My first fanfic! Comment please! I am giving you a forewarning. I will be working on this slowly. Hopefully, I can upload one chapter per week. However, life may get in the way.
This is not to attack those who love the Sibylla/Balian romance. I would be all for it, if things were done properly and she had waited until her husband died to join Balian through marriage. However, as you know, that is not how it played out.
This is just a note for those who actually are curious about my opinion. I felt that what Balian did with Sibylla was completely out of character. He was supposed to be a good knight and defend the helpless, not start an affair.
Here is a warning for this story. THIS IS NOT FOR SIBYLLA FANS! I never cared for her and still don't. Also, I'm going to be going with her historical character. Did you know that the real Sibylla loved her husband, Guy?
Final warning; THIS IS NOT FOR SIBYLLA FANS!
This is a Protestant Christian story. Do not like, then do not read. Please, no fiery comments from the depths of Hades!
If you notice a problem or contradiction with the historical background, please say something. Since this is counted as a historical movie, I would like to make it so in my fanfic as well.
Enough of my rambling! I do not own the movie or its characters. I only claim my original character, Christine and any other characters that were not in the movie.
The sweet smell of incense filled the room. A breeze blew against the curtains, bringing in the prayer of the Salah. The door opened quietly, revealing a young maid, followed by an elder. They entered, keeping their movements silent.
Their lady was lying in her bed, her red curls covering the many pillows surrounding her. Her head lay to the side, moaning. She slowly allowed her eyes to open. The bright sun caused her to blink.
"Boker Tov," greeted the elder woman, smiling. Her eyes shone brightly, as she made her way to the girl. "You are very late."
The girl's brows furrowed, as she looked towards the balcony. "The sun is rising."
"Indeed. You are very late."
She rolled her eyes, lying back down. "Abigail!"
"No complaining now, my Lady Christine," she corrected, holding up a finger. She pulled the light, silk covers off of her. "The day will fade fast."
"It can stay that way, as long as I do not have to witness it," groaned Christine, her voice muffled in the pillow.
"You have recovered from your fever and now it is time to begin life again."
She sighed, sitting up. "Very well. You win again."
The woman smiled even brighter. "Do I not always?" She gestured to the younger maid. "Aaliyah."
Christine stood, allowing her gown to fall across her ankles. "How is mother?"
Abigail suddenly didn't answer. Sadness filled her face. Her daughter stopped fiddling with the covers, glancing towards her mother. The young girl's eyes widened.
"Abigail," she asked, afraid. "Is mother not feeling better?"
The elder maid slowly sat on the bed. She looked into the face of her young mistress, her eyes sparkling with tears.
"I am sorry, child. I am afraid that she… she is dying."
Christine stepped back, her face filled with horror, shock and grief. Tears were already trickling down the corners of her eyes. She shook her head, before taking off towards the door.
With the speed of lightning, she ran down the hall and into her mother's quarters. Her maids were standing around the bed, their hands together and their heads bowed. The girl ran to the side of the bed and, upon seeing her mother's face, stopped.
The Lady of Kerak lay in bed, sweat pouring down her face in steady streams. Her eyes were shut and her blonde tresses were drenched. She lay with her hands on her abdomen, holding her chain that held the large wedding ring that she called her own.
"Mother," asked Christine.
One of the maids stepped forward, putting a hand on her shoulder. "My lady, you shouldn't-
"It is alright," breathed the girl's mother. She slowly opened her eyes. "Christine?"
She climbed onto the bed, putting her small hands on her mother's arms. "Yes, mother."
"Are you feeling better, dear," she asked, tiredly.
"Yes, mother, much better," she answered, tears pouring down her cheeks.
The woman's gentle, pale hand reached up to catch her daughter's tears. "Why are you crying, dear?"
A sob escaped Christine's little throat. "Abigail says you're dying!"
"Yes," asked Joan, her brows slightly furrowed. "And why is that so troubling?"
The girl's eyes widened. "Mother! You'll be dead and away from me! You can't go, Mother! You can't go!"
"Shh," she hushed, pulling the girl to her chest. "No crying now. No crying." She sighed, tiredly. "Little one, do not be so upset. I will be gone, but I will see you again. Is that not true?"
Christine sniffed, hard. "Yes, but…. Mother, I cannot live without you!"
"You can, dear," she assured. Her eyes closed for a long moment. "You are well cared for by Abigail and the other maids." Her eyes opened. "But you must promise me something, Christine."
She wiped at her tears. "What, Mother?"
"You must promise me that you will always look to God," she breathed. Her talking was starting to slow. "I know that your father is difficult and I know that you are afraid. But, you must trust God to help you."
"But, Mother," she questioned, "what if-
"No, no," she interrupted, shaking her head. "No ifs or buts. God is the one who is Forever and will always be with you. Christine, you must learn this, understand it and meditate on it. Please. Promise me that you will trust in Him and not in a priest, your father… or yourself."
The little girl nodded. "Yes, Mother."
Joan smiled, weakly. A grimace formed, though. Christine sat up, thinking that she hurt her mother.
"Mother?"
Just then, Reynald appeared in the doorway. His red-blonde hair was askew and his armor was not fastened, yet. He practically shoved his way into the room, kneeling down beside Joan.
"Joan," he murmured, afraid.
Christine's eyes widened. Her father was afraid? Reynald de Chatillon was afraid?
The woman rolled her head towards her husband, her movements slow and nearly painful to watch. "Reynald…"
"Hush, now," he murmured, taking her hand. "You're going to be alright. You will see."
She shook her head. "No… I am not… my husband. Forgive me…"
"No, no, no," he pressed, kissing her forehead. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Joan. Nothing, do you understand?"
Christine felt more tears falling from her eyes. Her mother gave a small smile, but then didn't move. Reynald looked down at the hand he held, his eyes growing wide.
"Joan," he whispered, leaning closer to her. A tear fell from his eyes. "Joan?"
The girl noticed that her mother had grown very cold and her eyes wouldn't blink. Christine lay on her mother, sobs escaping her lips. Her father closed his wife's eyes, before getting up and leaving with haste.
\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
The funeral was private, secret and, surprisingly, not conducted by a priest. Instead, it was by a Hospitalar. He was one of Sir Godfrey's men. It surprised Christine that the lord had actually attended the small funeral. He was silent throughout.
Reynald attended, but he did not make his presence known. He stood cloaked behind the few maids. Christine glanced back, when her mother was being placed into the ground. He returned her gaze, but then walked away.
When the funeral finished, Christine started to make her way back to Kerak, but was stopped by Sir Godfrey. He smiled down at her, sadly, and put a hand on her shoulder.
"I am sorry about your mother, my lady," he said. "If there is anything that you shall ever need or desire, remember Ibelin. You are always welcome there."
She nodded, trying to smile. However, she could not seem to. "Thank you, my lord."
Abigail escorted her back to Kerak. For hours, Christine sat in her room, crying. When there were no more tears to shed, she lay on her bed and stare at the ceiling.
"Why did You take her away," she whispered.
Of course, no verbal answer came. The girl closed her eyes and fell asleep.
\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
"Lady Joan was a devout Protestant, my lord," explained the Hospitalar. He leaned back in his seat, while Godfrey looked out over his land. "She was also very kind to the other women, whether they be Catholic, Jew or Muslim."
The lord returned to his table, sitting straight in his seat. "Her daughter is so young."
"It is not the daughter that you are truly concerned about, though, is it?"
He sighed, setting his goblet on the wood. "Reynald hid when the funeral took place. He is already bloodthirsty… but now…"
"Tiberias would feel the same."
"We must keep a watchful eye on him. His wife's death has seemed to have grieved him, if that is even possible."
The Hospitalar nodded. "According to the maids, Lady Joan was well loved by her husband. He allowed her to stay away from the priests and bloodshed… as well as obtain the Bible itself."
Godfrey's brows furrowed. "She had a copy of the Scriptures?"
"No doubt from one of Reynald's resources."
The lord leaned forward. "Where are they now?"
\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
Christine ran a hand over the leather-bound bible, which was old and tattered from travel and time. An inscribed letter was on the front. "J"
"Mother's Bible," she whispered.
Abigail nodded. "She wished me to give it to you, my lady."
The girl lowered her gaze back to the Scriptures. Slowly, her fingers traced out the J over and over again. Her eyes were red from crying and her hair was in disarray. She could cry no more tears, though.
"My lady," began the older woman, tentatively. "I have been a servant to Muslims and Christians alike… and none compared to that of your mother. She was a good mistress… and was one that no man or woman could dare speak against."
Christine only looked at her elder servant. Everything that she said was true. No servant ever spoke against her mother. If anyone did, they were fools.
Abigail soon left, leaving the Lady of Kerak alone.
Silence filled the candle lit room. The breeze blew against the billowing curtains, allowing in even more cool air. Christine wrapped herself in a light blanket, before walking out onto her balcony.
The stars shone brightly that night. The moon was full, spreading its light across the desert. Christine always enjoyed the night, watching the stars glitter. Tonight, she saw even more.
God, she prayed, silently. You took Mother… but she wasn't afraid. She was ready to be with You. Now that she's gone, it will be me that has to take her place. I don't know if I can.
With a maturity that was beyond her years, the girl continued.
Make me the woman that you wish me to be. I give myself to You. I am in Your hands.
Author's Note; Comments, please! This was a long chapter, but do not expect the others to be so long. Like I said before, my life is crazy! Anyways, I would like to hear feedback. Also, does anyone know of a good name for the Hospitaler? I think I have one, but would like to hear others' opinions.