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Baldwin IV is mysterious, intense, valiant, noble and utterly devoted to you, his Queen. But what does this devotion look like?

Firstly, he would believe in you like no other and would always be ready to give you his best advice whenever the weight of your responsibility becomes too much. Foreign rulers would soon learn of your qualities - there would hardly be a piece of correspondence where the King of Jerusalem does not praise the intellect and insight of his dear wife. He would glance at you from time to time, while you both work at your desks sharing the burden of paperwork, silently thanking God for having sent him not only a beautiful, but reliable life companion as well.

He values your opinions greatly and has the utmost regard for your views on political, military and state matters. Disagreements happen, yet your overall values are aligned, which is why Baldwin understands your vision and where your point comes from. During the discussions regarding complex decisions, he would let you speak and explain, then he would offer his honest thoughts on the matter, should he see another, different way from yours. 

Playing chess is a favorite way of spending quality time together in your chambers, away from the chaos of the court. If you know how to play and are proficient at it, he would delight in the thrill of challenge, as he would finally have found a true equal. If you do not know how to play, he would teach you with patience, taking pride whenever you make an unexpected and astute move. He would be such a nerd while he explains the rules to you and would be delighted to see how your mind works when devising a plan.

"Congratulations, dove. You have a checkmate."

I can also see Baldwin taking you on long rides, if his health allows it. He would sweetly check the reins and saddle on your horse before mounting on his steed and leading you away to enjoy the cool early morning breeze, before the heat of Jerusalem becomes too sweltering. You would have a nice and secluded spot to enjoy and to pretend that you are a couple of young lovers without responsibilities and crowns weighing on your heads.

Your presence brings him safety and comfort, which is what would convince him to remove his mask when he is alone with you and the physicians. He would especially love to rest his head on your lap as you gently caress his curls while the physicians tend to his skin. It is a sacred moment. He does not know how he went so long without your presence during this delicate time. Speaking softly to each other, you would distract him from the pain with talk of your hometown, fairy tales from your culture, or even simply reflecting on a happening of that day. On these occasions, you learn how to best take care of him, watching the physician tend to his arm while you tend to the other, delicately dabbing the cloth over his wounded skin. Baldwin feels so protected and safe in your presence. He thinks you are God’s greatest gift to him.

Now, jealousy. Baldwin knows he boasts the honor of having an exquisite flower such as yourself to call his own. As do powerful men and courtiers from distant lands. Many covet your loveliness as one would a precious gem. Should one of these foolish people try to take you from him or even stare at you for too long to be considered proper, they would be met with a pure force to be reckoned with. Should a knight’s eye linger on you for too long, he would be quick to put him in place in his signature glacial, elegant way. Before long, everyone learns not to disrespect the Queen consort of Jerusalem.

“Perhaps you would have understood my point, had you not been so insolently ogling my wife”. He takes out his whip. “On your knees. You will pay for insulting the Queen”.

He would protect you with his life. He swore to protect Jerusalem and, as its Queen, that includes first of all you. Should a courtier doubt your devotion and mistake it for thirst for power, or should he learn of an orchestrated attempt on your life, he would waste no time in employing his best forces in your service to defend you.

His enemies and templars alike fear him, yet with you he is as gentle as the morning breeze that gently caresses Jerusalem. This powerful king who makes armies tremble and kingdoms shake is the same person who holds and kisses your hand (when in public, bringing your fingers to the lips of his mask), who silently admires your loveliness from afar and sighs to himself, who longs for your warmth after a tiring day. 

He would write you letters. Lots of them. And not always when he is away. Maybe he just liked the way the sun reflected in your eyes that morning. Or maybe when you helped a servant, he was moved by your kindness. Your every action inspires him, so much so that he has to let out his thoughts on paper. You have a pretty wooden box brimming with delicate papers penned by Baldwin in your honor. He is not only the King of Jerusalem, but also the king of pining, of yearning. Even when he has you near, he yearns for you.

I love to imagine him letting you accompany him to battle. He would love it too, in theory. You make him so strong, the both of you would be quite the sight, meeting your enemies head on, as one, donning your best armors. Yet, at the same time I cannot imagine him resting easy knowing that a loose arrow, a desperate soldier seeking glory for killing the Queen of Jerusalem, or fatigue and sickness could take you from him. It pains his heart to be parted from you, yet he cannot risk your safety. Instead, Baldwin would trust you with ruling the kingdom. He has absolute faith in your intelligence, willpower and cleverness, especially after all he has taught you about running the realm. He longs for you every second he’s away from Jerusalem, yet his heart is at peace knowing his kingdom is in the most capable hands.

When he feels that his time on this Earth is nearing his end, he calls for his most trusted advisors, including Balian and Tiberias. He would ask them, almost begging, to protect you always, at all costs, when he is no longer there to do so. Balian and Tiberias would exchange a quick glance to each other, vowing to respect their King’s wish until the very end.

“Protect her. Please.” “Always, my Lord”.

Poems, songs and stories would be written in honor of your love even centuries after your passing. Many tales would speak of Baldwin IV of Jerusalem and his Queen. Different pieces of art, such as paintings and ballads, would inspire people from all over the world to find a love as devoted and unshakable as yours. Until the very end.

Their father sits nearby, King Baldwin, your husband, your love, wrapped as always in his layers of linen and cloth. The mask rests on his face, pale and unmoving, yet his eyes find you as easily as it always has.

You know he wants to sit with you three. You can see the longing in his eyes. But you know why he refuses to join you.

It is your eldest who talks first.

“Tell it again,” she whispers, tugging gently at your sleeve. “How you met Father.”

You smile, looking toward Baldwin. His head tilts ever so slightly, approval, and interest. As if he also wished to hear the story.

“Again?” you tease.

“Yes,” your youngest insists, already crawling into your lap. “It’s my favourite.”

You press a kiss to her temple and begin with the story.

“You must remember, I was not meant to meet your father at all. I was sent to the court for entirely different reasons. I thought him distant. Cold, even.”

A noise of amusement leaves Baldwin. You choose to ignore him and continue.

“He said very little. Watched everything. It was quite unsettling.”

“I was observing,” he replies calmly.

“You were judging,” you counter.

“I was deciding,” he corrects.

The girls giggle.

“And what did you decide?” your eldest asks.

“That your mother was the most stubborn woman I had ever met.”

You gasp softly in mock offence.

“I was not.”

“You refused to bow properly,” he continues.

“I tripped,” you argue.

“You glared at me.”

“I was embarrassed!”

The girls dissolve into laughter, clinging to you.

“And then?” the youngest prompts, eyes wide.

“And then I realised,” you say, glancing at Baldwin, “that your father was not cold at all. Only careful. Kind, in ways that were quiet and easily missed.”

Baldwin stares at you. Even behind the mask, you feel it as clearly as if his face were bare.

“And I realised that your mother saw me as I was. Not as others feared.”

Silence falls, soft and full.

The youngest shifts slightly, her small fingers fidgeting.

“Father?” she asks hesitantly.

“Yes, little one?”

“Will we ever see your face? Or your hands?”

The question hangs in the air.

Almost knocks all of it out.

Your heart tightens, but Baldwin does not flinch. Instead, he leans forward slightly in his chair.

“My sweet girl, my body is… different. It is something I must protect, and something that could make others afraid if they do not understand.”

She frowns.

“But we wouldn’t be afraid.”

“I know, I know you would not. But part of loving someone is also keeping them safe. And this,” he gestures faintly to himself, “is how I do that.”

The eldest considers this carefully.

“So it’s like armour?” she asks.

“Yes,” he says with a nod. “Something like that.”

The youngest leans into you, still thinking.

“But we know what you look like,” she says suddenly.

Baldwin tilts his head. “Oh?”

She nods, very certain.

“You have the prettiest eyes, Mama says so.”

Your breath catches, and you smile, brushing her hair back.

“It’s true. The most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.”

Baldwin is still for a moment, but you speak up before him.

“And you both have them,” you continue, looking between your daughters. “His eyes. Bright and strong.”

The eldest beams. The youngest gasps in delight.

“We do?”

“You do. Both of you.” Your husband confirms.

They look at him now, completely unbothered by cloth or crown or anything else the world might whisper.

“Then we look like you,” the eldest says proudly.

“You do,” he repeats.

You shift slightly, gathering both girls closer.

The four of you, tucked into a small world of warmth and love.

“Tell us another story,” the youngest mumbles sleepily.

“Tomorrow,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to her hair before helping them both to lie down in their beds.

And as your daughters drift to sleep, you meet his eyes once more.

You do not need to see his face.

You never did.

~Masterlist~

Ah, congratulations! You have managed to capture the heart and attention of the great Baldwin IV of Jerusalem. Baldwin never much contemplated the thought of love, having to face war, his disease and the duty to defend his kingdom from great enemies from a very young age. The weight of the crown and of his responsibilities sits heavy on his head. Which is why you are a breath of fresh air in his chaotic life. No matter how he notices you - maybe you spoke up during a conflicting situation, offering valuable insight, or maybe the King randomly met you while you strolled in his gardens, or maybe he was impressed by your spirit and fighting abilities - having Baldwin’s attention is an honor. You should be proud!

After noticing you, the King would invite you to spend time with him to get to know you better, although without the intention of courting you, at first. As like-minded individuals who share the same principles, a genuine friendship would quickly bloom between you. Even if your interests wouldn’t align at first, you would soon find yourselves eager to share your knowledge. For instance, Baldwin would listen  to you talk about the plot of the book you’re reading and the lesson you are learning from it without ever taking those blue eyes off of you. He would not only listen, but remember your conversations, as they offer him invaluable insight on the person that you are.

Even Baldwin doesn’t notice at first how much your presence is soothing to him. He keeps inviting you to mass on Sundays (giving you the honor of sitting next to him), to a walk in his gardens where he would ask you about your day, to chess games where you would have battles of wits. The hours would pass dreadfully quickly during these meetings.

Baldwin would have a random epiphany about how deeply he aches for you, and it would steal his breath. During a strategy or diplomatic meeting with his advisors, he would catch himself thinking about you. Maybe someone mentioned your homeland and suddenly his thoughts are spiraling about how your laugh warmed his heart that day, or how lovely you looked with your hair done just like that, or how he wished he could be with you. That is when it would dawn on him that you have taken much more space in his heart than he anticipated. Baldwin never gets distracted during state affairs meetings. And you managed to distract him.

This is when the doubts would creep in. He knows he can’t have an heir born of his own flesh and blood (his heart would clench when he sees you play with Sibylla’s son), thus making marriage an unnecessary option. And yet he desires it with you. It would not be a political marriage, but a union of two souls meant to be together. But would you accept to tie yourself to him in such a way, knowing that the Angel of death would come to take him from you so soon? That he would condemn you to an eternity of grieving and widowhood?

Yet, the more time he spends with you, the more fiercely you latch onto his heart. You are just so dear to him, first of all because he can feel that your interest in him is genuine, not tainted by the thirst for power. Your kindness and sensitivity have stolen his heart even before your looks did. I like to imagine that he would allow himself to be selfish and before he knows it, his mind is set, and he will start courting you. 

“Your Grace!” You quickly stand up from the bench, your book falling from your lap to lay forgotten near the rose bushes. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve been visited by an Angel - all you see is the white and gold of his robe swirling with the wind, sunlight glinting off of the familiar silver mask. You bow as King Baldwin approaches you. What has him out in such a rush, as if a horde of Saracens were at his door? The King says your name with a trembling breath, his shoulders heaving from exertion. You look even more ethereal than ever - sunlight framing you like a halo and the rose bushes arching above you, bathing you in a rainbow of red, pink, orange and white blossoms. He closes the distance between you, coming as close as he dares without breaching the rules of propriety. Something latches fiercely onto his heart when he sees the way you’re looking at him, bright eyes shining with awe and hope, lips slightly parted. Emboldened by your reaction, the King stretches his arm out behind you, gloved hand closing around the stem of a white rose. He pulls at the flower, and you wonder if he can feel the prick of the thorns. The thought is quickly forgotten when he hands the rose to you. This is so unlike him, but at this moment Baldwin feels more like a boy in love, not a King courting his beloved. He repeats your name, relishing the way your face lights up when he pronounces each syllable. “Please, allow me the honor of courting you.”

He would literally be the picture of honor and romance when courting. It’s just what you deserve! Speaking of gifts, he won’t spend a fortune on generic luxury items such as large gems or fine clothes; he’d pick out quality pieces that would be unique and surprisingly perfectly suited to your aesthetic, showing you how thoughtful he really is. Elegant quills, delicate hair pins, rare books, extravagantly scented candles or exotic fragrances would be more his style. He likes to hand the gifts to you when you are out together because he loves seeing your pretty face light up, but I also like to imagine him letting you find the presents in your chambers, with a sweet note attached, for you to still think of him when your day is coming to a close (not that you wouldn’t otherwise). Later on in the courting stage, he’d even have a chess board made just for you where the queen and king match your likeness, for you to enjoy matches together! (That chess board is now in a museum).

Another way of spending quality time would be horse riding. He would be very gallant even if you were a proficient rider, waving away the guards to offer you his hand himself to help you get on and off the horse and making sure that you are correctly mounted first. He’d make your heart race while holding his hand, which is surprisingly strong and firm under his soft glove. When asked about your sudden flush, you would blame it on the hot Jerusalem winds and sun.

His sister would be one of the first people to notice that you found the King’s favor. She is very observant, yet it does not take an expert to see that you and Baldwin have grown quite close. All in all, Sibylla would approve of you and your union with Baldwin, especially after seeing how truly devoted you are to spending time together for the pleasure of each other’s company, without seeking political advantage. She would invite you to spend time together, such as chatting while having your henna painted, because she wants to get to know the person who clearly stole her brother’s heart.

All in all, I think a courtship with Baldwin would be sweet, hopeful and discreet at first. Soon enough, the court would see that Baldwin is quite taken with you. The most ambitious courtesans would use this knowledge in hopes of exploiting your connection with the King to their advantage. Luckily, I also think Baldwin would be quite protective, and as soon as he senses that you’re attracting unwanted attention, he would get Tiberias, Balian or a trusted advisor to help him keep an eye on you. However, on a positive note, you would instantly gain the respect of the most loyal members of the court. After all, if a King as wise as Baldwin has chosen you, that speaks volumes about your character. 🙂

Although he didn't like it when (Y/N) would try to put it into his mouth. Bruce would gently remove it from his mouth, shushing the little whines of protest.

"No little one, that does not go into your mouth." Bruce gently pried it away from (Y/N)'s mouth, making the little one whine. "I know, I know, you want it, but can't have it."

Jason was sitting down on the floor in the play area made for (Y/N). The mat was soft and warm as (Y/N) was wiggling around on it, although he paused on Jason's hands. Jason watched in silence as (Y/N) would look, tilt his head and then grab at his fingers. It seemed like he was counting, although he did not know how to count. Just put his finger out and then touch each finger on Jason's hand, one by one.

Then he would just stare at it, almost like he got distracted by something, then would get back to counting. Jason watched the process, enjoying the sight. (Y/N) was such an adorable little baby. Quiet, low maintenance, and just... Little sunshine of the family.

You had a bad day? You just held (Y/N) for some time and all the bad energy and bad thought from the day, went away. Just like a little, mini, portable sunshine. Jason turned his head, hearing the door open. It was Tim, who just woke up from a long nap. Which was a shocker, since Tim doesn't sleep.

"Welcome to the land of the living," Jason teased, making Tim roll his eyes before sitting down next to him, taking (Y/N) into his arms. "Not now Jason."

"Bad day?"

"Bad patrol... Really bad. Trafficking with kids."

Jason just nodded, watching as (Y/N) focused on Tim's shirt.

"It's always bad when kids are involved... You all thought of (Y/N), right?"

Tim nodded. "Yeah. Damian nearly ended one of the traffickers. Dick and Bruce had to hold him back."

Jason let out a hum, gently tickling (Y/N) who squealed at the feeling. "I do not blame him. I would have done the same thing. I can only imagine the GCPD was rough with them. And that once they go to jail, inmates will take care of them."

Tim smiled at (Y/N), who was frowning as he tried to start counting Tim's fingers.

"I swear, this little one always puts a smile on all our faces."

"Agreed." Tim also tickled (Y/N), who in turn let out a loud squeal of happiness.

"Damian and Dick will probably come soon enough to cuddle the little guy. Bruce won't be so far behind." Tim adjusted (Y/N) in his arms who started pouting before reaching for Jason.

"Oh, I have no doubt." Jason took (Y/N), who calmed down as he got back to counting Jason's fingers.

Tim sighed, looking at (Y/N), the little sunshine untouched by the world. Oh, if only they could keep him that way.

Bruce held (Y/N) as he was sitting on the couch, reading the newspaper. But (Y/N) was not happy. He was fussing, whining and Bruce looked up, putting the paper away.

"What's wrong? Hm?" Bruce gently tried to soothe him, standing up to rock him gently, but the fussing and whimpering wouldn't stop.

Dick walked in and paused for a moment. "Is he okay?"

Bruce looked at his son, still trying to soothe (Y/N). "I don't, he has been fussy for a minute or so."

"Where is his plushie? The Batman one?" Dick questioned and Bruce realized what was missing.

"Ah, Alfred said he was going to wash it, since it was covered in drool and snot from the cold he had. It should be out of the dryer soon enough."

Dick let out a huh. "I'll go get the plushie then."

Bruce turned his attention to the fussy baby as he tried to soothe his son.

"I know, but the plushie was so gross with your own saliva and that snot of yours. Unhygienic." Bruce gently rubbed his son's back, watching the door, hoping that Dick would come soon enough.

And Dick came back not even 2 minutes later with the little plushie, handing it to (Y/N), who immediately settled down once the plushie was in his tiny hands, already drooling on it. Then started chewing. Bruce just sighed.

"Of course."

Damian left (Y/N) on the couch for a minute to get some water from the kitchen. Everyone around the couch was babyproofed, so there was no way that (Y/N) would fall off of the couch in any way, shape or form. (Y/N) just sat there, just waiting for a few seconds. Then the boredom came in.

He looked at the trash bag on the couch, before crawling over to it. He started gurgling as he touched the trash bag, enjoying the sound of it as he was moving it around. But once he threw it up in the air and it landed?

It was game over. Absolute game over. Gurgling and laughing. Damian paused from the kitchen, hearing the happy sounds coming from the living room. He peaked his head into the living room, watching (Y/N) have the time of his life with a random trash bag.

A plastic trash bag.

Not all the toys they bought for him, expensive ones because Bruce wanted the best for him, but a random trash bag. A random trash bag.

Damian wasn't sure whether to be insulted or not surprised that this little one is happy with a trash bag. Well, as long as (Y/N) is happy, he should be happy.

He took his phone out and started filming. He wasn't letting this moment slide. He filmed for about 30 seconds before sending the video to the group chat, before coming over to (Y/N), who was distracted by the bag still.

"Perhaps I was wrong about you when father first brought you here. Although I am still the stronger son."

Despite clearly being a creature born of evil, you weren’t actually causing trouble for humans…mostly. At least not on purpose like a demon did; you were capable of listening to reason. The only problem was if you ever felt like listening. Frieren had encountered many beasts, but she never met a man who was a living incarnate of a deadly sin before.

Your sloth likeness made it to where you were not only lazy enough to lay on the side of the road, but that you wouldn’t even get up upon being ran over their carriage. It was appalling to say the least. And then you made yourself at home inside their carriage like it was normal. Fern threatened to “obliterate this perverted man” but all you did was shrug.

Frieren first thought your sin was of face value, that you were just lazy; yet that initial thought was quickly snuffed out. Frieren saw a lot of her past self in you: apathetic, emotionally unavailable, and lonely. To see how your suffering was so deeply embedded in you; so strong that even others would fall prey to your pain and suffer together with you. She then knew you were dangerous, not because of who you were…but because of what you could make others become.

“Do you still intend to do nothing?” Fern chastised (Y/N). His body was limp on the cottage’s roof, sun blaring down on him. “Your negative energy is disturbing our peace. Stop clinging to us like a parasite.”

“Or a bad fungal infection.” Stark chided in, holding out a cup of coffee for Fern.

(Y/N) lifted himself up, just barely mustering the strength to as he fell off the roof. A large crater surrounded him upon impact, his malnourished body not looking capable of such a feat. His eyes, devoid of life, gazed at the two stern humans.

“In a vast deep void of life, existence all surrounding, I am in the midst; not important to lead, yet too much to throw away. My mere existence is caused by the existence of others. I am nothing, yet not dead. Therefore I am.” He said.

“…what?” They asked in unison.

Elf ears poked out the sidelines, indicating of the sudden appearance of Frieren. She crouched down towards (Y/N), lifting him out of the crater and making him sit upright with her magic. “He is essentially saying that the existence of humanity’s sloth created him, and that his nature is influenced by it.”

She grabbed (Y/N)’s chin, holding it in place as she examined his eyes. “It does beg the question of it would be possible to change such a nature for the betterment of society; would you die? Or would you simply change?” She asked him.

(Y/N) gently pushed her hand away, holding his neck with both hands.

…

“I’m too scared to know.”

Himmel felt bad for you, a man who was the living embodiment of sloth. He saw a lost soul that couldn’t ever heal because of his own nature. And because of that he wanted to help you. Himmel invited you to spend the week with his party as they were currently holding up in a village, strapped for cash.

Yet despite Himmel’s best efforts to help you feel comfortable with his friends, you just didn’t put in any effort. In fact it was almost as if you were intentionally avoiding him. You carried a deeply apatheic demeanor; too melancholic to get out of bed, and too indifferent to try. An inherent lack of interest in anything made it easy enough for Himmel to at least trust you wouldn’t cause harm.

But your sin went even further than he thought. Your presence changed those around you. And their presence in turn affected you. In your room alone at night he could hear you mumbling, vocalizing your dark thoughts: nothing mattered, you’d fail anyways, everyone was better off without you. Those words plagued his mind, causing sleepless nights and troubling emotions. He couldn’t let your actions interfere with his purpose, so he asked you why you were the way you are.

“My mere existence is marked by a struggle. That struggle is that I am against a world that demands action. But action comes with responsibility.” (Y/N) mumbled to Himmel, his voice barely above a whisper.

He was exhausted, more so than usual. Himmel had (Y/N) come with him further outside into the forest, away from the village before he could start affecting the others.

They sat across from each other under two trees, the sun casting down on Himmel, whilst a shadow fell upon (Y/N).

Himmel leaned forward, “But how could action be a struggle?” The young hero scratched his head with clear confusion. “Are you not always acting? Wouldn’t simply existing be pain then?” He asked the sinner once more.

(Y/N) chuckled, though it was hollow and short; no real emotion behind it. “Existence is pain for everyone…even you.” Himmel flinched at his words, now leaning further away from him; he was beginning to feel uneasy.

“Elaborate.”

(Y/N) continued, “The longer you live the more you realize it: they’ll outlive you. Eisen, Frieren, it’s inevitable. After all, death is the price one pays for having lived.” He hovered his hand above a blooming flower, both watching as it slowly wilted.

“Living is pain. And forcing yourself to make it enjoyable is torture. Rotting like a corpse makes it easy forget everything—responsibility, commitments, risks, all of it.”

Something about (Y/N) words was making Himmel’s brain tick; just like before at the village. The things he said held a power to them. To make someone feel like they were slowly dying beside him.

Even if unintentional, (Y/N) had almost done the same to Himmel.

Still he smiled at the sinner, sitting up and offering him a hand.

“You’re paralyzed by the fear of responsibility, right? Then I’ll just have to show you how great it can be.”

“…why?”

“Because…that’s my responsibility!”

For a corrupt priest, even Heiter felt a sense of duty when he saw you. A man who felt nothing, thought of nothing, and chose to do absolutely nothing. It wasn’t just physical laziness, but even a spiritual apathy; an indifference to the world around you. Never taking responsibility for how your words, actions, or presence could affect anyone’s spirituality; including your own.

People would come to Heiter for guidance, but after you showed up, they always left with a sense of dread. Many devotees admitted to having intrusive thoughts of wanting to refuse the goddesses will. They’d neglected their prayer and developed a general disregard for life, love, and purpose; all whilst mentioning the echoing raspy voice of a defeated man in their sleep.

Heiter knew he couldn’t let your spiritual and physical inertia dictate the lives of his neighbors, people that see him as a trusted confidant. But your power was strong; a sin of sloth so powerful it affected others within a large radius over a long period of time. Heiter invited you to his home to provide you, a being of strife, with refuge; now it was his time to take responsibility.

“(Y/N), you’ve barely touched your beer.” Heiter pestered him. The corrupt priest wanted to have a nice evening drink before he said goodbye to the man. Yet (Y/N) just leaned back in the chair. “Something wrong? I know you’re not upset about me having you leave.”

He nodded in agreement before finally taking a sip. The bitter taste soon turned sweet in a delectably addictive manner. He downed it all in one chug, leaning back into the chair.

“Since being here…I feel…weaker; more than usual.” He said in small breaths, not quite having the strength to speak.

Heiter finally placed down his cup, now holding a stern expression. “Are you dying?”

(Y/N) smiled at the insinuation that he could die, raising his eyebrows in amusement. “No. I can’t die. But now more than ever I have wanted to. Yet I don’t have the drive to actually do it.”

Heiter coughed into his hand at the shocking words. His eyes wavered, becoming much more gentle as he stared at the weakened sloth.

“Why would you want that? There’s so much to live for, even though your existence can hurt others.”

(Y/N) sat up straight with distant gaze in his eyes, irises seemingly growing darker. “I’ve never wanted to be a different person more than since I met you. The worries people come to you with resonate deeply with me, yet while they have the capacity to change, I cannot.”

Heiter listened, shoving his drink aside and giving (Y/N) his full attention.

“…My very being feels a need to remain spiritually indifferent to good, never wanting to pursue it. I feel a deep-seated sorrow whenever I think about having the will to do anything.”

“And you want to be different so badly because it hurts to watch others drown in your misery. Yet you can’t bear changing; not just because of what you are, but because if you failed it would mean you were destined to be alone.” Heiter finished. (Y/N) nodded.

The priest stood up, strolling over and patting (Y/N) on the back. “But why the sudden change?” He asked.

(Y/N) thought for a moment, his face twitching as he tried to find the right answer.

And then the color came back to his eyes.

“It was comforting…hearing what you’d say to them everyday.”

Hmm…interesting. Lügner never had met a creature like you before; an abomination born from the defiled earth. Your capabilities could prove useful. In fact, you were the exact kind of man Lügner needed to achieve his goals. A sin of omission, allowing other vices to take hold and further ruin the lives of yourself and others. On paper it was all perfect…until it wasn’t.

In hindsight Lügner should have seen it coming, but demons had always been rather prideful. Demons already held “emotions” that were purely negative; your presence amplified those feelings. Many times throughout the day and night Lügner would be overcome with profound despair, his mind filled with overwhelming apathy that manifested to a complete lack of motivation for anything.

Your ability to induce your sin in others made Lügner safer, ironically. He was too depressed to feast on human flesh, so he would starve himself. He weakened his body so much it hurt to do anything; doing nothing felt like torture but it was also his only relief. Lügner hated a lot of things…but you…he never hated a man more than he did you.

Inaction.

There was utterly nothing Lügner felt like doing that day. He was supposed to be gathering the humans’ favor by being a “diplomat” for demons. Yet he couldn’t get up.

At this point that damn sinners powers were going to give the humans a false positive; (Y/N) was making everyone depressed. But he just kept crawling around, not even having the will to walk. All whilst everyone around him suffered.

Lügner didn’t dare speak to him, not wanting to have to withstand the pain of speaking. So there they lay across from each other. One glaring as the other fought sleep.

That’s just who (Y/N) was. Even before he put Lügner in that self destructive state, (Y/N) was always lethargic. He was disheveled, he stank, he looked like death, and he barely spoke.

All it took was looking at him to know the man was worse than a demon.

Yet Lügner couldn’t get up.

If he could just muster the strength and run—run to somewhere safer and get his strength back. But then that would mean admitting he, a powerful demon, was outmatched.

But he couldn’t.

And he knew exactly why.

Because even if he came back with a legion.

Because even if he found the strength.

Lügner would never win this battle against (Y/N); that damn sinner; that damned sloth being of pure evil.

Because Lügner was afraid.

And even as he glared, he knew (Y/N) saw it too.