Tu Es Ma Lumière

92 - Brotherhood

(I'm switching up the timeline for this one, folks. In this little Frash brotp piece, Mary's been raped and still suffers from the trauma that had upon her (like what was shown with Greer at that party) but Kennash has already separated because of Kenna's need for more, things that Sebastian can't give her. And the thing with Antoine has already played out. Super weird, but try and keep track!)

Times were hard for the King of France. A premature rule mangled with strife and near civil war upon multiple occasions, becoming nothing but a nobleman's puppet for the first months of his reign that was supposed to be so different to that of his parents'. Pushing his wife away to the point where she nearly fell into the arms of another man, that same man being a husband to her in all but body and contract. He had worked so, so hard to finally release himself from under Narciesse's thumb. But, it was just a few hours too late. Because that same wife, the one who he had been doing all of this to protect from his own mistakes now lay in her old rooms, ripped apart and traumatised, scarred and beaten, a fragile little bird in the place of the fierce raven she had once been. 

"How is he?" Bash asked his brother as the two of them sat nursing from a wine bottle gifted to them by their brother in law, Phillip of Spain, after a small rising on the Spanish-French border had been put down by the Spanish and French military, in an effort to turn the conversation toward lighter notes. The two eldest recognised sons of King Henry II of Valois had been sitting here for hours, drinking from that bottle and bemoaning of their lives and marriages. With Mary's trauma far from seen through and Francis' helplessness to help her, and Kenna's intrigue with King Antoine of Navarre with Sebastian's helplessness to stop it, the two brothers were far from the carefree boys they had been just two years ago.

The blonde King of France blinks slowly, as if coming back to life from a long slumber that lasted over half a day. He cocked his head like a child at his brother, taking another gulp of the wine. "Hmm?" he hummed obliviously, blinking slowly at him again.

Sebastian smiled slightly, noting how childlike his brother and King appeared at this moment. "Your son," he coaxes, desperate to turn the conversation from Francis' damaged little dove of a wife, or the ambitious, vain siren of a wife that he had. Speaking of the child, Sebastian noted that he didn't get to see the young baby much anymore. He simply didn't have the time, with his duties to the crown becoming something of cold comfort after the breakdown of his marriage. Although whenever he remembered to, Sebastian did make the effort to visit him as much as he could. Sebastian knew the lonliness that the life of a royal bastard had, even if the child sired by the Queen's husband and Lady was far too young to understand it yet. 

For a moment, the Baron de Portiers thought he saw the ghost of a smile appear upon Francis' face. But the moment he saw it, it was gone again, replaced by a more obvious frown. Francis let out a sigh, an exhausted one, one that made his elder half brother weary of what the young King may let slip when he wasn't exactly sober.

"He's-" he trailed, obviously trying to choose the right words to say to his half brother. Not that he needed to, of course. They had been through too much for pretence. "He's perfect, Bash." Francis chose. "You should see the way mother dotes upon him with Lola." now, his eyes changed into something more remorseful. "I'm surprised at that, though. You'd think that she'd have nothing to do with him, 'cause he's you. And I'm father, and Mary's her. But no," he let out a self depreciating chuckle. "she does upon him like she never did with the youngest she has, Margot and Hercules. He's going to be the most spoiled child in France at this rate." he chuckled. "I wish I could spend more time with him." he said, now sad. Bash blinked again.

"You're the King, Francis. King of two countries, even. Perhaps a third if Elizabeth dies without an heir. He'll know you love him, even if you're not around as much as you'd like to be." he finished. Francis nodded absentmindedly.