#leith preference

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.