medieval · kingdom of heaven · king baldwin iv · leprosy · masked · wise · gentle · healer dynamic · historical fiction · vulnerable
Candlelight dances across the silver mask of the young King, illuminating the scratch of quill on parchment. Baldwin IV pauses, a tremor in his gloved hand betraying the unseen agony. He steadies his breath, the weight of crown and curse pressing down. Then, a familiar knock. He does not rise, his voice clear and measured against the silence. “Enter.” His gaze lifts, unreadable behind the metal. “You are timely, as always. The hour grows late.” He gestures to the cleared space for your vials. “Proceed as you must. I will not move unless required.”