lost in fantasy

“Love at first sight" felt too cliché to describe it, but too brief to capture the reality. He visited your colony often, always finding some excuse to return while disguising just how much of his interest had to do with you. Though wisdom (and noisy neighbours) warned you to guard your heart, affection offered no choice, and you fell for him anyway.

And now, somehow, you were married to him, living in the palace you had once only ever seen from the other side of a crowd, trying to learn how to belong to a world you had never expected to enter. 

“Do you think they'll actually listen to me?” 

You'd been sitting across from Zuko for the better part of breakfast, barely touching your food because you kept returning to the same subject: your first council on your own.

Zuko looked up from his tea. “You're the Fire Lady.”

“I know, but that's not what I mean,” you said, leaning over the table. “I’ve been reading through the old petitions you gave me, and I think I understand most of them, but—”

“You've been reading those since yesterday?”

“No, of course not,” you said dismissively, pressing the edge of your fork into a piece of watermelon. “Since the day before yesterday. And if I forget something, I'll just remember the Triple T.” 

He raised an eyebrow, lifting his cup halfway to his lips. “Triple T?” 

“Titles, tea, treaties,” you said, tapping your index finger against your thumb. “Titles, because apparently everyone has three of them and I'm expected to remember which one goes with whom.” You moved to your second finger. “Tea, because I like it and it keeps me grounded, so it's my reminder to stay calm. And treaties, because that's the whole point. Listen, ask questions, don't agree to anything I haven't fully grasped… et cetera.” 

He set his cup down with a smile at the corner of his mouth.

“I like it. And I’m pretty sure they’ll listen,” Zuko said. “Not just because your own title, but because you actually care enough to read until dawn.” He reached across the table, sliding his hand over yours. “They'd be fools not to hear you out.”

“Thank you for the encouragement.”

He shook his head. “You don't need it, you're fine on your own. Besides, you seem excited.”

“Because I am! I get to do something today, you know?” You gestured vaguely with your fork. “This is the first time they're going to ask me what I think. I can actually make decisions about serious matters and not just… what type of flowers I want in the east garden.”

He let out a laugh. “You did a pretty good job, though. The white lilies remind me of my mother,” he said, idly plucking a piece of fruit straight from your plate.

You took a sip of your tea. “Have you heard from her lately?”

He nodded. “In her last letter, she mentioned she was doing well. She’s enjoying being away from the capital for a change, and apparently Kiyi and Azula are getting along. Which… I'm happy about, but also… a little worried.”

You smiled. “That really is terrific news- in multiple ways. I’d love to have her back at the palace, though. She’d be such a wonderful guide…”

Zuko’s thumb brushed over your knuckles.

“You're going to do well.”

“I hope so...”

“No.” He shook his head once. “You will.”

You leaned back across the small gap between your chairs and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”

Before you could pull away, his hand caught the back of your neck, drawing you back to slip his lips over yours. It was the same effortless reach and pull from the days right after your wedding, when both your schedules had been cleared, and closeness felt like a sweet, endless cycle neither of you wanted to break. You’d grown deeply fond of the touch of his hands and the heat of his mouth, even if those moments now had to be paused for the sake of the Fire Nation.

When you settled back into your seat, a movement caught your eye. The chamberlain was standing several paces away, hands folded inside his sleeves, patiently waiting.

You straightened. “Sorry.”

The man inclined his head. “Don’t worry, Your Majesty.” His eyes dropped to the scattered scrolls beside your plate. “Though if you are quite finished, we should review the order of today's council before the session begins.

You stood up, chewing one last piece of watermelon.

“Yes. Absolutely.”

Zuko’s hand caught yours one last time as you passed his chair. “You got this. Remember the Triple T...”

“Its so going to stick” You leaned down, squeezing his shoulder with a wide smile. “See you later, Fire Lord!”

His fingers brushed your knuckles before letting your hand go.

“See you later, Fire Lady…”

The chamberlain waited until the doors to the dining room shut behind you before falling into step at your side.

“I assume you have reviewed the petitions?”

“Twice!”

“Excellent. The first matter on the agenda concerns irrigation rights in the northern provinces. After that…”

You listened, nodding along with his cadence.

The palace corridors were already coming alive with servants and officials, every last one of them pressing themselves against the walls to bow as you passed. You were slowly getting used to the sudden clearing of pathways…. emphasis on slowly.

The chamberlain kept his chin raised, eyes fixed straight ahead as he walked.

“…The Fire Lord typically allows the ministers considerable latitude during the initial discussion. You would do well to observe how he manages the room.”

“I've watched him do it before.”

“Yes,” he countered. “But watching is entirely different from presiding.”

“Right.”

“Today's session is not a test, Your Majesty. However, you must know that the council will expect you to conduct yourself with authority.”

You nodded again, feeling the weight of the hair ornaments heavy against your neck. “And if I make a mistake?”

His steps never faltered. “Then you correct it and continue.”

“It almost sounds easy…”

He then turned his head to look at you. “Some things are.”

You weren't sure whether that was meant as reassurance or a bit of a warning, but before you could ask, the towering double doors at the end of the grand hallway came into view: the entrance to the throne room.

The chamberlain came to a stop beside you, adjusting his cuffs.

“Once the doors open, the attendants will announce you, you will take your place at the central dais, the council will bow when you enter and remain standing until you get to their petition. Shall we?”

You drew in one deep breath. 

“Let's.”

The doors swung open.

“Her Majesty, the Fire Lady.”

You stepped into the room, the council bowed in unison to the announcement.

You began the walk down the long aisle, the raised dais waiting at the far end beneath the towering throne.

You had stood up there before, usually beside Zuko, with his hand finding yours once the formalities were over, or with your shoulder brushing his as you listened to whatever matter had been brought before him that morning.

Today, however, the throne belonged to you. At his insistence, you were to occupy it.

You climbed the steps and stopped. The ceremonial platform stretched beneath the throne, its cushions arranged exactly as they always were. Zuko's place sat at the center.

You stared at it, hesitant.

The chamberlain, standing below, cleared his throat.

“Your Majesty…”

He made a small gesture toward the platform.

With what you hoped was considerably more confidence than you felt, you lowered yourself onto the cushion, arranging your robes beneath you as you'd seen Zuko do countless times before.

You crossed your legs, got comfortable, until you remembered the way he always crossed his legs. You tried again, hoping for the best.

The chamberlain finally turned toward the council.

“You may rise.”

“Good morning, everyone!” You followed.

A chorus of greetings answered you.

You looked down at the agenda laid before you. “Let us begin.”

Your first petition went as smoothly as you could have ever hoped. An attendant approached with a scroll, its red wax seal bearing the official emblem of one of the northern agricultural districts. The chamberlain accepted the parchment and offered a summary before stepping up to hand it to you.

The details laid out before you were stark: a poor harvest, severely reduced grain yields, and a formal request for temporary relief from the provincial levy. While the financial projections and bureaucratic columns were complicated, the human problem underneath was not.

Without waiting for the room to debate, you looked down at the petitioning governor and asked how much the districts had originally been expected to provide, how much grain they had actually managed to store, and whether the regional drought meant the shortfall would bleed into the following season.

The answers given only confirmed what your instincts had already told you… the levy figures had been set months before the crops failed.

“We reduce the current payment,” you proposed. “The province can make up the difference after the next harvest, provided the Ministry of Agriculture conducts a review of the soil conditions at the end of the season… Is that okay?”

The chamberlain promptly choked on his own breath, cutting off a cough into his sleeve before leaning in closer. “No need to ask for permission, Fire Lady.”

The minister inclined his head in approval, and the governor let out a breath of relief before formally accepting the terms. Just like that, the matter was settled. You kept your shoulders relaxed, fighting off a triumphant grin as the chamberlain caught your eye.

“An excellent beginning, Your Majesty,” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear.

Triple T working like a charm.

The next attendant stepped forward, carrying a scroll far thicker than the first and bound with a dark blue cord. The chamberlain inspected the seal before calling it out. “A petition concerning the renewal of commercial privileges at the port of Gaoling.”

A minister rose to explain. The original arrangement had been established shortly after the war, when an Earth Kingdom merchant consortium financed the reconstruction of several key warehouses in exchange for exclusive management rights over a fixed term.

That term was now expiring, thus the consortium wanted to renew the agreement; the eastern provincial governors wanted it dead.

You frowned, leaning over your papers. “Why?”

The minister blinked, taken aback. “Excuse me, Your Majesty?”

Remembering your first T, you quickly adjusted. “Apologies, Minister. Why do the governors want it to expire?”

“They believe the consortium has already recovered its full investment.”

“And has it?”

“That is… disputed.”

“Okay.” You glanced back down at the dense text. “How am I supposed to decide whether they keep the warehouses?”

The minister opened his mouth to reply, but another councilor cut in. “The matter is somewhat more complicated than that, Your Majesty.”

That didn't help. You cast a look toward the chamberlain, who was already watching you with patient expectation. Great.

“Could we hear the governors' objection?”

The relevant governor rose and laid out his case. You listened, then the consortium's representative was called forward to argue the exact opposite, so you listened again…

Another minister added a concern regarding the port authority's ability to manage the facilities before an official brought up tariffs. Someone else raised a point about local merchants who had already signed contracts based on the current setup, and suddenly, there were too many moving pieces.

Noticing your hesitation, the chamberlain stepped closer to the dais. “Your Majesty,” he offered, “the matter may be deferred.”

“What?”

“You are not required to reach a verdict today. We can request revised figures from the Ministry of Trade and place the petition before you again at the next session.”

You glanced toward the line of attendants still waiting with their scrolls. There were far more than you had realized. “But if I defer it…”

“We move on to the next item.”

You shook your head. “No. I need to understand it.”

The chamberlain's brows furrowed. “You do not need to grasp every single nuance of every petition before proceeding, Your Majesty...”

“I do if I'm expected to make a final decision.”

“You can decide once you've received a distilled report.”

“But I don't know what details I'm missing yet!”

The chamberlain drew in a controlled breath. “Then perhaps,” he said, “we should leave this for another day.”

You looked back at the tangled documents spread across your desk. “No.”

His jaw tightened. “Your Majesty—”

“I'll figure it out,” you said with a smile. “Don't worry!”

The Gaoling petition had devoured hours.

Figures had been cross-examined, contracts had been unrolled… The Ministry of Trade had been forced to dig up archives from the previous administration, but finally, after an endless exchange of numbers, clauses, and conflicting arguments, the logic snapped into place.

You set your brush down. “Then that's settled.”

The remaining officials glanced at one another in relief.

“The consortium may retain the warehouses, but the exclusive arrangement will not be renewed beyond the current term. The port authority will assume management afterward, and the Ministry of Trade will oversee the transition so current merchants have sufficient notice.”

The governor who had opposed the renewal bowed. “That is entirely agreeable, Your Majesty.”

The consortium's representative followed suit. “As it is to the consortium.”

“Excellent.” You gathered the scattered parchments into a stack. “Thank you all for your patience.”

As the officials filed out, you watched them go with a deep sense of pride. You had actually done it.

The chamberlain approached the dais. “Your Majesty.”

You looked up, wiping a trace of ink from your finger. “Yes?”

“We still have the afternoon schedule to attend to.”

“I know, I didn't forget—”

“The agricultural report was meant to begin twenty minutes ago,” he interrupted. “Following that, you have your correspondence review, and then your session with the royal household staff. We will need to move quickly.”

You gathered your robes and hurried down the steps behind him. “Wait, I thought I had time for lunch.”

“You did. It is now well past the scheduled hour.”

You glanced toward the window. Oh. It really was.

As you followed him out into the grand corridor, your stomach gave an embarrassingly loud rumble the moment the doors shut. You looked around the empty hallway. “Where's Zuko?”

The chamberlain didn't miss a beat. “The Fire Lord?”

“Yes… the Fire Lord.”

“He is successfully moving forward with his schedule.”

You quickened your pace to match his long strides. “Meaning?”

“Meaning he completed his audiences, and is currently reviewing the provincial reconstruction reports.”

You blinked. “All before lunch?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. He is remarkably efficient.”

You nodded. He didn't need to say it out loud; you knew you were woefully behind. But it was for a good cause… right?

“We should hurry,” you muttered.

And hurry you did. The agricultural report ran far over its allotted time, and the correspondence review went even worse… you spent fifteen minutes searching for the imperial seal before realizing it had been sitting right beside your elbow the entire time. By the time you reached the royal household meeting, your mind was still tangled in Gaoling port tariffs. You missed an appointment with the palace archivists, and the gnawing realization set in that you hadn't eaten a single bite since breakfast…

By the time you returned to your chambers, the sun had begun its descent beyond the palace roofs. The Triple T had ceased to be a helpful guide and devolved into an exhausted mantra:

Titles. You forgot two of them back-to-back.

Tea. You hadn't seen a cup in hours.

Treaties. You never wanted to look at another piece of parchment ever! again!

You had just stepped through the doors of your quarters when the chamberlain appeared behind you, carrying a stack of papers.

“We need to discuss today.”

You stopped in your tracks. You were exhausted enough that the mere sound of his voice made your shoulders sag. Turning back toward him, you forced your posture straight for the thousandth time that day and offered a smile.

He remained unusually stern. “The morning council was scheduled for two hours. It lasted nearly four.”

Your lips pressed into a tight-er smile.

“You missed three appointments because of it,” he pressed on. “And the correspondence review had to be postponed until tomorrow because you failed to finish the reports on time.”

You looked down, your thumb tracing the band of your ring. “I was trying to make sure I actually understood everything.”

“I am aware.” The chamberlain let out a long breath, raising a hand to rub at his brow. “Your Majesty, I know that this is overwhelming.”

You lifted your chin, giving your finger a small tug. “... I am trying.”

“I know you are,” he said, letting his hand drop. “That is why I am frustrated.”

You frowned, taken aback. “What am I missing?” 

“You are working yourself into the ground trying to prove that you belong here.”

Your lips parted.

“You spent hours on a single petition because you refused to accept that you could return to it later,” he said. “You skipped lunch, rushed through the remainder of your schedule and then spent the rest of the afternoon trying to make up for the time you lost… that is not efficiency, Your Majesty. That is exhaustion.”

“I just wanted to… get it right.”

“I know. But you will not get everything right on your first attempt.”

You swallowed hard. “Zuko thinks I can, and I don't want to—”

“I believe you can, too. I would not be standing here frustrated if I didn't,” he said, holding your gaze. “You are trying to learn an entire institution while simultaneously learning how to live inside it, that is no small undertaking, but you must allow yourself room to learn. You cannot demand perfection before anyone has even had the opportunity to guide you.”

You tapped your ring twice, processsing his words. “Then what am I supposed to do?”

“Tomorrow? Defer what can be deferred. Request the information you need, and trust the ministers to do the work they were appointed to do.”

“I just…” You exhaled. “How am I supposed to make a decision if I don't have all the information?” 

“Ask.”

“And if I still don't understand?”

“Ask again.”

You fought a reluctant smile. “Once again, you just make it sound simple.”

“It is.” He glanced down at the documents he was holding. “Whether you will actually follow the advice remains to be seen.”

You crinkled your nose at him. Despite Zuko’s complaints about the man, he seemed to have some comprehension left to spare, and a… was that a smile? On his face? Surely not. 

“Get some rest, Your Majesty.”

You nodded. “Thank you.”

He turned toward the door to take his leave, then paused, turning back. “And, Fire Lady?”

“Mhm?”

“You are not expected to become the Fire Lord...”

You swallowed.

He inclined his head with respect. “... You are only expected to become yourself in this position.”

You stood there staring at the closed doors. You weren't doing brilliantly… and you knew the court expected a seasoned Fire Lady… someone who could glide through council sessions without missing a single beat or a single meal. But, at least someone believed you could actually get there.

Right now, though, high politics took a backseat to basic survival. You needed to eat literally whatever was within arm's reach, find your husband, and take a long bath while you read through the scrolls to prepare for tomorrow.

Preferably: take a bath with your husband, who could perhaps be bothered to explain tomorrow’s petitions while you counted his eyelashes. Why not? 

You stepped back out into the corridor, already mentally mapping the fastest, least conspicuous route to the kitchens.

“—nearly four hours.”

“For one petition?”

“Apparently…”

You stopped without meaning to, pressing your back flat against the cool stone of a recessed archway just around the corner. Through the open lattice of the decorative screens separating the main hallway from the servants' passage, two voices drifted back to you.

“I heard the Fire Lady wouldn't move on until she understood every last detail.”

“How very thorough.”

“How very inconvenient!”

A snide laugh traveled down the corridor.

“The chamberlain nearly lost his patience.”

“Can you blame him?”

Footsteps paused near a brass sconce, just out of your line of sight.

“She's been here for how long?”

“Long enough to know better.”

“Has she? She's a farmer's daughter playing at court.”

Farmer's daughter.

You had never been ashamed of that. Your family had worked the same soil for generations, you knew how to read the sky before a storm,, how to tell when land had been overworked, how to stretch a lean harvest through an even leaner winter… you had spent your entire childhood learning things that no minister in that palace had ever needed to know.

But standing there, listening to them turn it into an insult, you wondered if perhaps that was the entire problem. You had spent the day trying to prove you belonged here, but what else could you do when people you didn’t even know (minus the chamberlain) had already decided you didn't?

You blinked rapidly, refusing to let the sting behind your eyes turn into anything more. It was fine to get emotional, but no, you weren't going to cry in a palace hallway. Ew, ew, ew. You shook the thought from your head. There wasn't a T left for tears.

Pushing away from the wall, you kept your head high even as your thoughts grew heavier with every step. You turned the corner, only to nearly walk straight into a chest.

Two hands caught you by the arms before you could collide.

“Easy.”

Zuko’s eyes swept over your face, taking in the tension in your shoulders before his grip relaxed.

“There you are.”

You tried to assemble a smile, but seeing him made the lump in your throat double in size. Buying yourself time to repress the urge to burst into tears, you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder.

“Hi!” Breathe in, breathe out...

“I've been looking for you. Food is on its way.”

No time for tears. You unclasped your arms and pulled back. “Why?”

“You missed lunch,” he said, bringing a hand along your jaw. “And I had a bath prepared for you.”

“You did?” you asked, keeping your voice light, praying the watery sheen in your eyes wouldn't give you away.

“I thought you might need it.”

“You're very presumptuous.”

“I just know you, and I know when you need to be pampered.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Come on. You're done for today.”

“But I still have—”

“Nope. No scrolls, no information. You can afford to take a break.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Zuko.”

“Don't be stubborn…”

“Look who's talking, the stubborn Lord of the stubborn nation.”

He let out a laugh, and you surrendered with a sigh.

“Fine. Not like that wasn't almost exactly what I was planning on doing anyway… minus the extra work.”

He slipped an arm around your waist, guiding you back toward your chambers. Inside, the room was pleasantly comforting, and from beyond the adjoining doors came the soothing sound of filling water. When did this become your life again?

Stepping behind you, Zuko’s fingers found the heavy clasp at the back of your robes. “Here.”

Your hands moved to your collar. “I can do it.”

“Me too, how funny.” His fingers worked at the formal fastenings.

“... You don't have to, Zu.”

He eased the outer layer from your shoulders, letting the silk fall into his waiting hands before setting it aside. “You've done enough today.”

You swallowed hard. “I'm not sure I did…”

Zuko's eyes met yours in the vanity mirror. “There's always tomorrow.” He leaned down, brushing his lips against your temple. “Tonight, you eat.” Continuing with a kiss against your cheek. “You bathe.” Another to the curve of your jaw. “And then you let your husband take care of you for a while. Or are you going to become the stubborn Lady of the stubborn nation, too?”

His hands traveled down your waist, catching the remaining layer of clothes as it pooled around your feet. His arms wrapped around you from behind, pulling you flush against his chest, one hand going lower to your center and earning a soft moan from your throat.

You tilted your head back, fingers tangling into his hair to tug his lips closer to yours. “Alright… I'd rather handle one nation at a time.”

With a smile pressed against your neck, he guided you toward the steam of the bath, making it feel as though there were nowhere else in the world you needed to be.

Zuko had stepped out into the grand corridor expecting to find you, already knowing the fastest route to your side.

A handful of palace staff were talking and laughing nearby, nothing abnormal for this hour. He kept walking, tuning out the background chatter, until one sentence sliced through the noise.

“She's a farmer's daughter playing at court.”

Zuko stopped dead in his tracks. His jaw tightened, his breath hitched. Since becoming Fire Lord, managing his rising temper had become a daily discipline, and he had learned to control it! Marvelously so… but sometimes, a select few times, people still managed to grate on his last nerve with terrifying speed. In those rare sparks, he felt things with the same unmanageable intensity as his younger self.

So he turned on his heel.

The two attendants froze, the color draining from their faces the moment they spotted him standing at the end of the hall.

One of them bowed hastily, his voice trembling. “Fire Lord.”

Zuko closed the distance between them with slow steps. “Repeat that.”

Neither spoke. He came to a halt right in front of them, looming over the pair.

“I’d like for you to repeat what you just said.”

Dead. Silence.

“Interesting,” he murmured, glancing between the two attendants. “You seemed to have plenty to say a moment ago.”

One of them swallowed hard, her hands trembling inside her sleeves. “Fire Lord, we meant no—”

“I apologize, I should’ve been clear- I don't care what you meant.”

His voice didn't rise to a shout (the days of yelling were long behind him) but the flat, ice cold control behind his words cut deeper than a scream ever could.

“You are free to disagree with the policies of this palace,” Zuko said. “You are free to criticize a decision, you are even free to think the Fire Lady has more to learn. But you will never ridicule my wife.”

Neither attendant dared to move or breathe.

“She is learning, and she is allowed to make mistakes while she does it. If either of you forgets that again, you will find yourselves with considerably less time to gossip in these halls.”

He turned away to leave, taking two steps before stopping to cast a sharp look back over his shoulder.

“Bring a tray of food to the Fire Lady's chambers.”

The attendants exchanged a panicked glance.

“Immediately!”

“Yes, Fire Lord!”

Zuko continued down the corridor. He had known today would be difficult for you, even with your optimism and determination, and he had known you would inevitably doubt yourself. What he hadn't anticipated was that his own palace staff would actively make the transition harder for you.

His hands curled into tight fists at his sides as he walked. That, he thought, was something he could fix.

note: this is the first part of imperfect for you, a mini-series based on different requests which can each be read on their own, but i’ll be tying them together lowkey as the series goes on, so you can binge them in order if you want to catch the little connections…

I’m honestly so excited about this little series bc some requests ended up fitting together way better than I expected. I love the idea of getting to explore different stages of their relationship in this newlywed timeline while still letting each story have its own thing going on. Also, for the first time, I made the concept of the council be more accurate to what we see in the movie so hope that’s good?? I tried! — hope you liked it! Thank you for reading! Xx

No one had once asked what you wanted. You were a princess. Your heart had never belonged to you.

Rumours reached you long before the city walls.

The king was cursed. The king wore a silver mask. The king was terrifying.

By the time Jerusalem’s gates opened in front of you, you had already convinced yourself you would be marrying a ghost.

Your first meeting with Baldwin was not at court. It was in the palace library.

You had escaped the endless welcoming feast, desperate for silence, wandering through corridors until shelves of books rose around you.

“You dislike celebrations.”

The voice startled you. It was… soft. Measured. Intelligent.

You turned around, and he stood near the window, sunlight caught on his white robes embroidered with crosses. His face was hidden behind the famous silver mask, only his blue eyes were visible.

They were not frightening. They looked tired.

“You should announce yourself before speaking,” you replied sharply.

“I wished to know who you were before everyone else told me.”

His answer caught you off guard. He stepped closer.

“I am Baldwin.”

“As if I could mistake you.”

A small laugh escaped him. Amused.

“I imagine I am rather recognisable.”

There was no bitterness. No self-pity. Just acceptance. You had expected a king who demanded obedience.

Instead he asked, “What book were you searching for?”

“I wasn’t.”

“You came to hide.”

“…Perhaps.”

“So did I.”

You stared.

“A king hides?”

He looked toward the window.

“A man may hide, even if he wears a crown.”

For the first time since you left your home, you smiled.

Weeks became months.

The wedding was delayed under the excuse of politics.

In truth… Neither of you objected.

Baldwin preferred knowing you before binding you to him.

“I would rather earn your trust,” he admitted one evening while the two of you overlooked Jerusalem from the palace walls.

“You assume you haven’t.”

“I assume arranged marriages begin with resentment.”

“They do.”

“And ours?”

You looked at him.

“…Mine did.”

He nodded.

“I thought as much.”

No anger. No disappointment.

Only honesty.

He taught you chess. You never won, not because he was king, but because he thought ten moves ahead.

“You sacrifice too quickly,” he told you.

“You sacrifice nothing.”

“I sacrifice pieces that may be replaced.”

“And people?”

His hand paused over the board.

“I sacrifice myself before my people.”

You looked into his eyes, he wasn’t speaking metaphorically.

He meant every word.

Some nights you read to him. His fingers slowly lost sensation, turning pages became difficult, so you did it for him.

Sometimes he corrected historians. Sometimes he laughed at old philosophers. Sometimes he asked impossible questions.

“If Heaven exists…” You looked up from the book. “…do you believe we remain ourselves?”

“What do you mean?”

“Would a king still be a king?”

“I don’t know.”

“Would illness remain?”

“No.”

“I hope not.”

The first time you saw him without the mask was an accident.

His physician had just finished changing bandages when the old man hurried away to fetch medicine. The door remained open.

“Baldwin?”

No answer. You stepped inside. He sat in front of the mirror.

Without silver.

Without protection.

The disease had stolen so much.

Scars. Pale skin. Damaged features. Hands wrapped in linen.

He saw your reflection.

For a long moment… Neither of you spoke.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I shouldn’t have-”

“You’ve seen.” His voice was calm. “So now you know why ambassadors avoid my gaze.”

You crossed the room before fear could stop you, he expected you to recoil. Instead… you knelt before him.

“I see a man. A very tired man.”

His shoulders trembled. Just slightly. No one had said such words to him in years. You reached for his bandaged hand.

He hesitated, then allowed it.

“I was afraid,” he admitted.

“Of me?”

“No.”

His thumb barely brushed yours.

“Of disappointing you.”

Your eyes filled with tears.

“You never could.”

It happened after that.

You fell in love.

Not all at once, piece by piece. The way dawn slowly replaces darkness.

You loved the way he remembered every servant’s name.

You loved how children were never afraid of him.

You loved the way he quoted scholars from memory.

The way he never lied to comfort anyone.

The way he prayed not for himself… But for Jerusalem.

You loved him.

Entirely, hopelessly and you realised it… far too late.

His illness worsened with cruel speed.

Walking became impossible. Meetings shortened. The physicians whispered outside his chambers.

No one smiled anymore. You refused to hear what everyone already knew.

Until one morning, his sister met you outside his room. Tears stained her face.

“He asked for you.”

The chamber smelled of incense. Candles flickered against stone walls.

Baldwin lay under white blankets, breathing slowly. He turned his head as you entered.

“My princess.”

His voice was barely louder than the candles. You rushed to him.

“No.”

He smiled weakly.

“You always hated that title.”

Your throat tightened.

“I don’t anymore.” You took his hand. It felt cold. “I should have told you sooner.”

He looked at you with quiet curiosity.

“Told me what?”

Your composure shattered.

“I love you.”

The words escaped with sobs.

“I was stubborn and angry. I thought this marriage had stolen my future.” Tears streamed freely down your face. “And then you became my future.”

He closed his eyes. As if he was savouring the words.

“I have loved you… for so long. You deserved more than a dying king.”

“I deserved you.”

He struggled to lift his hand. You helped him. His fingertips brushed your cheek.

“So beautiful…” he whispered.

“When you leave…” Your voice broke. “…don’t be afraid.” He looked at you. “In Heaven…” You smiled through tears. “…there will be no silver mask. No pain and no illness. I’ll recognise you.”

“You will?”

“I’ll find you. And this time there will be no kingdoms. No treaties. No arranged marriage. Only you and me.”

A faint smile appeared on his lips.

“I should like to choose you.”

His eyes softened, then, with the last strength he had.

“I love you.”

The room became impossibly still. His hand relaxed within yours. The candles continued burning.

Outside, Jerusalem carried on.

Inside… A king departed this world.

Years later, pilgrims often found an older queen kneeling in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.

She never remarried. Never wore another man’s ring. Whenever they asked why, she only smiled.

“Because I have already promised my next life.”

Then she would look upward toward the stained-glass light filtering through the ancient stone.

And somewhere beyond the heavens…

She imagined a young king.

No mask.

No wounds.

Waiting patiently.

Just as he always had.

~Masterlist~