"What the hell are you doing here?" Francis snapped, not even knocking the door to Lola's little chambers.
The mother of his bastard opened her mouth to reply, but little John beat her to it.
"Papa!" he yelled, running over to Francis. His blonde hair was shaggy and dishevelled, cheeks red and puffy, eyes to match. Francis winced as he heard the name coming from his eldest's mouth, even more when he caught eyes with the little boy. Somehow, after relishing in the times James called him that, to hear John call him it seemed wrong.
"Hello, little one." he tried to smile, picking up the boy and placing him on his hip. He caught sight of an equally as dishevelled Lola, who smiled at him. Gratefully, it seemed.
"Don't get any ideas. We're not going to play family, especially not here." Francis warned. They had done quite enough of that in Italy, it wasn't happening again, especially when they were in Mary's country and court, and she could be dying. He looked back at his son, eyes softening a little. "What's wrong, little one?"
"Mama being mean!"
"What's she done?"
"Don't want to go to bed, don't want to go anywhere else!" he babbled. "I miss you, papa! You're never here any more!" he cried, clinging to Francis.
Those words hurt. He knew he had to spend more time with James. After all, the precious little boy was a product of his pure love with Mary, whilst the one he held in his arms was a product of pain, betrayal and treason. He knew he had to establish a bond with him after abandoning him before he was even born, and Francis was well aware that he had to always pick James -and any, god willing, other children he may have with Mary- over John, but hearing the words come out from John's lips made him instantly conflicted. He didn't like the thought of choosing one son over the other, nor did he like the fact that -looking back on it- he was neglecting one son and relishing in the joy of another.
Doesn't that sound familiar, Francis inwardly thought, rolling his eyes quickly. There was no two ways around it. He was turning into Henry, only this time, he was favouring and adoring the heir and neglecting the bastard child, instead of the other way around. Damn his father, why couldn't he have shown him how to properly father a child? He's made rather a mess of it, if the truth's being told.
"It's alright, I promise." he tried to soothe, feeling rather awkward. He'd spent so much time with James over the last while, feeling so comfortable around him that he could comfort without a second thought. Providing the same comfort to John now felt wrong in a way. He knew he shouldn't feel like this, he wasn't really being a good father to either of his sons, but how could this be remedied?
If he spent time with John, the more obvious it would become to everybody at Court that John was his son, making Lola truly ruined. If James saw him spend time with his other son, the greater possibility that he'd tell his mother when she woke up and the greater chance that his son would shut him out of his heart, for the child was intelligent and perceptive beyond his years.
But, if he spent more time with James, then this little boy -who was the only one innocent in all of this and would be the one to face the brunt of all this- would feel neglected and pushed out. Then, he'd grow to hate James -and, god willing, any other sons or daughters he and May may have- and Mary's prophecy of hatred, rivalry and death would come true. Never mind the fact that in Italy, Francis hadn't spent a day without John, the boy was probably confused about why his father was never there for him anymore.
Good god, why did he let fatherhood become so complicated?
"Francis." a voice hissed from behind him. The King of France turned to see his own bastard brother standing in the doorway. "You cannot enter her chambers alone in the night, Mary's girls will talk." Bash hissed.
Ah, Francis didn't think of that.
"Bash!" John exclaimed, reaching for his fellow out of wedlock son. Slowly, Bash took the little boy into his arms.
"I'll take him around the castle for a while, let him rest with Kenna and I. You two, fix this." Bash ordered, giving Francis a slight bow as he left with John.
"Thank you, he's been screaming all day." Lola began her grateful speech.
"Enough!" Francis interjected. "Why are you here? I want no more lies. I have had it with your lies and deception! Why are you here?"
"I want to see my family. I want to smooth things over with them, should they have found out about our son. If anything should happen to me, I would want him to be with his family. I didn't come for you, although it's nice for our son to finally see you after so long apart."
"And who let you? My mother?" Francis spat.
"Yes."
"Damn you! You know what I told you! I didn't want you to leave the castle until I had sorted things out with Mary! You know why I don't want you and our son around!"
"He is innocent in all this!"
"I know that and that is not what I mean. Like it or not, he will cause problems. He already has! My mother didn't let you go so you could make nice with your family, she let you go because for some unknown reason, she thinks I will be happier with Mary gone from my life and you as my mistress!"
"Why would she think that?"
"I don't know, her own marriage, perhaps? They drilled it into my head when I grew up, so much so that I nearly lost Mary before I even had her! She's actively trying to ruin my marriage, she should know better!"
"Francis, I-"
"As should you!" he interrupted. "You should know better than this! I thought you smart in France, clearly I overestimated you! I gave you solace in John's holdings, income in those. With the condition that you do not interject yourself in my marriage, which you have done!"
"I have not, I-"
"No! You have! By interjecting yourself into Mary's court, you caused this!"
"I did not! It could be anything!"
"Let me think, the physicians think it to be stress related, and the moment you show up in Scotland, Mary collapses after so many months of turmoil in our marriage! Do you see a pattern in that?"
"Francis, let me-"
"You do not command me to do anything! Why are you here? Why couldn't you have gone to the Flemming's estate and never shown your face in this Court in the first place?"
"John needed to see his father, we needed to rest after the trip, our boat nearly went down-"
"Give me an honest answer. You've been lying to me since I conceived John with you." Francis growled. He couldn't bare to say that he slept with her. Knowing what he did now, the thought made him sick.
"I am being honest, I am! I needed to make sure he didn't come down with something, and Court was the first place that came to mind!"
"Why not one of the peasant houses? You had no problem giving birth in one in France."
"France isn't Scotland. I am notorious for what I've done. Nobody knew at that point."
Francis said nothing.
"I had to make sure John wouldn't get sick. Mary gave us a bed and-"
"You have not moved. Why? Why?"
"I need an answer from my parents before I enter their estate."
"It wouldn't surprise me if you haven't sent the letter in the first place." he chuckled humorlessly.
"I would not do that!"
"Wouldn't you? You've lied to me since John, you lie to Mary now. Why wouldn't you stop now?"
"I needed to get my son to safety and-"
"You came to court, the one place that you could have been safe from. People have seen you, Lola! People have seen you and they've seen John, they know what has happened! They know he is ours! Nobody will marry you! You're ruined, no virtue, a bastard son of a King and living off my hospitalises forever! Why couldn't you have just stayed in France like I told you to?!"
"I do not follow your orders! You have not made me your mistress, I am still Mary's subject!"
"There's a difference between following a King's order and being simply stupid! Everybody knows! I tried to protect your secret as you kept it from me! Like how you made Mary keep it from me! How could you be so stupid?!"
"Let me-"
"No! You brought this upon yourself! Why didn't you just come back to court that day, why did you stop at a peasant house, getting yourself, John and I stuck out in plague stricken lands for three weeks, and to top it off, we were stuck in Italy for over two years! My son didn't know me because of you! We nearly killed Mary twice over, do not act like the victim! You are a victim of your own actions and your own consequences! They are the victims, Mary and James!"
"Please, stop!"
"No! You come here and damn near ruin my marriage along with my mother? Why can't the two of you just let Mary and I be happy? We were so close to being happy with James, but the moment you step foot into our lives again, Mary nearly died! She still could! Why did you do that? Why can you not follow a simple command and trust measures that have been made for you?"
"Because I did not think it right! I am not your subject, you cannot order me to do anything, I am simply your rumoured mistress! The rumours are in many ways worse than it being true! I am ruined!"
"Because of your mistakes!"
"You were a willing participant! You kissed me first!"
"And you should have thought about loyalty and treason before letting it go on!"
"I tried!"
"Not very hard!"
"We're both equally as guilty of doing what we did that night, I cannot lie, but you get yourself trapped out in plague stricken lands and literally end my marriage!"
"This isn't about you!"
"No, this is about you trying to sabotage my marriage, you and my mother!"
"I did no such thing! I want you and Mary to be happy, I want you to be happy with James and as many more children as God wills, but I want to be happy and secure as well!"
"And you ruined that the moment you allowed John and James to meet! You had no right!"
"I was thinking of my son, if they got on, James could protect John like you protect Bash!"
"That was not your decision to make! It was Mary's and I's to make! You took that from us and now the boys resent each other because of it! You think James will protect him when he's Emperor? Do you? The meeting soured and even at the ages of three and four, they resent each other! God only knows what they're going to do to each other when they're older!"
"You wanted them to meet! That's why you claimed him!"
"I claimed him because my mother manipulated me into doing so! Because I wanted to give him a better life! Because I thought they could get along, but Mary was right, they cannot! I should have listened to her! You should have listened to her! Pretended to raise Remy's child in Scotland, to give John more station and security than I ever could, and things for nations would have been better! All I could give him is lands, but he will always be treated with scorn and neglect and there is nothing I could or can do about it! Maybe James will take them all away the moment I am dead! You could have given him such a better life! But, no, you so sentimental and down right idiotic ruined everything with your poor decision making!" he yelled.
"Stop, Francis! Please!"
"No! You ruined everything! Get out! Get out of this court, get out of this country! Get out!"
"Please, you must do something for her." Greer begged, her eyes drowned in the dark circles around them. "It's been almost three days. She's no better than when she collapsed. You must do something, Matthias." she finished, worriedly holding her friends' hand as said friends' husband paced around the room. Matthias took another vial and poured it into Mary's mouth. The Lady had been up with Mary the entire night, worrying insistently as news of Mary's condition had reached her. Whilst she'd responded to some medications, that small glimmer of hope had died out, and the fever had worsened again.
Francis -who had not slept in almost three days at that point- had to have something poured into his wine the night before. His brother had continuously told him that he should leave and rest, bathe and eat, see his son. But, his protests of Francis' whereabouts fell on def ears. So much so that when he suggested going to his chambers to sleep, Francis had nearly hit him. You won't do any good standing over them as they work, Bash had told him, speaking as if he was talking to a disobedient child. It had been a miracle that the sedation had actually worked. The King had spent a few hours draped over a settee near the fire the night before, Greer and Kenna taking turns sleeping and keeping watch, alerting the physicians at every given opportunity.
"I am not sure what do to, Lady Greer. I can find no signs of infection despite the fever, I have checked for everything. Even poison." he added.
"You think my wife is being poisoned?!" came the quick response of the King of France, who had became relentless over the past few hours. Agitation over the drama of the mother of his bastard child and worry for the mother of his legitimate heir had kept him on edge, especially because Lola still was in the castle and Mary was still unconscious.
"I do not. I can find no traces of it. Leeching has done us no favours, nor has blood letting. My Empress' fever still is high," he placed the back of his palm and fingers across Mary's forehead. "and she shows no signs of awaking anytime soon. All we can do is attempt to lower the never and maintain liquid in her system." Matthias finished, nodding to the Emperor Consort, dismissing himself with a swift 'ma'am' to Greer, walking out the door.
"Do you think she will wake?" Greer wondered.
"I pray she does." Francis admitted. "How's James?" he asked.
"Confused. He doesn't know why 'mama won't wake up' and why he can't come in and see her. Kenna and I have tried to explain that his mother is unwell, that we wish for her to get better and for him to see her, but he is blinded with worry for her. We all are," the Lady Castleroy took Mary's closest hand and looked down at her, face contorted with worry. "Poor boy is so perceptive." Greer finished.
"I expect he still blames me? For what happened to Mary?"
"He does not," Greer revealed. "It was said in the moment, he wouldn't know what it meant, anyway. He knows his mother is sickened by a means that is yet undercovered. But, he keeps repeating something odd."
"What?"
"I don't want to see the bad boy, I don't want to see the bad boy." Greer mimicked, her words sending a chill down Francis' spine.
"James." Francis said, coming into the small boy's large nursery. He sat with his usual contingent of guards, playing with some building blocks with one of his handmaidens. Usually, the royal nursery was occupied by not only himself, but Greer and Kenna's children, but they rushed around Scottish Court undisturbed by the fate of 'tante Mary' whilst said woman's son had to be close enough to be called at a moment's notice. After all, anything could happen.
The small boy looked up, eyes glowing particularly golden-green in the light. "Papa!" James chirped, bumbling up to his feet and rushing on steadying legs over to Francis, squealing softly.
Francis smiled a little. He picked up the little boy and placed him on his hip. He looked to the guards and the servents and the nursemaid. "Leave us." Francis said. They did so, closing the door behind themselves.
James sat comfortably on Francis'lap as his father sat down on a chair near the fire. For a June day, it was unusually dark and cold. Little hands wound themselves into Francis' hair, starting to play with the blonde ringlets as Francis reluctantly started this rather unhappy conversation.
"James, do you remember what you said a few days ago?" Francis asked. James adjusted himself, sitting with his legs crossed under him on Francis' lap. One hand of his father kept him steady, the other propping up his head.
"No." James said, innocent and honest.
"About the mean boy and his mother?" Francis asked.
James cocked his head to the side, dark curls sweeping to the side.
"Yes."
"What happened before that?" Francis asked.
"I was playing soldiers with George and the woman came into the nursery. She had a pink dress and curly hair. She plopped a boy next to me, told us to try and be friends. It would make everybody happy as we got bigger. But, the boy kept telling and throwing things. Meri and Rose were here as well. He almost hit Meri with one of the blocks, and I didn't like that, Papa. I yelled at him to stop, because Meri is only little and hurts easily, just like Rose. He wouldn't though, kept yelling things in a tounge I didn't understand, but I remember grandmeré saying words like it, and uncle Bash. He just kept yelling and throwing things, not even Vicky could get him to stop. He scared Rose, yelling near her after Vicky told him not to throw things at her, because he did, Papa! He threw a block at her. He was really mean, Papa. Honest, he was! And then the woman in pink came in, told us off for not being nice to each other, for not being like George and little Rose. Said that lots of people needed us to be friends. But then, as she left, she said something to Lady Aimee's friend, Robert, about talking to you. Then, Steven came in and told me mama was sick." James babbled on, barely stopping for breath, his words severely misspoken and slurred, by he got his message across.
All this time, Francis quietly listened to his son recant the meeting that never should have taken place. The hand supporting his son's back was gentle, but the hand fisted against his jaw was clenched tight, tighter and tighter like a vice. How could Lola have done that?! How could his own mother think that their presence would make him happy?! Happier than the family he shared with Mary?! Was she that desentitised of his feelings? Was that that idiotic that she thought that she knew best?
James' little voice brought him out of his thoughts.
"You aren't mad at me, are you, Papa? For not making friends with the mean boy?"
All anger that he held for his mother and Lola evaporated and he brought James closer to him, kissing the dawny black curls.
"Of course not, ma petite prince," he said quietly. "Of course not. I'm proud of you for protecting your cousin's and keeping them safe. It's the lady in pink that I have an issue with." Francis replied.
"Can we see mama, now, Papa? I want to see her." James asked, his sweet little voice melting the ice Francis felt in his heart.
"Of course, my little prince."
James lay on top of his mother, quietly humming the tune she sang to him when he could not get to sleep at night. Greer was asleep in one of the nearbye settees, Rose near her. Close, Kenna sat reading from a book, close enough to James to keep him safe but far away enough to give him some privacy.
Close, Francis sat at Mary's desk, where the minor political issues were sorted out. He too wrote of a political issue, but this was far more personal than a ruckus about grain and trade roots.
Her Majesty, Catherine de Medici, Queen Mother and Regent of France,
Mother,
It has recently came to my attention that under your command and assured protection, the Lady Lola Flemming and my son, the Baron of Delay, were let out of the French Court and found their way to Edinburgh. This not only contradicted my direct order for you to ensure this would not happen -as you and I both know that this woman and this child have almost ruined my marriage and my soul purpose of coming to Edinburgh was to win my wife and son back- but this could be seen as directly working against me. Something that will be foolish for the regent to do, seeing as though the nobility of France are simply itching to have a male under the regency until my return.
Because of this betrayal, I could send word to Lord Cumbas, seeing as though he has proven himself loyal and trustworthy, inform him of this act of betrayal and have you permanently removed from the regency. However, as our previous horrid ordeal proved to us, you constantly have your own reasoning for doing what you will. So, I will give you a chance to defend your actions to me directly. Imminently, I summon you to Edinburgh, France will be left in the capable hands of the aformentioned Lord.
However, I do believe that it is my unfortunate responsibility to inform you of my wife's recent illness. Three days prior to myself writing this, she collapsed into my arms, ironically after seeing Lady Lola after so long. The Empress has not awoken since, she is with a high fever and physicians are unaware on how to help her. Therefore, I ask that you bring Nostradamus with you on your imminent voyage to Scotland. As you know, I have no use for the man as a prophet, but as a physician, his skills cannot be denied. I must do everything I can to assist my wife's recovery. I cannot let her Empire be ruled without her, nor can I live with myself if my beloved son grows up without his equally as beloved mother because I did not do everything in my power to ensure her recovery. You may have disobeyed one order, but I command you to follow this one; do not inform anybody of the Empress's illness. It is in the relams' best interest to be unaware.
Kindest regards,
King Francis of France, Emperor Consort of Great Britain and it's isles.
"Mama," the little Crown Prince babbled as he sat on Mary's abdomen. He looked intently down at her. Whilst the boy looked like Mary, his expressions were all Francis. James leaned down and pressed their noses, as if testing if she was pretending to be asleep. Coming up short from his little test, James brushed an errant curl from his forehead, tapping Mary's cheek. "Mama, wake up now." James finished, sitting straight on her hips.
The young Crown Prince had been placed in Mary's chambers the night before, sleeping upon her bed the entire night, their hands tightly locked together. James seemed comforted by the sound of his mother's heartbeat, and those in the room loathed to move him and disturb the peaceful slumber that the tiny boy had finally got. And, nobody could deny that Mary had taken a turn for the better ever since her only child had been brought to her.
The young crown Prince of France and Great Britain had started clinging to his father whenever he wasn't around, especially when his mother was as out of commission as she was. And, as attached to Mary as he was, it was such a hard job getting the boy to settle when he wasn't around her. Even if she was unconscious, he still had to be around her.
The little boy had been carried into the room by the young French King, and his presence seemed to have done wonders. Not just for the morale for everybody in the room, but for his own mother. Gone were the slight expressions of pain and unhappiness, replaced with a more serene look of contentment. Although still unresponsive, the fever had gone down a tad and she was responding to the medications more than the night before. It seemed almost surreal that this tiny little Prince could work more wonders than the most experienced physicians.
"Come on, Mama. Time to wake up." James tried again, running his little hands through her hair, before they settled on her jaw. Little fingers prodded at her cheeks and nose, before settling again, this time on her chest. He waited intently, as if waiting for a response, before huffing impatiently, patting her nose twice.
The young boy was donned in white and blue silk, looking more like Francis than ever as he observed his sickly mothers' frame. Like him, she was donned in soft colours, however she seemed to have improved a little. A tiny sheen of sweat regularly appeared on her skin, not noticeable unless looking for it, and her fever had gone down a little. She wasn't in as much discomfort as she appeared to usually be in, and her breaths were deeper than the others. As if a constriction in her lungs had finally left her.
James stopped his shakes of Mary's limp body and popped up, glancing all around the large chamber, looking for somebody.
"What is it, love?" Kenna asked, rocking Meredith on her lap. The tiny girl in raven silk and golden lace lazily looked over the room, owlishly blinking her green eyes.
"Papa, where's Papa?" James asked.
"He's getting the mean boy's mother to finally go away, little one." Sebastian said, leaning against a chest of draws, observing the scene much like his nephew observed the limp body of his mother.
"Really?" James seemed hopeful.
"Really." Bash clarified. "It's better for everybody."
"Are you still here?" Francis asked. Jumping, Lola turned around from her trunk to the languid form of Francis. This time, he was flanked by a servent and one of Mary's Scottish working girls, a green eyed red head donned in mint chiffon.
The Lady looked worse than ever. Pale skin, a flush of pink upon her cheeks and her nose, another ill fitting gown. This one, a bright pink figure hugging gown that clearly wasn't worn since before she got pregnant, for it fell horribly on the motherly figure she bore, hugging the wrong places. Her tight curls were messy, she looked exhausted. Eyes were sunken in -as small as ever- and cheeks puffy.
From one of the corners of the modest chambers, the young Baron sat huddled in a tight ball, screaming in childish anger. There was nothing around him, but plenty a good perimeter away, telling Francis that the boy had had yet another fit of anger and had thrown all of his toys and trinkets away from himself in rebellion.
"Yes, please understand. I have nowhere else to go. I cannot beg on the streets, with you being who you are and your son being who he is." Lola glanced out at the window. "The weather is turning, a storm is approaching. Please, do not make us leave."
"This is Mary's court. I have no authority here, in her stead, her brother rules upon this land until she wakes up." Francis informed. "He will give me no authority, he is angered by our actions towards his sister. And, who can blame him?"
Lola nodded slowly.
"However, he is well aware of your situation, and the boys'. For, he himself is bastard born. Beg for the Earls' mercy. I am not sure if you will get anywhere, but it is your only chance of having a glimmer of safety and security in this country."
"I have sent constant letters to my parents, asking for an audience, for a chance to explain." Lola began.
"They have not replied?"
"No, my Lord."
"The moment they do, you will leave."
"Yes, Francis."
"Why is he screaming?" Francis asked.
"He is so angry in this place. He can sense the Scots' distain for him, he cannot be in a room with his brother-"
"Half brother." Francis reminded. "Bringing him here has ruined any chance of including him with James and any other of my children Mary should bare. I hope you know that."
Lola said nothing. She looked down.
"Why did you really come here? It was not for your parents, you didn't give a damn about them in Italy."
"I-I-" Lola stumbled. "I came here because I wanted a chance." Francis frowned. "To make it right, with you, with Mary, with the Prince. With Kenna and Greer, Bash and Leith. They all cannot stand me for the things I have done, and I wish for nothing more than to make it right. To be how we were in France, before Collen or the Prophecy." Lola paused. "To give our son a chance," she looked over to the screaming child, his own cheeks puffy and red, eyes wide. "to be accepted by James. I am a woman, I know what it means to be one in this world. Now, more than ever. I must think of the future. His future." Lola looked back. "Should the children get along, possibly, John's future could have been assured."
"But, they did not."
"No, John could feel the mistrust from those guards and servants, and he was angry that the atmosphere occurred after he was in the room. Those servants and nannies adore Prince James and his own cousin's. But, not him. Even now, he resents them for their legitimacy and for their titles, whilst he has his own, he is in for a life of scorn and neglect."
"Their is nothing you or I can do to stop it."
"No, there is not." she paused. "Why couldn't you have let us go?!" Lola suddenly cried. Francis blinked, coming closer into the room. As witnesses -per the Earl of Moray's orders- the servent and the working girl came in as well. "That day, that day when we met Stéphane Narcisse, and your cousin, Louis of Conde, why couldn't you have let us go?!" she cried. "I could have raised him in Scotland, everybody under the rouse that he was Remy's child! Under the rouse that Julian was actually Remy! Things would have been so much better for all of us! I could have had status and respect, so could he! Greer and Lola wouldn't hate me, Mary would have been happy and you could have been around for James! Why couldn't you have thought like your father for that moment?!" she cried.
"I understood all the reasons, I did! You know that! I just couldn't. I held him and I couldn't let him go, I didn't want to and I had every right to keep him! You staying with him, in France and Scotland, was a consequence of your own actions! If you hadn't gotten us that wine, none of this would have happened!"
"And if you hadn't started pushing me to sleep with you, this also wouldn't have happened! You started kissing me first! You came onto me first!"
"And if you had told me you were pregnant, we could have worked something out! Marry you off to a French Lord, giving me time to see my son, anything but this!"
"You took it upon yourself to make John and James meet, knowing Mary was against it, knowing the meeting wouldn't end up going well! How could you do that?! Are you that idiotic, that delusional that you think what you want to happen will end up happening? Are you serious?" Francis snapped.
They silenced for a moment.
"There isn't use talking about what could have been's and what almost was." Francis said, his voice slow. "We must do what is right by France and the Empire, Mary and James, as well as John." he said.
Lola nodded slowly. "John is my main concern. I'd rather not give Mary, nor James, reason to take our heads." she finished.
"Very well. Talk to the Earl, ask for an extended stay. I won't send you away when there's nowhere else to go. Not for you, but for John. And, as soon as Mary is awake and coherent, we will all talk about what we should do." Francis replied.
"Yes. But, what if she doesn't wake? You know fevers are serious." Lola replied, looking up at Francis.
"She will. There's no point thinking otherwise unless the worst happens." Francis answered, before starting to walk over to John. He picked up the screaming boy, holding him to his chest as he rose them both to standing height.
"What's wrong, child?" Francis asked.
"Mama being mean, papa! She yelled at me for not being nice!"
"And why weren't you nice?" Lola asked.
"Because people are mean to me! People look at me different to what they do that other boy, even Meredith or Bash! It's not fair!" the boy wailed, struggling in his fathers' arms.
"No it isn't, but you have to be better than those people." Francis replied.
"Don't want to! They shouldn't be mean!"
"It's what they were told to do, by their own parents. Your father and I will raise you to be better than them." Lola said, coming close. Noticing the look that Marianne was shooting him, Francis sent his bastard child into the arms of his mother. Said child instantly started yelling out again, his little arms extending out towards Francis once more. Slowly, as if the act was causing him pain, Francis took the boy back into his arms, noticing that the boy started to settle the moment he was returned to his arms.
"I miss you, papa! You used to always be with me, now you're not! Now you're always with him!" John sobbed, clinging to his fathers' neck, fisting his small fingers into the silk and velvet doublet the King of France wore. He said 'him' with a great amount of venom, as much as his four year old mind could muster, clearly referring to James.
"Who have you seen your father with?" Lola asked, coming in close again. Feeling the glare at his shoulder, Francis took a few steps away, trying his very best to act casually and naturally.
"That other boy! The one people are nice to, the one everybody is nice to!" John cried. "Be with me, papa! I miss you!"
"Shh, it's okay, my love." Lola soothed, running a hand through John's straight golden hair. "It's alright. Your fathers' here. And he's never leaving you again."
A knock at the door.
"Excuse me, sire?" Steven popped his head in through the door. "But the Empress has awoken. She's asking for you."