Tampered Beauty

Metamorphosis

"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.