Later that day, while Philippa was deep in conversation with Abu, another scene unfolded in the chamber where Baldwin found himself preoccupied with thoughts of his queen. The room, adorned with gold and old relics that whispered tales of history, became a sanctuary where his emotions could unfurl without the scrutiny of courtly eyes.

Seated by a grand desk, maps and documents scattered before him, Baldwin’s mind was far from the weighty matters that demanded his attention. Instead, it was consumed by the enigma that had woven itself between him and Philippa.

His heart weighed heavy with a mixture of longing and uncertainty, Each day, he wrestled with the decision to stay away from her, a decision driven by both his affection and a sense of duty.

The image of Philippa lingered in his mind, her fiery spirit and assertiveness leaving an indelible mark. Yet, her very qualities also served as a reminder of his own growing affliction, a reality he couldn’t ignore. Fear gripped him, fear of exposing her to the lurking darkness that threatened to consume him.

Baldwin POV :

In those three agonizing days, I found myself trapped in a web of conflicting emotions. My heart yearned for Philippa, Each passing day felt like a weight upon my shoulders, a burden I couldn’t shake off.

I knew what I was doing was for the best. The growing signs of leprosy had taken root, and I couldn’t bear the thought of exposing her to my affliction. She was a vibrant force, a beacon of strength and passion, and he feared that his own ailment would snuff out that light.

Each time she attempted to see me, my heart clenched in a mixture of yearning and hesitation. I knew that every moment we spent together would bring her harm. I know that this could forever change the course of our relationship.

I recalled the day when she knocked on my chamber door, her presence a constant pull on my emotions, I took a deep breath, my fingers gripping the edge of the table. “Tell Her Majesty that I cannot receive her at the moment,” I instructed my servant, my voice steady despite the turmoil within me.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be with her; in fact, it’s the opposite. The desire to hold her, to be with her was an ache that never left me. But the darkness that was beginning to consume me, worrying that she might be inflected by this illness.

The next morning, as I saw her approach the dining hall, a mixture of longing and guilt swirled within me. The urge to join her, to share a meal as we always did, was strong, but so was the fear of her having this illness. So, with a heavy heart, I signaled to my servant, giving him the message to convey to her.

“She has requested your presence, Your Majesty,” he informed me quietly, his expression a mix of understanding and concern.

I nodded, my gaze set on the table in front of me, and said, “Tell her… tell her that I am preoccupied with matters of the kingdom.”

It was a painful choice, one that tore at my heartstrings. I watched her from a distance, her presence a constant reminder of what I was hiding, of the truth I couldn’t bring myself to share. Each time I avoided her, it was as if I was adding another layer to the wall I was building between us.

As the days grew into nights, I found myself sneaking into her room, leaving gifts as a quiet expression of my affection and repentance. I felt a mixture of longing and despair as I watched her sleep each time. I wanted nothing more than to hold her and tell her the truth, but fear kept me from doing so.

I remembered the moment she kissed me beneath the tree, her energy and love surrounding me. It had been a symbol of our bond, a bridge I was now striving to keep. I thought of her strength, her determination, and I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing her pity or sorrow.

So, I continued to evade, to find excuses, to spare her for as long as I could. And as I watched her from a distance, her determination is evident in every attempt to see me. I grappled with the knowledge that my own love might be the cause of the pain I was trying to prevent.

Amidst the solitude of the castle, as I grappled with my own thoughts and the ache of loneliness, a knock on my chamber door brought me back to reality. I straightened in my chair, my gaze shifting to the entrance as Lady Agnes, my mother, entered with a purposeful air about her.

“Mother,” I said, my tone a blend of respect and curiosity, “to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

Mother settled into a chair opposite to mine, her expression a mixture of seriousness and concern. “My dear son, there are pressing matters that require your attention,” she began, her words measured and deliberate. “The welfare of the kingdom hinges upon decisions that cannot be delayed any longer.”

I leaned forward slightly, my eyes fixed on her as I listened intently. The affairs of the kingdom were an unending responsibility, and I always prepared to address any matters that required my guidance.

As we engaged in conversation, Mother shared her insights and concerns, her words carrying the wisdom of her experience. We spoke of alliances and trade agreements, of the delicate balance between the needs of the people and the demands of the court. I listened intently, my mind focused on the intricacies of my role.

As we discussed matters of policy and administration, My mother’s gaze held a calculated edge, as if she were laying the groundwork for something beyond the surface. Tea was served, delicate porcelain cups filled with fragrant brew that seemed to infuse the air with a sense of solemnity.

“Son,” she began again, her voice carrying a hint of deliberation, “you know that your marriage to Philippa has been a topic of discussion among the court.”

My brows furrowed, my mind racing to decipher the meaning behind her words. “What do you mean, Mother?”

Her lips curved into a seemingly gentle smile, a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Archbishop Henry has shared his thoughts with me, concerns that I believe warrant your consideration.”

“And what concerns might those be?” My voice was guarded, my heart already sensing the direction of the conversation.

Mother took a steadying breath, her gaze unwavering. “He suggested that perhaps it’s time to reconsider your marriage to Philippa.”

A sudden chill ran down My spine, a mix of shock and disbelief. “Reconsider… divorce?”

Mother nodded, her expression a mix of careful neutrality. “He believes that the queen’s youth and her… spirited nature might not align with the expectations of our alliances. Perhaps it’s time to explore other options, more suitable matches that would benefit the kingdom.”

My emotions roiled within me, a storm of anger and frustration threatening to break free. “You speak of Philippa as if she’s a mere pawn in a game of politics.”

Lady Agnes’ gaze remained steady, her tone even. “Your Majesty, the stability of the kingdom rests on your decisions. Marital alliances are not to be taken lightly.”

My voice was edged with restrained fury. “And Philippa? Is she to be sacrificed for the sake of alliances?”

Mother regarded me with a cool, composed demeanor, her gaze steady as it met my fiery eyes. “Baldwin, you know as well as I do that the decisions we make as rulers are not always easy. The welfare of the kingdom is paramount, and sometimes sacrifices must be made.”

My jaw tightened, his frustration evident in my clenched fists. “She has already proven her worth. Her dedication to the kingdom, her wisdom in council, her compassion for our people—all of that should count for something.”

Mother’s expression softened slightly, a fleeting trace of maternal concern crossing her features. “I do not dispute her qualities, my son. But we must consider the long-term stability of the kingdom. Our alliances, our standing among other kingdoms—all of that hinges on the decisions we make.”

” She is my Queen!, my wife, and I care for her.” I added

A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaped Lady Agnes as she continued to meet her son’s gaze. “Love is a sentiment that has its place, Baldwin. But it cannot blind us to the realities of the realm. Philippa is a noble and honorable woman, no doubt, but the demands of being a queen extend beyond mere affection.”

My eyes bore into my mother’s, the conflict within me evident. “And if I refuse to consider a divorce? If I choose to stand by Philippa, despite the political implications?”

A mixture of exasperation and disappointment flickered in my mother’s eyes. “You have grown into a man with your own convictions, Baldwin. But remember, I am still your mother, and my guidance is meant to guide you.”

A mixture of frustration and defiance surged within me. “And I remind you, Mother,” I retorted, my tone firm as I met her gaze. “And Philippa is my wife, and I will not entertain discussions that belittle her.”

A heavy silence settled between us, the weight of our differing viewpoints palpable. My frustration and determination clashed with My mother’s pragmatism and concern for the kingdom’s future. In that moment, the complexities of leadership, duty, and personal feelings collided, leaving us both at an impasse.

“You may leave now, Mother,” I said, my voice weary as I turned away, my thoughts a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

Lady Agnes paused, her gaze lingering on before she turned and left the chamber, leaving behind a sense of unresolved tension and the weight of the choices that lay ahead.