haha.. i wrote a thing. it is bad but it works.
When first struck by the hate-filled blade of his Uncle, Francis cried out. He cried to all who would hear him. He begged the Lady to judge him fairly, he begged the Sun to forgive his transgressions. Pathetic whining and prayers were all that he could muster and so he lay there, in Valiant's shrine, begging for mercy.
He was torn from the shrine and dragged across the cathedral's floor. There his prayers were met and answered with fiery fury. Only, it was not quite the response he had hoped for, in his heart of hearts. James stood, untouched, whilst his faith was sundered by the burning justice of the very Sun he begged for help.
And so, his cries were no longer a frenzy of devoted prayer, they were instead fueled by pain and despair. The very object of his faith had shamed him publicly. For She favoured a heretic over him and this was unacceptable.
No more did Francis seek reconciliation with the Sun. No longer did he wish for just and fair judgement. He had seen what was coming for him in the void and he wept. For days, all Francis could do was weep.
In the throes of his curse, he rocked back and forth. Spikes of searing pain seethed through him, coursing out from his back. Unceasing, never-ending and eternal. He barely slept for the pain and the weeping kept him awake. He clawed at his face, his arms and at the very stone of his cell, anything to try and distract himself from the ever-present punishment that he was damned to endure. Nothing worked.