Tampered Beauty

Intensity

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.