tries to swat the hand away but to no avail as the hand continues to mess up his hair even further. "S'il vous plaît arrêtez, papa." The boy giggled as his father refused to stop.
"Pas du tout." Francis teased, smirking at the boy.
As Francis pauses to give the boy time to breath, a sound of glass breaking was heard. Francis eyes widen in alert while Matthew cringed. Francis stands up from his seat, tells the boy to stay and briskly walks towards the main hall. There seemed to be a crowd gathering around the center and Francis wasted no time in getting rid of it.
"What happened here?" Francis inquired from the crowd as they turned to each other to answer. "If you don't plan on answering me, I suggest you make a path for me to pass." Francis hissed through gritted teeth. He didn't hire these people to stand like fools. They decided to clear a path for him, bowing towards him a sign of apology for their rudeness a while ago.
The first thing Francis saw was fresh blood stains on the floor and a limp body of a person, a male no doubt about that. His whole body, including his face and mop of blonde hair, was covered with deep cut wounds, which looked like it came from a wild animal, making him unidentifiable. Beside the limp body where pieces of shattered glass, Francis will inquire about that later. Right now, he needed to know the details about the seriously injured boy.
Michaels, the head butler of the house, clutched the wrist of the unknown man and said "He is still alive sir. Barely, but still alive."
"Have you called for help from any doctors?"
"Yes sir. But the nearest one will take thirty minutes to come here." Michaels glanced at the man lying on the floor. "I fear he won't make it in time. And this man is still so young..." Michaels sighs before releasing his grip on his wrist.
Francis ran a hand in his blonde locks furiously. He sighs, he had no choice. Curse his soft heart, Michaels words and his medical knowledge. "Bring him to a room. I'll do what I can."
"Yes sir." Michaels barks some orders to the others about getting a stretcher in the store room and other medical materials from wherever it was kept. Francis didn't keep tabs on what goes on in this house. He left that to the capable hands of his butler, Michaels.
"And Michaels, please make sure Matthieu doesn't see any of this." Francis requested, quite worried about the trauma that might cause to the child.
Michaels smiled at his master. He was growing up to be a responsible father to his adopted son "Yes, of course sir."
A.N. Well that's all for the first chapter. Who's the unknown, literally dying, young boy? I gave you hints already in the story. Please review :3 I'll be so giddy with excitement if you do. And I feel like this chapter is too short. What do you think?
S'il vous plaît arrêtez, papa – Please stop, father
Pas du tout – No way/ No
Please tell me if the French translations are off =3= since I'm not a French native.