#koh fan

[baldwinivmybeloved]

꒰ ͟͡ || ͟͡ ꒱ 𒁍 MASTERLIST⠀⠀⠀⠀⬤⬮ BALDWIN X READER FICS

"This post contains the chapters of my 2 fics published to date"

Slave to your heart completed The rose and the king in publication

°:. *₊ ° .THE KING AND THE ROSE ★ . ° ₊ *

ALLISHAH X BALDWIN IV

In a land marked by the sands of time and whispers of betrayal, a story of love, revenge, and faith unfolds. At the heart of the kingdom, King Baldwin IV, a figure shrouded in mystery and power, faces the challenges of a tumultuous world.Allishah, a young woman of celestial beauty and naive spirit, finds herself ensnared in a game of intrigue when her mother marries the infamous Reynald de Chatilleau. Manipulated by her mother's cunning and desired by all, Allishah struggles to find her own path amidst shadows that conceal secrets and broken promises List of charpers

➜ ꜝ🦢﹒ Slave to your heart ⌗

XICA x BALDWIN IV

“Xica, a beautiful slave girl, the illegitimate daughter of an African woman and a French count of white complexion, whose father was executed in his homeland. The African slave was forced to flee with her daughter to the lands of Jerusalem. But fate changes; young girls become more beautiful as time passes, more graceful. Having a beautiful body is both a curse and a blessing for a slave; it could not bring much benefit except that her beauty and the kindness with which she was blessed would help her to win over the leprous king.”

“list of chapters

Charper one

Charper Two

Charper Three

Charper Four

Charper Five

Charper Six

Charper Seven

Charper Eight

Charper Nine

Charper Ten

Charper Eleven

Charper Twelve

Charper Thirteen

Charper Fourteen

Charper Fifteen

Charper Sixteen

Charper Seventeen

Charper Eighteen

Charper Nineteen

Charper twenty

Charper Twenty One

Charper Twenty Two

Charper Twenty Three

Charper Twenty Four

Charper Twenty Five

Charper Twenty Six

Charper Twenty Seven

Charper Twenty Eight

Charper twenty Nine

Charper Thirty

Charper Thirty One

FINAL CHARPER + 3 finals

[milaeryn]

Imagine if King Baldwin was married...

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

I have literally read all you stories and im so so impressed. Im not sure if your taking requests or if. If not than im very sorry. If yes then could you please write one where a modern doctor ends up being reborn as a Nobel princess who is about to marry king baldwin. She could then cure him.

♧ A Better Life - King Baldwin x Reader ♧

♧ Angst ♧

A/N: HELLO FRIENDS!!! I am back officially now!! Exams are over and the school year is done! I am so exited to be back!! Anon thank you so much for this beautiful request. This took me so long and I really hope you like it!!! This was an amazing one to return with, I hope yall enjoy it!!. As always this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

TW: Leprosy, Slight mention of blood

Y/n remembered little to nothing from that night.

Simply getting into her car late, well after the sun had set, and driving. Then the lights. Then the crash. Everything else was fuzzy. Even in her life before the crash, the only knowledge she seemed to remember was what she had learnt in medical school all those years ago.

Nothing about her beautiful rooftop apartment where she lived alone. And certainly not the crippling loneliness she dreaded returning to every night after work at the hospital.

------------------------------

Y/n’s eyes flew open and she sat up with a gasp, clutching at her pounding heart. After a few seconds of panic, she looked up at her surroundings.

There was no car, no wreckage, no blood.

Just a plush, white sheeted, four poster bed that held her trembling form. The curtains that hung around the top of the bed shrouded her view of the rest of the room, but from what she could see, an open balcony window allowed sun to shine through and into the large, beautifully decorated stone room.

Confusion soon replaced fear in the young doctor's mind. Was she in a hospital? No, it wasn't sterile enough to be a hospital. There was no beeping of machines, no bustling nurses. Something she was all too familiar with.

She tried to think back to what had happened, but all she could remember was the crash. Nothing else. Y/n pulled back the covers and cautiously stepped out of the bed. She barely got one foot on the ground before the large, wooden doors opened to reveal young woman carrying a tray with an assortment of dishes that y/n had never seen in her life.

“Good morning my lady” the young woman said with a smile, approaching y/n’s bedside.

“Good morning,” the doctor replied, trying to hide the confusion in her voice.

“I hope you are excited for today my lady, everybody in the maids chamber surely is!” the young woman said, her bright eyes practically glowing.

“I'm- excited for what?” y/n replied cautiously.

“Well your wedding of course, everybody has been anticipating this day for months now! Our kingdom will finally have a queen!” she was grinning now, y/n couldn't help but smile despite her confusion.

“Oh- yes! How could I have forgotten” the doctor said, once again attempting to hide the fact she had no idea where she was.

After the maid had left, y/n inspected the food. It looked delicious but eating was the last thing on her mind, for now. She slipped out of the bed to take a look around the room. There were books stacked on a shelf, a desk, a face washing basin and lots and lots of religious imagery, painted in typical pre-renaissance fashion.

Judging by the beautiful stone walls, she was most definitely not in the twenty-first century anymore. Nothing was boring and white. No white walls, no white marble countertops. Everything was handmade. Genuine. It was certainly a changeup from the old routine.

You see, y/n was intelligent. She always had been and on top of this, her years as a surgeon had taught her to act reasonable, calm, and logical even in the most outlandish situations.

Waking up in a different time period after a car wreck was no different.

She had to think of a plan.

“It's morning, people should be expecting me somewhere soon”. Turning to the bookshelf, y/n picked up a book and opened it. Handwritten. In Hebrew.

“That should place me somewhere in Israel, perhaps Jerusalem” she thought.

“And it's definitely before the renaissance, but after the birth of Christ”.

Placing the book back on the shelf, y/n continued to think. She had to figure out where she was and fast.

Y/n turned her attention to the other side of the room. The bed, a couch, and the open balcony doors. Approaching the balcony, y/n looked outside inspecting the area around the building she was in.

Knights. Many knights.

“Medieval “ was the first word that came to mind.

“That should place me somewhere around the 12th century-” was the last thing her mind concluded before the wooden doors opened again.

Six maids came into the room, each carrying something different. Some carried jewelry, some hairbrushes and combs, and others beautiful white fabric that appeared to be some kind of dress.

“Oh my lady, you have barely touched your breakfast!” one of them exclaimed as y/n entered the room from the balcony.

“You will need your strength for today!”

“Oh I'm terribly sorry, I forgot all about it! I was just getting some fresh air, I'm a little nervous” y/n said as calmly as she could, praying that they didn't notice something was off.

“That's alright dear” the oldest of the maids said, “it doesn't matter now because we need to get you dressed! Come, sit” she gestured to a vanity mirror and chair that y/n hadn't even noticed. 

--------------------------------

It felt like hours that the doctor sat in that chair, as the maids worked tirelessly on her hair and face. Braiding and brushing, applying makeup and finally helping her into the beautiful white dress robes.

They fit perfectly, just like a glove. As if they were made for just her and her alone.

“You look immaculate, your majesty,” one of the maids said, taking a step back to admire their future queen. Y/n smiled, for a moment forgetting her predicament.

It felt as though she had lived in this world her entire life.

“Come now darling, we don't want to keep the guests waiting!” the oldest maid said, taking the doctor's hand and leading her towards the door. Y/n followed blindly.

“This should be interesting,” she muttered.

-------------------------------

It was a short walk from her chambers to the church. There were already plenty of people waiting inside. Y/n barely had any time to think before a bouquet of flowers were shoved into her hands and she was walking down the aisle, people standing left and right staring at her.

Taking a deep breath, y/n steadied her hands and continued walking at a slow, measured pace.

“Come on y/n, this has to be the least nerve racking thing you've done all week”.

Looking up, she could see her “future husband” standing at the end of the aisle. It was strange, she couldn't see his face, he was wearing white robes and a veil that shrouded his features almost entirely. But from what she could see, it appeared he was wearing some kind of mask.

Then it all connected.

Not only had y/n taken a myriad of science and math subjects in highschool, she had also taken an ancient history class. One unit had specifically focused on the “Leper King of Jerusalem, Baldwin IV”. This must have been him.

As she approached the end of the aisle, her mind wandered to a patient she had treated with severe leprosy, contracted while he was on a tropical holiday. She remembered how much pain he had been in and her heart broke thinking about this poor king who had gone untreated for so long.

She was only snapped out of her thoughts when she came face to face with her soon to be husband. His eyes met hers and what she thought would have been a neutral feeling (since she did not yet know this man at all) turned quickly to a feeling that she had not experienced in what felt like years.

Love.

The doctor's heart skipped a beat looking into those eyes. Those beautiful, blue eyes. The mask he wore was polished to perfection, the metal was perfectly shaped into sculpted, masculine features.

He was beautiful.

Y/n was far too focused on just how captivating the man who stood before her was to pay any attention to whatever the priest was saying, until once again she was snapped out of thought by the large crowd cheering as they were pronounced husband and wife, in the name of the Lord.

-------------------------------

Later on, the guests had left and all had returned to somewhat calm after a day of celebration. Y/n was slightly shy at first during the celebrations, doing everything in her power to read the room and understand her place in this new world. But after a while, she began to enjoy herself.

Her “husband” had barely spoken a word all day, but she had caught him looking at her as she talked with his sister and associates. She was told by a few maids that after getting changed from her wedding attire, she would go and meet privately with her new husband.

She was nervous, but not even half as nervous as somebody else was...

Baldwin paced up and down his chambers until his legs were in agony. The day had been strenuous on his body and the pacing did not help.

The young king slumped down on his couch, cursing his frail body. He had watched her all day, his wonderful y/n. So full of life, so intelegent, speaking with everyone and enjoying her time while all he could do was sit and watch.

Oh how he had wished to join her, to dance with her, to speak with her, to hear every word her beautiful voice had to say, to look into her eyes. Those perfect eyes.

He hoped that she knew just how much he had fallen for her, even though they had not spoken a single word all day.

He cursed the mask that shrouded his emotions, forcing him to look cold and stern when all he wanted was her to know how warmly and deeply he felt for her. Baldwin sunk deeper into the couch cushions. His body craved sleep, craved a break from the pain. But he couldn't. He had to see her right this instant.

Taking a deep breath, or as deep as his failing lungs could take, the young king sat up and stared down into his hands, anticipating the moment y/n knocked on his door.

He did not have to wait long because no more than a minute after he sat up, a small knock came from the wooden door. Baldwin got to his feet, perhaps too fast. He steadied himself and called for her to enter. Y/n pushed open the door. She looked as beautiful as she did in her wedding dress.

“Good evening your majesty” she said with a graceful curtsey.

“Hello” he replied, suddenly feeling incredibly shy.

Y/n smiled. He was truly adorable. He looked so soft and warm in those robes. Good lord what was she thinking? She had barely met this man and yet she was acting like a teenager in love!

“Would you like to take a seat?” he offered, his voice gentle and kind. “Of course,” she replied. The two sat in silence for a moment. But it was not an awkward silence, more of a comfortable silence as the young couple took each other in.

It wasn't long before they got to talking. Two intelligent, young minds in the same room were bound to connect almost instantly. And that's just what they did.

Y/n tried to not say anything about her “world of the future”. That was until they were brought to the topic of his disease.

“So, you have no issue in being wed to a leper?” Baldwin had asked, his voice growing sad. Her heart broke for him in an instant, remembering how terribly people with his disease were treated at this time.

“Of course I don't” the doctor replied.

Her kind voice soothed something deep inside Baldwin. Something untouched for so many years. His eyes burned with tears but he dare not  let one fall.

“Really?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly.

“Of course! All I see is a beautiful, young man with a bright future. And from what I've heard, you're a wonderful ruler, and I know you will be a wonderful husband too”.

Baldwin smiled beneath the mask. He hoped she could see the smile through his eyes. Y/n took a deep breath before her next choice of words.

“You know, where I come from, lepers can be healed,” she said softly. Baldwin’s eyes widened.

“Truely?” he said in disbelief.

“Yes, but you can not tell anyone”

“I won't, of course! Please, share this with me” the young king said in a hushed voice taking her hands in his.

“Alright. I'm going to need a few things to do it and it may take a while-”

“Please, y/n. I'll do anything” Baldwin was on the verge of tears now. “Now I have you, I have a reason to live. I need to live, please” he begged.

Y/n’s heart sank as his previously strong demeanor shattered into a thousand pieces before her very eyes. As gently as she could, y/n wrapped her arms around her husband, pulling him into a gentle yet firm hug.

At that moment, the young doctor understood why all of this had happened. She was brought here for a reason. To cure this poor young man, to show him the love he deserves and to have a better life by his side.

“I promise Baldwin, I’ll make you well again. No matter what it takes. I'll do it”

[madbedlam]

++

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[dark-raven-666]

Reader tells Baldwin IV that he is beautiful.

Tags: fluff, reader is Baldwin's childhood best friend.

Warnings: mentions of leprosy and death?

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

He turned slowly, the silver of his mask glinting in the light. Behind the mask, a pair of blue eyes: the left as clear as a crystal, the right cloudy and bloodshot framed by a marred, disfigured eyelid.

"You came" he said almost in a whisper.

"I promised didn't I? " she responded, with a smile on her face. She was the kings childhood best friend who he had finally found again. Before she disappeared she swore to always find him when he called.

"I hear you still enjoy chess. " She sayd her voice soft.

All he could do was stand there, still and frozen as if the time had stopped, then he spoke in a whisper "yes".

The two kept staring at each other as she sat across him on the table. She would have spoken, asked him how he had been, yet from the state of his bandaged body and masked face, she knew.

Then she says "I heard you won a great victory at sixteen."

The king’s brows raised slightly, a flicker of surprise passing across his features. “Strategy and tactics are what ultimately won me the day, despite what the odds were.”

She smiled and proceeded to speak "You think you only won because of that? Salahuddin is a smart man, he has conquered many lands. I believe the Lord was in your side".

The king only looked at the lady before him. Waiting for her to continue speaking.

"If it was not God then something was wrong that day. Salahuddin never acts in rage, he thinks and calculates. Something happened that drove him to be careless" the lady spoke as if she truly was curious as to what had been troubling the Muslim warrior that day.

All Baldwin could do was nod and say "Perhaps you are right. His rage may have blinded him, given me the opening I needed.”

They looked at each other for a moment each gazing into the others eyes.

She broke the silence and said "you do not belong in Jerusalem."

The king’s eyes narrowed slightly, and his head cocked to one side. “What makes you say that?” He questioned, his tone curious rather than angry.

"I know you are a religious man but you are also a leper. This hot climate will bring upon your death faster. " She spoke, her words cutting his heart, yet he knew she was right. The holy city, a hot city in Palestine was no place for a leper.

The king stiffened ever so slightly, and he was silent for a moment. “You are correct.” He eventually muttered. “The climate of Jerusalem is not suitable for those with my illness. The warmer the conditions, the more rapidly the leprosy spreads.”

He looked down at the table, avoiding her gaze. “Unfortunately, I know not where to go. "

"Are you not French? Go to France, visit your home land, and if it does not feel right, go else. You will find home eventually" She said her voice growing quieter towards the end.

A pause, as the king considered her suggestion. “France…” He mused quietly. “I have not been there since.... I do not remember.”

A soft exhale, almost like a sigh, escapes his lips. “I suppose going back is a possibility, but… I am too familiar with the land. I cannot be the warrior in which I was, the king that I am. The people will judge me, and… see me as nothing but leper.”

"It is agonizing isn't it? To have your freedom taken from you for title of king? I bet a man like you would rather be something else. " She spoke quietly, imagining him as a common man.

The king lets out a heavy, exhausted sigh, his head bowing slightly. “Indeed, it is agonizing.” He mutters, his voice thick with the weariness he is so familiar with.

“A man like me…” He repeated the words softly, his tone contemplative. “Perhaps that is true…”

" Your illness made you who you are now, they say yet all I see is a 13 year old boy wanting to play, hoping to marry, hoping to live to a 100.

Yet they are right... You would not have been as smart if the leprosy had not kept you at home, your only entertainment books. Perhaps days come when your body aches, you look at the roof of the bed and wish that you were stupid and healthy. "

The king is silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the board before him, his mind elsewhere as the woman speaks. He can only see the days in which he spent sitting inside, unable to move about and play and explore as he so desperately longed for as a child. The countless books he’d read, the stories he’d heard and the lessons he’d learned.

The years of sitting in a quiet room in his home, his only company being the books, the teachers, the family. It had been an endless cycle.

"They look at the disease and say you are ugly. I look at your eyes and say you are the most beautiful I have ever seen" Her voice had been now filled with passion and adornment for the man before her.

The king is at a loss for words, left silenced by the woman’s soft, sincere declaration. He stares at her in quiet awe, her statement taking root in his mind and leaving him stunned.

Nobody had ever seen him that way. For years, he’d been shunned and avoided. Called vile and revolting. Hideous, deformed.

He was quiet for several long moments, blinking slowly. “You… think I am beautiful…?”

"The most beautiful." She whispered and laid her hand on his gloved one.

[baudouinette]

The Leper Saint

another art that I abandoned (June) and just finished up. the little face veil was supposed to be more opaque so that it would actually serve its purpose (lol) but I spent too much time on the face to just cover it up so much ❤️‍🩹

reblogs very welcome but no reposts without permission please! (bad experience. iykyk)

-atomnolly/baudouinette on Pinterest

[tobeahundred]

“If you could, would you marry me? Right here, where it is only us and God?”

Chapter 27 is out now!

--

I know it's been forever, a lot of things in life happened. I have so much I'm so excited to share with you all ;-;

Thought it would be a nice time to post this amazing piece I had commissioned from the brilliant and talented Ioneeberuru and animated by the amazing @/gamedevducky.

Click here to read Aere Perennius on AO3!

[arioloyal]

4th june 2024

It's been a year that I got into this fandom and I've found wonderful friends. I'm so glad ✨️🌸

Specially: @kingbaldwinthe4th my pookie :)

Cr: me

[yo-yo-yoshiko]

Fun little wind downs. More like before!

[gracetheconfused]

The Phoenix of Jerusalem Chapters 5 and 6

Chapter Five: A King Alone, A Man Remembering

They were six miles from Montgisard when Baldwin dismounted for the final time that day. The sun was already low, casting long shadows that bled into the dust. His fingers were stiff. The linen beneath his gauntlets was damp with blood and sweat.

The men joked behind him, low voices crackling like firewood.

He did not stop them.

He needed the sound. It reminded him they were still alive.

"...she was a widow, and not modest about it either—said I had the hands of a priest, but the hips of a butcher—"

Laughter erupted from the group of younger knights gathered around a wineskin. Another chimed in.

"My cousin's girl in Nablus swore she'd wait for me until Pentecost."

"Which Pentecost?"

More laughter.

Baldwin sat apart from them, a cloak pulled over his shoulders, veiled as always. Not one of them noticed him listening. That was the strange advantage of disease. It turned even kings invisible in plain sight.

They spoke of lovers, of girls with strong arms and nimble fingers. Of warm thighs, stolen nights, whispered promises beneath olive trees.

He listened, expression unreadable.

And found himself—unexpectedly, helplessly—thinking of her.

Not her body. He had never allowed himself such imaginings, not clearly. Not before, and not now. He was a king, a leper, a living relic. He knew what desire could not be.

But there had been moments. Fleeting.

Her hand brushing his shoulder after a long examination. Her eyes narrowing as she threaded a needle. Her voice, unadorned by flattery, telling him when he'd grown too thin.

She saw him, and it made him... ache. Not with shame. Not even with longing.

With recognition.

This is what it means to be wanted for more than your crown.

Even as a boy, he had only ever trusted one person that way. That fig-stained girl who gave him books and made him laugh until his lungs ached.

He hadn't known what to name it then.

He still didn't now.

Only that when the world narrowed to pain or duty, her presence—Amira's presence—brought a kind of silence. A kind of peace.

At dawn, they rode into the teeth of the enemy.

The battle came fast, brutal, and sun-blinded.

He wore armor that chafed his ulcered skin. He swung a sword with a hand that barely held it. He fought with the desperation of a man whose body betrayed him every hour but who refused to die lying down.

He remembered little of the worst of it—only flashes: blood on his horse's flank. The sound of metal cracking bone. A Saracen standard falling at his feet. Pain. White, blinding, obliterating pain.

He was pulled from the wreckage at dusk, half-conscious, burning with fever.

The last thing he heard before darkness took him was a voice—not one from the battlefield.

A woman's voice.

Calm. Familiar.

Calling his name.

He awoke a day later beneath clean linens, weak as water. The scent of myrrh and herbs clung to the air. His right arm had been redressed. His fever had broken.

And at the foot of the bed sat her.

Not reading. Not preparing. Just... waiting.

She looked up when he stirred. No smile. No false softness.

Just eyes like remembered wood, and silence that carried the weight of something unspoken.

"I don't deserve you here," he rasped.

"I'm not here because you deserve me," she replied, softly. "I'm here because I chose to be."

His throat tightened. He closed his eyes.

And realized, finally, that what he had felt back then—the reason he'd followed that girl through the gardens, and remembered her laughter more vividly than any hymn—was not just loyalty or fondness.

It was the shape of a feeling he had no name for as a boy.

But he did now.

Chapter Six : The Girl Who Would Not Forget

To heal him was never about pity. It was the only way to return.

Ysolde sat at the edge of the king's chamber long after he fell asleep. His breaths were shallow but steady. The fever had broken. The worst, for now, was over.

She adjusted the linen on his forehead with practiced care, watching the faint twitch of his brow as he drifted deeper into rest.

You came back for him.

Not for gold. Not for favor. Not even for forgiveness. Only this.

It had taken everything she had.

From the ashes of her childhood, she had crossed into a world that did not welcome her. A half-Jewish girl in a foreign land, orphaned, nameless, scarred. Her father's name—once spoken with respect in Jerusalem's court—was no shield in Aleppo. No one cared who she used to be.

The wounded crusader who took her in taught her the first rule of survival: Learn quickly. Speak little. Earn your place in silence.

Ysolde had done more than that. She devoured texts in Arabic, Syriac, Latin. She snuck into anatomy lessons forbidden to women. She sewed up dying soldiers. She treated children with skin eaten by fire and watched them recover because she had acted faster than the men around her.

She was denied positions she earned. She watched less skilled men step over her. She was called a witch, a foreigner, an ornament. But no one could deny the steadiness of her hand.

Abu al-Maʿshar had been the turning point.

He never smiled. Never praised. But he kept her. And that meant more than words.

He let her copy his anatomical diagrams. He let her mix his tinctures. And once—only once—he said, "Your mind is sharper than most men's. But it is your grief that fuels you. Make sure it doesn't burn you instead."

She never told him what that grief truly was.

She had been thirteen the day she overheard it.

A merchant from Jerusalem had come through Aleppo, trading linen and dates. Ysolde was sent to fetch bandages from the man's caravan. She lingered at the edge of the firelight, listening to voices not meant for her.

They spoke of a young king. A boy.

Baldwin, son of Amalric. Crowned too young. Too sick.

"Leprosy," one of the merchants whispered.

Ysolde had dropped the jar in her hands. It shattered at her feet, unnoticed.

She had run, fast and far, until she reached the dark grove outside the infirmary. She vomited behind an oak tree and cried for the first time since her mother's voice vanished in the riots.

Not because he was king.

Because he was Baldwin.

Her friend. The boy who threw figs at her. The one who wrapped her elbow in silk when she fell and called her "dangerous and brilliant" before he even knew what either meant.

And now he was dying.

She hadn't even said goodbye.

That night, she made a vow she never spoke aloud: I will not let him be alone.

Not as long as she had breath. Not as long as her hands could hold a scalpel.

Years passed.

She earned names—Amira, the White Physician, the Lady of the Iron Needle.

But none of those names meant anything the moment she stood before Baldwin again, veiled and seated on his throne, his eyes just the same. Searching. Bright. Burdened.

He didn't know her.

But she had known him from the first breath.

She had not returned to burden him. She had no fantasies of romance, no delusions of reclaiming their childhood. That time was dead and buried with the city they once knew.

But she could give him dignity. Relief. A measure of peace, if not a cure.

That would be enough.

Tonight, she sat beside him, watching his fingers twitch in his sleep.

His hand had changed. Twisted. Scarred. But it was still his.

She remembered when it had held a feathered hawk. When it had tugged a branch low so she could steal a fig. When it had reached for hers and whispered, "You'll never fall if I'm here."

She had fallen anyway. They both had.

And now she was here. Not to ask for the past back.

But to honor it.

To stand beside him, as she once promised—quietly, steadily, until the end.

[chicken-blitz13]

Prince Baldwin IV with his hound and hawk

[baldwinivmybeloved]

I'm back sweeties! Here is a drawing of Baldwin that I tried with a new style I hope you like it (≧▽≦q)

[milaeryn]

Sometimes babygirl is a christian king that died one hundred years ago of leprosy...

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

Request: Baldwin cuddles/snuggles. Circumstance up to you, but make it as fluffy as humanly possible.

♡ Hold Me - King Baldwin x Reader ♡

♡ Fluff ♡

A/N: Hello Anon (I know who you are hehe)!! This is so cute I couldent wait to write this one, fluff is my faivorite thing ever. I hope you like it 🩷. As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

TW: Leprosy

Pain was nothing short of a constant in Baldwin’s life. His body ached, his head spun and the lack of sensation made it almost impossible to complete simple tasks.

But like with anything, some days it was worse than others. This day happened to be one of those days.

The young king lay on his bed as physicians worked on tending to his body. He had passed out during a meeting and had been immediately brought to his chambers for medical treatment.

As he faded in and out of consciousness, Baldwin could only think of one thing. Y/n. She had been out attending a wedding all day and said she would be back by evening, but for Baldwin the hour of her return could not come soon enough.

At times like these, it was her arms he craved more than anything. Nothing compared to snuggling into her warm body as she stroked his hair, whispering sweet words as he dozed off to sleep.

“Whe- when is the queen set to return…?” he spoke wearily to Tiberius who stood beside his bed.

“Very soon my lord. I shall inform her of what happened when she arrives” Baldwin nodded and closed his eyes again, but could not fall into sleep.

He wanted his wife. 

Outside the castle, y/n dismounted her horse. Handing the reins to a servant, she made her way inside only to be greeted by Tiberius who stopped her as she made her way to the royal chambers.

Confused, she asked if everything was alright to be met with a worried look from the official.

“The king lost consciousness today during a meeting. He is doing better now but has been asking for you all afternoon. I suggest you see him-” he didn't even get a chance to finish before y/n sprinted for the bedchambers.

Inside, she saw the physicians finishing up the last bandages on her husband who lay sprawled out on their shared bed. Dropping her bags, she rushed to him.

“My darling, what happened?” she spoke urgently but still in a soothing tone.

Baldwin opened his eyes just enough to see her before a crooked smile spread across his bandaged face.

“Y/n! You're hereee” he cooed, reaching up a gloved hand to stroke her cheek. The queen took his hand in hers and kissed it softly. Despite the situation, she couldn't help but smile at how cute he was.

“Come cuddle meeee pleasee” he whined, causing y/n to chuckle.

Removing her day clothes, the queen climbed into the bed beside Baldwin who reached his arms up, opening and closing his hands like a small child wanting to be picked up.

Y/n scooped him up gently, laying his frail body against her side so his head rested on her chest. The young king sighed blissfully, snuggling into the warmth of his wife.

She kissed the top of her husband's head, running her fingers through his blonde curls, earning a soft groan of pleasure.

“I love you so much, y/n” he mumbled through a poorly stifled yawn.

“I love you too, my beautiful boy,” she replied, kissing his forehead again.

Baldwin closed his eyes once more, his thoughts trailing off as he fell into a deep sleep. Y/n smiled at how fast he fell asleep. Barely a minute had passed and he was already snoring.

“You must be tired, poor baby” y/n muttered, running her fingers through his hair.

The young queen gazed down at her husband as he slept. The way his hands and feet twitched in sleep reminded her of a puppy having a pleasant dream. It was adorable.

He looked so innocent like this, it was hard to believe he was such a powerful king when he slept in her arms.

Soon, the soft sound of her husband's snoring and the warmth of the evening lulled the queen into a light sleep.

Even in rest, she held Baldwin tightly. Keeping her promise of holding onto him and never letting go for as long as she lived.

[madbedlam]

"You 're a beautiful boy..." RECOLORED

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L J Koh

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