#Sebastian De Poitiers x reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

black-dhalias · 8 months

Note

Hiii I really appreciate ur writing and I would like to make a request for a reader and bash from reign smut where u use the quote “ are u a virgin? But how?” And “ are u scared?”

Little Bird

Bash De Poitiers X F!Reader

Warning: SMUT, language, mentions of arranged marriages

History is not written by the forgotten because history is only written by the heroes, the survivors, the victors. In a world full of royals, kings and queens and countries-- only the strongest will be remembered. All others will fall.

You are far from the young girl who visited the French Court those years ago; now, you are a queen and while country thrives under your rule, you are known as ruthless. You move with purpose, your own guards not far behind you as you walk towards the throne room-- ignoring the whispers of the familiar walls. The memories that cling to every crevice of this palace. When you left, you left suddenly in the night, having received a letter from your mother-- dead. Your father was dead and so was your brother, and you were now queen and immediately required back in Genovia.

You slip between the halls, your hand tugging Bash along with you, as you look back and smile. Perhaps too much of your time centers around your time with the bastard son of King Henry, but something about him is too interesting to ignore. While Mary Queen of Scots is constantly surrounded by her ladies, the princess of Genovia is often feels ignored by her French allies. Not even first in line to your throne, it seems as though King Henry views you as dead weight, but not Bash.

With him at your side, you felt as though you had a friend in this court of lies and deception, and villains. "Sebastian-- c'mon." You whisper shout, urging him to move faster and keep up with you as you slip into one of the secret passages. Once the door slips closed behind you, Bash holds your hand a little tighter as if to keep you from slipping away into the dark tunnels. Outside of Nostradamus, you are most familiar with the French palaces secret tunnels and Bash knew if you disappeared, you'd get away from him. But the his slight pull was a shock, one you were unprepared for and moved backwards into him.

You try not to show the fear that bubbles inside of your chest, being back here seems to bring back every thought. Every struggle. The pain and the happiness, and it makes it difficult to concentrate on the task at hand. However, when the throne room doors open and you see him immediately. No amount of preempted focus could have brought you back because he is exactly how you remember. Only now, he is married and you are queen, which change everything, but looking at him... You feel as though nothing has changed, not him, not you, and not your feelings for him.

There is a shocking hmph as you bump into his chest, but you do not move and neither does he; instead, you feel his hand slip down to rest on your waist while the other rests on your neck. Through the darkness you see his eyes shut, the warmth of his hands and then there is his lips. Soft and sweet, and just as warm as you had imagined; although you know this is far from okay, so what? It feels right enough.

However, you bring yourself back to reality as quickly as you can manage and smile at the newly crowned King Francis. "Sorry I couldn't make it to the coronation-- long may you reign." He nods and gives a little smile, coming down from the throne and you see your guards tense up at the sudden movement. "Oh please, I don't think he wants one of his first acts as King to be starting a war." Neither of them relax despite your whisper to them, but you accept the embrace of Francis and pull away smiling.

"Well you made it now." You nod, giving a little shrug.

"I felt as though us both being relatively new to our thrones, we should talk about continuing the French and Genovian alliance." Scanning your eyes across the throne room, you see Mary—you see Catherine and others you recognize, but it's all a cover so you have an excuse to look at him again. He stands at the right hand side of the King's throne, the King's deputy, which makes sense. You make a note of the woman to his right though. Pretty little thing.

Where you were, Bash always seemed to find his way to your side—whether riding, walking through the grounds, or dancing as you are now. Being a princess means suitors, which pleases your mother, but displeases you: "So Princess, what do you think about French weather being from such a cold land?" You raise an eyebrow as he spins you, and with as much grace as you can muster, you come back to him and give a rather forced smile.

Perhaps petty, you begin to lead, which gives him a little shock-- his footing begins to slip up and he stumbles to keep up with you: "Well, for your information, Genovia is south of France, so I'd say your weather is quite cold, you..." Maybe for the best, Bash is tapping on the counts shoulder and he happily hands you off to Bash. You puff out a breath, irritation still bubbling in your stomach and begging to be released.

"Ignore them..." You bite the inside of your cheek as Bash twirls you around the floor, completely at ease and you follow his steps effortlessly. Familiar with how he moves, how he dances; you'd say you were pretty familiar with everything about him.

"How do they expect to court me, if they don't even know where my country is? Honestly, it's just disgraceful." He gives a little laugh, twirling you quickly before bringing you back in, but this time much closer.

"Well the longer I have you here, the better." His comment, rather than comfort, strikes a little nerve.

"You know, I've had a thought. Why don't you marry me?" You two haven't really spoken about the idea, having mutually decided it just would not work out, but now... now you think otherwise.

Francis nods approvingly, "I think that is a fitting thought." He holds out his arm to you, "Shall we?" You finally find clarity in the fact that Bash is now married and nod, taking Francis's arm. As he guides, you pass by Bash and you pause slightly, biting your lip before smiling at him.

"Congratulations on your marriage, Sebastian." Unlike everyone else, you called him by his name to irritate him and at some point, he began to find it endearing. You see the familiarity in those eyes, but it is only a second as he gives a tight smile and Francis continues to lead you towards one of the studies. You always thought that when you returned, he'd still be there waiting and maybe, just maybe—you could finally have that wedding.

Some part of you is angry at yourself for saying anything at all, and Francis must have noticed because he speaks up. "Don't be too hard on him, or yourself, I'll explain in more detail later, but he didn't have a choice in marrying Kenna." So that's her name, Kenna... That's one of Queen Mary's ladies, although she has grown quite a bit. So have you...

"Well when is a marriage ever a choice in French court." You try to make light of it, your own suffering, joking although there is a bitter truth to the comment. When you get inside of the small room, Francis and you spend quite a while discussing the politics of trade and possibility, but then conversation shifts to your marriage.

"A little bird told me you have a marriage alliance of your own blooming, with my distant Italian relatives.” Your smile tightens and Francis’ brow furrows, your reaction seeming to confuse the new King. “Not a marriage I assume.”

“A necessary one.” You pinch the top of the figures that represent a horse, and glance down at the map. Before placing the horse just east of Genovia, on the Italian border. “There’s an Italian stronghold near this border, there’s been attacks on farms from Italian peasants. If I marry an Italian, specifically a member of this family—then I stand a chance at protecting them.” You swallow, “Just another reason to bolster a French alliance, you’ll learn quickly that only displays of power can protect your country.”

Francis nods, smiling sadly at his old friend—someone he cared for deeply all those years ago. “Well, do not worry—France is not an enemy of Genovia, and under my rule, you have no need to question our honesty.” Gratefulness fills the pit of your stomach, the one that had only seemed to grow as you stayed in French Court. Every hour chipped away at your inner self.

Negotiations with Francis went quick, the grimey politics melted away as you simply spoke with your friend. It made it better, and much simpler meeting than these tended to be amongst royal agreements. He asked for very few things, but mainly that despite you being a protestant nation—you remain loyal to France and Scotland, rather than England.

It was easy to agree to such a simple request.

However, the walk to your rooms is not as long as it once was—Kings and Queens are housed exuberantly, but you used to live so far from it all. You miss those days sometimes. These walls hold so many stories. You were almost unaware of the steps following you, or how his hand felt on your waist as it pulled you in. Or how familiar his sterling eyes were as you looked up at him. While you think of pulling away completely, you are not able to bring yourself to do so.

"You are more beautiful than I remember." Only the walls do not speak, and neither do you. Not even as he runs his hand along your cheek. You are frozen, recalling every memory and knowing that the familiarity is built into his touch. "I did not believe God chose Kings and Queens until I saw you in the throne room." Even standing next to his wife, his next words are bittersweet. "Y/N, you are an angel amongst mortals." Something snaps back into place as you push him away, shaking your head.

"No. Absolutely not. Sebastian, you are married and I do not have time for petty affairs." You reconcile your dignity and stiffen your lip, you are Queen. By your own birthright, and loss.

"Admit it, you feel it too." He steps towards you, and you go back, never breaking eye contact. Knowing that the way he seemed to flinch, your movement to get away hurt him. It hurt you too. "You're more than a petty affair to me, Y/N. You've never been anything less."

You fold your arms over themselves, shaking your head. "I am a reigning Queen... Chosen by God, and revered by my people. You said so yourself." The last bit is more pointed. "I am not an affair, or a passing moment." You pause. "Not even for you."

With that, you leave him alone in the hall and retreat to your room. To wonder what would have been, what could still be, and how it's a terrible idea to linger on the past.

The next days are long, you can hardly wait to go home. You missed the grandeur of French Court a long time ago, but now it does not feel like home. It is too much.

You bid farewell to Francis and Mary, "I believe next year, we'll be travelling to see you." You smile, knowing all eyes are on the future. A wedding.

"Perhaps sooner." Just as you step into the carriage, you glance up at the balcony to see Sebastian. To see him watching you. Your soft smile sends his heart into a flurry of confusion and certainty. Even when the carriage leaves his view, he knows one thing: he would do anything to be your husband.

A warm summer breeze touches your cheeks, it dusts your nose and your smile grows. To be married, it seems so much more distant than it should. You should be giddy, but your future King Consort is nowhere near the one you imagine.

"One more night..." You wonder if you could run now, turn your back on the wedding and just leave. Find another way to protect your country against all odds.

You breathe out deeply, grasp the handles of the balcony doors and shut them tight. Ignoring the arrival of the French convoy, knowing that it would not just be the King and Queen of France in attendance.

Francis had tried to convince Bash to not come, to not torture himself further with the image of you marrying another. To not let him torture you. But the bastard was insistent, so much so that Francis knew it was going to come to something.

"I object..." He murmurs under his breath, it seemed to repeat over—"Wait!" He hardly remembers shouting, just that he did and all eyes turned to him. Yours wide as he moves closer. "Y/N..." He swallows. "You can't marry him." What was supposed to be your husband curses, eyes narrow and harsh. Only they do not scare Sebastian in the slightest. "You know as well as I do. We were as good as promised to each other before your brother died." There is much truth in those words, your parents had come around to the idea and so had your brother. It seemed simple, a way to keep France close and to give you this last thing.

"Silence!" The Italian is seething, chest rounding and cheeks turned a flustered and bright red.

You turn your eyes to him, "Do not command him, as that is as certain as commanding me. I am neither soldier, nor Italian. And neither is he." You pause. "This is my palace." You look at Bash, exhaling and he continues.

"I had not told you, but our fathers had contracts prepared and signed... Two kings... It took a while, but I found the original." His eyes turn to the Italian. Your eyes wide, as you hold out your hand for the parchment. "If this document is verified, then it means you can't marry him. Because you have to marry me."

It was enough to stop the ceremony, no one could condone a marriage without verifying if the will of two kings would be defied. Even dead kings have power.

You pace the hall outside of Sebastian’s chambers, every step echoes, but you do not care. An inner turmoil having found itself rooted in the pit of your stomach, to love Sebastian had been as easy as breathing. You knew him as well as you knew yourself.

“Y/N?” You jump, grasping your shaking palms together as you tuck them behind your back. Trying to seem unassuming, as if you hadn’t been at his door for some time. Only as he takes in your nerves, the way your eyes flit about—Sebastian is very aware, and smirks. The kind of smirk that used to tell you that he knew. “I was just about to go find you.”

Honestly, you believe that to be true, he seemed determined when he opened his chambers door. The way he closed the distance in two long strides, his arm snaked around your waist and pressing himself as close as possible.

So close you forgot how to breathe, wondering if you needed breath at all. Without air, your words were strained—the warmth of his hand trailing up your arm was distracting. “You could have warned me.”

“I planned to, only you never gave me a chance.” You recall sending your younger sister greeting the French carriage, shutting your door tight to keep all temptation locked away.

“I guess—” The words trail off your tongue as he begins pulling you into his chambers, and this time you do not resist. Temptation or not, Sebastian has always been just out of reach. Suddenly, he’s as close skin to skin can allow.

Breathless, you kiss him—not soft or tenderly, but desperate to know what it’s like to taste him again. To feel his lips on yours. Sharing kisses used to be frequent, but it had been so long and you had wondered if they’d taste the same.

They did. His lips were as familiar as his touch. The caress of his fingers against your body had all, but left you breathless—there was no space for air between you, nothing more than clothes.

Even those were falling away, you don’t remember his shirt disappearing or when your robe hit the floor. You don’t recall anything other than his lips, his determination to kiss every bit of skin that became visible.

“Perfection…” He hums the word as he braces you on the bed, admiring you—your bare chest and soft eyes, the way your gaze seemed to draw him in. “Absolute…” Sebastian comes closer, leaning over you, warmth surrounding. His face framed by the fire’s light. “Perfection.”

As his hands begin to run along your waist, your back arches and he lingers there—holding you close, his head bent over as he begins to kiss your neck. Letting his lips travel down as you bend into his grip, a soft moan escapes your lips.

“Don’t—” You pant, a shiver going down your body as he kisses the spot above your breast. “Don’t stop.” If your eyes were not shut, head tilted back, you wonder if you could see the ghost of his smile just as well as you feel it against you.

Sebastian pauses, “Are you—”, his lips seeming to stop as he spoke. “Are you still a virgin?” You sit up, his question taking you aback; however, comfortable you are with him. You didn’t expect him to ask so boldly.

You want this, you know that for certain—you’ve wanted him ever since you were young. Those eyes haunted your dreams, knew your own just as well as the sky knows the stars.

“Would you stop if I said yes?”

“Only if you asked… But how?” You bring yourself close, leaning forward to wrap your arms around his neck. Lips hovering above his own.

“Then it doesn’t matter if I am. Just don’t stop.” That was enough for Bash as he regained his vigor, kissing your earnestly and desperately.

You could hardly imagine anything more perfect than the way he held you. The way he embraced you. The way, you moan his name—leaning back as he lowers you onto him.

His movements slow, careful and steady, most of your weight being held in his arms as he begins to move.

“Just don’t stop.” You whisper, leaning against his body—your lips resting beside his ear, you felt his grasp tighten as he began to move more rhythmically.

AN: I definitely don’t do smut typically, don’t get me wrong. I do read it, but I am not skilled at writing it. So it’s more sensual than sexual, maybe I’ll get better in the future. But I hope you like this.

#imagines #imagine #fandom request #imagine requests #x reader #requests #love #reader insert #reign tv show #reign imagines #reign imagine #bash x reader #sebastian de poitiers #sebastian x reader #reign x reader

116 notes · View notes

hiatuswhore · 1 year

Text

Viper IV

Reputation: The Princess of Conde, said to be a lover of games. Perhaps chess, a game requiring one to think many steps ahead and anticipate your enemies next move. For every missteps brings you closer and closer to defeat.

VIPER III: Versatility

YOU NEVER KNEW FRENCH COURT TO BE SO DULL. The privy council drolling on about issues they will never resolve. No plots or ploys, you settle on a ceasefire allowing the Queen Consort a period of reprieve. You busy yourself with strolls with Sebastian and feigning interest in many high Lord's pursuits of your hand. This does not stop the Queen Mother from focusing on your every movement. Nor are you a fool to the servant in your ranks who reports to her. All information they receive perfectly curated to your liking.

Sitting at your vanity, you huff like a child on the verge of a tantrum. Whispers containing scandals so minuscule you are certain the histories will write you as the first to truly die from boredom.

“Dahlia, any news on the parchment I sent to my brother?” You ask. The shake of your handmaiden’s head garnering another huff. “He wants me to come home, but I have far too much to do here.”

“Princess, you must stop fussing so I can finish your hair,” Dahlia’s silvery voice and gentle touch gaining an apologetic smile. The light tapping of your chamber door stills your handmaiden, your head turning toward the door. Dahlia crosses the room. Opening it, she bows respectfully before lowering her gaze and stepping aside.

“My King,” You rise to your feet, a grin on your lips as you curtsy. Francis chuckles, shaking his head as you ask what you can do for him.

“My wife seems to believe you have a vendetta against her. I am no fool of the deep care you hold for your brother. This afternoon you will invite her on your evening stroll, just the two of you,” Your head tilts to the side, a wide smile taking your features, hiding the thorns beneath rosy-colored petals.

“While I admit I was not very fond, I thought to have clarified my intentions with your wife. Very well, we will have a lovely evening at once,” Clasping your hands in front of you, stepping forward, you peck his cheek. His nose grazes your cheek as he turns to meet your gaze.

“We are not children anymore. You know this is not appropriate,” His words leave him in a breathy whisper. You wet your lips, offering a warm smile.

“I meant nothing untoward, Francis. You are dear to me. I would never have you jeopardize your honor,” Only run it off a cliff, the heat of his skin warming your own at the proximity. His head tilts forward so slightly you nearly miss it as he stiffens. You pull away first, brushing past him with a knowing smirk.

The long corridor from your chambers holds a sea of faces that matter little as you make your way to the kitchens. Fetching to chalices of wine, your smiles large as Mary and Catherine’s eyes land on you. They stand in the throne room, speaking quietly amongst themselves.

“Queen Mother. Her grace. My apologies for the intrusion. I hoped to steal the Queen for a stroll. I even brought us wine,” You say, holding out the chalice. Silence dances between the three of you. Both Catherine and Mary eye the cup in your hand warily, the smile on your lips wicked. She knows she cannot refuse. To do so slights the Princess of Conde--another slight against the De Bourbon family, her kin-in-law.

“Of course, Princess,” Mary swallows thickly, her voice wavering as her fingers brush your own against the cup. She glances at Catherine a final time before joining your side. You wear a kind smile, your airy aura filling the halls. You ramble to Mary just as you do with a dear friend, noting how the chalice in her hands has stayed there.

“What a lovely day. Isn’t it lovely?” Stepping outside, you turn to Mary, her strained smile and stiff posture fueling your amusement. Catherine stands with Francis on the second-floor terrace watching the two of you.

“Very lovely indeed,” Mary mutters, following your toothy smile up the terrace. She’s greeted with differing expressions. Francis wears one of encouragement as Catherine stands as though a guillotine awaits.

“Mary, you are not very good at this game. You went to Francis of your fears, rightful fears, but now here we are. Let me help you understand your particular situation. This is a game of reputation. I very publicly invited you to wine and a stroll. The part the people do not know is that it is at the King's behest. Now imagine if word spreads, you refused my efforts for peace after all you brought upon my brother? What a lecherous cunt,” You scoff, speaking barely above a whisper, shaking your head, a smile painting your lips. Mary’s eyes narrow, her shoulders falling at her side. Stepping into the trap before it was even set.

“I am the Queen. You are my subject in my court!” The ferocity of her tone unlike anything you ever expected of her. You would have commended her in another life, but now your smile falls as you stumble back. Mary’s frown distinct as your eyes well with tears. You shift your gaze down sharply, cowering like a frightened child—the antithesis of your nature.

“My apologies, your grace. Will you excuse me?” You curtsy, wiping the faux tear from your cheek. Mary’s eyes bounce around the open grass field. Ladies and Lords alike lounge around different fixtures watching the exchange. Realization cuts through like a blade to skin, your sorrow not reaching your eyes. Oh, how this game suits you.

“Princess,” Mary breathes out, watching as you fiddle with your fingers. The comely and giving Princess standing before the aggressor, the cruel Queen.

“My apologies, your grace. I know our histories are—” You cry out, the approaching mop of blonde hair arriving with impeccable timing.

“Mary, a word,” The clench of the King’s jaw clear despite the mask of calm he wears. You offer a respectful curtsy heading back toward the castle with your head low. Inside, Catherine greets you with a sneer; taking her hands, you smile.

“I detest you. You wretched girl,” Catherine squeezes your hands tights, to onlookers a warm exchange between family. The Queen Mothers' smile as warm and deceitful as your own.

“Oh, Catherine. To hate me is to hate yourself. I learned all I know from watching you,” You lean forward, kissing both her cheeks. The softening of her glare was not lost on you before excusing yourself. Like wildfire, the word spread of your exchange; invitations of tea and strolls pouring into your chamber like water to a glass.

By noon, you receive word of a private family supper. You naturally assume it to be the workings of Francis but still consider others. While Mary navigates your game as well as a blind man at sea, you await Catherine to guide her hand. You wear a courteous smile as the hundredth invite for tea arrives, your empty promises of soon arranging a meeting becoming almost instinctive.

“(Y/n)!” Your eyes widen at the squeal. Claude rushes down the corridor, her arms wide open. She nearly tackles you to the ground in a hug, squeezing so tight it may very well suffocate you.

“Thank god! This place is so terribly boring,” You exclaim, stepping off to the side. Claude smirks. “I was so upset to learn I had just missed by mere hours the day I arrived.”

“I hear my brother's wife made you cry, and I know for certain that is not the case. You must tell me your machinations at once,” Claude whispers, leaning in close. The two of you stop at the corner, appearing like giddy children.

“That would spoil the fun dear cousin!” You say, crossing your arms and mirroring her smirk.

“The Scottish Queen is doomed then, but that must wait. We have much to catch up on,” Claude hooks her arm in your own. She leads you down the hall, her animated rambling taking the whole of the conversation as you listen intently.

“You slept with Ser Harlin?” You gasp, stopping in your tracks. The French Princess bit her bottom lip, grinning like a madwoman. She spares you not a single detail of her exploits with the pagan warrior, a burly man of few words.

“How have you not? I know, no Lord who looks like him. We must have our fun before our brothers decide to try and marry us off,” Claude says, shrugging your shoulders, your matter-of-fact tone dripped in certainty, “I believe my brother knows if he forces a husband upon me, that poor soul will not make it to our marital bed.”

“Well, if Francis makes me marry, can I count on your diligence in my indoctrination to widowhood?” Claude teases. Nodding your head, you stand straight up with a playfulness to your tone, “I swear this oath to you in perpetuity, my princess.”

“I see you two muck about once more,” Francis greets his sister with a warm hug, his eyes meeting yours with a long pause. Claude’s gaze bounces between the two of you, chuckling shamelessly.

“All these years and nothing changes. Well, you two clearly need a moment. Mother!” Claude calls out, skipping away before either of you can say a word. You bite the inside of your cheek, certain you will not lead this conversation.

“I wish to apologize on behalf of Mary,” Francis says, studying how you render your face expressionless.

“It’s clear the Queen does not seek forgiveness, but who I am to ask that of the Queen. I do not believe she likes me very much. I think I should soon leave,” You shrug your shoulders, pursing your lips. A huff leaves him, taking the bait as easily as you threw it.

“You will do no such thing. I want you here, so that is where you shall be.” Francis taking your hand in his own, the closeness intoxicating—inviting far too inappropriate for the open hall. You wet your lips, watching his eyes travel to them.

“Of course, my King.” The batting of your lashes and low hum of your voice garnering a deep sigh. Francis closes his eyes, rolling back his shoulders as he releases your hand. “Are you unwell, your grace?”

“You very well know what I am at this given second,” He tilts his head, giving you a knowing look. Leaning in closer, your pointed stare and lopsided grin doing the young King no favors.

“You are King, Francis. It is well within your right to reach for what you want. Who you want,” Placing your hand on his shoulder, you trail your pointer finger up the side of his neck and back down at a tantalizingly slow pace.

“I will not be my father,” Francis says, disappearing into his own mind before you. Your hand travels up to his cheek, pulling him back to the present, testing your limits with your thumb tracing his bottom lip.

“You could never. Far too honorable. Too good,” You draw your words out, the slow whisper and dark eyes evaporating those around you from view. The few who linger in the corridor pretend as though you both are not the center of attention. You lean up, pecking his cheek once more, resting your cheek against his, your breath tickling his ear. Your eyes on the dark mop of hair down the hall, “I am your first love. Mary shall be your last, it seems. Your grace.”

You step back, noting how he stares at you, the adoration clear as day. Curtsying, you brush past him. At the end of the hall, you stop shoulder-to-shoulder with the Scottish Queen. Her glassy staring forward as though someone has commanded it. You do not spare her glance on even turn to address her, your face now one of stone.

“Please, Princess. Ask anything of me, and it is yours.” Mary swallows thickly, her eyes on her husband's back as he continues down the hall. When he turns the corner, she turns to you, your gaze still forward.

“Your demise.”

MASTERLIST

88 notes · View notes

aphroditelovesu · 2 years

Note

Could I get a yandere Bash (from Reign) love letter?

Your Grace,

I know it's inappropriate to write you this letter and I apologize for it, but I couldn't contain my urge to do so. I couldn't and I know I can't contain my strong feelings that have been growing inside me since our meeting. Do you think about me too? No, of course not, I'm a bastard. Why would a princess/prince think of me?

But even though I know how wrong this is and that I'll probably get hurt from this whole situation, I just know that if I don't say what I feel I will regret it for the rest of my life. The truth is, I couldn't stop thinking about you after our encounter today in the throne room. I had to stop myself from going to you and confessing you right there, but I know it would be wrong and uncomfortable. We were not alone and my feelings must be directed only to you. Because my feelings are about you, only about you and you, Your Grace, are just the only one worthy of hearing them.

I just felt dizzy as soon as I saw you. I wonder why, but does it really matter? I believe not sometimes. Your confused expression was so adorable and the way your smile lit up the whole room, I felt even more in love with you. Oh, how do you do it? Are you a sorceress? I've never fallen in love with someone so quickly but now I have and I know I can't let it go. Even if you can't reciprocate my feelings, will you allow me your sworn protector? I know that no one but me can properly care for and protect you. Stay safe and please stay out of the woods.

Yours sincerely

Sebastian de Poitiers.

#yandere reign #yandere bash #yandere bash x reader #reign #love letter #yandere love letter #yandere sebastian de poitiers #yandere sebastian de poitiers x reader

53 notes · View notes

blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms · 2 years

Text

Walk- Sebastian De Poitiers

Pairing: Sebastian De Poitiers x Reader

Characters: Sebastian De Poitiers

Warnings: N/A

Request: Anon- Hi again! Can I request a Bash x fem!reader with the prompt "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to seduce me".

Word Count: 445

Author: Charlotte

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.

“I certainly could not deny you.”

#Walk #Anon #Request #Sebastian De Poitiers #Sebastian De Poitiers Imagine #Sebastian De Poitier One Shot #Bash #Bash Imagine #Bash One Shot #Reign #Reign Imagine #Reign One Shot #Charlotte

93 notes · View notes

amarauder · 2 years

Text

The Spider King and the Butterfly Princess - Sebastian de Poitiers

001. the spider king and the butterfly princess

PAIRING; Sebastian de Poitiers x Reader

REQUEST; y/n and bash were childhood best friends and randomly reunite and realize they love each other.

DATE; March 24th, 2019

WORD COUNT; 4877

WARNING; kissing, i think thats it. but as always let me know if i missed something!

A/N; this is absolute shit. i can't believe its almost been three years since i've written this. seems much longer tbh. but got into reign again and thought might as well post this on here.

TRAILER; in which the italian princess finds one bastard to have grown up a little too nicely for her choosing.

REQUESTED BY; anon

Playing chess in a moving carriage was much more difficult than what most expected. The pieces would frequently fall over and much to Y/N's displeasure, would fall down onto the floor. Thanks to Y/N's corset, getting the chessmen was annoying and hurt plenty. And just to make matters worse, her playmate and rather impatient younger brother would drum his fingers on the edge of his seat every time it took her longer than he wanted.

Now, for the fifth time, the King had fallen onto the floor and the marble had shattered. Cursing under her own breath, Y/N asked for the driver to stop for a second. Obeying her quickly, Y/N felt the carriage rest to a stop which gave her time to console her tearful brother. Y/N had wondered when he had become such a crybaby. She had never seen him cry in front of her parents, maybe Y/N shouldn't be as nice to him as she wanted too.

"Louis," Y/N pleaded grabbing his thin ankle, "Please stop crying. You'll wake up Louise." Y/N said nodding over to his twin and picking up some of the broken rock. Why Y/N's parents had named them almost the same name Y/N would never know. It was already bad enough for them to look exactly the same, only one with longer hair and a naturally scrunched up nose.

Louis sniffled and rubbed his nose. He loved his twin dearly but for some reason he choose to express that emotion in evil ways. Such as rubbing his nose boogies on Louise's face. She woke up with a start and gave her brother a glare for waking her from her slumber. Y/N silently groaned, she knew exactly what was going to happen and couldn't wait to get to the castle despite what was going to happen there. Louis willing laughed at her with a pointed finger before rubbing his disgusting antics in her face. With a trembling lip and big eyes she started to sob into Y/N's shoulder.

"Please continue, Bulstrode! I apologize for stopping so suddenly but we must hurry if we are going to get to the French Court before sundown." Y/N said before she reached out towards her brother who immediately shied away from her. "Relax, I just want your hanky. I'm not going to hit you, even if you deserve it."

Louis grinned cheekily at her, flashing his missing front teeth at her. Sometimes she hated that he was so young... and so adorable. He handed the cloth to her giving her leeway to wipe the gross mixture off of her sister's chubby cheeks. "There," Y/N said smiling down at her sister who still had tears rolling down but no more hiccups coming from her lips, "All better."

After that horrible catastrophe, the twins decided to aggravate their older sister by constantly whining about the trip taking to long and the cliche 'Are we there yet?' or 'Why did we have to come?'

Now, Louise had decided to almost launch her body out of the carriage. Half of her body was dangling through the window as she stared at the massive castle in front of her. "Louise!" Y/N shrieked grabbing her body and pulling it down, "Get down from there now! We are seconds away from the castle. Don't you dare misbehave and upset Mother and Father! You two are incredibly lucky I offered to come and take care of you both. Mother had wanted Lucy to come-"

"No!" The both shouted in union. Lucy was the twins governess, she was a very very old woman with very very old customs. Lucy may be the only one able to keep them both in line but she also done so by fear and torture, two things Y/N did not agree with.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, "Good. So I am guessing I won't have to send Mother and Father a letter asking to send Lucy over?"

They both shook their heads quickly. Y/N sighed in relief, she didn't like Lucy much either. After all, no one liked their Mother's spy breathing down their necks.

"I've never seen a woman look so scary in my life."

Y/N turned around so fast she felt her neck crack. Her eyes landed on a blonde haired man whose grin on his face was horribly contagious. "You obviously haven't met your Mother then."

Francis rolled his eyes and opened the carriage door, "You are just as annoying as I remembered."

"Good, then I am doing my job. Louise, Louis, this is Francis Valois, the Dauphin of France." Francis raised an eyebrow when Y/N announced their names, he had a hint of a smile on his face. Y/N knew how amusing he found their names but had chosen not to say anything.

Louise giggled silently and whispered something to Louis. He then smirked and looked between the two with mirth in his eyes. Y/N knew that look and couldn't help but feel her stomach drop. They were planning to do something that would make Y/N furious. It seemed Francis realized that too and quickly told the children that a maid would take them to their rooms where tons and tons of pastries were waiting to be eaten. They left quickly after that but, of course, not leaving before they could whisper something in Francis' ear.

Francis helped Y/N out of the carriage and decided to take a walk around the grounds with her. "What did my siblings say?" Y/N asked, "I saw your face and don't worry whatever their threat is won't happen. One time, Louis had told one of the maids that if she didn't leave to get him a strawberry tart immediately he would put spiders in her bed but-"

"It wasn't anything like that." Francis said laughing, "Although, their presence may bring some happiness to the castle. Louise had asked me if I was going to marry you. But I had told her that you already belonged to someone else."

Y/N grimaced with disgust, she quickly took her linked arm off of Francis'. Y/N and the blonde haired man had known each other for a very long time. He had grown handsome but she could never think of him anything other than the five year old who had peed on her for revenge when she had shoved a frog in his face. Besides, she had had a crush on his brother when she was younger. Of course, the feelings had disappeared now. But Francis didn't know that and she knew he would do anything in his power to poke fun of her past.

Deciding her best option would be to play dumb she said, "I haven't been betrothed yet, Francis."

"Don't play dumb it doesn't suit you. Don't worry Bash already knows."

Y/N felt her blood run cold as her stomach seemed sunk into itself. All she felt was absolute horror. Her mind was running through possible situations with each one seeming to get increasingly worse. However, as soon as the feeling came it had fluttered away and had been replaced by a new feeling. Embarrassment. White hot blood rushed up through her skin and seeped into the few uncovered parts of her body. Now more than ever she had wished she hadn't come to France.

She sat quietly onto the grass overlooking the lake, "You," Y/N said after a while as she pointed an accusing finger at a smirking Francis, "You and my horrid siblings are going to be the death of me someday and I will make you regret it."

"Well," Francis said sitting down next to her, "Today is not that day."

Y/N sighed and let her back fall back into the green, she felt absolutely exhausted. Everything was just too much. The week she had been too much. She just wanted to sleep forever and never have to wake up and face Sebastian. Y/N heard Francis lay down next to her but she decided not to open her eyes. They were much to heavy to open up and she was quite mad at him. She knew she would get back at him somehow. After all, she was Italian and Italians are great at revenge.

It had been a while since the L/Ns had visited the French Court. Y/N's Mother had been reluctant to go back once Queen Catherine and King Henry had signed Francis off to another Princess. She remembered the feeling of devastation that had went through her when she had found out that they may never go back. Francis had been her very best friend back then and Y/N supposed she felt that he still was even if they had lost contact over the years. He still knew her the best out of anyone.

Y/N was quite thankful for how things turned out. Since her Mother and Father had thought the King and Queen of France were going to sign an arranged marriage with them, they had wasted too much precious time and had failed to secure a Prince for Y/N to marry. She really didn't want to marry some stuck up man who only wanted her so he could progress the family lineage.

Y/N didn't really want to marry, unless it was for love. But she knew that wouldn't happen. After all, she was a Princess and Princesses have duties to take care of.

If only Bash had been Queen Catherine's child. Y/N wouldn't have wanted him to be the Dauphine, Francis was perfect for the job. Besides, she didn't want to rule France. Becoming the future ruler of Italy was already stressful enough. She had hundreds of people's lives at her hands and the Pope was constantly breathing down her neck. Sometimes, she wished she were a commoner.

The water swished through her body as she cleaned herself in the warmth of the bath. But Commoners wouldn't have this luxury, she reminded herself. Despite what she had thought previously, she didn't want to be one anymore.

"Your highness?" Someone called from the end of the room. Looking a bit awkward standing there was a guard. He looked uneasy like he wished he could be anywhere but here, however, if he didn't do whatever he had to do someone would kill him. Y/N decided that was probably right. They were in France. "Someone is here to see you."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, did it look like she was in appropriate attire to talk to someone right now? "Who is it?"

"Your sister and brother, Madame."

"Oh," Y/N said turning around towards the bath, "Send them in." Y/N heard them before she saw them, she could hear little footsteps and loud giggles probably before the entered the room.

As the finally reached Y/N's earshot, she heard, "You're turning into a girl, Louise."

"Well, I would hope so, Louis. After all, she is a girl."

Louis huffed from next to her and leaned against the wooden bathtub. His hand reached towards the water but Y/N's hands smacked it away before it could do any damage. "What was that for?" he cried out.

"What do you have in your hand?" Y/N said easily. She knew Louis well enough to know he wouldn't reach into her tub unless it was for a prank. Louis hated water. He loathed it so much he had refused to take baths for a month. Mother and Father hadn't cared until the day before the annual ball. He stunk like a deceased body soaked in acid and looked like some of the criminals Y/N had seen in the jail cells in Rome.

Louis pursed his lips silently and made eye contact with Louise who nodded sadly. She always felt bad after she caught them in the middle of a prank, the sparkle in their eyes disappeared into a lifeless look. But then the guilt would wash away before she could dawn on the subject more.

Handing her a wooden toy, Y/N raised her eyebrows. The thing was supposed to be a spider and it would have looked like a spider if it were painted right. It was midnight black with a red frown that was drawn in a squiggly line like the black line on charlie's brown's famous yellow shirt. The eyes and eyebrows were the same color but it was what on top of it's head that confused Y/N. Right in the center was a mop of yellow yarn that curled down past the body and on top of the tendrils was a crown. Y/N guessed Louis and Louise had made the toy themselves. It looked like an exact replica of a spider in a story Y/N had made up.

The Spider King and the Butterfly Princess

The story was basically a re-telling of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, except they were bugs and Y/N had decided not to mention anything about their deaths and had instead ended the story with the cliche, 'and they lived Happily Ever After.'

Surprisingly, they had both eaten the story up with greedy hands.

"Is this the Spider King?" Y/N asked turning the toy delicately in her hand, "You were just going to let him die so you could prank me?"

Louis looked a little ashamed at her chancing but Louise looked anything but ashamed, she looked furious. "You told me you grabbed the other spider, Louis!"

Y/N groaned and lifted her hand to massage her scalp, this was more stressful that she had accounted for. Deciding it was best to get out before something happened between them, Y/N grabbed a towel from the chair next to her and wrapped it around her body. "Hey!" Y/N said snapping their attention back to Y/N who was leaving the bathroom and walking into her room, "Why did you guys come visit me? You can come in here whenever you like. I'll tell the guards to just immediately let you both in."

Y/N froze after she finished her last sentence. There standing in the center of the room was a man, his back had been turned but at the sound of her voice he spun around. At the sight of his eyes she suddenly felt cool. The atmosphere in the room had gotten cooler somehow, the floor had turned into grainy sand and she felt sea spray tickle her face. His eyes were the beach, they were the freezing waves in Italy and the warm waters in Greece.

She felt seasick.

"Hello, Sebastian." Y/N said with a hint of a smile on her face. He smiled back at her and Y/N remembered she was only wearing a towel. "Do you mind, I have to get dressed."

"Oh!" He said quickly, "Yes, yes, of course. I'll just leave!"

"No! I mean, you don't have to leave. I have my clothes already behind the curtain." [ a/n; what's the thing they used to get dressed behind? it was sort of like a wall but it would fold up. it was in the animated cinderella movie. if you know what i am talking about please comment so i can replace it with curtain. ] Y/N had realized what she had said too late. Squeezing her eyes shut tightly in embarrassment she made her way into the corner. Could she have been anymore awkward? No wonder he found out about her crush when she was younger. She made it so incredibly obvious.

At least she didn't like him anymore. Y/N did have to admit he was quite handsome. But he wasn't her type. Francis was more her type but she could never like him like that.

"How have you been?" Y/N heard Sebastian ask from her room.

Y/N laughed quietly, Sebastian had always been the one to make small talk in the beginning before asking interesting questions that could get Y/N to second guess her entire life style within seconds, "I haven't seen you in 15 years and you ask me 'how have you been?'"

"You were the one demanded I get out then stay."

"Because! I was practically naked and you just stood there."

"I did not just stand there."

A tiny "oh no," left Y/n's lips as she tried again and again to fasten the buttons on her back. The slippery things would make Y/N lose her grip on them every time she tried to button them. Getting more and more frustrated as time flew by. Finally, red face and left with no patience she stomped her foot on the wood and blew out a breath of air.

"Y/N? Are you alright?" Bash asked. Y/N had forgotten he was still there. Wondering if her siblings were still in the room and up to help, she poked her head around the wall. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Are my siblings still here?" At the sight of his head shaking no, Y/N placed her forehead against the edge of the curtain. Y/N really didn't want to try again, her arms ached from reaching back there for so long and she knew no matter how hard she tried she wouldn't be able to get it in the stupid hole. She had gotten one on within the past ten minutes. She had absolutely no more patience. Hell, she would rather walk around with the back of her dress undone then try again.

But she hated asking for help. She knew she could really do it if she wanted too. But buttoning a dress wasn't worth twenty minutes of her time. Neither was relentless teasing from Sebastian. However, Y/N didn't know Sebastian anymore. Maybe he changed and wasn't as immature as before.

"Bash," Y/N tried, straightening the collar of her dress. "Do you mind helping me with something real quick." Y/N heard the chair squeak from the loss of his weight as she stepped out of the curtain. "Could you button this for me?" Y/N asked and turned her back to him so he could finish her task.

"You really haven't changed," Bash said as he moved Y/N's hair out of the way. Y/N was having trouble attempting to not show a reaction to his touch. But she couldn't keep in the shiver that ran down her back as his fingers brushed her neck.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Y/N had forgotten all about what he made her feel like which made her wonder if he really caused her to feel like this or if she had thought she had.

"You still can't dress yourself, Y/N. How long is it going to take you to learn a different skill without your maids?"

Y/N scoffed but her brow was furrowed with worry, "You are one to talk, Bash. Don't act like you haven't had the same treatment all of you life."

"I never said I didn't." Y/N felt his fingers brush against her neck again but she felt nothing. She had been right earlier, "There all finished."

Y/N turned around with a smile, "Thank you."

"Of course," he said walking over to the chair to grab his coat, "It's good to have you back. Things haven't been the same since you left."

The wind rustled through her hair as the horse galloped through the grounds. Her heart beat harder and harder as her eyelids slowly closed shut, giving all of her trust in the animal under her.

Bash was in front of her somewhere, she didn't know nor care. Besides meeting him at the stables every day, she hadn't seen him since the button situation. Y/N liked to pretend that they both had been busy, but she knew that wasn't the case.

She had been avoiding him for a while. It had been a cowardly and just down right rude thing to do but Y/N didn't know how else to sort out her feelings. It was a little ridiculous how easily she had grown to like him. Especially when she had tried so hard to make herself not like him. All he had to do was say a few things and have his hand graze her skin a bit before he had her wrapped around his pinky finger.

Her Mother would not approve at all.

But she knew she sneaking out with him at night to go riding was much worse.

"I had forgotten how much a horrible rider you were, princess."

Y/N rolled her eyes at him trying not to let the fact that he had called her princess effect her. "I had forgotten how much of a cox-comb you are. Besides, it's not like you have forgotten, Sebastian. You just rode with me yesterday," [ a/n; a cox comb is a medieval insult that means a vain, foppish person. ]

Bash laughed at her insult and decided to ignore the last part, "I haven't heard that one in a while. God, you're such a goody-goody."

"Don't use God's name in vain."

Bash gave her a look, "You are just proving my point."

Y/N scoffed and went to push him off his horse when he slowed his horse down to a stop, "Why are we stopping, Sebastian."

"Do you recognize this place?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow and scanned the area around her. They seemed to be in some kind of ruin near the Ocean Bluffs. Gently dismounting her horse, she gave the reins to Bash who had done the same earlier. She walked around the place with a blush and a small smile. She couldn't believe he had remembered. This place held so many memories she held close to her heart. She had her very first kiss here. Stupid, Francis had dared Y/N to kiss a French Nobel's son. It was the first place Y/N, Francis, and Bash had played hide and seek. Then, Mary had come along and the group had split apart. Francis went along to play with Mary and Y/n and Bash would come here. Sometimes, they would invite other children to come play with them but it was mostly just the two of them.

"You have this far-away look on your face. I'm guessing you do remember then?"

Y/N turned around to look at Sebastian with a childish smile on her face, "How could I forget?" She walked over to a stone wall, letting her hand brush over the edge.

It was almost bittersweet, looking around and having flashbacks of her childhood. She missed it so much. There was a tug at her heart that got worse every time she remembered some ridiculous memory that probably never effected her in the slightest. As her fingers left the stone she felt a sense of longing, a longing to be back in her childhood where everything was simple and she didn't have to worry about her country or her siblings or the future.

No one liked growing up. But it seemed Y/N had grown up too fast.

She remembered looking forward to her birthday every year. Her parents would throw a grand party every year to celebrate her living another year. Thinking back on it, Y/N thought the parties were a bit deceiving. They should be celebrating the memories she had made and how she had enjoyed life, not the increasing stress she was receiving and her ever decreasing time until the throne was hers.

Soon, she was almost in tears. Bash seemed to have noticed because he panicked and quickly rushed towards her. "No, no, don't cry. I didn't bring you here to cry..."

Y/N sniffled as he brought her into a hug. She sighed and gripped his overcoat. All she seemed to do was embarrass herself around him.

"Why did you bring me here?" Y/N asked looking up. Her lip wobbled as she looked up at him, trying very hard not let a fresh layer of tears run down her cheeks.

A flash of guilt crossed his face as he looked away, it almost seemed like he was trying to hide something. Y/N didn't notice though, she was too busy worrying about his answer.

"Why are you crying?"

"I asked you first," she whispered, leaning out of his embrace so she could wipe her tears, "Answer me, please."

"I just felt like it." Y/N gave him a hard look, she didn't believe him in the slightest and it hurt to think that he was lying right to her face. Her jaw clenched as she looked away, but she chose not to say anything. "Why are you crying?"

An answer bit harshly on her tongue but wouldn't release. She didn't want to say it, not now, not yet. They had been having such a great time and now she was going to ruin it with her Mother's words. She knew Bash had heard them before, after all they had been said right to his Father's face. But she still couldn't believe he would just lie, maybe he had changed. "Italian people choose to show their emotions instead of locking it up like you French people do." She said, her words sounding harsher and harsher as the sentence went on. She almost regretted saying it but decided against it.

Y/N watched his eyebrows furrow with worry, she knew he remembered which only made her feel more sick to her stomach. Her eyes lowered to the ground as she stepped away from him. "Y/N," he started with his arm stretched out towards her.

"No," she stepped away from him again and swatted his hands out of her reach, "Just-Just leave me alone."

His jaw clenched once again and he sighed as he thrust his hands into his hair out of frustration, "Fine, I'll leave you alone after you tell me whats wrong."

A whimper left Y/N's lips as she thought over what she could say, 'I'm mad because I love you and you'll never love me. But I'm pretending I'm mad because you lied to my face.' No, that wouldn't work. So instead of saying anything Y/N hugged her waist and stared out at the waves for a while. Her curled hair tickled her cheeks as she stared out. Her eyelids, unbeknownst to Sebastian, were blinking tears away. She hated herself for not being able to tell him but she hated Sebastian more for being so oblivious to her feelings.

Taking in a deep but shaky breath, she let a few tears slip past her eyes and onto her cheeks. She knew in the back of her mind what she needed to do which only made her more terrified. Her stomach was a flurry of butterflies and she felt dizzy with nerves.

"I'll tell you what's wrong when you tell me why you brought me here," Y/N whispered so quietly she almost jumped when Sebastian finally replied back.

He patted the grass next to her, signaling her to sit next to him. He seemed to be preparing himself for something Y/N noticed, as she felt the wetness of the grass seep into her dress. She played with her fingers for a while as she waited for a response. She only looked up when he started to talk, "I just," he hesitated for a moment and turned away with a queasy look on his face, Y/N wondered if he was going to throw up, "I thought it would be a good enough time as ever to confess something to you."

Heat rushed up to Y/N's face, her heartbeat racing as her mind went straight to the one thing she was hoping to hear, "Well, you see, ever since I was little my Mother always adored you and well-"

"Yes?"

"That has nothing to do with it actually. I was just stalling. Umm, Y/N, I was hoping that we could put all of our childhood difficulties behind us and maybe start over. I have talked to your Father some. It may be the reason on why you came here instead of Sweden, but I would like to chort you."

Y/N smiled, her cheeks flushing with pleasure as her eyes strayed to the grass flowing in the wind. It could not have been a more perfect day. "I'd like that."

#anmarauder writings #anmarauder writes #reign imagines #reign #sebastian de poitiers x reader #sebastian de poitiers

111 notes · View notes

psychosncottagecore · 2 years

Text

The Falls - Sebastian De Poitiers (Bash)

Four times Y/N falls into Sebastian

One (long) time Sebastian falls for Y/N

2397 words

Song the fic is heavily based on Y/N’s time at French court was - interesting to say the least. She’d originally been the second choice for a lady-in-waiting for Mary after Ailee’s untimely demise. That was not the interesting part however, being a lady of minor titles from a country that was not Scotland, that made the dynamics between her and the Queen she had sworn loyalty to a little more interesting. But once again, that was not the interesting part.

No, the interesting part was the dark haired bastard with the opalescent eyes that seemed to follow her whenever they occupied the same space. The interesting part was how damn clumsy someone could be when they were distracted. The interesting part - well the interesting part really started when she fell.

The day was atypical to say the least for French court, the normal hustle and bustle of courtiers and servants and guests and dignitaries and other such people was muted for a day or so, quite why Y/N had no idea, and she liked it that way. She enjoyed not having to conceal smiles and her whims underneath five layers of fabric and a metaphorical iron mask required for the court. A stroll around the lake was in order, Mary was off and busy with Francis, Kenna, Greer and Lola were all doing there own thing, and so that left the newest lady-in-waiting some time to amble around the grounds and enjoy the soft sound of the lake lapping at the shoreline. So entranced had Y/N become in her activity of examining the grounds and marveling at the small ships that sat waiting upon the lake that she hadn’t noticed the sound of boots approaching, nor the mud beneath her slippered feet before it was too late.

Quite what prompted the slip she had no idea, an over-eager examination of a particularly interesting bullrush? A misplaced footstep, or fate playing some cruel game with her? Whatever the answer to that may be, Y/N slipped and found the ground come rushing up towards her but before she could hit it, a pair of arms managed to lift her up just in time to save complete humiliation, instead she got away with just partial humiliation.

“Are you quite alright?” She hadn’t the guts to look up and see who she had embarrassed herself in front of but just from the voice alone she knew it to be Sebastian, Bash as he insisted most people called him. The man she oft found herself stealing glances at during particularly boring meetings of the court. Who could blame her? Raising her gaze hesitantly, a grimace overtook the young woman's features followed by an uneasy laugh

“Nothing is injured but my pride, and I hope that shall soon recover.” She responded, the uneasy laugh was accompanied by a smile, a dimple forming on her left cheek as her eyes eventually met those clear blue ones of Bash. A chuckle sounded from the man before her and he gave a warm smile

“Would your pride allow you to venture a little further from the shore? To ensure that doesn’t happen again?” He prompted as he glanced to the waves shifting mere meters from them, the lady - Y/N, he knew her name well enough even if the reason her name stuck in his head was less than fully honorable. Y/N, the court-lady who no matter her efforts could not conceal an expression to save her life, Y/N the lady-in-waiting who’s eyes he often felt upon his form, Y/N the woman who had his heart sent in a flurry every time she deigned to pay attention to him, which was often he found.

“That is perhaps a more sensible idea, Bash. But when have I ever been one for sensible ideas?” Was all she responded with, patting the man on the arm tentatively, a smile upon her face “now, thank you for coming to my aid but if you’ll excuse me, I have more fresh air to enjoy before I am inevitably dragged back into those stuffy court rooms.” She told him with a playful smile, turning to continue her walk along the shoreline.

To any onlooker, they might have seen a pair who knew each other fleetingly, greet one another and head on their separate ways. To two very specific onlookers however, they saw two fools dancing around a clear mutual-attraction. Mary saw the red inflaming her lady's face and Francis saw the wistful gaze cast back towards the retreating figure of the woman by his brother.

“Do you believe we should tell them?” He whispered to Mary, the young Queen merely raised a brow

“As if it would make any difference.” She teased, both of the bull-headed idiots she loved so dearly would have to work it out for themselves, for she knew neither would listen to their advice, they could… perhaps, turning and uttering a long winded plan to her fiance, a grin spread over both their features.

The second fall, well one could characterize it as a fall but really it was a controlled dip. The Yule festivities had been fast approaching and ever since that day on the lake both Y/N and Bash’s conversations had grown more frequent and intricate, still there was an invisible and silent line both acknowledged and neither crossed. The line that meant they could only ever talk in public, the line that prohibited more personal topics past interests, the line that meant despite the lingering glances upon one another's lips, nothing happened. But the Yule ball, the Yule ball had to roll around and mess with everyone and everything in it’s path, leaving behind a wake of destruction. Of course Y/N would attend, both because she was Mary’s lady in waiting and because - well - who would miss an opportunity for such a grand festivity? Besides, if she wanted to leave she already had her Queen’s blessing to do so.

“What about this one? Don’t you think Francis would just die when he sees Mary in it?” Kenna exclaimed as she picked one of Mary’s dresses from the wardrobe. Greer shook her head at the other girl and laughed

“So would any other man who so much as enters the same room! No, we need something more modest, we are still representing Scotland.” She chided gently and both Kenna and Y/N exchanged a playful look, Greer, ever the responsible one, keeping them all in line and on task.

“You may borrow it if you’d like, Kenna. I doubt I will have use of it in the near future.” Mary told her lady happily, her gaze glancing to Y/N.

“And you, I have the perfect colour for you.” She told her, quickly finding a dress of dark burgundy and gold, the colours you would most often find Bash sporting, it did not slip past the attention of the other ladies, Y/N though, was simply too taken aback by the Queen’s generosity and the gorgeous cut of the dress. Hesitantly, she accepted and donned the dress, much to the delight of the girls surrounding her.

The soft sound of music surrounded the women as Mary led their entrance into the ball, the Queen flanked either side by her ladies-in-waiting. Of course the arrival of the Queen and her ladies caused the attention to shift from the festivities to the women for a few precious moment, during those moments, Bash was incredibly glad he had situated himself at the back of the hall for he almost choked upon the wine he was sipping from when he saw Y/N sporting the burgundy and gold dress. She looked - divine. There was no other word, she looked as if she was heaven sent and God what he wouldn’t do to sweep her onto the dance floor and off her feet.

“You’re staring.” A voice prompted from beside him, causing the entranced gaze of the bastard to fall to his half-brother beside him.

“This cannot be a coincidence brother, you planned this!” He accused, his voice a quiet hiss as he watched the blond take the last nonchalant sip of his wine before placing the cup down to take Mary onto the dance floor.

It took a few dances to pass before Y/N was able to escape the other ladies and find Bash, her eyes couldn’t help but shine as she laid eyes upon him, no matter how much she tried to perfect her court-mask it was simply impossible to hide her excitement every time she saw the brunette.

“Dance with me? I’m beginning to feel left out!” She joked softly, of course she had at least two cups of wine, it was a festivity, meant to be enjoyed and at that point all of her friends had been swept onto the dance floor but she had refused every attempt.

“Are you certain? It might be-” before any more protests could be uttered, Bash found he had been unwittingly pulled onto the marble floors and his arms closed around Y/N before the next dance started.

“Stop your ridiculous protests and dance.” Was all she demanded, a smile upon her face, he might have noticed the way her eyes lingered upon his face had he not been distracted by her adorable dimples. Simply returning her demand with a grin, he inclined his head and fell into the steps of the dance almost like second nature.

Before the pair knew it two, then three songs had passed, subconsciously they must have realized for they adjusted their dancing style every time the dance changed.

“Perhaps one more before we stop to refresh ourselves?” He asked with a weary smile, he did not want to release her but the dances were certainly exerting. An understanding yet disappointed nod came from the woman, although she did not want to separate from Bash, she was beginning to feel her throat become dry and she wasn’t sure her heart could stand the hammering sensation she felt every time she was around Bash. In almost perfect synchronization, but for a few inexperienced boys for whom this dance was their first, the men on the dance floor dipped their partners. Y/N’s eyes almost shut with the broadness of her grin before she caught sight of the mistletoe hung above the entire dance floor, the wine was most certainly taking full effect as she made the decision, his lips were millimeters away from hers and all it took was a slight raise to her head for their lips to brush.

The song ended before anything could be said and she found herself being mobbed by Kenna, Lola and Greer who needed to get drinks as well, leaving Sebastian staring after the woman, the memory of her lips against his.

“You’re staring again.” This time the voice was Mary’s as she brushed past him after her ladies, a triumphant grin upon her lips as she followed them to the drinks before pulling her group out of the hall, feigning tiredness although Bash was certain she was doing this to torture him now.

The third fall, the third fall was the simultaneous fall of two hearts mere days after the Yule ball. It had felt like an eternity for the pair, days spent just barely missing one another for this meeting or that completely necessary lunch with a visiting dignitary before they headed home for Yule. An eternity where the pair were forced to contemplate the kiss and the others emotions, an eternity of Y/N wondering if the invisible line was there for Bash’s lack of affection for her. An eternity of Bash wondering if the kiss was simply a product of wine and Yule joy.

Eventually, as with every good love story, the pair found their way to one another, out in the gardens once more.

“Y/N!” The summon was more like a bellow and the woman reluctantly turned, she knew it was Sebastian and she knew that he would have questions. “You know what I must ask?” His eyes were filled with such sweet sincerity and uncertainty as he studied the woman. Once again the grimace overtook her features and she dipped her head.

“It was not the wine that produced the desire to kiss you.” She confessed softly, her eyes landing everywhere but upon the mans face. “If you’ll excuse me I believe K-” She had turned and attempted to make her way away from Sebastian since his lack of a response was a response enough. Before she could take two steps away she felt an insistent pull at her hand and she was pulled into his embrace, well she more fell into it and into the hand that pressed against her cheek. Warm lips laid overtop of hers, warm and insistent although she felt the hesitation, allowing her a few moments to pull away, not that she would even if she had the will-power to.

“Tell me you don’t want this? Tell me that and I promise we will go back to talking about the weather and never speak of this again.” He promised softly, eyes leveling sincerely to gauge the woman's reactions.

“You are much more stupid then you look.” She joked, pulling him back into the kiss, a lilting laugh escaping her as she leaned her forehead against him for a few precious moments. “I have been half in love with you for weeks, stupid man.” She added with a breathy laugh that he returned.

“And I you. More in love then I have ever been.” He whispered out, it was like a prayer uttered only for their ears. He had fallen fast and he had fallen hard for her, for her mind, her touch, her shine and her, just, her. Everything about her.

The fourth fall, the fourth fall was the best fall of all. The fourth fall was the fall she was saved from upon standing in front of Bash in front of the Archbishop of Reims, the fall where his arms wrapped around the white bodice of her dress and steadied her once more. Neither could remember the wedding, nor much of the celebration. All Sebastian could focus on was the girl who had fallen into his heart and all Y/N could focus on was the man whose heart had fallen completely for her.

#long may she reign #bash #sebastian de poitiers #sebastian de poitiers x reader

124 notes · View notes

merakiaes · 4 years

Text

REIGN REQUESTS OPEN

Sebastian “Bash” de Poitiers

Leith Bayard

Louis Condé

James Stewart

Darnley

Prince Henri

Send requests!

#bash #bash x reader #leith bayard x reader #louis condé x reader #james stewart x reader #darnley x reader #prince henri x reader #reign x reader #reign imagine #reign #sebastian de poitiers #sebastian de poitiers x reader #sebastian de poitiers imagine

17 notes · View notes

bellarkeselection · 2 years

Text

Reign

Should I start writing requests for Bash and Francis from Reign?

Comment you're thoughts. My ask box and requests are open 😊

#bash x reader #francis x reader #sebastian de poitiers #sebastian de poitiers x reader #francis valois #francis valois x reader #reign #reign x reader

54 notes · View notes

1800-fandoms · 5 years

Text

Reign Masterlist

Updated: October 15, 2019

Total Works: 8

Sebastian De Poitiers

One-Shots

Jealousy

Let Me Court You

Hurt

History Project (modern!bash)

Blurbs

Series

Charles Valois

One-Shots

Good Morning, Stranger

Broken Promises

Happiest Day of Your Life

Insane

Blurbs

Series

#reign #reign imagine #reignimagines #reign one shots #sebastian de poitiers #bash #bash de poitiers #bashxreader #bash imagines #bash x reader #Charles Valois #charles x reader #charles valois imagines #charles valois x reader #bash de poitiers x reader #sebastian de poitiers x reader

244 notes · View notes

rostovs-lover · 5 years

Note

Hey hey! Can I request a Bash x reader imagine where the reader is Mary’s younger sister and she doesn’t know Bash has been in love with her since they were children?

Like Children

Sebastian De Poitiers | major spoilers, brief mention of character death | female reader | fluff, pining, kinda slow burn for a short fic | wc.927

goodness its been a while since I’ve watched Reign, I’m so sorry if Sebastian is out of character. I also hope this isn’t as choppy rushed as I thought it was. I hope you enjoy! (Note: I’m on mobile so I can’t put the cut in, when I get computer access I will add it)

The French court had seemed unimaginable, something (Yn) had only heard about from her sister’s letters and a few brief visits when they were younger. That was until she was there, after Aylee’s murder when Mary sent for her younger sister. Now that she was stuck in a stuffy room, it was almost underwhelming. (Yn) got along with everyone, she always had, and it was nice to finally see the girls she had spent so much of her young life with. It was lonely though, lonelier than she had expected, and she had a newfound sympathy for the way Mary laminated in her letters.

There was a knock, “Lady (Yn)?”

She turned around, letting the curtains she had pushed back to stare out the window flutter around her. Sebastian was standing in the doorway and (Yn) almost didn’t recognize him, “Sebastian,” It was his eyes, that’s why she knew who he was.

“I,” He cleared his throat, “I heard you’d returned to court,”

She stepped away from the window towards him, “Yes, I arrived earlier today. It’s just as a remembered it yet so different,”

“Well Lady (Yn), would you like for me to show you around?” Sebastian offered his arm to loop with hers.

(Yn) grinned, Sebastian realized it was the same way she always had, and accepted his arm, “What a polite offer, who would I be to decline?”

Horse hooves clopping against gravel was the only sound in the quiet woods but Sebastian hardly realized. His mind was elsewhere, on Lady (Yn) Stuart and the soft way she spoke to him while they walked the gardens. He hadn’t thought much of Mary’s younger sister, not until the afternoon when he saw her again for the first time in years. Perhaps, he realized, he had chosen not to think of her, pushed her out of his mind. They had been close when they were younger and Mary had come to court with her ladies and (Yn). He could recall a certain feeling for the girl but he had simply brushed it off as a childhood infatuation. They were older now though and he still felt so strongly towards her, Sebastian couldn’t pinpoint the feeling though. Was he in love?

Wandering the castle in the dead of night may not have been the smartest of ideas but it was entertaining and (Yn) hadn’t been caught yet. The thought of seeing any respectable person at this hour while only wearing a nightgown crossed her mind, what an impression to make.

The soft thump of boots against the stairs made her heart start to race and she tried to find a corner to duck around. She rushed around a wall towards a set of big double door and skidded to a stop, leaning on the wall to catch her breath.

“Lady (Yn)?” The voice was familiar, much softer than usual seeing as it was so late, but familiar none the less, “What are you doing?”

(Yn) peeked around the corner catching a glimpse at the approaching figures dark hair, “Goodness Sebastian, you scared me!”

“Well milady, seeing a gown-clad figure rush through the dark hall of the castle isn’t the most welcome sight either. Why are you up?”

(Yn) felt her face begin to flush, “Well I couldn’t sleep and why stay cooped up in my chambers when there’s so much of this castle that I haven’t seen in ages. I didn’t expect to see anyone,”

Sebastian smiled, “Well I suppose a bit of an adventure never hurt anyone,”

The soft candlelight flickered against the walls of the tunnel and a grin grew on Sebastian’s face.

“I cannot believe I’m doing this,” He whispered, “Wandering through these passages at this hour. I don’t think I’ve done this since I was a child,”

“Me either,” (Yn) picked at a thread on her nightgown, “I remember being terrified of these when we were first at court. I didn’t know where they would lead and I thought that I might get lost and never find my way out. One night Mary convinced me to come to follow her down one, we walked for so long. I got a bit frightened, I was worried we’d never see the light of day again but Mary being Mary, she found a way out.” A comfortable silence filled the small space as the pair wandered a bit further.

Sebastian swallowed and steadied himself, “Lady (Yn)?”

“Yes?”

“I think I love you,”

(Yn) stared at him for a moment, “You… love me?”

“I believe I do. It’s not anything new either, I’ve felt something for you since we were young but I brushed it off, told myself it was simply being a child and that it would go away but it didn’t. It never did, I’ve loved you since we were children (Yn) but I’ve only just realized it. I think when I saw you for the first time this morning it dawned upon me that these feelings were not-” He shook his head, “- Are not just a silly liking. I love you (Yn),”

“Oh, Sebastian,” She stroked his cheek, “I believe I just might love you too,”

“Well then,” He started with a grin, “that’s quite a coincidence I’d say,” And he kissed her.

(Yn) patted his cheek as she pulled back, “I believe we should get back before its sunrise and people start to worry about our whereabouts,”

Sebastian chuckled, “It would be rather unfortunate to go missing on your second day at court,” He laced his fingers with hers, “Now best not get lost in these tunnels,”

#Sebastian De Poitiers #bash #reign #Sebastian De Poitiers x reader #Sebastian De Poitiers imagine #bash x reader #bash imagine #requested #jordsie #runes writing

237 notes · View notes

archieimagines · 6 years

Text

Real France | Bash (Reign) One Shot

requested by: anon “A oneshot request for Bash from Reign please. Reader is next in line for the throne of a very large and prosperous country and is visiting France to make a peace treaty for their father. Reader and Bash fall in love. Reader want's to marry Bash and make him their prince consort. But Bash thinks reader should be with someone of their social standing, not a bastard.“ this is gonna be in two halves, otherwise it would be painfully long. part 2 will be out soon :) hats off to whoever spots the batman line ;) word count: 2106 words (yikes) warnings: none ? Part Two here.

His ice blue eyes were trained on you from the beginning. He could sense the fear that radiated from you as soon as you entered the throneroom, despite the way you held your head high, back straight and shoulders set in a determined stance. He could feel that you were quivering beneath your royal clothes, purely because he knew the light in your eyes was panic, he'd seen it in many people before. But none hid it so well as you.

The heir to your father's throne, the throne of a country at war with France, it was an enormous risk that you should be here at all, with so many French deaths on your father's hands and so many assassins thirsting for blood.

Nothing wins a war like the death of a royal.

And yet here you were, head bowed before his own father as you greeted him with a graceful curtsey.

King Henry waved his hand in dismissal, a sour expression on his face. "I've no care for your respect. Tell me your terms, and make it quick."

His father was often like this and it always seemed to unnerve people. But you? No, Bash could tell you weren't unnerved. Far from it - he gathered you were more annoyed than anything, but it didn't show in your voice.

It was steady and even as you spoke in a soft accent, "My father wishes to end this war that has left both our countries in sore circumstances. We have grain and you have money - we aim for a peace treaty that levels us with these supplies."

Henry scoffed, "So you come to us, I see, to beg for our money."

"I come for my people, and for yours. I trust you are aware of the hunger in your country?"

Bash's eyebrows rose and he turned to his father. You had a force about you that Henry wasn't used to, and Bash was interested in how this would go. It was rare someone would talk back.

Henry's voice was low and strained. "I am aware."

In contrast, yours was airy and strong, laced with reason. "And I trust you are not willing to condemn your people to starvation? You could have quite an uprising on your hands."

Henry was quiet, and Bash found that he was thankful for you. Not only for addressing his father's failings as a King, but for helping his people.

"I've brought much grain with me as a token of good faith and for my protection," you continued. "Should my safety be forfeited, the grain will be burned. If all is well, the rest will be brought across the border once a peace treaty is signed and the requested amount of gold is supplied."

A silence flooded the hall as the spectators waited for Henry's approval, or orders to take you to the cells.

His father turned to him with a brow raised, and Bash was sure to nod at him. Killing you would only add another layer to the war, and the people would still be hungry. Giving gold to save the people was a good trade.

With his son's opinion, Henry turned back to you. "Very well," he sighed, "The treaty shall be signed. As a guest, you are permitted to stay as long as you wish."

Bash jolted when he looked to you and noticed that you were looking straight at him, much more calmed than before. You gave him a subtle nod, and he gave one back, a reflexive smile playing on the corner of his lips.

"Thank you, King Henry. Your kindness will not go unnoticed."

And with one final glance to Bash, you turned and departed the hall, your men at your sides.

He made his decision then that he'd introduce himself to you properly.

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.

written by: archie

1K notes · View notes

hiatuswhore · 2 years

Text

Viper III

Versatility: The Princess of Conde, oh will the world ever see a woman as clever as she. Why does the expectation to be one kind of person rest on the shoulders of people—especially women. This Princess appears to be the jack of all trades, does that also include deception?

VIPER II: Rattled

IT WAS LAUGHABLE WATCHING FRANCIS AVOID YOU AT ALL COSTS. When has a king ever hid from a Princess in the confines of their own court? Still, you found yourself in the general vicinity most days.

“Humor me, Princess. Are you bored?” Sebastian questioned, standing in the corner of a meeting you likely had no business being in attendance. Your eyes locked on Mary, who swiftly looked away from your mocking gaze.

“Bored? How could one be bored when playing such an amusing game?” You challenged, narrowing your eyes with a mischievous glint. A quiet chuckle left him as you turned away once more. Your eyes back on to the raven-haired Queen, her jaw clenched as she held her composure.

“Mary is a good person. She may not deserve your kindness but your respect at the least. Is that too much to ask?” Sebastian said with his hands clasped in front of him. The smug look on your face hardened before you turned to your dear friend. “I do not mean to upset you.”

“If she is so deserving of my respect, why don’t we weigh in my dear brother Louis in this decision?” Your suggestion came with a sharp inhale from Sebastian. He had also warned Mary of your vengeful nature and fierce loyalty to your brother. You turned back to the open discussion of the religious war that now bubbled in France. The floor was open to all suggestions, and yet the men were coming up short.

“If I may? Your royal highness,” Sebastian covered his chuckle into a cough as you raised your hand. Your tone was almost taunting as you took the attention of the entire room. A silence followed before quiet murmurs made their way around the room; Francis sighed before nodding his head. “All the trouble lies in one common denominator‒you lot want a simple solution to a complex problem. So rather than attempting to isolate issues, spread them amongst solutions. Right now, people fear the arrival of a plague so let us bring people from all walks of life together. We offer food and blankets that we can spare to the needy or anyone who may need them. Right here in the main courtyard. If you fear the safety of the King and Queen Consort, we can up the guards and have you make appearances in slots.”

“What would this accomplish?” One of the privy councilmen grimaced at your brazen actions—how dare a woman use her mind? The room looked back to you for an answer which you simply smiled.

“Mind over matter is what it would accomplish. Not only do you continually build a good repertoire with your subjects, but you force them to really look at each other. Catholics and Protestants alike‒all together getting help from the crown. I’m not saying this will stop this war, but every victory, no matter how small, is a victory,” Your head held high, not a single crack appeared in your confidence. The skepticism of the room remained only in their expression. Their genuine resentment being in your idea being a good one.

“Thank you, Princess. That’ll be taken into heavy consideration. Any other ideas?” Francis said, but each that followed did nothing to rival your idea. They lacked the intricacy you offered in your plan. Finally, after another brutal thirty minutes of the men tripping themselves in attempts to one-up you, it was clear what the verdict would be. “I thank each of you for your contributions to today’s meeting. Since it was your idea, Princess, can the crown bestow the responsibility of this event onto you?”

“With pleasure,” Your smile was more prominent than necessary as Francis adjourned the meeting. Sebastian shook his head, waiting with you as the others cleared the room. Once the indiscernible murmurs of the privy council were gone, it left the throne room with a handful of you left. Mary brazenly met your gaze as Francis huffed as his mother held his ear. “I do not wish to take much of your time. Is it possible for my available resources to be listed, so I have it at my disposal?”

“I’ll make certain you have it by the end of the day, Princess,” Mary said, as she forced a smile onto her features. Your eyes caught sight of how tightly she gripped at her clasped hands‒staring at them too long, she promptly brought them to her sides.

“Very well,” You said, curtsying and doing the same not only for Francis but Catherine as well. If the following days had gone as you would have liked, then ideally, the days would have passed with a mixture of torturing Mary while organizing. Instead, your days were consumed with coordinating with the servants and kitchen staff. While those were the most manageable tasks to be dealt with, the guards proved to be an enormous headache. Sebastian made sure he would select the men that would watch over Mary and Francis, simple, right? Not in the slightest. Lord Narcisse insisted on having some of his men a part of the guard, hence him talking your ear off in the midst of your scrambling.

“—thus, amid my men are just as qualified!” He exclaimed. Nodding your head; you offered a warm smile. A huff escaped you as you scanned the corridor for your swift escape, but it only offered you useless Nobleman and‒your savior Lola Flemming.

“Lady Lola! Just who I was looking for!” You exclaimed, smiling broadly as you acted as though all his words suddenly evaded. Rambling aimlessly about several nonsensical tasks you already completed, you took her arm, matching her stride. Once out of earshot, you looked at her laughing like an old friend, but you spoke in a hushed whisper, “Nod your head and pretend I am telling you something important. Before you consider defying me in the name of your dreadful Queen, do tread lightly. I know my reputation precedes me, and I am not to be trifled with.”

It was almost unsettling how easily you could hold an innocent demeanor while threatening foes. Lola nodded her head, following your directions without protest; once you watched Narcisse huff before disappearing in the opposite direction, your smile dropped.

“Thank you for your cooperation. You’re always such a doll,” You do not allow Lola to respond. Her eyebrows pull knit as she fails to understand your eccentric behavior. In the courtyard, you beam with pride at the turnout; several Frenchmen begrudgingly stand in line together. Some parts of the line conversation strike, some good, others not so much, but still, the event ran smoothly.

“You don’t find the music to be a bit much?” Sebastian stands at your side; you both hand out blankets. Your smile was large as you received strange looks from the patrons in line. Anyone with a crown or status stands a few feet back. So you stand with the servants proudly under the eye of not only the French court but the eye of the ordinary men and women. It was no wonder you were adored.

“Why don’t you take a break,” You turn to find Mary relieving the servant to your right. As she met your gaze, a small chuckle left you; it felt near impossible not to say something.

“Afraid I’ll gain more support than I already hold?” You question while still beaming with joy as you throw spite in her direction. Even you could admit she was quickly learning your game‒or at least that’s what you wanted her to believe.

“I hurt you, and now you devote yourself to my demise. I will not fight you, Princess. That is what they expect of us, and I will have no part in it,” She says, and you openly chuckle as eyes watch you both. It appears as if two friends are sharing a chat, but a handful watched you both wearily, knowing precisely what it indeed was.

“Do as you please, Queen Mary. Whether you indulge, me or not means nothing. I am not certain of much in life, but I am certain of this,” You lean in close to her, smiling with glee as Sebastian makes up for your slacking, “You will never prevail in French Court. Not if I have anything to do with it.”

Mary just barely holds her composure as you return to handing out blankets. Many patrons linger with the blankets and food, chatting amongst the crowd. You join the crowd intermingling happily. A little girl watches you cautiously behind her mothers’ dress. You tilt your head, watching as she buries herself further behind her mother, who urges her daughter not to be rude to a Princess.

“You’re a Princess?” Her tiny voice called out, and for the first time all night, you dropped your carefully calculated pretenses. You crouch down, balancing on your feet as you match the little girl’s height.

“Why, of course, darling, takes one to know one, right?” You questioned, but she immediately corrected you, telling you of her lack of status. Your hands shoot to the diamonds around your neck, unclasping the back; you beckon the child to you. She turns, allowing you to bring the necklace around her neck, “Now all Princesses have their prized possessions. Mine is a bracelet from my beloved brother.”

“Is he here?” The little girl questioned in awe as her tiny hands inspected the heavy metal hanging around her neck. You could feel the subtle gazes and how many around you waited patiently for your response.

“No, he is off to much better things. Promise me you’ll take good care of your prized possession?” You said with her hands in your own she nodded her with vigor before you allowed her back to her mother. Her voice filled the courtyard as she gushed to her mother. You walk to your main guard William, you lean in close with your eyes on the woman and her daughter. “Follow them and make sure no one bothers. I am going to have my pager deliver to you a certain amount of coin. Make certain they get it in confidence.”

“Shall I leave them a message when I do?” Only a few knew of your heavy generosity; that list consisted of your brothers, Sebastian, Francis, and William. You smiled as you watched the young girl run in circles, her hands on the necklace to ensure its presence.

“Just say it’s from one princess to another,” You explain, rolling your eyes as William teases your evident kindness. Too focused on the family, it took Francis three tries at your name before he grabbed your attention.

“Walk with me?” You make no attempt to hide the way you glance over at Mary. She stands with her head high as she pretends to focus on the crowd in the courtyard.

“Will your wife approve?” Francis glanced over at his wife, who met his gaze; he offered a simple nod before looking back at you. “I am King. It is only my approval that matters.”

You join him as the two of you stroll through the crowd casually. Francis commends you on a successful turnout. Of course, you are no fool as you await for the pretenses to drop, but he continues to dissect the impact of your event. “—may even prevent a war from even occurring.”

“Francis, are you reaching a point, dear?” His smile does not falter as you look at him with a raised brow. The skepticism and uncertainty in your features are fully apparent but he dotes on you without shame. “You avoid me for a decent amount of time, and now you greet me with kindness. Francis, what is it that you are doing?”

“As you know, there is a history between us. Due to that, I have been blind to what was also a great friendship. You are here and still in my corner despite all that has happened. Please accept not only my deepest sympathies but my sorrow for being an awful friend to you. Your love is dear to me (Y/n); please say you will,” Francis said as the two of you continued your walk well out of view of the others. You chuckle down at the floor as your hand brushes against his own.

“Things have really drastically changed. We’re a long way from playing King and Queen in the throne room,” You point out, the two of you stopping at the grass. The night sky and the torches from the courtyard offer a minimal view.

“Remember our wedding. We had it right about there, I believe,” Though you could not see where he pointed, you knew exactly what he spoke of. The two of you snuck past the guards and played by the tree line. You both had just attended a wedding with one of France’s allies.

“I promised to love you no matter what,” You said with your arms crossed as nostalgia held you tight. Francis looked over at you, but you did not falter with the far-off look in your eye.

“I promised to protect you. I still intend to do that (Y/n),” He said, and you lean into his side. It would be easy to just lean up and kiss him, the mixture of the stars and the light hum of the music‒it’d be perfect. Perfect was not the goal, though, and you knew this, you needed him burning for you.

“Thank you, Francis,” You whispered, drawing small patterns on his arm; you bat your lashes up at him only for a second. The silence that takes over leaves a slight tension; the energy in the air practically screams for a large display of affections, but you hold it at simple, platonic gestures before excusing yourself. Your journey back through the courtyard entailed smug looks thrown Mary’s way. If you were a writer, France was your masterpiece. You would continue to mold history into a lens that fit your narrative.

VIPER IV: Reputation

MASTERLIST

209 notes · View notes

black-dhalias · 2 years

Text

Owe It —Part II—

Bash De Poitiers X Reader

Settling into your families summer home was easier than you remembered as a child, then it was loud and someone was always shouting, but now it is quiet. Calm and eerie, and almost too quiet for liking; which you find odd, because when did you decide that the bustle of Court was something you would miss. You feel the slow breath brush against your hand as you exhale, eyeing the target ahead just beyond the arrow—you never liked the noise before, because this calm before you shoot was where you used to find comfort. Yet once you release the arrow, you do not linger where it hit, but instead turn your attention to the silver eyes that watch your movements—he seems so interested, engrossed as you smile brightly at him. A smile that he returns with as much vigor: "How you manage to hit center every time, I do not know?"

You giggle a little, and he feels his chest tighten; is there a better sound? You saunter towards him, the bow still in hand, but hanging loosely at your hip. "It is because I am good." He knows that, no one could deny your skill, but you seemed so confident with every shot—no matter how distracted, you always calmed enough to shoot a perfect shot.

"You are impossible." This time he does not hesitate as he hands you another arrow, again watching as you laugh a little and then prepare another shot—the breath, the calm... the release. Yet he cannot stop looking, he tries not to stare, to give you space, but it seems impossible. He gravitates towards you, admiring your soul and every fiber of your personality—and it gives him hope, because he spent so long wondering if this could ever amount to anything real. And it did, at least for him— he fell in love with his brothers lover... but it's more complicated than that, because you are his wife. Not his brothers. He was meant to love you, at least a little and now he does, but you seemed meant for Francis. So what can he do except hope his love is enough, and just wait. While that hurts to think about, he wants to believe that you love him just a little. Just enough, to make all of this worthwhile.

"But honestly, you're a much better shot than me." Bash watches, and you smile— pulling back the drawstring without an arrow notched, staring at him.

"How so?" His question is somewhat quiet, not meek, just not loud. The kind of volume when speaking to someone who matters, especially when they say something that shocks. Something that causes his eyes to widen just a little and lips to part. Yet the shock fades, and is replaced with those same understanding eyes that read them so well.

"Well—" You pinch the shaft of the arrow and swing it a bit, preparing your position. "You're able to shoot moving targets, and shoot while moving on a horse. A skill of its own." You glance back, "You also haven't looked at the target once-" Your lips curl into a grin, as his eyes do the thing. That slight widening before settling, a small scrunch to compliment his smile.

"I can't help it, you're stunning with a bow." He pauses. "Stunning in general."

You smile, meeting his eyes quickly— trying to read, to understand what's going on in his head. Yet he seems so honest. Not a lie on his tongue. You let go, never breaking eye contact.

"No one should be allowed to be that stunning while shooting a bow."

You struggle to keep your eyes open as the sun crests over the center of the sky, shining hard overhead. Seems to brighten not only the sky and heavens, but also the overall mood of the winter home. Mountains surrounding on all sides, tucked in the valley— is the Bourbon summer estate, well protected and well hidden. News of Princess Y/N's marriage spread quickly through Nivarre, with no one seeing it as fair. Yet, within the walls of the estate— words seemed to sharpen. Rumors are exactly that, weapons to bleed men dry; to bleed Bash dry. Shading a hand above your forehead, you spot Bash basking in the sun. His face highlighted in the slanted light and when he opens his eyes, bluer than any sky you've ever seen and deeper than any ocean that could exist.

"Bash—" Then as the shadows cast and his eyes grow weary, you grow concerned. Words had drifted to you through your ladies, but you had hoped to warn him before they reached him. The person who gave you, well everything. He could have said no. Said that he didn't want someone who was used. Left her to her suffering. Yet he didn't. He was kind, and gentle and a husband to a wife who barely knew him. Who loved someone else.

"They think I tricked you. Say I hit you and that you must hide it beneath your dresses. That I'm abusive because how could a princess ever marry me, and I accept it. Some even claim I stole you from France, but I'm sure Francis loves this one though. That we were lovers for many years and Henry refused to give us his blessing, so we ran away to your brothers country." You keep your head low, wishing you had the proper response, but what is right?

"People always talk... especially-" He seems to have a coolness, the cold calm kind. Like an unforgiving wave of icy water.

"About royalty. I know. It's why I stayed away from court, but since I'm married to you. I guess I'll just have to get over it." You extend your hand, but it's pointless as he shakes you off, and puts more distance between you. A long distance. One that feels all too familiar and terrifying.

"Bash—..." But it doesn't reach him, instead he turns on his heel to walk away towards the stables. He's always there, and at least that keeps distance between him and the rumors. Yet as you watch him leave, you fight the urge to call him back— missing him more than you anticipated. That's a feeling you weren't expecting.

Bash seems to regain his composure quickly, putting on a smile as a dumbfounded grin claws its way out. You don't even have to think about it anymore, or pretend to be flattered by his sweet compliments. Instead, there is a gentle honesty to him— a catalyst in your love for him. Not just care, but love. It grows and it's beginning to take root— it's not overwhelming or blooming, but it's there. It's no longer just a possibility, but an inevitability.

Archery had become a pastime between the two of you, a way to bond without forcing conversation. But after the first few times, conversation flowed naturally. You never seemed to run out of things to talk about, and it didn't click all at once— it took time. Took a lot of work to stay close.

"Tell me this, Lord Sebastian of Navarre—how are you blushing after offering me such a gracious compliment?" This causes his cheeks to flush a brighter shade of red, gentle hands taking your waist as he pulls you close.

"That's a title I should never have." You smile, having already dropped your bow—you reach up to stroke his cheek. Feeling the roughness of his facial hair.

"It's a title you deserve." His eyes soften, there's a tenderness in those silvery orbs that completely rewrite the meaning of a soul. What it truly means to be pure of heart. "Not just as my husband. But as the man you are." You place your other hand on his chest over his heart. "The man you are here."

With one of his hands on your waist and the other on your cheek, you lean into the touch. "Can I kiss you?" Can he? Is it too soon? It feels right, this feels more right than anything you have ever done. You nod, not hesitantly or with care, but certain of him.

Kissing him is not scary, or mischievous— it's not hidden in secret passageways and behind locked doors. His lips are warm and gentle, the last time you felt them being your wedding night. Which had not gone as expected. The tenderness of his touch calms the very ocean beneath your feet, and the care in his patience. You part, just briefly— not moving far away. He tries to read you, understand the thoughts hidden behind your expression—trying to put words into describing your eyes.

"Kiss me again like a husband kisses his wife." As opposed to the first one, this one is stronger. His hands holding onto you tightly, afraid you'll leave the moment he lets go. Like some figment of his imagination, a dream. Your eyes shut and he guides you deeper into his arms, you can feel the urgency. Does he really love you? Like this? Enough to kiss you with such a feverish need? Is it possible for anyone to love you the way Francis did? To care for you? It seems so, because Bash isn't close to letting you go. Not now. Not ever. He decided that a long time ago, that he would never stop fighting for you.

He leaves you close together, thumb rubbing along the low point of your cheek just above your jaw—you try to imagine a day you felt safer. A moment. But you can't. "I won't ask if you love me, but I love you, Y/N..." He pauses, cheek resting against your temple. "I've loved you since the night you ran away with me." He has felt the double ended sting of falling for someone who loves another, completely engrossed by someone you can never have. He always thought that between him and his brother, they'd always choose Francis. But with you in his arms, he believes you could choose him. A bastard nobody, with no titles or lands, besides the ones that came with marrying you.

"Bash..." You force him to look at you, humming as that soul becomes all the more enchanting. "I do love you. I admit I love him still, but I love you. More than I ever thought I would." You swallow, "I choose you. Us." You want this, simple— it was hard in the beginning, but now you wouldn't want it any other way. You appreciate him more. "I want this. Not French Court. Not to be some secret. Not Francis. I choose you." And he kisses her again, just as he did before, heart pounding in his chest. To think it is one thing, but to hear it come from your lips is another. It swells and crashes on him, it whisks him away and he is caught in the undertow of your presence.

He didn't seem to get over it though, it took weeks before he came to your chambers again. Before he even looked you in the eye. Bash never seemed to daunted by rumors before, but now that they involve you, he seems to be taking them more personally. You sit in your desk, attending to some duties that your brother asked you to handle while in the country. Guards posted outside as they announce him: "Enter." The guards bow and in comes Bash, bruised from his latest hunt in the mountains. He seems to spend most of his time away from the Villa.

You had come to expect a degree of warmth from Bash, but there is a severe lacking as he bows at the foot of your desk. You smile sadly, setting aside the papers and quill, "I've missed you." He doesn't respond, but instead rises from his low bow as you round the desk. But when you reach out to embrace him, he shakes you off, which is startling.

"You shouldn't." You go to touch him again and feel him flinch away once more, this time you realize it is not because of you, but because of pain. His face contorted even from the softest brush of your fingertips.

"Bash? Let me look." He takes two steps back, but you have him pinned between you and the desk. Your hands reaching out to lift the stained white linen to reveal bruised skin, nasty bruised. Layers of bruises in different stages of healing. "These didn't come from a hunt." You completely obliterate any chance of him lying, bruises like this don't come from falling off your horse. Bash is an expert rider, once perhaps, but there's at least four sets of bruising patterns.

"I'm fine." You press your fingers into his side and he winces abruptly, trying to create space. Which you oblige by stepping back.

"Obviously you're not fine. Strip. And tell me what happened."

"You could at least ask! I'm not some subject to be ordered your royal highness! I'm your husband!" You stiffen, his words hitting you harder than he had intended them to.

"Fine. I'll go find the answers myself." You go to leave and he grabs your arm tightly, his arm extending which stretches his core enough to cause him to heave. You reach out as tenderly as you can manage, and prop yourself under him to give him some stability. "Hey.. hey... I can go— oh Bash, what happened?" You speak hesitantly as he sits on the edge of your bed.

"They hate me." He speaks softly, "Despise me even. And they corner me, and beat me. After awhile I learned it was after I seen with you..." You... your people are the ones doing this to him, putting him through this. "One or two I could handle, but... I just, I'm supposed to be able to protect you and I can't. They get me every time." You nod, reaching out to lift his shirt completely— the bruises not just on his front, but across his entire body.

You stroke his cheek and he leans into your touch, the wet tears pooling against your fingers. "Oh sweet Bash, I'm supposed to be protecting you here." You kiss the top of his head and wrap him into your body, just tight enough to hold him close, but not hurt him. "These are my people." A faction of them that want you on the throne, a female monarch is more controllable and in a Protestant nation— they believe you could be an ideal monarch, with a Protestant counsel behind you. An all male counsel. Having a husband makes it more difficult for them. "My weight to bare." You stroke his hair, "I'll get them." You wonder how many men, what weapons— they obviously didn't want to kill him, just break him. Take away his fight. Break the body and then break the spirit. "Make them all pay."

That night he sleeps with you, head buried in your chest as you offer him the much needed protection. With his body covered, he looks at peace— angelic in the candlelight, and it burns itself into your memory. You'll find them all, Bash managed to give you enough of a description to identify a Lord Versalt. Torture the one, and he'll identify the rest. It'd been weeks since Bash had slept that well.

Two weeks since the kiss, and more kisses followed— some short and sweet, some tender, and some holding more urgency. It's been almost a year since you first came to the Villa, you two have taken care of each other. Healed wounds both mental and physical, and you find yourself laying in the shared room. His hands tangled in your hair as you face each other on the bed, your body curled as you smile through the kiss. The gift of happiness floods through every moment with Bash, "I love you." You whisper, brushing the hair off his forehead— you don't stand a chance when he gives you that smile. The kind the makes all the girls swoon.

“If you keep saying that, I'm going to take you right here." It's light and teasing, far from a serious threat, but you find yourself grinning.

"Follow through then, cause I love you." You say with a cheeky grin, barely able to keep a fairly straight expression. At first there is confusion and then he kissing you more deeply— those urgent kisses, but this is different because he is slowly removing your clothes.

#imagines #imagine #bash imagine #sebastian de poitiers #sebastian x reader #requests are open #reign tv show #reign imagine #multi part story #multi part fic

112 notes · View notes