#reynald of chatillon

[incorrect-koh-posts]

KINGDOM OF HEAVEN (2005) + letterboxd gems

#kingdom of heaven 2005 #ridley scott #baldwin iv #balian of ibelin #raymond iii of tripoli #salah ad din #guy de lusignan #sibylla of jerusalem #reynald of chatillon #godfrey of ibelin #orlando bloom #edward norton #jeremy irons #liam neeson #eva green #marton csokas #brendan gleeson #ghassan massoud #nikolaj coster waldau #movie memes #kingdom of heaven shitposting #letterboxd

[nothing-new-under-the-sun124]

Stephanie of Milly: Don’t you think Reynald is kinda hot

Raymond of Tripoli: uhh Reynald’s killed thousands of people…

Stephanie of Milly: Yeah but he went through trauma in prison, he was in his healing era.

#crusades #reynald of chatillon #incorrect quotes #I feel inspired to talk more about crusader history #raymond iii of Tripoli #Stephanie of Milly

[nebbyy]

King Baldwin IV x reader - I’ll be waiting for you

A/N: Well, how could I not make another fic for King Baldwin when the other one I made is my most liked post yet, so I decided to write this little pieceee. Sooo I guess I should warn y'all that this one will be a little less historically accurate (not that the first one was that great of a historical piece but you get the idea). Oh and as usual, this fic came into my mind the moment I saw the painting just below (which is "the Reconciliation of the Montagues and Capulets Over the Dead Bodies of Romeo andJuliet" by sir Frederic Leighton)Now enough chatting, more King Baldwin brainrot. 

Summary: in a desperate attempt to protect his kingdom after having punished Reynald de Chatillon, the king is exhausted and the long ride has increasingly worsened his already wary condition. Once he’s escorted back to the palace, his loving wife wastes no time to reunite with her beloved husband.

Warnings: kinda angsty (no happy ending tbh), vague descriptions of Baldwin’s illness related wounds. Also, reader specifically described as female.

Word count: 3209

You sat on your throne, high and proud like the royalty you were. But under the facade of your noble confidence, you felt small. Smaller than ever, actually, as the yelling of all the men in front of you filled the air and rose up to the open sky. With a simple, reckless act, Reynald de Chatillon and Guy de Lusignan had just screwed years of efforts that King Baldwin had spent trying to maintain that delicate peace that required so many lives and time to build. All washed away from the raging river that were Reynald and Guy. 

While the two men tried to defend their senseless attack, backed by a substantial group of men, another opposing group shouted at them, berating them for the offense they had given not only to Saladin but also to Jerusalem itself.

You sigh, fighting the urge to cover your ears, and curl into your own body; you opt to just turn your head and look at your beloved husband. He looked to be in a similar state as you were: although his face was now fully covered -a means of hiding the decaying state of his leprosy-ridden body- his head was bent with weary alertness, like a hawk watching its prey from a distance. You watched his body, languidly seated on his much larger throne, the only sitting position that brought him no discomfort, though it looked almost more like he was about to lie down. 

It broke your heart to see how that disease had ravaged Baldwin's body, in recent years more and more. To see him there, on the same throne on which he once sat tall and proud, while now he barely had the strength to stay upright. And you knew he was thinking the very same thing.

You were about to open your mouth, whisper something to him, anything, in order to shake him out of his thoughts and that chaotic situation, but you were interrupted in your actions by an official, who rushed to the king's side, handing him a scroll. His bandaged hands clumsily opened the scroll, and you found salvation from the noise of the room by concentrating on watching Baldwin read carefully. You watched his eyes, blue as the sky and like the waves of the sea that brought you to the Holy Land, now covered with a pale glassy glaze. 

You frowned when you heard Baldwin freeze in place, even his sitting became more erect, as if a cube of ice had slid down his back. With his gaze still fixed on the words written in that letter, he merely raised his hand slightly, a clear sign of his will.

"SILENCE!" his guard's shout resounded through the hall, overpowering the furious shouts of the men who had been barking at each other for hours now. They all turned to look at the king; their faces, a few moments ago darkened and wrinkled with anger, were now smooth and relaxed, their eyebrows raised in astonishment at their king's order. Funny, you thought, how these men because of your husband's condition sometimes simply forget how much power he possessed over them. Before it was as if he wasn't even in the room, and they were all playing at being great leaders, now there they were, staring at him, motionless as statues, submissive as ants. You curled your nose discreetly, your face a mixture of disgust and contempt. Pathetic, you thought.

After what seemed like an eternity, Baldwin finally looked up at the crowd in front of him, finally revealing what it was that had shocked him so much. "Saladin has crossed the Jordan with 200000 men," silence fell, and you felt your body going numb. Your ears seemed muffled, you could barely perceive what was happening around you. At that moment you felt so much fear for your kingdom, and concern for Baldwin and what this impending attack would cost him.

And anger, against those two fools who out of sheer vanity had endangered the lives of all the inhabitants of Jerusalem. They had put Jerusalem itself at risk; they had put Baldwin at risk.

I was brought to attention by Baldwin, who was struggling to pull himself up from his throne, walking toward his most trusted man. "We must meet him before he reaches Kerak. I will lead the army," your husband's voice was hushed and soft, so that only the man in front of him could hear. But it did not escape your ears, the implication those words had: Baldwin wants to stop Saladin, and he wants to do it himself. But this could cost him his life. 

You couldn't stop yourself; you jumped up from your seat, eyes wide in an expression somewhere between fear and surprise. Baldwin turned to look at you, the woman who always took his breath away at the mere sight of how beautiful she was. You did not fail to have that effect on him again this time, but not because of your beauty: in your eyes he saw your terror, that this was the last time you would see him alive. They hypnotized him, and begged him in a silent prayer not to leave, to give up this plan, have an ambassador sent, anyone else. Hell, let him send Guy himself to intercept the Saracen, let him be beheaded and his murder settle the account that he himself opened. But the storm of emotion in your eyes contrasted with the gentle stream of emotion flowing from your eyes

But the storm of emotions in your eyes contrasted with the gentle stream of emotions flowing from Baldwin's eyes, barely visible because of the cover concealing his tortured face. He too, through them, was silently pleading with you: but he was asking you to trust, to let go and follow his plan, to try to forget for at least a moment all the warnings the Physicians had given him over the years.

Eventually, you relented, turning your gaze away and opting to stare at a random spot in the corner of the room. Baldwin gave a silent sigh and closed his eyes for a moment, a sign of gratitude, although you could not see it. He turned to the men of his court, and with the little strength his body afforded him, he spoke in a loud, determined voice: "Assemble the army and protect the city."

All this reminded you of the last time Baldwin fought Saladin: he had barely completed his seventeenth year, and young and still full of life, he was ready to ride against the invincible Saracen king. But on that day God had been more merciful. He had granted you, if nothing else, one last night to spend with your husband, had given you the gift of a minimum of time to ensure that you bid Baldwin a proper farewell before he met what could well have been his end. Instead this time, you barely had time to briefly remove the thick veil from his face to give him a fleeting kiss and exchange a handful of words. You fought back the tears as you looked at him, opting instead to bring your hand to his cheek, the flesh of his lip having receded and decayed to such an extent that it had receded down to his cheek, eventually turning into a long scar that protruded down to his cheekbone.

"Let me go with you, I will wait for you at the castle of Reynald de Chatillon-" "No. It is too dangerous. If things go wrong with the negotiations, I don't want you or my sisters anywhere near that man." It was not often that Baldwin interrupted you while you were speaking. He respected you too much to not allow you to finish your sentences, so the fact that he did just now spoke of how important this was to him. 

"Then promise me you’ll come back to me. Safe and sound." He snorted softly, giving a hint of smile before copping his face with his hardened hands, "You know I can’t promise it." You know that, but that blatant honesty of his, which you always loved so much, was not what you wanted at the time. No, you wanted reassurance, no matter how truthful, no matter how worthless his promises may be at the end of the day, You need that fleeting distraction that mitigates the fear that’s been eating you from the inside since Baldwin put on his armor. May you risked never seeing him again.

"Please just say it." Your voice came out much softer than you meant, almost less than a whisper, perhaps because of the knot in your throat, which threatened to break free carrying a river of tears. For a moment he remained silent, turning suddenly his face towards the voice of a nobleman who called him from the entrance of his room, but did not even dignify him with an answer. After all, his attention was completely turned to his world. To you. Before I answered you, I drew your head to his with my hands, so that I could place his forehead against yours. Finally, he spoke softly, in that loving tone that he reserved only for you: "Then I promise you that I will return to you in no more than three days, and when I return I will be victorious, and I will be riding."

After that, that moment between the two of you, which so much looked like a heartbreaking farewell, lasted just before Baldwin had to go to his horse to guide his men to the enemy.

And it wasn’t long before the harsh reality became clear to you: he had lied to you. Not maliciously, of course, you were the one who begged him to say those words after all. But the fact is that three days became four, that news of the army of Jerusalem had not come any more, that the last thing you heard of your husband was that only the ride had already tried his weakened body.

Another day passed, then another, and at the dawn of the fourth day since his absence you felt your heart sink. Had something happened to him? Had the negotiations failed? What if his illness had suddenly got the better of him? Or worse, Saladin and his men had shot him, stabbed him, or yet again captured and publicly executed,…

Your mind began to spiral into an ocean of possible reasons behind this delay, and you swore that your breathing had finally stopped once and for all when a messenger on horseback arrived at the palace, frantically dismounting from his steed to rush into the throne room and bring you the message: "The negotiations were successful, but the king is in critical condition! He is returning to Jerusalem on a canopy," you dismissed the man with a slight wave of your hand, so weak that you almost looked numbed; Baldwin's advisors began to chatter, but the background murmur of their murmurs did not seem to reach your ears. No, your attention was elsewhere; it was entirely on your husband.

You took your leave of the court, hurrying to your rooms. There, like a hawk waiting impatiently for prey to feed on, you perched on the balcony overlooking the city below you, on the walls from which not many days ago Baldwin had emerged leading the army.

It was there that you began to think again, this time with a clearer mind as you knew that at least Baldwin was alive and on his way home. On his way to you. Still, this whole situation reminded you of when you were only sixteen years old, and you stood on that balcony as you do now, waiting to see Baldwin return on his horse. And on that day, when he was visible to the naked eye, and your eyes met, you saw all the life and strength of one who had just defeated the greatest enemy of his time. At that moment, he seemed almost immortal to you: he looked like a god riding proudly, leading the thousands of men behind him towards their home.

How unfair fate is, to cut short his life so early. His physicians gave him no more than thirty years, but that time seemed to you to be shortened even more when you finally caught sight of his canopy. There he lay, sprawled and motionless like a dead body, surrounded by the soft cushions and riders on either side of his transport.

Just two years ago such a journey would not have fatigued him in the least; now he was risking his life just by riding a horse. Your eyes threatened to fill with tears thinking about how much he had loved riding a horse, and now he found himself bedridden, unable in his passions. You wasted no time running through the palace corridors, eager to reach your beloved as soon as possible.

One turn to the right, then another, then down the steps, and finally straight to the palace doors, where the finely decorated canopy led the love of your life.

You rushed to his side, gently taking his mutilated hand in yours while the other stroked his masked face. He breathed faintly, his eyes closed as he tried to regain his strength after his disease had dealt him this last bludgeon. Feeling your gentle touch, Baldwin's eyes fluttered open, his glassy eyes the color of heaven meeting yours.

"You've been reckless, my love. Putting your life at risk just to do the job of a messenger!" you scolded him, but Baldwin only smiled fondly at your words. "I promised you I would've come back. And that I did, alive too." Although his voice was so weak that it sounded more like a huff of air rather than a sentence, its tone was still laced with playfulness.

It made you unable to resist the smile that was threatening to form on your lips; you did not grace him with an answer yet, opting instead to move your hand to remove the silver mask from his face. You could see his surprised and relieved expression, as he was now finally able to breathe more freely and to look at you properly. He breathed in the sight of you, almost as if trying to take in as much of you as he could. "I can't tell if it's the travel or the sight of you that takes my breath away."

You just smiled bitterly and shook your head at his silly declarations, "It must be the ride, it has tired you so much that it's making you speak nonsense." he giggled weakly, much more tiredly this time, almost as if he was about to doze off. But he fought the tiredness nonetheless, opting to just shake his head and admire you with a lovestruck look. "Maybe I am hallucinating, I think I'm seeing heaven above me."

It was supposed to be a compliment that would've made you giggle and blush, like the ones that he showered you with daily. But instead, it made your heart clench at the bare idea of it. The idea that this would be his last moments before the energies spent for this expedition would be too much for him to handle, and God will reclaim his most virtuous man. It made your throat tighten, and your lower lip tremble.

You tried to hide your troubled state, moving your hand quickly to the curve of his neck. There, you placed a soft, butterfly-like kiss on the little places of skin that haven't been mutilated and bloodied by the leprosy. You kissed him one more time, then another, and another again..

In the end, you lost count of how many kisses you had given him, in a desperate attempt to mend your premature grief, to ground yourself in the feeling that Baldwin is there. He is alive. Yet the feeling of his skin against yours, of his chest rising up and down and his arms weakly holding your soft body, it wasn't enough to stop the tears to start flowing down your cheeks.

And that didn't go unnoticed to Baldwin, who mustered all his strength left to hold you just a little tighter. "Have my words upset you?" you sniffled, trying to recollect yourself before lifting your head to look into his eyes. "No, my dear, you could never. I just-" you stopped for a second, trying to swallow down the lump that had formed in your throat, "promise me this is the last time. Please, tell me that you will stop this nonsense. Let your trusted men handle these matters, command your man like a king not a general!" your hands had moved to his arms, a gesture to both ground yourself and to accentuate just how desperate you were in that moment, only wanting him to just listen.

"I beg of you, my love, stay here. Where you can rest. We both know that you don't have much more time left to live, so stop doing everything in your power to shorten it anymore." A sob slipped from your mouth at the last part. It truly astonished you how careless he seemed about his own condition, almost as if he forgot that any move could be the death of him.

He frowned and sighed at your words, squeezing your forearms softly before he spoke softly. This time though his tone was clearer, less weakened by the outcomes of the past days. "I already spoke to the physician about this: I have no choice, my angel. I'll be bound to my bed until a miracle will better my condition, or until death will take me."

You shut your eyes in relief, resting your forehead against his and sighing shakily, trying to recompose yourself. "I can't live in a world without you.."

"God will give us more time. I promise I won't leave you as long as I breathe on this earth. And. when my time will be over and there will be no future for us in this life, I'll be waiting for you in heaven, if I'll be granted the blessing of a place next to you there."

Not too long after, the physicians that Saladin had promised him arrived at the palace, and you were assisted as they tended to Baldwin's many wounds caused by his sickness. More than the sight of the gruesome pieces of open flesh, what appalled you was just how numb his body had become, so much so that he did not even feel their hands and tools working into his skin. It made you wonder wether or not he even felt your kisses from before.

And you make yourself that same question months later, when you place one last kiss into his forehead as he slept soundly before going to bed yourself, only to wake up to a cold body beside you. You wonder if he ever got to feel that last gesture of love before God had finally claimed him.

You only found solace in the thought that Baldwin would be resting in the realms of heaven above your head, contrary to what the Saracens believe.

A/N: Wowww this gets more fun by the day!! King Baldwin will probably always be my favorite character to write for. He’s my muse. As always ill be waiting for your feedbacks!!!

Oh and also, be prepared in the future for more fics waiting to be posted, I’ve got about ten that are just waiting for the right time to come to light, and many more will come in the future since I’m really finding it therapeutic to write.

#writers on tumblr #angst #fluff #my fic #king baldwin x reader #kingdom of heaven #king baldwin iv #reynald de chatillon #guy de lusignan #reader insert #f!reader #historical fiction #fanfic #x yn #x reader

[raindrops666]

Reynald in that one scene when he was in prison

#please laugh #i'm funny i swear #koh shitposting #koh fandom #king baldwin iv #kingdom of heaven 2005 #kingdom of heaven fandom #kingdom of heaven #reynald de Chatillon #koh reynald

[floatyflowers]

Dark! Platonic Father! Saladin x Reader x Dark! Baldwin IV

You are the only daughter of Sultan Salah El -Din Al Ayoubi.

And his favourite child.

How can he not favor you when you were the only child who shamelessly climbed on his back while he prayed, demanding that he plays with you.

You also started writing poems at the age of twelve to praise your father's bravery in battles.

Not only that, but you were religious and well behaved, and always obey his orders because you know he only wants the best for you.

Even though you were considered the most beautiful woman when you reached eighteen, no man dared to voice out such a thing.

One man tried to voice out such words, and the next thing he was whipped one hundred times.

You received many suitors, but they were all rejected.

Since the peace treaty with the Crusaders, you thought it would be a good idea to go on a pilgrimage.

But you did not expect that everyone with you would get killed and you would be taken as a hostage.

All because of Reynald de chatillon.

Of course the Christian king wasn't happy about that, and ordered that Reynald de chatillon be hanged.

Especially after he saw how you were bruised and beaten up.

Knowing very well that this might lead to war.

Baldwin had the best physicians treat your wounds and the best food be presented to you.

He made sure you are well taken care of...however, you were too afraid to eat or drink.

Only wanting to return back to your father.

Which made Baldwin have the soldiers bring you to his chambers to try to convince you that he means no harm.

"I wish to return to my father"

"Reynald de chatillon will face death for what he has done"

"Thank you, you are just and kind"

After those sentences are exchanged between you both, you start trusting him.

You two would play chess and converse about different subjects.

What surprised him is your knowledge about different fields like philosophy, medicine, and astronomy.

You are beautiful, intelligent, kind and virtuous...all the traits that makes a perfect wife.

How unfortunate, that he can't take you as a wife for many reasons.

The Leper King decided to give you a gift to remember him by, and that is a golden crescent necklace.

In, the end, you were returned back to your father safe and sound.

#tw: toxic relationships #platonic yandere #reader insert #possessive #dark #yandere father #Saladin #baldwin iv #kingdom of heaven

[sunnycanvas]

Could you write a story about Salah ad-Din's daughter and Baldwin?

After surviving the disastrous seventh crusade, a weary and battered crusader found himself lost and alone in the aftermath of the war. He realized that God had spared his life for a purpose: to reclaim Jerusalem from what he saw as heretical hands. With great effort, he limped along, using a makeshift stick as a crutch and desperately in need of medical attention.

As he trudged forward, rain began to pour from the heavens, soaking him to the bone. Exhausted and seeking refuge, he came upon a modest house and decided to take shelter beside it. It was at this moment that an elderly man appeared, recognizing the crusader's attire and his own past as a fellow crusader.

"Ah, a fellow crusader," the old man began, a wistful smile forming on his weathered face. "I, too, used to be one of your kind. But age eventually forced me into retirement."

The crusader was taken aback by the old man's revelation, realizing that he must have served during the era of King Baldwin's reign. Reading the young man's thoughts, the old crusader continued,

"I have seen a time when King Baldwin of Jerusalem, the one who was a leper, beat Saladin although he only had 300 armed men against Saladin's 3,000. But now your sins have come to such a pass that we round you up in the fields like cattle."

The bewildered crusader couldn't fathom the reference to "sins" made by the old man. Confused, he inquired, prompting the old man to knowingly explain, "Your sins date back to the first crusade, where innocent lives were brutally taken, staining the streets of Jerusalem with so much blood that it reached ankle-deep. It was during that time that two souls, (Y/N) Salahuddin's sister and King Baldwin IV, fell in love. Their affection for each other was evident in their eyes, but it's a tragic tale of love lost amidst the chaos. Few dared to speak of their love within the palace walls, as the nobility largely despised them."

The crusader was taken aback by the old man's sympathetic view of (Y/N). After all, he had always heard rumors accusing her of using witchcraft to seduce King Baldwin IV. The old man, sighing, seemed to understand the young crusader's inner turmoil. He retreated into his house briefly and emerged with food and medicine, tending to the crusader's wounds with care.

As the old man tended the crusader back to health, the old man nostalgically reminisced about his own youth. He began recounting his own story:

Year 1180

"My memories take me back to my childhood, where my parents spoke passionately of the Holy Land and the divine duty to protect the birthplace of our Lord from heretics. Back then, I longed for adventure and dreamed of becoming a Knight Templar, wielding wooden swords while my parents toiled and prayed. I proudly proclaimed myself a future knight to my friends. While my friends mocked me my parents encouraged my aspirations. I soon fulfilled my dream and became a knight to say I was sad would be understatement leaving my hometown especially my friends and parents would be understatement. Alas! there was nothing to be done

"As a young adventurer in the Holy Land, I served as a Knight Templar under the command of Reynald de Chatillon, a notorious warlord who was a Crusader lord based in the Kerak castle known for his ruthless raids. Some claimed his actions were meant to tarnish Salahuddin's reputation in the eyes of the Islamic world. However, his actions took a grave turn when he captured Salahuddin's sister, who was traveling in a caravan from Egypt to Syria .Salahuddin was furious when he learned of the attack. He saw it as a personal insult, as his sister was among the prisoners.

The old man's voice held the weight of history as he recounted these events. He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts before continuing.

Reynald looked at me and said "You, new comer" I nervously pointed to myself and he said "Yes, you. Go and inform Guy de Lusignan about my capture of prisoners especially our enemy's Salahuddin sister". "Be quick as possible before the news reaches the king" he commanded. I hurriedly mounted my horse and raced toward the palace. Sadly, I arrived too late. The news had already reached the castle, and they were embroiled in heated discussions."

I was afraid to turn back and face the wrath of my lord, for the failure of my work.

"My friend, recognizing my predicament, suggested I join the Knight's Templar during the discussion.

"The king will appreciate your presence, it will show him that you are loyal to crown not your lord"

"Besides lord Reynald is going to be punished" Heeding his advice I entered the room and saw the hall was already dissolved in aggression.

The old man's voice grew intense as he recalled the heated debate within the castle's walls.

The king who was patiently listening to all arguments noticed me entering and nodded as if to acknowledge my presence

“Guy de Lusignan and Reynald de Chatillon, with the Templars, have attacked a Saracen caravan" exclaimed my friend entering first and I followed behind him

“It was no caravan. It was an army headed for Bethlehem to desecrate our Lord’s birthplace.” Guy defended himself

“Reynald, with the Templars, have broken the King’s truce. Salahuddin will come" Tiberias interrupts

“Tiberias knows more than a Christian about Salahuddin’s intentions.” Guy challenged while Tiberias says “That I would rather live with men, than kill them. Is certainly why you are alive.”

“That sort of Christianity has its uses, I suppose.” Guy mocked with his followers in the army who laughed along with him

“We must not go to war with Salahuddin!” Tiberias exclaimed. “We do not want it, and we may not win it.”

 ‘Blasphemy!’ Knight Templar yelled with protest and fought with Knight Hospitallar who were arguing back as well.

"There must be war, God wills it!" Guy agreeing yelled as well "God, wills it".

"Amidst the heated discussions, there were clashes between Templars and Hospitallers. Some cried out for war, invoking God's will, while others, like Tiberias, urged restraint. The King Baldwin IV, sat patiently while reading letter."

The old man's eyes sparkled with memories of that fateful day. Suddenly Baldwin IV raises his hand Tiberias noticing yells

"SILENCE"

Making the whole hall quite. Baldwin IV looked at the crowd and spoke in his raspy voice "I had sent a word to Reynald to let go of prisoners but he refused" As he said this the king tried getting up from his throne. Tiberias offered his hand worried about the king. However Baldwin IV raised his hand to as if signal he is capable of this much. As he got up the King whispered in his advisor’s ear. "We must be quick as possible before news reaches Salahuddin or else there will be war"

“My Lord, if you travel you will die" Tiberias voiced his concern

“Send word to Balian to protect the villagers.” the King in commanding tone yelled “Assemble the army.” which was followed by cheers of the knights

The king arrived to the place where Reynald had supposedly taken Salahuddin's sister. King displaying extraordinary dignity ridding in his horse went forwards my lord. As he got down his horse he headed towards my lord. Reynald went pale in fear. When the king reached him he took off one of gloves and extended his leprous hand and declared,

'I am Jerusalem, and you, Reynald, will give me a kiss of peace.' Reynald kissed the King's hand desperately, knowing the gravity of his actions. But the King, without hesitation, began to administer punishment. After he was done the king asked "Where is the princess?". A knight informed him that she, along with others, was held in prison. The King nodded and headed toward the castle, but suddenly, he stumbled. Several knights, myself included, rushed to his aid. Despite our pleas for him to rest, the King was determined."

(Y/N) was there in the cell crying but she got quite when she heard footsteps coming towards her. "No, matter what I won't allow you to hurt me"

"Princess" Baldwin IV said in his gentle voice. Realizing it was not Reynald (Y/N) came out of the dark and went into the light

I looked at the king and saw he seemed to be smitten with the girl but also had hint of pity in his face. "She must be truly terrified" I heard him mumble

"Princess, I apologise for the conduct of my knights". "May I please get the pleasure of knowing your name". (Y/N) who was surprised at gentleness of king mumbled her name in whisper "It's (Y/N)". Baldwin IV nodded at her and commanded the knights to treat the prisoners with outmost respect. "The princess shall get her own residence in palace" Baldwin IV commanded but the princess yelled "And get assaulted by your fellow murderers!" "I would rather live and die in prison than to submit to you and besides" (Y/N) face darked in anger and she leaned forward and said with outmost animosity "Flee from the leper as you would flee from a lion". "There is no way I would stay in the palace of leper". The place had gotten awfully quite . You could fear the sound of drop of water easily until a crusader shouted "You ungrateful wrench, how dare y-" but the king lifted his hand shutting him up. The king turned towards (Y/N) and said

"People said that the diesease is the punishment for the vanity of the kingdom, if it's true I call it unfair" As the king said this he quietly laughed at the end of the sentence. The king suddenly seemed lost in thought and (Y/N) noticed how beautiful his blue eyes were and got lost in them. The king then said "I am aware of the sins commited I can't change what happened but I can change what will happen" "Please come and live in the comfort of the palace"

The crusader looked at pity at old man as he looked at the old man who appeared to be on the brink of death. Death had been a familiar companion on his crusading journey, but this stranger had stirred something within him in the short time they had spent together. The old man managed a feeble smile and softly spoke, "I wish I could share more with you, but I can feel my time has come."

The crusader responded, "I believe you've been a good man, and I have no doubt that our Lord will grant you the kingdom of heaven."

The old man's eyes twinkled as he continued, "When I first saw you, you reminded me of the king. Gentle, non-judgmental, and wise. I'm grateful I trusted my instincts and shared part of the story with you. There's much more I could have shared, but alas, my time has arrived."

With a tinge of sorrow, the crusader whispered, "Don't worry; I believe. I believe that (Y/N) and King Baldwin IV were good people who became victims of their circumstances."

As the old man heard these words, he seemed to find peace, a burden lifted from his weary soul. He must have carried these stories with him for so long, yearning to share them but having no one to confide in.

In the fading light, the old man slowly passed away in the crusader's arms.

The old man slowly died in crusader's arm and the crusader felt the rays of sunshine on his face. "The heavy rain had stopped" he thought. In that solemn moment, the crusader felt a rush of warmth and energy. He knew this day and the stories he had heard would remain etched in his memory forever.

Fast forward to present day:

"Both Christian sources and Arab sources have hostile opinions of Salahuddin's sister (Y/N) and Baldwin IV respectively, William of Tyre was said to be trusted resource but historian like Bernhard Hamilton spent lot of time proving otherwise. Now it's a well known fact that William of tyre work is biased with political agenda" (Y/N) said excitedly. "You are such a history nerd" your friend teased. "King Baldwin IV was said to understand the concept of chivalry" (Y/N) replied dreamily. "Of course, you like chivalrous knight while I like rough and aggressive man like my boyfriend" your friend said lost in dreams on her boyfriend.

"Are you borrowing that book, I need that as well. I am searching for this book for so long". Baldwin IV mumbled hesitantly.

"Isn't it Baldwin IV? He is said to be sickly but popular among his peers" Your friend giggled leaned down near your ear whispered "He is said to be gentle man, perfect for old romantic like you". You playfully shoved your friend.

"BEEP". You turned towards the sound and saw your friend's boyfriend with his bike. Your friend giggled "I gotta go" "Meanwhile you enjoy your date with your new boyfriend" and rushed away

You playfully rolled your eyes and turned towards the boy and said "Sorry about that"

The boy gave a bright smile and said "No worries. It's refreshing to meet someone who shares my passion for history." "How about a cup of coffee and a discussion on the history of the crusades?

#baldwin iv #baldwin iv imagine #baldwin iv x reader #kingdom of heaven #kingdom of heaven 2005 #kingdom of heaven fanfic #kingdom of heaven fanfiction #kingdom of heaven fandom #kingdom of heaven headcanons #king baldwin iv

[arioloyal]

Sepandarmazgan

Part 4

(King baldwin iv x reader)

Warning: none

A/n : This part of the story is narrated by a knight named Kristous. I have decided to give this story a philosophical and romantic aspect so that can't just be a boring lovestory . Merry Christmas to all my Christian friends. I hope your dreams and wishes come true this year♡

Like and reblogs are appreciated

Kristous pov:

Our jaws were still dropped from our mouths and our face were pale. We were all waiting for lord lusignan today when we suddenly saw lady y/n just enter the door. What were we left to do? We had heard enough terrible things about her, especially from Reynald de Chatillon, when we saw her appear before us like that, we unconsciously felt a little fear. But her behavior seemed very kind and friendly. After welcoming us one by one, she said that she came here to have a little talk with lord Guy de Lusignan.

I was afraid that something would happen. I said, "lord...lord Lusignan doesn't usually welcome uninvited guests, especially guests who find their way into his secret meetings. It's better to go now and talk to him personally later."

Lady y/n said, “God bless all of you knights of the Holy Land. Thank you for the warning, but sometimes it takes an incident to solve some problems.”

What?! She had read my mind? Honestly, I had heard before that y/n could read people's minds.

"Don't worry," she continued, " this conversation won't last long."

jerard was sitting next to me. He bent down and whispered in my ear: "Look at this rude woman! She has come to the secret hall! She's really the devil of Jerusalem."

I shook my head, but to be honest, I didn't saw anything like the devil in her. The image she made of herself in my mind was that of a pious, faithful, frank and bold woman. I kept my thoughts to myself.

A few minutes later, Guy entered the door. He seemed to be deep in thought, his eyebrows were close to each other. He hadn't taken a single step. he froze there and looked at the uninvited guest.

"What is this infidel woman doing here? Why did you let her disturb our secret meeting?"

We knights looked at each other but before we could answer, y/n interrupted him and said that she had been walking around the palace when she happened to come across here and wanted to see a man who hate her the most in the entire of Jerusalem.

Some of the knights coughed nervously and embarrassedly. I looked at jerard, he was also nervous and worried. There was such anxiety in the air that you could even touch it with your hand.

Lord Lusignan said, "I don't care why you came here. I have more important things to do than talk to you. You have no right to be here at all. Hurry up and get out."

Lady y/n said, "I see you don't want to talk in front of me. But behind my back you gossip like a nightingale, no one can stop you. You have a habit of gossiping behind me and the king and making dirty accusations. Now Since we have occupied your mind so much, you probably have some questions. go ahead! I'm listening!"

:"I have nothing to do with you. Whatever I need to know, I know. all these knights as well."

At that moment, lady y/n turned to us and raised her voice, "If someone says, 'I know everything I need to know,' they should not be known as your lord, but as a fool." . Only the ignorant think they know everything."

Guy's face was red with anger. Until today, no one had been seen with such boldness in the palace.

:"In that case, come and ask these knights: Which one is more important for Jerusalem? The holy soldiers and defenders of Jerusalem or a wandering madman who does nothing but pry and ask questions and whose mind is always distracted?"

All the people present there took the guy's side, but I felt that most of them are not honest and just want to gain his trust.

Lady y/n asked, :"You sit everywhere and with everyone and talk behind my back. You say I was sent by the devil. Okay, now that's the case, please tell me what a devil is?”

Lord Lusignan, who now had a good opportunity to express himself, said: "devil is the worst enemy to man and humanity, and always walks among us in disguise. Sometimes in the form of a poor and seemingly innocent human, and sometimes in the form of a beautiful woman. comes to encourage us to get out of the right path. The devil appears in different forms that we don't expect it at all. For example, may appear in the form of a traveling and ordinary girl. But the faithful soldiers of Christ, won't listen to such a evil. "They never allow you to enter their privacy." Then he examined her from head to toe.

Lady y/n smiled as if she was expecting this insult and said,: "I know what you mean. But it was so easy! It's good for us to always look for the devil in others, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?" he asked hesitantly.

:"Well, if the devil is as cunning and powerful as you say and is always waiting for an opportunity to be by our side, what is the need for us, the humans, to blame ourselves for the mistakes that we have done with our own wish? we usually say that all sins is because of the devil and all good is from the god, so what exactly we're doing here as a human? In this way, there is no reason to ask ourselves questions and make up for our mistakes. We blame everything either on Satan or on God. Let's go. See ? how easy it is?"

:"You either have a lot of courage and intelligence or you're very stupid to talk about such things to such people." Guy said to y/n

But she continued talking as if she didn't hear his voice and started walking in the hall between us.

: "a human is such a complex being that he can prepare both heaven and hell for himself. is the highest creation of God. However, can become higher than high or lower than low. If we understood the meaning of this deeply, Then we wouldn't look for the devil outside, but inside our own soul. The only thing we need is to check ourselves, not to look for mistakes in others."

jerard said from the corner with a mocking tone: "You, fire worshiper, you better check yourself first. I hope one day you will answer for the lies you're saying."

:"So let me tell you a story," she said.

... Four merchants were praying in an empty church. At the same time, the head of the merchants joins them. The first merchant abandons his prayer and immediately asks: "Then what will happen to these loads of silk that we were supposed to take with us?"

The second merchant abandons his prayer and says to his friend: You fool! Don't you know that you should not talk to anyone during prayer? Now all your prayers will be null and void."

The third merchant also made such statements.

The fourth merchant couldn't bear it anymore. he whispered: Look at these fools! All three of them gave up their prayers. thanks to the god, i didn't allow myself to be deceived and stop my worship with idle words like them."

After finishing this story, y/n turned to the knights and asked, "Well, what do you think? Which one of these four merchants do you think had their prayers accepted by the god?"

There was a wave in the hall, some of the templars thought, some started to discuss the answer. Finally, one of them shouted from the bottom of the hall: "The prayers of the second, third and fourth merchants are not accepted. Only the first merchant is innocent because he only asked to consult his boss."

Another one said: "Yes, but he shouldn't have left his prayer half-done. In my opinion, except for the fourth one, the rest of the merchants were wrong. The fourth merchant was only talking to himself."

I looked away from them. I wasn't sure that any of these two answers were correct. But I preferred not to say anything. If I say my opinion, probably no one would like it. Suddenly, y/n stood up, pointed at me and asked.

Well, what do you think?!"

I said: "If these merchants have a fault, it is that they stopped worship and spoke. Their main mistake was that instead of focusing on God and the truth of the prayer they recited, they started criticizing each other." Their thoughts are somewhere else and all their senses are distracted. Now if we judge them, we will also commit the same sin."

One of those bigoted knights interrupted me: "What do you want to say?"

I answered: "I say that all four merchants are wrong for the same reason. But on the other hand, it's not right to judge them because I don't know which one of them was accepted by the Lord. As a person, I only do my work and deal with my own mistakes. I have nothing to do with others but protect them."

Lady y/n gave me such an admiring look that I felt like I was being praised by the whole world. she asked my name. "Kristous, my lady," I said.

At that time y/n turned to the rest of the templars and knights and said:" your friend is a true knight, maybe he is not aware of this fact yet. But his soul is very similar to the pious men. I think that Now you understand the difference between a fanatic and a true knight. You must be very careful about your thoughts. Because the disease caused by thoughts is much worse than physical disease, and bigotry is a disease worse than leprosy. will take all your soul and faith away . Be more careful in choosing your friends."

lord Guy, who couldn't take it anymore, angrily left the hall and slammed the door behind him. if she wasn't the king's special guest, im sure she would be behaded right there.

A few people laughed a little after he left, but y/n said with obvious sadness in her voice, :"I've met hundreds of knights and members of this palace so far, some of them were very honest and sincere people like the king. But some, even a little bit They did not understood the real Christianity properly and only used it for their own benefit. It is true that I am not a Christian, but this much I understood that it is possible to live with someone despite all the differences without causing harm. The true love of God is never combined with ambition for power . And I wouldn't never exchange it to wealth."

she raised her head and returned to her previous determination: "That's enough for today. What you witnessed today is the separation of mind and heart. This duality exists in all religions. Make your choices!"

she was silent for a while, as if she was waiting for us to understand her words.

:"In any case, neither your lord Lusignan knows more than he should know, nor do I. Maybe he is blind, and I am also blind. The important thing is that the blindness of a person doesn't harm the sun. The discussion of people with different religions is also has no effect on God. Now you understand why your king always prefers peace."

she put her hand on her chest and said goodbye to all of us and left us all alone in that hall with thousands of questions.

I raised my head for a moment and was horrified by what I saw. I saw the king who witnessed all the events from behind the columns of the upper floor. I wanted to inform everyone but he gave me a sign that I should remain silent. Today was supposed to be a day full of mystery. didn't end well...

To be continued...

#koh #kingdom of heaven #king baldwin iv #kingdom of heaven 2005 #the leper king #imagine #baldwin iv x reader #baldwin iv #fandom #quotes #story #baldwin iv of jerusalem #kingdom of heaven fanfiction #fanfic #pov #crusader

[princess-of-thebes-1995]

Explicit Future Fanfic of King Baldwin IV x Reader

I want to write a smut scene with King Baldwin x Female Reader. Wedding night virgins. I am scared that my tumblr will be reported and deleted. Since, a lot of people hate the idea of having sex with a leper. Lepers are people too. I feel bad how they are not mentioned in books and movies like romances between cancer patients and other health illnesses. They need turns too.

Anyway, I want to do a one shot chapter where I will describe your wedding. The music and dances and stuff. And how people are mad at the King for not marrying a noble or royal. You are just voted as the most beautiful girl in the world. Like Helen of Troy. You are insecure. You were told that you were only an object of lust for the King and just a pretty face and nothing more. Baldwin noticed the rumors and he explained that he married you because he loves you and like this other fanfic I wrote....

You kissed a leper man while he was asleep. You did not knew it was the king. Baldwin did not reveal himself to you. Until the wedding night. He took off his mask. And he made love to you and it was gentle at first but then he got carried away.

But, there was one problem.... the law was that two of the King's closest trustees must watch him consummate his marriage.... So, Tiberius and Guy had to watch you and him. Haha. King Baldwin did not want to choose Guy but he had to pick another man other than Tiberius and Reynald De Chatillon is more vulgar than Guy.

Baldwin felt guilt and apologized and tried to make up for it. This is my ao3. Check it out once I publish it. https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimi2030

#fan fiction #fanfic #fanfiction #king baldwin #king baldwin iv #kingdom of heaven #literature #leper #leprosy #romance #smut

[jartitameteneis]

Saladino: Te pido que te retires y me dejes este asunto a mi.

Balduino: Te pido que te retires en paz a Damasco, Reynald de Chatillon, será castigado, lo juro. Retirate o todos moriremos... ¿Tenemos un trato?

Saladino: Tenemos un trato. Le enviaré a mis médicos.

Balduino: Salaam Aleikun.

Saladino: Aleikum Salaam.

[nothingnew-underthesun]

If I had a nickel for every time a crusader knight married a royal widow that was for love and not politics

It probably be more than I know about already

#balian of ibelin #guy of lusignan #reynald of Chatillon #crusades #each of these lads I know had a very clandestine marriage with varying degree of success #balian and Maria were a power couple #guy and Sybila were a disaster couple #and reynald was simply enabled to what he wanted to do

[incorrect-koh-posts]

Kingdom of Heaven (2005): Textpost Meme 14 / ?

#kingdom of heaven 2005 #baldwin iv #edward norton #hospitaller #david thewlis #balian of ibelin #orlando bloom #raymond iii of tripoli #jeremy irons #saladin #ghassan massoud #reynald of chatillon #brendan gleeson #guy de lusignan #marton csokas #kingdom of heaven shitposting #movies #textpost meme #movie memes #ridley scott

[theslowesthnery]

— King Baldwin IV scenes, 3/8: Jerusalem Has Come

The king confronts Saladin on the battlefield to dissuade him from starting a battle that would be the death of them all.

#literally the only thing preventing the battle here is saladin's respect for baldwin #the crusaders - reynald de chatillon and guy de lusignan specifically - have certainly given him enough reasons to attack #that he agrees to not only withdraw but to send baldwin his physicians says a lot about both of them #kingdom of heaven for blacklist

[pedroam-bang]

Kingdom Of Heaven (2005)

#2005 #gif #film #movie #Kingdom Of Heaven #Ridley Scott #Orlando Bloom #Balian de Ibelin #Velibor Topic #Almaric #Brendan Gleeson #Reynald de Chatillon #Ghassan Massoud #Saladin #Eva Green #Sibylla #Liam Neeson #Godfrey de Ibelin #Kerak #Jerusalem #Hattin #Graham Shelby #knights

[delunesnumberonefan]

ok no i was RIGHT he did attack a byzantine christian colony. cyprus. fuck i knew kia was right why doesn't wikipedia mention that cyprus was christian at the time that Reynald fucking TORTURED THEIR LEADER BECAUSE HE REFUSED TO COUGH UP ALL HIS MONEY

#Reynald de chatillon was a dickhead and i will stand by this #roselyn talks #impromptu history lessons with roselyn

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

Kingdom of Heaven (2005) - Brendan Gleeson as Reynald de Chatillon

Maybe it’s because this is the first time I’ve seen this, but I’d SO fuck Brendan dressed like this. Then again, I’d fuck him anyway.

[photoset #1 of 2]

#Brendan Gleeson #Kingdom of Heaven #handsome daddy #husky daddy #CILF #daddy #bearded daddy #movie #screenshots #actor #Jeremy Irons #beard mode

[bisexualdaemon]

Closer: All Hallows Eve (Vampire!Shawn)

a/n: hello, my dear friends! I haven’t written in an age and then Halloween happened and I couldn’t help but revisit my friend vampire!Shawn. this was going to be a blurb LOL and then ended up turning into a 5.5k oneshot(?) of this little universe I’ve created. I honestly think Closer is going to be non-linear. a series of oneshots of different periods in Shawn’s vampire life. this is one such period. btw, some of this is based on characterizations found in the show Versailles, so if you’re into that show you might find familiar things in here! enjoy!

The first chapter of Closer, along with the rest of my writing is linked in my masterlist! ❤️

warnings: smut, blood, bisexuality, more blood, aggression, mentions of infant mortality

Two fingers of scotch swirled in the tumbler in front of him. Some tawdry monster song poured from the jukebox to a full crowd on the dance floor, accompanied by hoots and hollers from the humans. Halloween was always an event at The Trinity. Old and young, sire and fledgling, all of them flocked to the city for the festivities, for the time when the wall between paranormal and normal was but a translucent curtain, easily passed through or, in the case of The Trinity, ripped down. It was this one night a year that vampires could feed openly and no one batted an eyelash. Humans came dressed in costume and paid a pricey cover fee to get in. Liquor flowed freely from John Somerset’s bar and The Trinity vibrated with energy from sundown to sun up.

“It’s not what it used to be, is it?” John walked over with Shawn’s favorite scotch to top off his glass. Shawn hummed his assent, remembering a time when humans knew nothing of vampires, and their feeding habits weren’t such a spectacle. He missed the old days. Missed the thrill of the chase.

Tonight, he’d put forth minimal effort to keep up with the expectation, just painted black fingernails and a touch of eyeliner. Humans didn’t need much convincing once they looked at him. He had always been beautiful, even when he was a human in the 14th century, but when he became a vampire, that beauty was eternalized, frozen forever. Neither women nor men could resist him and he knew it.

“Remember 1685?” Shawn sat back and tilted his head at John.

“Ah, yes. You were in France then, oui?” John winked, clearing the wine bottle that had stacked up behind the bar.

“I was,” Shawn hummed and swilled his glass, tipping it up and letting the brown liquor burn his throat all the way down to his empty and aching stomach. His eyes shut, lulled by the warmth of his drink. Hazy memories burst into color behind his eyes.

+

His heeled shoes clicked against the parquet floor, the burgundy brocade bows adorning his toes kept in place by antique silver buckles. It was 1685, and Louis, le Roi Soleil, was King of France. The chandeliers above the king’s new mirrored walkway were lit with dripping candles, makeshift skeletons hanging from them. A macabre scene set for the masquerade happening at the palace. The noise rose to deafening as he crept toward the ballroom, filled with courtiers and royal family members, all of them ready to lay down at Louis’ feet. He entered quietly, like he usually did, not wanting to draw attention to himself in a room full of humans.

“RAUL!” The Duke of Orléans shouted Shawn’s French name over the crowd. The King’s brother came rushing over, his advancing age finally beginning to show in his face, “how long have you been here?!”

“Philippe, you just saw me walk in the door. Don’t be coy.” Shawn drew him in for a kiss on each side of his face. Philippe reached up and tousled Shawn’s cropped, curly brown hair.

“You know if you just wore your hair long people wouldn’t ask so many questions.” Philippe knew Shawn’s dark secret, knew what others whispered about him. Shawn could look around the room and pick out the handful of courtiers he’d fed on, courtiers he’d taken to his rooms in Philippe’s wing of the palace. Though Philippe had never shared his bed, he’d been Shawn’s friend for years, since his brother welcomed Shawn to the palace in the wake of the English Civil War thirty-five years ago. The duke had been ten then. The forty-five year old man in front of him was starting to gray.

“What makes you think I don’t want them to ask questions?” Shawn smiled wide enough to show his already lengthening fangs responding to the adrenaline and blood present in the room. There was no better place to feed than at a party in the presence of the king.

“Monsieur!” The Chevalier de Lorraine came up behind Philippe, tickling his sides. Ever since he’d returned from his second exile, the Chevalier and Philippe had been more and more open about their continued affair, despite Philippe’s wife dancing not ten yards from them in the ballroom. In fact, Philippe was wearing one of her heavy brocatelle gowns, much to his brother’s chagrin, and a golden mask that hid his whole face.

Shawn’s own mask was black with burgundy texture, a demon in plain sight. His jacket and culottes were black, embroidered with burgundy bats and stars. The leather sewn sleeves allowed his deep red shirt to show beneath. He was every bit a vampire, but the fools in the ballroom were too blind to see it. Especially tonight of all nights, All Hallows’ Eve.

He could see a few others here. His kind stuck out like blinding beacon amongst this crowd of flushed and greedy humans. Some were regulars in this crowd. He spotted Reynald de Chatillon, an old foe, in the corner with his ruddy beard and thirst for young ladies-in-waiting. He regarded him, nodding, receiving little more than a sneer in return. But others were new. A delicate shoulder brushed against his and a brilliant jewel caught his eye. She was cold as ice with a matching frozen glare. Her perfectly coiffed and powdered gray wig bespoke her fledgling age. The older the vampire, the more out of fashion they tended to be, and she was the epitome of fashion. Down to the smooth yellow sapphire delicately tied around her neck. He’d never seen her before, not quite a rarity, but he would be sure to ask Philippe about her later.

“Gentlemen!” Shawn clapped one hand on Philippe’s shoulder and one hand on Chevalier’s, “we feast tonight!” The two men led Shawn to the front of the room, giggling at his double entendre. Before any feasting though, the three of them had to acknowledge the king. Shawn bowed.

“Raul. So good of you to come,” the king’s lip curved up in the corner somewhere between a smirk and a grimace. Louis had never been able to stomach the truth about Shawn, even though Shawn’s money had helped make him the so-called Sun King. His disgust relegated Shawn to his brother’s company, which caused no complaint. Philippe was pleased to keep Shawn close, an addition to his band of privileged misfits.

“You know, you might be the only person my brother is more disappointed to see at these functions than me,” Philippe bumped Shawn’s shoulder as they walked away.

“Disappointed and yet he keeps you here,” Shawn reminded Philippe.

“That’s the real humor in it. To trap me under his thumb, he must gaze upon my face every day.” The duke smiled wide and curtsied, fanning out his overskirt and sticking his tongue straight out when he stood up again.

The party had been going for hours before Shawn had walked in. Generic golden masks littered the tables, some soggy from tipped champagne flutes. Chevalier seized one, licking up some stray champagne from its edge. He’d come unprepared for the occasion as he usually did, unbothered by party themes especially those hosted at Versailles. Affixing the mask to his face, he grabbed at Philippe’s hand.

“Darling! Let us dance!”

Shawn let them skitter into the center of the dance floor without him. The crowd parted  to the center as it always did. Philippe was still the king’s brother and that afforded him privileges no matter what others thought of his choice of lovers. The two of them were so caught up in each other that the opinion of others didn’t matter.

Shawn kept to the perimeter, preferring to stalk the room. He caught eyes here and there. He could smell their responses to him before he saw them. A girl no more than eighteen flushed immediately when his eyes met hers, her giggle betraying her girlish immaturity. He turned from her, hearing her little sigh of disappointment, before his eyes stopped and lingered at someone else.

He was feeling aggressive tonight. Though his body was devoid of blood, the chemicals that had once made him human still coursed through his muscles. They made him strong and virile and, more than anything, an animal. He needed to chase tonight, to delight in the thrill of catching his prey.

He turned his nose toward the breeze in the room and let it guide him, taking quick sniffs, trying to cut through the smell of champagne and red wine. Closing his eyes to strengthen his other senses, he caught a whiff of cinnamon and turned his head. He honed in on the spice of it, the touch of bergamot that thickened the blood. When he opened his eyes, he couldn’t stop himself from gasping.

It was a man. A young man dressed in uniform with a navy blue mask, peacock feathers sprouting from the temples. The gold of his buttons glimmered in the candlelight, his jacket settled against a defined chest untouched by war. His turquoise and gold eyes contrasted starkly with the black eye kohl that ringed them, eyes that kept darting to and from Shawn’s face. Shawn stared, moving toward him slowly. Even though the room was filled with music and dancing and the dim hum of a thousand voices, he knew that his feet made no noise.  

The hunt had begun.

“Do you know,” Shawn reached out his hand and fingered the delicate feathers, “that these are the same color as your eyes?”

“Enchanté to you too, Monsieur Mendès. Or should I call you Shawn?” He emphasized the name with a curl in his lip.

“You know me?” Shawn’s eyes widened in surprise. In this court he’d only ever been known as Raul Mendès, the French rendering of one of his Christian names.

“If by know you, you mean do I know the truth of what people say about you?” he bowed low, his outstretched hand brushing Shawn’s shoes. “Then yes, I know you quite well.” When he reached his full height again, he had removed his mask and revealed his flushed pink cheeks. Shawn could see the blood rushing wildly with his quickly beating heart just under the skin. His mouth watered despite the panic rising in his throat.

“Well, well, and who are you, monsieur?” Shawn dipped his head, filled with nerves he’d never show. If he had a pulse right now, if would be racing. Thank God he hadn’t fed in over a month. A vampire’s name was a closely guarded secret, known only to familiars, especially a former name.

“I am Lucien de Foix, a captain in the king’s army,” he stuck out his hand for Shawn to shake. Shawn took it hesitantly, a creeping unsteadiness overtaking him. How does he know my name? He kept a grip on Lucien’s hand, squeezing a little harder than he normally would, squeezing until he could see the sweat forming on the young captain’s head. Lucien’s brow creased, his mouth opening as if he might cry out, but as he looked past Shawn something caught his eye and to Shawn’s horror, he smiled.

“There, there, Shawn,” a cold hand, accompanied by a female voice, ran down his back and caused him to shiver. “Fear not, we are the only ones here who know your secret.”

It was the young fledgling vampire with the powdered wig. Her skin, unlike the white painted faces in the room, was naturally pale as blank china, marred only by a pair of starkly painted black eyebrows and two round circles of blush. She pursed her lips, tinted crimson as if she’d recently fed and left the stain. She circled Shawn, stopping in front of him and linking her arm with Lucien’s. Shawn turned his hand, exposing Lucien’s wrist and the livid, purple pinpoint marks left by repeated feedings. He should have fucking known.

“So,” he squeezed his hand again, enough to feel the bones grind together, “you’re a blood slave.” The fledgling hissed at him, whether it was at sensing her toy’s pain or at his implication, he didn’t know. If he hadn’t been in a ballroom full of people, he might have snapped both their necks without consequence or remorse. As it was, he had to play nice.

“He is my husband,” she cooed into Lucien’s neck, her tongue darting out to trace the bulging vein running from his collar to his well-defined jaw.

“A tasty one at that, I presume,” Shawn smirked at her. He knew this game. Vampires developed a taste for certain humans, enthralling them, keeping them as pets. She may have convinced him that he meant something to her, something more permanent, but one day she would move on. He would not. He would likely descend into madness, looking for her or for his next pleasure fix, but no vampire would touch him after that. He would be persona non grata, tainted and tossed aside.

“Very,” she purred, “can I interest you in a taste?”

“That depends,” Shawn hated that his mouth was still watering, still craving the spice that his blood promised, “who are you and what do you want from me?”

“I,” she held her hand out for him to kiss in a deep curtsy, “am Madame de Montpensier, enchanté.” Her wig was fixed with several small doves, matching the embroidery on her silver and white gown. Even at her most bowed, the wig still reached clear over Shawn’s head. This vampire wanted to be seen.

“And I would like you to introduce me to your friends.” She nodded toward the two men still at the center of attention on the dance floor.

“To Philippe?” Shawn tipped his head and laughed, “Philippe has little time or regard for women. I doubt you’d gain any ground on that front.”

“Oh, it is not pour moi,” she nodded at Lucien and he advanced toward Shawn, his heart kicking up speed. Shawn’s fangs grew to full length. They ached to sink into his beautiful tan skin. God, it was as if she knew he hadn’t been feeding, knew his habits and preferences. His weakness for young men with ambition and a false sense of power. It was as if this Lucien had been groomed for this.

The pieces finally clicked. His eyes darkened and his voice lowered to a whisper through his teeth.

“Tell me, Madame, has Reynald fallen so far out of favor that he sends his young fledgling to do his bidding?” Fucking Reynald. This was low, even for a leech like Reynald. His claws were always in some king’s coattails. It was the only way to keep up with his ravenous appetite for blood and power.

“Reynald does not need you! He is just as powerful as he always was!” She seethed, tilting her head toward Lucien again. He draped himself in front of Shawn, practically offering himself for the taking. Shawn could feel his body stirring. He wanted this man, wanted to rip into his veins and drink until he couldn’t anymore, until his whole body was hot and flushed with the young captain’s blood. Until his heart beat again and the memories surged behind his eyelids.

“Reynald needs me plenty or you wouldn’t be here,” Shawn spat, locking eyes with Lucien, a hair’s breadth away from taking him right then and there. He dipped his head to Lucien’s ear, licking the outer shell and relishing the feel of his body shivering beneath him.

He could see his ministrations were having an effect on her. Her fangs were lengthening. Shawn could smell her arousal, the blood and adrenaline a trap for one so young as she was. She couldn’t have been more than fifty years dead, frozen forever in her twenty-year-old body. She was thirsty. All the time. That feeling, the clawing beast inside her skin that could never be sated, the endless need for blood in the first century of her new life would be almost unbearable.

He took Lucien’s earlobe between his teeth, grazing, but not breaking the skin before he whispered.

“Run.”

Lucien shot from Shawn’s arms, past his mistress and toward the enormous French doors that led to the outdoor terrace. Shawn was so attuned to him now, so caught up in the chase that he could hear Lucien’s booted footfalls on the delicately manicured grass over the din of the crowded room. He stood in front of Madame de Montpensier and waited.

“Thank you for the gift, you’re more than welcome to join me,” he heard his prey stumble on the gravel path near the great fountain in the garden, “but you can tell Reynald that it will take more than a beautiful boy and a game of blackmail to get me to do his bidding.” He brushed past her, too concentrated on the blood waiting for him in the garden to hear her cry of indignance.

Exiting the ballroom to the terrace, he crouched down and laid his palm against the chilly stone. He could hear Lucien breathing hard. He was running. His footfalls vibrated against the stone from the treeline, slower and slower until he stopped to catch his breath. Shawn smiled, finding his opportunity.

He sprinted, almost faster than a human eye could track, his vampire speed in the dark rendering him practically invisible. His feet barely touched the ground, silently making his way closer and closer toward Lucien’s gasping breaths. He stopped behind a tree, looking past it. Lucien was doubled over, his cheeks flushed with exhilaration, sucking cold air into his lungs and huffing out little clouds with every exhale. Shawn snapped a fallen twig under his heel on purpose.

“Who’s there?!” Lucien’s head snapped up.

“There, there, monsieur,” Shawn cooed, using his softest voice to soothe, “you knew it was me.” He smiled wide, his fangs extending past his lower lip, as if they might cut into his own skin. Stalking silently, he moved closer, taking measured, slow steps to put Lucien at ease. The blood tasted so much sweeter when it wasn’t tainted with fear.

“You won’t hurt me? Madame never makes it hurt.”

“I make no promises.” Shawn stopped just in front of him, dragging a cold finger down in his pink cheek. His skin was on fire despite the chill in the air. The warmth of his blood sang a rich melody that only Shawn could hear. It was intoxicating. He bent down to Lucien’s mouth, where the smell of him was strongest.

“Can I kiss you?” Shawn asked, an honest question. He prefered intimacy with his prey. He wanted them to feel the truth of his desire, wanted them to know that without them, he was nothing. As powerful as he was as a vampire, he was nothing without their blood. He wanted them to want it.

Lucien nodded his head, a crease between his eyes as if he was surprised he felt agreeable to it. Shawn grinned. Men were always surprised at how far they were willing to go to gain Shawn’s approval.

Shawn pressed his lips to Lucien’s and gasped into his mouth. It was simple, two lips pressed together, but it was heady with that natural spice that men always seemed to have. The power they sacrificed to be fed upon, the beautiful surrender of delicate ego. It was everything that he loved about being a vampire captured in a moment of pure submission. He pulled away light-headed, his eyes black with hunger.

Shawn’s cold fingers found Lucien’s neck, tipping it to the side, exposing that deep, pulsing vein that he could see beating a quick rhythm full of blood, even in the low light. He cradled his head and ran his tongue along the sinews, the muscles that would become his chalice. Lucien shivered, gasping a hot breath against Shawn’s cold skin, filling Shawn’s nose with that warm spice that he’d smelled on the air inside.

His fangs broke skin.

Lucien cried out. In pleasure or pain, Shawn didn’t know. He didn’t care. All he knew was the taste of the warm, viscous liquid pouring from Lucien’s neck. Cinnamon, citrus, smoke. Each note bloomed behind his closed eyes in brilliant jewel tones. Rubies, emeralds, and amethysts swirled like a kaleidoscope.

Shawn felt Lucien’s fingers curl into his hair and push his neck farther into Shawn’s mouth, forcing Shawn to pull even more of his precious blood. It overflowed, dripping in rivulets from Shawn’s mouth. There would be stains, evidence of what had happened, but Shawn didn’t care. He was lost in this man. For a split second, he understood why Montpensier had taken him as a slave. Regular encounters with these veins would surely drive him mad.

The kaleidoscope swam as it always did into images, the moments from his past that he hid from between feedings. The list he kept of the humans he’d fed on turned into faces, one by one swimming into his mind. Memories of blood, of battle, of humanity. His heart was coming alive again, beating strong with Lucien’s blood, stronger than Lucien’s own heart.

He pulled away panting. Lucien’s head lulled, still alive but incoherent. Shawn laid him gently on the cold ground and backed away, controlling the temptation to take all that Lucien would give him, all that he had to give. Leaning heavily on a massive old oak, Shawn’s mind swam. His old life, his old humanity was coming back to him on a tidal wave, slamming him over and over into the bark against his back. Poitiers, Agincourt, Bosworth, Paris, Bologne. So much death and blood and iron, battles between kings and men, all dead and buried, turned to dust.

The final wave of memories was always the same hazy image. A fire burning in the hearth of the home he’d built with his own hands, a woman and child in a chair before it. He walks up behind her, touching her shoulder, and she looks back smiling. The child suckling at her breast, warm and pink, fixes him with a blue-eyed stare. It was everything he’d ever wanted.

And it was taken from him.

His chest rose and fell. The compelling need to breathe to keep up with his newly beating heart overwhelmed him. He always felt most human in the seconds just after the feed. Though blood coated his chin and ran down to his now ruined shirt, his senses were dulled to that of a living thing. He couldn’t hear past the beating of his own heart, couldn’t taste past the life he’d consumed. He was vulnerable and she knew it.

Madame de Montpensier had been watching. She came out from behind the tree where she’d been hiding, smiling wide, fangs grown to their full length. Closing the gap between them quickly, she planted her hands above Shawn’s shoulders, her fingers playing with the loose curls at his neck.

“Isn’t he lovely?” She cooed, looking back at her pet lying on the ground.

“He is,” Shawn licked his lips, turning her head with his fingers to look him in the eye, “‘tis a dangerous game you play with Reynald. You would do well to not cross me again.”

“Reynald is gone,” she whispered, “and besides, I’m not sure he interests me anymore.” She set him with a look, a look that shouted his needs and greatest desires into existence. If he wanted her, he only needed to reach out and take.

“Oh, does he not? Madame, I know you are young,” he rested his forehead against hers, his earlier anger eroding by the second, “but you will find disavowing your sire more difficult than you think.”

“That may be,” she lifted up onto her tip-toes, reaching her tongue out to lap up some of Lucien’s still warm blood from Shawn’s chin, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun while I try.” She ran her hand down his chest to where the blood he’d taken from Lucien was rapidly pooling in his groin.

He growled, taking her hand and moving to drag her off to the nearest bedroom. She dug in her heels to stop him, looking back at Lucien still passed out.

“Leave him,” Shawn barked, “perhaps it will teach him not to dally with vampires.”

In a moment, they were back in Shawn’s rooms, a trail of shredded clothing on the floor from the door to the bed. She moved to remove her choker but he stopped her.

“Leave it on,” he snarled, rolling his hose down and removing the last of his ripped and bloody shirt. She moved her hands away from her throat and sat back on the bed, leaning back on her hands. She spread her legs in an open invitation.

She was fucking beautiful. Her skin glowed in the half-burned candles sitting on every surface, smooth and unmarred by age or sickness. He couldn’t stop himself from groaning. It had been some time since he’d been with a woman. Too long. He approached her slowly, bending down to crawl on his knees to her.

He covered her body with his, taking in her clean scent suffused with Lucien’s. They were both warm, hearts beating together with the same blood. She curled her legs around his thighs.

“I want you inside me.” She purred in his ear.

All he’d needed was permission. He drove his hips into hers, pumping deep into her warm cunt. She cried out, arching her back and clamping her arms into his wrists. Her nails dug into his skin, drawing blood. Hissing, he pulled back and lifted onto his knees. She laughed, licking each of her crimson stained fingers.

“Come on, Shawn. Give me everything you’ve got.”

He roared. Grabbing her hips, he pulled almost all the way out of her warmth and then tugged her back onto him. Their skin met in a deliciously wet slap and echoed off the ornate walls. It was intense. He felt her clench around him, deep inside, all the way through his repeated strokes. He rowed into her over and over and over again until the delicate doves placed in her wig flew off the bed, cracking loudly against the floor. She held tight to the bedpost behind her, her strength creating resistance for him to fuck harder into.

He wasn’t going to last much longer like this, but he needed her there with him. To fall off the cliff and into the ocean of Lucien’s blood that they shared. He wrapped his arm around her middle, hauling her up to his chest and slamming them both backward against the headboard, still fucking his hips up into hers.

Her eyes were black, her mouth open in silent pleasure. He wanted to hear her scream.

Shawn ducked his head to her chest, placing open mouthed kisses along her breast bone. Her red-flushed nipples called to him, grazing his chest with every thrust.

“Come with me.”

He sank his fangs into her breast, suckling on her perfect diamond-hard peaks. Blood rushed again into his mouth, filling him with that spicy, citrusy blood he’d lost himself in earlier. It mixed with florals, oleander and magnolia, inside her body and he came hard with the mix of masculine and feminine.

“Shawn!” she cried, bearing down on him harder than ever, riding her own orgasm into the wall behind her. They rocked back and forth together. Shawn fucked his hips up into hers as she held his head to her chest. Her memories came to him, blooming in front of him as strong as her shaking body in his arms.

There were not many of them; as he had suspected, she was not old. He saw her as a young woman, a human, hand in hand with a child, a daughter, with bouncy, loose blond curls. He saw her dressed all in black, saw Reynald finding her on her knees beside a child’s mausoleum. He promised he could take her pain away.

Reynald lied.

He let go of her breast, breathless for the second time that night. She heaved against him, clawing at his face, pulling him to her lips. Blood poured into her mouth and they both moaned, her memories and his mixing. New and old, predator and prey, lovers.

They collapsed onto the blood stained sheets. Shawn held his arms open and she crawled into them quietly, fingering the bit of chest hair that had grown before he had left his humanity behind. She knew what he’d seen. When vampires fed from each other, the memories flashed in both their minds.

“Reynald made false promises because he wanted you,” he whispered, tracing patterns on her bare skin, “he is nothing but a liar.”

“Will I ever forget her?” she asked, knowing the answer but needing to hear it from someone she knew would tell her the truth.

“No,” he kissed her forehead, “she will come to you every time you feed, just like I see my wife and child even now more than three hundred years since their passing.”

“Teach me,” she pleaded, the hazel of her human eyes bright after feeding, “teach me how to live with the pain.”

“Shhhh,” he smoothed her hair, “let us sleep.” He draped the heavy blankets over them and she rested her head on his shoulder.

“Nothing could dare hurt you here.”

+

“Shawn?” John clinked his glass with an empty beer bottle, “I think someone is watching you.” He nodded to a far corner, beyond the sea of human and vampire heads now dancing idiotically to “Monster Mash.” The figure moved with inhuman speed through the crowd.

He blinked to make sure he wasn’t seeing a ghost.

How in the —

“Oh, don’t look so shocked to see me, Shawn,” she lifted her black leather covered leg over his, “All Hallows Eve always was our time.” Her lips, always painted red, lifted back over her cartoonishly long fake fangs.

“Hélène, what are you doing here?”

“Don’t you mean, Hélène, how did you escape when I left you for dead?” She narrowed her eyes to slits, her long chandelier earrings tinkling under her blunt-cut black bob haircut.

“It was 1792, Ellie. You wouldn’t leave France. You made your choice.”

“It was my home!”

John made a clicking noise, “vampire disputes go outside.”

“There’s no need, John. She was just going,” Shawn glared at her. “We have no dealings. If you are only interested in blaming me for what I could not change, then we have nothing to discuss.”

She slammed her hand down on the bar, leaving a wax-sealed envelope in front of him. An ornate, crimson R was pressed into the black wax.

“Reynald requests your presence.”

“You went back to him?” Shawn shook his head, a humorless grin pulling at the corner of his mouth, “after all that time?”

“Yeah, well he didn’t abandon me.” She picked up her leg and turned to leave, giving his curls a tug at the last second. He caught her hand and pulled it to his lips. She was warm, recently fed. He had always loved her skin in the days after a feeding, curling into her warmth every night in bed. They fed and fucked and drank and danced for a century and she still went back to him.

“I never meant for that to happen.” He wasn’t sure what he had meant to happen all those years ago when he left her, the peasants breaking windows and setting fires a few blocks from their Paris apartment, but he sure as hell didn’t mean for her to go to him.

“We never mean for bad things to happen, but it’s like you said that first night. I don’t know why I ever thought I could disavow him.” She wiped at the corner of her eye, ripping her hand from his and hurrying away from the bar.

Shawn ripped open the note she’d left.

Dear Shawn Peter Raul Mendes,

Did I get all of your names in? I do love knowing them all.

Isn’t she lovely? Thank you for taking her in all those years ago. She was too headstrong, too willing to leave. I love her now. My beautiful broken pony. She begged for my forgiveness. I gave it to her. It took awhile. Fifty years in an abandoned well. That was how long it took to get your stink off of her.

I do hope you’ll come see us. I’m sure you remember where to find me.

Best wishes,

  Reynald

Shawn crumpled up the old piece of paper and lobbed it into the fire near the stairs to the street. White, hot anger courses through him. He needed to leave before he took and fed on the first thing that fell into his arms, unsure if he could feed without draining. He needed to find Hélène. He needed to find Reynald.

I’m going to kill that bastard once and for all.

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