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The White Rose of Jerusalem ~ King Baldwin IV x Reader

Summary: As a young girl, Y/N had the honour of marrying the King of Jerusalem, just before the healers found out of his fatal diagnosis. Though she had the choice of backing down from a fruitless marriage, she remained faithful to the young boy-King who captured her heart.

Note: I know the chance of people knowing this movie are very slim, but I was long fascinated by King Baldwin IV and re-watching this movie for the N-th time only reinforced that notion; And I’m too hyperfixated to study for exams, so I gotta do this.

Note 2: I have two endings in mind, one with a happy ending, which will be the default one, and another, with an angsty, sad one, which I will be writing under a line and a warning. :) Hope you’ll like it!

Note 3: The lyrics from the Angsty Ending come from the song ‘Luthien’s Lament’ by Eurielle, with some words alternated, to fit the story. Hope you like it, and that you will be compelled to check out her fantastic work! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4F3X5CrPn8I

She was just a little girl, not even a decade old, when she was chosen as the most fitting candidate at being the future wife of young lord Baldwin IV, the future King of Jerusalem. A beautiful lad with long locks of gold like a field of wheat shining in the summer sun, and eyes as blue as the celestial azure sky, fair skin, flawless and angelic like that of the most beloved seraphim, and a voice so soft and tender that would put anyone to ease.

Princess Y/N was so nervous - How could she possibly compare to… How could she possibly become good enough to stay around the future King of Jerusalem? Her worries were plaguing her mind so much, that she simply stared at him, with the eyes of a scared fawn, completely forgetting that she was supposed to do a pretty courtesy and speak.

But the boy could see your pretty face as pink as a lovely flower in bloom, from something as silly as nervousness around him; He chivalrously offered his hand for her to take, and he guided her away from the wave of adults they were surrounded by, and outside, to the lush gardens of Jerusalem where there was nobody to bother them. He hummed idly and scanned the place, before abruptly stopping in from of a bush, and cut a single white rose, which he de-thorned and put in her hair. “There, a beautiful flower, for a beautiful lady.” she couldn’t help but cast her eyes down, unable to meet his. “You see, out of all the flowers in the world, I think a white rose fits you best.” he smiled down at her. “Do you know their meaning, My Lady?” Y/N began biting on her bottom lip, whilst her fingers were anxiously fidgeting and picking at one another. “Forgive me for my rudeness, Your Majesty. I did not mean to disrespect you with my silence and awful behaviour.” The young lad tilted his head to the side in confusion, before reaching out to her hands, holding them dearly. “You have not offended me, My Lady. Still, I would like to request you not to harm such beautiful hands. I have never felt anything as delicate as them, not even flower petals.” her timidness was adorable, he noted. “You need naught feel uncomfortable around me, nor abide to such formalities. I would like for you to speak freely - You are soon to be my lovely wife, and I wish for you to become my confidante.” Baldwin could feel her hands tightening their grip slightly on his own. “I am asking again, whether or not you know the symbolism of white roses – May I call you by your name? I wish for you to do the same in return.” “Y-Yes, of course, Your Majesty, you may call me as you wish.” the boy’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Baldwin. My name is Baldwin. Do call me that.” the alarmed look in those gorgeous eyes of hers, that resembled the most precious gems, only made him realise the overly strict upbringing that she had, so afraid to step the wrong way, or do any kind of misdeed, in fear of being punished, or quite possibly, bringing about Armageddon. “I-I could never show such disrespect to the future King of Jerusalem!” the boy let out an amused exhale, before gently raising her chin up to have her look at him. “Y/N. We are going to be married. For you, I will not be the King. I will be your Husband. If the two of us do not trust each other whole-heartedly, then who else can we trust?” Baldwin finally felt a little satisfaction once she finally dared meet his sight, only for her to bow to him deeply, which once again, confused him. “I wish I will one day end up being a person that you can rely on… Baldwin.” the childish smile of glee that the boy held made her heart leap. “I do not know much, but I wish to learn everything. I was limited in everything I was taught, in detriment of becoming the perfect wife and mother, fit for the King of Jerusalem, so much so that I forgot that I am allowed to live for myself.” “Then I will teach you how to live.”

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Kankagari

Aahhha, you asked for more post-Mugen train Rengoku angst? No? Oops--

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Kankagari: The Rengoku family has long had this practice. For the duration of a pregnancy, every seven days the wives will spend two hours gazing at a large flaming torch. This seems to be what causes the men in the family to have flame colored hair.

------

If Shinjuro finds you in here, he’ll kill you.

You slide the shoji behind you as quickly and quietly as possible. You rush across the nearly empty room, bare feet padding across the tatami floor. The room has a quiet and eerie stillness to it, one that hasn’t been disturbed in a long time.

That is, until you.

You rush to the chest at the end of the room to start wreaking havoc.

The chest opens with a pitiful creak. A dust cloud spouts out of the box and you cough, trying to muffle the sound with the sleeve of your kimono.

Before the dust even clears you’re shuffling through the chest.

You would have asked Senjuro’s permission if he was here. But he’s not at the estate right now, and you couldn’t imagine facing Shinjuro with the request. Besides, you need to do this now. Shinobu said you’re two weeks in, so you’ve already missed a week. Maybe, though, if you start now, it will still work…

It feels wrong to be so disrespectful with her things. A beautiful silk obi sash. A scroll wrapped and sealed. A jade hair comb. All carefully placed in the chest, now pushed aside so you can find what you’re looking for.

You are sure, though, that Ruka will understand.

Shinjuro? Not so much–

– and that’s why your heart skips a beat when the shoji slams open behind you.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

You flinch, but don’t turn to him. You’re almost at the bottom of the chest, and you have to find it.

“Don’t you dare disrespect me,” Shinjuro booms, and you hear his heavy footsteps against the mat as he stomps across the room.

But– there! Your hand wraps around the smooth polished glass. And that means– yes! The stake is next to it–

Suddenly Shinjuro is hovering over you. He snatches your wrist with a grip so tight you nearly drop what you’ve been searching for. He yanks you up by your hands, his eyes burning with fury, his hot breath reeking of sake. He opens his mouth to yell, but his breath hitches when his eyes see what you’ve pulled from Ruka’s chest.

A torch in one hand. An hourglass in the other.

The rage that had sharpened his features suddenly dulls into confusion.

“What… what are you doing?”

You swallow and stare defiantly back at him.

“I’m pregnant,” you say, your voice firm. It’s the first time you, personally, have incurred Shinjuro’s wrath. But you’re not sorry. You know your husband would have understood, too. “The child is Kyojuro’s.”

Shinjuro’s grip around your wrists loosens. He blinks.

You take the opportunity to jerk your arms free of his grasp. Your cheeks are burning– you are being so disrespectful right now.

But you need to do this. You’d never forgive yourself if you ruined the Kankagari.

It’s… it’s something Kyojuro would have wanted you to do, too.

“I need to begin now,” you say as you stride across the room with as much dignity as you can muster. “Ms. Shinobu said I am already two weeks in. I cannot risk losing another week.”

You leave the room and turn the corner around the shoji. As far as you can tell, Shinjuro hasn’t moved from the chest to follow you.

—

The flames of the torch dance against the walls of the room. Even when you blink, now, the white spots of the fire twirl and spin against the blacks of your eyes.

Out of your peripheral vision you see the sand in the hourglass has almost finished falling.

There’s a knock on the shoji. Senjuro must be home.

You don’t answer. You don’t want anything to risk you taking your eyes off that flame.

Another rap, and a pause. Then you hear the shoji slide open.

“Ah, onēsan, I’m sorry,” Senjuro says. “I saw the flame, and thought maybe you had fallen asleep. I didn’t want it to burn while you slept.”

You smile at the sweet boy. “It’s alright, Senjuro-kun,” you say, again eyeing the last few grains of sand yet to drop to the bottom half of the hourglass. “I’m almost done.”

Senjuro closes the shoji and steps into the room. “What are you doing?” He asks as he sits down beside you, folding his feet under his legs.

“Kyojuro watched your mother do this every seven days before you were born,” you explain. You smile at the thought, but bite back the sting behind your eyes. You’re sure if he was here now, he would be at your side every day, too. “He told me once that he would try to sit with her while she did it, but would often fall asleep instead.”

You hear Senjuro let out a small gasp. “Wait,” he whispers. “That’s… this is the Kankagari, isn’t it?”

Finally, the last grain of sand in the hourglass falls. You fall forward, catching your head in your hands, massaging your eyes. The image of the flame is burned in your head. It doesn’t stop dancing, now, even with your eyes closed.

It’ll be a long pregnancy.

But as you open your eyes and look to Senjuro, your heart is full.

You smile at him, giving him his answer.

The grin that appears on his face is one that would have rivaled even his brother’s. And suddenly he’s tackling you in a bear hug. You catch him in your arms, giggling.

“That’s– that’s amazing! Is it really true?” He says into your neck, and you realize he’s crying.

“Yes,” you nod, squeezing him, “Shinobu confirmed it this morning. That’s why I rushed home, to begin the ritual.”

Just as quickly as he’s tackled you, he scrambles away from you. “Oh! I’m so sorry,” he shakes his head and bends down, looking at your stomach. “Is– are you okay? I hope I didn’t hurt him– it– you!”

You answer by tackling him back in another hug.

“You’ll be an uncle, Senjuro.”

He laughs and hesitantly hugs you back, scared to hurt you and his brother’s child.

You wipe your own tears as you squeeze him tighter.

–

“That’s odd– it smells like someone’s cooking.”

You nod in agreement. You and Senjuro walk through the halls of the Rengoku estate, following the smell. Usually it’s you who prepares the food— so it’s strange that the smell of salt is wafting through the air.

So strange, in fact, that you and Senjuro can hardly believe your eyes when you slide open the shoji to the dining room and there’s a whole spread of food lined on the table.

“I– what– who–?” Senjuro can’t find the words. You can’t even find any.

Because, what’s more, it’s salt grilled bream and sweet potatoes on the table. Kyo’s favorite.

You’re so shocked by the spread that you don’t even notice Shinjuro entering the other side of the room until he sets down another platter of sweet potatoes on the table with a clank.

Neither you nor Senjuro know what to say. Shinjuro sits, pouring himself a glass of sake. You and your little brother-in-law can only stand in the doorway, mouth agape.

The room is silent, save for the sound of the evening bugs outside as they start to sing for the night.

“Senjuro” Shinjuro finally says after a sip of sake.

He straightens. “Yes father?”

“Have you heard? About the baby?”

Senjuro blinks and looks up to you. Then, he answers hesitantly, not sure how to interpret his own father’s behavior. “Um. Yes, yes I have. Isn’t that such a blessing?”

Shinjuro nods at his son, then at you. Finally, he motions to the food loosely, as if putting together the spread isn’t as big a deal as it is. “You’ll need to eat good meals everyday. For the baby.”

You and Senjuro share looks. After a pause, you both sit down at the table with Shinjuro.

There’s another moment of silence, but then Senjuro smiles and bows his head.

“Itadakimasu, father,” he says. Then, he eyeballs you.

You open your mouth to begin the word of thanks, but the sound gets stuck. Shinjuro sits across from you, his eyes closed as he sips his sake. You bring your hands together to begin the thanks. But it feels wrong.

Senjuro’s puffy eyebrow quirks in confusion at your silence.

Finally you lower yourself to the floor, bending your belly as carefully as you can over your knees, pressing your head into the floor.

“Please forgive me, otousan,” you say. “I was incredibly disrespectful today to the Rengoku family. I should have asked for your permission before taking the things for the Kankagari. Thank you for–”

“Get up,” Shinjuro orders. You’re used to being interrupted by him, so you quickly obey. You feel Senjuro’s hand on your knee under the table– his way of silently supporting you against his rude father.

But the usual apathy in Shinjuro’s eyes is gone, and instead now he looks….softer.

“Kyojuro wouldn’t want you on the floor like that, with the child.”

You bow your head. “Yes. Thank you, otousan.” Then, after a pause, you add, “Itadakimasu.”

The silence that follows is awkward, but again, different from the normal angry silences that follow Shinjuro’s usual bouts of rage.

“Meshiagare,” Shinjuro says, and begins serving the fish.

You and Senjuro begin eating in tow.

It’s not a perfect family dinner.

There’s not much conversation, and when there is, it’s still awkward. The food isn’t necessarily delicious. Shinjuro still drinks far too much sake.

But, you know deep down, somewhere, Kyojuro would be so, incredibly, wonderfully happy at the sight of his family eating together.

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

Author's notes: Thank you for reading! This is kind of a sequel to this, but can be read alone too :3

Itadakimasu: Thanking everything involved in the preparation of a meal

Meshiagare: said by a chef or host to show that the food is ready to eat

Onēsan: big sister, can also be used for sister-in-law as well

Otousan: father, can also be used for father-in-law as well

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