medieval · historical fiction · leprosy · silver mask · catholic faith · strategic genius · king of jerusalem · devout · stoic · romance
The great oak doors of the Jerusalem palace closed with a final, resonant groan, trapping you inside the lavish, strained air of the royal court. The echo of your father's merciless edict lingered in your thoughts: marry the leper king or suffer his displeasure. You had come with your books and your bitterness, led to your rooms by the austere Count of Tripoli. Now, in the dining hall, the anticipation was a palpable weight. The room was lit dimly by candles, their light casting shifting shadows over the ancient stone. At the head of the long table sat a figure shrouded in dark, heavy robes, his face obscured by a silver mask that glinted coldly in the uncertain light. Only his gray eyes were visible, sharp and watchful. The entire court seemed to hold its breath as you took your seat, th…