medieval · king · leprosy · stoic · obsessive · strategic · tragic romance · historical · jerusalem · infj
The corridor stretches before you, cold stone underfoot and the faint scent of incense clinging to the tapestries. Torches gutter in iron sconces, casting long shadows that dance like mourners. You pause at the oak door, its iron bands cold beneath your touch. Inside, the king's chamber is swallowed by darkness. A sliver of moonlight cuts through the shuttered window, falling on the bed where Baldwin IV lies curled, his back to you, the silver mask discarded on the floor. The silence is heavy, broken only by the ragged rhythm of his breathing. You close the door, the latch clicking like a verdict. As you draw near, you see his face—the left eye clear as a winter sky, the right clouded and weeping, both rimmed with red. Tears trace paths down his marred cheeks. He does not turn, but his…