#badlwin iv drabble

[iiseult]

Oooh open requests! May I have King Baldwin with a wife reader who sweetly helps him treat his wounds regardless of how he tells her not to come into direct contact with his skin? Please, do it nice and fluffy, if it's not too much trouble! Thank you!

Wedding Night: Baldwin IV x reader

CWs → fluff, probable historical inaccuracies, she/her pronouns, leprosy, christianity and mentions of god, reader and baldwin just got married!

Note: This is the first request I've ever responded to! Thank you so much for sending it in, I really hope you enjoy! <3 Also this was supposed to be a drabble but I got carried away

Wordcount: 2k

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Baldwin was laying on his stomach with his bandaged arms and legs stretched out across the large mattress, and his face nuzzled into a plush pillow. The day had been strenuous for him, requiring much more standing than he was accustomed to, and his body ached terribly. Though originally just on his hands and face, the disease had recently spread up past his wrist and onto a small patch of his back, causing an uncomfortable burning sensation every time his clothing brushed against it. He was waiting for his physician to arrive and apply his nightly soothing salve, which usually helped to relieve some of the discomfort that resulted from the intense dryness of his skin. But when the door opened, instead of his physician, it was you. 

Hastily, he sat up, looking around to find something to cover himself with. Besides the bandages wrapped around his ribcage, arms, and the middle of his face, the only thing he had on was a pair of white linen shorts. You covered your mouth and giggled as he scrambled to grab his robe from the nearby chair it was draped over.

“My lord, that really won’t be necessary. I’m only going to take it right back off once you put it on,” you said playfully, closing the door behind you and sauntering towards him. You were carrying a small basket in your left hand. He furrowed his brow and instinctually clutched the fabric to his chest, hoping it covered most of his exposed skin. A wave of heat rushed to his head, and he suddenly felt a bit dizzy.  

“Lady Y/N– I mean, Your Highness, what are you doing here?” he asked, his voice betraying his mild panic as his eyes followed you across the bedroom. You had changed out of your wedding gown in favor of a tightly fitting dress of a deep emerald green and a low neckline– typical attire for a bride on her wedding night. Heat rose to his cheeks as he admired his new queen’s attractive figure, on display just for him. He really hadn’t been expecting this. You had to know that, given his condition, consummating the marriage would be more trouble than it was worth, and attempting to sire an heir with him would be a completely fruitless endeavor. Why, then, were you standing before him, looking like the very picture of grace and beauty? You smiled gently at him, setting down the basket and taking a seat on the edge of the bed. 

“Let me help you. Please, lie back down so I can take those bandages off,” you murmured, trying to keep your voice as even as possible. You waited a moment, but he only gawked, eyes still shamelessly concentrating on your choice of wardrobe. You sighed and placed a hand over his bandaged one, looking deeply into his eyes. 

“I promise I’ll be gentle.” 

He hummed sadly, shaking his head no, knowing he could not give you what you wanted. 

“I believe that you would, but I cannot allow it. If you were to come into contact with my bare skin…” he trailed off. You bit your lip. You knew he wouldn’t agree to it. 

He noticed your disappointment, and his eyes softened a little. 

“Look at you, your skin is so pure…if anything were to happen to it on my account, I could never forgive myself. Not only because of the pain it would inflict upon you, but also for my own selfish reasons.” He spoke slowly, letting his words sink in. 

“My wife, you are so beautiful, and so smart. You have so much to give, and you are everything I am not. If you were to put yourself at risk of becoming like me, you would be condemning yourself to a short, bitter life of wasted potential. Though I may not be long for this world, I want to spend the remainder of my days admiring you and all that you bring. Please do not forsake the gifts God has given you for fleeting desires of the flesh,” he begged. His blue eyes were so wide, pleading, swimming with genuine emotion, but it wasn’t enough to break you. You knew what you wanted.

“Baldwin,” you said, addressing him directly for the first time, “Just this once, please. Let me do this for you.” 

You tugged lightly at the fabric bunched up in his grasp. He resigned, allowing you to pull it away and discard it at the foot of the bed, leaving his mostly bare chest exposed to your intimate gaze. No woman had ever seen this much of him before. He watched as your eyes traced his body, beginning at his delicate neck and protruding collar bones, then down to the smooth expanse of creamy skin covering his chest, and finally to his well-defined middle. Those parts of him had yet to be contaminated by his affliction. You had yet to ever come into contact with his bare skin, but the way you were studying him, he could almost feel the sweet sensation of your fingertips ghosting over his body. 

“Y/N, I’m sorry if you had hopes of…enjoying a true wedding night with me, but I must be honest with you, even if it does cause me great pain and regret-” 

You hushed him quietly, clasping his hand in yours a little tighter. 

“No, my love, you don’t have to explain to me. I understand. That is not what I came for. I simply wanted to take care of my husband.” You smiled, the corners of your eyes crinkling as you gazed down at him lovingly. He let out a breath and untensed his shoulders, relieved that he wasn’t letting you down after all. The sight of you smiling down at him with all the love in the world melted his heart, and his resolve broke. 

“Alright. But please promise me you will cleanse yourself thoroughly afterwards. We must do everything we can to prevent the spread,” he whispered, dropping his hand to allow you to have your way with him. 

Slowly, carefully, you reached for him, stretching your fingertips out and finally grazing them against the middle of his chest. He inhaled sharply, watching in awe. Your touch was feather-light, but it sent a spark of heat straight to his heart. His skin tingled. Gently, you applied a bit of pressure, encouraging him to lay back. He stared into your eyes and refused to look anywhere else as he readjusted his position, locks of blond hair shifting away from his brow as he reclined.

“That’s it, just like that. Perfect. Now, just relax, I brought some oils and salves for you. I’m going to take this bandage off now, okay?” You said, reaching for his wrapped hand. He nodded, and you slowly began unwinding the linens, peeling them away to reveal the most decayed part of his body; his right hand. Any skin left intact on it was shaded by a grayish hue, and the rest was just angry, red, open sores. You fought the urge to wince, not because it disgusted you, because it didn’t, but because you empathized with Baldwin, feeling the pain he must have felt in that moment. The bandages you removed were dotted with blood and other secretions from the angry wounds. 

You continued unraveling, all the way up his arm, and its condition gradually improved the further up you got. Then you moved to the other arm, repeating the same process. Soon, it was time to attend to the linens coiled around his torso, protecting the rash on his back. 

“Can you sit up for me, please?” 

He wordlessly obeyed, watching you work through his curtain of fine, golden hair. You scooted over until you were fully seated on the bed, face to face with him. He was suddenly glad for the bandage covering most of his cheeks and nose, so you didn’t detect the blush rapidly spreading across them. 

You reached around with your left arm and placed your cool palm against his shoulder blade to steady him as you pulled away the bandages. He sat as still as possible, not sure what to do with himself. His heart was about to beat out of his chest. Your hand was so soft, so slow…it was lulling him into a trance. He sighed deeply, letting the air roll all the way through his lungs. You deftly unweaved the bandage with your delicate fingers, working swiftly to avoid any discomfort that the pulling might cause him. Soon, all that remained was his face. 

Wordlessly, you slid a hand up the back of his neck and cradled his head in your palm, threading your fingers through his curls. He let his head fall back, confident that you would support him, and closed his eyes. A quiet rumble emanated from the back of his throat when he felt your fingertips brush his forehead. Then, you peeled off the last bandage, finally exposing the sensitive skin of his face to the cool evening air. 

Yes, his complexion was blemished and inflamed, as you expected. His nose was red and dry, some of the skin flaking off completely. His lips were in much the same condition. A smattering of pink blotches covered his handsome cheeks. But to you, nobody had ever looked closer to perfect. You grinned and cupped his face between your hands, gently circling your thumb over his cheek. His pretty blue eyes crinkled up at the corners as he smiled back, letting out a short laugh he never meant to let out. 

“You are such a beautiful boy, Baldwin. I love seeing your smile so much,” you said, tracing his bottom lip. That smile only grew as he closed his eyes in bliss. Your warmth was almost too much for him to handle. 

“I’m going to apply the salve now, okay?” you asked, gently laying his head down on his pillow and reaching for a bottle from your basket. 

“Mhmm,” he hummed contentedly. The smell of lavender and chamomile permeated the air as you scooped up a large blob of the salve and gently smeared it over his cheekbones. He sighed in relief as soon as it touched his parched skin, his pink lips parting. Soon, his face had absorbed most of the moisture, making him glisten in the candlelight like he was made of porcelain, and you moved onto his back, having him turn over. You ran your hands over the plains of his shoulder blades, massaging the tissue to help relieve any aches that may have built up. He groaned into the pillow in satisfaction. You smiled, continuing your ministrations. 

Needless to say, Baldwin had never experienced anything remotely similar to this before. The way you handled him and didn’t shy away from coming into direct contact with the most afflicted parts of his body made his stomach do flips. Maybe he could get used to this. 

‘I think I’m all done, my king. You can turn back over,” you said softly, putting the cork back in your bottle and stowing it away in the basket. Baldwin stretched leisurely and rolled over, hair partially obscuring his half-lidded eyes and crooked smile. He suddenly looked so young; only eighteen years old and he had already led an army. 

“Thank you, love,” he murmured, reaching out to grab your hand, bravely intertwining your fingers. He figured the damage had already been done, and there was no harm in a few more precious seconds of warmth. So he swiftly lifted your hand and pressed it to his delicate lips, almost burning your skin with the lingering passion in his touch. 

Now it was your turn to blush.