Part One: Pre-series
"What's this?"
"A wedding ring. It's modest I know. It belonged to my grandmother." 1x18
"What's this?"
"Your grandmother's ring." Replied Diane de Poitiers, returning to her seat and picking up her needlework.
"Splendid! My life is now complete. I shall add it to the collection in my jewelry box and wear it every day to make the other girls jealous."
"Don't be flippant, Sebastian." Said Diane calmly, not even looking up at her son.
It was almost impossible to cause the beautiful Diane de Poitiers to lose her temper, and even in anger, her voice hardly ever rose above a honeyed whisper.
"Well then, Mother, please enlighten me regarding your expectations. Why aren't you keeping the ring and wearing it yourself?"
"It was bequeathed to you. You are come of age now; I felt it was time for you to have it."
"To put it on the finger of some girl, you mean."
"To remember who you are," snapped Diane, finally raising her head to look at him. "You are a king's son and fortunate to be in his favor, but you come from very little. The simple ring in your hand is all I have to offer you. I hear the stories of your little adventures. Tread carefully, my son. We both know from experience that there is a fine line between the King's indulgence and his disfavor. Whatever status you may ever hold in this life will have to come directly from Henry or his son, Francis."
"My brother."
"Catherine's son. The legitimate heir to the throne of France. Make no mistake, there are people in court who would be glad to see your grandmother's ring become the only thing you have to offer as a future to a woman..."
"Well," said Bash, interrupting. "While this is certainly a lovely little motherly lecture, I am currently late for a standing engagement with Father. And, you've just said yourself, it is important to continue to please him. Excuse me."
As he approached his own chambers, the tiny ring clutched in Bash's hand seemed to burn his skin more and more. The ring had been an object lesson, not a gift. But what irritated him the most was how little responsibility his mother seemed to take for his current situation. Bash certainly hadn't asked to be the bastard son of a king's favored mistress. But since that was his lot in life, he had done his best to make the most of it. Bash's relationships with both his father and Francis had been strong for years. More recently, his favor at court and his relationship with the king had opened many doors for him involving travel, status, wealth, and women. The implications of his mother's lecture, the idea that she felt he would somehow manage to destroy the life he had built based on what little she had given him, grated on him.
Bash chucked the ring into a cupboard. He was tired of looking at it, tired even of thinking about it. It was practically useless to him anyway. No woman of status would happily wear such a modest ring, and if he ever fell so far out of favor with the King that it was the only ring he had to offer, he would most likely be as good as exiled… or dead.
Not that any of that mattered, thought Bash, as he headed for the stables. Given everything he had seen during his life at court, regardless of money or title, he knew one thing about his life with certainty. He was NEVER getting married.