Francis stood shock still. His hair looked shorter, whiter almost. Beautiful azure eyes looked almost grey to his shock. He's in shock, unable to say anything. He looked into James' eyes, neither father nor sons saying a word. He breathed, trying to process everything that James had said. How could he do this? How could he be so foolish to do this?
"James," he decided, kneeling to the floor to his sons height. James cocked his head, not rushing into his arms like he normally would over the last nine months. "I need to tell you something."
"What?" he asked. Francis tried to not to let it bother him that the child didn't refer to him as 'Papa' as he had done for months. But, biting his lip, the King continued.
"I am sorry." he said. James furrowed his little eyebrows. "For everything." he said. The little boy shook his head, clinging his white fur lined, golden coloured, satin blanket closer to his small body, little sleepwear hanging off his nimble, little frame.
"For what? Making Mama sad when you told me you weren't going to any more? For always being with that other boy instead of me? Or for making my little brother come early." he wrapped his little arms around each other in front of him.
"All of it. And more." he said. Francis spotted the rocking chair and got up, plopping himself down into the overstuffed item. James watched him, wearily and closely. Francis patted his knee. Reluctantly, the boy climbed up onto his fathers lap.
"Would you like me to explain what has happened between your mother and I?" Francis asked. James brushed his black curls from his face and nodded silently.
"When you were still in your mothers stomach, how your brother just was," Francis nodded to the sleeping baby in the cradle. "I did something very bad to your mother."
James blinked owlishly at him, staring expectantly at his father.
"She told me something that shocked me, and that made me act badly."
"What did you do?"
"We were in France at that time, remember France?"
James nodded.
"Everybody was getting very sick at that time, and nobody could help them. Your mother was frightened of it, everybody was. And if those people got sick, they would go to heaven. Everybody was very afraid. And when a girl was trying to leave her home to come back to the castle, she got stuck in an area where people were getting very ill." he said.
James settled into his fathers lap, listening intently to the tale.
"She told me that a girl needed my help since she couldn't leave a place where she was at. And that she thought she was going to join God. But she had that little boy with her, and wanted me to take care of that boy, should she go into God's hands."
"And what did you do?"
"I went to her." he admitted. James shook his head. "It was a very silly thing to do. Because the night before, my own Papa went to heaven. I was the King of France then, not a Prince."
"Like I am?"
"Like you are." Francis addressed the tiny Dauphin. "At the time, all that mattered was saving the girl and her baby-"
"Not mama? Or me?"
"I didn't know about you at the time, my boy. As for your mother, I was angry at her at that time."
"Why?"
Francis took a moment to think of the right words. He had spoken with Mary about this just after they started to reconnect, and both agreed that they wouldn't tell James about John or the complete truth of their past until he was old enough to understand. Yet here he was, not even four years old and asking questions. And they had agreed to speak to him directly about this, together, but Mary was attaining some much needed sleep after Lucian's long birth and a long day of introducing the new Prince to their most trusted circle and introducing James for the first time. He wasn't sure how to handle this on his own.
"Because she kept something very big from me. I can see why she did it, it was very understandable after I thought about it. But I would have liked to have been told what she was keeping from me."
"What was it?"
"I will tell you when your mother is awake and you are older." he said.
"But Mama always says no secrets!" he said, his voice louder than usual, but still quiet for the sake of the baby. "Shd never keeps secrets from me, no matter how big or small!" he thrust his small yet long legs back and forth in two large swings.
"It's not a secret, mon petite. We're just waiting until you can understand better." Francis ran his hand through James' silky black curls.
"But why, papa?" the Dauphin asked. "Why do you hurt my mama so, for so long? Why do you keep secrets from me? Oncle says you wish to protect us, but it isn't working!" James pushed.
"Alright, child. Let me tell you a story."
"Not one borne out of your head to make me forget? A proper story?" James asked. "Yours and mama's story?" he finished.
"Yes, child." Francis sighed. "I suppose you're old enough now." the King of France sighed. "Your mother has told you of how we met? That at her mother and my father arranged for us to wed?"
"M'hmm." Jamed nodded eagerly. "The English were closing in and wanted my mother's blood and Scotland, and mad great, great uncle Henry wanted Scotland and for her to marry great cousin Edward when he was as small as Lucien!" James pointed to the sleeping baby. "France wanted to have a big empire, and mama was the key to get it." he babbled.
"Well done, but Prince Edward was a little older than Lucien. Anyway, I loved your mama dearly when I was young, and she loved me the same. We did everything together, we protected each other and trusted each other through everything. But the monster of England kept trying to harm her." Francis sighed, remembering all those times in which English assassins had tried to take Mary's life from her when she was just a child. Sometimes she was harmed in the process, but she held firmly to her life. The very same one that he put in danger time and again. "Your mother was strong through it all, I never saw her cry during any of the times the English tried to harm her," he wasn't even sure that little Mary cried when he was taken from him at age nine. "the only time I saw her cry was when she missed her mother after she let her down time and again. Do you remember your grandmother Marie?" the fair haired King asked his heir.
"Only a little." James replied. "I remember grandmothers dark hair and piercing gaze. She didn't act like grandmère does to you, but she told me she loved mama and me before she joined mama's papa in heaven."
"One night, an Englishman in the pay of your mama's enemy, the Tudors, he harmed her with a blade. My mama and papa were told and they took her from me. They took her away from me for years." Francis let out a shaky breath. "They holed her up in a convent and banned me from sending letters to her. Your mother never told me what it was like there. But I saw how different she acted when she returned to me, the poorly healed whip marks on her back and the dark bruises on her wrists and biceps."
"How long was she taken from you, papa? Why didn't you stop them doing that?"
"I was little more than a boy then, my child. I had no power then, neither of us could do anything to keep us together. She was gone for six years. Thy kept her in the cruelest conditions, little food and heat in the winter, little water in the summer. I overheard her telling things to your aunts."
"And what did you do when mama was gone?"
"For the first year, I missed her terribly. I begged my mother to return her to me and moped for weeks on end. My mothers deluded ignorance to my pain will always be the death of her. I tried to find out where she was to send letters and gifts to her, but my father deluded me into thinking that your mother's country and our marriage wasn't the best option at that time. My heart was hardened against her and I started acting foolishly. I didn't honour your mother in any way, tried to forget her and what she meant to me. I was foolish and childish and utterly rediculous in heighsight. The playboy Prince is no role to play. Remember that when your own lady is delivered to you." Francis went off on a slight tangent, his son meanwhile absorbed every word his father spoke.
"Anne?" James asked.
"Yes. When you're older and the Princess is delivered to you, you must treat her kindly and without judgement. Do you understand, my boy?"
"Yes, Papa. But I want to hear the story!" James huffed, tightly bonding his arms around his little white night shirt and thick red robe. His lips drew into a frown, little lines appearing on a small forehead, golden eyes that were all Mary narrowing into small slits. "Tell me or I will make mama do so! She will! She will!" the small boy huffed once more, adjusting his position on Francis' lap.
"I will, I will." Francis humourlessly chuckled. James seemed satisfied, pouty lips extending out a little, hi big golden eyes string into Francis' blue ones. "When she was once more returned to me, something changed between us. I fell in love with her the moment I saw her standing with your aunts in France. But my own father taught me that wives were supposed to be for heirs and other women were for loving. But I loved your mother. And that scared me, so I tried to push her away." he paused. "It was a mistake in hindsight, but I was trying to separate love and duty. To make sure that my rule wasn't hazed because of love. I was easily taken advantage of at that time, I was a boy trapped in a man's body. But your grandmother was dead set against your mother at that time."
"How she is now?" James questioned, little fingers fiddling with his father's doublet.
"Slightly." Francis admitted. "My mother wanted yours gone, and would do anything to make it happen. On one of her first nights in the court in France, my mother made a boy do something very horrid to your mother. He tried, but your mother stopped him. So, my father sent him to heaven. As a result, a girl said something very stupid to your mother, inexcusable and idiotic. But it was moved past in the blink of an eye for some unknown reason."
"Who, papa?" James questioned, curls sliding out of place as the young child looked up at the elder man, his high necked doublet causing the little Prince a few issues with sight. "Who said something? What was it? Who did something bad to mama?" he rushed, the words with no pauses for breath.
"It was the lady with curly dark hair, mon petite." James glared in response, his eyes darkening just like Francis' did when he wasn't pleased with something. "A boy who the lady loved was paid to make sure mama couldn't marry me, because grandmere's adviser told her that if she married me, I would go to heaven." James cocked his little head to the side. "He tried to hurt her. Hurt her in a way that wouldn't send her to heaven, but would make her very sad and prevent her from marrying me."
"Like how she was hurt, grandmère?" James asked. Francis frowned, wondering how James would know of his mother's childhood rape. But, as if hearing his fathers thoughts, the little boy spoke again. "I heard her talking with Tante Elisabeth a little while ago. She said she was hurt by a man. Did she want that to happen to mama?" he asked, tightening his little hands upon Francis' doublet.
"Yes, she did. But mama stopped him from doing it. Now-"
"No, papa. Why would she want her to hurt the way she hurt? That doesn't make any sense." he shook his little head, the words slurred and a tad mispronounced. But he got his message across, small eyebrows threading together in irritation.
"Because she loved me more than she did her. And tried to get your mother to drink something that would make her sleep through it."
"That doesn't make it better, though! She doesn't make very good decisions, papa." James shook his head, emphasising his point. Francis chuckled humorlessly again, adjusting him on his lap, feeling the heir start to slip with the force of his shakes.
"No, she does not." he agreed softly. "She tries to make if seem as though her actions are fuelled by her love for her family, but that is questioned a lot." he said.
"What now, papa? What happened after that?" he questioned impatiently. "After mama stopped the bad man from hurting her."
"I don't think he was a bad man, child. I think he was a desperate man. Your grandmother has an awful habit of taking advantage of people at their most vulnerable." he said, running his hand through his son's curls once again.
James huffed. "Silly." was the only word that left his mouth. Francis nodded in agreement.
"She didn't do a good thing again, child." James groaned heartily upon hearing this, settling his head on Francis' chest and shoulder. The elder chuckled at the sight, seeing little Mary in their little boy once again. "She tried to bring somebody who papa once loved back to the castle, in hopes I would love her again and cast mama off to Scotland."
"Like what Oncle Leith did to the Marquis after Tante Claude went to heaven with her little boy?" James asked.
"How did you remember-" Francis began to ask, but shook it off, the unspoken words dying on his tongue. The child was equally as unpredictable as his parents, after all. "But yes. Oncle sent away a possible second wife, breaking off their short engagement and setting her up with another Duke that could provide more than he could at the time. Your grandmother wanted me to do that."
"But you didn't?"
"I didn't." Francis nodded. "Your mother drew me in even closer, proving her and Scotland's worth when she helped Papa and Grandmere send away evil men in France."
James smiled up at his father, pulling away from the heat of his chest to look up into his eyes, clearly proud of his mother's past actions.
"And then what happened?"
"I was going to marry her." Francis revealed. James grinned at his father. "My own father told me that it was time to finally finalise the alliance between our two countries. But my mother didn't want this to happen, remember the thing her adviser told her? That I would go to heaven if she married me?" James nodded, the grin fading. "She told your mother, in hopes that she would refuse to marry me and save my life. She didn't believe her, claiming it was nonsense, but she was scared by the fact that the adviser also said that one of her ladies would die. And one of them did. Has your mother or Tante's ever told you about a Lady Aylee Livingstone?"
James hummed in thought, before nodding. "Yes. Mama always told Tante Kenna that if I ever had sisters, one of them she wanted to call Aylee because one of her closest friends was called Aylee, but went to heaven long ago. Was she nice, papa?"
"I never really knew her, but your mother loved and trusted her more than her other ladies at that time." he explained. "Well, the Lady died and your mother was scared off into running away from French Court, wanting to save me from my fate-" Francis paused a little. Well, the prophecy kind of came true. I did technically die, after all, he inwardly acknowledged, having always held no use for Nostradamus as a seer, rather proffering him as a physician or an astronomer. "and she came back a week later." he finished. "With your Oncle Bash, who rode with her to keep her safe. They tried to go to Scotland, but it didn't work. Instead, they came back to French Court. Your mother was blinded by love and fear for me, so she tried to make your uncle the next heir, marry him and keep me safe." Francis sighed.
"But she didn't do it meanly, Papa." James interjected quietly.
"I know, mon petite." Francis nodded. "But, I was so angry with her, thinking her so foolish to act on superstition and fear. I wanted to be with her, regardless for how long. But your mother held strong, and I went away for a while. We were always going to get married, so the engagement was never really broken. Just postponed for a while. Your mother worked to get him to be a Prince, and I roamed my homeland for a few weeks. But I was always the Dauphin in that time, your uncle was never legitimised by the Pope. They were never really engaged. And your mother always loved me in that time, and I her. So, it was just a temporary postponement. But nobody knew that at the time."
James chewed on his fingers, thinking of this new revelation his father had forced upon his little shoulders.
"I roamed along France for a while. I had money and riches beyond belief, the world at my feet and so much freedom. I was horridly sad at the time, wanting your mother and my crown more than I had wanted my freedom. But I couldn't think of how to get them back. I had still loved her, despite everything she had done. And she loved me despite everything I had done." he nodded. "But a couple days before I married her, finally, I saw one of her ladies in a house." Francis closed his eyes, hating himself for his decision that day in Paris.
"Which one?"
"Lola." Francis answered.
James frowned. "The one with curly hair, silly dresses and horridly large teeth?" he guessed.
"Yes-"
"No!" James suddenly exclaimed. Francis nearly jumped at the sudden noise, looking down at the boy as he roughly hit himself with his now crossed arms. "I don't like that one!"
"I know, child." he said, his voice soft now. "I-"
"No, Papa." James suddenly stood upon Francis' lap. The man held the boy tightly, making sure he didn't fall. James narrowed his eyes at his father. "Is that one the curly haired Lady I see at court? The mean boys' mother?" he guessed.
"Yes, child." Francis admitted. James huffed.
"I don't like her, Papa. I really don't. She irritates me and makes mama sad and very angry." he tried to speak in a tongue Mary did, that could only be described as the Queenly tone, but the high pitched voice and the childishly tired slurs contradicted the stern tone he tried to use.
"I know, James. Most of the time she irritates me as well. But she didn't when I saw her long ago." Francis' words seemed to pain him now. His son spoke again.
"I'm not sure I like where this story is going, Papa." he said, his voice slow in a way that had nothing to do with his three year old tiredness.
Francis chuckled a little, hearing Mary's bluntness on their son's tongue. "Are you going to let me tell the rest of the story?" James plopped down onto his fathers' legs again, his wordless response clear. "Very good. I was very sad at the time, and she was as well. She was a really good friend to me at that time (Quick A/N, it's nearly killing me writing this bit. This is the closest thing I will ever write to anything close to Frola. I just hate it so much!) and listened in a way nobody had done before. I didn't have to hide with her, and I had to hide from everybody at that time, but not her. She listened to me and didn't try to decide anything for me-" James cut his father off again.
"Papa," he nearly warned. "Stop saying things like that. I don't like it." he crossed his little arms along himself again, glaring at his father now. Said father gave his child a half grin.
"She and I did something very bad. Does that suffice?" Francis guessed.
"Yes." James answered, before starting to think about what his father had actually said. "No. What did you do?"
Francis gulped almost audibly. James narrowed his eyes, seeing that action. "The very same thing I did to give your mother Lucien." he said.
"The thing that mama said that you're going to tell me about when I'm older?" the little boy guessed, his words misspoken.
"Yes," he nodded. "I put a baby in her stomach."
"Papa!" James exclaimed. "Why would you do that! That was mama's friend! Why? That was so mean! It doesn't matter that you hadn't seen her, that doesn't make it better, that's so mean! Silly!"
"It was. Very, very silly. I didn't mean to do that, I didn't intend to put a baby in her, or even talk to her. She was being-"
"No. You did a bad thing. No excuses." James repeated the words his mother had told his father almost a thousand times.
"Yes, no excuses." Francis agreed, wondering how his child could be so perceptive and intelligent at not even four years old. But he was his and Mary's son, after all.
From behind them, little Lucien started making noises. Francis looked up to his youngest child before looking down towards his heir who'm still occupied his lap. "I'll be a minute, mon petite." he said, lifting James up off his lap and placing him gently down onto the couch. James watched as his father came closer to his brother and lifted him up. Francis placed the baby upon his chest, holding him gently and shushing the small noises the newborn baby boy let out. The King of France murmured soft words in his mother tongue to his newborn son, gently running his hand in circles over the baby's tiny back. The little boy slowly calmed his soft cries, opening his big blue eyes to look up at his father. The baby boy blinked owlishly in somewhat recognition, letting out a kittenish noise as one tiny hand escaped the clutch of his swaddle and wrapped around one of the buttons of his fathers' doublet. Briefly, Francis wondered if his new son's eyes would remain blue or transform into the colour of his love's eyes. He couldn't help but wish for the latter, wanting to see another mix of Mary and himself in their children.
"There you go, that's better, isn't it?" Francis cooed. "Je t'aime, mon petit prince," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the baby's head. Lucien made a noise in response, cooing all of his own, blinking slowly as he was wrapped in another blanket -the baby was born a tiny bit early and it was winter, after all, and nobody wanted to risk what happened with the French twin Princesses to happen to the new Imperial Prince- and walked over to the chair.
James had perched himself up on the armrest, watching his father and brother with rapt attention. His father settled himself down on the chair, slowly adjusting his eldest legitimate son to sit upon his lap once more, laying the baby down in James' arms, settled by Francis' larger, warmed ones.
Unable to help it, James giggled at his baby brother, stroking the small golden tendrils and running his hands over the baby's face.
"Gently," Francis quietly reminded him into his ear, kissing James' head in the process.
"I know, Papa." his voice was a mix of happiness and exasperation. He looked over at his father over his shoulder. "What happened then, Papa?" he whispered, careful not to startle Lucien.
"The next day, I married your mother. It was such a happy day for all involved. I hadn't been happier until that day. Your mother made the most beautiful bride, you know?" he smiled absentmindedly. "She and I had the most wonderful time on our wedding tour. She was somehow more beautiful then. We were so happy."
James smiled at his father, a big bright beam, in fact.
"And when we came back to court, we had tried to make ourselves as happy as we were on our wedding tour. But Court, especially French, wasn't a happy or safe place." James silently nodded, playing with his brothers' fingers as he listened to his fathers' words. "Your Oncle Bash was causing problems for us, and I came to find out that your mama found out what Lola and I did. That she had my baby in her stomach." James huffed. Francis chuckled humorlessly again. "Lola made your mother not tell me, because if I ever knew, her baby's life would be worsened and her life would belong to me. And your mother also didn't tell me because she feared that if she did, she would loose my love and I would turn to Lola and stray from her."
"Please," James huffed. "That would never happen."
"You're right. It wouldn't." Francis smiled into James' curly black locks. "But she feared it. They both kept it a secret from me for a long time. During that time, mama and I were arguing about politics and we both did terrible things to each other for our countries and our own greater good. I even went to war-"
"Like mama did?" James asked, seeming to be enchanted by this little boy who lay in his arms. And who also looked remarkably bigger because of the tinyness of his own arms.
"Like mama did." Francis agreed. "But I came back to her, as always. And then, we created you." James beamed at his father, turning around his shoulder again. "You were created out of our love for each other and nothing but. Just like your brother." James looked down at Lucien again, starting to giggle. It was true, however. These boys had been created out of the love he had for his wife -although alcohol had something to do with Lucien's conception, Francis reluctantly could admit- and that was what was right. As much as he loved John, his conception had been the biggest mistake of his life and had set in motion events that could have changed the European monarchy. And whilst he could never call the boy he loved dearly a mistake, certain mistakes surrounding him had been made.
"But then Papa made another enormous mistake." Francis sighed, leaning back against the overstuffed chair, looking away from his sons and to the painting of Mary's paternal great, great grandmother and her own child in her arms, Mary of Guelders and the future James III. He wouldn't call leaving Court in the plague his worst mistake, as if he had never had sex with Lola (AN again, eww. I hate writing stuff like that), he would have never felt the need to go save the unborn baby and it's foolish mother.
"When you left mama and me?" James guessed. His voice was quiet now, in a way different to not wanting to disturb the sleepy baby. It told Francis of James' own grief to his abandonment when he wasn't even born. "When I was tiny in mama's stomach?"
"That would be it." Francis sighed, still looking away. "I know I shouldn't have done it, James. And I will forever be sorry. Impulsiveness is no quality for a King to have."
"I know, Papa." James nodded. Neither of them were looking at each other now. James was focused on the baby, Francis looking at the large, slightly withered painting, a hand resting underneath his chin and over his lips, the other keeping his Prince's secure on his lap.
"Then mama and France thought you had gone to heaven. And I was born and was King."
"And your mother gained England." Francis sighed. "Do you remember that time?"
"Only a little." James admitted. "But I remember mama not being very happy unless we were together." he looked back at his father now. Francis felt his son's eyes and looked back at him, jawline becoming more prominent and sharp with the shadow of the candlelight. "Where is Mama now, Papa?" James asked.
"She's sleeping, petite." Francis replied, an exhale making his words airy. He ran a large hand over James' curls again. "Having your brother exhausted her."
The little Dauphin and Crown Prince nodded again. He gripped his fathers' fingers as they passed down his arm and sat back on his lap, resting against his fathers' chest, holding his hand and his brother.
"Do you remember the time I was gone, James?"
"A little. I remember how sad mama was. I always wondered why she was so sad. I thought it was because of Henry or Darnley. But I didn't know that not having a Papa of my own was a bad thing until you came back."
He held his sons tighter, feeling guilt and regret twist his gut. "I'm sorry." he murmured. "I will make it up to you somehow, James. I know I haven't yet, but you have to know that I won't leave you or your brother or your mother again."
"Do you remember Henry at all?"
"I remember his face and that he was around mama a little, but he wasn't very nice sometimes." James paused a little, thinking. "What about the mean boy, papa?"
"What do you mean? Lola's son still isn't nice to you?"
He opened his mouth to reply, before James suddenly went quiet, refusing to respond to his fathers' soft and imploring words and touch. Their eyes fell to the opening door as a nanny and two guards came into the room.
"Imperial Majesty." the nanny said to Francis, falling into a deep curtsy. "Your highness's." she finished, standing up. "Forgive me, your highness's, but it is time for the Prince's feed. The Empress has just been awoken for it. Her highness impatiently awaits the arrival of her newborn son." the greying-blonde, green eyed nanny said.
"Of course," Francis said, taking the baby from James' arms after he had the opportunity to say goodnight and kiss him on the head. The nanny gently took Lucien into her arms, shushing him as the little boy let out whimpers of distress after finding himself in unfamiliar arms, before curtsying again. "Tell the Empress that I will put the Dauphin to bed imminently. She will see him in the morning."
"Yes, Imperial Majesty." she said. "Your grace." she bowed to them both, leaving with the Prince in her arms. The guards stood outside the door as it closed. Francis frowned, turning James on his lap so they were face to face.
"Why do you react this sullenly?" he asked. "James?" Francis asked, after attaining no reply again.
"You told me that Lola's son was put in her stomach because of you." James mumbled.
"He was."
"So, Lola's son is your son?" James asked, his big golden eyes now dark as he looked up at his father. James' nose and cheeks grew pink as he awaited his response.
"Yes, James. Your mother and I wanted to wait for you to be older, so you could understand. But that little boy is also my son."
"No!" James cried out, suddenly starting to thrash in his fathers' embrace. Francis was caught by surprise, but held tight until the fight had drained. Once again, just like Mary.
"He cannot be!" James wailed, his words slurred with tears and childish tiredness and emotion. "He is trying to take you from me and mama and now Lucien!" James sobbed.
"He isn't, James. I promise I won't ever leave you three." Francis tried to say, but his eldest heir clinging to him cut off any words he was about to say.
"You did once before! And that little boy is so mean to everybody! You keep leaving me and mama for him! No more, Papa! No more!" James cried out.
"No more." Francis quietly said into James' hair. "No more." he promised, kissing his head. But although James heard his father, he didn't listen to him.
"You do! Every time that little boy is mean, you go to him and leave me! You and mama always fight about him and Lola! No more!"
"James, I promise I won't leave you again. Even if that little boy is around, I'll still be here."
"No! Do what mama says! Send them away again! Don't let mama be sad and don't let him be mean! Papa, please!"
"It's not that easy, James."
"It is!"
"I know you don't understand, but that little boy is only here because he wishes to be around me as much as you do. When people thought I was in heaven, I was really raising him. He had grown attached to me because of it."
"So you're going to make mama sad and me and Lucien lonely just because you love that boy that gets whatever he wants? Papa, that's not nice!" James wailed.
"I know. And I won't do that, son. I don't keep him here to hurt you all, I have him see me occasionally because he is my son."
"So am I! So is Lucien!"
"You are, just as much as John is." James sniffled. "I don't love him more than I do you or Lucian. I feel a sense of responsibility because I gave him nice things, but those nice things make people not like him."
"But you and mama gave me nice things, me and Lucian."
"He is looked down upon because unlike you and your younger brother, he doesn't carry your mothers blood. He carries Lola's. And because he has, people are mean to him."
"Like how Uncle Bash is treated?" James asked, his voice cautious.
"Precisely. I gave John a title because he is my son and I wanted him to have a better life than your uncle did. But that had repercussions. Everybody knows that he is illegitimate because of it and because he is, people are mean to him. That's probably why he is so mean to everybody, because he is something they are not. He is jealous, James."
"But I tried to be nice to him, but he kept yelling and nearly hurting my cousins. I won't be nice to the boy who hurts people I love."
"He's angry at the wrong people, son. He is angry because he is also sad."
"What about mama? Have you seen how sad mama is when he is brought up?"
"Of course, James. But the pain she feels is lessened because she has given birth to you and Lucien. There's nothing I can do to make your mothers' pain go away completely, but with my love and you and your brother, we can make it as small as possible." Francis answered.
"And keep John away?"
"And keep John away." Francis tried to soothe, but he could tell James had more questions.
"What about Lola?"
"I care nothing for her, don't worry. She deserves your mothers' wrath and after the stupid things she has done for John, she is going to get it. And after, she'll always be gone. Only John will appear to see me every little while."
"Do you promise not to leave? Not to treat John and Lola above Mama and Lucien and me?"
"I promise, James."