#bash imagine

It wasn’t uncommon to be sent to live at a foreign court for months at a time, either for diplomacy or your mother’s hopes you’d find a member of the royal family wanting to marry you before she settled upon an arranged marriage. For the past month you had been left to live at the French Court. It wasn’t the worst place to stay, and everyone had been kind to you, even though you were well aware that most of them only did it due to wanting to keep face rather than out of the kindness of their heart.

In the time you had been there, you had become fond of Bash. He seemed to be the only one who was genuine with you, not trying to impress you in hopes that you would send back words of their kindness to your parents, the King and Queen of your country. You knew that your mother would be far from impressed if she knew you were feeling anything positive towards the bastard son of the French King, but you didn’t care. You hoped he felt the same towards you, but even just having him as a friend was enough to make your time there happy.

You had made many excuses to get time to spend with him but feared outright asking him for his company. Today you were going to use a walk to justify your need to be near him.

Pulling on your long fur-lined shawl, you begun to head towards the nearest door outside, making sure he noticed you. He reached the door before you did, blocking your path outside of the palace.

“Where do you think you are going, Princess?” He questioned.

“I thought I would take a walk around the grounds. It may be cold, but they are still beautiful to see,” you explained.

His brow furrowed. “You know they are not safe for a lady to walk alone.”

You feigned shock and confusion, as though this was not something he had told you before.

“Do you suggest you be my escort?” You offered.

He shook his head, letting out a deep chuckle. “That is not what I am trying to suggest, I just do not wish for you to come to harm.”

Moving a hand to rest upon your own chest, you smiled up to him, knowing you both wished to spend time together but without one of you taking the leap, you’d be forever stuck in this cycle of awkward encounters.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were tying to seduce me,” you smiled playfully.

“And if I were?” He chuckled.

The following weeks were a series of courting events between the archduke and you. Mixed with Bash avoiding you to the best of his ability. Considering you were all over the place with Francis advising him on his problems with Mary there were stolen glances between the two of you a lot. Maximillian wasn’t the worst of the worst. He clearly was an entitled man that thought the world revolved around him. A letter had arrived from your father, and your brother sent a messenger with the word of Spain. He always kept you up to date on current events of Spain. Him and your father would never agree on anything that was the risk your mother took when she left Spain when Phillips' father died. His dozens of requests to let you grow up in Spain instead of France were denied several times by your father. Though a marriage arranged by the king of Spain would’ve been more fruitful, your father just cared that his treasury wasn’t filled by Phillip’s help.

“The view here is perfect, don’t you think?” You heard a voice say. You look back at him when you realize you had been staring out the window for what felt like a second must have been way longer. He nods as if to answer his own question. He takes a sip of his fourth glass of wine of the evening. “I am rather beginning to think you’d be a good wife.” he said, you just stare at him, not saying anything because what would you say to such a man who is only out for the title you are carrying. “Don’t you think?” he asks. You just cast him a smile. “Maybe we should question ourselves if we are a good person before we give ourselves any other title.” You answer, taking a bite of the meal. He didn’t seem happy with that answer. “You shouldn’t worry about that. Women shouldn’t get any ideas. Their mind just doesn’t work like that.” he said, your blood was boiling, the overwhelming feeling to speak your mind crept up on you eventhough you had been keeping to yourself so carefully these past few weeks. You restrain yourself from snapping at him. “Is that so?” you ask, you start to toy around with the peas on your plate to avoid your inner anger. “Yes, all a woman needs to worry about is to make her man happy, and provide him with children.” he said, This is something that has been told to you for years. A woman’s task is to provide him with children, sons, and are used as pawns in their political games. You get up from your seat to say something, to contradict him but it wouldn’t be of any use. “I’m feeling unwell, my lord. I should call it an early night.” You say instead. You walk towards the door which was behind Maximillian. He stood up and grabbed your wrist, and tightened his grip. “Not yet.” He said, he had a sly smile on his face. You tried to rip your hand from him but it was too tight. “I’ve been patient for weeks now.” He said, pushing you backwards against the wall. You gasp out of pain of your back hitting something of metal on the wall. With all his weight he kept you pinned against the wall. “Let me go!” you hissed at him.  “Go ahead, scream. Nobody wants a touched princess.” He hissed back. He pressed his lips against yours forcefully entering his tongue into your mouth. You did the only thing you could imagine in panic, biting his tongue hard. He let out a loud groan,  yanking his mouth away from you letting your hand go to touch his lips.  Giving you the chance to push him off you, and run towards the door. “You’ll be mine soon enough.” You heard him yell after you. 

In your panicked state you ran past a hook in the wall ripping part of your dress but in the dark you didn’t want to stray far from the walls. It was so quiet, and now you wonder how long you had actually been inside with Maximillian. The two of you had been dining late today because you were out in the garden with your ladies, at least that is what you told him. You had been with Francis on the archers practice field. But, you couldn’t imagine it being so late that the servants had dampened the lights. You finally reach Francis’s room,  you carefully knock on his door, when he doesn't answer your knock you assume he must not have returned yet or has already gone to sleep. You walk to the back of the castle to where Bash’s room is. You’ve never even been inside his room. Unlike with Francis’s you didn’t knock. You carefully stepped inside, of course this was at the risk of seeing him in some unholy position with a girl to forget about you. But, the risk of someone seeing you waiting outside his door for him was scarier and riskier. Bash was under the covers already asleep. You stepped closer to his bed. You carefully touch his bare shoulder. His reflexes took the knife he had on the side of his mattress and held it to your neck. “It’s just me.” you whisper. He let go of the knife, and rubbed his hand over his face. “What is it?” He asked kindly. You burst into tears, Bash sat up. He looked at you. “What happened?” he asked worriedly.  He quickly stood up, and put on a shirt to cover his bare chest. “He was so forceful, a-and he wanted more.” You tell him. You had to be careful with your words, telling him was at risk of him looking at you like broken goods, used goods. This was Bash, and you needed to trust yourself that he wouldn’t. “I’m scared, Bash.” you cried. You couldn’t even look Bash in the eyes anymore instead you stare at the ground. Within seconds you felt his arms around your shoulders grabbing you tightly. “I won’t let him hurt you.” he said, but you knew that was a lie. You were Maximillian’s in a couple of weeks. You push Bash away, some part of you was still upset with him. “You can sleep here tonight.” He said, you nod. “Thank you.” you said. After you sat down on the bed leaving the two of you in silence. “Can you help with my corset?” you ask.  You held your breath as he untied it, you were scared his touch would set something off in you. The feeling of panic didn’t let you go. When you were covered under the sheets in your undergown. Bash sat down on the chair that was near his bed.“You are just going to sit there all night?” you ask shakily. He didn’t have a pity look in his eyes, instead there was something comforting. “I am going to sit here as long as it takes.” He said, you frown at him. “For what?” you ask. “for you to feel safe.” He said, normally you’d laugh and say he was being an idiot. But, not tonight.

Francis II

As king, Francis is often surrounded by the guard and he can never get a moment alone with you. To see you across the table or at the end of the corridor and not being able to touch you is killing him. So he retires early to his chambers one night and sneaks out to see you, leaving his unknowing guards by his bedroom door. Bribing one of the maids into secrecy, he smuggles the makings of a picnic from the kitchen before going to meet you out by the lake’s edge—where he knows you go to escape. He surprises you, dropping down beside you with the basket, that smile of child-like innocence on his face. The two of you enjoy the picnic, talking about less complicated things than politics or the juicy gossip from court. You tell him about your home, who you were as a child. He says he’d like to visit with you one day—you say you’ll take him.

Bash de Poitier

His new title of “King’s Deputy” keeps Bash busy most of the time, and by the end of the day, he usually just wants to crash. You know he feels bad, but it’s exhausting—what he does. So you decide to help him. You run to the stables and ready your own horse, before mounting and going to meet him at the entrance of the castle. His eyes light up when he sees what you were aiming to do, but he assures you that he’s not working today. Instead he climbs up behind you on your horse, and the two you take off across the open fields of France. You don’t know how long you ride, but when you stop, you no longer recognize the surroundings. You’ve reached an open meadow full of bright wild flowers dotting across the horizon. Bash helps you dismount, and then hands you his sword. You brighten as you he holds you from behind, showing you how to wield it. After you get the hang of it, he takes out a dagger of his own and you two spar as silhouettes on the sunset.

Leith Bayard

The two of you act like the oldest of friends. Whenever you get a chance, you make trouble for each other. You’ll leave little trails for him to follow, aiming to confuse him into giving up and asking you straight out. He’ll interrupt any conversation you try to have with anyone, even if could get you both in a load of trouble. He words himself trying to make you blush, and you challenge him with seemingly innocent quips. It’s usually you who loses, as he’s just so charming. But those rare moments when you beat him—those make you feel invincible.

Stéphane Narcisse

Aside from the smirks from across the room or the brush of a touch as you pass each other in the hall, you and Narcisse haven’t had any time together for a long time. You have to keep up appearances: keep your mouth shut where you’re opinion doesn’t belong, engage in polite conversation with the person next to you, smiling at their flirtations. But seeing one grab your arm and pull you close—he snaps. Narcisse makes a beeline for you, yanking you away from them and out of the room. He doesn’t stop until you’re in an abandoned corridor. His eyes bore into yours; you’re breathing shallow and heavy. He orders you to stop teasing him, that you smiling at someone else isn’t okay. Instead you tip your lips to his ear and whisper, “Let the games begin.”

Henry II of France

It’s hardly state secret what you and Henry do behind closed doors, but it’s the moments you share in the open that you cherish the most. The light touches, the bright smiles, the way his eyes hold yours. He can’t tell you much. Your situation is complicated and fragile, but it never feels that way. And you never mind being the one to fill conversation, because he always listens with such intent. You wonder what kind of king he could have been if everyone had seen that side of him. But despite it all, you love the man he is now, because if everyone had seen him that way, you’d never have him.

Louis Condé

Lord Condé was never entitled like the rumors of the family assured. It was refreshing to meet a royal who didn’t just view everyone else as pawn pieces. In fact, the very concept of the game made his head spin. You grew up playing it with whoever lost a bet to you, so teaching Condé seemed an easy task—It wasn’t. But it was rather amusing. The poor man refused to place any of his pieces in the line of fire, instead preferring to spend the entirety of the game running away from your pieces. You couldn’t really blame him. You were the best at the game.