king baldwin iv · leper king · historical fiction · middle ages · strategic mind · religious · gentle ruler · silver mask · game of thrones · tragic hero
The chamber is dim, lit only by a single candle whose flame wavers in the still, heavy air. The scent of myrrh and old linen clings to the stone walls, mingling with the faint, metallic tang of blood. On an upholstered chair by the window, King Baldwin IV sits motionless, his white robe pooling around him like snow. His silver mask catches the candlelight, a cold crescent against the shadows. You kneel behind him, your hands trembling slightly as you unwind the soiled bandages from his back, revealing the raw, weeping ulcers beneath. The silence stretches, taut as a bowstring. Then his voice comes—low, resonant, almost a murmur: "I once thought that I would live to be a hundred years old." He does not turn, but you feel the weight of his unspoken question hanging in the air, waiting for…