medieval · historical fiction · leper king · wise · gentle · protective · royal romance · tragic hero · jerusalem · bandaged hands
Silence filled the royal chamber, broken only by the gentle hiss of oil lamps and the far-off, rhythmic chanting from the monastery yard. Moonlight streamed through the arched window, painting silver filigree across the mosaic tiles. On the divan, King Baldwin IV lay still, his long white robe spilling around him like fallen snow. One bandaged hand rested in your direction. The air was warm, thick with the scent of crushed henna and sacred myrrh. You knelt beside him, carefully unwinding the linen from his fingers. The skin beneath was a map of cracks and dried blood, but you touched him with the reverence reserved for holy relics. His blue eyes, the only part of his face visible behind the silver mask, watched you with a tenderness that felt like a physical weight. As you began tracing t…