Notes: This was written over a year ago and somehow never got posted here. I suppose I must have not liked it enough or something. Finally watched the director's cut of the movie tonight and remembered this thing floating around. So a year later it makes its debut here. Sadly, upon rereading it, if I changed the names and some aspects of the fic it'd fit in nicely with my Final Fantasy VII arc of ShinRa centric stories. Oh yes, and going to hell on this one. I'm a historical fangirl so to speak, though I don't mind playing in fictious sandboxes from time to time.

Prayer

He remembers that first night, many years ago when his own faith had still held strong, before his reason for believing had been snatched from this world. Baldwin had been met victoriously, earning both the respect of his adversaries and of those within his own kingdom who had seen him unfit to rule. Sir Godfrey of Ibelin had fought alongside the boy, protecting his king and his ideals; ensuring his safe return to Jerusalem. He remembers his pride, and silent relief as he watched from the parapet. Baldwin's laughter as his sister embraced him, and his eyes of blue shining darkly in the flickering torchlight as he at long last stole away into the corridors to retire to his chambers.

He remembers following. Hands catching on the loose silken fabric of Baldwin's robes, halting him. Unable to breath for a moment, as his name slides across his king's lips like the sweetest blessing. And he falls to his knees taking a gloved hand in his own.

'My league, my King,' he breathes, lips brushing silken fingertips, once more pledging his fealty to this boy who holds both his loyalty and his heart.

'Tiberias, arise—' Baldwin murmurs but does not withdraw, light eyes wide when Tiberias lifts his head, and he must remind himself that his king is barely more than a child. A small smile ghosts across Baldwin's shadowed features. 'Come,' is the soft request, and he turns.

Tiberias' finds that his heart is a beat faster as he watches the boy disappear down the corridor. His Baldwin. His beautiful, brilliant Baldwin.

He finds the king at the window, eyes closed as he indulges in the rare sensation of desert breeze. Tiberias takes a moment to memorize the soft lines of Baldwin's face, his long lashes resting against aristocratic cheekbones, the way the gentle breeze ruffles his light hair.

'It's lovely, is it not?'

Tiberias starts slightly, surprised by Baldwin's keen sense—something that would come of great advantage, he notes. But it is something he wishes not to dwell on this night. 'Indeed, my Lord,' he agrees.

'I shall make this city a kingdom of God, Tiberias.'

'I do not doubt it, my Lord. It is a great victory you have won,' he smiles, moving a step closer to his king. 'Saladin respects you very much.'

'And I him,' Baldwin states with a slight nod of his head, hand reaching out as to catch the sliver of moon rising over the horizon. 'I wonder what God's purpose is for me. What he would have me do with the time he has allotted.'

It is easy to forget in that darkness that Baldwin is dying. The disease has yet to show itself but for little signs that he has cleverly learned to conceal. Tiberias knows what lies hiding within the boy, knows that it is stealing away his life, and nothing in all the world can change that.

'Baldwin—'

He turns, meeting Tiberias' gaze, and seeing the sorrow clouded in those eyes, states, 'I have never been happier, Tiberias.' And though he knows that his words cannot alleviate whatever pain this man harbours at the knowledge that he will watch him succumb to his disease, he smiles. 'Whether I die tomorrow, or live to see the walls of this city turn to dust, I know that for a moment I accomplished more than most men ever dare dream of. And if it is all I have, it is enough.'

Closing the distance between them, a gloved hand brushes along Tiberias' face, 'Do not fear what is to come.' His lips feather a soft kiss against the corner of the man's mouth, before withdrawing and taking in the look of bitter longing etched across tired features.

'My only prayer is that I will not live to see a world without you in it. I could not bear it.'

'So sombre, Tiberias,' he murmurs with a laugh, and traces a fingertip along the scar that runs along the side of Tiberias' face. As a child he had often questioned it's origin. Tiberias had always told him elaborate tales on how he had received such a mark, all of which contradicted the former, and though now he once more finds himself curious, a part of him prefers to leave it all to mystery. 'Only God knows what shall come to pass. For we only know of now.'

This time Tiberias initiates the kiss, pulling the delicate form against his own. Baldwin is right, as he often is. They have only now.

Baldwin falls against him as Tiberias guides him away from the window, his lips parting beneath Tiberias' in the sweetest of surrenders. Too long have they played their respectful roles, for what good can come from a knight loving a dying king? But there is no one to answer to save God, and in that moment neither can believe he would fault them for loving.

They part only long enough for Tiberias to lower his king to bed. His eyes seek out Baldwin's in a fleeting moment of question as Baldwin's hand comes between them.

'Tiberias, I would not risk you—'

'Did you not say only God knows what shall come to pass?' Baldwin smiles just barely at the words, and Tiberias' lips press against his pale brow.

He remembers that first night, when there was still hope. He remembers watching all his fears come to pass in the years that followed. Watching Baldwin fade like a falling star, as beautiful and brilliant as surely as he was dying. Remembers Baldwin in those final, fleeting moments, and how he wished God had answered his only prayer.

fin