Days did pass, yet the condition of the queen remained veiled in uncertainty. Her skin, once pallid, now did seem to glow with an otherworldly brightness, as though life and death warred within her. She lay as one in a peaceful slumber, her breath steady, yet her eyes would not open to greet the waking world.
Each day, King Baldwin did come to her chamber, his heart heavy with longing. Seated by her bedside, he would speak of the affairs of the court, his everyday life, as though she might yet hear and take solace in his words. His voice was soft, yet the pain in his eyes betrayed the depths of his sorrow.
Often did he clasp her hands, their warmth a small comfort against the fear that did gnaw at him. He would sit thus for hours, his fingers entwined with hers, his gaze fixed upon her face, willing her to wake.