Welcome, traveler, to the Kingdom of Heaven ;)

Fluff

King Baldwin IV reaction to drunk reader

King Baldwin IV reaction to reader being injured by her brother in law

Waking up early morning with Baldwin

Baldwin and Salah ad Din's daughter

Baldwin teaching his son chess and reader admiring them slight angst

Reader being married to Baldwin since childhood sharing kiss after Battle of Montgisard

Reader being blackmailed to leave Baldwin

Baldwin celebrating Christmas with reader and his in-laws in modern world

Jealous Baldwin reaction to reader wearing bikini

Baldwin comforting wife!reader after difficult birth

King Baldwin IV x Reader : Tantalizing Love slight angst

Reader teaches Baldwin to cook whilst she is pregnant

Baldwin taking care of pregnant wife reader

King Baldwin IV proposes female reader

(Y/N) gets caught Baldwin IV trying to heal him

Modern Day Baldwin and (Y/N) meeting again after dreaming of each other

Baldwin IV celebrates (Y/N)'s Birthday

Headcanon

Being queen consort of Jerusalem

King Baldwin IV as lover, husband and father

King Baldwin IV being angry at reader

Angst

King Baldwin IV being unfaithful to reader Alternate ending 1 Alternate ending 2

King Baldwin IV has to annul his marriage with reader

Lost Cause

Baldwin choosing between woman and he loves and woman he has to marry

Baldwin reaction to wife!reader trying to cure him

King Baldwin IV being angry at reader Part 1 Part 2

King Baldwin IV reaction to female reader who is missing is actually dead New!

Christmas Eve Special New!

King Baldwin IV reaction to female reader taking revenge on him New!

Smut

King Baldwin IV x Reader: Throne Sex

King Baldwin IV x Reader : Misogyny Sex

King Baldwin IV x Reader : Period Sex

King Baldwin IV x Reader: Erotic Night

King Baldwin IV seducing shy physician reader

King Baldwin IV spending honeymoon night with reader

Reader asking Baldwin help for her lactating breasts

Baldwin and chubby wife!reader trying anal sex

King Baldwin IV x Small!Reader Smut : Size Kink

Baldwin IV and Salahuddin's daughter (y/n) having sex for first time before their first battle

Baldwin IV being pervert towards (Y/N)

Baldwin and Salahuddin

King Baldwin IV x Reader x Saladin Part 1 Part 2 Part 3New! smut

Widowed reader marries Salahuddin angst

Salahuddin

Reader spoils him and loves being near him

Horror

Spectral Descent

History

A letter from King Baldwin IV and Princess Sibylla of Jerusalem Source: https://epistolae.ctl.columbia.edu/letter/25233.html

King Baldwin IV of Jerusalem appearance-STUDY by MariaExe on DeviantArt.com Artist- MariaExe on DeviantArt

King Baldwin IV appearance based on historical painting Part 1 Part 2

A letter From King Baldwin IV of Jerusalem to King Louis VII of France Source: Bernhard Hamilton -The Leper King and his heirs

LETTER FROM KING BALDWIN IV TO THE ENVOYS WITH NEWS OF SALADIN RAVAGES NABLUS, SEBASTE, AND OTHER TOWNS

Source:https://goodshksk.space/product_details/13546547.html

A Letter of Condolence to King Baldwin IV from Saladin Source: https://advocatetanmoy.com/2023/10/14/saladins-condolence-letter-to-king-baldwin-iv-of-jerusalem/

Seal of King Baldwin IV of Jerusalem Source:https://numismatics.org/collection/1956.152.1

Medieval Heroes: Baldwin IV

Miscellaneous

Would Baldwin be attracted to chubby and short person

Would Baldwin be unfaithful historically

Salahuddin: The conqueror of Jerusalem series King Baldwin IV

Would Baldwin be obsessive or possessive

Would Baldwin be impotent and would he be able to have sexual relationship

Can Baldwin be able to have sexual relationship: Revised Version

Did Historical Baldwin wear a mask and dress like the movie Kingdom of Heaven

Blurbs

NSFW thoughts

I was wondering if you could write about a Baldwin who left Y/N for the sake of the crown/she left him for infidelity (if you want both for more suffering) and who now suffers to see her married and happy with someone else... Uhm maybe with a child involved too, I just want to suffer with angst!

Happy new year btw <3

"The Silent Cries of a King and Queen" Part 1

Baldwin IV sat silently in his chambers, tapping his fingers nervously against the armrest of his chair. The room had fallen into an uneasy silence after the court's relentless demands, their merciless stares etched into his memory. He had sought even a hint of compassion from the bishops, the nobles, or even his family, but none had offered him the solace he needed. He could practically hear their unspoken condemnation: "You are king; it is your duty." Desperately, Baldwin had tried to offer alternatives. "My cousin, Philip of Alsace, is coming to provide relief. I am prepared to abdicate the throne once a suitable consort is chosen for my sister, Sybilla." But his mother, Agnes, shook her head violently, her voice cold yet pleading.

"Your Majesty, your love for Lady Y/N is known, but we cannot dismiss the kingdom's needs. A king afflicted by leprosy :a judgment of God will only bring chaos if it is discovered that he has married. Your regency is respected, but it cannot last. The Kingdom of Jerusalem, the birthplace of Our Lord, must survive, even if we do not. We cannot allow it to fall to the infidels." Baldwin's lips twitched in frustration, but Agnes's whispered plea was the final blow. "Please..." she murmured, her eyes glistening with urgency. Baldwin inhaled sharply, his resolve cracking. "Very well. So it shall be done," he said at last, his voice heavy with resignation. "Court is dismissed."

Baldwin walked slowly to Y/N's chambers, his heart heavy with fear not of his disease, but of the emotional torment this decision had caused him. Each step felt like a betrayal. He stopped before her door, hesitating as he raised his hand to knock. "Y/N, please forgive me," he whispered to himself. "If I could, I would never allow this to happen." A sweet, cheerful voice called from inside, breaking his thoughts. "Come in!" Baldwin took a deep breath, steeling himself, and entered. Y/N was seated by the window, a book resting on her lap. Her face lit up at the sight of him. "Welcome home, Baldwin!" she said warmly, setting the book aside and moving to embrace him. Baldwin closed his eyes, allowing himself to savor her touch one last time but as she pulled back and looked up at him, her smile faded. "What’s wrong? You look like you’ve just received a death sentence." Baldwin’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Something like that," he muttered. Y/N laughed nervously. "Oh, Baldwin, you looked so serious that I almost took your joke seriously." But deep down, a cold dread settled in her chest. Baldwin never joked about their relationship. His voice, now firm and regal, shattered her hopes. "Y/N, I am serious. We need an annulment." Her face froze, the color draining from her cheeks. She laughed again, though this time it was hollow. "What...what are you saying? Is this because of something I’ve done? Please, Baldwin, tell me, and I’ll change anything you ask, I’ll do it. Just please, don’t leave me!" Her voice cracked as tears spilled down her cheeks. Baldwin’s heart clenched painfully. "Y/N, please don’t cry," he said, his voice breaking. He reached out to comfort her, but she slapped his hand away. "Don’t touch me!" she cried, her voice trembling with fury. "You swore, Baldwin! You swore you’d never let this disease come between us! And now, you’re doing exactly that!" Baldwin lowered his head, tears streaming silently down his face. "I have no choice," he explained, his voice barely audible. "The court refuses to recognize you as queen. They threaten to place Raymond of Tripoli on the throne if I don’t comply. I am a king first, a husband second..." Y/N’s face hardened, her tears continuing to fall as she whispered bitterly. "As if you didn’t know this would happen. All you kings are selfish." Baldwin flinched, his voice heavy with sadness. "Perhaps we are. Especially me." She stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she gave a bitter smile. "Very well. I’ll agree to the annulment." Baldwin felt his heart shatter. He tried to maintain his composure as he replied. "Lady Y/N, I am grateful for your graciousness. I promise, once this is over, I will return to you, and we can be together again." He leaned forward to kiss her forehead, but when he moved to kiss her lips, she turned her head away. He sighed. "I will inform you of the dates to appear in court." With that, he left, his steps heavy. As the door closed, Y/N laughed softly, her tone laced with bitterness. "You’re a fool, Baldwin, if you think I’ll let you discard me so easily. You’ve ruined my life, and now I’ll ruin yours."Months passed, and Philip of Alsace arrived in Jerusalem. Baldwin, when questioned, claimed his previous marriage was a mere political arrangement, devoid of love—a lie that cut deeply. Yet rumors began to swirl when Philip’s absence from court became noticeable. One night, Baldwin decided to confront him. Approaching Philip’s chambers, Baldwin froze as he heard muffled voices from inside. His blood ran cold when he recognized Y/N’s voice. "Aren’t I better than your king?" she purred, her voice loud and clear. Philip chuckled darkly. "He could never compare to you." Baldwin’s chest tightened as the betrayal became undeniable. He staggered back, his mind reeling, the sounds of their betrayal echoing in his ears.

Baldwin felt the blood drain from his face, his hands trembling as he reached for the door. No, it couldn't be her. Despite the fear clawing at his heart, he pushed it open. The sight before him froze him in place: there, entwined in the throes of passion, was Philip of Alsace and Y/N. She was straddling Philip, her body moving rhythmically, while Philip seemed either too lost in bliss or too indifferent to care about the intrusion. Baldwin's breathing hitched, but the real blow came when Y/N noticed his presence. Instead of shock or shame, she smirked. That smirk cut deeper than any sword. She continued, her voice dripping with mockery as she moaned Philip's name louder, almost daring Baldwin to react. "Y/N!" Baldwin roared, his voice shaking with anger and disbelief. His fury took over, and he stormed toward her. But Y/N’s smirk deepened, her eyes alight with mock fear. "Philip," she whimpered in mock fear, "he's scaring me." Philip, as though waking from a trance, reached for the sword resting nearby. Rising with deliberate slowness, he faced Baldwin, his expression bored. With one powerful shove, he sent Baldwin sprawling to the ground. Baldwin hit the floor with a sickening thud, his body shaking as he struggled to rise. His wide eyes darted between Philip, who now wore a look of annoyance, and Y/N, whose smile radiated satisfaction. Phillip then went to close the door in the room to not attract attention. "Why, Y/N?" Baldwin whispered, his voice cracking with pain. "Why would you do this?" Philip stepped forward, standing over Baldwin like a predator cornering its prey. "Your Majesty," he said, his voice dripping with derision, "you must understand how tiresome this is for everyone. Y/N deserves better than the misery of being tied to a man like you." "She is mine, Philip!" Baldwin spat, his voice rising with anger as he glared up at the count. "You dare touch what belongs to me, King of Jerusalem?" Philip turned back toward the bed, clearly uninterested in the king’s grief. “She’s scared,” he said, motioning for Y/N to come to him. Y/N ran into Philip’s arms, burying her face in his chest with a mock whimper. Philip stroked her hair, his voice low and soothing. “Don’t worry, my dear. You shouldn't be scared.” Hearing that, Baldwin pushed himself off the floor, his anger flaring anew. “I will see you stripped of your title as Queen of Jerusalem and locked in the darkest cell until further notice!” His voice was like thunder, the force of it shaking even Philip’s calm demeanor. Philip sighed in annoyance, turning to Baldwin with an almost patronizing gaze. “Your Majesty, let’s not be rash. It would be such a bother for all of us, especially for poor Y/N here. I can’t let her suffer because of your tantrum.” “She is my wife!” Baldwin roared, his voice echoing through the chamber. “Not yours, Philip! She belongs to me!” Philip chuckled darkly, clicking his tongue as if scolding a child. “She was never yours to begin with, Baldwin,” he said casually, his hand still stroking Y/N’s hair. “She’s told me everything: how you used your power to force her into this marriage. A sham of a union that you yourself admitted was never consummated.” Baldwin froze, his gaze snapping to Y/N. Her bold lie hit him like a slap to the face. “Y/N,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, “how could you?” Y/N played her part perfectly, clinging to Philip as if Baldwin were the villain in the room. She whispered, her voice trembling. “I never wanted this life, Baldwin. You forced me into it!” Philip stepped forward, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Your Majesty, why would I doubt her? She’s shown me nothing but courage and truth. Besides...” Philip’s tone turned mocking as he looked Baldwin up and down. “Why would any woman willingly share a bed with you? It’s laughable.”

Baldwin clenched his fists, his rage bubbling over as Philip continued, his words like venom. “Do you know how I know she’s telling the truth? Because she was untouched when she came to me. I laid with, surely someone so tight should be a virgin" "A true maiden. She has endured so much to preserve her dignity bravely resisting the advances of a leper king who craves what he’ll never have.” Philip’s words dripped with contempt, each one a dagger to Baldwin’s pride. Baldwin’s jaw clenched, his entire body trembling as he stared at Y/N, who now smirked openly at him, her act of innocence long abandoned. “You will regret this,” Baldwin said through gritted teeth, his voice low and seething with barely contained fury. His hands twitched as though yearning to reach for his sword, but he restrained himself. “Both of you will regret this treachery.”

Philip, as though dealing with an insignificant nuisance, eyed Baldwin with a dismissive smirk. “Oh, and what will you do, Your Majesty?” His voice oozed condescension. “Let’s be real here, Baldwin. A leper like you can’t do anything. Jerusalem isn’t worth fighting for under a king like you, and deep down, you know that.” Baldwin’s breath caught in his throat, his pride burning with humiliation. “You can’t even control your own wife. If word gets out, you’ll become a laughingstock among your people. You’ll lose any respect you’ve managed to retain.” That’s why you can’t go running to your council or your people about this little... issue. If word gets out that you can’t even control your own wife, you’ll be the laughingstock of the kingdom.” Baldwin’s fists clenched at his sides as Philip continued, the man’s words like poison seeping into his veins. “You’ll lose what little respect you’ve managed to scrape together. Think about that Baldwin, your people already whisper behind your back. Do you really want to hand them more ammunition?” Humiliation burned in Baldwin’s chest, his pride crushed under the weight of Philip’s mockery. He could feel the heat of unshed tears sting his eyes, but when the first tear fell, it was like a dam breaking. A choked sob escaped him, and he quickly wiped at his face, his shoulders trembling. For a brief moment, Y/N’s smirk faltered. Watching Baldwin’s miserable state stirred something deep within her pity, perhaps, or maybe guilt. But she quickly composed herself, straightening her posture as if his pain were irrelevant. Baldwin saw it, and in some twisted way, it gave him a sense of satisfaction. She was guilty. He could see it in the brief lapse of her mask. She knew the damage she had caused, and that realization settled into him, cold but fulfilling.

Baldwin inhaled shakily, forcing himself to stand tall despite the overwhelming wave of emotions threatening to drown him. “Very well,” he said finally, his voice hoarse and heavy with defeat. “I won’t say a word to anyone. In return, I ask one thing of you to keep your affections hidden in public, for all of our sakes.” Philip sighed as though the request were an unnecessary inconvenience. “Don’t worry, Your Majesty. We’re quite careful with appearances.” He muttered something under his breath about wasted time, then turned to Y/N, his expression softening. “Forgive me, my love,” he said apologetically, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

He retrieved his shirt from the floor, slipping it on with casual ease, and left the room without so much as a backward glance. Baldwin glared at female reader his face full of anger and disappointment towards Y/N. She curtsied low, her voice soft as she addressed him. “Your Grace.” She remained composed, but he could see the flicker of something deeper in her eyes. Was it guilt? Was it regret? For a brief moment, Baldwin felt satisfaction. He wasn’t the only one in torment.

But her attempt at decorum did nothing to soothe him. His heart was too raw, his anger and disappointment boiling over. He glared at her, saying nothing as he turned on his heel and walked out, shutting the door behind him with a resolute click. The hallway felt colder as Baldwin strode through it, his thoughts a whirlwind of pain and confusion. Yet, despite everything, he couldn’t help but glance back at her door, hoping and even praying that she might run after him, begging for forgiveness, for another chance. But the door remained closed. His chest tightened as he realized the truth: she wouldn’t come. She wouldn’t chase after him, wouldn’t even try to repair the shattered remains of their relationship. His footsteps faltered, and he leaned heavily against the cold stone wall, his breath hitching as fresh tears spilled down his cheeks.' Y/N,' .'Why would you do this? Why break us beyond repair?' he questioned himself in his thoughts. Memories of their happier times before and during their marriage flooded his mind. Her laughter, the way she used to smile at him, the warmth of her touch. Things she did for him out of love. He swallowed hard, the ache in his chest growing unbearable. His thoughts drifted to their conversations about annulment, and his heart cracked even further. 'You did this out of vengeance, didn’t you?'. 'I told you, Y/N... I told you I’d come for you, that I’d fight for you. Why didn’t you wait for me?' He thought as he felt tears streamed down his face, his vision blurring as he pressed a hand against a stone wall, trying to steady the pain that felt as though it might consume him. 'Why does my heart still ache for your arms despite your betrayal?' 'Why does it still love you after everything you’ve done?' Baldwin thought as he sniffled, his nose red from the cold and his crying. He wiped at his face but couldn’t stop the tears. He felt like a man drowning, the weight of his emotions dragging him under with no hope of relief. 'Y/N,' he thought again, her name like a prayer on his heart. 'Why does my heart still beat for you, even now?' “Why does it still love you... even now?” Baldwin couldn’t control the sob that broke through his chest, nor the way his body shook from the weight of his heartbreak. The world around him felt hollow, a place where nothing could fill the ache that stretched deep into his soul. He had loved her, trusted her, and now she had shattered him in ways he could never repair. The love he had for her, the love that still burned in his chest, despite the lies, the betrayal, and the cruelty was both his greatest agony and his deepest torment. Baldwin stood there, alone, broken, and lost, unable to find solace in anything, not even the memory of her. As Baldwin walked down the hall, his heart weighed heavy with conflicting emotions. He could still feel her presence in his mind, and as much as he was angry betrayed even there was something else: a sharp, bitter satisfaction. He had seen her guilt, fleeting though it was, and in that moment, Baldwin felt vindicated. She was not as untouched as she tried to appear.

Historical Baldwin IV in bed

Warning: Bullying, false allegations, physical assault,curse words mentioned

I sighed deeply, scrolling through my social media feed with my AirPods in, already dreading this field trip. My university had chosen Jerusalem for its historical significance, but I knew it wouldn’t end well because of my three tormentors. Maisy, a popular social media influencer, and her accomplices, Elba and Imogen.“Hey, (Y/N),” a voice called, sharp and mocking. My stomach sank as I turned to see them standing nearby, smirking. Maisy, never missing an opportunity to torment me, snatched my AirPods without hesitation.

“Hey! Give them back!” I yelled, desperately reaching for them.

Maisy smiled maliciously. “It’s not like you need these anyway. I forgot mine, but I remembered that someone as pathetic as you would surely have brought theirs.” Tears stung my eyes. “Please, just give them back,” I pleaded, stepping closer, but Elba shoved me hard, sending me tumbling to the ground. “Oops! Sorry, (Y/N),” Elba said mockingly. “Didn’t realize it was you". "You look so ugly that I mistook you for a troll doll!” They burst into laughter, pointing at me. “Who knew she could manage to look even worse? My grandma has better skin and fashion sense than her!” Imogen chimed in. In a surge of frustration and adrenaline, I snapped back, “At least I’m not bald like her!” Their laughter stopped abruptly, and their eyes narrowed in anger. It wasn’t like me to fight back, and my retort clearly stung. “You little b**ch!” Maisy snarled. Elba and Imogen wasted no time kicking and stomping me. Imogen’s boot crushed my foot ruthlessly as she hissed, “How dare you?” Maisy, holding my AirPods, slapped me across the face, sending me sprawling. “Looks like we’ve been too soft on you,” she sneered, her pride wounded. Elba and Imogen nodded in agreement. With a vindictive glare, Maisy threw my AirPods to the ground, stomping on them as hard as she could. “Let’s go, girls. Her ‘precious’ AirPods are probably as broken as she is now.” They walked away laughing, leaving me on the ground, tears streaming down my face. I picked up my AirPods, fearing the worst, but to my relief, they were undamaged. Still, the humiliation lingered as I cried, wondering why this kept happening to me. What had I done to deserve this?

My phone buzzed in my pocket, jolting me from my despair. It was my professor calling, but I ignored it. I was too devastated to talk to anyone, let alone explain myself. Eventually, the buzzing stopped, and after some time, I managed to compose myself and rejoin my classmates. When I returned, it was clear something had happened. My classmates looked at me with irritation and disdain. Maisy, Elba, and Imogen stood with exaggeratedly hurt expressions, while my professor regarded me with disappointment.

“(Y/N), what’s this I’m hearing?” my professor demanded. “Did you really insult Maisy when she kindly asked to borrow your AirPods? And did you call Elba’s grandmother bald?” I stood there, stunned, unable to believe what I was hearing. My classmates whispered among themselves, their judgmental stares cutting into me. “Maisy snatched my AirPods,” I began, my voice trembling. “She said they were hers now. Elba shoved me and insulted me first. They slapped me and kicked me!” I pointed to the bruises on my arms and legs, desperate for someone to believe me but my professor wasn’t interested. She sighed dismissively. “You’ve admitted to speaking poorly of Elba’s grandmother, (Y/N). Given the importance of tomorrow’s project, it’s best you stay at the hotel. You’re too emotional, and we need everyone focused on making a good impression for our university.”

Tears welled in my eyes as I realized there was no use arguing. My professor always sided with my bullies, no matter the situation. If I protested further, I’d risk being removed from the project entirely. As everyone filed out, Maisy, Elba, and Imogen lingered behind. They smirked, taunting me with whispered jabs. “Looks like we put you back in your place,” Maisy sneered, delighted by my tears. They left me sobbing in silence, reveling in their victory.

The next day, I bought a ticket to visit the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Wanting to feel special for the occasion, I chose to wear a vintage gown, hoping to fit into the solemn and historic atmosphere of the church. As I wandered inside, I admired the intricate beauty surrounding me. The grandeur of the architecture, the scent of incense lingering in the air, and the serene whispers of prayers.

Lost in the church's splendor, I stumbled upon a peculiar passage tucked away in one corner. Peering into it, I realized the passage was empty and seemingly unnoticed by others. I glanced around, but no one seemed interested in exploring it. Out of curiosity, I checked for any signs prohibiting entry but found none. Excited and intrigued, I decided to venture inside. The passage was narrow and quiet, and as I walked, I wondered where it would lead. To my surprise, I emerged on the other side of the church. A place I hadn’t even known existed. The scene before me was astonishing. It was as though I had stepped back in time. People dressed in elaborate medieval gowns moved about, some appearing wealthy, while others were priests engaged in serious discussions. Knights clad in armor sat at tables, eating and chatting. Everything was vibrant, alive, and breathtakingly beautiful. My awe quickly turned into self-consciousness when I noticed people staring at me. They pointed at my dress and, more often, at my uncovered hair. My vintage gown was nothing like the styles of the Middle Ages, but I realized their real discomfort came from my bare head. Feeling embarrassed, I quickly took my shawl and draped it over my head, covering my hair. The whispering subsided somewhat, though I could still feel lingering glances. Suddenly, I heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Turning in the direction of the noise, I saw a man dressed in white robes and bandages. His face was partially hidden, but his sharp, striking blue eyes were unmissable. Though much of his face appeared scarred, his gaze held authority. He addressed me sternly in French, his voice sharp and commanding. I pointed to myself in confusion, unable to understand him. Frustrated, the man sighed, rubbing his forehead and muttering something to himself. In an attempt to communicate, I responded in Latin, explaining that I didn’t understand French. To my surprise, the man’s demeanor softened. He was impressed and astonished that I could speak Latin, remarking that very few people knew the language. He explained that my presence had unsettled the others because of my unfamiliar attire and because they didn’t recognize me. He himself was certain he had never seen me before. Believing I was a commoner who had sneaked into the Christmas Eve gathering, he had approached me, intending to reprimand me and send me away. "You seem to be a newly arrived noblewoman to the Holy Kingdom of Jerusalem," he remarked, "for only a select few know Latin." His curiosity was piqued, and he began asking me questions. I answered as best as I could, though I struggled to keep up. Eventually, he asked, "You look wounded. Did someone in my kingdom say something to you?" The question caught me off guard, and I felt tears welling in my eyes again. I forced a nervous smile, but my voice trembled as I replied, "Yes, I am wounded both mentally and physically. Some people enjoy picking on me, making me feel miserable whenever they please. Others follow their lead and hurt me too." My voice broke as I choked on my tears. "It’s like I’ve become a punching bag for everyone."

The man fell silent, his expression unreadable as he studied me. "Surely someone as healthy and beautiful as you shouldn’t be going through this," he said softly. I scoffed bitterly. "Oh, you have no idea." His lips twitched in annoyance. "I’m not accustomed to being spoken to so informally," he said, his tone sharp. "You seem like a spoiled noblewoman." I stared at him, tears streaming down my face. "You’re just like them, aren’t you?" I whispered, my voice cracking. The man’s expression changed, his annoyance giving way to thoughtfulness. After a moment, he said, "You don’t speak to the King of the Holy Kingdom of Jerusalem in such a manner." His voice carried a mixture of irritation and amusement. My eyes widened in shock. "The king?" I stammered, unsure if I had heard him correctly. He laughed heartily. "You truly don’t know the infamous leper king who will bring a curse upon the Kingdom of Jerusalem," he said. "You really are an odd noblewoman." His words left me bewildered. Analyzing the situation, I concluded he must be cosplaying as King Baldwin IV of Jerusalem from the movie Kingdom of Heaven. I had seen people dressed as him on social media. Deciding to play along, I curtsied and spoke formally. "Forgive me, Your Highness, for showing such disrespect. Please accept my sincerest apologies." The man nodded, accepting my gesture. "None taken," he said. "From the moment we met, I could tell you didn’t recognize me, though I hoped I was wrong." I straightened myself as he resumed his questions. "You say you are wounded. Why do people bother you?" I replied sadly, "I don’t know. I think it’s because of my shy nature. I have a tough time mixing with others, and it’s hard for me to say 'no.' Perhaps that’s why I’m an easy target." Baldwin listened attentively, then shared his own experience. "I remember when I was young and healthy like you. My friends mocked me for my embarrassing stutter, which I inherited from my father. I used my status as a prince to threaten them, but it was in vain. "I was the smartest among my friends, but they dismissed my abilities, claiming my tutors went easy on me because I was the king’s son. Their words hurt, and I started questioning my own capabilities."

I was impressed by how dedicated this man was to cosplaying the king, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that his pain was genuine. I nodded for him to continue. Baldwin began, his voice laced with melancholy, “It hurt so much to have them question me and mock me, but I couldn’t even share this pain with anyone. My father was often busy, and my stepmother didn’t like me. As the legitimate heir, I always came before her own children, and that bred resentment. My mother had remarried shortly after her separation, just to survive, while my sister was raised by our aunt Ioveta in the Abbess of Bethany.”His gaze grew distant as he spoke. "Even if I had someone to confide in, I doubt I would have dared. As a man and a future king, showing emotions was seen as unbecoming. I had to suppress my feelings because men shouldn’t be vulnerable. This silence only encouraged my tormentors. They thrived on my withdrawal, enjoying the torment they inflicted upon me. They even went as far as to mock me, claiming I was an illegitimate child. They would threaten that, once they gained power, they would strip me of my title and rally others against me."I gasped, shocked at the cruelty of children. Covering my mouth, I murmured, "Who knew children could be so heartless?" Baldwin offered a sad smile. "Oh, you have no idea."I interjected, "Surely your tutors noticed what was happening and stepped in to help?" Baldwin’s smile faded into a resigned expression. "Just as in your case, my tutors chose to ignore the situation. I couldn’t even approach them for fear they would label me weak and emotional. I was the future king weakness was unacceptable. I had to bear it all in silence." His words triggered a sense of déjà vu within me, reminding me of the times my concerns had been dismissed as emotional outbursts. I tentatively asked, "Did things get better over time?" Baldwin’s face grew darker. "No," he replied. "It was only the beginning of my torment. One day, my friends and I were playing a game that involved pinching each other. Naturally, they all targeted me. I bore the pain with great patience, feeling proud of my endurance. But my joy was short-lived. My tutor, William of Tyre, called me over to inspect my wounds, and soon after, I was placed in isolation. Physicians were summoned, bloodletting was performed, and ointments were applied. It was clear something serious had occurred."His voice grew heavier with emotion. "Then came the dreadful news, I was cursed. A leper. I was devastated, consumed by thoughts of ‘Why me? Why had God forsaken me?’ I questioned what I had done to deserve such a fate. My father had been hesitant to diagnose me early, fearing I would be sent to Saint Lazarus to train as a knight among other lepers. But once the truth was undeniable, he began to look toward my elder sister, her husband, and their potential heirs to secure the kingdom’s future. I couldn’t help but wonder if he, too, would abandon me."Trying to console him, I said softly, "He was a king with a kingdom to protect. I’m sure he loved you." Baldwin exhaled deeply, nodding slightly. "I believe he did."I hesitated before asking, "What did you do then?" Baldwin’s lips curved into a faint smile. "At first, I admit, I succumbed to despair. Just as you feel now, I, too, wondered what I had done to deserve such suffering. I had lost my family, endured torment from my friends, and now this disease. But eventually, I grew tired of being mistreated. I resolved to fight back, to prove that I was capable of ruling and deserving of my throne. I prayed to God for a chance, promising to become an able and just king if given the opportunity.

"So, I began studying and practicing relentlessly. This time, I refused to submit to my fate. If I was going to die, I wanted my life to have meaning. What worth would my existence have if I continued to surrender to torment? I came to believe that my suffering was the price of my submission, that God deemed me unfit to rule because I lacked the courage to stand up for myself. In the end, I realized I had no one to blame but myself. If you don’t fight back, your situation will only worsen."He paused, gesturing toward his disfigured face. "Just like mine."I remembered Maisy, a popular influencer with a substantial social media following, who had already turned my life into a living hell. Through her false accusations, she ensured I felt unwelcome wherever I went. Maisy would hit and insult me, then twist the narrative, claiming that I was the one who had harmed her. Her friends, Elba and Imogen, were no better. They would gang up with her, acting as "eyewitnesses" to corroborate her lies. Maisy frequently threatened me, saying that no one would ever believe my side of the story. She warned that if I dared to complain, she would smear me with false allegations on social media, destroying my reputation, education, and future career. Considering that my classmates already believed her lies and my professors often sided with them, I felt hopeless. I believed Maisy's threats and chose to endure the torment in silence. Not wanting to give up entirely, I asked Baldwin hesitantly, "What if I lose everything in the process? What if fighting back costs me the things I love and leaves me financially ruined?" Baldwin responded immediately, his tone firm. "Then you choose to worsen your situation. Do you truly believe this will all end when you leave this place? There are kind people in the world, yes, but there are also selfish and cruel ones. Once they recognize you as a target, they will treat you the same. How long and how far can you keep running?" I paused, his words sinking in, and fell into deep thought. Baldwin continued, "The choice is yours, of course. Either die a little every day or stand up and fight, even if it means risking everything once and for all and die once and for all as well instead of dying everyday little by little. I can’t claim to know exactly what you’re going through, but the decision on how to move forward is ultimately yours." After a moment of deep contemplation, I finally spoke, determination in my voice. "I will fight, of course."

Baldwin beamed at my response, his expression proud. "Good, my rude noblewoman." My cheeks flushed in embarrassment as I realized I had spoken informally to him during our entire conversation. I moved to bow in apology, but Baldwin stopped me, laughing wholeheartedly. "It’s fine," he said. "I can tell you don’t mean to be disrespectful. Besides, it’s been such a long time since I’ve had a heartfelt conversation like this with someone. I truly enjoyed it." I smiled and nodded, replying respectfully, "I agree, Your Majesty." One side of Baldwin’s mouth curled into a smile. "So, it’s ‘Your Majesty’ now?" he teased. I laughed lightly. "Yes, it seems like it." Baldwin reached for his necklace and held it out to me. "Please, wear this," he said. I was astonished, knowing how expensive such a gift must be. "Your Majesty, are you sure?" I asked hesitantly. Baldwin’s cheeks turned a faint shade of pink as he insisted, "I insist. I think you would look beautiful in this necklace." I swore I saw his eyes shining with joy as his cheeks turned an even darker shade of pink. *Does he have a crush on me?* I wondered silently. Smiling, I accepted the necklace. As our hands lightly brushed, Baldwin seemed to grow even more nervous. "Uh, I’m sorry about taking up your time," he stammered. For the first time in a while, I smiled with genuine joy, and Baldwin seemed pleased as well. "Don’t be sad," he mumbled. "I hope to see you again soon. Surely, God had His reasons for allowing us to meet." I chuckled softly and replied, "I believe so, too." As I turned to leave, Baldwin called out to me desperately, "When can we meet again? Surely there must be a place where we can see each other once more!" I paused, uncertain, before answering, "I don’t know. But I have a feeling we’ll meet again." Turning back to him, I added warmly, "Merry Christmas, Your Majesty." Baldwin smiled, his expression tender. "Merry Christmas, (Y/N)."

I woke up alone, lying on the cold floor of the church. Everyone had already left, and the darkness had settled in. *I must have fallen asleep,* I thought, but as I moved, I felt something metallic in my hand. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was a necklace, the very same one King Baldwin IV of Jerusalem had given me. *Was it all just a dream, or did everything actually happen?* I wondered. I clutched the necklace, feeling a wave of emotion and newfound determination. Without hesitation, I placed the necklace around my neck. *I will fight back. I swear it. I won't let myself or you down.* Filled with resolve, I stood and left the church, the necklace now resting firmly around my neck.

Warning: Threesome, Blowjob, nipple play, thigh ridding, cock warming, breeding kink (slight), pregnancy talk (mentioned), bondage (slight)

"She is going to get stuffed with my cock". "No matter what her pussy won't leave my cock even for a moment" "You can have anything else but her pussy which is mine" Baldwin IV declared firmly by pulling me down on his lap and impaling me with his cock. I moaned in sudden stimulation. I looked down and saw our pubic hair tangled with his cock disappearing inside me. The sight strangely aroused me more. Saladin wasn't the one back down easily. He growled in his deep voice and said possessively "Only reason I am allowing this is because you are a leper and can't get her pregnant". Saladin voiced his frustration as he grabbed me by my hair and yanked me forward making me suck his cock. My eyes widened at his smell. His smell was different than Baldwin's none the less I enjoyed it. Without waiting for a moment. I started sucking him. Occasionally giving him kitten licks to tease him. Saladin moaned loudly and constantly by my actions and I could tell that I was being a better cock sucker unlike last time. Baldwin IV realised it too. He was furious at the thought of losing the woman he loved to his enemy. Baldwin feeling jealous grabbed my hips and lifted them up so that he could push himself back again. I gasped at the feeling of his cock thrusting inside me. Baldwin wasn't done with me yet. He kept thrusting inside me repeatedly again and again. He kept on going roughly inside me which I hadn't expected it from him. I arched in back pleasure causing my boobs being shoved at his faced. Normally I would have been embarassed but now I was beyond reasonings right now. Baldwin kept on going rougher by each thrust. I could feel my legs shivering in pleasure. I knew that I was close to my orgasm. I heard Baldwin exhale his moan and say "I can feel your pussy tightening ". "Let's come together, shall well we". I nodded in reply. We finally came together. However Baldwin wasn't done yet. He started moving again. I whimpered a bit in overstimulation but none of the men noticed since my mouth was stuffed with saladin's cock. My pussy throbbed in overstimulation but despite my pain I was enjoying it. Baldwin while thrusting his cock inside me in and out turned his towards my breast where he leaned forward and began playing with them. He rubbed and pinched my nipples between causing my back to arch in pleasure and pain. Baldwin soon moved his attention to my ass which he massaged with hands. Soon I could feel pleasure building inside me once again.

"I am close" he moaned

"Me too" replied saladin.

I widened my eyes realising that saladin cock swelled in pleasure and was about to blow his load inside my mouth. Both of them cummed inside me at the same time.

"Swallow" Commanded saladin. Baldwin eyes burned in jealousy and said "Y/N, don't".

"Do it now" saladin commanded again and I hesitantly swallowed. Suddenly I felt my shoulders wet. When I looked down I saw baldwin crying. Baldwin not wanting to give up said "We can't go on like this, how about we make a deal". Baldwin hesitated and then continued "I say that you.." he paused. Saladin was losing patience. Baldwin had no choice but to continue his words "You... take y/n in any position you want as long as I can have herself pussy" "If y/n gets pregnant she will stay with me, if not then she will go to you. Saladin raised his eyebrow and then burst out laughing "You think your leper body can impregnate her". Baldwin clenched his jaw and hugged me tighter "If god really wills it, he will grant me and y/n a child". Saladin amusedly said "Very well, I agree to these terms" "I shall entertain these delusions of yours" "You seem to have grown arrogant to make such demands where you obviously will be at heavy disadvantage". Baldwin said nothing but held me tighter

"Move" Saladin commanded. "I shall have her ass"

After one month:

A month had passed since that incident and my period didn't come. I suspected that I might be with a child and immediately informed Baldwin. Baldwin was ecstatic when he received the news. Baldwin however requested we show my condition to a physician. The physician immediately confirmed my suspicion. Baldwin was so overjoyed that he lifted me in his arms and moved me around the room in circles. He kissed my head thanking me for giving the best gift of his life and thanked God for showing favour. Baldwin immediately sent a letter to saladin talking about my pregnancy. Baldwin even offered that he could send his physician to check. However saladin declined saying since baldwin is a man of honour he believes him and gave his word to never approach me again. More months went by and my belly swelled in pregnancy. Baldwin gets aroused whenever he sees me but now with my pregnant body his sexual arousal has worsened. He would often handcuff me in his bed and have sex with me uncontrollably. Baldwin would often say despite it's been months since that 'incident' with saladin he still feels jealous about saladin being able to touch me. So he is doing his best to mark me as much as possible

Adiuva nos, Domine,

In tribulatione nostra.

Te clamamus, Sancte Deus,

Exaudi preces nostras

O Maria, Mater Gratiae,

Tu es refugium nostrum.

In tenebris et angustia,

Sustenta nos, o dulcis Virgo.

Sancte Michael, protector noster,

Defende nos in proelio.

Contra insidias diaboli,

Fidei nostrae fortitudo.

Gloria Patri et Filio,

Et Spiritui Sancto.

Sicut erat in principio,

Et nunc et semper.

Baldwin IV gripped his rosary with trembling hands, his knuckles white as he prayed fervently. He prayed for your safety. It had been days since you vanished, and he was drowning in helplessness. He couldn't launch a full investigation, not without risking exposure of the bond between you. The very thought of anyone discovering what you meant to him sent a cold shiver down his spine. Baldwin understood the dangers of being associated with him. Especially now, as a leper. His condition, his cursed existence, only amplified the peril for anyone close to him. He had kept you hidden. Your presence, your existence and shielded from the world, all to protect both of you. But now, the silence stretched on, and Baldwin could feel his sanity slipping. The thought of anything happening to you, of you being hurt or worse, twisted inside him like a sharp knife. Baldwin could feel his heartbeat beating so hard that it was painful. Baldwin never knew what fear was until he met you. The thought of you being injured or worse, Baldwin wouldn't know how to live.

"No," he whispered, trying to force away the dread that clawed at his insides. "You’re safe. You have to be safe."

Just as he finished his prayer and turned around, his eyes fell upon his mother, Agnes de Courtenay. She approached him with hesitant steps, her face drawn tight with worry. Baldwin didn’t need to see her expression to know it was bad news.

"Any word?" His voice was colder than he meant it to be, a harsh edge creeping into his words.

Agnes paused, her hands wringing together as she looked down. "No, my son," she stammered, her voice faltering. "I’m doing everything I can. I swear, I—"

"Everything you can?" Baldwin cut her off, his words sharp and cutting. His frustration was boiling over, the fear for you overwhelming everything else. "Your best isn’t enough, Mother. Not when her life is on the line!". His gaze was relentless, piercing through her with the weight of his anger. "I entrusted you with this. I trusted you to keep her safe, and now look where we are no answers, no progress". "How many days must pass before you start doing what you promised?" Agnes flinched, her eyes wide with the sting of his words, but Baldwin’s gaze didn’t soften. He was beyond patience. Baldwin IV continued with his voice that cut through the air like a blade. "So, it seems her presence was discovered after all," he said, his tone ice-cold. "Mother, you’ve failed utterly in keeping her hidden, just as I entrusted you to do. Is this truly the best you can manage?" He paused, his eyes narrowing, fury flickering in them. "Perhaps I was a fool to trust you at all. I should have given the task to my uncle, someone who might actually be competent. Clearly, you can't even manage something as simple as this." His words were like a slap, and the venom in his gaze made it clear he had no room for excuses.

Agnes flinched at the sharpness in her son’s tone. She had braced herself for his wrath, but the sheer intensity still struck a chord deep within her. Yet, she wasn’t going to retreat without a fight. Gathering her courage, she straightened and replied with calm defiance. “Of course,” she began, her voice firm despite the tension in the air, “a mere noblewoman like me is no match for the Dowager Queen, your stepmother, who has been quietly maneuvering to place your half-sister Isabella on the throne. Let us not forget that Isabella holds a claim through your father.” Baldwin’s brows furrowed, confusion momentarily softening the fury etched into his features. The sudden mention of Maria Komnene was unexpected. Agnes caught the subtle shift in his demeanor, recognizing the spark of intrigue. She pressed forward without hesitation. “I have evidence,” she continued, her voice steady and deliberate, “that a woman matching (Y/N)’s description was seen in Nablus. And where does your stepmother reside? Nablus. It’s no coincidence, Baldwin.” His eyes widened, a mix of shock and desperate hope flashing across his face. Without waiting for his mother to elaborate further, he barked out a command. “Prepare the horses! We’re leaving at once.” Agnes started, alarmed by his abrupt reaction. “Baldwin, wait! The evidence we have, it’s flimsy at best. It only hints at her presence, nothing certain—”

“I don’t care!” Baldwin cut her off, his voice trembling with emotion. “If there is even the slightest chance (Y/N) is there, I will go. No matter how faint the trail may be.” Determined to avoid unnecessary attention, Baldwin insisted on going alone, without knights or a retinue. Agnes, unwilling to let her son journey into potential danger alone, argued until he relented. Exhausted from the emotional storm, Baldwin agreed with little resistance. Both mother and son disguised themselves as common travelers, cloaked in simple garb with hoods obscuring their faces.

As they rode under the cover of blazing hot sun, Baldwin’s thoughts churned in turmoil. His stepmother, Maria Komnene, had always been ambitious, but would she truly act so brazenly? He scowled beneath his hood, considering the other players in the shadowy game of politics. Could Raymond of Tripoli, his calculating cousin, be involved? Or the Ibelin brothers, notorious for their scheming alliances? His instincts told him 'No, they wouldn’t dare'. That left only one man: Guy of Lusignan, his reckless and power-hungry brother-in-law. The very thought of Guy made Baldwin’s grip tighten on the reins, rage building in his chest.

Agnes, as if sensing her son’s thoughts, spoke softly. “Do not let your mind run wild, my son. This reeks of your stepmother’s hand. She has made alliances in the court, strengthening her position. Her marriage ties to the Ibelins have been... advantageous.”

Baldwin’s lips pressed into a thin line, his silence betraying the storm within.

As they neared their destination, something caught his attention. A familiar figure moving in the distance. Baldwin’s breath hitched. “Sibylla?” he muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief. His gaze snapped to his mother, who appeared just as stunned. Without a word, Baldwin motioned for silence, urging his horse to follow his sister at a safe distance. Agnes, still reeling, followed his lead.

Sibylla led them to a secluded area, where she dismounted and began speaking to a shadowy figure. Baldwin and Agnes dismounted as well, watching from a concealed position. “Make sure her body is disposed of in a way that it can’t be recognized,” Sibylla ordered, her voice cold and resolute. The man bowed slightly, replying grimly, “Of course, my lady. Anything else?”

Sibylla smiled, a cruel satisfied expression that sent a chill through Baldwin. “Oh no, you’ve done an absolutely fantastic job in killing (Y/N). My brother may mourn her now, but he will thank me later.”

Baldwin froze, the weight of her words crashing down on him like a tidal wave. For a moment, the world seemed to stop. His vision blurred with a mix of fury and devastation. Then, without hesitation, he unsheathed his sword and spurred his horse forward.

"SIBYLLA!" His voice thundered, raw with fury, reverberating like a war cry that sent chills down the spines of even the most hardened knights. Agnes barely had time to reach out before her son was charging toward his sister, the blade in his hand glinting like justice itself.

Baldwin IV’s horse reared back, its hooves striking the air as his roar echoed through the desolate clearing. His blue eyes, ablaze with rage, locked onto his sister’s frozen figure. She stood trembling, her schemes exposed, with no crowd to shield her from her brother's wrath . The man standing beside Sibylla, realizing it was the king himself bearing down upon them, stumbled backward, stammering incoherent apologies before bolting into the shadows. Sibylla was left alone, her fear-stricken body rooted to the ground. Baldwin’s horse halted mere feet away from her, nostrils flaring, its king equally volatile. “I should kill you where you stand!” he bellowed about to striker her with his sword. Sybilla although fearful of her brother's wrath somehow narrowly escaped the sword stumbling backwards in fear by sheer luck. "You scheming, treacherous fool!" he growled, his voice low and deadly as he urged his horse forward ready to strike her again. "You dared to betray me?" His tone was laced with a venom that made Sibylla’s knees weaken. She stumbled backward again, her face pale, eyes wide with dread. She had never seen her brother like this, his normally composed demeanor shattered by pure, unrestrained fury. As Baldwin surged toward her, his expression promising retribution, Agnes’s voice cut through the chaos, her horse galloping into the scene as she placed herself squarely between her son and daughter. Her arms spread wide in a protective gesture, shielding Sibylla from Baldwin’s wrath.

"Baldwin, stop!" Agnes implored, her voice trembling with urgency. "You cannot do this!" “Please, Baldwin, don’t do this!”. Agnes reasoned, her voice steady but her eyes betraying her fear. She had seen her son angry before, but never like this—never so unhinged, so consumed.

Baldwin’s horse came to an abrupt halt, its hooves digging into the dirt as he glared down at his mother. His blue eyes burned with fury as he snarled, “Get out of my way, Mother.” His voice was low, trembling with restrained anger. “She doesn’t deserve your protection" "Not after what she’s done. None of you do.”

Agnes held her ground, her voice firm but laced with desperation.“(Y/N) wouldn’t want this,” she pleaded, her eyes softening.

Her words acted as a spark to dry tinder, igniting an even fiercer blaze of rage in her son. His horse snorted and shifted as he practically snarled in response. "DON’T YOU DARE BRING HER INTO THIS!" Baldwin’s voice boomed, his rage untethered. "Do not use her name to shield your guilt! You all killed her!" He gestured wildly toward Sibylla, his accusations cutting like daggers. "You, with your selfish schemes! You destroyed the only person who ever made this wretched existence tolerable!" he snapped, his voice cracking as he gestured sharply toward Sibylla. “You all killed her!

Agnes desperate in fear mumbled "Please Baldwin, you can't do this" "Killing your sister will start a civil war" "Our kingdom won't receive donations to survive by our own cousins" . Baldwin in anger retorted "Do not speak to me of what I can and cannot do, Mother! Do you think I care for appearances anymore? Do you think I care for laws or blood ties when my very own family killed her?" His voice cracked as it reached a crescendo, raw grief mingling with his fury.

Agnes's lips parted as if to argue, but Baldwin’s voice thundered again, silencing her. "She was the light of my life, the only light in this accursed kingdom of shadows. And you snuffed it out!" Sibylla, trembling and unable to meet his gaze, muttered something unintelligible, but Baldwin would not hear it. "Speak not a word to me!" he hissed, his voice lowering to a dangerous growl as he pulled his horse closer. "I should end you for what you’ve done."

His horse shifted uneasily beneath him, mirroring its master’s fury. Agnes held her ground, her hand gripping her saddle tightly to steady herself. “Baldwin, please!” she implored, her voice softer now, pleading. “Your anger won’t bring her back!” “No!” Baldwin’s shout tore through the night, his face contorting in agony. “But it will ensure justice is served! I will not let her memory be trampled on by the people who betrayed her.” Sibylla whimpered behind Agnes, tears streaming down her pale face, her voice barely audible as she tried to speak. But Baldwin ignored her, his gaze fixed on his mother as if daring her to move. “Step aside, Mother,” he warned, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone. “Or I swear, I’ll ride through you.”

Agnes moved her horse with determination, shielding Sibylla fully. "You are King, Baldwin. Do not let your grief destroy what she loved in you." "Your sense of duty. I am asking you, for the sake of the kingdom, to control yourself' "You know right how stability is fragile because of complex court politics right now". Agnes knew Baldwin just like her late husband Almaric was man of duty. Luckily for Agnes her trick worked and Baldwin took long labored breath to calm down Baldwin’s chest heaved as he sucked in a long, ragged breath, his fingers trembling on the hilt of his sword. His smoldering eyes burned with suppressed fury, unshed tears glistening under the hood of his cloak. Agnes knew, as much as Baldwin hated to show weakness, had his leprosy not robbed him of tears, they would be falling freely now.

Once assured that Baldwin was reigning in his rage, Agnes turned her attention to Sibylla, her face hard with disgust. “Why did you do this to (Y/N)?” she demanded, her voice like ice.

Sibylla, though visibly shaken at first, straightened her posture. She squared her shoulders, her voice gaining strength as she spoke. “I acted for the good of the kingdom,” she declared, her tone resolute. “You yourself have said how precarious the court’s balance is, especially after Father’s second marriage. (Y/N) was a poison to this realm, indulging herself with my leprous brother and leading us all to sin.” Baldwin’s fists clenched tighter at her words, his jaw set in a way that made it clear he was barely containing his rage. His voice, low and dangerous, cut through the air. “(Y/N) had no interest in court politics,” he growled, his tone trembling with anger. Agnes added swiftly, her voice icy, “Whatever schemes you think she wove, they existed only in your mind, Sibylla.” Sibylla scoffed, her confidence growing as she met her mother’s glare. “That’s what she wanted you all to believe,” she replied, a sneer curling her lips. “That whore seduced my sinful brother, wrapping him around her finger. She made herself indispensable to him, and in doing so, she threatened the delicate peace we’ve tried so hard to maintain. So, I acted.” Her voice hardened, her gaze unrepentant. “I drowned her.” Agnes gasped, her revulsion barely concealed, while Baldwin’s body tensed like a coiled spring, his fury on the verge of erupting. “Sibylla,” he warned, his voice deadly calm, “choose your next words carefully, or I will claw the very tongue from your mouth.” Agnes, sensing the explosion brewing within her son, leaned forward and hissed in a low voice to Sibylla, ensuring Baldwin couldn’t hear. “Where did you get this vile notion? Who planted these ideas in your head?” For a brief moment, Sibylla faltered, her expression shifting into something unsettling. A lovestruck reverie. Her voice softened as she whispered, “My husband told me. Guy explained everything. He opened my eyes to her true nature.”. Agnes froze, but Baldwin let out a groan of exasperation, the sound a mix of fury and dismay. He had heard enough to piece together the whispered exchange. His eyes blazed as he locked his gaze on Sibylla. The crackling silence between them spoke volumes, Baldwin’s composure hanging by a thread as he stared down the sister who had shattered his world.

“Show us her body,” Agnes commanded, her voice sharp and leaving no room for argument. To her relief, Sibylla gave no protest, silently turning to lead them toward an abandoned house. The acrid stench of death grew stronger with every step, guiding them like a trail. Baldwin dismounted his horse in silence, his face an unreadable mask. Inside the house, the smell became suffocating. It led them to a small room where (Y/N)’s body lay on a rickety bed, her lifeless form bathed in the dim light filtering through the cracks in the walls. Though the odor was strong, the appearance of her body was hauntingly serene, as if death had only just brushed her. Baldwin froze in the doorway, staring at her still form as if unable to comprehend what he was seeing. “(Y/N),” he whispered, his voice trembling. Slowly, he stepped forward, each movement heavy with disbelief and agony, until he reached the bedside. He sank to his knees, his trembling hands hovering over her face before cradling her lifeless body in his arms. His breath hitched as he took in her features the faint curve of her lips, the delicate eyelashes resting against her cheeks. “Look at you,” he murmured, his voice breaking. “So beautiful. You don’t look dead... only asleep.” His hand caressed her cold cheek, his touch desperate, as if his warmth alone could bring her back. “Oh, (Y/N),” Baldwin whispered, his eyes stung with unshed tears, his chest heaving with suppressed sobs. “Please... wake up. You promised me,” he pleaded, his voice raw and thick with despair. “You swore you wouldn’t leave me, not as long as I lived. You lied to me, my love... you lied...” He clutched her closer, his shoulders shaking as the grief consumed him. “You were my light... my only light in this wretched world,” he choked out, his voice cracking under the weight of his sorrow. “How am I to go on without you? How am I to face the darkness without you beside me?” Wailed by his diseased dry eyes . He kissed her hair dampening by his lips. He pressed his lips to her temple, his trembling breath ghosting over her still form. Agnes stood nearby, her own heart heavy as she witnessed her son’s anguish. She had seen Baldwin face countless battles, seen him stand tall against unimaginable pain, but this, this broken man before her, was a sight she could barely bear. His grief was raw, unfiltered, and so profound it filled the room with its weight. Baldwin rocked (Y/N)’s body gently, his words becoming incoherent as sobs wracked his body. His fingers brushed through her hair as though soothing her to sleep. “Please... just one more moment,” he begged the heavens, his voice barely audible. “Let me hold her... let me hear her laugh again... her voice, her heartbeat...”His cries pierced the air, echoing through the empty house, a king brought to his knees by the unbearable loss of the woman who had been his everything. And as Baldwin cradled her lifeless form, it was as though his own heart had stopped beating alongside hers.

Sibylla watched her brother’s grief with an almost placating smile. "It’s okay, brother," she said softly, though her tone carried a trace of condescension. "Let out your grief. This sacrifice was necessary for the betterment of the kingdom." Baldwin’s trembling stopped abruptly as her words reached him. His reddened face lifted to meet her gaze, his expression hollow yet sharp, like a blade dulled by too much use but still capable of cutting. "Who else worked with you?" His voice, though low, carried the unmistakable edge of restrained fury. Sibylla straightened, confidence flickering in her anger as she retorted, "Me. I acted alone." Baldwin’s gaze didn’t waver. "So Mother didn’t know about this," he said, his words heavy with accusation. His tone made even Agnes flinch at the mention of her involvement. "No," Sibylla answered firmly. "Mother didn’t know about this." For a moment, Baldwin seemed to freeze. His grief contorted into something darker, something terrifying. His face, already ravaged by disease and despair, now carried an expression of such cold rage that even Sibylla, emboldened as she was, felt her confidence falter. When he spoke again, his voice was chilling, devoid of any humanity. "You’re going to feel what you’ve done to me. The same pain, the same torment" "You will suffer just as you made me suffer. I will make sure of it." Sibylla’s eyes narrowed, her anger surging forth like a storm. "You dare call me selfish?" she snapped. "You sit on that throne, clinging to your miserable life, bringing sin upon this kingdom by indulging in your lust for that woman! It’s you who’s selfish, Baldwin not me! You should step down and let my husband rule" "A man who is strong and capable, unlike you." Baldwin let out a bitter, humorless laugh that echoed in the small, decrepit room. "Capable? Your husband?" He sneered, his lip curling with disdain. "A coward who hides behind you to make his moves? Don’t worry, dear sister. He’ll have his time to shine" "In the dungeon. I’ll ensure he becomes intimately acquainted with every torture device we own before I execute him." Sibylla gasped, her fury boiling over. She raised a hand to strike him, but Agnes, weary of the madness around her, stepped forward and caught her wrist, shielding Baldwin with her body. "Enough!" Agnes’s voice carried the weight of her authority, silencing the escalating storm. Turning to her son, she placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, her expression softening. "Baldwin," she said gently, "this... this isn’t what (Y/N) would have wanted. Let us focus on her, not on revenge." Her voice cracked slightly as she continued, "We should give her a proper burial. She deserves that, if nothing else." Baldwin’s breathing slowed, his shoulders sagging under the weight of her words. His rage momentarily abated, overtaken by his grief as he looked down at (Y/N)’s body once more. "A burial," he whispered, nodding slowly, his focus entirely on the woman he loved. "Yes. She deserves that." Sibylla scoffed loudly but said nothing else, her lips pressed into a tight line. The tension in the room simmered, unspoken words and unresolved hatred hanging heavy in the air as Baldwin’s attention remained solely on (Y/N), his sorrow drowning out all else.

All three rode in solemn silence, Baldwin insisting on carrying (Y/N)’s lifeless body on his horse. No one dared argue. As they traveled back, Agnes swore she could hear Baldwin murmuring soft, sweet words to (Y/N), as if she could still hear him. She had always admired her son’s resilience and the strength of his mind, his determination to lead even as his body battled the ravages of disease. But now, watching him, Agnes feared that (Y/N)’s death might shatter him entirely, driving him into the depths of madness. They arrived at a small, secluded church under the protection of Agnes’s allies. Baldwin dismounted, his movements stiff but deliberate, and cradled (Y/N)’s body in his arms as he entered the hallowed ground. His hollow, vacant eyes met those of Patriarch Heraclius, who quickly approached with an air of confusion. Baldwin addressed the archbishop in a voice devoid of life, yet carrying the weight of an unbreakable command. "Take her body," he said, his words measured and heavy. "Ensure she is given a proper burial. On her grave, inscribe the words: ‘Light of the world for the leper.’" Heraclius froze in stunned realization, his gaze falling to the woman in Baldwin’s arms realizing that she was the lover of the leper king . Before Heraclius could respond, Agnes quickly stepped forward, leaning in to whisper firmly, "Keep her presence here a secret. Let no one know." Her voice was quiet but sharp, leaving no room for argument. Heraclius nodded, too shocked to protest, and turned to oversee the arrangements as Baldwin reluctantly placed (Y/N) down for the last time. Once outside, Agnes found her son standing near the churchyard, staring blankly into the distance as if searching for something beyond the horizon. His voice broke the silence, low and filled with a crushing sorrow. "As much as I speak of revenge, I know it is impossible. My actions would destroy the kingdom." He paused, the grief in his tone cutting through Agnes like a blade. "I couldn’t protect her in life, and now I’ve failed her in death. But I will protect the kingdom she loved. At least... when I meet her again, I can tell her I wasn’t a complete failure." Agnes reached out and rested her hand gently on his shoulder, her voice soft but resolute. "The fault lies with me as well. We both failed her, my son. But for your sake and hers, I swear to you—I will ensure that Sibylla and her husband never sit on the throne. Her son, your nephew, will rule instead. I will see to it." For the first time since (Y/N)’s death, a faint glimmer of relief flickered in Baldwin’s eyes. He turned to his mother, his voice regaining a trace of its usual sharpness. "Yes, you are right. This kingdom must not be ruled by (Y/N)’s murderer." His expression hardened. "I entrust you with this, Mother. Convince the Haute Cour. Do not fail me as you did before."