#king baldwin smut

[iiseult]

Hello, I was wondering what the life of the female reader would be like when King Baldwin was not a leper. I mean, what would their life be like together as a married couple?

𝐵𝒶𝓁𝒹𝓌𝒾𝓃 𝐼𝒱 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈: 𝒩𝑜𝓃-𝓁𝑒𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝐸𝒹𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃

CWs → fluff, smut, probable historical inaccuracies, she/her pronouns, afab reader, mentions of religion, childbirth

Note: I know this took like over a month to get to, but in my defense I was working on completing the first arc of my multichapter Baldwin x reader fic. Also, if anyone’s interested, I started posting an alternate version of that on ao3 that’s in third person and from the perspective of a girl named Semele. As far as actual writing goes I think it’s much better quality simply because I don’t have to do all that corny second person bullshit or use the words “Y/N.” That’s a real pain in my ass. Anyway! 

Wordcount: 852

King Baldwin’s standards are high. He is a gorgeous young man with the world at his fingertips and he wants a woman, not a girl, to explore it with him. 

She must be good. She does not need to be rich or noble, but she needs to be selfless and kind and bold. And he needs someone who can match him in intellect so he doesn’t get bored. 

His hair frames his face in charming golden waves that fall to about his chin. His eyes are a deep cerulean, lined by long lashes, and his lips are pink and shapely, if a bit on the thin side. The nose is strong and straight, the jaw is square and sharp, the cheekbones are high and structured, and the skin covering it all is smooth and healthy. A light smattering of tiny freckles paint his nose and cheeks. His body is strong, with substantial broad shoulders, and what muscle he has is subtle but genuine. 

Sometimes his movements are awkward, a little different from other well-bred boys his age, and perhaps that’s what makes him so appealing. So mysterious. And, by the way, he certainly is appealing. 

Every woman that lays eyes on him, and even some that have never had that honor and know of him only from word of mouth, want him. Every woman thinks she can somehow be good enough for him. Of course, maybe one in one thousand of them actually is. 

When a lady finally catches his eye, it would be for her wit or her bravery. Perhaps she would beat him in a game of chess, or speak out against what she thinks is wrong. The more cruelty in her smile, the more attractive she becomes. 

When he proposes, it’s very romantic, very personal, and above all, very private. Though he surely makes the experience memorable for his future wife, he doesn’t do anything over-the-top. It does not involve other people, and perhaps it doesn’t even take place at a particular spot. The most important part of the proposal, after all, is the words he is speaking, the vow he is making. He puts his silver tongue to good use, so that saying no isn’t even an option anymore. How could she possibly turn him down? 

 He can’t wait to get his hands on her. The wedding night is something he has long been looking forward to, knowing that it would be worth it to wait for the right woman, and of course, it exceeds his expectations. How could he have guessed how soft, how supple her flesh would feel beneath him? How sweet and yielding? There was nothing that could have prepared him for the feeling of warmth that wholly enveloped him the first time they made love. It was something that could never be recreated by his own hand. It could only ever occur by the soft hand, or the cruel, relentless lips of his young wife. 

His body is young and robust, as is hers, and they are both brimming with passion and want. The first month of the marriage is spent mostly alone together, trapped in an endless cycle of tiring each other out, sleeping, waking, and doing the whole damned thing all over again. It would take no time at all for the seed to be planted in her fertile womb and a baby to begin to grow. 

Seeing his wife pregnant would only make him fall in love with her more, if such a thing were even possible. Now she is carrying a little miracle inside her, and to him, the world around her positively glows. He is, in a word, infatuated. So proud. He takes her into town and practically parades her around, the curve of her swollen belly growing more and more obvious under the fabric of her gown. Isn’t she beautiful, he would say to Raymond, and to Sybilla, and to anyone else who was unlucky enough to engage him in conversation. 

During the birth, he stayed by her side. He was the one to wipe the sweat from her forehead with damp towels, to hold her hand and cry softly from seeing her in such pain. He loves her so much, and he was going to love that baby, too. He was going to positively spoil it. That is, if it didn’t kill her! He cries more than she does during the birth, and though he does everything he can to ease her pain and help the midwife speed along the process, mostly he can do nothing but stand around and wring his hands and look helplessly at his love, his eyes swimming with wild fear and affection and awe. She’s so strong, how is she doing it? 

Once the baby is born, though the sheets of her bed are soiled with various fluids, he lays down next to his wife and holds her in his arms and she holds their baby in her arms, and they all sleep, a perfect family. The baby is going to look just like her, he thinks, and he will love it. 

[flowerandblood]

Paradise Fruit (1)

[ Kingdom of Heaven • King Baldwin x female ]

[ warnings: watching each other masturbate, soft, poetic smut, a detailed description of the deadly disease and the unpleasant symptoms associated with it ]

[ description: After being treated by King Saladin's physicians, King Baldwin begins to leave his chambers. The people of the court whisper around her that the young ruler will not even live to be thirty years old. As a lady of waiting of his sister, she attracts his attention. ]

Author's Note: I said it and I did it: I know this isn't your typical Ewan Mitchell character, but I couldn't resist. I'm glad I wrote this because I had too many thoughts after watching this movie and now my soul is at peace! For those who haven't seen Kingdom of Heaven, I highly recommend it, it's an amazing production.

Word count: 3.900

Part 2 – White Marriage

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

Jerusalem seemed to her at once a paradise and a hell on earth, both beautiful, sublimely sacred, as much as broken, dirty and cruel. The reign of King Baldwin IV was a reign of restraint and peace, the greatest evidence of which was his rich diplomatic correspondence with King Saladin himself.

Baldwin gave permission for the Muslim part of Jerusalem to hold prayers as it wished, on payment of appropriate taxes – a huge step towards reconciling the city's disparate population and a cause of contention among the Christian knights.

As lady of the court, she accompanied the royal sister, Sibylla, like her shadow, serving her with conversation, reading books in her company, being the equivalent of her friend and confidante, watching over her welfare.

She was the third daughter, and was therefore a burden to her lord father, who sent her to Jerusalem to the royal court when she was thirteen. Her father hoped that Sibylla herself would find her a suitable husband and put up the coins for her dowry, allowing her family to glory on the Old Continent in the fact that her chosen one was favoured by the God in the Holy Land.

Looking at Princess Sibylla's marriage, she prayed that she would never meet her fate, preferring to eventually fade into old age in a monastery.

Her Lady abhorred her husband: not in a physical context, for he was not unlike other great knights in stature or appearance, but in his heart, which was filled with the lust for power.

Although he believed that he was acting in the name of Christ on the Earth, he represented neither his mercy nor his prudence, being a simply unkind and spiteful man.

Sibylla was given in marriage to him at the age of 15, and she watched her sufferings and humiliations in silence, only being able to allow herself occasionally to close her hand on hers, giving her encouragement.

It was known that her husband's dream was the death of the King, for it would then be his wife who would become heir to the throne. Someone might laugh at this wish, knowing that King Baldwin was only 16 years old when she arrived at court.

However, despite such a young age, it was known that the King would probably not live to see his thirtieth year.

The cruel disease that had descended upon his body when he was still a young child, leprosy, was the reason why his whole body was covered, and his face was adorned with a beautiful silver mask – the only thing visible through it were his eyes, bright and wise, the skin around his eyelids all red.

His sister despaired at his undeserved suffering, at the thought that his body was falling apart, his skin peeling and pulling away from his muscles, causing him excruciating pain. He could not touch anyone or be touched directly because his disease was contagious.

Thus, one of the greatest rulers of Jerusalem, a man who had accomplished the impossible and ushered, at least for a while, the Kingdom of Heaven into this forbidden holy land, suffered daily torment.

As she prayed for the health of her family and his sister, she also prayed for him – since Christ was able to miraculously cure lepers, as the Bible itself said, perhaps there was hope for him too.

As a sign of respect and friendship, the Muslim King Saladin sent a retinue of his best physicians to relieve the King of his pain, which must have helped at least to some extent, for although she had previously only seen him in audience standing by his sister's side, now the King began to walk through the palace gardens on his own.

One day, when Sibylla noticed him standing next to one of the monks, she approached him immediately, praising his name, and she moved humbly to follow her, feeling grateful at the thought that the King was indeed feeling better.

That perhaps her prayers had been answered.

"Brother. It rejoices me to see you in the fresh air, away from the suffocating comfort of your chambers full of books and parchments." Sibylla said, pulling her shawl from her mouth, revealing her face to her brother.

As a married woman, she covered her face out of sheer decency, as her husband was a jealous man, but she, as a maiden, in addition almost always being in the presence of her Lady, did not have to do so.

"Your judgement is too harsh, dear sister. Books and parchments are my solace in the hardest of times." He said calmly and lazily, effortlessly – it was the first time she had heard his voice this close and she thought the words coming out of his mouth were like humming.

He had a white linen cloth draped over his head that reminded her of the headgear of the pharaohs, a richly embroidered white robe and gloves on his body, a silver mask portraying the features of a handsome, masculine man on his face.

She swallowed hard as his gaze shifted to her, catching her looking shamelessly at her ruler's face, causing her to lower her head immediately.

"Let's take a walk. We should take advantage of the beautiful weather." Said his sister, wanting to take his arm, he however moved away immediately and shook his head.

Pain and sadness crossed Sibylla's face, but after a moment she only nodded and forced herself to smile, walking ahead with him, letting her and the King's servant walk a few steps behind them.

That evening, for the first time, the King summoned her.

"Do not fret." Sibylla said. "My brother is a man of decency and sensitivity. Rest assured, he will not set upon your virtue or force you to do things unworthy of a lady. He confessed to me that he would like to look at your face for at least a moment longer and asked me to convey his wish to you, indicating that you may refuse."

She looked at her in disbelief, feeling the blush of embarrassment appear on her cheeks at her words, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad.

"If it is the will of our beloved King, I will do so." She said, and Sibylla nodded, giving her one satisfied smile.

She wore her most beautiful robe and hair adornments as if she were about to attend a nuptials – the material cast over her body was blue, fastened at the shoulders and waist with golden buckles, in her hair at the sides jewellery resembling a wreath of laurel leaves.

As she entered his chamber, candles burned all around, she was also struck by the intense scent of lavender – she noticed immediately his white, seated figure bent over thick tomes. His head turned towards her, in his mask she was able to see the reflection of everything around him.

"Do not be afraid. Come closer." He said softly and she nodded, feeling her heart flutter in her chest like a bird.

Her footsteps on the stone floor echoed through his chamber, the rustling of her robe as she sat down opposite him made her sound similar to the rustling of leaves.

She swallowed hard as she watched him sigh and spread out comfortably in his chair, looking her straight in the eye – she immediately looked away, unaccustomed to such confidentiality with anyone.

"No." He said. "Don't deny me this pleasure."

She tightened her fingers on the material of her garment, lifting her gaze to him again, feeling herself involuntarily begin to breathe through her mouth.

She could see the calm and curiosity in his eyes – his head was tilted slightly to one side, as if he was thinking about something, silence all around him.

"I'm making you uncomfortable." He concluded.

She shook her head quickly, horrified, thinking that something in her posture or gaze had discouraged him.

"No, Your Grace. I just don't know how to behave. What is appropriate for me to do or say in your presence. Silence is safe." She confessed in shame, lowering her eyes to her fingers again, reminding herself after a moment that she should not do so.

The King hummed at her words.

"Do not take my words as my attempt to mock you, however, knowing how little time I have left in this wretched world has made me tread lightly in courtly etiquette." He said with amusement, not taking his eyes off her, something flashed in his gaze as if someone had lit a candle inside them.

"We waste time feigning care and respect, hiding what is true, arising from the depths of our hearts, because that is what etiquette demands of us. When we stand before God, will we say to him: I have never really loved or sympathised, but my lips have left many beautiful, great words?" He asked, and she looked at him in disbelief, completely surprised by his approach and what she had heard.

Some part of her knew he was right.

"In this world, only the King can afford to lack beautiful words." She muttered, hearing after a moment that something akin to a chuckle had left his lips.

"You are mistaken. One word from the King can either create or destroy."

She lowered her head, wondering if he had just rebuked her, he, however, seemed satisfied.

"My reign will end with my death, which will be in a few years at the latest. I will not beget an heir to whom I can pass on my philosophy of ruling, the values that are essential. My sister's husband and his greed will sit on the throne, and Jerusalem will fall." He said calmly, as if he were telling her about the weather, his fingers clad in a white silk glove tapping rhythmically against the table top.

She swallowed hard, feeling a squeeze in her heart, wondering if perhaps the reason he had summoned her was quite different from what she had suspected.

"What shall I do, my King?" She asked, and he laughed again, louder this time, looking at her as if something in her question gave him pleasure.

"Your devotion rejoices my heart. Do not think, however, that you will hear from me an order that would condemn you to eternal damnation. I could not then leave this world in peace. No. I wish that when I disappear, someone will watch over my sister. To help her escape when all is lost here, no matter what her husband will desire. Do you understand what I have in mind?" He asked softly, and she nodded, thinking she felt more respect towards him than ever.

"Yes, my King." She replied.

He smiled at her words, she saw it in his gaze. She lifted her gaze higher, towards the windows by which the shoots of dried lavender hung, surrounding them with a pleasant, refreshing scent.

"I had these beautiful flowers brought in from far away. They mask well the unpleasant ailments of my illness on hot days. The smell of rotting flesh is one of the most disgusting to man, for nature equates it with spoiled food from which he can die." He explained, and she looked at him in disbelief, feeling hot shame ripple through her body at his words.

His suffering must have been unimaginable.

"Knights praise their own greatness and bravery during battles wishing for songs to be sung about them. I, for one, hope to hear songs about Baldwin IV, a wise and prudent King, a merciful Monarch who fought each day with his own suffering and triumphed. I do not know the words that can convey my admiration for your person." She mouthed in a trembling voice, feeling that her hands lying on her thighs were quivering all over with emotion, burning tears for some reason squeezed under her eyelids.

The King looked at her for a long moment in silence, something in his gaze that made her feel a pleasant tingling in her fingertips.

"Your soul is as beautiful as your body. You are like a breath of cool wind on a hot day. I am grateful to you for allowing me to experience this joy."

As she left his chamber, for some reason she burst out crying.

She could not understand why: it seemed to her that her heart squeezed all over in pain, not only out of compassion, but also out of a sense of injustice that a man so great and enlightened was experiencing undeserved torment every day.

Or was it through his ordeal that he became such a man, such a King?

If the gates of the Kingdom of Heaven were to open before anyone in the second life, it was before him, she thought.

That night she could not sleep: she was ashamed of herself for thinking about him. She tried not to pay attention to men, knowing their nature, knowing that they might consider it an invitation on her part to sin.

However, the time she spent with him, although she might perceive his words as ambiguous, seemed to her something almost spiritual, a moment of awakening, as if she had been in a half-sleep until the moment she looked into his eyes.

His gaze would find her in the audience among the other servants and ladies of the court. She knew this because his eyes stopped on her face, and although he listened intently to what his subjects were saying to him, she knew that for that one moment he was focused only on her.

The flutter of her heart shamed her, allowing her to realise that, like a flower, a warm and pleasant feeling was blossoming within her, coming from God.

"You occupy my brother's thoughts. He follows you with his eyes." Said Sibylla as they walked together through the corridors of the great, cold stone fortress.

"It was not my desire to distract him from the affairs of the Kingdom." She confessed with shame, entwining her fingers on her womb, looking sadly at her fingers. His sister snorted at her words.

"Jerusalem is destroying him. It is the Kingdom that is his disease. He has taken upon himself all its sins, purified it. He gave it years of peace and dignity." She said with a pain from which she felt a sting in her heart.

Why was it that whenever she thought of him she wanted to cry?

"I want to relieve him." She said finally, looking at her uncertainly, afraid of how the words sounded when they left her mouth. Sibylla stopped, looking at her with furrowed brows.

"Don't be a fool. My brother will not condemn you to a fate similar to his own."

"There are many ways to experience relief. You said so yourself, Princess."

Sibylla looked at her thoughtfully and after a moment nodded, giving her wordless consent to whatever she wished to do.

The trust she had in her intimidated her.

As the siblings' chambers were next to each other, walking along the corridor from one quarters to the other was not a problem for her – Sibylla dismissed her guards so that no one could see in what negligee she went to the king's chamber.

Her long hair was loose, her body covered only by a thin nightgown, rubbed with fragrant oils, on her shoulders a cashmere shawl with which she covered herself to protect herself from the cold.

When she closed the door behind her and turned to face him, his eyes were wide in shock. He was silent for a moment, clearly not knowing what to say.

"No." He said finally. "Go back to your chamber."

"I have not come to you to sin. Does the sight of me disgust you, my King?" She asked in a trembling voice, feeling that she was breathing heavily through her mouth, her heart pounding like mad in her chest.

She saw something in his gaze that looked like he felt pain, his figure creased slightly, as if he had run out of strength.

"God created you to subject me to the ultimate trial. He is torturing me like Job."

She felt a single, warm, heavy tear run down her cheek at his words, her body trembling all over, hot and cold at the same time with desire, though she did not know what kind or what was causing it.

"God sent me to soothe your suffering." She whispered.

They looked at each other like that for a long moment that lasted an eternity, and only after a while did she realise that his silence was due to the fact that he wanted whatever she was going to do to be due to her free will. Therefore, she moved tentatively towards his bed, on which she saw a clean, snow-white sheets, and lay down on her back, putting her shawl aside.

She looked up at him – his gaze was fixed on her, his silhouette sitting in a chair by the window frozen in stillness, the whiteness of his attire seeming to her to shine amidst the candles and the surrounding darkness of the night.

She swallowed hard, feeling the dryness in her throat as her fingers lifted to the ties of her nightgown – she untied the knot, a pleasant squeeze spreading between her thighs, something sticky beginning to leak from it onto the sheet beneath her buttocks.

"– does what I am doing disgust you, my King? – is it a sin? –" She asked, sliding the thin material off her shoulders in a gentle, soft motion, unashamedly revealing her plump, sweet breasts. His gaze fled to them, as if what he had just seen simultaneously terrified and excited him.

"– looking at you, all I feel is desire – it's me sinning in my mind, not you –" He whispered so that she barely heard him, his hand sliding from the table top to his thigh.

Though she knew it was wrong, her whole body screamed, wanting him to touch her, to check for himself how soft and warm her flesh was, her moist, swollen womanhood, pulsing around nothing in desire.

"– not just you, Your Grace –" She muttered in a trembling voice, shamefully mimicking his movements, her long, small fingers sliding down her belly between her thighs, sinking into her warm folds like the moist flesh of an exotic fruit.

His head bowed as they both made a strange, unnatural sound full of surprise at the same moment, a moan as if they had caused each other pain, but yet all she could feel was a wonderful, hot tingling in her quivering womanhood, in her lips, in her nipples, in the tips of her fingertips.

He did not allow her to look at what he was touching under the material of his robe, she could however see the shape of that part of his body outlined on the material – his manhood was long and fat like a piece of stick, growing larger and larger with each squeeze of his hand.

She threw her head back, imagining feeling something that big inside her, in an involuntary reflex finding with her fingertips her puffy slit, slick and tight, resisting her as she tried to slide it inside her.

"– let me see –" He whispered, as if asking for something dirty, disgusting, repulsive.

She, however, felt only the heat of pleasure at his words shake her body – her thighs involuntarily parted, her legs bent at the knees allowing her nightgown to shamelessly reveal all that only her husband should be able to look at.

She felt tears under her eyelids at the thought of wanting to be his wife.

"– you have my love, my King – you have my heart –" She breathed out, digging her fingers deeper into the delicate structure of her folds, teasing again and again the small bud from which her body went through shivers of wonderful, familiar pleasure.

His eyes were fixed on what was between her thighs, his gaze hazy and hot, his breath heavy, the sound of his hand smacking against his flesh sticky and lewd.

"– like the inside of a ripe fruit – like Eve in paradise –" He breathed out, staring at her as if he were looking at something delightful, accelerating the splats of his hand with a low grunt of pleasure. "– so beautiful –"

She felt a thrill of pleasure shake her, shivers ran through her cheeks, breasts and legs at his words, so shameless and yet poetic, beautiful, like the Song of Songs of King David.

"– her breasts are like two fawns –" She hummed, quoting one of the biblical verses, the gaze of her King again fixed on her face, full of fire, heavenly or infernal. "– like twin fawns of a gazelle that browse among the lilies –"

"– her lips drop sweetness as the honeycomb – milk and honey are under her tongue –" He whispered in reply, quoting another of the songs from the manuscript, making her involuntarily allow her own fingers to invade her insides at last.

She threw her head back with a girlish moan, her free hand gripping the frame of his bed, rolling her hips back and forth, stretching her tight interior with the sticky clicks of her wetness.

"– she is a spring enclosed – a sealed fountain –" He muttered and let out a low, helpless groan of relief, leaning down, his hand lying on the table top clenched into a fist.

She felt a wonderful convulsion shake her body at his words, her fleshy, moist walls beginning to throb and clench around her own fingers.

She imagined that her body had just sucked his seed deep inside her, which would take root in her like a tree, giving him a future and an inheritance.

She moaned as she felt her pleasure reach its peak, seeing for a moment only the darkness before her eyes – her fingers, all wet with her moisture stroked for a moment more the little spot deep inside her, her whole body hot and sweaty from the exertion.

Her release was wonderful and sweet, as if she had tasted the most delicious of fruits.

She opened her eyes and met his gaze, his figure relaxed and spread out comfortably on the chair, his hand laid back on its armrest, his glove sticky with something pearly and shiny.

They breathed loudly for a while, just watching each other – she decided not to cover her body, wanting to give him that pleasure, wishing only his gaze could see her like this.

Bare.

He sighed quietly, cocking his head, his gaze satisfied, indicating that he had clearly made a decision in his heart.

"– I will marry you tomorrow at dawn –"

She blinked and raised herself up on her elbows, horrified.

"– my King – that's not –"

"– I know that this was not your intention – I also know that you will understand that it will be a white marriage, which I will declare to all and sundry – you will not lose your maidenhood – you will not bear me children – the Kingdom will treat you after my death as a saint who stood by the dying King in his misery – when I join my Father in the Heavens, you will be free to remarry –" He explained and she shook her head, feeling offended by his words.

"– I will not take another husband –"

He fell silent and swallowed hard, as if something in the certainty in which she said this moved him deeply.

"– very well – I have only one condition: you will never take off my mask – not even after my death – you will see me as I am only in the Kingdom of Heaven –"

[nebbyy]

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

[historyslittlebish]

Hello. I would like to ask for your permission before I submit a full request.

Do you by any chance accept King Baldwin x Male!Reader request? It might involve NSFW scenario as well.

King Baldwin IV x Male!Guard!Reader One shot NSFW: (Completed!)

a/n: Hi anon and I know I declined but I'll still do it because I feel bad for rejecting, Idk how to write NSFW so it's gonna be bad but i'll do it. I also don't know if this is a scenario you wanted but if you wanna request a different one please do! Also I apologize because I have never watched the movie and I'm not sure how accurate this is.

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Warning: fluff, handjob, occ for our king I think

It was often unheard of, two men in a romantic or sexual relationship. Many thought it was sin, it wasn't something god accepted but they can never really know the answer can they? Why would god let them feel the feelings, why would god allow it to be an option? That is something many people never ponder enough.

Something that a knight named Y/N never pondered until he met with the great king of Jerusalem, Baldwin the IV.

Y/N had been hired as a knight since Baldwin was 12 and Y/N was 15 and a freshly knighted boy. As years past, Y/N was named best soldier in the brackets of the armies. He was agile, quick, resilient, strong, and most of all, loyal.

He was the kings personal guard which he didn't mind at all. He had grown close to the king, enough to get the king to show him his sore ridden face, his scars, his 'ugliness' but to Y/N, he was anything but ugly.

Y/N saw a kind hearted boy and man growing up, intelligent, brave, and strong willed, those were the words Y/N thinks when describing the king, everyone does.

Growing up, he saw Baldwin's determination to become a great king and to overcome his deadly illness. Only one could be truly possible but Baldwin was content, despite being numb to the bone, skin lesions, and more.

Today was like any other. Baldwin had a few things to get done but after that, he could have his peace.

Y/N stood slightly behind the throne Baldwin sat on, staring at the arguing lords and counsel members. Each fighting on whose strategies are better, who's morally righteous, whatever that is available to bicker about.

Y/N heard Baldwin sigh as he raised his hand and made a sound.

Suddenly everyone looked over and quieted down.

"I will meet with Saladin, we shall negotiate peace." Baldwin shifted slightly before hearing one of the older counsel members try to inerject.

"How do we know we can trust that Muslim r-" Baldwin raised his hand once more, immediately silencing the man "He may be Muslim, but we will respect him and treat him with nobility and equality.".

Y/N's heart thumped in his chest at the kings word. The kings kindness and true compassion was incredibly admirable but also making him lust for the king.

The people of the counsel glanced between each other but bowed at the kings words before swiftly making their exit, allowing the two men to be alone and at ease.

Baldwin slowly stood from his throne and looked at Y/N.

Y/N could see the exhaustion in his eyes, his beautiful sky blue eyes. Y/N snapped himself out of his thoughts and kept up a stoic expression.

"What now, my king?" Y/N asked as Baldwin stepped towards him. The king cautiously touched the mans arm and looked deep into his eyes. "I think I require a way to relax before I retire for tonight." As he said this, Baldwin's hand tools Y/N's and slowly led it down to his pelvis area where a little tent formed under his white and gold robes.

"My king.." Y/N breathed as his hand ghosted the man's bulge.

"Make me a happy man, Y/N, I long for your touch." Baldwin's raspy voice murmured as his being was consumed with lust. Y/N doesn't know how a man of God to dare go against him in terms of lust for another male but Y/N can't say he doesn't thoroughly enjoy it.

It doesn't take too long before Y/N helps the king to his quarters and settling on the soft and silky bed.

Y/N helps the king reveal his bulge.

His cock bobbed as soon as it was released from its confines. "Y/N.." Baldwin groans as his hips slightly buck. This is one of those moments when Baldwin thanks the heavens that the feeling in his crotch is not numb or too sore ridden.

Despite the sores, Y/N didn't mind at all. his hungry eyes took in all the kings cock as he played with the tip soaked in pre-cum.

Baldwin groaned as he sat half laying down as the man continued to fiddle with his manhood. Y/N loved the sweet sounds the king was making as he felt himself nearing his peak.

The man let out a loud moan as his semen spilled into the mans hand. As the king came down his high he stared at Y/N in awe, despite him being hired and a guard, he could still love a man like him.

Slowly, Baldwin sat upright and gently grasped Y/N hand, silently hoping that he would not get infected either. Baldwin leaned over and pressed a his to the mans temples.

Y/N softly smiled as he held his beloveds hand, enjoying each others presence. Love radiating off the two.

This is a sin but it is an amazing feeling.

A/N: Hopefully this is to your liking anon! Sorry if its bad :/

[0funkyducky0]

𐐪𐑂 King Baldwin lV of Jerusalem 𐐪𐑂

𐐪𐑂 Smut 💕 - 𐐪𐑂 Fluff 💝

[multific]

Maybe In Another Life

King Baldwin IV x Reader

Warnings: Mention of smut, Illness, Mourning, Death

Summary: A short piece about a King who was doomed to die early and his Queen.

You were promised to him before either of you were even born.

You were married by the time you were 13. He was 14 years old.

And you loved him.

You loved how smart he was. How gentle and kind he was. 

Your love for him started when you began to grow older, you got used to one another.

You loved him.

Then, he started to get more and more sick. It scared you. The thought of losing him petrified you.

You tried to ignore his illness, you tried to act as if everything was fine. But you couldn't hide it for long. 

He was a strong soul, but his body was weak. 

You remember the night of your wedding when you had to consummate your marriage. It was a night you would never forget.

It was the first time you laid with him. It was the first time you felt truly loved. 

Even if you wanted to, tried to, there was only ever one time when he gave himself to you. 

You seduced him, not giving him an option, you laid in his bed, bare and presented yourself to him. It was his 16th day of birth before his illness got worse.

He began to wear the mask, never letting anyone touch him.

You loved him, it was simple yet complicated.

But you knew he loved you. 

His actions showed it to you. 

The garden he built just for you, was grand and gorgeous.

"Just like you, My Wife." he would say. "This garden will be the proof of my love for you and of your beauty for the upcoming centuries." 

How he loved your smile. 

But then, you were sitting next to him as he was taking his last breaths. Your tears falling, you couldn't control them.

"I will miss you greatly." you said as he moved his hand and allowed you to take it.

One last touch.

"I love you," he said and you smiled, allowing him to see it right as he died.

You took a deep breath and placed a kiss on his mask. 

"I love you too." you said as you broke down sobbing. 

You visited his grave daily.

In the beginning, you didn't even leave it for days.

They will crown a new King, and people will move on, but not you. 

Barely a year passed and you were lost. You had nothing and no one to live for.

You still visited your husband's grave daily, hoping he would wake up, hoping he would come back to you, but he never did.

Your mourning caused you to become sick.

In the hopes of joining your husband in the afterlife, you prayed and begged for death until the day it finally took you.

You joined him in death as you wished.

The wife of King Baldwin IV was placed to rest next to him, your rightful place, right by his side. 

Maybe in another life, you two would meet again, hopefully, that time it will be right. 

----

They say you don't remember your past life, but the feeling stays with you.

It is why a person who you know you have not met, might feel familiar. In a past life, you might have known them.

Then, there are people who claim to remember their past life. Who say they found their true love once again.

You used to laugh at those people.

But not today.

Not when you couldn't look away from him.

He stood right across the other side of the street. Occasionally, cars obstructed your view, but he was there.

With each passing car, you feared he would disappear.

But he didn't.

His eyes were glued to yours.

A familiar feeling flooded you, you knew him but you never met him.

You would remember such a handsome face, he was tall, lean yet built, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. Nothing spectacular.

But he looked amazing in your eyes.

Soon, he crossed the road, and you felt your heartbeat pick up.

You didn't move as he walked closer to you.

He was even taller up close.

"My Wife." he said and it felt so right.

You have never seen this man in your life. And yet, you remembered him.

"My King." you said as tears fell from your eyes.

"I remember learning about you in history class. The Mourning Queen of the Leper King." he stepped closer, lifting his hand to your cheek, and you smiled.

"I told you before, I couldn't possibly live without you." he smiled as you leaned closer, grabbing his shirt to pull him down.

And now, you could kiss him freely.

Your past was filled with love and pain. You both will make sure that this life will be a happy one.

You both pulled away from the kiss and spoke in sync.

"I love you."

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @groovyqueer @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, OR TO STEAL ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[sunnycanvas]

Updated Masterlist

Fluff

King Baldwin IV reaction to drunk reader

King Baldwin IV reaction to reader being injured by her brother in law

Waking up early morning with Baldwin

Baldwin and Salah ad Din's daughter

Baldwin teaching his son chess and reader admiring them slight angst

Reader being married to Baldwin since childhood sharing kiss after Battle of Montgisard

Reader being blackmailed to leave Baldwin

Baldwin celebrating Christmas with reader and his in-laws in modern world

Jealous Baldwin reaction to reader wearing bikini

Baldwin comforting wife!reader after difficult birth

King Baldwin IV x Reader : Tantalizing Love slight angst

Reader teaches Baldwin to cook whilst she is pregnant

Baldwin taking care of pregnant wife reader

King Baldwin IV proposes female reader

(Y/N) gets caught Baldwin IV trying to heal him

Modern Day Baldwin and (Y/N) meeting again after dreaming of each other

Baldwin IV celebrates (Y/N)'s Birthday

Headcanon

Being queen consort of Jerusalem

King Baldwin IV as lover, husband and father

King Baldwin IV being angry at reader

Angst

King Baldwin IV being unfaithful to reader Alternate ending 1 Alternate ending 2

King Baldwin IV has to annul his marriage with reader

Lost Cause

Baldwin choosing between woman and he loves and woman he has to marry

Baldwin reaction to wife!reader trying to cure him

King Baldwin IV being angry at reader Part 1 Part 2

Smut

King Baldwin IV x Reader: Throne Sex

King Baldwin IV x Reader : Misogyny Sex

King Baldwin IV x Reader : Period Sex

King Baldwin IV x Reader: Erotic Night

King Baldwin IV seducing shy physician reader

King Baldwin IV spending honeymoon night with reader

Reader asking Baldwin help for her lactating breasts

Baldwin and chubby wife!reader trying anal sex

King Baldwin IV x Small!Reader Smut : Size Kink

Baldwin IV and Salahuddin's daughter (y/n) having sex for first time before their first battle

Baldwin IV being pervert towards (Y/N)

Baldwin and Salahuddin

King Baldwin IV x Reader x Saladin Part 1 Part 2 smut

Widowed reader marries Salahuddin angst

Salahuddin

Reader spoils him and loves being near him

Horror

Spectral Descent

History

A letter from King Baldwin IV and Princess Sibylla of Jerusalem Source: https://epistolae.ctl.columbia.edu/letter/25233.html

King Baldwin IV of Jerusalem appearance-STUDY by MariaExe on DeviantArt.com Artist- MariaExe on DeviantArt

King Baldwin IV appearance based on historical painting Part 1 Part 2

A letter From King Baldwin IV of Jerusalem to King Louis VII of France Source: Bernhard Hamilton -The Leper King and his heirs

LETTER FROM KING BALDWIN IV TO THE ENVOYS WITH NEWS OF SALADIN RAVAGES NABLUS, SEBASTE, AND OTHER TOWNS

Source:https://goodshksk.space/product_details/13546547.html

A Letter of Condolence to King Baldwin IV from Saladin Source: https://advocatetanmoy.com/2023/10/14/saladins-condolence-letter-to-king-baldwin-iv-of-jerusalem/

Seal of King Baldwin IV of Jerusalem Source:https://numismatics.org/collection/1956.152.1

Medieval Heroes: Baldwin IV

Miscellaneous

Would Baldwin be attracted to chubby and short person

Would Baldwin be unfaithful historically

Salahuddin: The conqueror of Jerusalem series King Baldwin IV

Would Baldwin be obsessive or possessive

Would Baldwin be impotent and would he be able to have sexual relationship

Can Baldwin be able to have sexual relationship: Revised Version

Did Historical Baldwin wear a mask and dress like the movie Kingdom of Heaven

Blurbs

NSFW thoughts

As Life Fades Sibylla remembers Baldwin IV

[greycloudsinwinter]

Master list ❤️❤️

A court of thorns and roses:

Platonic inner circle x reader x romantic azriel

Cassian x reader

High lord rhysand x reader

Thesan high lord of dawn x reader

Yandere inner circle x reader romantic

Kallias x reader

Amarantha x reader

My hero academia:

Katsuki bakugo x reader

Endeavour x reader

Eijiro kirishima x reader

Deku x reader

Twisted wonderland:

Azul x reader

Jamil x reader

Vert x reader

Bridgerton:

Poly bridgerton boys x reader

Colin bridgerton x reader

Game of thrones/ hotd :

The mountain x reader

Khal drogo x targeryan reader

Khal drogo x escaped reader

Khal drogo question

Khal drogo x reader smut

Jamie Lannister protected x reader

Maegor x reader

Rhaegar targeryan x reader

Maegor x wife reader with child

Aegon I x reader

Rickard stark x reader

Tywin Lannister x targeryan first wife reader

Jason Lannister x targeryan wife

Aegon I x reader with children

Maegor x male reader

Jaehaerys I x reader

Tyland Lannister x reader

Yanderes who become kings guard for male reader

Otto hightower x reader

Daemon targeryan x reader

Maegor x escapee reader

Ned stark question 1

Stannis Baratheon x reader

Otto Hightower x reader x platonic alicent

Poly viserys and Otto x reader

Poly viserys and Otto x reader

Poly viserys and Otto x reader question 1

Poly viserys and Otto x reader questions 2

Criston Cole x reader

Corys velaryon x reader

Criston Cole x reader part 2

Otto x reader x viserys question 3

Platonic aegon x platonic aemond x reader

Erryk cargyll x targeryan princess x arryk cargyll

Jacaerys veleryan x reader

Harry Potter / fantastic beasts :

Tom riddle x reader question

Gellert grindelwald x reader

Orion black x reader

Newt scamander x reader

Aberforth dumbledore x reader

Tom riddle x malfoy reader

Knights of walpurgis x reader

Cygnus black x reader

Cygnus black x reader questions

Cygnus black x reader questions 2

Pollux black x reader

Cygnus black x reader question 3

Cygnus black x reader question 4

Cygnus reaction to reader not wanting her children to be death eaters

Who wants the most children Orion or Cygnus black?

Orion black part 2

Poly orion and Cygnus black x reader

Poly marauders x Slytherin reader

Walpurgis x muggle reader

Lucius malfoy x reader

Salazar Slytherin x reader

Hobbit/ lotr :

Thranduil x fairy reader

Thranduil x fairy reader with children

Thranduil x fairy reader 3

Thranduil x fairy reader part of the company

Thranduil x fairy reader question

Haldir x reader

Would yandere Thranduil still join the battle of five armies

Yandere thorin Oakenshield x reader

Twilight:

Marcus volturi x reader

Aro volturi x reader

Cauis volturi x reader

Marcus volturi x reader part 2

Marcus volturi x stubborn reader

Aro volturi x reader (who doesn’t care )

Beaststars :

Ogma x reader

Tem x reader

Poly gohin and oguma x reader

X-men:

Erik lehsnherr x reader

Erik lehsnherr questions 1

Historical characters:

Henry VIII x reader

Henry VIII x reader question 1

Baldwin IV x reader

Oc’s

Knight x reader

[gaudybaudy]

I was reading OTNT and thought about this: Baldwin is catholic, and back in the day they were very strict about certain things. Especially no sex before marriage. I would assume he still holds those type of values even though he's in modern times. I read that there would be eventual smut (idk if that also includes the dream that Lulu had), but if they were to really do it, does that mean they'd have to get married first? Would he still hold onto that belief?

Chapters 18 and 19 still got me giggling and kicking my feet, tho 🤭 (especially the former).

So! Contrary to popular belief, the Middle Ages were quite slutty. Having sex outside of marriage was something men were kind of expected to do, especially powerful men. Kings especially were expected to keep mistresses. A queen was for alliances.

There was also a theological belief that if you have sex with someone you aren’t married to, then you are “married in the eyes of god”. I’m not sure how widespread this was, however.

And no, OTNT smut will not be limited to dreams ;)

[iiseult]

⚜️ 𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ⚜️

𝕱𝖑𝖚𝖋𝖋: 𖤓

𝕾𝖒𝖚𝖙: ☾

𝕬𝖓𝖌𝖘𝖙: 𖦹

🗡️ 𝕯𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖓 𝕾𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖊𝖗

𝕳𝖆𝖌𝖆𝖓𝖊𝖟𝖚𝖐𝖆

𝒪𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓂𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝐻𝑜𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓊 - 𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓉 (𝟦𝓀 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈) - ☾

𝐻𝑜𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓊 𝐵𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶 𝐵𝓇𝒶𝓉 - 𝒹𝓇𝒶𝒷𝒷𝓁𝑒 (𝟤𝟧𝟢 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈) - ☾

𝕲𝖞𝖚𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖔

𝑅𝑒𝒹-𝐻𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝒹 - ☾

- 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝟣

- 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝟤

⚔️ 𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖉𝖔𝖒 𝖔𝖋 𝕳𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖓

𝕭𝖆𝖑𝖉𝖜𝖎𝖓 𝕴𝖁

𝐻𝒾𝑔𝒽 𝒩𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝒮𝓊𝓃𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 - 𝒻𝒾𝒸 (𝟣𝟪,𝟢𝟢𝟢+ 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈) - 𖤓𖦹

- 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒪𝓃𝑒: 𝒜 𝒢𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒞𝒽𝑒𝓈𝓈 (𝟥.𝟦𝓀 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈)

- 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒯𝓌𝑜: 𝒜𝓈 𝒬𝓊𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝒥𝑒𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓂 (𝟧.𝟤𝓀 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈)

- 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒯𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝒶𝓅𝓅𝒽𝒾𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒥𝑒𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓂 (𝟥.𝟣𝓀 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈)

- 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐹𝑜𝓊𝓇: 𝑀𝓎 𝒟𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝐿𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒲𝒾𝒻𝑒 (𝟥.𝟥𝓀 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈)

- 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐹𝒾𝓋𝑒: 𝒢𝑜𝓁𝒹𝑒𝓃 𝒞𝓇𝑜𝓈𝓈 (𝟥.𝟧𝓀 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈)

𝒲𝑒𝒹𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒩𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 - 𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓉 (𝟤𝓀 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈) - 𖤓

𝒩𝒮𝐹𝒲 𝒜𝓁𝓅𝒽𝒶𝒷𝑒𝓉 - 𝒹𝓇𝒶𝒷𝒷𝓁𝑒 (𝟤.𝟦𝓀 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈) - ☾

𝒩𝑜𝓃-𝓁𝑒𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈 - 𝒹𝓇𝒶𝒷𝒷𝓁𝑒 (𝟪𝟧𝟤 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈) - 𖤓☾

[flowerandblood]

White Marriage (2)

[ Kingdom of Heaven • King Baldwin x female ]

[ warnings: fingering, virginity loss, sex content, poetic smut, angst, a detailed description of the deadly disease and the unpleasant symptoms associated with it ]

[ description: After their nuptials, the court becomes even more divided. The King, however, wishes to spend the last years of his life experiencing the joys he finds in the closeness of his wife. His bride was never to lose her maidenhood, however, is what the King has proclaimed to his subjects what he really craves? ]

Author’s Note: After the warm reception of the first part, which I didn't expect at all, here is the second part of their story! I have to admit that I had a great time writing it and I love them. I tried to leave some realism and not forget about his illness and the fact that it is contagious.

Part Two of Paradise Fruit. Can be read as a standalone story.

Word count: 4.600

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

Their nuptials were humble – apart from the Archbishop, who gave them his blessing, uniting them for eternity, they were accompanied only by Sibylla and her husband, enraged, thinking that the King was just fulfilling his sneaky plan.

He truly believed that he would have exposed her to such danger, condemning her to the cruel disease that tormented his members to try to beget an heir.

She was grateful to her Princess for lending her one of her beautiful, gold-embellished robes that day – Sibylla knew what purpose this marriage was intended to serve and that it would not change the order of succession.

She was to be his comfort, a moment of relief and solace, nothing more.

Nevertheless, she smiled, feeling happiness filling her heart, her king's gaze tender and full of affection, from which she felt warmth in her chest.

She thought that she had fallen in love with him.

Their marriage was announced to all and sundry, and she became a king's wife, but not a queen.

She was not bothered by this.

She was assigned a chamber right next to his – she could now visit him whenever she wished and did not have to worry about the King's honour.

As she walked into his quarters, clad only in a thin night robe, a smile of happiness adorned her face. Baldwin, though tired, also seemed pleased and rose at the sight of her.

"Wife." He said, entwining his hands behind his back.

His figure was all clad in white as usual, though the material of his wardrobe seemed thicker to her, a silver mask on his face.

To her surprise she noticed that his gloves were black, apparently made of leather.

She bowed to him, recognising that she was not intending to think about it now.

"My King. My husband. You are the man of your word." She whispered warmly, looking up at him from above her long lashes, feeling a pleasant tickle in her lower abdomen meeting his gaze, hot and dark.

"I am." He replied. "I couldn't deny myself this pleasure. It was an act of my selfishness, not my greatness."

She blinked, cocking her head, feeling for some reason amused by his words.

"Does it matter now?" She asked lightly – something flashed across his gaze, she thought he smiled.

"No. Not in the slightest."

She looked at him expectantly, waiting for his orders – he had announced that because of his disease he would not take her maidenhood and their marriage would be white, however, after what had gone on between them earlier, she did not think her husband would want to remain an ascetic in every aspect.

"Let me see you." He said finally, his voice like a sigh.

She knew what he meant, she knew what he wanted – she could see it in his gaze. Her hands rose to the small knot above her breasts, untying it, slipping the thin material of her nightgown off her shoulders in a light, gentle motion, remaining bare before him.

She shuddered, feeling the chill of the chamber surround her body despite the flames burning in the fireplace beside her, her lips parted as she noticed her king's gaze shift, misty and filled with a familiar, hot desire.

For a moment he looked at her with his head tilted, as if he was simply admiring her, nothing more.

"My physicians have said that the leather material, as opposed to linen, will ensure that you are protected from the touch of my bare skin and what it may cause." He said, tentatively extending his hand to her, and she felt her heart thump harder in her chest with joy.

She could touch him.

They both drew in a loud breath as she placed her fingers on his palm, letting him pull her a little closer, the spot between her thighs all swollen with desire, slowly growing moist with her wetness.

Her lips parted with her gasp of surprise as his other hand touched her cheek – she snuggled her face into it, placing affectionate kisses of her lips on it.

"I would give all the treasures of this chamber, my possessions and my gold coins to feel the taste of your lips on mine." He gasped, looking at her as if she were a precious jewel, a spring water that quenches thirst, an olive tree that feeds whole nations.

She closed her eyes, listening to the sound of the sizzling fire and their hitched breaths as his thumb ran over her full, lower lip. She parted it before him and let him slide it deeper, between her teeth. Her lips clamped slowly around his finger, looking up at him with desire as she began to suck.

A low groan escaped his throat at the sight, clearly imagining that he was forcing something completely different down her throat.

He placed his other hand on her back, at the same time pulling her closer and holding her at arm's length, apparently afraid that even his breath was dangerous to her, possibly dooming her to his fate.

She moaned when he gave in, when his mask pressed against her forehead, his eyelids all red around his bright pupils.

"– forgive me –"

She didn't know why his words, filled with so much sadness and desire, made her throw her hands on his shoulders, her lips clinging greedily to the unpleasantly cold, silver structure of his mask.

She closed her eyes, hearing his gasp of surprise, placing lingering, hot kisses full of her saliva and tongue on the surface of it, imagining he was able to feel it, his hands sinking into her hair.

"– touch me, husband – I crave you –" She mewled helplessly, running her hands over the material beneath which was his head, his hair, his jaw and neck.

She squealed when he lifted her suddenly by her buttocks, the quiet hiss that escaped his lips made her understand that this sudden movement must have caused him pain.

She stroked the back of his head as he moved towards his bed with his face nestled between her breasts, not wanting to show him any sympathy now that he wanted to be a strong man in her eyes.

He let out a breath as he laid her down on the soft sheets, his gaze full of tenderness as he looked at her face.

"– lie on your stomach and spread your thighs –" He said calmly and gently, however, something in his words and their undertone made her feel a heat in her lower abdomen and a wonderful tickling sensation.

She obeyed his command immediately, feeling her legs become stiff as he caught her around the waist and lifted her hips, forcing her to buck her buttocks in front of him in a shameless manner.

She heard his heavy breath as he positioned himself behind her on his knees, running his leather-gloved hands over the soft skin of her buttocks, herself panting hard, knowing where he was looking now.

"– the reason why Paris abducted Helen of Troy – the cause of the downfall and delight of all mankind locked deep between my wife's thighs –" He whispered in such a sensual way that she moaned pathetically, clenching her eyelids as his thumb ran over her leaking, throbbing womanhood.

Apparently he liked the sound she made, because one of his hands slid into her hair, holding her in place, reassuring him that she wouldn't take advantage of his weakness and try to expose him in an act of pleasure, endangering him and herself.

"– lie still – shhhh, my love –" He whispered, hearing her innocent cry of desperation as his fingers began to trail around her oversensitive, swollen bud, waves of tingling and tickling sensations spreading through her body dulling her mind, causing her to emit uncontrollable sounds.

She could hear him panting as she watched what he was doing to her, his fingers digging into her delicate folds with a loud click of her wetness, barely teasing her – her hips began to roll back and forth, responding to his treatments, trying to find a better source of rubbing.

"– have mercy on me –" She mumbled with difficulty, her lips parted wide in a girlish moan when, at her request, the tip of his middle finger burst into her fleshy, hot interior.

The experience was at once full of discomfort and delight – at first the material of his glove was cold, but in time her body temperature enveloped him with its heat.

"– God – so warm –" He whispered in a voice trembling with emotion, in some involuntary, primitive reflex forcing her to take his finger deeper inside her, meeting resistance.

"– yes or no –" He breathed out, making her gasp.

Yes or no.

She froze, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad, knowing that he had lied: he had only declared their marriage as white so that after his death his sister's husband would not attempt to kill her out of fear that she might be carrying his heir.

The future King.

"– yes –"

Her fingers clenched on the fabric of the sheet beneath her as he pierced something inside her in one aggressive motion, along with her squeal taking her maidenhood.

She began to wriggle under him with sweet whimpers of delight as his first finger was joined by a second, opening her wide for him only to fuck her before his eyes.

Tears of pleasure and shock ran down her cheeks as she moaned like a mere whore, spreading her thighs wider, his fingers thicker and longer than hers, stretching her so wonderfully.

"– please –" She whimpered, responding with her hips to each thrust of his hand, the tips of his fingers hitting the sweet spot deep inside her with startling precision again and again, while his thumb teased her little pearl between her folds with reluctance.

She bucked up more, panting loudly along with him, feeling the drops of her own wetness begin to run down her thighs one by one, soaking his hand, the fingers of his free palm clenched in her hair.

"– go on – please your King –" He commanded in a low voice from which her weeping cunt clenched around his fingers in convulsions of ecstasy, the sweet, stupefying pleasure making her cry out loudly, her legs bent at the knees quivering all over from the exertion.

"– a-ah –" She mumbled out, her face red with emotion as her body shook with a fulfilment so strong that her leaking, hot walls began to simply suck him inside. He felt it and moaned in a boyish manner, stopping moving, keeping his two fingers slipped deep into her body, just wanting to feel how it pulsed around them.

"– yes – just like that – easy now – easy –" He praised her, slowly sliding them out of her, and she swallowed hard, letting her body fall back onto the bed, panting loudly.

She sighed as he turned her onto her back and spread her thighs, looking at her with eyes black with desire, his hand slipped under the material of his robe.

Only then did she notice that his garment had a slit in the area underneath where his manhood was.

Although he had not allowed her to look at it then, now that he had grasped it in his hand and directed it at her throbbing womanhood, she saw the fat, pink head of it, dripping with his desire.

His hand clamped down on her soft breast, careful, however, not to cause her pain as he began to squeeze his swollen erection in his palm, with sharp, aggressive strokes from the very base to the tip chasing his fulfilment.

She moaned innocently, surprised, tilting her head back as his thumb ran over her hard, sensitive nipple, playing with it, something like satisfaction flashed through his gaze when he saw that this kind of touch was giving her pleasure.

"– my wife is so eager – so devoted to her poor husband – hm? –" He gasped, his breathing heavy as he accelerated, already squeezing only the base of his manhood, rocking his hips back and forth, struggling to restrain himself from opening her up, from sinking into her, from feeling her.

She rolled her hips forward encouragingly, rubbing her moist cunt against the thick head of his erection, drawing a low, almost animalistic groan from his throat, his silhouette moving slightly away.

"– no –" He growled with pain and anger, involuntarily returning again and again to her warmth, letting the tip of it push against her swollen, thirsty slit.

"– please, my King – put inside me –" She begged, but he shook his head and simply came with a loud moan of pleasure, his pearly, sticky spend spewing onto her womanhood.

He stared at this shameless sight, his head bowed low, his breath heavy as if he had just accomplished some heroic feat.

"– you need to bathe in hot water – immediately – dress yourself, I'll call the servants –" He exclaimed, rising abruptly from the bed, covering his manhood back with his robe, wiping his hand sticky with her wetness into its material.

She stood up quickly, horrified that he was surely angry with her for not listening to him, hastily dressing her nightgown over her shoulders, bursting into sobs.

"– forgive me, my King – forgive me, do not send me away –" She begged, but he did not listen to her, ordering his servant to immediately bring the tub into his chamber and fill it with hot water.

Although it slightly burned her skin when she stepped inside, her husband-king explained that the heat killed whatever was spreading his disease, and the oils and herbs that were thrown in were to prevent any other infections.

She looked at him with big eyes as he sat beside her, dipping his leather-gloved hand into the water along with a piece of cloth, sinking it then between her thighs, making sure not a single drop of his seed remained on it.

"– will you forgive me, my beloved? –" She muttered pleadingly, watching his face. He looked at her with a chastising look and sighed heavily.

"– it is I who should beg your forgiveness – I have allowed myself to be carried away by my desires, which have suppressed my reason – do not fear, it will not happen again – after your bath you will return to your chamber and will no longer visit me in the evenings –" He said calmly, looking away.

Her heart stopped in her throat, her brow arching in pain and disbelief at his words.

"Are you sending me away?" She muttered with difficulty. He looked at her, surprised apparently by her question and reaction, his hand froze in mid-motion.

"You can't sleep here because I am here. My breath, my proximity are deadly. I am exposing you even now. Before sleep, my physicians pull off most of the fabric that covers my body. I will never let you see this." He said and swallowed hard, seeing as tears one by one began to run down her cheeks.

"You break my heart. At least let my bed be placed next to yours. Drape it with curtains so that I may not see you or your body at night, but that I may at least hear your voice, hear your presence in the same chamber." She said pleadingly, touching his beautiful silver mask with her hand, his gaze tired and sad, filled with pain.

He hesitated.

"The chamber is not locked. Place my bed by the windows, by the fresh air. Do not condemn me to solitude, show me mercy, my King." She whispered, once again placing a kiss on his mask, on his cold, silver lips, his sigh testifying that he pressed his lips on the other side, reciprocating her caress.

"You are my doom."

At his command, her bed was moved to his chamber, raising voices full of resentment from some of the monks and priests, commenting on the fact that her maidenhood might be called into question.

"White marriage, to my knowledge, does not mean that husband and wife live separately. On the contrary, we should indulge in prayers together and be each other's comfort by day and night."

Honour Knights and Lords were concerned about what kind of comfort his little wife was to him.

Each day, the physicians sent by King Saladin checked the condition of her body and whether there were any signs of infection – her husband watched it from the sidelines in horror, relief in his gaze each time he heard from their lips that his wife was in good health.

However, taking advantage of the fact that the King had left the chamber after her examination, returning to his duties, one of his medics approached her, pale.

"My Lady. Spending so much time in the King's company, you will certainly contract his disease. Often its first symptoms do not appear until years after infection. It is possible that it is already too late." He muttered, bowing before her.

She swallowed loudly, looking at him calmly, feeling discomfort in her stomach.

"Would my husband live to see the time when the first symptoms could be apparent? If it turned out I was infected." She mumbled, and he shook his head.

"No, my Lady."

She smiled at his words and nodded.

"Thank you. Assure my King that I am well and can abide with him as before."

The man looked at her, in his eyes disbelief but at the same time a kind of admiration, compassion and warmth from which she felt a squeeze in her throat.

"My Lady."

The days in Jerusalem were often sunny and hot, and as her husband rejoiced at the sight of her bare body, she walked around his chambers naked, feeling like a Greek goddess, Aphrodite or Artemis.

She would read old volumes, play the lute or embroider while spreading out comfortably on large cushions so that he could see her, and he would admire her from afar like a nymph.

"– my wife is like a fruit of paradise – like a goddess born of the sea foam –" He murmured, looking at her contentedly, bent over the dozens of parchments spread out on his table.

The servants knew that they could not enter his quarters without permission, for although he was gentle and affectionate in his manner, he did not wish to share this shameless sight with anyone.

However, what most of their days consisted of were conversations.

Her husband was a great speaker – they were discussing the Bible, faith, philosophy, poetry, art, war and history for long hours.

At nights, when he couldn't sleep from his pain, hearing his sighs and quiet moans that he tried to suppress for her sake, she would ask him questions.

She couldn't touch his hands or embrace him – his body needed rest, to breathe to keep from rotting and for at least a few hours a day it was supposed to be uncovered.

"Christ says to the adulteress: go and sin no more. However, he knows, as God incarnate, that this is not his command, but a recommendation. Sin is the fatal disease of every human being and we all sin in thought, in speech, in deed, in neglect. This is no reason to be sad. Christ is merely saying: live in such a way as not to cause yourself or others suffering, try to live with dignity, in harmony with yourself and your Father in Heaven."

"Is it known what happened to her afterwards?" She asked quietly, looking at his silhouette, seeing only its outline on the other side of his bed.

"Some identify her with Mary Magdalene or Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus. But it could also have been a person not mentioned by name in the Gospel. She certainly followed Christ and became one of his disciples." He said, his voice clearer without his mask, calm and soft.

"Do you think God considers me an adulteress?" She asked in a trembling voice and heard him shift restlessly in his bed.

"Why should such an unjust and harsh judgment fall on my wife? Because she is devoted to me with her soul, heart and body? Haven't you done everything I asked of you and even more? You are as pure as the sheet I lie on, as the delicate fabrics I wear on my skin. Your beauty makes me even more aware of my ugliness." He whispered with pain that made her swallow hard, shocked by his words.

"To me, you are the most beautiful of men. Before I met you, I swore to God that I would never marry, that I would not share Sibylla's fate. He showed me mercy, filling my heart with a burning feeling for you, my beloved."

He was silent, but she heard him exhale loudly, his trembling sigh full of suffering.

He cried.

"If only you could look at my face, see what a disgusting caricature of a human I am, you would understand what a great mistake you made." He howled, choking on his own tears, clearly letting out what had been weighing on his heart for weeks.

The fear that if she accidentally saw his face, she would scream in terror and run away.

"Is your faith in me so weak? I hoped you think of me with respect." She mumbled, heartbroken, feeling a squeeze in her throat.

She heard him swallow hard at her words, clearly terrified that he had offended her.

"I do, my love. Forgive me."

"I fell in love with a human, not an earthly shell." She said, but he didn't answer her.

She watched the silhouette of her husband and his physicians each evening through the curtains, seeing them only as through a fog in the candlelight, their shadows dancing around her.

She could hear his hisses and cries of pain as they treated his wounds, see the outline of his head, always with his back turned to her.

When they were finally left alone and he lay down on his bed, she heard his sigh of relief, his face, though she couldn't see it, turned towards her.

"My sweetest?" He whispered, and she smiled warmly, feeling a wonderful delight in her heart every time he called her that.

"I'm here, my love." She murmured, twisting comfortably in her bed.

"I desire you."

She swallowed hard, feeling her warm womanhood throb around nothing.

"I desire you too, my beloved."

They were both silent for a long moment, the tension around them palpable in the air.

"– one of my physicians –" He began in a trembling voice. "– at my request, he created something that I can – put on my length so as not to touch you directly – from what I understand, he made it from the intestine of some animal and disinfected it – he assured me that it would be safe for both of us, but –"

"– yes –" She muttered, feeling her heart begin to pound like crazy at the thought that he wanted to do this to her.

"– you know it's a risk –" He said, his voice quivering with longing, the shadow of his silhouette turned towards her.

"– I knew it from the very beginning – I don't care what happens to my body – I just want to feel my beloved husband inside me –" She whispered with embarrassment and that seemed to be enough for him.

She heard him stand up, quickly putting the cloth and mask over his head as he appeared on the other side, beside her bed, looking as he usually did – the same black leather gloves on his hands, his fingers clenched on a small wooden box.

"– undress –" He commanded, and she did so, literally ripping off herself her nightgown, laying down on her stomach.

His silhouette was instantly next her, kneeling behind her buttocks, his breath hitched and quickened when she heard the rustling of something and another strange, sticky sound.

After a moment, his fingers tentatively and gently ran over her swollen, pink folds, collecting her wetness, which had already managed to trickle down her thigh.

"– no other treatments are needed – my sweet wife is leaking like a forest stream –" He hummed with delight and admiration, she felt her cheeks blush with embarrassment.

They both sighed as she felt something thick and hard begin to push against her puffy slit, opening her wide – despite her lack of preparation her cunt pulsed in delight, moist with desire.

The feeling of him deep inside her, so intense and definitive, of how hard his long, thick erection stretched her fleshy walls was shockingly pleasurable and terrifying at the same time, as if her body no longer belonged to her.

"– yes, yes, yes –" She mewled as she felt his hands clamp down on her buttocks, spreading them apart as if he were tearing a piece of fruit, another determined thrust of his hips sinking him completely into her hot core with their moans of pleasure.

"– fuck –"

She wasn't sure if he had ever cursed before, but then, as his hips immediately began to pound into her with loud slaps, nothing more than their panting, grunts and words insulting to God left his mouth.

"– we'll do it frequently – so that you can remember this feeling well – your husband deep inside your warmth –" He exhaled in a way from which her little cunt began to squeeze him greedily, sucking his erection inside, her lips parted wide in a loud, helpless whines of pleasure so strong that she had to close her eyes, her hands clenched on the bedding.

His gloved fingers dug into the delicate structure of her hips, imposing a more aggressive pace on her, his fat manhood bursting deep between her fleshy walls without slipping out of her, hitting again and again her sweet little spot.

"– yes – yes, I love you, I love you, I love you, please –" She cried out, feeling the tension in her silky womanhood reach its zenith, the pleasant tingling in her belly testifying to the fact that she was about to reach her peak with him and dreamed of nothing else.

He moaned low, slamming into her like mad, feeling her weeping core clench around his twitching length more and more, his manhood hard as a rock with desire.

"– G-God – oh, fuck, yes, yes, my sweetest, let me, ah –" He gasped in delight, coming deep inside her, filling the thin material overlying his manhood with his release.

Her eyes closed and her mouth parted wide as her peak came down on her like a thunderbolt, shaking her body with convulsions of delicious delight.

They both moaned and panted, rocking their hips for a moment more with the loud click of her slick cunt, his hands soothingly kneading the skin of her buttocks.

"– I will order more of this to be prepared – so that I can fulfil my marital duty every night –" He sighed with satisfaction.

She involuntarily smiled under her breath, looking up at him over her shoulder, the moonlight shining outside the window reflected in his mask.

"– what kind of white marriage is this? –" She asked teasingly, rolling her hips, feeling his half-soft manhood pulsate inside her again.

"– our kind – do not fret – I will explain it to God once I am before him – I will tell him that I loved my wife too much –"

_____

Author's note: Between their wedding day and this next act, weeks actually pass during which he doesn't touch her (she mentions the days spent in his company and how she is examined every day, how he watches her naked, but apart from that nothing happens between them). He is afraid that if he tries to touch her again, he won't hold back (he had already had difficulty not taking her on their wedding night), so he tried to think of something so as not to touch her directly with his manhood. Their intimacy is an act of their desperation, the pain of knowing that their marriage will last a year or two at most. The desire to touch her and feel her is as strong in him as the desire to protect her and push her away. Their love is tragic and complete to me, and she knows what she is risking (she knew from the very beginning).

[nebbyy]

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

[historyslittlebish]

☁︎｡⋆｡ ☾ ﾟ｡⋆Masterlist⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ☾

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Quick Note: Please read rules before requesting (pinned post) also let me know if something is wrong with the links. Enjoy! (pinned post also includes if requests are open)

Updated: 11/3/2024

Illness won't stop love (Cured!King Baldwin IV x Witch!Reader) (part 1/2)

King Baldwin IV x Male!Reader NSFW (request)

Alexander the Great x Male!Soldier!Reader (coming soon)

King Baldwin IV x Wife!Reader: scratching his head (request)

Illness won't stop love (Cured!King Baldwin IV x Witch!Reader) (part 2/2)

King Baldwin IV x Wife!Reader: singing to him (request)

King Baldwin IV x Servant!Reader: Their utter devotion (request)

Swords'n skirts (Napoleon Bonaparte x Tough!F!Reader) (coming soon)

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Can you do a Baldwin IV x Reader x Saladin smut inspired from @sunnycanvas ?

You know that's not exactly a nice/respectful thing to request, right? Why not just ask the blog instead?

Also, not only would it be physically and medically weird to engage in such things with the Leper King who died at 23 years old (and he was mostly numb and/or sorta blind), but it would also be kinda historically disrespectful.

[grotesque--cooties]

✭Welcome to my blog✭

Side note: This isn't my primary blog!!!!I only made this blog for reposting fanfics, writing fanfiction, and making fanart but I'll probably slip in a shitpost here and there!

(just a glimpse into my dark mind😈😈😈) RULES

-Please be patient with requests! I do have a very busy personal life and will try to write as many requests as I can a day but it may be a little slow and I'm also just lazy😏

-I only write character x reader, maybe character x oc if you feel comfy giving me a detailed description

-If I write anything that has smut, like full-on details, it will be labeled and have an 18+ warning

-I'll write headcanons, one-shots, and multi-chapters, and possibly match-ups too!

WILL WRITE

Fluff(preferred), Smut, Angst(will write but not preferred), found-family(AWWOOOOGGAAAAA), violence

WON'T WRITE

anything with racism, ableism, transphobia, homophobia, incest, pedophilia, anti-Semitism, islamophobia, rape/non-con

MY BLOG IS

LGBTQ+ friendly! I can write for all genders and sexualities

POC friendly!

FANDOMS I WRITE FOR

-Danonation(literally anything)

-Fight Club

-Slashers(any film)

-Undertale

-Sally Face(only platonic)

-Mortal Kombat

-SDV

-RDR2

-BG3

-Kingdom of Heaven (only King Baldwin IV)

-COD

-Barbie

-Tombstone

-Top Gun(both movies)

-Spider-Man(all movies)

-Bullet Train

-JJBA

-Resident Evil

-Supernatural

-LOTR/The Hobbit

-The Boys

-Creepypasta(any) -Fallout 4

-jujutsu Kaisen

[tired-truffle]

Yet Broken Still You Breathe

An AlistairxOC fic

Chapter Word Count: 7.9k

Part 34/54

“Love him. Love him and let him love you. Do you think anything else under heaven really matters?” - James Baldwin

Warning: Smut in this chapter! If you would like to avoid it, it starts at: "Wordlessly, Gwen caught the fabric between her fingers and pulled it over her head." And ends at: "She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close, her heart swelling with an uncertainty that felt akin to home."

Masterlist

The sombre procession wove its way through the bracken, the silence between them as thick as the fog that clung to the ground. Alistair's arm was a band of warmth under Gwen's shoulder, his fingers pressed into her side, a lifeline that kept her tethered to the here and now, amidst the haunting echoes of the past.

They’d decided to build a pyre, as was apparently typical for Ferelden Royalty, and Alistair had wanted to give Cailan the sendoff he deserved.

With a flourish of Morrigan’s hand, she produced a flame, igniting the pyre they had hastily constructed. The fire took to the kindling hungrily, crackling and spitting as it claimed Cailan's remains.

Gwen watched, motionless, as the flames danced their macabre waltz, devouring flesh and blood. The pyre's light flickered over her pallid features, casting stark shadows across her face and the disfigurements that marred her skin. Alistair stayed close beside her, refusing to leave her side, his grip tight as though he feared she would disappear should he let go.

With the fire reduced to embers, they turned their backs on the ashes of what once was, each lost in their reverie. The march to Redcliffe Castle, towards the final leg of their fight against the Teryn - the last step before they set themselves upon the Archdemon’s armies - was a silent vigil. Gwen could feel the weight of Cailan's funeral settle upon them like a shroud, the finality of it a cold whisper in her ear.

Their footsteps fell in unison, a dirge of boots against the path, as if the very earth beneath them mourned the passing of a king. Gwen's mind wandered, trailing over the memories that clawed at her insides. The taint was the worst type of curse, it destroyed everything it touched. Gwen could feel it growing inside her, a rot that threatened to consume her from within. She was running out of time, and soon enough - at any point within the next ten years - the taint would claim her life. She couldn’t let it claim Alistair’s too. The Archdemon couldn’t have him, she would rip it apart with her bare hands to ensure he never met the fate it salivated over.

The moon hung low as the weary band of companions arrived at Redcliffe Castle, its pale light casting an eerie glow over the stone ramparts. The hour was late, and no nobles lingered to receive them; only a few sleepy servants - guarded by armoured soldiers - shuffled forward to usher the group inside.

"Guest chambers will be prepared for all of you," one servant murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "But first, Lady Isolde insists everyone must be cleansed in the bathing chambers."

Gwen nodded absently, her mind adrift with the weight of the day’s events. She could feel the gritty remnants of the road clinging to her skin, mixing with her own sweat and grime like a heavy cloak. The sensation was almost suffocating, reminding her of the unwanted memories that hung onto her every move. The thought of a warm bath sounded divine, even though it meant once again exposing her body, marked by countless scars, to her companions.

Alistair gave her a reassuring look, seeing the flash of concern in her eyes, his gaze soft in the dim torchlight. She had no time to react as a commotion broke their hushed exchange. Barkspawn, legs splayed and hackles raised, growled in protest as another servant attempted to lead him away.

"Come now, you brave beast, it's just water," the young servant said, tugging insistently at the dog's collar.

Barkspawn let out a pitiful whine, his dark eyes imploring Darcy for mercy. But he refused to give in, instead giving the dog a quick scratch behind his ears and an encouraging pat on his bum. With a resigned huff, the Mabari allowed himself to be escorted off to his reluctant cleansing.

Gwen couldn't help but smile faintly at Barkspawn’s antics, feeling a flicker of warmth amidst the cold that had settled in her bones.

They were led through the bowels of the castle, separated by gender and instructed on how to use the different pools and soaps that were heated by the underground hot springs. The servant explained that since Arl Eamon’s recovery, they’d been able to restore the castle to its former glory, which included a deep clean of the baths. At least one good thing had come from waking the entitled bastard.

In a small changing area prior to the baths, Leliana, Wynne, Morrigan, and Gwen were instructed to remove their clothes. With great reluctance at having to expose herself in front of the servants, Gwen turned her back to them before shimmying out of her clothes.

In a small, dimly lit room designated for changing, the women were instructed to remove their clothes. With great reluctance at having to expose herself in front of the servants, Gwen turned her back to them before delicately shimmying out of her garments. Better to let them see her back than her face. Leliana saved her from having to turn around by picking up both their discarded items and bringing them to where the servants waited. Gwen could feel their eyes boring into her back, and after waiting for the rogue to return to her side, they made their way through the doors towards the wonderfully refreshing scents wafting their way.

The bathing chamber itself was a haven of steam and echoing droplets, the air heavy with the scent of lavender and chamomile. As they settled into the heated pool, Gwen let out a contented sigh, warmth enveloping her. The water welcomed her, a soothing embrace that seemed to wash away more than just the dirt of their travels.

For a long while, they bathed in silence, the quiet only broken by the gentle lapping of water against stone. Gwen kept to herself, submerging up to her chin, letting it envelop her wholly. Her scars, usually a glaring reminder of her past, became softened beneath the water's surface, less pronounced and somehow less menacing.

It was Leliana who eventually shattered the calm, her lilting voice rising above the quietude. "Have you ever heard the tale of the Swan Princess?" she asked, her words dancing through the steam.

Morrigan snorted from her corner, her eyes rolling skyward. "Now really, is this the time for your tiresome tales, bard? Spare me your feeble attempts at lifting our spirits."

"Ah, but stories are the threads that weave us together, dear. They remind us of our humanity, especially when the world seems intent on tearing it apart," Wynne countered gently, a twinkle in her eye. "Go on, Leliana. I, for one, would like to hear it."

Encouraged, Leliana began weaving her tale, her voice painting vivid images of star-crossed lovers separated by the horizon, their only meeting place the fleeting moments of twilight. As she spoke, the mood in the chamber shifted, the burden of their reality lifting ever so slightly, carried away on the wings of her narrative.

Gwen listened, allowing herself to be drawn into the story. She wondered if this was what it felt like to be told a bedtime story. Lucy had read her some stories over the years, but it was different, she’d never been able to visit anytime after dark, too difficult to slip away once the Sisters were on alert for danger.

As the tale drew to a close, Gwen traced the line of her scar from the Ogre, running from collar to hip. The skin remained raised, reddened as it healed, soon to fade just like all the rest.

"It is healing nicely," Wynne remarked, her tone both observant and kind. She gestured towards the jagged line that marred Gwen's flesh. "The body has remarkable ways of repairing itself, doesn't it?"

Gwen met her discerning gaze. "Especially when helped along by a talented healer.”

"You flatter me,” the mage said with a wry smile. “But it would be best to keep an eye on it, the worst of it was dangerously close to your reproductive organs. It could cause lasting damage if you aren’t careful, the skin may have healed, but inside there is no telling what has happened. Please keep me informed about your monthly bleed, I’d like to ensure everything is as it should be.”

Gwen's brow furrowed at the mention of a 'monthly bleed.' She had heard other women whisper about such things, but the details had always remained a mystery to her. She averted her gaze, staring down at the water lapping around her body.

"I, um...I'm not sure what you mean," Gwen mumbled awkwardly.

Wynne's eyes widened in surprise. "My dear, you've never...?" Her voice trailed off as understanding dawned on her aged features. "Of course. I should have realized. It seems there is much that has been kept from you over the years."

The elder mage sat up and shifted closer to Gwen, her tone gentle. "As women, our bodies undergo a cycle each month to prepare for childbearing. The lining of the womb thickens, and when conception does not occur, it sheds through bleeding. It is completely natural."

Gwen's cheeks flushed, a mix of embarrassment and dismay swirling within her. She’d known the basic concepts of becoming with child, but she hadn’t known the specifics. She had never bled in such a way, her body was too hostile to create life and all it was good for was taking it.

"So if I've never...then I can't ever..." She trailed off, throat tightening around the unspoken words.

"It is nothing to be ashamed of," Wynne continued kindly. "Simply the Maker's design.”

"What a preposterous design, if you ask me. A course of stupidity only the naive would endure." Morrigan cut in, not bothering to conceal her disdain. "What purpose does it serve other than to inconvenience women?"

"It allows for new life, dear," Wynne replied. "You might find that even in its inconveniences, there’s wisdom to be found in every experience - patience leads to understanding.”

Leliana's brow furrowed as she gazed into the distance, her fingers tapping against her chin. "I remember being frightened the first time it happened to me. But the sisters explained what was occurring and, in time, it simply became part of my cycle. We find our wisdom in each phase, dark and light.”

Gwen said nothing as she absorbed this new information. Her heart felt heavy with a mixture of emotions - anger, frustration, and an overwhelming sense of injustice. The concept of motherhood, a choice that should have been hers to make, had been forcefully ripped away from her grasp like so many other decisions in her life. She had never desired children, not with the cursed blood that flowed through her veins. It was not the wish for children that gnawed at her, but rather the relentless tide of her autonomy being swept away by fate's indifferent hand.

When would the taint stop taking from her?

I might never have chosen it, she thought, the steam from the bath fogging her vision, but the choice should have been mine to make. Her fingers skimmed over her scars, each one a a link to the life she had endured, a life where her will had so often been disregarded.

And yet, amid the swirling doubts and fears that threatened to pull her under, Gwen felt an ember of defiance flicker within her. She may not have control over every part of her existence, but here, in this moment, she did.

"Choices," Gwen finally said, her voice a soft echo in the steam-filled chamber, "are precious. They should belong to us, and no one else."

Wynne's gaze met hers, “You are quite right, Gwen. Perhaps one day you will be allowed this choice as well. Yet even if you do not, the burden of our monthly bleed is not the only thing that makes us women. We endure much that goes unspoken amongst mixed company, but know that you are not alone, nor are you the only woman who does not bleed.”

But she had bled, time and time again, for most of her childhood she had been covered in it. It was best she keep her rotten blood to herself, lest she corrupt some innocent soul. Did Alistair wish for children? Would he be upset if he found out she could not bear him any? Her heart clenched at the thought of disappointing him, of possibly losing his love. These were questions only he could answer, and yet she was not sure she would ever be brave enough to ask.

“You will have your hands full enough with Alistair, why you chose that man-child is beyond even my vast intellect.” Morrigan cut in as if sensing the direction of her thoughts.

"Oh, I think Alistair is a sweet boy," Leliana chimed in cheerfully. "He is so devoted to her, always making sure she is protected in battle. And he follows directions so well - I am sure that dedication translates to the bedroom as well."

Leliana winked mischievously and Gwen blushed deeply, sinking a little lower into the warm water. She splashed some water in Leliana's direction, though her embarrassment was mixed with amusement at her friend's bold teasing.

"You are terrible," Gwen admonished, though she could not keep the smile from her face.

Leliana just laughed merrily in response. "It is only because I want you to be happy."

Morrigan made a derisive snorting noise. "Yes, let us discuss the idiot’s prowess in intimate matters. A fascinating subject."

"Oh hush, Morrigan," Wynne sighed, though there was kindness in her tone rather than any real irritation. "Let the girls have their fun. Maker knows there is little enough of that in these dark times."

Gwen smiled gratefully at Wynne, always appreciative of the older mage's wisdom and patience. It was good to have this moment of lightness between them all, a temporary respite from the worries that plagued her outside this chamber. For now, she would push her fears aside, forget the choices that had been stolen from her, and simply enjoy the comfort of the bath and the companionship of the extraordinary women at her side.

As the evening began to settle in and their weary, water-wrinkled bodies yearned for rest, they made their way to the changing rooms. The servants had thoughtfully laid out clean linen clothes for them, a welcome luxury after a long day of travel. Gwen's fingers ran over the fabric, surprised by its quality. The tunic, a deep shade of red like freshly spilled wine, draped elegantly over her slender form while the dark pants hugged her strong legs. Even a bandana in the same regal hue was included among the pile of clothes meant for her. She would be taking them with her, whether it had been intended to be so or not.

A servant stood outside the changing rooms and bowed as Gwen and her companions approached. His worn shoes clicked against the stone floor as he led them down a familiar corridor lined with ornate tapestries depicting scenes of grandeur and opulence. Gwen's eyes scanned the surroundings, but she saw no sign of the men of their party. Feeling too embarrassed to ask, she followed the servant to one of the many lavishly decorated chambers that was to be her room for the night.

The door closed behind her with a resounding thud, leaving her alone in the flickering candlelight. The light of the small flame enveloped her, casting a soft golden glow across the chamber. Shadows danced and swirled along the ancient stone walls as Gwen slowly loosened the bandana that concealed her lower face. The fabric slipped away, and she rubbed at the skin made soft by their luxurious soak. Her grey eyes, reflective of the day's weariness, caught sight of her reflection in the polished metal mirror. Her disfigurements marred her reflection, and she looked away quickly, as though avoiding the truth would somehow change it.

A soft knock on the door pierced the silence, tentative yet persistent, causing Gwen to frown in confusion. Who could possibly be knocking at this late hour? She cautiously made her way towards the sound, her hand instinctively going to the dagger belted around her waist. With a swift yank, she opened the door to find Alistair standing before her, his cheeks rosy in the dim glow of the flickering torches lining the hallway. He shuffled his feet nervously, his hair still slightly damp from his recent bath.

She stood in front of him, unsure if her heart was racing from seeing him again or simply saying his name. "Alistair?" she said, the syllables falling out of her mouth hesitantly.

"Gwen." His voice caught in his throat, thick with longing as he took a hesitant step towards her as if wanting to envelop her in a hug but stopping himself short, unsure if that was what she wanted at that moment.

Noticing his hesitation, she drew him into the sanctuary of her room with a gentle tug of his wrist, closing the door upon the world and its relentless demands. She turned back to face him, his eyes searching hers, conveying a swirling mix of emotions she couldn't quite decipher.

As silence hung between them, Gwen’s heart pounded in her chest. She searched Alistair’s eyes, waiting for the unspoken question and feeling the weight of what lay beyond this moment. A flicker of uncertainty crossed his face, and for a heartbeat, she considered retreating. With no more hesitation, she surged forward, her arms wrapping around his broad frame with an almost desperate force. Alistair readily accepted her embrace, his strong arms encircling her slender waist as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

Finally, she pulled back slightly, still close enough to feel the warmth of his breath on her face. Gwen's fingers delicately traced the worry lines that creased Alistair's forehead, her touch as gentle as a feather.

"What's on your mind?"

"Ostagar," he exhaled the word like a burden. "I keep thinking... what if Duncan and I had swapped places? Is it selfish that I'm glad we didn't? Because if we had..." His voice broke off, but the soft look in his eyes said it all.

"You're allowed to want to live, your life is worth no less than Duncan’s.” She trailed her fingers down to the side of his face, his skin soft from the baths. “Do not discount all the good you have done. And if it is selfish to be glad that you didn’t die instead of him, then I must be the most selfish person in the world for nothing makes me happier than being with you.”

Without any forewarning, he drew her close and pressed his lips against hers in a fervent, desperate kiss. It was a moment of raw emotion, a release of all his fears, wants, and dreams. In that single touch, he conveyed gratitude for their existence together, and an unspoken understanding of the shared trauma they had both endured. As their bodies pressed against each other, it was a flame ignited against the encroaching darkness, the rest of the world fading away as they lost themselves in each other's arms.

Before she fully registered what was happening, the backs of her knees met the softness of her bed, and a startled gasp escaped her as Alistair's momentum pushed them both onto the yielding mattress. Instinctively, he let go of her, placing his arms on either side of her torso to absorb the impact and prevent his weight from crushing her. His eyes widened in panic as he searched her face for any sign of distress.

"Are you—?" he began, his voice laced with concern, but Gwen silenced him with a burning kiss, pulling him down by the collar of his newly gifted tunic. Alistair's warmth enveloped her, his body pressing against hers in a heady blend of safety and desire. She could feel the contours of his form beneath her fingers, every ridge and muscle igniting a longing that pulsed through her. Yet, hesitation knotted in her veins - fear whispered that such intimacy might unveil the jagged parts of herself she wished to keep hidden. Her breath caught as she weighed the urge to pull away, but just then, he shifted closer, pinning her softly against the mattress. The heat of his hips against hers sent a delicious thrill coursing through her core. His sturdy frame offered a sense of security, grounding her against the looming threat of the Calling that sought to pull her away from this precious moment.

They lingered in the embrace, lost in a world where only the two of them existed - insulated from the relentless tide of duty and dread that loomed outside the chamber's walls.

Alistair drew back, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to catch his breath. His pupils were blown wide with desire, fixated on the woman in front of him with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. "I want to touch you," he whispered, his voice laced with a raw longing that mirrored her own. Despite her own desperate need, she couldn't help but instinctively recoil, an involuntary reaction ingrained from a lifetime of rejection.

A fleeting shadow of doubt and hesitation crossed his features as he observed her retreat from him. "Is it because... you truly don't want me to?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Or are you just afraid that when I see you, feel all of you, that I will pull away from you?"

Her eyes were glassy and wide, reflecting the intensity of his gaze as he loomed over her. His lips had left hers swollen and aching, yet she couldn't help but let out a soft moan as his weight pressed down on her. She was captivated by him, trapped in a moment of passion that she never wanted to end. Every inch of her body longed to be beneath him, to feel his touch and his breath on her skin.

“You don’t have to be afraid, Gwen,” he said, his voice low and reassuring. “You’re gorgeous - every part of you. I want to be close to you, to touch you, if that’s something you want too.”

Gwen shook her head, blinking as she fought back tears of frustration that threatened to spill down her ruined cheeks. He didn’t know that, he may say it, but how could he be sure? How did he not understand that she was a monster, and monsters were not beautiful?

The brush of his lips against hers pulled her from her dark thoughts, unable to fight against the ease that filled her upon his embrace.

“I love you, Gwen,” he murmured against her lips, his hand caressing her cheek with such tender care it felt like it might shatter her. Her heart raced, nearly choking her as she searched his warm brown eyes, finding only sincerity and love reflected there.

Gwen's breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening in shock. The words he spoke echoed in her mind, each syllable crashing against the walls she had built around her heart. She wanted to scream, to laugh, to cry all at once, and yet found herself utterly speechless. Fear surged within her, paralyzing her as she wrestled with the overwhelming truth of his confession. Could he really mean it? The very thought sent a jolt of panic through her, and all she could do was stare wide-eyed, grappling with the weight of his love.

Alistair was different than anyone she’d ever known. Patient, gentle, unwavering in his affections. He sought out her touch, when her strange appearance drew stares, he looked at her as though she were the most beautiful thing in the world. With him, she almost felt deserving of the love he so freely gave.

And yet, the insidious whispers in her mind remained. What if she wasn't enough? What if one day, he realized she was too broken, too odd, too difficult to love? Gwen yearned to believe she was worthy of him, but a lifetime of fear and self-hatred held her back. Her hands were stained with blood and there was nothing she could do to wash it away.

Gently, Alistair cradled her face in his calloused hands, his thumb brushing away the tears that had escaped her notice, leaving a warm trail of comfort against her skin.

“It’s okay,” he said, his voice laced with understanding. “You don’t have to say anything right now. I know this is all a bit overwhelming. Just… take your time, alright? I’m here.”

Gwen’s head shook and she carded her fingers through his short hair, the soft strands soothing her nerves. “No, that’s not it, I just— You’re everything I never knew I wanted, you make me feel things I never thought possible for someone like me. It just makes my heart race and I’m so afraid of what this means and what I might… lose.”

He opened his mouth to argue, his expression a mix of concern and disbelief at her words, but she silenced him with a firm but gentle kiss. "Please, just let me say this. If I don’t get it out now, I might lose my chance."

Alistair's eyes widened, a flicker of understanding crossing his face, and he nodded, his focus on her unwavering as she took a breath to continue.

“You’ve shown me what it means to be cared for. To feel… wanted. I never thought I was worthy of something like that. When I’m with you, I feel like maybe I could. You make me feel like I’m not a monster, and before you, I never once in my life felt that way. But I… I’ve done so many terrible things, I’ve hurt people, my very existence is a threat, and I’m the reason Lucy—” Gwen cut herself off, feeling like her throat was closing up, tears falling in earnest. "I can't change what I am."

Alistair leaned back just enough to gaze into her eyes, cradling her face in his hands to ensure she felt his sincerity.

“Gwen, please listen to me,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring. “The past is behind us. You can’t change what’s already happened, but you have the power to choose who you want to be from this moment forward.”

Gwen searched his face, desperate for any hint of doubt or rejection, but all she found was a deep well of love and unwavering understanding.

She took a shuddering breath. "What if... what if I hurt you?" She whispered brokenly.

Alistair’s gaze softened, and he brushed away her tears with gentle hands.

"You could never hurt me," he said with conviction. "I trust you completely."

Gwen’s breath caught at his words, leaving her momentarily speechless. This man, despite everything she had shared about her past, everything he had seen her do, was willing to trust her completely. It was almost too much to bear.

"I don't deserve you.” Her voice broke around the words, her chin wobbling.

Alistair's lips curved into a sad smile, and he gently brushed his lips against her forehead.

"While I wish you thought otherwise, you don't have to believe it, Gwen," he said. "You just have to let me love you the way I know you deserve.”

Gwen's gaze met Alistair's, and a wave of emotion washed over her. She felt her heart swell with love, a warm and overwhelming feeling that made her chest ache. How could she have been so lucky to have this man in her life? He was more than she ever dreamed of - kind, loving, and understanding. As she looked at him, she saw herself reflected in his eyes - not as the monster she had always believed herself to be, but as a woman worthy of love and affection.

Unable to contain her feelings any longer, Gwen threw her arms around Alistair and pulled him into a fierce kiss. It was like an explosion inside of her, all of her fears and doubts melting away in the heat of their passion. Alistair held her close, his touch both gentle and firm as he deepened the kiss with equal fervour.

"I love you, Alistair," she whispered against his lips.

She felt a slow smile crept across his face. “Did you just say what I think you said?” he asked incredulously, trying to suppress a laugh of disbelief. “Because if you did, I’m going to kiss you again.”

Surprise washed over Gwen as she saw the delight in Alistair’s expression. “Yes, I love you,” she reaffirmed, her flat nose nudging against his encouragingly.

Alistair's joy was palpable, and he chuckled, tension melting away from his body as he said, “Well then, prepare yourself, because I’m going to kiss you senseless now.” As his lips met hers again, the touch was firm and passionate, igniting a spark that flared between them, leaving Gwen breathless and full of warmth. When they finally pulled apart, her heart raced, and with a deep breath, she found herself caught in the moment. “I want you to touch me,” she murmured, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. The words seemed to hang in the air, a tremulous note of want that resonated in the intimate space between them.

The corners of Alistair’s mouth curled into a smile, a blend of relief and reverence flooding his features, as if he had finally received the answer he had longed for. With an air of sacred intimacy, he closed the distance between them once more.

Alistair's lips brushed the sharp line of her jaw, his kiss a gentle whisper against her worn skin. The room fell into a hushed silence, broken only by the light rustle of wind through the trees outside, rattling the window as he moved with deliberate tenderness. Gwen’s breath hitched, the sensation of being cherished so profoundly foreign to her that it nearly overwhelmed her, stirring a mix of wonder and vulnerability deep within.

"Beautiful," he murmured, each word imprinted onto her flesh like a benediction as he traced the column of her neck. His lips paused over the discoloured and rough band of skin there. She could feel him grin against her flesh when he added, "And still wearing my necklace."

She nodded, the leather and wolf’s tooth necklace he had crafted holding more than just a token of a kill - it was the weight of his regard, an affection she was only beginning to allow herself to believe in. Alistair's hands encircled her wrists, his thumbs brushing over the faint marks left by the shackles she’d worn for most of her childhood, the shackles Lucy had freed her from. The affection in his touch spoke volumes, reassuring her of her worth in a way words never could.

"Is this alright?" he asked, his fingers moving to hover at the hem of her shirt, granting her the power to halt or hasten their progress.

Wordlessly, Gwen caught the fabric between her fingers and pulled it over her head. It was an act of trust, a surrendering to the moment that coaxed a gentle chuckle from Alistair as the garment fell away. His gaze lingered on the jagged reminder of the ogre's wrath etched across her torso. She saw concern flicker in his eyes, the shadow of fear that he might harm her without intention - how he’d almost lost her just days ago.

"Hey," she whispered, capturing his gaze with her own. "I'm alright. I'm here."

The plea in her voice was not lost on him. With a surge of urgency, he closed the space between them, his mouth finding hers once more. The kiss was desperate, hungry - filled with every unspoken promise and silent apology that had passed between them. His hips pressed into hers once more, a moan slipping from her lips - a sound so raw and honest it embarrassed her. Yet, Alistair revelled in it, his own pleasure evident in the hardness between his legs.

As Alistair's hands moved over her body, Gwen couldn't help but let out a soft sigh of contentment. His touch was gentle and sure, like a slow breeze on a spring day, easing away the tension that had been building within her for so long. Even as he touched her back, the worst of her scars, he did not shrink away, and relief spread through her limbs like a drug.

She closed her eyes and let herself sink into the sensation, every nerve ending sparking to life under his caress. She felt safe in his arms, protected and cherished in a way she had never experienced before.

Alistair’s fingers glided up her arms, a hot trail of sensation sparking goosebumps across her skin. The urge to reciprocate his tender touch surged within her, compelling her to run her hands over his back, feeling the hard muscles tense beneath the fabric of his shirt. In response, he nuzzled his face against her neck, his warmth enveloping her as he nipped gently at the sensitive skin beneath her ear, sending shivers racing down her spine.

His hands hovered over her collarbone, the heat of his touch heating her skin, and she felt a rush of conflicting emotions: elation at his desire and panic at the thought of exposing herself fully to him. The urge to pull away warred with the longing to revel in his affection. As her breath quickened, she met his gaze - a silent plea for reassurance as she fought to suppress the tide of self-doubt threatening to pull her under.

"We can stop whenever you want," he murmured. "Just say the word.”

“I thought you were supposed to be the one who wasn’t ready,” she breathed, deflecting in an attempt to hide from the fear that was still there, lurking beneath the surface. Yet she couldn’t deny the exhilaration of being touched, of being wanted.

Alistair chuckled against her skin, his breath hot and ragged. “I may have been hesitant before,” he admitted. “But seeing you now…all I can think about is touching you, as long as you would still like it, of course.”

She gave a small nod, “Please.” Since when did she beg?

But all thoughts were scattered to the stars as Alistair's hands moved once again, this time cupping her breasts through the fabric of her breastband. She let out a shaky breath at the sensation, equal parts nervous and aroused.

Alistair's eyes were fixed on her face, carefully watching for any sign of discomfort or hesitation. But as his hands continued to caress her, she couldn't help but relax into the sensation. With each passing second, she leaned back into his touch, feeling the gentle pressure against her skin creating a wave of pleasure that spread throughout her entire body.

Alistair's fingers trembled slightly above the band that confined her. She held her breath, a mix of anticipation and anxiety coursing through her veins. His gaze flickered up to her eyes and then back to the fabric, as if seeking her silent approval before making the next move. With careful, deliberate movements, he unfastened the breastband, the fabric slipping away to reveal her chest to him fully.

The cool air brushed against her skin, causing her to shiver. Alistair's eyes widened in a blend of surprise and wonder, the reverence in his expression igniting a fire within her. He reached out tentatively, his fingers skimming over her breasts, exploring the soft contours with a gentleness that took her breath away.

Gwen's pulse quickened, every nerve ending alight with sensation. Alistair’s touch was tentative but filled with a hesitance that echoed their shared inexperience. She watched him with bated breath, gauging his every reaction, a mixture of shyness and desire swirling in her chest. As his fingers glided over her skin, a gasp escaped her lips - an instinctual response to the unexpected pleasure that radiated through her.

With a cautious curiosity, Alistair's thumb brushed against her nipple, eliciting another involuntary gasp from Gwen. The sensation was electric, sending shivers coursing through her body. She watched him closely, her heart racing, as a spark of discovery flickered in his eyes. It was clear he was testing this new terrain, his fingers lingering with uncertainty, yet also with a burgeoning confidence.

“Is this okay?” he murmured, his gaze searching hers with a mixture of earnestness and vulnerability. Gwen nodded, unable to find her voice as she arched into the touch, encouraging him silently.

Feeling a surge of boldness, Alistair began to explore more deliberately, his fingers tracing around her nipple with a gentle pressure that made her cheeks flush with desire and she let out a low, guttural moan that made Alistair groan in response. With each tentative caress, she sensed his nervousness ebbing away, replaced by a need to learn what made her respond.

“Maker's breath, you have no idea what you do to me.” His eyes darkened with desire as he studied her, his breath coming in quick bursts, mirroring the quickening pulse in her chest.

Gwen's heart swelled with pride and joy at his words, her eyes unable to hide the unguarded admiration she felt for him. The scars on her body seemed to fade away in his gaze, as if they no longer held any weight or importance. Alistair looked at her like she was the most precious thing in the world, and at that moment, she almost believed it. Unable to contain herself, she pulled him into a passionate kiss, pouring all of her longing and gratitude into it.

Gwen felt Alistair’s hands on her skin, warmth blooming in places she had long thought cold, trailing kisses down her body. But a flash of fear shattered her moment of peace. Her body tensed, and she instinctively recoiled. Alistair noticed immediately, his brow furrowing with concern. "Is it too much?" he asked, pulling back just enough to search her eyes, his own filled with genuine care. The worry etched on his face made her heart flutter, breathing light into the corners of her darkest fears. For a moment, it felt as if a protective bubble surrounded them, shielding her from the past that haunted her.

Gwen shook her head, a shy smile touching her lips as clarity returned. No one had ever touched her so tenderly before. Alistair's fingers trailed down to her stomach the still healing scar stretched over the surface, and he traced the jagged line with reverence, his mouth placing feather-light kisses along it. He knelt on the floor at the end of the bed, continuing to press his lips against the scar, her hips, any part of her that he could reach. She sighed, the tension in her body unwinding. His hands moved lower, fingers grazing the edge of her trousers. He glanced up at her, silently asking permission.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Gwen's question was one of breathless curiosity.

"Zevran may be insufferable at times," Alistair admitted, "and I have tried my best to ignore everything he suggests regarding intimate matters, but there is only so much I can block out. And I must admit - though never to him - there is one thing he spoke of that I would very much like to try. Would you like me to?" He let his fingers toy with the band of her pants, his movements halting as he sought her permission.

Gwen's pulse raced as it dawned on her what he intended to do. "Yes," she said, giving herself no time to listen to anything but her instinct, the word laced with a tremor as she lifted her hips in acquiescence. He slid the fabric down her long legs, her smalls coming with it, exposing her completely to his hungry gaze. Gwen's body reacted with a shiver, torn between wanting to be seen and wanting to hide away. She couldn't bear the thought of his judgment on her naked form, so she shielded herself by covering her face with an arm.

Alistair murmured soothingly and gently pulled Gwen's arm away from her face. "My love, you have nothing to hide from me.”

Gwen pursed her lips against the slew of self-hating vitriol that threatened to spew forth.

He ran his hands reverently over the marred skin of her torso and legs, his touch full of devotion. "You are breathtaking, Gwen. Let me show you just how much I mean that.”

With that promise lingering in the air, his hands continued their tender exploration, gliding over her hips before slipping lower. Gwen gasped as Alistair's fingers trailed through her folds, wet and swollen in her desire for him. The sensation was unfamiliar yet intoxicatingly welcomed. She instinctively arched into his touch, yearning for the delightful friction that ignited her senses. A low groan escaped him at her responsive eagerness, and he trembled, fighting the primal urge to claim her completely.

Alistair watched her reactions closely, ready to pull back at the first sign of discomfort. But Gwen only moaned softly, a blush spreading down her shoulders as her legs fell open in permission and invitation. Alistair let out a shaky breath as he gently stroked along her cunt, his fingers slick with her need for him. Though his movements were tentative at first, once he found that aching bundle of nerves that made her arch off the bed, he quickly learned a rhythm that had Gwen writhing beneath him. Her murmured sounds of enjoyment emboldened him, and he slid a finger inside her slick entrance as his thumb continued massaging her sensitive bud.

Gwen’s body shook as he entered her, the feeling indescribable in its intensity, his rough finger providing pressure within her that only added to the tingling pleasure he had pulled from her clit.

Alistair kissed a meandering path up her thigh as her hips bucked beneath his hand, his stubble tickling her sensitive skin.

When he reached her lower stomach, so close to her sex that all he could smell was how badly she wanted him, he paused to look up at her, stopping his ministrations and eliciting a whine of dismay from her. Before he could ask her if she did still want this, she beat him to it.

“Are you sure you want to do this? There are other things we can do that you would likely enjoy more.” She could see his eyes flicker hungrily towards where his hand lay buried, his tongue darting over his lips as his eyes darkened.

His head shook. “I am positive I will enjoy this. I’ve been wondering for far too long how you would taste. Will you allow me to satisfy that curiosity?”

Gwen's breath caught in her throat as Alistair's words enveloped her like a warm embrace. A whirlwind of emotions surged within her: a heady blend of desire, nervousness, and an exhilarating sense of empowerment that she had never before experienced.

With a decisive nod, Gwen offered him her permission. Alistair’s smile ignited her from within, and he wrapped his arms beneath her hips, pulling her to the edge of the bed. His eyes sparkled with excitement as he dipped his head between her legs.

When his tongue parted her already dripping folds, it felt as if the world had tilted on its axis. Gwen thought she might have melted right then, her senses overwhelmed with the waves of pleasure crashing through her. When he found her swollen bud and sucked it into his mouth, a desperate cry escaped her lips, raw and unrestrained. Her hands fisted in the sheets, helplessly tangled in the overwhelming sensations, longing for more yet teetering on a precipice she had never known.

Alistair sensed her impending release and slowed his movements, granting her a fleeting moment to catch her breath. He took his time, exploring every inch of her with a skillful tongue, drawing out pleasures she had only dared to dream about.

His hands gripped her hips possessively as he savoured her, his tongue teasing and flicking over her sensitive flesh. Gwen felt herself spiralling into a hazy bliss, coherence slipping away as Alistair brought her closer and closer to the edge. Just when she thought she couldn’t bear it any longer, he added a finger, thrusting it inside her while continuing his tantalizing assault on her clit.

The moment he struck the perfect rhythm, Gwen cried out, her body surrendering to the intensity of the orgasm that washed over her like a tidal wave, pleasure radiating from her fingertips to her toes. Alistair didn’t relent; he continued to worship her until she was trembling and breathless, begging for him to stop.

Finally, he relented and moved up to capture her lips in a deep kiss, tasting herself on him - intimate and delicious. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close, her heart swelling with an uncertainty that felt akin to home. At that moment, she knew she would never want to let him go again.

As they both caught their breath, Alistair rolled off Gwen, yet he stayed close, wrapping her in his arms and pulling her against his chest. The warmth shared between them created a cocoon of intimacy, and they reclined in comfortable silence, the air thick with unspoken feelings. Time seemed to stretch as they savoured the quietude, a gentle rhythm of heartbeats filling the space. After a few moments, Alistair turned to her, breaking the peaceful stillness, his voice low as if not wanting to shatter the delicate moment.

"Was that alright?" He asked, a hint of masculine pride in his tone.

Gwen smiled, happier and more sated than she could ever remember being. "It was perfect.”

Gwen nestled her head against Alistair's chest, listening to the steady thrum of his pulse. It was a sound that spoke of life, of survival - of a future uncertain yet no longer faced alone. He smelled faintly of sweat from his recent exertions and the herbal soaps from the bathing chamber, a comforting scent.

"Are you warm enough?" Alistair's voice was a hushed whisper, tinged with concern. The gentle brush of his fingers across her scarred back was both an inquiry and an affirmation. Here, in the dark, with only the shadows to witness, Gwen allowed herself to be vulnerable, her usual armour set aside.

"More than," she murmured, the heat from both their bodies plenty. She had survived much harsher conditions than this. Gwen felt Alistair's lips press a tender kiss atop her head, silently acknowledging her words.

As they lay there, Gwen's thoughts meandered through the winding paths of what-ifs and maybes. She thought about the Calling that haunted her every moment, both awake and at rest, the gnawing fear of the Darkspawn taint within her veins. But in Alistair's arms, those fears receded like the tide, replaced by a blossoming hope that perhaps she could belong after all - at least to him.

"Thank you," she whispered, not just for the physical closeness but for the understanding that bridged the gaps between them. For the laughter that chased away her darkest thoughts, for the acceptance that mended the fractures in her soul.

Alistair's response was a soft rumble, a sound that vibrated through her in a comforting resonance. "There's nothing to thank me for, Gwen. This is where I want to be. Here, with you."

In the stillness, with the night pressing against the windowpanes, Gwen allowed herself to imagine a different kind of future - one where her past and her blood did not define her, but by the choices she made and the bonds she formed. And as sleep began to claim her, lulled by the cadence of Alistair's heartbeat and the gentle rise and fall of his chest, Gwen realized that this, here, was what it meant to feel truly alive.

This is what she had been searching for.

Next Chapter

A/N: Long chapter is long. I probably should have split it up but… I didn't want to. There's only one other chapter that's longer than this one, but I hope you enjoyed it!!

Not pictured in the baths scene: Darcy twirling up a towel to whip Alistair across the ass like an annoying little brother.