#bash one shot

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.

Another call of, "A visitor, your highness," came through your door. Your room was smaller than you were used to, and not so lavishly decorated as you'd imagine France gave to respected visitors. But it was more your style - you'd never much liked the life of royalty. As your father's only child, though, you were doted upon in your own country like you were already running it, and all your friends were only friends for your protection. You knew they'd turn once your future rule turned sour, knew they'd abandon you when the royal life ruined you, as it did every monarch.

And of course, it annoyed you that you had to have guards stand outside your door all day every day, and that no one could just knock on the door and walk in for themselves.

Though, now in France where you weren't particularly well liked, you were rather glad for them.

"Who is it?" You called out, setting aside the letter you were writing to your father to let him know you'd been received and given a room and a meal.

"Sebastian de Poitiers, your highness."

Your brows furrowed - you'd never heard of any Sebastian de Poitiers before. Clearly not a Lord. You stood and made sure you had a clear passage to the sharp fire poker should you need it. "Send him in."

As soon as you saw those ice eyes, some kind of pleasant, peaceful surprise settled in your chest. He seemed so earnest, and so gentle compared to any other Frenchman you'd met thus far.

At the sight of his gentle smile and bow, you returned the smile and turned to the guard that followed him in. "You may leave us."

"Your highness, your father forbade us to leave you with any Frenchman-"

You met his eye. "Leave us." A short bow of his head and he was gone. You were relieved. Besides, you knew where the fire poker was.

"Your highness," spoke the man before you, "I wanted to welcome you to our castle. I trust the people here have not been so warm to you." He had a small chuckle in his voice.

You returned the humour, "Not unless warm means cold in France." His smile broadened, and so did yours. "Who are you, if I may ask?"

There was a light hesitation. "I am Sebastian de Poitiers, your Grace. Oldest son to King Henry."

Your eyes narrowed, and you took a small step towards the fireplace. "But Francis is the dauphin, you cannot be the oldest son of the King."

"Oh, but I am, your Grace, don't be frightened," he urged, clearly picking up on your fear and noticing the way you moved towards the fireplace. "I am the King's bastard son, my mother is his partner."

You squinted at him, with his wide eyes and hands held up. You blinked, "Then why didn't you just say so?"

His lips thinned and his eyes dropped, "No one likes to introduce themselves as a bastard on a first meeting, especially not to royalty. We're considered an insult."

You chuckled, coming closer to him, much more relaxed to know exactly who he was. "You are no insult to me, Sebastian. I should rather be a bastard than an heir."

At your words, he slipped around the desk to better speak to you, barely an arm's length away. "How could you say that? A bastard's life is no life."

Peering into his eyes carefully, a knowing smile lit your face. "You're lying. You agree."

He broke the eye contact and let out a low laugh. "That obvious, hm?"

"Very obvious. You smell of freedom."

"I smell of horses."

"One and the same."

He licked his lips to speak, a light to his eyes that excited you, but bit on his lip instead. "What is it?" You asked. "What were you going to say?"

His lips curled upwards, and you identified the light in his eyes as nothing but the joy of life. "Would you like to ride with me?"

"Ride with you?"

"That is what I said."

It'd be a lie to say you weren't tempted. "And how do you ride, Sebastian? Where do you go?"

His face lit up and he placed his hand lightly between your shoulder blades, bringing you towards the window, where the warm midday light shone through, over the castle grounds. "On the other side of this forest, there's a path that takes you towards the mountains, and then to the river's edge. Follow the current and there's a small village with an inn that serves the best food outside the castle. Perhaps much better than what they've been giving you here. It's not too long of a ride, we could make it there and back within a day."

When he turned to look at you, his smile wide and eyes bright, your breath was a little stolen. He was truly charming, cheeky, and gentle all at once. You'd always been good at reading people, and supposedly so had he. There was no hiding anything from each other, you came to realise when he remarked, "You can say you want to come. I'll show you the real France." He had that laugh in his eyes, and you couldn't hide the smile it gave you.

"And what would I, a foreign royal, do in real France? With peasants?" Your tone playful, you leant against the window ledge before him, and it was then you realised how close you were.

He was amused, but his voice lowered as he leaned towards you ever so slightly. "Don't talk like one of them. You're not."

Your head tilted to the side at the force he used with those words. It was sweet, really, that he believed he understood you already. "You met me moments ago. That's a rather bold claim, bastard."

A low chuckle. Heavy eyes. "I'm a rather bold man, your Highness."

Perhaps he did understand you.

With a laugh, you stepped away from him to stand beside the window once again. "I like you, Sebastian."

"Bash."

You blinked. "Sorry?"

He shrugged, gaze on the landscape. "Sebastian. Bash. Call me Bash."

You arched a brow. "Very well, Bash," you tried, and stood closer to his side, sharing the view of the gardens. "Show me real France."

A few days later and you were deep in real France with Bash, who you could swear looked at you like no man ever had. There was a deep rooted trust between the two of you, and although it could be easy for him to have arranged an assassination now you were out of the castle and in the open, you had no worry at all that he'd ever do such a thing.

And he didn't. Only pleasant conversation, protection, and his encouragement when you mentioned your sudden, unroyal desire to climb a tree.

You were having the most fun you'd had since you were a child.

Eventually, you happened upon the little village Bash had told you about. “Here, just up ahead,” he nodded to where the trees were starting to thin. You could hear the life through the gaps, the chattering and laughing and bells hanging around the necks of cattle.And you slowed.

“Are you sure this is safe, Bash?” You called to the man up ahead, and he looked back at you, noticing how tightly you held the reins and how slow you were travelling.

“I'm sure,” he nodded back to you, a small smile on his lips. “The people here are friendly, and they haven't seen your portrait. They will only know you as my company, a lady of the court.”

You tried to let his words soothe your apprehension, but you couldn't help but hold on to that fear. In a country where people hated you, it was fear that kept you away from these situations. It was fear that kept you alive.

Bash understood your conflict, and with a small smile lead his horse back to you. Now before you, he reached out and took your hand in both of his, ever so gently. “I understand your hesitation, but believe in me. I would never let anything hurt you. I'd give up my life to keep that from happening.”

“You'd what?”

“It doesn't mean I really want to, I'll try and avoid dying,” he chuckled, “But I would, without question.”

And then some odd desire overcame him, and he found his lips pressed lightly to the back of your hand.

And it was intoxicating. The feeling of your skin on his lips, despite being only your hand, burned a desire into his mind that he wanted to kiss you more, kiss you for real. Here, in real France.

So he took your face in his hands, and that's what he did.

Part 2.

To be Queen was a daunting thought, even though you were princess from birth it had never truthfully sunk in that you were the one to be ruling over your country. After your parents had died, your uncle had taken over the duties that would be yours, waiting until you were to be an adult and capable of ruling by yourself.

In light of your upcoming coronation, you had been sent to speak with dignitaries across Europe to not only settle your name as queen to be seen by all but to also find your possible future husband and prince consort. Your last stop before heading back to your home nation was the French court. Henry and Catherine welcomed you with open arms, unlikely for your benefit but rather that it showed them as useful to your country. The people of your country didn’t want you to rule. There had never been a Queen before, however with the power that your country held, it benefitted France to support you as you would be able to help them if they were ever in a tight spot.

You had been there for a fair while, and although you honestly would have rather been at home in your country, there was something- rather someone- that made you want to stay in the French court. From day one the bastard son of the king had caught you eye and now months into your visit and secret courting you were now having to tell the king what was going to happen.

As expected, they weren’t happy.

“That cannot be,” Catherine yelled in annoyance, raising from her throne.

“I do not allow it,” Henry added.

Bash held onto your hand to reassure you that his father and step mother were overreacting, however you knew that was the case and hoped that they would just give in soon enough.

“The bastard son marrying a princess,” Catherine scoffed. “It is unheard of. It will destroy your reputation and ours. Who could take you seriously in this?”

It was enough to push you over the edge. You dropped Bash’s hand, giving him a sympathetic smile before flattening out your skirt in an attempt to make yourself seem more presentable to assert your princess responsibility.

“Frankly your highness, I do not believe you have any say in this decision,” you stated firmly.

“Y/N-“ Henry started but you cut him off.

“I think you’ll find it is Princess Y/N. And I am to be Queen. No arranged marriage was prepared for me, therefore I am able to pick whomever I wish to marry. I happen to wish to marry your son. He may not have a title and he may be considered a disappointment in your eyes but I love him. I love Sebastian. I am not one of your subjects. You have no control over my decisions. If you still have issue to this then I apologise greatly and I shall leave, I shall leave with Sebastian at my side,” you frowned.

Both of them looked rather shocked by your words. Since you had been at the French court you had seemed somewhat submissive, so you standing up for what you believed and wanted was out of the ordinary. Not wanting to hear what they said, you took Bash’s hand once more leading him out of the room.

“You didn’t have to do that Princess-“

“Do not refer to me as Princess Y/N,” you said softly. “I am not your princess, I am to be your wife, and we shall rule my country whether that removes ties with France or not.”

He couldn’t help but smile at you.

“I do love you, with all my heart,” he smiled.

Storms unnerved you. They hadn’t for the whole of your life until your daughter was born. From birth she would cry through the storms and wouldn’t sleep a wink. As she got older, she’d became less tearful from storms but would still be incapable of sleeping unless she was with your or your husband Bash.

You had agreed with Bash that you two would stop going to her room when there was a storm to attempt to help her face her fears. However if she came to your room you would both console her.

It broke your heart to know she was suffering in fear, but you couldn’t allow her to just settle with a fear that would make an appearance on a regular basis. You knew Bash felt the same, but if this was to work you’d both have to stick together and not break.

However within the sounds of the rain and wind you could hear quick light feet scramble through the hallway into your room along with a soft whimper.

“Y/D/N?” You called out weakly.

As another flash of lightning and a rumble of thunder arrived, you saw the shocked face of your daughter quiver in front of you.

“Are you okay honey?” You asked sitting up in your bed.

“I’m scared,” she whimpered.

“Do you want me to tuck you back in?” You smiled softly although you were pretty sure she couldn’t see your face.

“Can I sleep with you and father?” She whispered.

You let out a soft laugh. You knew that was what would happen and you didn’t mind.

“Of course sweetie.”

As she climbed onto the end of the bed, you nudged your husband awake. He let out a grunt.

“Huh?”

“Bash. Y/D/N, was woken up by the storm she wants to sleep in here,” you said softly.

Y/D/N crawled under the covers so she was lying in between you and Bash. You could now feel that she was shaking, possibly from running through the cold halls or from the fear of the storm.

“It’s okay Y/D/N. The storm can’t hurt you. When you are inside the storm is no match for the walls around you. And your mother and I will always protect you,” Bash said moving closer to you.

You wrapped your arms around your daughter as Bash draped an arm over you both.

“I love you Mother. I love you Father,” she whispered.

“I love you too,” Bash smiled.

Luckily soon enough he returned handing you the glass of wine he had gone to retrieve, taking his seat next to you.

“Thank you,” you whispered taking a sip from the cup.

“You’re welcome my love. Are you okay? You look as though you are going to pass out,” he smiled softly taking you hand in his, rubbing his thumb soothingly over your palm.

“It is just pleasant to call you my husband. I also do not feel worthy of being your wife, but I shall not argue with the fates decision to allow me to spend my eternity by your side. It just makes me feel uneasy to be sat in a room with the royal family of France. When I came here, I never believed I would marry the son of the King,” you sighed, allowing your smile to grow throughout.

He let out a laugh, pulling you closer to him.

“My love, I do not feel worthy to be your husband. You are too dear and precious to be the wife of the bastard child of the king. But I love you, and I am glad you came to France, as if you were not previously one of Mary’s ladies-in-waiting we would not have ever met,” he smiled.

You had been one of Mary’s ladies-in-waiting along with Greer, Lola, Kenna and Aylee, and had joined her to France for her marriage to the king. But when you arrived at the French court you met the King’s illegitimate son, and instantly fell in love.

Now long after leaving your home in Scotland you were now married to Bash. Happy. In love.

“My family are more than happy that I married into the court of France. At first they were not happy for me to marry a bastard, but they agreed with it after they heard of my lady’s previous interest in marrying you, they were happy with it,” you smiled, “I don’t know what I would have done if they forbade the marriage.”

He leaned in pressing his lips to your cheek.

Your husband held onto one of your hands using his other one to dab a cloth on your sweating forehead.

Childbirth had always feared you, many women died, many infants died. You did not want to die and you certainly did not want you child to die as well as you or instead of you.

Your husband cooed softly trying to distract you from the pain, but his attempts were futile.

“I don’t think I can do this,” You groaned trying to fight the tears that were building up in your eyes.

He leaned down kissing your forehead stroking your slightly damp hair.

“I don’t think you get a choice, my love,” he whispered, “But you can do it, I know you can.”

“Bash, why do you have so much hope in me?” you groaned, looking up at him with sorrow filled eyes.

“Because I love you,” he smiled, “And think of it my love, soon we are going to be holding our child in our arms, we will be a family.”

You tried to smile at your husband but the pain was excruciating you couldn’t just smile and act as if you were fine- you weren’t.

“I cannot wait for us to be a family Bash, I am just unsure how I am going to survive this. This is worse than I could have ever fathomed,” you said with shaky breaths.  

“I know Y/N, I know. But it will end soon. It will be worth it, and soon enough we will be a perfect family. We can even find a new home. My Father will not be happy for us to leave the court, but he will give us the money to buy a home for us, a home for our family,” he whispered.

You nodded with a pained expression.

“Living at the French court is pleasant but I wish to have our own home. I am not from money, living a life of luxury feels wrong. I wish for our child to live humbly, to be able to visit the court but not have to rely on a life as the Grandchild to the King of France,” you whispered.

He kissed your forehead again.

“It is fine my love. Our child will not live a life you do not wish they do. We will be happy, wherever you desire to be,” he smiled.