Baldwin IV

The city awoke enveloped in the ringing of bells.
They weren't entirely festive; they sounded grave, solemn, as if even the stone knew that this day wasn't celebrating love, but a pact with history. Jerusalem had dressed itself in white and gold, and the holy ground received measured steps, hushed voices, silent, judging glances.
They prepared you without asking you anything.
The hands that adjusted your clothing trembled more than yours.
The veil fell like a foreign promise over your head, embroidered with threads inherited from queens who also learned too soon the price of wearing a crown. It smelled of incense, myrrh, destiny.
When you crossed the threshold of the temple, you saw it.
Baldwin was already there.
She wore the kingdom's colors, sober and immaculate. The mask covered her face as always, but her posture wasn't rigid: she was aware. Of you. Of the moment. Of the precise weight of every glance.
He didn't notice you right away. He waited.
Only when you were just the right distance did he barely incline his head. It wasn't a formal gesture, but a personal one. I'm here.
The priest spoke of God, of unity, of duty. The words floated by without anchoring you. What sustained you was feeling Baldwin's hand reaching for yours. Firm. Warm. Human. He didn't squeeze. He didn't demand. He simply stayed.
"Breathe," he murmured barely, just for you. "The worst is over."
Perhaps it wasn't true, but he said it as if he wanted it to be.
When they uttered the vows, your voice didn't break. Neither did theirs. Promises made not from illusion, but from the awareness of what was being sacrificed… and of how little could still be saved.
There was no kiss.
Instead, Baldwin rested his forehead against yours for a brief moment, invisible to almost everyone.
"Thank you," she whispered. "Not for accepting, but for not running away."
And then you understood: you had not joined a distant king, but a man marked by death who, even so, had decided to walk with you as long as time allowed.

Now the banquet awaited them to celebrate.