King Baldwin X Reader - Defending Your Honor

family: “why are you just sitting in ur room smiling at ur phone?”

me who’s been reading smut about fictional characters for the past 6 hours:

Just for informational purposes, most of Baldwin's family isn't from Provence. Only Raymond III of Tripoli can claim Occitan connections through Toulouse. The rest of his closest kin not born in the Holy Land are primarily from County Anjou, County Maine, Rethel, and Courtenay, all of which are in the northern part of France, the first two being close to Brittany. He also has direct ties to Flanders and Normandy.

Yeah sorry I kind of oversimplified a bit to not sound too much of a history nerd, but no the Angevins reigned mainly over the Provence region, plus all the other territories they owned.

Plus his education was entrusted to William of Tyre who came back to France to study, and the culture in the court of Jerusalem still reflected the one from the regions crusaders and nobles came from, so I just decided to simplify it all a bit since historical accuracy wasn't really the point while I was discussing his hypothetical taste in modern music lmao

MASTERLIST

Kingdom of Heaven:

King Baldwin IV:

Life always comes down to a game of chess

I’ll be waiting for you

Sweetest of melodies

My archangel - coming soon!

Bandit - coming soon!

Voice of Heaven - coming soon!

Like Lancelot - coming soon!

Headcanons:

Arguing with you

Sickness

Period

Defending your honor

Nsfw

Cats or dogs?

Modern headcanons: modern music, pt 2, pt 3, reaction to immodest clothing, modern style, chips and drinks, anime

Percy Jackson and the Olympians:

Luke Castellan:

Last date

Ghost of you - coming soon!

Heroes Of Olympus:

Leo Valdez:

Headcanons - child of Aphrodite!S/O

Trials of Apollo

Lester Papadopoulos/Apollo:

It's Over, isn't It? - part one

Eternal Bonds - part two

The Arcana

Asra Alnazar:

Headcanons - Intimacy before and after

Young and Beautiful - coming soon!

You're my plague - coming soon!

Julian Devorak:

Kiss the girl - coming soon!

Avatar: the Last Airbender -> Out of the Masterlist

Aang:

That voice in his head

Hi! Could you please do a part two to the lester/apollo x reader fic you posted?

Apollo x reader - Eternal Bonds

A/N: thank you so much for your request, anon! Sorry if this took a bit more than the time I usually take to write my fics, but as I said the past weeks have been really tiring for me🥹 

Anyway, I hope you like this fic, I personally like it better than the first part, but as always let me know your thoughts on it<3

Aaaand as always, painting is "Springtime" by Pierre Auguste Cot for anyone interested!

Summary: Having regained his immortality and prestige, all that remained for Apollo was to stabilise something in his life was one thing: you. It might sound easy, but he honestly would disagree.

Warning: it is implied that Athena has a great admiration for reader, but they’re not their child. This reconnects with my own personal thoughts on how Athena’s cabin should work, so the goddess’ relationship with reader in this fic should be seen as the same as hers and Odysseus’ (if you want further explanations on what their dynamic was let me know:))) Also I must say, I haven’t read any of the trials of Apollo books in ages so I took it as an occasion to interpret Apollo’s return to Olympus how I see it more fit to this little scenario of mine.

And lastly, not a warning but this fic starts just a bit before the end of the first part, if anyone was wondering:)

Word count: 3813 (longest fic yet omgg)

Apollo stood there, standing on the elevator that would take him home. How strange, he had dreamed of this moment for months, eager to return to his home and be welcomed as a glorious hero, with restored dignity, free of the mortal shell in which he had been confined all this time. He had imagined himself proud, tall and triumphant as he entered the gates of Olympus.

Yet as he stood on his way home, he could not prevent the continuous movement of his foot against the elevator floor. There was no trace in him of the security typical of a hero, in him at that time reigned only the same anxiety and nervousness that had characterized his mortal form. First it was Apollo inside Lester’s body, now Apollo had his body back, but Lester was inside of him. That Lester had become an integral part of him? Or maybe it didn’t add up, maybe it was always there, unable to make its voice heard under the omnipresent spirit of Apollo.

Okay, maybe he was rambling, but he couldn’t help it when he felt like his nerves were about to make him explode!

The point was, he wasn’t just going home, he was going to convince his father, the king of the gods, the exact same person who kicked him out of Olympus, to make the love of his life immortal so that he could stay by his side for eternity. It was not a situation in which one could easily remain connected to reality.

Finally, the elevator slowed down its run, until it stopped completely and opened its doors with a characteristic "ding".

Slowly, one step at a time, Apollo stepped out of the elevator and advanced to the throne room, walking up the path that would take him directly there. His performance had an air of regal composure, but it was nothing more than a method of masking his tense nerves. He walked until he reached the first areas inhabited by the Olympians and some other immortal creature.

"Apollo? I didn’t know you were already back. We thought it would take you millennia to make it up to Zeus!!" He hadn’t heard it in a while, but there was no way he could ever forget the sound of Nike’s voice. The winged goddess came to meet him flying curiously, also attracting the attention of the entities that had not paid attention to the scene so far.

Some approached, recognizing the face of the beloved god, while others ran to announce his return to the major gods. First came Hestia, who with that loving family attitude, embraced him gently. "Oh Apollo, you were so good! I never doubted you could do it." 

"I can’t say that with as much confidence, but I must congratulate you, Apollo, you have exceeded all my expectations." It was the authoritarian voice of Athena who spoke, who wore a smile on her face, a more unique than rare event. Apollo was so surprised by this unusual compliment from her that he hardly paid any attention to her questioning his chances of success.

For a moment he felt his eyes almost come out of his skull when a large hand was planted on his shoulder to pat him. " Well done, little brother, aren’t you as soft as you look, eh?" Massaging his shoulder, Apollo smiled faintly at the mountain that was his half-brother. "Thanks, Ares, it means a lot I guess..."

He was about to receive the coup de grâce, if it were not for Aphrodite, unconscious of her intervention, she had put herself right in the middle, affectionately placing one hand on Apollo’s shoulder while the other not very secretly found place in that of Ares, to the delight of Hephaestus who observed snorting away from the scene, but thumbs up at the sun god to express his joy.

He didn’t know how long this lasted, or exactly how many gods surrounded him at that point, but when Nike was about to hold a banquet in his honor he couldn’t control his reaction: "No wait!" His tone sounded so panicked that he caught everyone unawares. For a moment the gods almost had the sensation of speaking a mortal, so much his voice had squeaked in the air. Realizing that he had drawn even more attention to you, as if it were even possible in that situation, he gently shrugged his shoulders, to mitigate the gaze of the Olympians his nerves more tense than ever.

"Um I-" he made a false cough to try to regain his posture before starting to speak again, illuminating his companions with a dazzling smile, "sorry, mortal’s pollen, am I right? Anyway, much as I would be... ecstatic to attend a banquet, I’m afraid I must first have a discussion with Zeus about some... matters of utmost urgency! If you’ll excuse me, now.”

With little pomp, he made his way through the crowd stunned at his unusual behavior. "Poor thing, the Earth has changed him." Someone shook their head resigned, someone else did not even notice his abrupt exit, simply saying goodbye and congratulating him as he got smaller and smaller in the distance. The attention to him lasted just before each god went for their merry way. After all, when you have a whole eternity to live, there are few things left for you for a long time.

Everyone resumed doing what they were doing before Apollo’s return, all except Athena. It was in her nature to predict the rival’s moves- or rather, the moves of anyone around her. She may not have been born with the ability to see the future, but her intellect allowed her to come to conclusions almost as apt as an oracle. Silent as night, he followed the solar god, whose aura seemed to be clouded by some heavy burden.

The closer he got to the heavy bronze doors of the throne room, the lighter his head felt, as if his brain had gone numb. He was mathematically certain that he had NEVER felt so nervous in his entire existence. Not even his many figures in human form could compare to how he was feeling at the time. But it’s not like he could back out now, not after all the way he’s come, not after promising you not to leave your side. Not now, that had arrived in front of the doors.

He didn’t even have to knock, or announce his own name. No use, Zeus was waiting for him. Apollo took a breath, pumping his chest to emulate some sense of confidence before making his way into the vast hall. Out of the corner of his eye, he looked around and looked at the empty thrones, each with small inlays reminiscent of its owner. He passed by his own throne, and a sense of longing pervaded him to the thought that in no time he would have sat there again. Maybe you could convince Zeus to put a similar throne for you next to his own..

No, stay focused, Apollo, first of all he had to convince Zeus to make them immortal in the first place.

Without even realizing it, he was so taken by his own thoughts, he had reached the end of the room, finding himself a few feet from the king of Olympus. Now he could not afford to show himself weak, fearful. Come on, it had to come easy for him, he was also the god of the theater after all! As if a thread pulled him from above, he felt himself erect tall and proud, his chest out, his muscular back straight; a slight halo of light surrounded him, reconferendogli a little of that shine that has always distinguished him from the rest of the gods. He smiled at his father before bowing down gracefully. "It’s good to see you again, Father."

“Apollo, I see it took you no time to get used to your old life once more. I trust you have learned your lesson.”

“Indeed, father. And I came here to thank you for it all. It was… better than I expected.” Zeus lifted a brow suspiciously, eyeing his son as if trying to make out what’s in his mind just by his appearance. “Mmh I hardly believe that you only came here to thank me for your punishment.” Okay, even if he had second thoughts, it was DEFINITELY too late to back out. Yet despite the seriousness of the situation, Apollo no longer felt the same anxiety that had accompanied him throughout the climb to Olympus. He felt powerful, confident in his words, in his actions, but above all confident in you. He knew that if ever there was a mortal worthy of immortality, it was most certainly you. He looked up at his father, this time his smile had become less dazzling, almost a little nervous.

“Heh, you’re not wrong, father. I came here to make a request.”

“Depends. What is it that you desire?”

“How do you make a demigod immortal?”

Total silence fell in the room. The expression of Zeus was intelligible, and not being able to read the true emotions of Apollo, moreover in such a silent environment did not help to calm his nervousness. Zeus slowly blinked, covering his icy eyes for a moment before opening them again as he breathed in just as slowly. " Few mortals have earned the gift of immortality throughout history. He must deserve that honor with out-of-the-ordinary feats," he paused, as if to reflect, then resumed speaking, in a neutral but glacial and authoritative tone, "this is not impossible, but I count on one bare hand how many times a mortal has been added to the abode of the immortals over the millennia."

"I am aware of this, Father, and that is precisely why I believe that the person I speak of is the most deserving of this honor." Zeus did not answer. Not immediately, at least. He seemed confused and intrigued at the same time, as if he had not expected such a response. " My son, what do you mean by that?" Apollo could not avoid the smile that spread on his face having an opportunity to talk about your countless qualities, which in his eyes were endless. It was one of his favorite activities even when he was mortal, actually.

"You see father, they are a demigod of qualities worthy only of an immortal god. They are strong and wise, although they are still at a young age. They fear nothing but the limits imposed by Olympus, which they have served since the day they set foot inside Camp Half-Blood."He took a little dramatic pause, perhaps expecting to be interrupted by the divine father, but he gave no sign of wanting to intervene in words; he preferred to remain silent, peering at his son while he justified his reasons for satisfying his will.

"And they are beautiful, Father. They shine with a beauty far beyond that of an ordinary mortal. Even on the battlefield, soiled with blood and filth of all kinds, their beauty always resembled that of Aphrodite and Eros and all the gods of all the Pantheons of this world who possess the gift of supreme beauty." To this the father could not suppress a snort of derision, not trusting the words of the son in fact of beauty, "If I remember well such words were spoken by you also for Hyacinth, and before him Daphne, and before her still such a long series of river nymphs and mortal beings that I lost count."

Apollo lowered his head in resignation, sighing gently before looking up to speak again, "I realize this, Father, but I mention their beauty only because it would be a crime against all that is right to omit. However, it remains only one of the many qualities that characterize them, which none of my past lovers can say. But that is not the greatest reason why I consider them worthy of immortality."

"Speak openly then, you know I don’t like to wait." The blond-haired god nodded and took another step towards the king of the gods, his eyes even brighter than before, inflamed by his longing desire to obtain what he most desired in his entire existence. You, at his side. Forever.

"You see, they have done a great service to the goddess of wisdom and the manual arts. They have done the will of Athena and have done such glorious deeds that they have increased her honor. I myself was able to attend only some of their quests, but I assure you that they were so great as to justify the support and blessing of a goddess so hardly affable." To these words, Zeus seemed completely incredulous. In Olympus it was well known that Athena was the beloved daughter of the king of the gods, who always kept her close to him and always made all her will an uncompromising law. It seemed impossible to him that any mortal had been able to win the favor of the goddess, and he strongly doubted the veracity of Apollo’s claim.

The young god opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a voice echoing from behind him, "As much as the idea of supporting Apollo’s petty whims, this time I must agree with him." Athena had followed Apollo to the throne room, suspicious of his strange behavior. He had to be honest, Apollo literally had no idea what to say at that moment; he did not expect to get to that point with his interview and certainly did not expect Athena’s support in his intent. But this was a real blessing, for she herself could bear witness to your worth.

She only gave him a scowling look, like a silent admonition to avoid yelling at him, pick up your mouth from the ground and be a god, genius! But his silver eyes were enough to relay the message, and after a moment Apollo had returned to his usual divine bearing. She blinked slowly before turning her eyes again to Zeus.

"Y/N Y/L is a demigod of undeniable quality, which also left me pleasantly surprised. It is true, they have diligently served Olympus and have especially served me, and I have let them fight in my name precisely because their wit deserved such honor. If only it were possible, I would claim them as my own child, for only twice in my existence have I met two mortal men of equal virtue, and those mortals were the king of Ithaca and your son Hercules, to whom you rightly granted immortality.

You know that I do not speak in vain when I express my opinion, and that is why I consider them worthy to also obtain the gift of immortality, especially when to these incredibly successful quests are added the love of a god and the admiration of another." 

Now Zeus observed the two with two comically wide eyes, mostly due to the unexpected intervention of Athena. Even Apollo could not hide his amazement from that sudden help, but he certainly did not complain at all. Three beats passed, then Zeus cleared his voice and I speak in a more serene tone than before, though still authoritarian, "Very well, if you yourself, Athena, consider this mortal worthy of so many honors I want to believe you. Your lover will be granted immortality, Apollo. This will happen at sundown, when you bring your chariot back here to Olympus. Lead them with you, and they can live forever here with you."

"Yes!!" Apollo threw a fist in the air for joy, a small habit he had taken in his stay on earth, but soon after he realized that perhaps it was not quite the right place to give free rein to his happiness, judging by the unimpressed face of Zeus, "Um, I apologize. I thank you father, for this wonderful gift. I assure you that you will not regret it!" He slowly stepped back as he spoke to him with the biggest smile on his face, extending his arms and bending his knees in a farewell bow. Zeus, for the first time in what seemed like centuries, smiled at Apollo and nodded slightly.

"Enjoy this concession of mine, my son, and may it remain in your mind as your reward for having demonstrated your qualities, even without the intervention of your divinity."

"I’ll never forget it. They’ll never let me!" With some other ceremonious thanksgiving, which they had little given the haste and irrepressible joy of the sun god, Apollo rushed down to Olympus, hastening as much as possible to reach his beloved in the place where they had met. He looked at a clock to see how much time he had left. 7 P.M., he still had some time left. He ran like a madman, until he saw the entrance of the familiar Campo approaching. He ignored everyone around him, his perplexed children, his disappointed fangirls, his friends not too surprised to see him running like a bullet through the field, with the biggest smile they’d ever seen on him. Only Meg had a vague feeling about what exactly happened, but even if she did, she didn’t say anything and just looked at him smiling before going back to her things.

Apollo entered the forest next to the Camp and continued to run. Lucky he was back in his cool form, if he was still Lester would have collapsed out of breath for half an hour. And then finally, he finally arrived at your rendezvous point. She found you there, gently lying on moss, slumbering from the weariness of the activities at the Camp and from the worries you had freed yourself of the previous day, in that exact same place, when you had finally found your beloved. Apollo was quivering, thinking how you would react to the awakening, among the golden blankets of his heavenly palace. What would you have said seeing your body invigorated and illuminated by immortality. What would you have felt seeing that his declarations of eternal love were not fallacious, but promises that he had dedicated himself body and soul to keep.

He gently picked you up, taking care not to wake you. He invoked his golden chariot and rode with you to your new home. He kept you close, as much as he was physically allowed by the confined space. The journey did not last long, being facilitated by the godly transport; once arrived right in front of the golden gates of the Apollonian abode, he took you back in his bridal style, leading you to his- your bed. You were stretched out just as he saw your skin begin to shimmer gently, its color gradually became richer and filled with eternally vital sap. He stood by your side, filling your neck and shoulders with kisses as he crouched behind you, eagerly awaiting your rebirth as a deity.

In the morning you woke up with a strong light that dazzled you. You thought it was Apollo, who since he had returned to his true form had regained all the lustre of his nature. But no, it wasn’t him; it was you, whose skin emanated a faint light that bounced against the various gold inlays that were in the bedroom. Yeah, you didn’t remember falling asleep in a bed, the last thing you remembered was lying in the forest moss while you waited for Apollo. Wait a minute, this isn’t even a room in Camp Half-Blood! 

You did it to snap up to the alert, but then you stopped when you felt the familiar touch of Apollo caressing your shoulder, sliding towards the back of your neck and passing through your hair, which had been twice as long as the day before. Normally you would have yawned, but it didn’t seem physically possible to experience any fatigue in the state you were in. You felt... almighty. You finally turned your attention away from your body and turned it towards Apollo, who was already looking at you with a loveless look.

"Good morning, beautiful." You smiled though still confused by the situation you were in. Tempting your luck, you took a sigh and then you spoke, your melodic, honey-sweet voice even though you just woke up, "'Chicken, where are we?"

"We are in Olympus my dear. I promised you that I would not forget you, that I would love you forever. And I meant every single word I said, which is why I had a little conversation with Zeus earlier, and well... let’s just say with a little help I was able to convince him to give you immortality." He said it with the biggest and most satisfied smile I’d ever seen on him, and meanwhile he hugged you and held you and caressed you all over his body, as if to confirm himself that all this was true.

You were utterly speechless, incredulous at what this god had just done in the name of love for you, but at the same time you felt a warm feeling pervading you from within, filling you with joy and happiness, as if that of him had infected you like a disease. You held your hands to his face and laughed in disbelief and said, "You’re the biggest crazy idiot I’ve ever met, Lester!" 

He laughed with you, feeling pervaded by this joy that moved him from within, almost pushing him to tears by the power of these feelings. Holding you tighter, she stroked your silky soft hair as she chuckled happily, "I guess you’ll have to get used to the gold and clouds here." " Still better than a bunk bed to share in five."

Laughing together, you held each other so long as you had time, before he had to take off and lead the sun across the sky. Before he got on the golden chariot, he touched your face with his bronze hands and kissed you gently. " I still can’t believe I’m gonna be able to kiss these lips forever, Y/N." You smiled at him before you grabbed him by the shoulder to push him towards you, and kissed him again. " Then hurry up and leave, so you’ll be back soon and I’ll have a chance to convince you that everything is real." Winking at him, he laughed loudly and heartily, a more melodic sound than any lyre or flute.

"Then I shall not be long in returning to your arms, my lord" And so he departed towards the horizon, and you smiled as you watched him disappear into the sky, thinking with satisfaction of the world that will look up to him with longing and admiration, knowing that he will never again stop for anyone but you, once his daily duties are over. 

hello could you do headcanons smut of baldwin and his chubby wife

King Baldwin x reader - Nsfw headcanons

A/N: Wow these is the first explicit stuff I write for Baldwin!! Thank you so much for this prompt, thinking of a chubby medieval woman makes me think of all the portraits of beautiful women with the most harmonious curves I've ever seen😩😩

As always painting name is Romeo and Juliet by Frank Bernard Dicksee for my art enthusiasts :))

Warning: SMUT, reader is AFAB and uses she/her pronouns!

Unlike modern times, a fuller body has always been sign of beauty and fertility through western history

Although during medieval times anything related to attractiveness and sensuality was deemed as "bad", that still meant that a chubby woman would've been judged not for being against the beauty standard, but to be actually too tempting for the public!

So it comes without saying that young king Baldwin thought he might pass out the first time he saw you, knowing you were his betrothed

You'd awakened something in him, this burning desire to have you, to know how your soft curves would feel in his hands, how your silky skin would brush against his own

I see him having a long series of consecutive days where he woke up drenched in sweat, body slightly trembling as he'd come out of yet another wet dream about you, lying beneath him as he had his sweet way with you

He felt himself getting more and more impatient for the wedding night day to come, to finally be able to call you his

He'd also be quite insecure at first, and scared too. What if the sight of his body repulsed you? What if you wouldn't want to go near him to avoid the risk of getting the disease as well?

He wouldn't blame you for it, it'd be the wiser decision for the both of you

But still, he prays and hopes and dreams that you'd return the attraction he felt from you from the very start. He longs for the feeling of your touch against his numb body

He's a bundle of nerves during the whole ceremony, but he's good at hiding it (well the veil covering his head is); he seems to all calm down only once you're both sitting next to each other at the banquet, and you tentatively lay your soft hand over his laying on the table, shy touches blessing his skin

That night your marriage is consumed in no time, he's basically as gentle as humanly possible while he holds you in his arms, as he's slowly penetrating you

There was no really developed knowledge of foreplay or female anatomy in the middle ages, but it just felt natural for Baldwin to keep his focus on your every reactions while the two of you are making love

He doesn't know what he's doing, and neither do you considering that at that time you probably haven't even seen a naked man other than Baldwin himself, but that doesn't stop the two of you from exploring each other, taking your time to get to know what you like, what makes your eyes roll back and your back arch

I'm not sure if he'd be down for oral, I kind of see him as being a bit self conscious of the level of decay his mouth and face has reached, and I'm not too sure his cum would actually taste good with leprosy and all

Nevertheless, his fingers and cock are more than enough to bring you more pleasure than you could ever imagine

Don't expect any public stuff, Baldwin is still an extremely religious man whose values are not to be messed with: these things are meant for the privacy of your quarters alone, there's no need for him to bring this sacred thing you two have out where all eyes could possibly see

He'd probably be more on the vanilla side, being mostly against anything related to giving pain (he'd be indifferent to receiving it since his body is mainly numb, but he wouldn't enjoy it either)

Although he would probably enjoy being the more dominant one in the bedroom, the power dynamic would still remain on a pretty balanced level: you're still his beloved wife, his only equal in his eyes. That's why I could confidently say that Baldwin is the perfect example of soft dom

His favorite position would probably be missionary, just so that he could be able to see your pretty face while he pounds into you

Also because he could get to hold your plush thighs and see the delightful rolls that form on your belly

Your body screams femininity and fertility to him, an alluring combination that gets him going for as much time as you two have

His numbness also grants him a reduced sensibility, so he can afford to go more rounds at a time without having too many problems from it

But as the years pass, his mobility becomes more restricted by his declining health, and along with his agility and stamina in battle his sickness gets the best of him even in the bedroom

And through it all, his burning desire for you was what got him going, what made him spare just a little more energies to later spend with you

The two of you would have to adapt, though, probably changing positions and frequency at which you guys have sex

You might start trying to be the one on top, and he'd guide your every movement while also trying not to lose his mind over just how perfect you look riding him, your every curve bouncing as you move up and down over his cock

He dreams of giving you a baby in those moments, filling you up to the brim, seeing your body get even fuller with your conjoint love. It really saddens him to think that it might never happen

But hope is the last one to die, and he gets his hopes up every time that he comes into your welcoming body, emptying his seed into you, hoping that one day this union will give life to a creature as beautiful as its mother

THIS

Characters, just like people, aren't black and white!! That's the interesting part of a character, the different shades of them, the different aspects.

There's no interesting point in a story where there is pure good vs pure evil and all that kinda stuff. Make a character complex. Give the hero some darkness. Make the villain conflictual. Confuse the readers over who they should root for because it's just too much to unpack at once!!

Especially with anything related to the Dance of Dragons, where literally every single character is equally right and wrong.

Man I love these type of posts

need rhaenicent writers to lock the FUCK in and write alicent and otto’s relationship properly like LOOK AT THIS……..look at how they embrace each other……i don’t want evil otto with no motivations but be tradcath and mean to alicent……..i want deeply layered sexually repressed bicurious evil otto who hurts alicent so much and still loves her so deeply the poison needs to drip through what the fuck

REQUESTS ARE OFFICIALLY CLOSED

I'm sorry everyone, but I've got 14 requests waiting already and with the little time I've got lately it'd be impossible to keep up with all of them.

I'll probably reopen them once I've finished the ones in my drafts, though!

NOT A REQUEST BUT HEAR ME OUT, THIS IS PURE BRAINROT

Having Baldwin with someone who's a knight, his face is pretty much as bad or even worse condition compared to the king himself so he covers it with his helmet. Idk i just keep imagining my knight OC carrying Baldwin around when the leprosy is acting up

Ohhh that's a nice concept!!

I'd like to think that having to grow up with leprosy and coming to terms with the damage it had caused him, Baldwin would be used to looking at people beyond their physical appearance.

It would honestly be an amazing dynamic, or at least I think so since I'm honestly a sicker for that knight + noble romantic trope.

Feel free to text me about your scenarios and your OC in the future, I'd love to hear more of your ideas💗💗

Oh shit I forgot about that part.

Well at least they were equal, not an adult killing a child (I apologise for my terrible memory lmao)

It's crazy how after both playing the Arcana and studying ancient history I can confidently say that Count Lucio is basically the same as Emperor Augustus.

I mean, their lives are so similar it's scary.

Both weren't rightfully meant to become leaders of a kingdom/empire/city, but they got that title thanks to another important figure that owned that power before them and passed it down to them.

They brought peace and promoted their victories and their right to command through art and games (the Latins used to say "panem et circenses" which literally means "bread and circus <games>", indicating that the best way to command with the support of the people was through food and fun times, which for both Vesuvia and Rome meant gladiators and Arenas).

Nobody talks about this but Augustus KILLED HIS HALF BROTHER, he threw Caesar and Cleopatra's child down a goddamn window to secure his right to the throne- and he's still remembered as a hero and the one that brought peace to the people of Rome!!!!

Also let's not mention that he wanted to promote the traditional family values yet he got married three times and left one of his wives with a message right after she had his baby. Like, baby popped out, message arrives: "yo we're divorced now".

Like, is Count Lucio that bad compared to THIS?

Hi! I'm not sure if you are currently taking requests, so feel free to ignore mine if you aren't! If you are taking them, however, would you please write something for King Baldwin IV overhearing reader sing and falling further in love with her because of her soft and sweet voice? Upon realizing that he's there, she becomes extremely flustered and apologizes for disrupting his peace and quiet. Thank you!

King Baldwin IV x reader - Sweetest of melodies

A/N: omg it’s been so long since I’ve received a request! I can’t lie, Baldwin is my supreme comfort character, I think I’ll never stop writing fro him because it gives me sooo much joy😩😩😩 I personally like to think of this piece as taking place a few months after Baldwin’s and reader’s wedding, so it could be considered a sequel for my first fic ever. Also, the song mentioned in this piece is a real song from the 12th century called "Can vei la lauzeta" (in English,"When I see the lark") by Bernart de Ventadorn, and the painting is "Lovers in a garden" by Charles Edward Perugini!!

Oh btw!! I’m working on a long ass series about him, based off of a prompt by @phantomsghoulette  which I absolutely LOVED. Sooo all the KoH fans stay tuned for future updates🤭

Warning: nothing really, just pure fluff. Maybe you could say that religious innuendos could be something triggering for some people but I don’t know. There might be ONE, SLIGHTLY spicy mention but only if you squint really really hard. Also, keep in mind that the historical accuracy in my fics is rather relative, I try to add some details here and there but I don’t have the knowledge (nor the skills) to write a piece 100% accurate to the real history. Also, reader’s gender is female and uses she/her pronouns!!

Word count: 2918

Someone would say Baldwin's patience could already be put to test by only his illness, which she ruthlessly does not grant him a moment's respite, the eternal enemy of his body and his spirit. But no, to this perpetual torment of his had to be added the perilous duties of a king. And it was certainly not governing his people and lands that sucked what little energy he had left; this duty of his, given by his father and willed by divine design, he had long since embraced.

It was the nobles, the leeches who had drained him of his lifeblood lately. It was their endless demands, the insidious words that hissed behind his back, the languid bows and sleazy gifts designed only to gain some favor from him. Looking around him, he seemed to see only vices and sinners, power-hungry beasts just waiting for his moment of weakness so they could feed on what Baldwin had under his power.

In fact, not without reason in the past the young monarch had attempted to abdicate the throne and leave it in the hands of one of his sisters, rid himself of this burden and devote the rest of his short life taking care of his declining health and to nurture his mind away from so much corruption. At times he dreamed of retiring to France, experiencing for the first time that cold climate and verdant landscape of which his preceptors and advisors told him so much.

In fact, not without reason in the past the young monarch had attempted to abdicate the throne and leave it in the hands of one of his sisters, rid himself of this burden and devote the rest of his short life taking care of his declining health and to nurture his mind away from so much corruption. At times he dreamed of retiring to France, to experience for the first time that cold climate and verdant landscape of which his preceptors and advisors told him so much.

And he dreamed of taking you with him, imagined how sweet his life would be if his only concerns were taking care of his health and you, faithful wife, sole blessing in his life battered by such burdens. How he would wish that his days would revolve around you, that his first thought in the morning would be riding by your side through the flourishing meadows, and his last thought in the evening would be caressing your face as you lie slumbering in his arms.

It would have been a blissful fate his, if only Sybilla's husband had not died at the very moment when he would have needed him most. If only his mother had not convinced him that Guido de Lusignan was a good fit for his sister and had continued to seek a new consort for her, perhaps that fate would not have been snatched from him so early. Too late to repent now, for Baldwin would have preferred to die agonizingly on his throne rather than leave power in the hands of that bumptious and arrogant lord, who was noble only in title.

And so he found himself in this sort of hellish limbo, forced into a position that should never be required of a man in his condition, but prevented by his morality from abandoning his reign, impelled by faith in God's greater plan, that his suffering should not be in vain.

And his faith always seemed to strengthen when he had a way to escape the stifling air that characterized the throne room, always packed with knights and crusaders and nobles, when he had a way to retreat to the palace gardens, one of the few verdant places in all of Jerusalem.

With slow, swaying steps, Baldwin strolled slowly among the local palm trees and flower beds from the faraway lands, those where men speak Italian and the more distant ones, those from which his fathers came. Exotic fruits mingled with those more congenial to the French, who out of nostalgia for their lands and fields did what they could to bring the seeds of these plants with them to overseas.

His mind seemed to go out, shifting his attention from the constant buzz of court demands and duties to the chirping of birds perched on the roof, to the eviction of the soft branches that shielded him from the scorching sun. He enjoyed the refreshing air that reigned in that small oasis of greens, which was able to infiltrate the fabric of his white robes, crossing the bandages that covered much of his body and finally reaching his skin, numbed by leprosy. 

To tell the truth, of that refreshing sensation little reached his damaged nerves, if not for those few points that had been spared by the merciless disease, from which departed that unusual shiver that caused him a delicate smile of relief, enjoying the refreshing breeze. Then he closed his eyes and breathed in, discovering with satisfied surprise that that light gust was also a harbinger of an intoxicating perfume, a mixture of exotic and familiar.

How funny to think of the concept of "exotic", for an Angevin born and raised in the unknown lands of the east. For him it was exotic French fruit, exotic were the green plains and heavy clothing that brought his allies from the northwest, and equally alien to the snowy mountains and forest beasts that he saw drawn in detail in his childhood books. It was these changes of perspective that stimulated his mind in a myriad of thoughts and reflections, but in a pleasurable way for him, not as exhausting as his daily duties.

His reflections on exotic and local made his mind travel, wandering until he came to a subject very close to him: Muslims and Jews, reflecting well on the landscape in front of him, recognized that he could share with them the same concepts of what is foreign and what they can claim the original belonging. And he could not but reflect on how it must have been for the first inhabitants of Jerusalem to observe the Franks who came as conquerors, and filled their gardens with such foreign plants as those pale warriors who had taken possession of their dwelling... But after all, the French soldiers who were emissaries of God’s will needed something familiar to stabilize them as they fought to reclaim the Promised Land, ut Deus voluit.

But all his brooding over these matters of conquest and submission ended up in the background in his mind, when a colorful scarlet sphere caught his attention. An exquisitely red apple seemed to tempt him from a branch just above his head, beckoning him to be picked and savored by the king, that he might lose himself in the juicy sweetness of that fruit with origins so far removed from the Holy Land. But the king's modesty prevented him from yielding to that temptation, wanting to avoid exposing the advanced state of deterioration in which his mouth was.

And in fact if that temptation had been alive it would have pale in front of something much more captivating, a sound that echoed in the most melodious distance of the song of any nightingale. Baldwin was surprised to think that he had not realized before the melody that inibriated the atmosphere around him, so taken by the tribulations of his mind that he almost missed such an intoxicating song. He did not know what he felt once he arrived in Heaven, if he had ever arrived in spite of the unjust fate in Hell that the evil Saracens wished him. He didn’t know it, but if one ever had to imagine what Heaven sounded like, that song would come to mind.

When I see the lark beating 

Its wings in joy against the rays of the sun 

That it forgets itself and lets itself fall 

Because of the sweetness that comes to its heart

She sang in Occitan, the beautiful one in the distance. The voice of his people, of his lineage, that few in the palace can pronounce after so many years of distance from their homeland in Provence. Paying more attention to the echoing song, he would not even have had to approach it to give a face to that melodic voice: he knew how to recognize his wife’s voice.

Yet it was a new context in which he saw you, new facets of you that he had not yet had a chance to observe. Your voice, sweet as honey, venerable like all your other traits, he had never heard it except in speech, when you were proclaiming orders before your subjects with the authority fit for a queen, or when you laughed at the poems and performances of the court singers, or when you whispered in Baldwin’s ears sweet words, while you lay with bodies merged between the soft silk sheets. Always spoken, but never sung.

Alas! Such great envy then overwhelms me 

Of all those whom I see rejoicing,

But though he didn’t need to approach you to recognize you, the desire to see your face exceeded any of his other needs. As if mesmerized by the sound of a siren, Baldwin was advancing towards you, with steps so slow that it seemed a hunter about to catch a deer in the woods. He wanted nothing more than to hear you sing again, that you continue to bless him with that angelic melody. What worse sin would there be than to interrupt your song, more sacred than a prayer?

His stomach filled with butterflies and turned upside down like the beasts' jugglers, his breath seemed to stop in his throat, depriving him of the breath he no longer needed, as long as he could hear you sing a moment more. And her cheeks warmed, when finally she saw you among the white lilies, more beautiful than divine salvation.

I wonder that my heart, at that moment, 

Does not melt from desire.

Baldwin wondered if you sang with him in mind, if those words of love reflected your own emotional turmoil. 

Oh, if only it were so, and your singing equalled his own words inscribed in the sonnets and poems he composed in your honor, which he himself commissioned from your favorite singers to perform at banquets, only to steal an embarrassed smile and to see the blush of your cheeks, along with the glint in your eyes.

Whether it was or not, the outcome remained the same since he was at that moment in your proximity, in the same state mixed with adoration, love and wonder at the bold gesture. But if only he had confirmation from your words...

Alas! How much I thought I knew 

About love, and how little I know, 

Because I cannot keep myself from loving 

The one from whom I will gain nothing.

"My angel, your voice sounds like heaven but your words are false." Baldwin practically saw you blow up from your session, completely taken aback by his sudden appearance, unaware that your husband has been acting as a secret public all this time. Your initial surprise quickly turns into a laugh to mask your embarrassment for being caught in a moment like this, when you thought you were alone to be able to run the streets of music with your voice.

"I beg your pardon, I thought I was alone in the gardens," your eyes met his own only for a moment, before you turned your face to try and hide the blush of your face, "it was just a silly song I heard singing to the Provençal knights. I hope I did not disrupt your walk, my love..”

He laughed softly, trying to hide his amusement from having caught you off guard. He approached you more quickly than when he did just a few moments before, but with the same phlegm that managed to inspire a feeling of safeness in you. Sitting by your side on the bare rock, he raised his bandaged hand to gently cup your face and make you turn your eyes towards him. It was only then, when you had no choice but to look at Baldwin in the face that you noticed how his eyes, the only part of his face exposed to the outside world, formed two half-moons, and you came to find that it was because of how widely he was smiling, as you lowered the veil from his face. 

He was making fun of you, you realized. With that swagger in his manner, you understood that his amusement came from your embarrassment at that silly misunderstanding. Laughing softly, he gently shook his head before bringing both hands to your face, holding it as if it were the most sacred of relics. "As much as I would love to hear you sing of your affection for me, just to hear your voice echoing in the air is the sweetest of gifts. How could you deprive me of this blessing thus far, my dear?"

You could do nothing but giggle at his sweet words, bringing your hands to his wrists to feel him closer to you. "You flatter me, my king. My voice boasts nothing more than those sweet melodies that the singers in the palace sing. Mine is only a dabble."

His gaze softened, his playful spirit addicted to your presence. He took the floor again, in a tone as soft as cotton, "At least this once, my queen, allow me to disagree with your words. My life may be short and my reality small, but never have I heard such an angelic voice, singing such sweet melodies. And God may not yet have granted me the ability to predict the future, but in my heart I know well that never will any singer be able to hold a candle to your beautiful voice, never will any song be able to express the same feeling of ecstasy.

"You, my angel, have managed to make a simple ballad an absolute work of art through your voice. I think I should take you with me into battle next time, for with your mere voice you could addict Saladin and his entire army.

"And seeing you here, angelic and perfect like the lilies that surround you, singing so softly that it would make any bird jealous, that I realize that whatever toil, whatever challenges God has stored up for me, and all those that still await me in my life, are worth it, if at the end of each of them there is you, voice of an angel, to hold a place for me in your arms of heaven." 

You were sure you were on the verge of crying a flood of tears, the result of pure emotion at his sweet words. It was not new to you that Baldwin worshipped you as much as the God to whom his kingdom was consecrated, from the first moment he got to hear your voice and admire your face, and you knew at once that he had become yours, body and soul. But it was new to you to see him like that, completely entranced by your simple being-it was something new. A wonderful newness that made you feel like the most desired of women on this earth.

Taken by a rush of boldness, you practically jumped into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck; you ended up on top of him, with his hands around your hips. You both laughed, like two little boys frolicking in the gardens. And you left a kiss on his left cheek, then on the bridge of his nose. A kiss again on his forehead, and then down on the side of his lips. When you were about to give him another kiss, just where he most yearned for your lips, against his, you stopped a few inches away, with a wide smile, before speaking again, "If so little is enough to make your happiness, then I will sing to you every day, whenever you ask. Let me be your nightingale, your morning song and your lullaby all at once!"

"I couldn't wish for anything else, my dear. Now, however, I beg you, sing one more melody for me, before my duties drag me back to the palace, and I shall consider myself a blessed man."

"With great pleasure, my love." Your voice was now little more than a whisper. With a languid movement, Baldwin moved his body to rest his head on your lap, and you eagerly greeted him. After slightly moving the hood that veiled his head, so that you could play with his golden locks, you began to sing a new melody, one that this time spoke of reciprocated love, of the joy of being able to hold your loved one in your arms. But the words you sang barely reached Baldwin before his sky-colored eyes closed softly, his mind giving him at least a moment's despite from his perilous life. You continued to sing, caressing his face, which from day to day appeared more and more mutilated by his disease, singing the sweetest of melodies so as to prolong this idyll in which you and your husband found yourselves in. 

For with you Baldwin had a way of putting the crown aside, and being nothing more than a foolish young man in love, whose only duty was to love you, to love you with all the love that an angel like you deserved.

@sweetworkoffiction hope you like it <3