permanent happiness 4
Title: Permanent happiness 4 (a continuation of Can You Feel This?)
Author: ratherbrightred
Pairing: Baldwin/Balian (woo!)
Rating: nc-17!
Summary: An unabashedly plotless, sex-driven lepic. This exciting chapter: Baldwin has a mysterious late night visitor. Previous parts here. For those of you who want to proudly advertise your affiliation with the Baldwin Porn bus, I give you: the bus. Drivers wanted.
Warnings: kinda long. Also, weepy!Baldwin
A/N: they're back! I think this is the last one from Baldwin's perspective. Knowing my penchant for procrastinating with this story, I will probably write one more series that will take us to Baldwin's sad end. Then it's time for indigo17 to write us some angsty Tiberias/ Balian "oh how we miss leppy!sex" porn. And oh God, I'm itching to post the MIDGET INTERLUDE, but it comes after this part chronologically. So hold on! Tiberias/midget is coming…sooner than you think. Also, according to our friend Bernard Hamilton, Baldwin was indeed completely blind by the time he died.
Also, a request: Someone please write some Saladin slash. Thank you.
and a disclaimer: Obviously Baldwin & Balian are not gay together, although Baldwin doesn't have much of a choice, given that the only woman in the film is his sister. None of these characters belong to me, and I mean no offense. Be sure to investigate the list of leprosy charities in the header for part one, as leprosy is very real, although my fic is not.
Edit: Oh God, I made a flag for us. So many people have been talking about waving flags, I felt compelled. Also, I made substantial progress on the dissertation, so I deserve some photoshop r & r. Background is from finger_painter, flag and cucumbers are from the internets.
It was several months before Balian managed his trip to Jerusalem. I received letters from him once or twice a week. He mentioned my sister, telling me how she had interrupted him while he was writing to me and then kissed him unexpectedly, which lead to some other unexpected things. He wrote that "she resembles you; her thin, pale thighs and her sharp hip bones remind me so much of you that I feel tears in my eyes whenever I see her spread out on the bed like you used to be." He said their affair didn't last long, which relieved me greatly. I told him about Tiberias, electing not to mention the lewd things he had done to me. I also kept quiet about the silver cock, wanting it to be a surprise. Tiberias had shared my bed only once more after that first time. He usually left after I fell asleep. Nothing had changed between us. If anything, I felt closer to him, and I trusted him even more.
For quite some time, at least a month, I had been having trouble with my vision. I stayed quiet about it, knowing there was nothing to be done, but it made writing letters much harder. I coerced my nephew into writing for me, but there were things I wanted to say that I couldn't tell him, so I usually added a bit at the end. Balian was worried about me when my letters stopped being in my hand, and I think he doubled his efforts to visit me because of this. At last, I told Tiberias about my eyes, only because I was starting to have trouble reading the endless papers he piled up on my desk. He started reading them aloud.
My nephew was becoming more comfortable with me, probably because Guy wasn't around to tell him I was a pervert, and his mother was still in Ibelin, so I was his last resort. I introduced him to Tiberias' pudding, but then eased off on this a bit when I thought he was gaining weight. I could eat for days and still look half-starved; little Baldwin didn't share my condition. I had started to illustrate a variety of great battles with his toy soldiers, hoping that he would retain the information and find a use for it later. This was turning into quite a pastime. I did extensive research about each one, ordering books from Europe, and holding them in the bright light of the sun so I could look at the pictures, asking Baldwin to read the writing aloud. I could still read if I held the page close to my face, but this strained me. That day we were staging the Second Battle of Adrianople, and I had to enlist the knights from the chess set to properly convey all the horses involved. He liked horses, so he was as interested in this as in any of our somewhat boring activities.
Our battle went late, and he ate with me, looking hungrily at the food on my plate, which was disappearing behind my mask very very slowly.
"Wait, Baldwin, let yourself feel that you've eaten. You don't want to be fat like Guy, do you?"
He shook his head. I smiled under my mask, happy to give Baldwin a poor impression of the man.
After dinner, we concluded the battle quickly, skipping some important bits for the sake of efficiency. I was tired, and tempted to fall into bed in my clothes, but Abul appeared and helped me change. In my dark room, I could barely make out his face. Even in the sunlight, I was having trouble seeing people's faces clearly. What would I do when I was blind? My hands were numb; I couldn't even feel my way around that way. This thought made a lump of fear grow in the pit of my stomach as I crawled in bed. Abul handed me Balian's clothes, which were threadbare and no longer smelled of him, and I curled up in a ball, burying my head in the pillows. What would I do? I would have to have help with absolutely everything. How would I manage?
Just as I pushed these thoughts to the edge of my mind and was falling asleep, I heard Tiberias walk in, his chain mail making all kinds of noise. It was late for this, I thought, listening to him undress. I heard the softer sound of his clothes rustling and falling to the ground, then I heard him cleaning himself up at the wash basin. I hoped he wasn't feeling amorous. I was not up for it. Tiberias had a very active love life, and he'd only come to me one other time since that first night, offering to cheer me up on a particularly bad day. There had been several hangings that day, and Tiberias had described the proceedings in detail while he made love to me, which disgusted me, but seemed to excite him. He told me that men get erections when they are hanged, something I really didn't need to know.
"Baldwin," Tiberias said softly, climbing in bed beside me. I felt him wrap his arms around me and pull me close. "Baldwin," he said again. "Wake up." His voice was different. Higher, purer. Like Balian's voice. I turned to face him, wishing I could see clearly.
"Balian?"
"I told you I'd come back for you."
"Is it you, Balian? Am I dreaming?" I touched his face with the better of my hands; my left hand had taken a turn for the worse recently.
"You're looking at me, aren't you?"
Something in my expression must have betrayed me, because he held me closer, kissing my neck. "You can't see me, can you?"
"No," I said, my voice small, muffled by his shoulder.
"Oh, my sweet love, for how long? How long have you been like this?"
"The last few weeks."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I thought you would know, from the letters, that I wasn't able to write."
"I thought it had to do with your hands."
"Oh." I hadn't thought of that.
"Who wrote for you?"
"My nephew." My face brightened. "He likes me better now," I said, smiling. "We reenact battles."
"Yes, I tripped over one of them on my way in."
"Balian," I sighed, tucking my head under his chin. "You're here. You came back for me."
"Did you doubt me?"
"No. Maybe sometimes."
"I will always come for you," he whispered, stroking my neck with his hand. "I love you, I will always come for you. Never doubt me again, Baldwin."
I nodded, breathing in his smell. I was glad he hadn't bathed properly. "You just arrived?"
"Yes."
"Is Sibylla with you?"
"No, she remains in Ibelin. I think she's started an affair with one of my house boys."
"Tart." I sighed. I had been hoping she would come home. I missed our afternoon chats about Guy's penis, and our pity chess sessions. Balian was always good for pity chess, but he lost miserably, spectacularly even, which took some of the sport out of it. "How long will you stay?"
"Two days."
I almost sobbed. I felt tears in my eyes, and I bit my tongue so I didn't cry out. "Stay," I said, when I had composed myself somewhat. "Please stay, Balian, please stay with me, don't leave me-"
"Baldwin, calm yourself. I have to go back. I am needed there."
I shook my head. "I need you more here," I said weakly. It wasn't true; Ibelin needed him. He did have to be there. "Balian, we don't have much time. I'll be blind in another month. I swear it, I see less and less each day."
"Sssh, don't think of that. Don't look ahead."
I had every intention of staying awake; I planned not to sleep a wink the entire time he was with me, but somehow, between his warm hand on my back and his deep, long breaths, I fell asleep. Next thing I knew it was morning, and very bright. Balian had buried his face under a pillow. I had taken my curtains down weeks ago, trying to make the room as bright as possible, so I could see better. I sat up and watched Balian sleep, able to make out the outline of his body, and his mop of black hair. I ran my hand over his hair, then down his spine, resting my palm on his smooth, pale bottom. He made a small sound, burrowing deeper into the pillows. I covered him up again when I felt him shiver.
My nephew came tearing into the room just as Abul arrived with my breakfast tray. "What's the battle today?" he asked, launching himself into bed with me and helping himself to a handful of the fruit on my breakfast tray.
"Give me one of those," I said, pulling my veil back and letting him pop a grape into my mouth. "No battle today." Balian emerged from the pillows and opened one eye, squinting at my nephew. "Baldwin, this is Balian, Baron of Ibelin."
"Hello," Baldwin said politely.
"Hello," Balian replied, his voice scratchy. "Why is it so bright in here?"
"Uncle is going blind, so I took all the curtains down so he can see better." It had been his idea, and he was very proud of himself. "Is he naked, too?"
"Who else have you been sleeping with?" Balian asked, holding the pillow to his face.
"Just, um, Tiberias. The one time."
"Whatever you say." Balian yawned, starting to get out of bed. I put my hand out and stopped him. "No, wait. He doesn't like naked people."
"But I have to take a--"
"Baldwin, why don't you go find your nurse and see if you can go look at the horses today? Doesn't that sound fun?"
"Will you go with me?"
"No, I have to stay here. But you go, and tell me all about it."
He nodded, looking over at Balian apprehensively, and left. Balian found his way to the toilet quickly, walking in a funny, lock-kneed way. "So, how was it with Tiberias?" Balian asked me when he returned. He pulled me close and fed me the fruit that my nephew hadn't consumed.
"Fine," I said vaguely, wondering how to tell him about the silver object in the drawer.
"Just fine?"
"No, it was…good. You know. Good."
"What did he do? He must have been different from me."
"He, ah…he made me something. Had something made."
"I told you it would turn him on. Where is it? Show me."
"It's in the drawer. With the oil."
I held my breath as Balian opened the drawer and pulled the velvet away from it. I'd used it a few times by myself, and in possibly the most embarrassing moment of my relationship with him thus far, I'd asked Abul to have it cleaned for me. I didn't ask him to clean it himself, but any reference to it was unspeakably awkward. He had taken it, wrapped in paper, and murmured "So it is true," before walking off with it.
"It's beautiful," Balian said. I think he was smiling. "How often did you…see him?"
"Only twice."
"Oh." The silver cock made it seem like a committed relationship, I suppose; it was anything but. "What was different? What did he do?"
"He…did…well…I'll…hmm. I’ll show you later?"
"All right," Balian said, examining the base of the dildo closely. "Did you notice this? It has holes, so you could tie it on, I suppose."
I hadn't noticed the holes, and couldn't see them. "I guess they thought I really, you know, wear this around, or something."
"Do you fit inside it? You might be too big for it." Balian pulled my gown up and undid my trousers, pulling them off and teasing me with the scrap of velvet until I was quite hard. He popped the silver cock over my own and smiled. I felt kind of strange and claustrophobic. It felt like it had created some sort of suction inside there, and I was worried my cock would suffocate or burst or something. "What do you think?"
"It's…it feels strange. I don't know if I like it."
"Well, see if you get used to it." He adjusted my clothes so there wasn't any unnecessary skin showing "Did anything else come with it?"
"No, it just came with that velvet. And the paper." I'd kept the paper for some reason, I don't know why. Balian took the paper and went through it thoroughly, sighing when he didn't find a means of attaching it. "Well, no matter, I feel like it's pretty well stuck on without help." I sat up experimentally, and it stayed on, though it felt heavy. Balian laid back in bed and watched me, parting his legs invitingly. I wasn't sure I could manage to push inside him at this angle with this contraption, but I had another idea.
"I want to show you what Tiberias did," I said nervously, hoping Balian wouldn't find this as disgusting as I had. Taking my trousers, I covered his hole with them and bent down, pushing my tongue against his opening.
"Oh, God, yes," was his response, so I figured it was all right. "Oh, please, Baldwin, do that again."
"You've done this before?"
"Of course, I just…you're so sensitive and it being your first time and all…I skipped it."
I went back to my task, tonguing him until the silk was wet and my neck was sore. I pulled away and he reached into the drawer, retrieving the fancy bottle of oil Tiberias had given me. "I can't," I said, shaking my head when he spread out in front of me again. "I don't think it'll stay on like that."
"Lie back," he whispered, pushing me onto my back and straddling me. I watched him oil up the shiny silver surface and part himself with his fingertips, pushing two fingers inside and preparing himself before slowly impaling himself on me. I could see everything quite well; the sun was smack in the middle of the mattress, and Balian was dark against my nightclothes.
"Don't touch my skin," I whispered, nodding as he pulled the sheets up over my thighs.
"Does this feel good?" he asked, taking my hand and folding it around his dripping erection. I could see his hips move over me, and the muscles in his thighs working as he raised and lowered his body. It didn't feel bad, but the metal didn't have much give to it. It was more the idea that I was inside him, really inside him, that excited me. I nodded, pushing my hips up to meet him. He moaned when I did that, so I kept it up, smiling as he tipped his head back and opened his mouth.
"You feel so good," he said, sighing. "At last, I can feel you inside me." I shut my eyes, wishing he really could feel me. My imprisoned cock wished for it too. Balian came with a long, shuddering sigh, sitting in my lap for a moment before lifting himself up and extracting me from the royal dildo. I held my breath as he did so, worried my real cock would twist off with the fake one. It didn't. Balian washed it out at the basin and returned to bed. He bent over me, still out of breath from his own pleasure, and pulled my gown up between my legs so he could put his mouth on me like Tiberias had done.
"Oh, I've missed you," I said, pushing my hips into his tongue, spreading my legs wide as he pulled my clothes away and slowly worked the length of silver inside me.
"This has just been inside me," he whispered, crawling up my body and kissing my cheek. "And now it's inside you, still warm from my body. Do you feel that?"
I nodded, opening my mouth when he pressed his lips to mine through my veil. "I love you," he murmured between kisses. "I love you so much it hurts."
I wasn't able to speak, but I managed a long moan. Balian propped himself up on his elbow and continued kissing me, his warm tongue tracing my lips and sometimes dipping down to my chin and my neck. His arm rubbed against my cock as he fucked me with Tiberias' gift, and it wasn't long before I was so close I was shaking. I spread my legs wider, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him down until he was on top of me, his arm between us. It was one of my most magnificent wet spots yet. Balian cleaned us both up, leaving the silver cock floating obscenely in the wash basin.
He wrapped himself around me and I listened to the sound of his heart, feeling complete for the first time since he had left.
"Your lips," he whispered after a few minutes. "They've changed."
I nodded.
"There's less there, I can’t feel your upper lip anymore."
"I've not improved since you left, if that's what you're asking."
"Are you well, otherwise? Besides your sight, is there anything else wrong?"
"My hands are worse. And my feet." I sighed. "My tailor had to change my gloves. He sewed the fingers together at the bottom so I can fit into them." I made a face behind my bandages. "Soon I'll be wearing mittens."
"And you've lost weight."
I shrugged. "That's neither here nor there."
"You were too thin before."
I pushed my face into his neck, kissing his collarbone and letting my nose rest on his shoulder. "Stay," I whispered into his skin. He didn't hear me. "Please stay," I whispered again, as much to myself as to him. I pulled away, not sure if what I was about to do would make him stay or prompt him to run screaming back to Ibelin, if not France.
I sat in front of him and pulled my veil back, then completely off. He looked up at me, sitting up against the mountain of pillows on my side of the bed and pulling the sheets up around his waist. I silently cursed my bandaged hands as I fumbled around for the start of the cloth that covered my face. At last I found it. My neck was wrapped with a thicker piece of cloth, which I loosened and pulled away before picking up the end of the long bandage that wrapped around my head. I pulled it off, bending my head down so I could reach the back of my skull.
I raised my head slowly, sure that I looked a mess, my wet spot a prominent feature on my gown, my filthy bandages piled beside me on the mattress, and my disfigured face clear as day in the morning light. He looked back at me, his face fuzzy enough that I couldn't see his expression. I shook my head, starting to get up. "I'm sorry," I said, scooting to the edge of the bed. A hand stopped me. He gripped my arm just above my elbow and pulled me back into bed, close to him, until I was sitting in his lap. He reached out to me and I tensed up, relaxing only when his hand stopped an inch from my cheek and hovered over my skin.
"Are you in pain?" he finally asked. "Does it hurt?"
I shook my head, looking down at my lap.
"I can see the handsome man you were," he whispered, his fingers lingering under my right eye.
"Are you frightened of me?" I asked. He shook his head, adding a soft "no" when he remembered I couldn't see.
"I love you," he added, settling his hand on my arm. "It's just skin."
I managed a small smile, which I'm sure looked more like a grimace, but I felt tears rising up from my tight throat. He pulled me close, plucking my trousers from the bedclothes and tucking my head under his chin, pressed against the silk. I could feel his warmth through the fabric. "Just skin," he said again, rubbing my back and letting me cry.
I must have fallen asleep like that, because when I next opened my eyes, I heard my doctor talking to Balian, explaining how he had to take me away and give me my useless skin treatments. Balian seemed reluctant to relinquish me. I felt his arm tighten around my shoulders.
"Let him watch," I said, sitting up and mustering as much dignity as I could.
"Are you sure, my lord?"
"Yes, I'm sure. Let him watch." I pulled my veil over my bare face and followed the doctor outside, waiting for Balian to pull his clothes on and follow us. I'd very sensibly avoided any bright colors for the set of clothes I had made for him in case he ever returned. They'd been sitting on a small stool at the foot of my bed for the past months, probably dusty by now. We made our way to the private room reserved for my foul smelling ordeal, and Balian sat in the corner and watched my clothes and my bandages come off. It was dark in there, and I couldn't see him, but something told me he was upset. His breathing changed, and his posture changed as well. After my doctor looked me over, one of my nurses bathed me, asking me questions about this and that, eventually falling silent. The process took longer than any conversation we could have. "Balian?" I asked, looking at him and not seeing him. "Balian, are you all right?"
"Yes," he said, his voice quite small. I tried my best to focus on him, and I saw that he'd turned away.
"Go," I told him. "Go, Balian."
"No, I'll stay."
"You cannot stand the sight of me. You should go. Go to Ibelin. Go home, just go."
"I didn't want you to see me upset," he said, facing me again.
"I can't see five feet in front of my own face," I snapped, really feeling aggravated at this point. "Go."
"Balian, do you want to learn how to wrap his feet?" my nurse asked, pretending I wasn't there. He nodded, and knelt beside her, watching her bandage my left foot and my leg. He looked up at me before picking up the roll of cloth and bandaging the other leg. His hand lingered on my knee, and I reached out to touch him, grateful when the nurse pulled me away and started wrapping my hands.
"You must be in so much pain," Balian whispered, holding the foot he had wrapped in his lap. He saw me trying to focus on him, and kindly spoke, explaining, "I'm touching your foot, underneath, rubbing back and forth, and I'm holding your ankle."
"I don't feel the pain," I told him, straightening my head so my nurse could wrap my face. I wrinkled my nose at my doctor's latest brilliant plan for my upper lip. The treatments became fouler and fouler as time went by.
"Come here, Balian, so I can show you how to wrap his neck." Balian stood behind my nurse and watched her tuck the bandages into the thicker piece of cloth that covered my neck. "Do you see how I did that?" She pulled my clothes on, buttoning me up and fastening my trousers before putting my mask on and adjusting my veil around the top of it. "There you are, dear," she whispered, patting my back. "Balian, please wait outside for us," she said, and I heard him walk away. She sat in front of me, holding my hands. She was an older woman, one of the few western women in the palace, and she was some sort of nun. She'd founded and managed a few leper colonies, and now I had her all to myself. I had been frightened of her when I first met her, but she was in truth very kind and gentle.
I looked up at her, struggling to make out the features of her plump face.
"You mustn't treat Balian like that," she told me. "He only wants to help you. It's overwhelming, to see everything all at once. He was upset. It wasn't that he couldn't stand the sight of you; he was just upset. He feels badly for you. He wants you to be well. Understand?"
I nodded, feeling fifteen again.
"You're beautiful to him, remember that. And to me."
I nodded again, giving up on finding her face in the darkness.
Balian waited for me outside, running his hands over the cool surface of the mask, shaking his head as he did so. "I was afraid," he whispered, his hands on my shoulders, then around my back, pulling me close. "I didn't know it would be so hard to see you. It looks so painful, your hands, and your feet."
"I cannot feel it, Balian," I said patiently, stroking his hair as he slid down to his knees, holding me around the waist and pushing his cheek into my stomach. "I apologize, for what I said. For telling you to go. You know I don't want you to go."
He nodded. I felt his warm breath penetrate my clothes. I stood like that for a long time, until he pulled away and stood up, taking my hand and walking me back to my bedroom, still bright with morning light. We found a fresh breakfast tray there, and he fed me pieces of fruit in silence, his fingers slipping grapes under the mask and lingering on my lips.
I knew he would leave in only a few days, but for that brief moment, I let myself believe that this would last forever, his fingertips brushing against my lips, the fruit sweet on my tongue, his body warm against my back.
Author: ratherbrightred
Pairing: Baldwin/Balian (woo!)
Rating: nc-17!
Summary: An unabashedly plotless, sex-driven lepic. This exciting chapter: Baldwin has a mysterious late night visitor. Previous parts here. For those of you who want to proudly advertise your affiliation with the Baldwin Porn bus, I give you: the bus. Drivers wanted.
Warnings: kinda long. Also, weepy!Baldwin
A/N: they're back! I think this is the last one from Baldwin's perspective. Knowing my penchant for procrastinating with this story, I will probably write one more series that will take us to Baldwin's sad end. Then it's time for indigo17 to write us some angsty Tiberias/ Balian "oh how we miss leppy!sex" porn. And oh God, I'm itching to post the MIDGET INTERLUDE, but it comes after this part chronologically. So hold on! Tiberias/midget is coming…sooner than you think. Also, according to our friend Bernard Hamilton, Baldwin was indeed completely blind by the time he died.
Also, a request: Someone please write some Saladin slash. Thank you.
and a disclaimer: Obviously Baldwin & Balian are not gay together, although Baldwin doesn't have much of a choice, given that the only woman in the film is his sister. None of these characters belong to me, and I mean no offense. Be sure to investigate the list of leprosy charities in the header for part one, as leprosy is very real, although my fic is not.
Edit: Oh God, I made a flag for us. So many people have been talking about waving flags, I felt compelled. Also, I made substantial progress on the dissertation, so I deserve some photoshop r & r. Background is from finger_painter, flag and cucumbers are from the internets.
It was several months before Balian managed his trip to Jerusalem. I received letters from him once or twice a week. He mentioned my sister, telling me how she had interrupted him while he was writing to me and then kissed him unexpectedly, which lead to some other unexpected things. He wrote that "she resembles you; her thin, pale thighs and her sharp hip bones remind me so much of you that I feel tears in my eyes whenever I see her spread out on the bed like you used to be." He said their affair didn't last long, which relieved me greatly. I told him about Tiberias, electing not to mention the lewd things he had done to me. I also kept quiet about the silver cock, wanting it to be a surprise. Tiberias had shared my bed only once more after that first time. He usually left after I fell asleep. Nothing had changed between us. If anything, I felt closer to him, and I trusted him even more.
For quite some time, at least a month, I had been having trouble with my vision. I stayed quiet about it, knowing there was nothing to be done, but it made writing letters much harder. I coerced my nephew into writing for me, but there were things I wanted to say that I couldn't tell him, so I usually added a bit at the end. Balian was worried about me when my letters stopped being in my hand, and I think he doubled his efforts to visit me because of this. At last, I told Tiberias about my eyes, only because I was starting to have trouble reading the endless papers he piled up on my desk. He started reading them aloud.
My nephew was becoming more comfortable with me, probably because Guy wasn't around to tell him I was a pervert, and his mother was still in Ibelin, so I was his last resort. I introduced him to Tiberias' pudding, but then eased off on this a bit when I thought he was gaining weight. I could eat for days and still look half-starved; little Baldwin didn't share my condition. I had started to illustrate a variety of great battles with his toy soldiers, hoping that he would retain the information and find a use for it later. This was turning into quite a pastime. I did extensive research about each one, ordering books from Europe, and holding them in the bright light of the sun so I could look at the pictures, asking Baldwin to read the writing aloud. I could still read if I held the page close to my face, but this strained me. That day we were staging the Second Battle of Adrianople, and I had to enlist the knights from the chess set to properly convey all the horses involved. He liked horses, so he was as interested in this as in any of our somewhat boring activities.
Our battle went late, and he ate with me, looking hungrily at the food on my plate, which was disappearing behind my mask very very slowly.
"Wait, Baldwin, let yourself feel that you've eaten. You don't want to be fat like Guy, do you?"
He shook his head. I smiled under my mask, happy to give Baldwin a poor impression of the man.
After dinner, we concluded the battle quickly, skipping some important bits for the sake of efficiency. I was tired, and tempted to fall into bed in my clothes, but Abul appeared and helped me change. In my dark room, I could barely make out his face. Even in the sunlight, I was having trouble seeing people's faces clearly. What would I do when I was blind? My hands were numb; I couldn't even feel my way around that way. This thought made a lump of fear grow in the pit of my stomach as I crawled in bed. Abul handed me Balian's clothes, which were threadbare and no longer smelled of him, and I curled up in a ball, burying my head in the pillows. What would I do? I would have to have help with absolutely everything. How would I manage?
Just as I pushed these thoughts to the edge of my mind and was falling asleep, I heard Tiberias walk in, his chain mail making all kinds of noise. It was late for this, I thought, listening to him undress. I heard the softer sound of his clothes rustling and falling to the ground, then I heard him cleaning himself up at the wash basin. I hoped he wasn't feeling amorous. I was not up for it. Tiberias had a very active love life, and he'd only come to me one other time since that first night, offering to cheer me up on a particularly bad day. There had been several hangings that day, and Tiberias had described the proceedings in detail while he made love to me, which disgusted me, but seemed to excite him. He told me that men get erections when they are hanged, something I really didn't need to know.
"Baldwin," Tiberias said softly, climbing in bed beside me. I felt him wrap his arms around me and pull me close. "Baldwin," he said again. "Wake up." His voice was different. Higher, purer. Like Balian's voice. I turned to face him, wishing I could see clearly.
"Balian?"
"I told you I'd come back for you."
"Is it you, Balian? Am I dreaming?" I touched his face with the better of my hands; my left hand had taken a turn for the worse recently.
"You're looking at me, aren't you?"
Something in my expression must have betrayed me, because he held me closer, kissing my neck. "You can't see me, can you?"
"No," I said, my voice small, muffled by his shoulder.
"Oh, my sweet love, for how long? How long have you been like this?"
"The last few weeks."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I thought you would know, from the letters, that I wasn't able to write."
"I thought it had to do with your hands."
"Oh." I hadn't thought of that.
"Who wrote for you?"
"My nephew." My face brightened. "He likes me better now," I said, smiling. "We reenact battles."
"Yes, I tripped over one of them on my way in."
"Balian," I sighed, tucking my head under his chin. "You're here. You came back for me."
"Did you doubt me?"
"No. Maybe sometimes."
"I will always come for you," he whispered, stroking my neck with his hand. "I love you, I will always come for you. Never doubt me again, Baldwin."
I nodded, breathing in his smell. I was glad he hadn't bathed properly. "You just arrived?"
"Yes."
"Is Sibylla with you?"
"No, she remains in Ibelin. I think she's started an affair with one of my house boys."
"Tart." I sighed. I had been hoping she would come home. I missed our afternoon chats about Guy's penis, and our pity chess sessions. Balian was always good for pity chess, but he lost miserably, spectacularly even, which took some of the sport out of it. "How long will you stay?"
"Two days."
I almost sobbed. I felt tears in my eyes, and I bit my tongue so I didn't cry out. "Stay," I said, when I had composed myself somewhat. "Please stay, Balian, please stay with me, don't leave me-"
"Baldwin, calm yourself. I have to go back. I am needed there."
I shook my head. "I need you more here," I said weakly. It wasn't true; Ibelin needed him. He did have to be there. "Balian, we don't have much time. I'll be blind in another month. I swear it, I see less and less each day."
"Sssh, don't think of that. Don't look ahead."
I had every intention of staying awake; I planned not to sleep a wink the entire time he was with me, but somehow, between his warm hand on my back and his deep, long breaths, I fell asleep. Next thing I knew it was morning, and very bright. Balian had buried his face under a pillow. I had taken my curtains down weeks ago, trying to make the room as bright as possible, so I could see better. I sat up and watched Balian sleep, able to make out the outline of his body, and his mop of black hair. I ran my hand over his hair, then down his spine, resting my palm on his smooth, pale bottom. He made a small sound, burrowing deeper into the pillows. I covered him up again when I felt him shiver.
My nephew came tearing into the room just as Abul arrived with my breakfast tray. "What's the battle today?" he asked, launching himself into bed with me and helping himself to a handful of the fruit on my breakfast tray.
"Give me one of those," I said, pulling my veil back and letting him pop a grape into my mouth. "No battle today." Balian emerged from the pillows and opened one eye, squinting at my nephew. "Baldwin, this is Balian, Baron of Ibelin."
"Hello," Baldwin said politely.
"Hello," Balian replied, his voice scratchy. "Why is it so bright in here?"
"Uncle is going blind, so I took all the curtains down so he can see better." It had been his idea, and he was very proud of himself. "Is he naked, too?"
"Who else have you been sleeping with?" Balian asked, holding the pillow to his face.
"Just, um, Tiberias. The one time."
"Whatever you say." Balian yawned, starting to get out of bed. I put my hand out and stopped him. "No, wait. He doesn't like naked people."
"But I have to take a--"
"Baldwin, why don't you go find your nurse and see if you can go look at the horses today? Doesn't that sound fun?"
"Will you go with me?"
"No, I have to stay here. But you go, and tell me all about it."
He nodded, looking over at Balian apprehensively, and left. Balian found his way to the toilet quickly, walking in a funny, lock-kneed way. "So, how was it with Tiberias?" Balian asked me when he returned. He pulled me close and fed me the fruit that my nephew hadn't consumed.
"Fine," I said vaguely, wondering how to tell him about the silver object in the drawer.
"Just fine?"
"No, it was…good. You know. Good."
"What did he do? He must have been different from me."
"He, ah…he made me something. Had something made."
"I told you it would turn him on. Where is it? Show me."
"It's in the drawer. With the oil."
I held my breath as Balian opened the drawer and pulled the velvet away from it. I'd used it a few times by myself, and in possibly the most embarrassing moment of my relationship with him thus far, I'd asked Abul to have it cleaned for me. I didn't ask him to clean it himself, but any reference to it was unspeakably awkward. He had taken it, wrapped in paper, and murmured "So it is true," before walking off with it.
"It's beautiful," Balian said. I think he was smiling. "How often did you…see him?"
"Only twice."
"Oh." The silver cock made it seem like a committed relationship, I suppose; it was anything but. "What was different? What did he do?"
"He…did…well…I'll…hmm. I’ll show you later?"
"All right," Balian said, examining the base of the dildo closely. "Did you notice this? It has holes, so you could tie it on, I suppose."
I hadn't noticed the holes, and couldn't see them. "I guess they thought I really, you know, wear this around, or something."
"Do you fit inside it? You might be too big for it." Balian pulled my gown up and undid my trousers, pulling them off and teasing me with the scrap of velvet until I was quite hard. He popped the silver cock over my own and smiled. I felt kind of strange and claustrophobic. It felt like it had created some sort of suction inside there, and I was worried my cock would suffocate or burst or something. "What do you think?"
"It's…it feels strange. I don't know if I like it."
"Well, see if you get used to it." He adjusted my clothes so there wasn't any unnecessary skin showing "Did anything else come with it?"
"No, it just came with that velvet. And the paper." I'd kept the paper for some reason, I don't know why. Balian took the paper and went through it thoroughly, sighing when he didn't find a means of attaching it. "Well, no matter, I feel like it's pretty well stuck on without help." I sat up experimentally, and it stayed on, though it felt heavy. Balian laid back in bed and watched me, parting his legs invitingly. I wasn't sure I could manage to push inside him at this angle with this contraption, but I had another idea.
"I want to show you what Tiberias did," I said nervously, hoping Balian wouldn't find this as disgusting as I had. Taking my trousers, I covered his hole with them and bent down, pushing my tongue against his opening.
"Oh, God, yes," was his response, so I figured it was all right. "Oh, please, Baldwin, do that again."
"You've done this before?"
"Of course, I just…you're so sensitive and it being your first time and all…I skipped it."
I went back to my task, tonguing him until the silk was wet and my neck was sore. I pulled away and he reached into the drawer, retrieving the fancy bottle of oil Tiberias had given me. "I can't," I said, shaking my head when he spread out in front of me again. "I don't think it'll stay on like that."
"Lie back," he whispered, pushing me onto my back and straddling me. I watched him oil up the shiny silver surface and part himself with his fingertips, pushing two fingers inside and preparing himself before slowly impaling himself on me. I could see everything quite well; the sun was smack in the middle of the mattress, and Balian was dark against my nightclothes.
"Don't touch my skin," I whispered, nodding as he pulled the sheets up over my thighs.
"Does this feel good?" he asked, taking my hand and folding it around his dripping erection. I could see his hips move over me, and the muscles in his thighs working as he raised and lowered his body. It didn't feel bad, but the metal didn't have much give to it. It was more the idea that I was inside him, really inside him, that excited me. I nodded, pushing my hips up to meet him. He moaned when I did that, so I kept it up, smiling as he tipped his head back and opened his mouth.
"You feel so good," he said, sighing. "At last, I can feel you inside me." I shut my eyes, wishing he really could feel me. My imprisoned cock wished for it too. Balian came with a long, shuddering sigh, sitting in my lap for a moment before lifting himself up and extracting me from the royal dildo. I held my breath as he did so, worried my real cock would twist off with the fake one. It didn't. Balian washed it out at the basin and returned to bed. He bent over me, still out of breath from his own pleasure, and pulled my gown up between my legs so he could put his mouth on me like Tiberias had done.
"Oh, I've missed you," I said, pushing my hips into his tongue, spreading my legs wide as he pulled my clothes away and slowly worked the length of silver inside me.
"This has just been inside me," he whispered, crawling up my body and kissing my cheek. "And now it's inside you, still warm from my body. Do you feel that?"
I nodded, opening my mouth when he pressed his lips to mine through my veil. "I love you," he murmured between kisses. "I love you so much it hurts."
I wasn't able to speak, but I managed a long moan. Balian propped himself up on his elbow and continued kissing me, his warm tongue tracing my lips and sometimes dipping down to my chin and my neck. His arm rubbed against my cock as he fucked me with Tiberias' gift, and it wasn't long before I was so close I was shaking. I spread my legs wider, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him down until he was on top of me, his arm between us. It was one of my most magnificent wet spots yet. Balian cleaned us both up, leaving the silver cock floating obscenely in the wash basin.
He wrapped himself around me and I listened to the sound of his heart, feeling complete for the first time since he had left.
"Your lips," he whispered after a few minutes. "They've changed."
I nodded.
"There's less there, I can’t feel your upper lip anymore."
"I've not improved since you left, if that's what you're asking."
"Are you well, otherwise? Besides your sight, is there anything else wrong?"
"My hands are worse. And my feet." I sighed. "My tailor had to change my gloves. He sewed the fingers together at the bottom so I can fit into them." I made a face behind my bandages. "Soon I'll be wearing mittens."
"And you've lost weight."
I shrugged. "That's neither here nor there."
"You were too thin before."
I pushed my face into his neck, kissing his collarbone and letting my nose rest on his shoulder. "Stay," I whispered into his skin. He didn't hear me. "Please stay," I whispered again, as much to myself as to him. I pulled away, not sure if what I was about to do would make him stay or prompt him to run screaming back to Ibelin, if not France.
I sat in front of him and pulled my veil back, then completely off. He looked up at me, sitting up against the mountain of pillows on my side of the bed and pulling the sheets up around his waist. I silently cursed my bandaged hands as I fumbled around for the start of the cloth that covered my face. At last I found it. My neck was wrapped with a thicker piece of cloth, which I loosened and pulled away before picking up the end of the long bandage that wrapped around my head. I pulled it off, bending my head down so I could reach the back of my skull.
I raised my head slowly, sure that I looked a mess, my wet spot a prominent feature on my gown, my filthy bandages piled beside me on the mattress, and my disfigured face clear as day in the morning light. He looked back at me, his face fuzzy enough that I couldn't see his expression. I shook my head, starting to get up. "I'm sorry," I said, scooting to the edge of the bed. A hand stopped me. He gripped my arm just above my elbow and pulled me back into bed, close to him, until I was sitting in his lap. He reached out to me and I tensed up, relaxing only when his hand stopped an inch from my cheek and hovered over my skin.
"Are you in pain?" he finally asked. "Does it hurt?"
I shook my head, looking down at my lap.
"I can see the handsome man you were," he whispered, his fingers lingering under my right eye.
"Are you frightened of me?" I asked. He shook his head, adding a soft "no" when he remembered I couldn't see.
"I love you," he added, settling his hand on my arm. "It's just skin."
I managed a small smile, which I'm sure looked more like a grimace, but I felt tears rising up from my tight throat. He pulled me close, plucking my trousers from the bedclothes and tucking my head under his chin, pressed against the silk. I could feel his warmth through the fabric. "Just skin," he said again, rubbing my back and letting me cry.
I must have fallen asleep like that, because when I next opened my eyes, I heard my doctor talking to Balian, explaining how he had to take me away and give me my useless skin treatments. Balian seemed reluctant to relinquish me. I felt his arm tighten around my shoulders.
"Let him watch," I said, sitting up and mustering as much dignity as I could.
"Are you sure, my lord?"
"Yes, I'm sure. Let him watch." I pulled my veil over my bare face and followed the doctor outside, waiting for Balian to pull his clothes on and follow us. I'd very sensibly avoided any bright colors for the set of clothes I had made for him in case he ever returned. They'd been sitting on a small stool at the foot of my bed for the past months, probably dusty by now. We made our way to the private room reserved for my foul smelling ordeal, and Balian sat in the corner and watched my clothes and my bandages come off. It was dark in there, and I couldn't see him, but something told me he was upset. His breathing changed, and his posture changed as well. After my doctor looked me over, one of my nurses bathed me, asking me questions about this and that, eventually falling silent. The process took longer than any conversation we could have. "Balian?" I asked, looking at him and not seeing him. "Balian, are you all right?"
"Yes," he said, his voice quite small. I tried my best to focus on him, and I saw that he'd turned away.
"Go," I told him. "Go, Balian."
"No, I'll stay."
"You cannot stand the sight of me. You should go. Go to Ibelin. Go home, just go."
"I didn't want you to see me upset," he said, facing me again.
"I can't see five feet in front of my own face," I snapped, really feeling aggravated at this point. "Go."
"Balian, do you want to learn how to wrap his feet?" my nurse asked, pretending I wasn't there. He nodded, and knelt beside her, watching her bandage my left foot and my leg. He looked up at me before picking up the roll of cloth and bandaging the other leg. His hand lingered on my knee, and I reached out to touch him, grateful when the nurse pulled me away and started wrapping my hands.
"You must be in so much pain," Balian whispered, holding the foot he had wrapped in his lap. He saw me trying to focus on him, and kindly spoke, explaining, "I'm touching your foot, underneath, rubbing back and forth, and I'm holding your ankle."
"I don't feel the pain," I told him, straightening my head so my nurse could wrap my face. I wrinkled my nose at my doctor's latest brilliant plan for my upper lip. The treatments became fouler and fouler as time went by.
"Come here, Balian, so I can show you how to wrap his neck." Balian stood behind my nurse and watched her tuck the bandages into the thicker piece of cloth that covered my neck. "Do you see how I did that?" She pulled my clothes on, buttoning me up and fastening my trousers before putting my mask on and adjusting my veil around the top of it. "There you are, dear," she whispered, patting my back. "Balian, please wait outside for us," she said, and I heard him walk away. She sat in front of me, holding my hands. She was an older woman, one of the few western women in the palace, and she was some sort of nun. She'd founded and managed a few leper colonies, and now I had her all to myself. I had been frightened of her when I first met her, but she was in truth very kind and gentle.
I looked up at her, struggling to make out the features of her plump face.
"You mustn't treat Balian like that," she told me. "He only wants to help you. It's overwhelming, to see everything all at once. He was upset. It wasn't that he couldn't stand the sight of you; he was just upset. He feels badly for you. He wants you to be well. Understand?"
I nodded, feeling fifteen again.
"You're beautiful to him, remember that. And to me."
I nodded again, giving up on finding her face in the darkness.
Balian waited for me outside, running his hands over the cool surface of the mask, shaking his head as he did so. "I was afraid," he whispered, his hands on my shoulders, then around my back, pulling me close. "I didn't know it would be so hard to see you. It looks so painful, your hands, and your feet."
"I cannot feel it, Balian," I said patiently, stroking his hair as he slid down to his knees, holding me around the waist and pushing his cheek into my stomach. "I apologize, for what I said. For telling you to go. You know I don't want you to go."
He nodded. I felt his warm breath penetrate my clothes. I stood like that for a long time, until he pulled away and stood up, taking my hand and walking me back to my bedroom, still bright with morning light. We found a fresh breakfast tray there, and he fed me pieces of fruit in silence, his fingers slipping grapes under the mask and lingering on my lips.
I knew he would leave in only a few days, but for that brief moment, I let myself believe that this would last forever, his fingertips brushing against my lips, the fruit sweet on my tongue, his body warm against my back.