King Baldwin Iv - Blog Posts

things i did instead of studying 💕💕💕

ironically, i did better for my exams this time

Hello, could I do one where Baldwin's wife is pregnant and at the time of delivery it is not a baby but rather she has 3 triplets and the reaction of those present and Balwin are almost fainting

King Baldwin x reader - The rays of the sun

A/N: I love this prompt, our king deserves a family as big as his heart😔😔

Plus I don't wanna spoil anything but this is actually perfect for this other fic I got requested, kind of like a part one if you will!

Oh and the painting is "First Steps" by Gustave Léonard de Jonghe:))

Summary: the queen of Jerusalem has finally gone into labor. Voice spread through her pregnancy of her unusually wide belly, one that foreshadowed a strong and vigorous heir to the throne. But... was it just one?

Warning: pregnancy, labor and childbirth (mostly mentioned, no real graphic descriptions), the story is mostly through Baldwin's perspective

The situation was unlikely, to say the least. For instance, the whole kingdom had gotten used to the thought of their king never fathering a child of his own. It was why they always kept Sybilla close, after all: to ensure an heir with her son, lest they did not find a more fit candidate for the crown. And one could’ve claimed that Baldwin had been waiting so long to name his young nephew his successor as a result of that caution so typical of his every action, but those who knew him better knew the truth.

He was hopeful, perhaps even foolishly so. He dreamed of being eased from this blight of his by God, even in just a small part. His life had already been immolated to repent the sins of his kin, but why should be denied of giving life, when he still had some? Why couldn’t he father a child, not even many, just one would suffice.

During some of his many prayers, he’d pray for such a blessing. Bandaged hands pressed together, elbows bent, resting on the dark wood of the kneeler; his head was low, his voice muffled by the thick barrier of his mask. He prayed for forgiveness, as always, and just as often he then prayed for guidance. And when he felt most selfish, that was when he added one last prayer for this one favor, this one child.

He felt even more of a fool than before when he then had his servants help him up, when the prayer was over. He felt he insisted on asking for something he knew he’d never have. But just like the physicians had excluded the chance of his ever fathering any offspring, so did they exclude the chance of him ever riding on a horse again, or fighting into battle, or live long enough to see the day he’d be wed to anyone. They had been proven wrong so many a time before, why should this one time be any different?

It was the young man in him speaking so foolishly, he was aware of that. No king should ever dwell so long on such a foolish matter. He had his heir, a direct child of his own bloodline. He should leave the matter, and focus what little would be left of his life to his duties that kept the kingdom alive and safe.

Yet each night he left those duties to reach his bed for a deeply desired rest. Each night his wife would be already there, standing by the windows like the most holy of visions. And each night she’d guide him to bed, and he’d run his hands over her hair, underneath her nightgown, down her sacred body. And the sweet embrace that followed was the start of a newfound hope, of that same wish he had harbored all day before and had tried to muffle down for just as long.

But how could he blamed for wanting a child, if not for the natural wish to have one, then for the blessing that would be fathering a child to a woman such as his beloved wife. She grew more beautiful with each breath, in his eyes, and each word he uttered made her more and more wise. 

He was teased at court for his infatuation with his queen. Of that, he was well aware. But he never did anything to put them to silence; he liked hearing his love being compared to that of the knights of the many ballads from the land of his fathers. It was surely better than the vile comments about his illness, anyway. But regardless of that, the point in his head was that no one should need any more reason to understand why he’d want to be a father, when his luck in love bested anyone else in this kingdom.

And so he was even more startled when he came to find his prayers were answered.

“Would you repeat that?”

“The queen is with child, your Grace. The symptoms are clear. Any movement is not yet to be seen, but it won’t be long before it is certain.”

“..Call the queen to my chambers as soon as she is disposed.”

The physician tried to feign his surprise, but it was a hard task. It was difficult for everyone to understand just how such a thing could occur. Of course, the bitter tongues of court would’ve wanted to spread soon away the venomous accusations of the queen’s infidelity, but it just wouldn’t have been plausible. The queen was faithful to her husband, she had not once left the palace without the king in months, nor had she received any valiant guests, or slept with anyone but her own husband in their shared chambers.

It was just so infuriatingly impossible that the babe couldn’t have been anyone’s but Baldwin’s! But then again, until the babe moved, a pregnancy was an uncertain thing. And so the weeks passed, and the child soon kicked with vigor inside his mother’s womb.

And as everything of this situation, the rest of the pregnancy was all one big mystery. First, she craved sweets, an indisputable sign of a girl to come. But then she favored salty meats and sour fruits, and no physician at court could tell if it would be a girl or a boy anymore. And then she looked radiant through every second of the pregnancy, yet the belly was round and wider by the day. It became worrisome how wide it had grown, in fact. Some physicians began to fear for the worst, for some complications with the child or more likely the demise of the queen during birth.

It haunted Baldwin. Such joyful news felt stained by the imminent danger of possibly lose his child or wife, perhaps even both of them. And he could do little to defeat God’s plans on one’s life. That, he knew far too well.

But he wasn’t entirely powerless before this distressing matter. No, he could still give her all he could, from the most comfortable of pillows, to the best of flowers, and down to the most accurate recreations of her cravings. Whether this months would be her last or whether the child won’t see the light of day, Baldwin made it his one greater duty to give her what most women could only dream in the months of their pregnancy.

And then the water broke, and she along with her maidens were closed off in her own chambers. Baldwin wasn’t allowed in, at least not until the babe was out and checked. And so he waited, patiently, agonizingly. He waited outside, in the hall, ignoring the pain of his joint or the exhaustion of his mind. She was facing far greater pains, he thought each time a new ache mate itself known in his body. 

But if such a wait would be agonizing in any condition, the risk of it possibly being the cause of his love’s demise made it all the more painful, all the more unbearable. He had to stand outside and listen to every groan, every cry, every scream. The labor was long, the door sealed, the ladies inside adamant that such moment would not be compromised.

It was the end of the second day of labor. The light of sunset peaked through the corners of the dawn. It looked like fire to Baldwin, like the very same doors of hell. If anything, such a gruesome thought was fueled by the deafening silence that had replaced the frenzy inside the room. Those were quiet, agonizing moments, where he had to remind himself to breathe, or else he would’ve soon succumbed to the lack of air in his lungs.

And then he heard it: the wailing of a child, a sound so raspy and loud and full of all life’s strength. And the fire of the sunset turned back into bright rays of the sun, and all around him, things felt lighter. Everything felt hopeful.

He all but ignored the customs of such occasions right then and there. When the doors opened and a maid opened her mouth to announce the babe’s birth, he had almost pushed her out of the way to rush to his wife’s side. He took her hand, sweaty and trembling like his own underneath the bandages.

“Where… where is…” he struggled to speak, to breathe. Surely it was mostly caused by the exhaustion he had procured himself during the wait of the labor, but an evenly great cause was the sheer emotions of what he had just been given by God. By her,

She lifted her free hand with the weak remnants of her strength. She pointed at where the maids and a few physicians were fussing around a table. They were checking and cleaning the babe. By tradition, Baldwin should’ve waited outside, and they would’ve brought the babe up to him for him to see and declared his child and possibly heir.

But since he was here, there was no point in making him wait..

The maids brought a bundle of fine silks to the king; blue, like the color of the proud house of the monarch. “Your highness, your son is here.”

The words echoed through Baldwin’s words like a far tune. He wished he could take the veil covering his mingled face, to hold his son as it would be proper. But he couldn’t, and he knew it. The babe was healthy, and so was the mother: the physicians were positive that it would survive the contact to the leper father, yet the sight of such a mutilated face could risk the most fearful reaction in a boy so small.

But holding him like this would suffice just as much. He looked back at his wife while his arms were busy holding the boy. She was visibly tired, perhaps even pained, but she found it in her to smile nonetheless. But his wife’s joyful eyes and his son’s soft weeping did little to muffle the worried mumbles of the maids.

“What is it that worries you?” He didn’t even try to hide his concern in his tone. He was worried, scared, terrified, even. And if they knew anything if this deal, he wished to know it all.

The servants paled. Clearly they wished to find the right words quickly and efficiently, in hopes of soothing their king. “I-It’s just her belly that startles us, your Grace. The babe is healthy, but far too small to explain such round dimensions..”

“Then what do you suggest is the meaning of this?”

“Excluding any ill fate, her Grace may still be bearing a child.” And as if on tune, the torturous contractions caught the queen again, not even an hour later. Given the worry of another child on the go, sparked by one of the eldest maids, bless her heart, nobody left the room to stay prepared if the case of another child was to occur. This quickened the process even if just by a little. But the king’s presence caused many maids to fuss, especially those with more experience on these delicate births.

He was escorted out with impressive haste, just before the contractions resumed. 

And again he stood there, helpless and waiting patiently for the unknown fate of his beloved wife. Another hour passed before the doors opened again. Baldwin was horrified at the sight of the midwife who opened the door for him; she was elderly, clearly having seen more births than anyone in that room had ever seen in their lives. Yet she was pale, shocked. Baldwin feared the worst.

“Where is the queen?” In his voice, the trepidatious hesitation was as clear as daylight. The woman lowered her gaze obsequiously, as it would have been proper for her to have done from the beginning, speaking to the king.

“She is resting, your highness. The births have been tiring beyond measure.”

“ Births?”

“Yes, your Highness. Her majesty has given you no less than three babes.”

Baldwin felt groggy. A single child was already a living miracle for him, and he blessed every saint whose name he had ever heard for this gift. But three? What immense event had just happened? Which angel had he been fortunate enough to marry, who had enlightened his life.

“Three? How? What are they like? Are they all well?” His words were stumbling over each other like a child eager to hear a secret. The midwife, slightly overwhelmed by his sudden enthusiasm, managed a small nod.

“Yes, your Highness, all three are in good health. Two boys and a girl, blessings from the heavens indeed. But they are… quite small, your Grace. Premature, but the Lord granted them a strong will to live, it seems. They are currently with the queen, who is also in surprisingly good spirits, considering the ordeal she has just faced. She insisted on seeing you as soon as the physicians allowed you to enter her chambers."

Her words were enough. Baldwin had heard enough. Now he needed to see, in hopes of seeing what sounded like a mirage come to be. His cerulean eyes were still wide in shock and wonder, the only peak at his current turmoil behind the white silk of the veil covering his wretched face. He took a deep breath, which did little to ease his beating heart and hazy mind. "I… I must come to her at once.. Yes.. yes, it is best if I do.."

The midwife nodded her understanding, though the fear in her eyes was palpable. She knew the customs and the risks better than anyone in this room, but she was also aware of the king's desperation. "Your Grace, the physicians are still… attending to your wife. It might be better if you waited just a bit longer, until they ensure she is well enough to receive you."

Her objections fell to deaf ears. The young king was already making his way forward into the queen's quarters. The midwife's voice seemed to fade away from his mind as soon as his foot passed through the doorstep. Everything else seemed to disappear all the same, in fact. All that Baldwin could see, all that he could focus on, was right before his eyes. There she was, splayed on the bed just as she was before, though twice as exhausted. She glowed brighter than the Holy Grace in that moment, despite the sweat that clung to her body and clothes, despite the faint stains of blood pooled around her womb.

And then he turned, and there, in the corner of the room, was the table where the physicians had placed the babes to ensure their health. The babes. His babes. He had thought that nothing could be more overwhelming than the love he felt for his wife, yet the moment his eyes fell upon them, he realized he was wrong. The emotions that flooded his heart were too strong to be contained by his human shell. The two boys were wrapped in soft linens, and their tiny hands were curled into fists as if they were already thrilling to face the world. The girl, on the other hand, had her eyes open, staring straight at him as if she had known him all her life, which she had, in a way. Her eyes were so big that one would've mistook them for round gems, Baldwin was sure of that. And staring into those oceans of blue felt like plunging into an endless void from which he was not sure there was a way to escape, nor did he wish to find one. He thanked God that the other two children were still asleep, lest their own gazes gave him the final blow to his already weakened heart.

The physicians looked at him, all of them in awe of the king’s condition. They had never seen the Leper King so… so alive, so full of color and vigor. It was like watching a man who had just been granted a second chance at life, and they were all too aware of the gravity of the moment to dare interrupt it. If the main worry had been whether or not he ever would've had an heir of his own before, now it was whether or not these little miracles would be spared from the same wretched destiny their father had been bestowed with. For now, the physicians could find nothing but good signs of health, but would that last for long? The question stayed in the air, lingering, unspoken, unanswered.

"Baldwin?" The voice was faint, but the king's ears, ever so sharp, caught it immediately. It was his wife's, groggy and weak, yet still filled with a warmth that could've melted any heart, even the most icy one of them all. He rushed to her side, his boots echoing in the chamber like thunder. She looked up at him, her eyes glazed over by the pain of childbirth, yet still gleaming with the spark of life. And she smiled. As tiredly as it was, she smiled up at him just as she'd done a million times and more. He smiled back at her, too, though the veil over his face prevented her from seeing anything more than the way his eyes were curving up into small half-moons. Her hand weakly moved up to that same veil, weak and shaky, yet determined to admire the face of the man whose children she just gave birth to. He obliged to her silent request with a trembling haste, as quickly to obey as a devoted knight to his princess.

Her gaze took a moment to adjust to the light that reflected from the window behind them through the stark white of the veil's fabric, but she never once averted her eyes. They were still beautiful, those eyes of his, as blue as the sea and as piercing as the sharpest blade. His skin, however mangled by his cursed diseas, was a sight she had grown accustomed to. The leprosy was leaving its marks, sure enough. But she didn’t see a monster. She didn’t see a king. She just saw her husband. And he knew that in that gaze of hers there was anything but judgement.

He leaned down to kiss her forehead, feeling her warmth, feeling life emanating from her. The same life she had just given him, not once, but thrice over. "I can't believe it," he whispered, his voice hoarse from the tension of the past hours. "Three… three miracles."

The emotional edge to his voice was an unusual sight for anyone who knew the young king. Yet she paid no mind to it. No man safe of mind with an ounce of a heart would have any other reaction, given their current situation. A small, weak huff that supposedly resembled a laugh came out of the woman's lips, followed by an equally weak and raspy voice. "Three, no more this time. This, I promise you."

Her words were a jest, yet they bore the weight of a thousand truths. The queen was known for her strength, but even she had her limits. Giving birth to three lives at once would draw that limits to most. The room felt warmer than before, perhaps due to the sheer joy that had flooded it. Or perhaps it was the heat of the many candles that had burned themselves to the end to bring light to this moment.

Baldwin's eyes sought hers, and for a moment, he saw himself reflected in her pupils. His fears, his hopes, his love. The sight of his skin was stark in the candlelight, paler in some spots than she had ever seen before. The leprosy had claimed more of him than ever before. Yet she didn't recoil, didn't even flinch. Instead, she reached up to gently trace his cheek with a trembling hand. Her touch was feather-light, a stark contrast to the roughness of his own skin. And all she could see, all she cold feel was the presence of the man she had promised to love, through sickness and health, till death did them part. He leaned close to her, slave to her every command. Her lips, tired and soft, brushed against the numb skin of his cheek. A shaky breath left his lips. And his eyes closed.

The world seemed to have resumed its cycle, at last. Baldwin felt the faint whiff of air against his skin with his wife's every breath. The muffled whines of the triplets quietly echoed against the walls of the queen's chamber. They'd soon be brought to Baldwin, for him to admire each one of his children and to have their mother tend to them as she'd wished to do. But not yet. For now, Baldwin let himself feel. The rays of the sun felt warmer against his skin, perhaps because they now felt like the testament to the blessing he's been entrusted with by his Lord. The blessing which was now resting amidst the cures of physicians and midwives alike, the blessing to which Baldwin would immolate his life to, from this day forward.

Would Baldwin Iv be jealous if the reader was hanging out with someone he didnt really like?

King Baldwin IV - Untrusting jealousy

A/N: We're so back!! I'm so sorry for my long ahh hiatus but now that school is painfully slowly coming to an end, I figured it'd be the best time to catch up on all the unfinished projects and requests I've gathered in these past months. Also, I'm taking the chance to announce that I've updated my masterlist to add all the new fandoms I'm willing to write for, so go check on it if you're interested in commissioning any new works :))

Also the painting is "Stańczyk" by the Polish painter Jan Matejko

Warnings: none, jealousy, maybe? reader is gn

I really can't see him as the type of man to actually show any sort of jealousy

In this situation, I'd say he would act in a more "cautious" sort of way

If he didn't like someone, knowing his character, it would be because of something that makes them outright unworthy of his trust

He isn't the irrational type, so while his reasons to dislike this third party will surely be well founded, he isn't going to stop you from hanging out with them

He would totally warn you, of course. Assuming you were together, you'd be his partner and most trusted person in his life. Your safety would be his priority, so of course he'd want you to at least make informed decisions

That being said, if things were to escalate towards something he deemed potentially dangerous, I can see him acting out on it more. Still, nothing exaggerated or outwardly jealous, but he'd definitely pull you to the side and talk to you about these worries of his

In the end, it all really boils down to his desire to shield you from danger's way. Baldwin isn't the jealous type, it's simply not part of who he is

I know you said that Baldwin would want to talk things out if an argument ever arose but can you do a scenario of where he yells at you and then reader gives him the silent treatment? Thank you pooks

I love that you guys are just suckers for angst as I am lmaooo.

But really he's just not the type to ever raise his voice in a conflict, much less with his wife of all people. He's a pacifist at heart, he wants to handle things in a level headed manner.

The only scenario in which he would SLIGHTLY lose his temper is if you ever did something that put you in serious danger, but he would never even nearly reach the point of yelling or anything.

I love King Baldwin IV too! Such a deep and good soul! ☺️ I love to imagine him with a charitable and loving woman, like the late and great Princess Diana. Someone beautiful but so soulful in how she gives love to the people. Running charities, visiting the orphanages and the sick and wounded; but still has a smile and comforting hand to give to others who need it. He deserves a Queen of caliber.

Oh for sure!! And the love he's getting lately is just what he deserves, he's the perfect example of how a good soul is far more worthy than a pretty face (even though I also find devilishly handsome but that's not the point).

I absolutely agree with you, that seems about the perfect match for him! I think he'd truly need to have someone with qualities close to his own in his life. Both in fiction and real life, he's always been surrounded by power-greedy people who stuck around just to try and get what they wanted, not do what was nest for the people and the kingdom.

He'd want complicity with his queen, he'd need to have someone who shares his values and puts them into action. They'd truly be the power couple of their time together.

NOT A REQUEST BUT HEAR ME OUT, THIS IS PURE BRAINROT

Having Baldwin with someone who's a knight, his face is pretty much as bad or even worse condition compared to the king himself so he covers it with his helmet. Idk i just keep imagining my knight OC carrying Baldwin around when the leprosy is acting up

Ohhh that's a nice concept!!

I'd like to think that having to grow up with leprosy and coming to terms with the damage it had caused him, Baldwin would be used to looking at people beyond their physical appearance.

It would honestly be an amazing dynamic, or at least I think so since I'm honestly a sicker for that knight + noble romantic trope.

Feel free to text me about your scenarios and your OC in the future, I'd love to hear more of your ideas💗💗

Hello! I simply adore your writing!! It’s so sweet and the way you write about love is so captivating and beautiful! If you are able to take requests, I would like to make one! Please do not feel pressured to take it if you are busy, take care of yourself first and foremost!

This may be a slightly longer ask, so I do apologise for that! I’ve recently fallen into the Kingdom of Heaven rabbit hole and I do not see a way out, and this is purely going to be a self-indulgent ask based on a rather strange medieval themed dream I had.

Once again, please do not feel pressured to take this request! If you just want to enjoy reading this snippet of an idea, please do so! And I hope your day has been wonderful!

☀️ Strange dream anon

-

The newlywed wife of Baldwin, who is rather quiet and shy at first, the daughter of a lord or a king from a distant country (completely up to you on this one! It wasn’t clear in my dream), who has been taught how to wield a sword and is quite proficient with a weapon in hand after her father realised he would not be able to protect her his entire life, and defence against a weapon is a skill that she would need in a land foreign from her own.

It is a mere handful of months after the marriage that Baldwin has to leave the castle for a matter regarding politics that would take at least three weeks, if not more due to travel. While he is away, the new queen is left without a large number of the knights, who have gone with their king and thus, the palace is very still and quiet. There are of course enough men about that she would be safe, but it is still has a starkly different aura to when it is filled with people.

It is during this time that a group of assassins sneak into the castle at the dead of night, their intent is to murder the queen and her guards to leave a message for Baldwin that no matter how hard he tries, he would never be capable of defending his people (especially those closest to him). A tactic, to weaken him and make certain his enemies and subjects know he is a weak king.

They do not expect however, that the queen whom they’re attempting to kill can wield a sword in each hand and has been prepared to fight to the death from the moment a sword was placed into her hands years ago.

(In my dream I saw the queen silently running through the hallways knocking out the assassins, hiding in the shadows to strike, climbing out a window to get to a higher level of the castle, it was both awesome and rather funny). She gets the rest of the guards to help her, and together they manage to subdue most of the attackers.

Baldwin returns home the next day, exhausted and drained from the travel and stress, he simply wants to spend some time with his wife to forget about the world around him for just a moment, yet when he enters through the gates one of the guards informs him of the attempted assassination on the queen.

Imagine the surprise he felt when enters the castle to see half of the assassins knocked out, and the other half gagged and tied up, ready to be questioned.

And his wife? The worst of her injuries is a bloodied nose that stopped bleeding hours before he had arrived.

-

I’m not certain how to end it, my dream unfortunately stopped here, however I imagine there would probably be a rather sweet ending, Baldwin fretting over his wife after learning from the guards what she did, and his wife becoming more open with him, a much more relaxed and bubbly version of her coming out of her shell.

Thank you for reading!!

Hi anon, thank you so much for sharing your story! I myself find a lot of inspiration in my own dreams, so I'm glad to hear I'm not the only one lol.

As of now, I've been taking a break from writing, but your story is so interesting!! I might just save it up in my drafts for when I start writing again.

I honestly looove the idea of a strong and independent Queen to rule beside Baldwin, he just seems like the type of man to appreciate having such a woman by his side.

Also, thank you so much for your sweet words, it really means a lot more than you can imagine to hear them (or better read them)🫶🫶

Feel more than welcome to share other ideas in the future, I'll be more than happy to read them and eventually save them up in my drafts for the future!!

I have a request, if youre taking them.

Baldwin's wife sneaks into the battle in 1177 with sixteen year old Baldwin, his reaction and what not. make it your own, just thought this would be cool

King Baldwin x reader - My archangel

A/N: I absolutely LOVE this idea! I've never thought of a scenario like this before, so thank you so so much for the suggestion<3

Sorry if this took so long btw, I haven't been active lately because of school and work😔😔

As always, painting is "The Crown of Love" by John Everett Millais (it's so funny to me for no reason, it just makes me think of how Baldwin would be physically dragging you out of danger).

Summary: During the most importante battle of his life so far, the last person king Baldwin expected to see on the battlefield was his newlywed wife

Warning: war, but it's more of a background thing, mentions of injuries and a hint at misogynism

Word count: 5433

It had been decided. Jerusalem's knights and soldiers would be riding towards Saladin's army at dawn, led by their king, King Baldwin IV of Anjou. Your Baldwin.

The mere idea that tomorrow your husband would find himself fighting face to face against the most fearsome of his enemies terrified you, especially knowing that you could do nothing to protect him. He had expressly said he did not want you or his sisters anywhere near the battlefield, it was too risky. You should have waited for his return, for him to be victorious astride his steed, now lying lifeless on a black bed.

You closed your eyes, begging your mind to spare you from the projection of that macabre image in your head. But you could do nothing against these emotions, which were tearing at your mind and spirit. You could not remain still and impassive, obedient and elegant as you always were as a young princess, then as a wife and now as a queen.

No, that image of you had to slumber, if only for a while. You did not have your kingdom on your mind at that moment, only Baldwin and the overwhelming desire to be close to him.

You cursed your nature for making you a woman, for not having had the opportunity to learn the art of arms and war. You cursed your long robes that prevented you from any daring movement, and your limbs because even if they were able to move freely they would not have the strength to even wield a sword.

As Baldwin fell asleep in your arms, exhausted by the fatigue that this imminent battle was costing him, and you held him close to your heart as if to compel him eternally into your embrace, you weaved a plan in your mind. A plan not to leave him alone at dawn, to stay as close to him as possible.

Because even if it was the day God would claim your husband's soul, at least you wanted to be near him as he took his last breath.

How selfish you were, not even death would have been left for him. But then again, poets have been saying it for centuries, love is the gravest form of madness.

You woke up in an empty bed, the spectre of a kiss floating on your bare shoulder where Baldwin's lips had rested a few moments before, when he had to arouse himself to lead his army into battle. And despair pervaded you almost immediately, when when you woke up still no idea had come to your mind to stay by his side, after you had hoped that sleep would grant you a solution to your problem.

Unable to hold back tears of frustration and despair, you summoned your favourite handmaiden, your nurse, old to almost retirement but cunning as a mischievous child. You wept on her welcoming lap, clutching the fabric of her robe in your fists.

"Oh Agnes, how unfair is my fate as a woman. I am asked to stand by my husband's side all my life and yet I am denied a place beside him in these dark times. And they tear him from my arms and leave me here, alone and helpless, these monstrous Saracens!" She looked at you with sympathetic eyes, stroking the long hair that fell from your shoulders, which resembled the waves of the sea as they shook slightly from your sobs. "What can I do, Agnes? You who always have a quick tongue to give solutions to my every worry, tell me what I can do, before his horse and troops are too far away to be seen."

She, like a mother consoling a child who has injured himself while playing, took your face with one hand, inviting you to turn your gaze towards her. As she wiped the tears that streaked your cheeks with her thumb, she spoke softly to you, although her tone had a hint of her typical mischief in it: "My lady, weeping over your fate does not suit you. Instead, I propose you run. Make haste to the armoury, there you are sure to find armour left behind by some lord. Do you follow me? Well, you will simply have to put on the armour, carrying a pair of your husband's breeches underneath. And keep your helmet tightly closed, so that it cannot be seen that beneath the armour there is not a brutish knight, but a beautiful queen.

Go out of the palace through the servants' passages, and buy the horse of the first man you find. Not yours, in the royal stable they would notice his absence. And then all that remains is for you to ride, ride as fast as you can, to reach the Christian encampments as soon as possible, which by then will have been set up. Remain aloof, and reveal yourself to your husband only. And do so at night, in his tent, where no unwanted eyes can see your unexpected encounter. Is it all clear, my lady?"

You merely nodded frantically with eyes wide in wonder and relief. You practically leapt into the air, quick to grab the first slip you could find and a pair of cheap shoes that you could ruin with all your impending travels. You were about to leave the room, but stopped for a moment at the threshold, before turning back to Agnes to hold her tightly in a warm embrace.

"What would I do without you, my dear. You are even better than a guardian angel, I wouldn't be surprised if one day you left some white feathers behind!" The woman squeezed you affectionately before pushing you away playfully, urging you to get out and go and do whatever she directed. "It is the job of a nurse, to solve a child's problems in the same way as a mother. But hurry now or the battle will be over before you have even found a helmet!"

You laughed lightly as you wiped the dried tears from your cheeks, wasting no more time in rushing to get what was necessary to implement your plan. You rushed in front of the crate containing Baldwin's clothes, tossing robes and shirts in the air until you found breeches fit for a ride. You hastily donned them, then dashed down the long corridors of the palace.

Once in the armoury, you began to spin like a wheel, desperately searching with your eyes for any armour. You weren't picky, anything would have been more than enough: you'd have been fine with just a breastplate, chain mail, simple shoulder straps,… But most of all, you needed a helmet. And that you found almost immediately in your mad search. It was crudely moulded and already bore a few dents on the sides, but you paid no attention to it, it was enough to conceal your identity.

You also found a breastplate, and that was all you needed. You considered taking a sword with you too, but quickly changed your mind: it might be foolish to most, but you hoped that if an enemy found you unarmed, his honour would prevent him from challenging you to a fight.

And then, your focus on your sword quickly faded as you remembered that you still had no horse to reach the battlefield. Running awkwardly, like a child ambitiously trying on his father's far too large armour, you stepped back into the corridors, this time frantically searching with your eyes for a servant to follow towards the back exit.

It must have been a hilarious scene from an outside observer, a burly swineherd looking perplexed over his shoulder as a half-armed knight los eguiva like a tin puppet through the narrow corridors. But the scene was short-lived, for after a couple of turns you finally reached the palace exit, and emerged into the crowded streets of the city.

I had to move my helmet slightly above my eyes to better see the road around you, scanning the area for any horse. You could only see two camels, a few cows, a hen with her small flock of chicks, but no horse in sight. But just when you were about to give up hope, a mysterious force swept over you.

More than mysterious force, you were almost overwhelmed by a horse held on the bridle by a dirty, smelly man. "Out of the way, kid!" Looking at the man with wide eyes, taking good care to make sure your helmet covered your features well, you strained to speak in the most naturally deep voice you could muster, attempting to fool the yokel into mistaking you for a mere boy.

"Sir how much… how much are you asking for your horse?" He laughed, opening his mouth wide and exposing his few remaining teeth, yellow and frayed, and looked at you with a look of paucity and mockery, "You're going off to war without even a horse? The Saracens will impale you like a spit, son. Not that the battle would do you any good either way, with the child king we have, they will all be wiped out. before they even reach those bloody Arabs!”

You clenched your jaw so tightly that you thought your teeth might blow out from the pressure, so hard were you trying to suppress your anger at that disrespectful commoner. Breathing slowly, trying to calm your nerves, you spoke in stiff, icy words, "30 shillings. And you leave me the saddle" The man's eyes widened, incredulous at how much a young man was willing to pay for his old, shabby horse. But he wasn't complaining at all; in fact, better for him if the thirst for war drove the youth of today to such lengths. If only he had known that it was not the bloodlust of a daring young man that was before him, but instead the affectionate madness of a desperate wife.

He did not even answer, stretched out his open hand in front of him where a moment later a bag full of coins fell. He opened it for good measure, making sure the hefty sum was true. When he was satisfied, he slowly handed you the bridle, dazed by the small fortune he was holding.

You hoisted yourself awkwardly onto the horse, and it was not a quick operation as it seemed almost impossible for you not to fall off the horse, so much was the armor restricting your every move and weighing you down. After a few minutes of tribulation, you finally steadied yourself in the saddle and with a firm gesture of your leg, spurred the steed, which galloped off in an instant.

At a gallop, the city didn't seem nearly so big. Nor did the streets seem so crowded, perhaps because the people spread out like the sea in front of Moses as you passed, trying to escape the unpleasant fate of being swept away by the running horse and its mysterious rider. You felt as if you were sailing through the waves of the sea, with people's heads bobbing up and down, a current of movement pushing you closer and closer to the city gates. No one paid much attention to you as you crossed the threshold into the kingdom of heaven, most just thought you were a careless rider who had fallen behind, perhaps this was your first battle. Whatever your problem was, it was not about the wall guards. And so your figure disappeared from the sight of the remaining citizens in the city, vanishing into the vastness of the endless desert.

You did not know quite how long you rode, how many hours it took you before you began to locate even the slightest trace of the passage of the army of Jerusalem. At first it was only small details, marks left on the ground, mainly trinkets possibly dropped to the soldiers during the ride. Then the signs of their passage became more prominent, when around a small oasis you even found a few abandoned spears, probably forgotten back by some careless soldier.

And you stopped there for only a moment, as thirst would have prevented you from going any further. As you drank from the body of water, your mind travelled in thought to your husband; who knows if he too drank from this spring? And if so, how long has it been? Will he be far from here? What would he say when he saw you retracing the passage he and his troops were tracing? At that last thought a shiver ran down your spine, most likely he would not be very happy to know you were so close to danger. You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the image of the look that Baudouin would give you if he saw you at that moment, alone, barely armed in the vast and merciless desert, with no escort to protect you…

You only hoped that the surprise and joy of seeing you at such a tragic moment might cloud his mind from any concern he might have for you. In the meantime you had quenched your thirst enough. Regaining the reins of your horse, and after a series of ministrations to remount the saddle, you resumed your ride towards the battle with the unknown outcome.

As you rode with the wind blowing in your face, with nothing to entertain or distract you, your mind could not but return again to Baldwin. You could not help it, for fear for his fate had been tearing at your soul for days without respite, ever since it was announced that a battle would take place.

Baldwin was too young for all this. He was barely of marriageable age, he could barely reign without a regent at his side, he was hardly considered more than a child, many nobles even refused to call him an adult! And then there was his illness, which although not yet crippling, had already begun to expand its deadly effect on his body, numbing his nerves and making it impossible for him to wield his right hand properly. It was really unfair, that a man in his condition should lead an army to what everyone considered certain death.

Death at the hands of the Saracens, who were rumoured to be as many as ten times the number of the army of Jerusalem. A sob escaped from your mouth, followed by a faint stream of tears that ran down your cheeks, but they were short-lived on your face, the dry desert wind dried them in no time.

Only an instant seemed to pass, time to bring a hand to his face to wipe away the dried saline tears. Yet when your gaze focused again on the landscape in front, you saw a few hundred metres away a series of white tents, a few faint rows of smoke rising in the air, a massive cross set with precious gems, leaning against a rough wooden construction. It was the camp of the Jerusalem army.

Getting off your horse, you advanced hesitantly through the camp. Looking around, you noticed the stunned gazes of soldiers and horsemen watching you, some intrigued by your unkempt armor, some confused by your clumsy way of moving. But although the attention of their gazes made you stop breathing, fearing that you had been discovered, but fortunately it was short-lived, all the men were too tired from the exertions of the journey to investigate even this oddity. Taking you for an inexperienced little boy, they looked away from you and proceeded to drag their aching limbs back to their respective tents.

But although no one gave you more than the attention you give any stranger on the street, your heart would not stop beating furiously in its cage. You quivered at the mere thought of seeing your husband again, who although he had recently separated from you, already felt as if you had not seen him for an eternity. And your soul screamed at the idea that this might be the last time you would see him alive, and urged your legs to move faster. From hesitant strides, your gait grew brisk, impatient, and faster and faster until you burst into a frantic run through the expanse of white tents.

You scanned one, two, ten, a hundred, so many that by now they seemed to you an endless bundle of the same white cloth. But although your hope gave no sign of existing from your mission, your legs were beginning to give out under the constant strain you had subjected your body to for endless hours. You had no choice but to stop to catch your breath, resting your hands on your trembling thighs as you gasped for breath. And it was in that very instant, while you neither heard nor saw anything but the roar of your heart echoing in your ears and the rough ground flattened by the heavy footsteps of the soldiers, dark because of the blurred evening light, that you heard it. That voice.

"We will discuss this tomorrow, now I need the rest" "Certainly, my lord." The dialogue was followed by a knight of high lineage who came out of the tent in front of which you had pulled up to rest. He did not even dignify you with a glance, and you could not care less, for it was not him you were interested in. He was the first man to speak who had captured your complete attention, making the whole world fade away around you. It was a jovial voice, full of life despite obvious tiredness. It was a boy's voice. It was Baldwin's voice.

You sidled up to the curtain of the tent and, before opening your mouth, breathed slowly, tending not only to ease your nerves but also to modulate your voice to make it more masculine, deeper. The deception was to be revealed only when you were alone in the tent, away from prying eyes.

"My king, I know you are now bereft of strength, but grant me a brief interview with your majesty." You could visualize him rolling his eyes, puffing silently and running his good hand over his eyes, as he was always wont to do when any courtier demanded his attention while he was already lying in your arms. And as whenever this familiar event took place, similarly Baldwin made an effort in this case to stand up and mutter a reply, unaware that the subject behind the cloth was not just any boy, but his beloved wife. "I'm afraid I'm in no condition for a meeting at the moment. We will discuss whatever you need tomorrow." Panic grew in you hearing him so indisposed. After all, you should have expected it; he had more to think about than granting an interview to an anonymous soldier. In an instant, however, you changed your strategy, if you couldn't convince him you would have to bait him, "Please, sir, give me a few minutes! I bring with me a great surprise, a gift that I know will fill your heart with joy and restore your energy!"

He paused, as if weighing his options. At least that was what you thought, but in truth Baldwin was wondering if he was going crazy. If he had only dreamed, due to exhaustion and fatigue, that the voice speaking to him from outside the tent was not any young man's, but a disguise meant to hide the angelic melodic voice of his beloved wife. Were it really her, Baldwin would not have wasted a moment in throwing open the door for her, taking her into his arms and carrying her to his momentary abode, where her presence alone could be savored by him.

But he knew it could not be possible: you, his beloved wife whose image constantly pervaded his mind, were thousands and thousands of feet away, safe within the walls of your palace, as you had promised him. It was just not possible that you were the one hiding outside the tent, his hopes were just a cruel game of his mind. But by now his attention had been caught by the stranger so eager to talk to the king, to give him this phantom gift. Perhaps there would have been cause for concern, for thought of possible deception or assault by an enemy spy, but Baldwin did not give the thought more than a second's attention, before sighing softly and turning away, gazing back at the white fabrics of the tent. "Very well, come forward then. I hope this surprise you tell me about is really that formidable."

You came close to slinging yourself into the tent, throwing yourself into Baldwin's arms in an instant, and never letting go. But you still couldn't do it; it was too risky. You merely placed a hand on the side of the fabric that closed the curtain, pulling it to go through and letting it fall back behind you. And there you stood, facing Baldwin, clad in that armor far too large for your size, your heart pounding wildly from both the fatigue of the journey and the excitement. And he slowly, with a phlegm as elegant as the waters of a stream, turned to reveal the identity of his mysterious visitor, and you had already freed your face from the tortuous confines of the helmet you had worn for endless hours.

His eyes widened, wide as never before. Perhaps for the first time in his life, Baldwin could say he was truly, truly surprised. A thousand emotions passed from his face, from astonishment, to joy, to anger, and then to sadness, and then to astonishment again. For a moment he seemed about to open his mouth, but he stopped, opting instead to run to you, putting his arms around you, holding you tight and lifting you off the ground so tight was his grip. "My affection, how can you be so foolish! This is no place for you, so far from home, close to the enemy… You promised me you would stay safe, let me go, let me protect you! How could you do something so rash, you who are always so wise? Alone through the desert, what if the enemy had met you before I got here? What would I have done if your lifeless body, tortured by the Saracens, had been brought to me?"

His voice was exhausted, worn out by weariness and emotion that blocked his throat and threatened to make hot tears fall from his white cheeks. His words were harsh and stern, but devoid of any reproach: it was his fear speaking, his fear of seeing you the next day among the stacked bodies of war victims. And as he spoke he held your arms, shook you lightly, and in the process interrupted himself to place chaste kisses on your face, as if through the touch of his lips he was trying to convince himself that you were really there, standing before him. That it was not a mere illusion, a game of his mind.

Gently, with a touch as light as the morning wind, your hands went up his chest to his beautiful face, which you lovingly cupped. "I swore before God that I would not abandon my place at your side until the breath leaves my body. I have enjoyed with you wealth, pomp, and good fortune. But what you have granted me to witness is only half of the aspects of a nuptial union. Poverty, sickness, and the misery of war are the woes that touch every human being, and which two spouses are expected to face together. So now, my king, I beseech you, do not deny me a place at your side as you fight for the honor and freedom of the Holy Land, do not deny me a duty that has been mine since you and I were joined in eternity. It is unjust what you have subjected me to, to have to watch you ride away from me, toward the worst of dangers! And how could you think I would let you go just like that, without opening my mouth? Now we are even, I have retraced the path you yourself have traced, as bereft of safety as you were bereft of my presence. And now together we face this mortal danger, which, however, will never hold a candle to the pain that distance from you brings me!"

Baldwin's eyes softened, though they had a melancholy note in them. He inhaled with shuddering breath, and his grip became softer on your body, his hands descended from his arm to your waist, always holding you as close as physically possible.

"I was always told that silence honors women. This does not suit you, for depriving you of speech robs you of the royalty that makes you my queen. I ask your forgiveness, my angel, for leaving you alone in such a dark time. But try to understand my choice, how self-centered would I have been to ask you to come with me, in the midst of the greatest danger? It was simply too much for me, my beloved, the burden on my heart, begging me to do all that was permissible to keep you safe, even if that necessitated keeping you away from me. You are too far away now for me to send you back to the palace with an escort, and my heart could not bear to part with you for even another hour. You will stay here, ruling your people as you should. But please do not do me the wrong of setting foot on that bloody battlefield tomorrow. If even God decides that tomorrow my hour has come, and I fall lifeless on the bloody ground, do not move a step, do not show any sign of weakness. Don't follow me into the afterlife, don't even think about it: I know full well that I will never have the honor of lying eternally by your side, I am not worthy of it, so don't jeopardize your precious life in the name of an eternity by my side."

You did not respond, and silence fell. Squeezing together for another moment, you broke away shortly thereafter only to move to the bed set up in his tent, not as luxurious as his usual palace bed but certainly far more comfortable than the hay bunks in which soldiers elsewhere rested. Clinging to each other, you remained silent for a few moments. Or maybe it was hours, neither of you knew. Nor did you care, knowing how much time had passed, how much more separated you from the inescapable fate that awaited you the next day. Silent tears streaked your faces, sobs and sighs filled the air of the room. Then, you took courage to open your mouth, your voice soft and melancholy, weakened by weeping. "How unfair is our fate, affection. How bitter is my soul, knowing that tomorrow I must witness such a slaughter, an open-air slaughterhouse in which you yourself may become yet another victim."

As your first response you heard a snort from your husband, who squeezed you tighter for a moment, as if to secure you beside him, engulf you in his body. His lips pressed against your temple, placing a gentle kiss there, and they remained resting there even as he began to speak, "I know, I know my angel. I too wish things were simpler, that I could retire from this world, go and live with you, away from all this chaos, all this violence. You don't know how much I would have liked to abdicate, to leave the throne to Sybilla and her husband. They would have been good rulers, if only dear William had not passed away so soon. And so we have only to live like this, my beloved. To live perpetrated by the duties and horrors that mankind is capable of, all in the name of God's affection," a pause, a look that said a thousand silent words, and then resumed, "in the name of my affection for you… Tomorrow it will be an honor for me to fight, for like the valiant Lancelot, who fought to his last breath in the name of beautiful Guinevere. I do not care if my life will be endangered, if I return wounded and maimed more than leprosy is already reducing me. No, I don't care, because at the end of the day, whether my heart still beats or not, I know that I will return to lie in your arms.

And that makes up for all the injustices I will have to face." The last words were whispered, softened by a deep affection that numbed the senses and made everything as graceful as the clouds in the sky.

More tears streamed down your rosy cheeks, but you tried to conceal them by hiding your face in the crease of Baldwin's neck. The tone grew sterner for a moment as he resumed speaking, intimating you to listen with a grip on your shoulder. "Just promise me that, in case the battle goes badly, and I am dead and defeated and my whole army with me, promise me that you will escape, as far away as you can. Find shelter at the dwellings of those who have abstained from this conflict, find asylum in churches and in any sacred place you can find. Do whatever you can in order to protect your life. Protect what has always been dearest to me, your life."

"I will, I promise." You would have liked to retort, or much less say what he wanted to hear without really thinking it. But deception did not suit you, not toward Baldwin at least. And the mere thought that that might be his last will, which made you want to throw yourself to the ground and cry every tear you had in your body, also made it impossible for you to disobey that simple request, which after all was the request that you care for your own body and soul.

Whether Baldwin had taken your word for it or not, you were not sure, it was hard to say. It didn't matter, both of you were too tired to linger talking any longer, contrary to your usual routine of endless discussions on all kinds of topics. He whispered something to you in his native tongue, and although the language was vaguely unfamiliar to you and fatigue clouded your mind, you could still discern a sweet "I love you" among the words he spoke.

The next day your awakening was similar to the day Baldwin left Jerusalem: alone in bed, the place where your husband lay still warm. Outside the men were shouting orders and the horses were pawing in irritation at the din. In the distance you could hear the cries of the Saracens approaching, and the horns of war echoing in the air. You tried to peep your head out of the tent, but a guard surprised you right in front of the entrance. "My lady, his majesty has ordered that you do not leave the tent until the battle is over." The tone was authoritative and gentle at the same time, but his spear was stretched across the opening of the tent, an admonition far more direct than his words. You obeyed, as you had promised Baldwin that same evening, and without protest you retreated back inside the small temporary dwelling.

And so you stood there, alone and unaware of what was unfolding beyond the white tent. The last sound you were able to discern was your beloved's voice inciting his men to battle, before the din of war produced such a cacophony that it was impossible to understand a single sentence spoken. They rode for a few hundred meters until they reached the place where the battle would take place. They rode so far that the din they caused as they passed became muffled, barely audible. And perhaps it was for the best, for the distance muffled the atrocious sounds of war, of slaughter.

And so you waited there, within the four fabric walls, white as snow, that you feared at every moment might be stained with blood, friend or foe. You waited for the outcome of the battle, dumb with fear, with tension. You awaited Baldwin's return, dead or alive, victorious or defeated. And you did so by standing there, closer to him than was possible, exhausted and restless at the same time.

A/N: Yallll this was LONGGGG. i really really like how this turned out, and i hope you do too! I'm really sorry for how long it took me to write this piece, but I promise the following ones will take much much less🙏🙏🙏 Anyway, now I gotta go start working on those, feel free to leave a comment or feedback about this fic<3<3

Omg guys thank you so much for your support, we're already at 110 followers🥹🥹🥹

I promise that the next king Baldwin's fic is almost finished, I'll try to post it by the end of the day but I can't make promises..

Again, THANK YOU ALL SO SO MUCH

QUICK MESSAGE

For all the people who sent me fic/headcanons requests, they're being written don't worry! It's taking me much, much longer than expected because of some school issues I've been having, but they're on their way to get posted!

Hopefully they'll be almost all out before june, but I won't make promises.

Just so that you know that your requests haven't been forgotten, here's a list of all requested Baldwin IV fics that I'm working on rn:

Reader sneaks into the battle of Montgisard to reunite with her husband

Reversed "sweetest of melodies" where Baldwin is the one singing

Labor and birth headcanons

Reader giving birth to triplets (will probably be a part 1 for the other following two)

Baldwin has to keep distance from his newborn children

Baldwin and reader spending time with their children

Baldwin falls in love with the bandit that kidnapped him

Baldwin comforting reader after a nightmare

General headcanons

Only case in which Baldwin would lash out at reader

Reader who loves math

Baldwin falling in love with a servant

These should be all, I really wanted to make this post to reassure those who have asked for these fics almost weeks ago, please bare with me I'm trying to write as quickly as possible without lowering the quality of my writing😭😭

ouuu how would Baldwin be when jealous 😩also I love your writing

Heheheh the headcanons are hereee :3

Could you do head canons of jealous Baldwin? I know he was a very honorable person and probably wouldn’t act out on his jealousy but like what are small things he would do if he was??

Eheheh I wrote some jealousy headcanons for him a few days ago, sorry if I haven't been that active lately but school has gotten me on a chokehold😔

Anywayy you can read the headcanons here if you didn't already, hope you like itttt<3

Can I request king Baldwin being jealous I just would want to see how it everything would go down 🤔🤔

King Baldwin x reader - Jealousy

A/N: uuuuh I like this concept!! I can't lie it was pretty hard imagining him being jealous, especially since I myself wouldn't even look in other men's direction have I had Baldwin next to me😩😩.

Anyway, hope you like my interpretation of your prompt :))

Painting is "A Midsummer Night's Dream - Hermian and Lysander" by John Simmons by the way :))

Warning: angst, jealousy and talks of insecurity. Reader is specifically described as being female!

I think it's common knowledge at this point that Baldwin is a man of many virtues, who likes to act guided by reason, not by the heart

The only exception to this ironclad rule is, well, you. You're his beloved wife, the only woman who had ever walked this earth able to make him swoon and lose his collected reasoning, in the name of his love for you

In his eyes, you were the most beautiful creature God has created, and your virtues to him had to be honored and made an example to the rest of the world

He knew you really had not much choice in marrying him: after all, it was a political marriage. But the moment he saw your cheeks get warmer, your eyes avert his own and your breath hitching as he got closer to you

He couldn't fathom how he got so lucky to be worthy of even the slightest of your attention, let alone your love. It was something that he cherished like the holiest of relics, and he made sure to show it by showering you in gifts, spending every breathing moment he had as close to you as possible, learning your passions and hobbies and introducing you to his own

But as much as he loved to shower you in the affection you so much deserved, he remained a man whose mind reigned over every other part of him, and that meant that he knew that he wasn't easy to love, mainly because of his appearance

He wasn't unaware of the fact that his decayed face, his bandaged limbs, his sometimes showing wounds,.. they made people feel a sense of uneasiness, it even repulsed some at the mere sight of it

He knew that a pair of soft, full lips would be preferred by any reasonable woman over his own scarred and partly destroyed ones

He knew that a vigorous man, strong enough to fight and ride on his own, to carry you and protect you would be much preferred to his weakened, often bedridden, mangled body

And he also knew that it was the norm that in most forced weddings, infidelity was so normal that it was even romanticized by singers and poets

So as time went on and his condition worsened by the day, the dooming feeling in his mind that warned him about you possibly growing a liking to someone else started to become more and more present in his mind

Especially one time, when a dashingly handsome prince has just arrived to Jerusalem's court, and he seems that you have piqued his interest, for he seems to make it his personal mission to be as close to you as he possibly can

It's almost as if he's forgotten that you’re married to the king of the realm that is hosting him!

Baldwin first noticed a rather unusual demeanor from the prince on the first night that he's been there, when he started to make a never ending string of jokes, all in order to get a melodic laugh out of you

Then came the walk through the garden, where you usually went with your husband to unwind from your royal duties. And now there he was, this bumptious young prince that acted like he could win you over your own husband

It was right then and there that his own self deprecating tendencies left him to be replaced by a burning flame inside of him, the desire to publicly show your belonging to him and him alone

And so he took it upon himself to muster up all his strength in the following hours, before making his appearance in the main hall. Of course he knew he'd found you there, along with your suitor

Oh how his heart swelled when he saw your eyes, firstly semi-closed from the boredom the prince was causing you, light up at the sight of your husband entering the room

He confidently walked through the room until he was right in front of you, gently taking your hand in his and bringing it to his veiled mouth and holding it there for just a little longer than usual, while his celestial eyes never leaving your own

The simple action left you breathless, mostly because you'd never seen that fire within his stare before, yet in that moment he seemed to you as if he had been possessed by some sort of force that granted him such confidence

Breathing in the sight of you for just a little longer, he then turned his gaze to the prince, talking in a satisfied tone

"What a sight for sore eyes is my wife, am I right? I feel sorry for you that you can enjoy of her company for so little, but I'm afraid that she's needed somewhere else."

If you didn't know him any better, you wouldn't be able to comprehend that there's nowhere where you're needed at the moment other than your husband's arms, and you're glad to fill in the empty spot without hesitation

Because, let's be honest, you took this suitor's attentions as a tool to spur your husband, to test his devotion to you and his desire to have you all to himself. You wanted him to see you as not something gave for granted, no, he had to fight for you like the knights fighting in the name of the women they love in the jousts

And that he did, and you could swear that you have never in your short life have felt so loved and wanted as he picked you up midway through the hallway, smiling playfully at you as you lowered the veil off his face

"You're gonna make me have a run for your attentions, my dear. But I must inform you I'm not prone to sharing when it comes to my beloved wife"

You wouldn't want it to be any other way, as he gently laid you on your shared bed before joining you. And there you spend the rest of the day, after he'd called off both of your daily duties just so that he could have that time dedicated to just the two of you, to make a point of the tie between you two, that no man, much less prince, could ever break

So yes, at times Baldwin can become jealous because of his insecurities and your undeniable beauty, but his combative nature gives him the right spur to make him act on it, never letting anything get in his way

Random question. Do you think Baldwin would like puppies or kittens better

King Baldwin - Cats or dogs?

A/N: Mmmmh hard one, took me almost half a day to think about it😭😭 Loved the idea though, I think that this question and the reasoning behind its answer tell a lot about a person.

Couldn't find the name of the painting this time but the painter is by Henriette Ronner-Knip!!

Warning: puppies, but mostly kitties. Jokes aside I took the liberty of adding some historical inaccurate facts about cats' presence in medieval castles just to make the story more fit to my taste (not like historical accuracy is really the point of a fanfic but you get my point).

I'm still really torn but I'd say that it depends on which time of his life that question is asked

If it's during his childhood and first youth, he'd say dogs with no hesitation. They're great companions and so full of life, he'd love to bring a few with him during his hunting trips. He would see his own sprout of energy mirrored in his pawed companions! I see him as owning at least two of them, maybe even more (having almost a pack of dogs was pretty much the norm in noble families)

Dogs are also perceived better by Christian society, as there were quite a few theologists who believed that cats where somehow tied to unholiness or even the devil himself

But as time goes by and his condition worsens, he can't bring himself to stand for so long, let alone play with the dogs or take them out while he rides his horse

He feels bad, though, at the sound of their whines as his servants shoo them out of his bedroom, while he lays motionlessly on his huge bed (in which he usually let them lay while he rested, much to his servants' dismay)

And it is right as he's left laying there, alone and with an aching heart at the loss of his dear friends, that he for the first time notices the gentle meow of his physician's cat. He never really acknowledged his existence, for he always seemed to make it his mission to be as invisible to the people in the room as possible

The cat looked him with mil interest: of course, he knew him, but Baldwin couldn't say the same. He had been silently studying the young king, as his master tended to his everlasting wounds, or as he distracted himself form his duties with a game of chess. All while Baldwin didn't even know that the cat was in the room in the first place

Their exchanged stare didn't last long, because soon the cat jumped swiftly on the bed, waggling his tail like an enchanted snake as he made a few steps on top of the covers

He inspects the space, undisturbed by Baldwin who can't bring himself to make even the slightest movement because of how exhausted his sickness makes him

Finally, the cat seems to find a spot to his liking, right on the spot between Baldwin's side and arm, which is splayed on the side of the bed

The cat makes a few circles before snuggling close to his clothed side, resting his head on his own tail and quietly purring himself to sleep, soon followed by the king himself

That was their first official encounter, one that changed Baldwin's answer at the question "cats or dogs"

He also came to find that apparently there were far more cats in palace

In his late years, he found in those cats a silent and delicate company, it created a space in which he could let go of everything and just bask into the presence of those little balls of fur

And they are so agile and elegant in their movements, he enjoys watching them move around his room, jumping from a surface to the other like it's nothing; he feels like he can move and live through them

And he misses them oh so badly when they leave his chamber to go hunt for food or to simply explore the palace, but as they happily walk back in his room and curl up to rest all over his bed and desk, he almost feels like they're telling him all they've seen during the day simply through their eyes

And that is how Baldwin IV was born a dog person, only to die surrounding his death bed with cats

REQUESTS ARE OFFICIALLY CLOSED

I'm sorry everyone, but I've got 14 requests waiting already and with the little time I've got lately it'd be impossible to keep up with all of them.

I'll probably reopen them once I've finished the ones in my drafts, though!

I feel like Baldwin would be seriously flattered that girls all over adore him despite his decaying body. Honestlyyyy that would be the least of my concerns I just want to hug him😩

Anyway I feel like it would be somewhat comforting to him to feel so wanted

Oh yeah totally!! He deserves all the attention he's getting, most of all out of respect for what he's done.

I mean, imagine winning over one of the greatest warriors of middle ages at the age of 16, only to be remembered for the rest of the eternity simply as the "leper king", as if his appearance was what distinguishes him from other historical figures.

And omg it'd take him so long to process the fact that these girls (me included) not only like him for his personality but also for his looks!!!

I imagine him scrolling through a phone, smiling to himself as he reads all the stuff girls write and fantasise about him. (He might get a bit embarrassed by the nsfw content but that's just collateral damage)

How do you think Baldwin would react to all of the edits of him all over tiktok?

I could describe his reaction as "awkwardly amused".

He could've never expected in his short life to be remember and admired after so many centuries, let alone be the object of desire for hundreds of girls from around the world.

Does he get the point of an edit? No, but is he complaining that there have been almost 40k videos about him? Hell nah

hello could you do headcanons smut of baldwin and his chubby wife

King Baldwin x reader - Nsfw headcanons

A/N: Wow these is the first explicit stuff I write for Baldwin!! Thank you so much for this prompt, thinking of a chubby medieval woman makes me think of all the portraits of beautiful women with the most harmonious curves I've ever seen😩😩

As always painting name is Romeo and Juliet by Frank Bernard Dicksee for my art enthusiasts :))

Warning: SMUT, reader is AFAB and uses she/her pronouns!

Unlike modern times, a fuller body has always been sign of beauty and fertility through western history

Although during medieval times anything related to attractiveness and sensuality was deemed as "bad", that still meant that a chubby woman would've been judged not for being against the beauty standard, but to be actually too tempting for the public!

So it comes without saying that young king Baldwin thought he might pass out the first time he saw you, knowing you were his betrothed

You'd awakened something in him, this burning desire to have you, to know how your soft curves would feel in his hands, how your silky skin would brush against his own

I see him having a long series of consecutive days where he woke up drenched in sweat, body slightly trembling as he'd come out of yet another wet dream about you, lying beneath him as he had his sweet way with you

He felt himself getting more and more impatient for the wedding night day to come, to finally be able to call you his

He'd also be quite insecure at first, and scared too. What if the sight of his body repulsed you? What if you wouldn't want to go near him to avoid the risk of getting the disease as well?

He wouldn't blame you for it, it'd be the wiser decision for the both of you

But still, he prays and hopes and dreams that you'd return the attraction he felt from you from the very start. He longs for the feeling of your touch against his numb body

He's a bundle of nerves during the whole ceremony, but he's good at hiding it (well the veil covering his head is); he seems to all calm down only once you're both sitting next to each other at the banquet, and you tentatively lay your soft hand over his laying on the table, shy touches blessing his skin

That night your marriage is consumed in no time, he's basically as gentle as humanly possible while he holds you in his arms, as he's slowly penetrating you

There was no really developed knowledge of foreplay or female anatomy in the middle ages, but it just felt natural for Baldwin to keep his focus on your every reactions while the two of you are making love

He doesn't know what he's doing, and neither do you considering that at that time you probably haven't even seen a naked man other than Baldwin himself, but that doesn't stop the two of you from exploring each other, taking your time to get to know what you like, what makes your eyes roll back and your back arch

I'm not sure if he'd be down for oral, I kind of see him as being a bit self conscious of the level of decay his mouth and face has reached, and I'm not too sure his cum would actually taste good with leprosy and all

Nevertheless, his fingers and cock are more than enough to bring you more pleasure than you could ever imagine

Don't expect any public stuff, Baldwin is still an extremely religious man whose values are not to be messed with: these things are meant for the privacy of your quarters alone, there's no need for him to bring this sacred thing you two have out where all eyes could possibly see

He'd probably be more on the vanilla side, being mostly against anything related to giving pain (he'd be indifferent to receiving it since his body is mainly numb, but he wouldn't enjoy it either)

Although he would probably enjoy being the more dominant one in the bedroom, the power dynamic would still remain on a pretty balanced level: you're still his beloved wife, his only equal in his eyes. That's why I could confidently say that Baldwin is the perfect example of soft dom

His favorite position would probably be missionary, just so that he could be able to see your pretty face while he pounds into you

Also because he could get to hold your plush thighs and see the delightful rolls that form on your belly

Your body screams femininity and fertility to him, an alluring combination that gets him going for as much time as you two have

His numbness also grants him a reduced sensibility, so he can afford to go more rounds at a time without having too many problems from it

But as the years pass, his mobility becomes more restricted by his declining health, and along with his agility and stamina in battle his sickness gets the best of him even in the bedroom

And through it all, his burning desire for you was what got him going, what made him spare just a little more energies to later spend with you

The two of you would have to adapt, though, probably changing positions and frequency at which you guys have sex

You might start trying to be the one on top, and he'd guide your every movement while also trying not to lose his mind over just how perfect you look riding him, your every curve bouncing as you move up and down over his cock

He dreams of giving you a baby in those moments, filling you up to the brim, seeing your body get even fuller with your conjoint love. It really saddens him to think that it might never happen

But hope is the last one to die, and he gets his hopes up every time that he comes into your welcoming body, emptying his seed into you, hoping that one day this union will give life to a creature as beautiful as its mother

How do you think Baldwin would react if reader got into a heated argument with someone to the point it was getting really bad?

King Baldwin x reader - Defending your honor

A/N: eheheh I see you guys really yearn to see Baldwin losing his temper, huh?

I can't lie I've been thinking of a similar scenario too lately, I guess you can't help it when he's so perfect in every way, shape or form🙈

Painting is "Orestes pursued by the Furies" by Adolphe William Bouguereau btw :))

Warning: mention of disrespect towards reader but nothing is actually specified!

He's intervening right away

He's got the wits to shut anyone's mouth, and he isn't afraid to embarrass whoever it is that is disrespecting his perfect wife

Whether it's a snide remark, a direct insult or an order for them to shut their mouths if they don't want any consequences for their outrageous behavior

If it got really really bad, like you said, I can actually see him lose his temper

Maybe the person arguing with you took it too far by directly insulting or belittling you, and that would cross the line for him

He'd jump up from his seat, pushing his chair down to the floor in the act, while looking dead in the eye unfortunate fool who dared to disrespect her highness the queen of Jerusalem

"If you dare to speak to your queen in such a tone again, your tongue will be your next meal!"

Everyone is shocked. You are shocked, his knights are shocked, your own rival is shocked (and mostly terrified)

Baldwin is a bit surprised with his own rush of wrath, too, but he doesn't give any hint of his surprise

While his servants waste no time putting his chair back in place, he keeps standing menacingly, eyeing the culprit of such blasphemy against his wife

After a few apologies from the person, Baldwin would hiss through gritted teeth: "It is the queen you have to apologize to, you miserable"

And that tone somehow manages to be even more threatening than his previous yelling, maybe because everyone knew that in that moment he was in his right state of mind, and that he was able to make whatever decision he wanted to punish the man before him, without ever regretting it

He wouldn't calm down until you give him a sign that everything's alright, then he'd drop the subject but it would still cling to him for the rest of the day

He loves you more than words can express, and he will never, ever be able to just stand silently there and observe someone disrespect you like that

How would Baldwin act if reader was on her period cause I know in the medieval period they handled menstrual cycles differently?

King Baldwin x reader - period

A/N: Aww that is so sweet! Yes you're right, it was handled quite differently and if you look it up you'd be impressed of how badass women are to have been handling so much stuff for so long with no recognition until recent times!!

Little info as always, painting is "The Deceitfulness of Riches" by Eleanor Fortescue Brickdale.

Warning: mentions of blood and period-related pain, plus some historical negligence on women's health and that's it

Okay so, in the Middle Ages period was something every woman knew of, but no one ever really said anything about

Up until very late in the time period, women were considered dirty, impure creatures, guilty of committing the original sin and to relentlessly tempt men with their mere existence

Period had become during these centuries a symbol of women's impurity and less than human nature, so they were taught from a very early age to hide it as best as they could

But do I have to tell you that Baldwin could not believe less to it?

Similar things had been said to him and his leprosy, how it was a curse that had been sent upon him by God himself for his own vanity and greed, that he was an impure man just because of something he couldn't actually control

He wouldn't see the negative conceptions of period, he'd only see your pain and discomfort, and that would be enough to tear his soul in half

He'd come up to you, gently wrapping an arm around your lower waist, unknowingly bringing you a little comfort from his mere body heat, and he'd gently whisper in your ear

"My angel, I know you're fatigued right now. Go back to our chambers and tell me what you need, I'll provide for it all in a second"

You'd try to reject the offer and change subject out of modesty and embarrassment. There's no need for his help, really, you're used to this like any other woman, the last thing he needs to worry about is your own discomfort

He, of course, wouldn't listen and just escort you to your silky bed where he'd almost force you to lay onto

He would ask you if you're too cold, too hot, if you're hungry, what you'd like to eat then, if you're thirsty, if you need company and loving touches or if you'd rather be left alone

Anything you ask for, you'll get in no time

It would probably end up with him lying next to you, gently putting a warm hand on your pelvis while he held a book on the other one, reading out loud so that you could relax and distract from your pain and discomfort

And once you fall asleep and his servants would loudly announce that dinner is ready and waiting, he'd quickly put a finger to his lips, urging them to be quiet as the love of his life is resting

This would go on for as long as you need, whether it's as long as your period lasts or just the first days. Whatever, really

Because, yes, period was considered a punishment for the sins and impurity of all women, but with Baldwin that definition could never resonate, for you're the purest, most perfect creature living in his life, and he sees this monthly occurrence as a divine test to your soul and spirit, a test he'd gladly help you through anytime

What do you think Baldwins fashion sense would be In modern times ?

Ohhh this is an interesting one!

Okay so, it took me a bit to think about it but I'm pretty confident on some points.

First of all, modesty. Not to cover up his body from leprosy, we have the medicine to cure that now so no prob, but his religious nature would probably physically restrain him from even getting close to "immodest" clothing, and by that I mean going around shirtless or lowering his pants to the point where you can see his mf underwear.

I see him as someone who likes to dress simple, not too many meaningless details and accessories, he'd probably fit best in the Dark Academia/old money style.

I'm debating on whether he'd wear a little silver cross necklace, part of me thinks that he actually wouldn't, he might rather keep his religiousness for himself rather than flaunting it around. Hence why he isn't really a fan of those pants with huge crosses, too over the top for him, it loses meaning.

I'm also leaving a few pics of what I think would best represent his style.

Baldwin in his summer era. Although I think he'd also wear shorts if it got too hot, but I haven't found a fit that quite represented my idea

This pic has me weak on my knees because I imagine Baldwin EXACTLY like this. Like, the hair, the strong handsome features,...

AAAAGHHH I'm on my knees for this man.

A look more winter-y. If I had to use a word to describe his style I'd probably simply say "class", because that's exactly what he's all about!

Following the Christian emo anon, there's also Christian metal. I don't know many bands personally but Wytch Hazel comes to mind. They're more heavy metal than any other metal subgenre so they sound closer to hard rock

You guys have no idea how much I'm loving you, making me discover all these amazing musicians😭😭

You know what, I actually see him enjoying Wytch Hazel to an extent.

They've got good lyrics, good musicality and not too many artificial sounds (comparing to trap or techno I mean).

I mean, the fact that music isn't anywhere near to how it sounded 800 years ago is something that a clever mind like Baldwin's wouldn't take too long to understand, and he's open to evolve and open his horizons with it too. But that doesn't mean that he still doesn't enjoy listening to music he can actually relate to.

I don't know how many other bands from this genre are out there but this specific one would be Baldwin-approved!

Also this modern music talk made me think about my answers a bit, and I decided that I must add that more "spicy" or "explicit" songs wouldn't shock him TOO MUCH, since Medieval songs, especially French ones from Provence (where Baldwin's family is from) had a specific romantic genre that was basically nobles talking about their crazy hookups or fantasies about the women they love.

That being said, I was considering softer explicit songs, my boy would probably still get a heart attack if he ever listened to WAP or any song from Ice Spice or Cupcakke.

Lastly, he'd absolutely hate Lil Nas X for his mocking of christianity and all, he wouldn't handle the disrespect I think.

How would Baldwin react if reader got sick?

King Baldwin x reader - sickness

A/N: I'm loving all this king Baldwin enthusiasm, I've been waiting for this moment for ages omfg!!! (little 10 year old me is screaming now that I have the chance to write for my historical crush).

Btw I don't know if I should be making all the fancy set up for all headcanons of him (like, author's note, warning and painting), the last posts didn't have it because it didn't seem fit to me but you let me know

Psssst painting is "Paolo and Francesca" by Frank Dicksee

Warning: none, sickness maybe?

Oh boy

You wouldn't be able to leave your bed.

Sickness was a big deal back then, you could easily die form a cold, so ain't no way that he's taking any more risks.

To be honest the climate was less brutal in Jerusalem than Europe, which was even colder than modern times (and living in Switzerland I can assure you that it gets REALLY cold).

He would insist on keeping you in his quarters, always near his sight, and when he had to leave to attend to his royal duties you'd be surrounded by his best physicians to take care of you.

But he would like it best when he's the one tending to you, it's one of the most intimate moments he gets with his beloved

He'd use a wet cloth to clean your face of the sweat, gently caress your body while he orders to get some ice from his servants to cool your body down

Incense would fill the room to ease your mind and make the ambience more comfortable for you to rest

He'd love to bathe you, hold your weakened body as he frees you of that sickly sticky feeling that has been clinging to your body for the past days

It would take you some convincing to let him sleep with you in the same bed to be honest, as he would've been too scared to be that close to you while you're so weakened already

Because, what if in this state your body is so weak and ill already that it makes it easier for you to contract leprosy as well? He wouldn't survive the guilt of knowing that he'd be the cause of your demise

He would've only relented after seeing your pleading eyes, begging to have him close to you at night, to not be left alone, to not have to suffer his absence too

But all his worries would be washed away once he got to feel your body close to his once again, see your droopy eyes looking at him and your weak smile of gratitude for his closeness

Then, once you would've fallen asleep, he would hold you a close as possible, kissing your boiling hot forehead while he prayed God to let you live, to let you stay with him just a little longer

And he was sure his prayers had been listened once he wakes up to the sight of you, smiling at him with renewed strength, your body once again fresh to the touch

You were healed, and he couldn't have been more happy even if he'd woken up healed by leprosy himself

i know you said rock would be on thin ice for king baldwin but consider: do you think he'd like christian emo (flyleaf, relient k)? maybe im biased bc im a huge flyleaf fan but idk i think he'd appreciate it

Omg you made me discover a world! You're right he'd probably enjoy listening to it.

As I mentioned on the original post, it's the content of the lyrics that mostly interests him, and also the factor that decides whether he likes a song or not.

Peaceful, loving themes always win for him, and he'd probably be open to the new kind of melody also because it's not as artificial as other subgenres of rock/metal/goth/...

So yeah anon you two could listen to flyleaf together and it'd be enjoyable for you both!! (can I join too you literally made me fall in love with their music)

How do you think Baldwin would act if he saw the immodest clothing that we consider normal today? Like if he meet reader from the future our times and saw what she was wearing?? I feel like it would be super interesting to see

Mmmmh that's a great question.

I think that on first impact he'd be quite baffled, like that would be considered underwear in Medieval times so you can see why he'd react like that.

Being the gentleman and virtuous man he is, he would opt to avoid the sight himself to not "fall into temptation", but I also see him as gently suggesting you wear something more... modest.

Now, depending on the scenario it could go two ways: either you from the future traveled back to 12th century Jerusalem or he traveled in the future to wherever you live.

In the first case, it'd be quite hard to convince him that what you're wearing is deemed as normal in your times. Well, it would probably be hard to convince him that you're from the future in the first place.

The second scenario would be... quite more shocking for Baldwin, but it would lead to some clarifiacations much much sooner. I mean, you could take him outside for a walk and he'd soon realize that EVERYONE dresses like this now (or at least most people).

And that walk around your town would be so funny to see because Baldwin would be refusing to look anywhere but the ground for a good half hour before you convince him that it's not sinful to just see what other people are wearing!

But I must say, in both scenarios he'd come to terms with the fact that time changes things, and clothes are probably the quickest thing to change since the beginning of time. He wouldn't judge you for what you wear, he'd only get an idea for you based on your personality and your mind. After all, his own condition has taken almost all prejudice he could have based on appearances.

What kind of music would Baldwin listen to in modern times?

To be honest I think he'd try listening to everything at least once, just to be able to test everything.

Do I even need to say that he would absolutely HATE rap, techno and metal? Especially for the content of the lyrics.

Rock is on thin ice, he might tolerate it.

I see him as becoming obsessed with older singers and artists like Frank Sinatra or Edith Piaf, mostly because they're very close to what medieval songs were about most of the time (love songs about eternal promises and broken hearts lmao).

BUT, Classical and Gregorian music are probably his favorites, I see him as an enjoyer of most requiems honestly.

Country music is... kind of an enigma to him? Like, he doesn't really like it but doesn't hate it either. Probably wouldn't mind listening to a few songs but definitely wouldn’t suggest it either.

Lastly, seeing how tolerant he was to other religions and cultures, I believe that he would be really interested in listening to any folk songs. He's probably be curious to hear how Israeli's music has evolved after so many centuries, along with the other countries he's been in contact with.

Overall a pretty open minded listener, plus he'll put aside any of his personal preferences to listen to what his darling likes most, just to have something to share with them.

Hi!! i love your writing sm, i was just wondering if I could be added to your tag list anytime you post King Baldwin IV fanfics? if not, that's okay!

Omg thank you so much😭😭 Absolutely yes!! I'll tag you right away on the last fic (that I literally just finished writing lmaoo).

Also, if you like how I write his character then I'm sure you'll love the series I'm gonna start writing very very soon :3

Hi! I'm not sure if you are currently taking requests, so feel free to ignore mine if you aren't! If you are taking them, however, would you please write something for King Baldwin IV overhearing reader sing and falling further in love with her because of her soft and sweet voice? Upon realizing that he's there, she becomes extremely flustered and apologizes for disrupting his peace and quiet. Thank you!

King Baldwin IV x reader - Sweetest of melodies

A/N: omg it’s been so long since I’ve received a request! I can’t lie, Baldwin is my supreme comfort character, I think I’ll never stop writing fro him because it gives me sooo much joy😩😩😩 I personally like to think of this piece as taking place a few months after Baldwin’s and reader’s wedding, so it could be considered a sequel for my first fic ever. Also, the song mentioned in this piece is a real song from the 12th century called "Can vei la lauzeta" (in English,"When I see the lark") by Bernart de Ventadorn, and the painting is "Lovers in a garden" by Charles Edward Perugini!!

Oh btw!! I’m working on a long ass series about him, based off of a prompt by @phantomsghoulette  which I absolutely LOVED. Sooo all the KoH fans stay tuned for future updates🤭

Warning: nothing really, just pure fluff. Maybe you could say that religious innuendos could be something triggering for some people but I don’t know. There might be ONE, SLIGHTLY spicy mention but only if you squint really really hard. Also, keep in mind that the historical accuracy in my fics is rather relative, I try to add some details here and there but I don’t have the knowledge (nor the skills) to write a piece 100% accurate to the real history. Also, reader’s gender is female and uses she/her pronouns!!

Word count: 2918

Someone would say Baldwin's patience could already be put to test by only his illness, which she ruthlessly does not grant him a moment's respite, the eternal enemy of his body and his spirit. But no, to this perpetual torment of his had to be added the perilous duties of a king. And it was certainly not governing his people and lands that sucked what little energy he had left; this duty of his, given by his father and willed by divine design, he had long since embraced.

It was the nobles, the leeches who had drained him of his lifeblood lately. It was their endless demands, the insidious words that hissed behind his back, the languid bows and sleazy gifts designed only to gain some favor from him. Looking around him, he seemed to see only vices and sinners, power-hungry beasts just waiting for his moment of weakness so they could feed on what Baldwin had under his power.

In fact, not without reason in the past the young monarch had attempted to abdicate the throne and leave it in the hands of one of his sisters, rid himself of this burden and devote the rest of his short life taking care of his declining health and to nurture his mind away from so much corruption. At times he dreamed of retiring to France, experiencing for the first time that cold climate and verdant landscape of which his preceptors and advisors told him so much.

In fact, not without reason in the past the young monarch had attempted to abdicate the throne and leave it in the hands of one of his sisters, rid himself of this burden and devote the rest of his short life taking care of his declining health and to nurture his mind away from so much corruption. At times he dreamed of retiring to France, to experience for the first time that cold climate and verdant landscape of which his preceptors and advisors told him so much.

And he dreamed of taking you with him, imagined how sweet his life would be if his only concerns were taking care of his health and you, faithful wife, sole blessing in his life battered by such burdens. How he would wish that his days would revolve around you, that his first thought in the morning would be riding by your side through the flourishing meadows, and his last thought in the evening would be caressing your face as you lie slumbering in his arms.

It would have been a blissful fate his, if only Sybilla's husband had not died at the very moment when he would have needed him most. If only his mother had not convinced him that Guido de Lusignan was a good fit for his sister and had continued to seek a new consort for her, perhaps that fate would not have been snatched from him so early. Too late to repent now, for Baldwin would have preferred to die agonizingly on his throne rather than leave power in the hands of that bumptious and arrogant lord, who was noble only in title.

And so he found himself in this sort of hellish limbo, forced into a position that should never be required of a man in his condition, but prevented by his morality from abandoning his reign, impelled by faith in God's greater plan, that his suffering should not be in vain.

And his faith always seemed to strengthen when he had a way to escape the stifling air that characterized the throne room, always packed with knights and crusaders and nobles, when he had a way to retreat to the palace gardens, one of the few verdant places in all of Jerusalem.

With slow, swaying steps, Baldwin strolled slowly among the local palm trees and flower beds from the faraway lands, those where men speak Italian and the more distant ones, those from which his fathers came. Exotic fruits mingled with those more congenial to the French, who out of nostalgia for their lands and fields did what they could to bring the seeds of these plants with them to overseas.

His mind seemed to go out, shifting his attention from the constant buzz of court demands and duties to the chirping of birds perched on the roof, to the eviction of the soft branches that shielded him from the scorching sun. He enjoyed the refreshing air that reigned in that small oasis of greens, which was able to infiltrate the fabric of his white robes, crossing the bandages that covered much of his body and finally reaching his skin, numbed by leprosy. 

To tell the truth, of that refreshing sensation little reached his damaged nerves, if not for those few points that had been spared by the merciless disease, from which departed that unusual shiver that caused him a delicate smile of relief, enjoying the refreshing breeze. Then he closed his eyes and breathed in, discovering with satisfied surprise that that light gust was also a harbinger of an intoxicating perfume, a mixture of exotic and familiar.

How funny to think of the concept of "exotic", for an Angevin born and raised in the unknown lands of the east. For him it was exotic French fruit, exotic were the green plains and heavy clothing that brought his allies from the northwest, and equally alien to the snowy mountains and forest beasts that he saw drawn in detail in his childhood books. It was these changes of perspective that stimulated his mind in a myriad of thoughts and reflections, but in a pleasurable way for him, not as exhausting as his daily duties.

His reflections on exotic and local made his mind travel, wandering until he came to a subject very close to him: Muslims and Jews, reflecting well on the landscape in front of him, recognized that he could share with them the same concepts of what is foreign and what they can claim the original belonging. And he could not but reflect on how it must have been for the first inhabitants of Jerusalem to observe the Franks who came as conquerors, and filled their gardens with such foreign plants as those pale warriors who had taken possession of their dwelling... But after all, the French soldiers who were emissaries of God’s will needed something familiar to stabilize them as they fought to reclaim the Promised Land, ut Deus voluit.

But all his brooding over these matters of conquest and submission ended up in the background in his mind, when a colorful scarlet sphere caught his attention. An exquisitely red apple seemed to tempt him from a branch just above his head, beckoning him to be picked and savored by the king, that he might lose himself in the juicy sweetness of that fruit with origins so far removed from the Holy Land. But the king's modesty prevented him from yielding to that temptation, wanting to avoid exposing the advanced state of deterioration in which his mouth was.

And in fact if that temptation had been alive it would have pale in front of something much more captivating, a sound that echoed in the most melodious distance of the song of any nightingale. Baldwin was surprised to think that he had not realized before the melody that inibriated the atmosphere around him, so taken by the tribulations of his mind that he almost missed such an intoxicating song. He did not know what he felt once he arrived in Heaven, if he had ever arrived in spite of the unjust fate in Hell that the evil Saracens wished him. He didn’t know it, but if one ever had to imagine what Heaven sounded like, that song would come to mind.

When I see the lark beating 

Its wings in joy against the rays of the sun 

That it forgets itself and lets itself fall 

Because of the sweetness that comes to its heart

She sang in Occitan, the beautiful one in the distance. The voice of his people, of his lineage, that few in the palace can pronounce after so many years of distance from their homeland in Provence. Paying more attention to the echoing song, he would not even have had to approach it to give a face to that melodic voice: he knew how to recognize his wife’s voice.

Yet it was a new context in which he saw you, new facets of you that he had not yet had a chance to observe. Your voice, sweet as honey, venerable like all your other traits, he had never heard it except in speech, when you were proclaiming orders before your subjects with the authority fit for a queen, or when you laughed at the poems and performances of the court singers, or when you whispered in Baldwin’s ears sweet words, while you lay with bodies merged between the soft silk sheets. Always spoken, but never sung.

Alas! Such great envy then overwhelms me 

Of all those whom I see rejoicing,

But though he didn’t need to approach you to recognize you, the desire to see your face exceeded any of his other needs. As if mesmerized by the sound of a siren, Baldwin was advancing towards you, with steps so slow that it seemed a hunter about to catch a deer in the woods. He wanted nothing more than to hear you sing again, that you continue to bless him with that angelic melody. What worse sin would there be than to interrupt your song, more sacred than a prayer?

His stomach filled with butterflies and turned upside down like the beasts' jugglers, his breath seemed to stop in his throat, depriving him of the breath he no longer needed, as long as he could hear you sing a moment more. And her cheeks warmed, when finally she saw you among the white lilies, more beautiful than divine salvation.

I wonder that my heart, at that moment, 

Does not melt from desire.

Baldwin wondered if you sang with him in mind, if those words of love reflected your own emotional turmoil. 

Oh, if only it were so, and your singing equalled his own words inscribed in the sonnets and poems he composed in your honor, which he himself commissioned from your favorite singers to perform at banquets, only to steal an embarrassed smile and to see the blush of your cheeks, along with the glint in your eyes.

Whether it was or not, the outcome remained the same since he was at that moment in your proximity, in the same state mixed with adoration, love and wonder at the bold gesture. But if only he had confirmation from your words...

Alas! How much I thought I knew 

About love, and how little I know, 

Because I cannot keep myself from loving 

The one from whom I will gain nothing.

"My angel, your voice sounds like heaven but your words are false." Baldwin practically saw you blow up from your session, completely taken aback by his sudden appearance, unaware that your husband has been acting as a secret public all this time. Your initial surprise quickly turns into a laugh to mask your embarrassment for being caught in a moment like this, when you thought you were alone to be able to run the streets of music with your voice.

"I beg your pardon, I thought I was alone in the gardens," your eyes met his own only for a moment, before you turned your face to try and hide the blush of your face, "it was just a silly song I heard singing to the Provençal knights. I hope I did not disrupt your walk, my love..”

He laughed softly, trying to hide his amusement from having caught you off guard. He approached you more quickly than when he did just a few moments before, but with the same phlegm that managed to inspire a feeling of safeness in you. Sitting by your side on the bare rock, he raised his bandaged hand to gently cup your face and make you turn your eyes towards him. It was only then, when you had no choice but to look at Baldwin in the face that you noticed how his eyes, the only part of his face exposed to the outside world, formed two half-moons, and you came to find that it was because of how widely he was smiling, as you lowered the veil from his face. 

He was making fun of you, you realized. With that swagger in his manner, you understood that his amusement came from your embarrassment at that silly misunderstanding. Laughing softly, he gently shook his head before bringing both hands to your face, holding it as if it were the most sacred of relics. "As much as I would love to hear you sing of your affection for me, just to hear your voice echoing in the air is the sweetest of gifts. How could you deprive me of this blessing thus far, my dear?"

You could do nothing but giggle at his sweet words, bringing your hands to his wrists to feel him closer to you. "You flatter me, my king. My voice boasts nothing more than those sweet melodies that the singers in the palace sing. Mine is only a dabble."

His gaze softened, his playful spirit addicted to your presence. He took the floor again, in a tone as soft as cotton, "At least this once, my queen, allow me to disagree with your words. My life may be short and my reality small, but never have I heard such an angelic voice, singing such sweet melodies. And God may not yet have granted me the ability to predict the future, but in my heart I know well that never will any singer be able to hold a candle to your beautiful voice, never will any song be able to express the same feeling of ecstasy.

"You, my angel, have managed to make a simple ballad an absolute work of art through your voice. I think I should take you with me into battle next time, for with your mere voice you could addict Saladin and his entire army.

"And seeing you here, angelic and perfect like the lilies that surround you, singing so softly that it would make any bird jealous, that I realize that whatever toil, whatever challenges God has stored up for me, and all those that still await me in my life, are worth it, if at the end of each of them there is you, voice of an angel, to hold a place for me in your arms of heaven." 

You were sure you were on the verge of crying a flood of tears, the result of pure emotion at his sweet words. It was not new to you that Baldwin worshipped you as much as the God to whom his kingdom was consecrated, from the first moment he got to hear your voice and admire your face, and you knew at once that he had become yours, body and soul. But it was new to you to see him like that, completely entranced by your simple being-it was something new. A wonderful newness that made you feel like the most desired of women on this earth.

Taken by a rush of boldness, you practically jumped into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck; you ended up on top of him, with his hands around your hips. You both laughed, like two little boys frolicking in the gardens. And you left a kiss on his left cheek, then on the bridge of his nose. A kiss again on his forehead, and then down on the side of his lips. When you were about to give him another kiss, just where he most yearned for your lips, against his, you stopped a few inches away, with a wide smile, before speaking again, "If so little is enough to make your happiness, then I will sing to you every day, whenever you ask. Let me be your nightingale, your morning song and your lullaby all at once!"

"I couldn't wish for anything else, my dear. Now, however, I beg you, sing one more melody for me, before my duties drag me back to the palace, and I shall consider myself a blessed man."

"With great pleasure, my love." Your voice was now little more than a whisper. With a languid movement, Baldwin moved his body to rest his head on your lap, and you eagerly greeted him. After slightly moving the hood that veiled his head, so that you could play with his golden locks, you began to sing a new melody, one that this time spoke of reciprocated love, of the joy of being able to hold your loved one in your arms. But the words you sang barely reached Baldwin before his sky-colored eyes closed softly, his mind giving him at least a moment's despite from his perilous life. You continued to sing, caressing his face, which from day to day appeared more and more mutilated by his disease, singing the sweetest of melodies so as to prolong this idyll in which you and your husband found yourselves in. 

For with you Baldwin had a way of putting the crown aside, and being nothing more than a foolish young man in love, whose only duty was to love you, to love you with all the love that an angel like you deserved.

@sweetworkoffiction hope you like it <3

Hi everyone

Thank you so much for all the support lately, it really means a lot!

Sadly I've been quite busy lately because of school, work and family matters, so I kind of stopped writing in the past days.

I was actually working on a bunch of unrequested fics, but since I've recieved a few requests I'll focus on those first, and I'm pretty positive that I'll be able to publish them by the end of the working week but I won't make promises.

I won't make any spoilers about neither of these fics, but I'll just say, they're both about two characters whose fics I've written have been really like by the readers...

cough cough Baldwin and Lester cough cough

Sooo that is all for now, I'm starting to work on both fics, I really hope to be able to post them asap.

Bye everyoneeee hope you have a wonderful day and week💕💕💕

King Baldwin IV x reader - I’ll be waiting for you

A/N: Well, how could I not make another fic for King Baldwin when the other one I made is my most liked post yet, so I decided to write this little pieceee. Sooo I guess I should warn y'all that this one will be a little less historically accurate (not that the first one was that great of a historical piece but you get the idea). Oh and as usual, this fic came into my mind the moment I saw the painting just below (which is "the Reconciliation of the Montagues and Capulets Over the Dead Bodies of Romeo andJuliet" by sir Frederic Leighton)Now enough chatting, more King Baldwin brainrot. 

Summary: in a desperate attempt to protect his kingdom after having punished Reynald de Chatillon, the king is exhausted and the long ride has increasingly worsened his already wary condition. Once he’s escorted back to the palace, his loving wife wastes no time to reunite with her beloved husband.

Warnings: kinda angsty (no happy ending tbh), vague descriptions of Baldwin’s illness related wounds. Also, reader specifically described as female.

Word count: 3209

You sat on your throne, high and proud like the royalty you were. But under the facade of your noble confidence, you felt small. Smaller than ever, actually, as the yelling of all the men in front of you filled the air and rose up to the open sky. With a simple, reckless act, Reynald de Chatillon and Guy de Lusignan had just screwed years of efforts that King Baldwin had spent trying to maintain that delicate peace that required so many lives and time to build. All washed away from the raging river that were Reynald and Guy. 

While the two men tried to defend their senseless attack, backed by a substantial group of men, another opposing group shouted at them, berating them for the offense they had given not only to Saladin but also to Jerusalem itself.

You sigh, fighting the urge to cover your ears, and curl into your own body; you opt to just turn your head and look at your beloved husband. He looked to be in a similar state as you were: although his face was now fully covered -a means of hiding the decaying state of his leprosy-ridden body- his head was bent with weary alertness, like a hawk watching its prey from a distance. You watched his body, languidly seated on his much larger throne, the only sitting position that brought him no discomfort, though it looked almost more like he was about to lie down. 

It broke your heart to see how that disease had ravaged Baldwin's body, in recent years more and more. To see him there, on the same throne on which he once sat tall and proud, while now he barely had the strength to stay upright. And you knew he was thinking the very same thing.

You were about to open your mouth, whisper something to him, anything, in order to shake him out of his thoughts and that chaotic situation, but you were interrupted in your actions by an official, who rushed to the king's side, handing him a scroll. His bandaged hands clumsily opened the scroll, and you found salvation from the noise of the room by concentrating on watching Baldwin read carefully. You watched his eyes, blue as the sky and like the waves of the sea that brought you to the Holy Land, now covered with a pale glassy glaze. 

You frowned when you heard Baldwin freeze in place, even his sitting became more erect, as if a cube of ice had slid down his back. With his gaze still fixed on the words written in that letter, he merely raised his hand slightly, a clear sign of his will.

"SILENCE!" his guard's shout resounded through the hall, overpowering the furious shouts of the men who had been barking at each other for hours now. They all turned to look at the king; their faces, a few moments ago darkened and wrinkled with anger, were now smooth and relaxed, their eyebrows raised in astonishment at their king's order. Funny, you thought, how these men because of your husband's condition sometimes simply forget how much power he possessed over them. Before it was as if he wasn't even in the room, and they were all playing at being great leaders, now there they were, staring at him, motionless as statues, submissive as ants. You curled your nose discreetly, your face a mixture of disgust and contempt. Pathetic, you thought.

After what seemed like an eternity, Baldwin finally looked up at the crowd in front of him, finally revealing what it was that had shocked him so much. "Saladin has crossed the Jordan with 200000 men," silence fell, and you felt your body going numb. Your ears seemed muffled, you could barely perceive what was happening around you. At that moment you felt so much fear for your kingdom, and concern for Baldwin and what this impending attack would cost him.

And anger, against those two fools who out of sheer vanity had endangered the lives of all the inhabitants of Jerusalem. They had put Jerusalem itself at risk; they had put Baldwin at risk.

I was brought to attention by Baldwin, who was struggling to pull himself up from his throne, walking toward his most trusted man. "We must meet him before he reaches Kerak. I will lead the army," your husband's voice was hushed and soft, so that only the man in front of him could hear. But it did not escape your ears, the implication those words had: Baldwin wants to stop Saladin, and he wants to do it himself. But this could cost him his life. 

You couldn't stop yourself; you jumped up from your seat, eyes wide in an expression somewhere between fear and surprise. Baldwin turned to look at you, the woman who always took his breath away at the mere sight of how beautiful she was. You did not fail to have that effect on him again this time, but not because of your beauty: in your eyes he saw your terror, that this was the last time you would see him alive. They hypnotized him, and begged him in a silent prayer not to leave, to give up this plan, have an ambassador sent, anyone else. Hell, let him send Guy himself to intercept the Saracen, let him be beheaded and his murder settle the account that he himself opened. But the storm of emotion in your eyes contrasted with the gentle stream of emotion flowing from your eyes

But the storm of emotions in your eyes contrasted with the gentle stream of emotions flowing from Baldwin's eyes, barely visible because of the cover concealing his tortured face. He too, through them, was silently pleading with you: but he was asking you to trust, to let go and follow his plan, to try to forget for at least a moment all the warnings the Physicians had given him over the years.

Eventually, you relented, turning your gaze away and opting to stare at a random spot in the corner of the room. Baldwin gave a silent sigh and closed his eyes for a moment, a sign of gratitude, although you could not see it. He turned to the men of his court, and with the little strength his body afforded him, he spoke in a loud, determined voice: "Assemble the army and protect the city."

All this reminded you of the last time Baldwin fought Saladin: he had barely completed his seventeenth year, and young and still full of life, he was ready to ride against the invincible Saracen king. But on that day God had been more merciful. He had granted you, if nothing else, one last night to spend with your husband, had given you the gift of a minimum of time to ensure that you bid Baldwin a proper farewell before he met what could well have been his end. Instead this time, you barely had time to briefly remove the thick veil from his face to give him a fleeting kiss and exchange a handful of words. You fought back the tears as you looked at him, opting instead to bring your hand to his cheek, the flesh of his lip having receded and decayed to such an extent that it had receded down to his cheek, eventually turning into a long scar that protruded down to his cheekbone.

"Let me go with you, I will wait for you at the castle of Reynald de Chatillon-" "No. It is too dangerous. If things go wrong with the negotiations, I don't want you or my sisters anywhere near that man." It was not often that Baldwin interrupted you while you were speaking. He respected you too much to not allow you to finish your sentences, so the fact that he did just now spoke of how important this was to him. 

"Then promise me you’ll come back to me. Safe and sound." He snorted softly, giving a hint of smile before copping his face with his hardened hands, "You know I can’t promise it." You know that, but that blatant honesty of his, which you always loved so much, was not what you wanted at the time. No, you wanted reassurance, no matter how truthful, no matter how worthless his promises may be at the end of the day, You need that fleeting distraction that mitigates the fear that’s been eating you from the inside since Baldwin put on his armor. May you risked never seeing him again.

"Please just say it." Your voice came out much softer than you meant, almost less than a whisper, perhaps because of the knot in your throat, which threatened to break free carrying a river of tears. For a moment he remained silent, turning suddenly his face towards the voice of a nobleman who called him from the entrance of his room, but did not even dignify him with an answer. After all, his attention was completely turned to his world. To you. Before I answered you, I drew your head to his with my hands, so that I could place his forehead against yours. Finally, he spoke softly, in that loving tone that he reserved only for you: "Then I promise you that I will return to you in no more than three days, and when I return I will be victorious, and I will be riding."

After that, that moment between the two of you, which so much looked like a heartbreaking farewell, lasted just before Baldwin had to go to his horse to guide his men to the enemy.

And it wasn’t long before the harsh reality became clear to you: he had lied to you. Not maliciously, of course, you were the one who begged him to say those words after all. But the fact is that three days became four, that news of the army of Jerusalem had not come any more, that the last thing you heard of your husband was that only the ride had already tried his weakened body.

Another day passed, then another, and at the dawn of the fourth day since his absence you felt your heart sink. Had something happened to him? Had the negotiations failed? What if his illness had suddenly got the better of him? Or worse, Saladin and his men had shot him, stabbed him, or yet again captured and publicly executed,…

Your mind began to spiral into an ocean of possible reasons behind this delay, and you swore that your breathing had finally stopped once and for all when a messenger on horseback arrived at the palace, frantically dismounting from his steed to rush into the throne room and bring you the message: "The negotiations were successful, but the king is in critical condition! He is returning to Jerusalem on a canopy," you dismissed the man with a slight wave of your hand, so weak that you almost looked numbed; Baldwin's advisors began to chatter, but the background murmur of their murmurs did not seem to reach your ears. No, your attention was elsewhere; it was entirely on your husband.

You took your leave of the court, hurrying to your rooms. There, like a hawk waiting impatiently for prey to feed on, you perched on the balcony overlooking the city below you, on the walls from which not many days ago Baldwin had emerged leading the army.

It was there that you began to think again, this time with a clearer mind as you knew that at least Baldwin was alive and on his way home. On his way to you. Still, this whole situation reminded you of when you were only sixteen years old, and you stood on that balcony as you do now, waiting to see Baldwin return on his horse. And on that day, when he was visible to the naked eye, and your eyes met, you saw all the life and strength of one who had just defeated the greatest enemy of his time. At that moment, he seemed almost immortal to you: he looked like a god riding proudly, leading the thousands of men behind him towards their home.

How unfair fate is, to cut short his life so early. His physicians gave him no more than thirty years, but that time seemed to you to be shortened even more when you finally caught sight of his canopy. There he lay, sprawled and motionless like a dead body, surrounded by the soft cushions and riders on either side of his transport.

Just two years ago such a journey would not have fatigued him in the least; now he was risking his life just by riding a horse. Your eyes threatened to fill with tears thinking about how much he had loved riding a horse, and now he found himself bedridden, unable in his passions. You wasted no time running through the palace corridors, eager to reach your beloved as soon as possible.

One turn to the right, then another, then down the steps, and finally straight to the palace doors, where the finely decorated canopy led the love of your life.

You rushed to his side, gently taking his mutilated hand in yours while the other stroked his masked face. He breathed faintly, his eyes closed as he tried to regain his strength after his disease had dealt him this last bludgeon. Feeling your gentle touch, Baldwin's eyes fluttered open, his glassy eyes the color of heaven meeting yours.

"You've been reckless, my love. Putting your life at risk just to do the job of a messenger!" you scolded him, but Baldwin only smiled fondly at your words. "I promised you I would've come back. And that I did, alive too." Although his voice was so weak that it sounded more like a huff of air rather than a sentence, its tone was still laced with playfulness.

It made you unable to resist the smile that was threatening to form on your lips; you did not grace him with an answer yet, opting instead to move your hand to remove the silver mask from his face. You could see his surprised and relieved expression, as he was now finally able to breathe more freely and to look at you properly. He breathed in the sight of you, almost as if trying to take in as much of you as he could. "I can't tell if it's the travel or the sight of you that takes my breath away."

You just smiled bitterly and shook your head at his silly declarations, "It must be the ride, it has tired you so much that it's making you speak nonsense." he giggled weakly, much more tiredly this time, almost as if he was about to doze off. But he fought the tiredness nonetheless, opting to just shake his head and admire you with a lovestruck look. "Maybe I am hallucinating, I think I'm seeing heaven above me."

It was supposed to be a compliment that would've made you giggle and blush, like the ones that he showered you with daily. But instead, it made your heart clench at the bare idea of it. The idea that this would be his last moments before the energies spent for this expedition would be too much for him to handle, and God will reclaim his most virtuous man. It made your throat tighten, and your lower lip tremble.

You tried to hide your troubled state, moving your hand quickly to the curve of his neck. There, you placed a soft, butterfly-like kiss on the little places of skin that haven't been mutilated and bloodied by the leprosy. You kissed him one more time, then another, and another again..

In the end, you lost count of how many kisses you had given him, in a desperate attempt to mend your premature grief, to ground yourself in the feeling that Baldwin is there. He is alive. Yet the feeling of his skin against yours, of his chest rising up and down and his arms weakly holding your soft body, it wasn't enough to stop the tears to start flowing down your cheeks.

And that didn't go unnoticed to Baldwin, who mustered all his strength left to hold you just a little tighter. "Have my words upset you?" you sniffled, trying to recollect yourself before lifting your head to look into his eyes. "No, my dear, you could never. I just-" you stopped for a second, trying to swallow down the lump that had formed in your throat, "promise me this is the last time. Please, tell me that you will stop this nonsense. Let your trusted men handle these matters, command your man like a king not a general!" your hands had moved to his arms, a gesture to both ground yourself and to accentuate just how desperate you were in that moment, only wanting him to just listen.

"I beg of you, my love, stay here. Where you can rest. We both know that you don't have much more time left to live, so stop doing everything in your power to shorten it anymore." A sob slipped from your mouth at the last part. It truly astonished you how careless he seemed about his own condition, almost as if he forgot that any move could be the death of him.

He frowned and sighed at your words, squeezing your forearms softly before he spoke softly. This time though his tone was clearer, less weakened by the outcomes of the past days. "I already spoke to the physician about this: I have no choice, my angel. I'll be bound to my bed until a miracle will better my condition, or until death will take me."

You shut your eyes in relief, resting your forehead against his and sighing shakily, trying to recompose yourself. "I can't live in a world without you.."

"God will give us more time. I promise I won't leave you as long as I breathe on this earth. And. when my time will be over and there will be no future for us in this life, I'll be waiting for you in heaven, if I'll be granted the blessing of a place next to you there."

Not too long after, the physicians that Saladin had promised him arrived at the palace, and you were assisted as they tended to Baldwin's many wounds caused by his sickness. More than the sight of the gruesome pieces of open flesh, what appalled you was just how numb his body had become, so much so that he did not even feel their hands and tools working into his skin. It made you wonder wether or not he even felt your kisses from before.

And you make yourself that same question months later, when you place one last kiss into his forehead as he slept soundly before going to bed yourself, only to wake up to a cold body beside you. You wonder if he ever got to feel that last gesture of love before God had finally claimed him.

You only found solace in the thought that Baldwin would be resting in the realms of heaven above your head, contrary to what the Saracens believe.

A/N: Wowww this gets more fun by the day!! King Baldwin will probably always be my favorite character to write for. He’s my muse. As always ill be waiting for your feedbacks!!!

Oh and also, be prepared in the future for more fics waiting to be posted, I’ve got about ten that are just waiting for the right time to come to light, and many more will come in the future since I’m really finding it therapeutic to write.