Hello! I apologize for the terrible lack of updates. I tried to have this second half be similar in writing style to the first portion, but I feel like it's off.
He was a Leper, and she was an Angel.
Lepers should never kiss Angels.
Angels should never kiss Lepers.
That was the unspoken rule.
And it was something the two dear companions silently vowed to themselves to uphold.
The Leper's vow, for the Angel's sake.
The Angel's vow, for the Leper's sake.
'Twas the Leper's desire to keep the Angel free of sin, and thus, his sickly taint.
'Twas the Angel's desire to keep the Leper free of taint, and thus, her inferior stock.
'Tis better that way.
For why would both have reason to doubt?
The Leper, Baldwin, would keep his dear Arella free of his disease.
The Angel, Arella, would keep her dear King free of her lowly class-and thus-her lowly self.
Despite the pair adamantly upholding such vows, the ache was still present.
The ache of desire.
The Leper desired the Angel's virgin lips.
The Angel desired the Leper's lips that were not cold steel.
It was this simple, and earnest, desire that brought Arella to the King's quarters. Despite having aided the healers in simple, trivial tasks away from the actual treatments taking place, the woman dared not to cast her gaze in the direction of her King.
It was an act of both respect, and bashfulness.
Respect for the Leper's privacy, and bashfulness for never seeing a man so declothed before.
It felt wrong for Arella to look upon a man's body.
Wrong for her to even think of such a curiousity.
Wrong for her to look upon a man, and they not be wed.
For surely, only those on matrimony gazed upon the naked skin of one another?
At least, that was what Arella thought.
Yet, here she was, the Angel. And here he was, the Leper. Their bodies barely seperated with nothing but the thin and delicate silk tapestries in between.
It still felt wrong.
Wrong for Arella to look upon her King whilst not in his graceful attire, but instead in bandages soaked in salves. He was not naked, but to the young blonde's innocence and shyness, he may as well have been.
Her oceanic gaze only dared to look upon his lithe form in mere flickers, before losing her courage, the soft flickers of candlelight casting a nigh intimate glow around them. She could see where the bandages did not cover-his piercing eyes rimmed red and his lips.
His lips, and not the cold steel of the mask.
Arella could feel a flush of red hue burn upon her face, embarrassed and bashful as her eyes met his, seperated by the tapestries. It was a gaze she found she could not hold, for the Angel swiftly diverted her gaze, wiping a sweatly palm against her clothes.
Her fleeing gaze was one the Leper noted, for when he spoke, his tone was soft and gentle, apologetic, "I apologize my appearance is undeserving of your eyes, my lady."
It was hearing those words that caused the young woman to attempt to swallow the ball that had formed within her throat, "No, no, I, I apologize. I fear I will disrespect you by having my gaze linger, too long. I would never want to do that. Never to you, my king." Arella replied, voice soft, a mere whisper as she hoped to hide the quiver held within her words.
My lady, and my king.
Words they used to protect one another from crossing that thin line.
No longer did they call one another by name, like they did, before.
Because back then, when they dared the mere thought of claiming one another's lips, the silver mask was always there. Always present.
But now, it was not, and that delicate, thin line they courted and danced upon, was ever thinner.
For why not would the Leper want to protect the Angel from his disease?
Why not would he want to protect her innocent, virgin lips from his gnarled and tainted ones?
For why not would the Angel want to protect the Leper from her stock?
Why not would she want to protect his regal, noble person from her lowly and uneducated self?
A faint, soft exhale, followed by a light chuckle came to Arella's ears, the light, breathless laugh gentle and clear like a trickling stream, "My lady, I assure you...having your eyes linger upon me would be the most fairest of honors...your eyes are so beautiful..."
The young woman felt a heated flush spread upon her cheeks, a tender smile upturning the corners of her mouth, "You do me too much honor, my king..."
My lady, and my king.
Words they used to stop themselves from crossing that thin line they now danced upon.
To try and remind themselves of the boundaries they should never cross.
Two titles to remind themselves-that he was a king who also was a Leper-that she was a servant who also was an Angel.
Two titles to remind them of their place, to make the other seem less human, less personable, less relatable, in such an emotionally vulnerable state.
An intimate state, for Arella had never kissed a man before, just as Baldwin had never kissed a woman before.
Yet, here he was, maskless, and silently yearning for his Angel's virgin lips. A request he dared not voice, for in that desire to caress his gnarled and marred lips with her beautiful own, was shame.
Shame, for even thinking about having his sickened own taint her pure, unkissed lips.
For how was one so sick such as he, so full of sin as he, worthy of such an Angel's grace?
Yet, here she was, nervous and anxious, feeling that ache, that tingle upon her pink hued lips. It was a feeling of desire, of yearning, to have her lips claimed by his own, however marred. But in that desire to have her lips claimed by the Leper, was bashfulness.
Bashfulness and shyness, for she had never kissed a man before. What if she kissed him wrong? What if she was not good at it?
For how was one so clumsy and inexperienced as she, worthy of such a King's grace?
The young blonde's thoughts were broken by the voice of her King, his tone soft and gentle, yet weak and raspy from sickness, "May I have the honor of holding you hand, Arella?"
Baldwin's request was a simple one, and one of boldness and uncertainly.
Arella's oceanic eyes flickered to the young man whose ice born gaze was just beyond the tapestries. The young blonde did not respond right away, for she was not entirely sure how to in her nervousness. Briefly, her gaze fell upon Baldwin's bandaged hand, held silent in offering, awaiting a response. He was trembling.
Perhaps the Leper was just as nervous as the Angel was?
The woman found herself smiling gently, timidly as she once more wiping the sweat from a palm upon her clothing, "Of course, Baldwin."
From the other side of the delicate silks, the Angel swore she could see the Leper smile-if ever so faintly.
Slowly, cautiously did their hands draw ever near, fingertips tenderly pressing against fingertips, divided by medical gauze and delicate silk. Their movements were hesitant, and humble, never pressing in their simple explorations as their fingers caressed against each other, palms gliding together. As their hands molded into one, each tenderly held the other's, and smiled, for they had done what they should not have.
Angels were never meant to touch Lepers, just as Lepers were never meant to touch Angels.
Yet here Leper and Angel were, hands intertwined as one.
Arella's smile grew, as did the flush upon her cheeks. She never realized how large Baldwin's fingers were compared to hers, how they enveloped her more feminine, slender fingers, until now. Tenderly did her smaller ones curl tighter around Baldwins' own, hoping to stop the trembling of his hand.
Leper and Angel remained in silence, each merely tenderly holding the other's hand. It was a moment Arella didn't want to end. She was so proud of herself! She was holding a man's hand! And not just anyone's hand! Her favorite person in the whole world's hand! Leperosy and sin be damned!
The young woman could not cease her smiling. Could not cease the timid-or perhaps ecstatic-red hue that adorned her face. Could not stop looking upon the ill man's face. Could not stop the now rapid and flurried beating of her heart.
Arella felt a cold sweat break over her, her lips trembling in want and need, though she dared not speak. Did not ask. She did not have the courage to.
The only noise the blonde could hear beside her panic stricken heartbeat as the gentle yet raspy breaths of her king.
That is, until, the Leper spoke, voice nigh breathless in relief, "...Thank you..." The young man murmured, blue eyes rimmed red looking upon the Angel, a faint smile gracing him. It was then his gaze fell upon Arella's fingers that were enveloped within his own. She was trembling. Baldwin's wasn't sure who was quivering worse: Arella, or himself.
The young man's ill gaze donned a look of worry, brows furrowing, "Are you well, Arella? You are shaking...You can let go, if you want to."
The Angel merely shook her head, her simple answer coming out more forceful than she desired, before softening, "No...I...I do not want to let go...I like holding your hand..." Arella paused, faultered in her words, tongue gliding across her lips in thought, to try to quell the temptation.
"I..." The Angel's hand within the Leper's hold was quaking in an even stronger fervor, causing Baldwin to tenderly tighten his grip upon her smaller fingers, thumb caressing her skin in slow circles.
The blonde's heart was pounding, her breath becoming ragged. When she spoke, her voice was but a mere whisper, soft and pleading. Yearning. Aching. Desperate, "...Baldwin..." Once more, like before, the Leper's name rolled off of the Angel's tongue.
The Angel yearned for her lips to be claimed by her Leper, and not the cold steel lips of the mask.
The Leper desired the lips of his Angel, to caress his own so tenderly and lovingly against hers.
He was a Leper, and she was an Angel.
Lepers should never kiss Angels.
Angels should never kiss Lepers.
That was the unspoken rule.
And there, within with soft flickering of candle light, the rule was broken as they continued to hold one another, tenderly.
I hope you enjoyed! I missed writing this crappy pairing. I was originally going to add that they kissed through the tapestries, but when I tried to incorporate it, it seemed to me that it messed with the word flow and overall vulnerability and intimacy of the scene. So how it went about is ultimately up to you, since I made it short and sweet rather than going into detail! :)
I have two ideas for one shots, and unfortunately, both with be rather angst filled. Because I love angst. But I feel like these two should at least have some form of happiness going on in their dynamic.
I find Baldwin and Arella's relationship rather unique compares to what I normally write, since the pair are very romantically innocent and chaste. This makes very simple things, such as hand holding, large accomplishments, I think. And then there's this constant battle within themselves of selflessness vs selfishness.
Regardless, thank you for reading and putting up with me. I'll try to get out the other one shots far sooner than I have been.
I have The Leper King on the back burner, mainly because I forgot how to characterize Sibylla, and I quite like exploring Baldwin and Arella's relationship.
