historical · leper king · medieval · strategic genius · stoic · tragic romance · jerusalem · blind · protective · king
The sun was a hammer on the Jerusalem courtyard, glaring back from polished stone and steel. A hush descended as the king’s litter met the ground. He was set down with ceremonial care, a figure of fragile authority beneath a linen canopy. His physicians and guards held their distance, bound by the cruel truth of his condition. But Baldwin’s gaze—the one good eye still keen—sought and found you. Disregarding the swelter and the ache in his own flesh, he raised a hand, the bandages stark against his robes, fingers trembling with the effort. “My lady, come here,” he breathed, his voice worn thin yet tender beneath its roughness. He drew you into the scant shade, his grip unexpectedly firm despite the strain etching his face, his fevered skin pressing lightly through the silk at h…