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“The young lord of Pirkstein will be coming with me. He’ll come in handy as a hostage if old Hanush tries any tricks.”
As Lord Von Bergow said the words, guards dragged Hans out of the cart over the rest of his companions. Henry briefly reached for him, but ultimately, there was nothing either of them could do, bound as they were. Not to mention the many swords aimed at them. Hans didn’t bother fighting as he was taken towards Von Bergow. He was still in conversation with that Hungarian swine as Hans was made to stand next to their horses. His legs were trembling, and the pain in his back was strong enough to make his knees weak, but he forced himself to stand straight.
“Take the others back to the castle, get any information you can. We need to know what Jobst and the Leipa lords are planning. Don’t spare them.”
Hans’s head snapped up to Von Bergow as his heart lurched. No. No, this wasn’t happening. He couldn’t leave Henry in the hands of Toth. His gaze darted between the two of them, scrambling for something to say, do, anything to stop this.
“And when they sing, send me a message with what you’ve learned.”
“Wait!” Hans snapped. “Wait.”
Both men turned their eyes on him, some surprise on their faces. Hans had been subdued up until that point, his pain taking precedence over futilely trying to escape. But the terror he felt now - as images of Henry’s mutilated corpse flashed unhelpfully before his eyes - made what he’d felt trapped under that roof feel like child’s play.
“He-Henry is Sir Radzig Kobyla’s son,” Hans said to Otto. “You will get a much bigger ransom for him than you will for me, take him too.”
Von Bergow scoffed. “I very much doubt that. He’s a bastard. Besides, it’s not money I’m after.”
“That may be, but he’s his only son. If you want to hold Sir Radzig by the throat, take Henry. We both know who the brains behind the Leipa Lords’s movement is.”
Both Istvan and Von Bergow laughed in his face. Any other time, he’d have bristled. Nobody ever took him seriously. But right now, the only thing he cared about was saving Henry, no matter the cost. Even if he had to risk his reputation by talking ill of his uncle. Hans had already experienced what life felt like without Henry, and he was not keen on repeating it. Those few weeks alone had been the worst of his life. Now that he had tasted the joys of having such a friend, Hans would not give it up.
“My, my, does your dear uncle know what you think of him?” Otto mocked.
“The man can’t even read, Sir Otto,” Hans said. “Trust me on this; if you want to stop them, you need Henry more than me.”
“Say, even if that were true, why would you give us that information so willingly?”
Hans froze. How could he answer that question without revealing too much? Sure, it was reasonable to care for one’s servant up to a certain point. He could also admit that Henry was his friend. But none of that would work in his favor. At best, they’d think he was lying to save Henry. At worst, they’d be feeding them exactly what they needed to hold Hans by the throat. He bit down on the urge to take a deep breath and hoped Henry would see right through his lies.
“Let’s just say I’m not too keen on a king that can’t tear his eyes from a wench’s cunt long enough to give me my proper seat. Hanush should have stepped down years ago already.”
“And yet, you were all too keen to do your uncle’s bidding and join this rabble’s cause.”
“As I’ve just said, Hanush remains my guardian and is in charge of Leipa. One has to consider their moves carefully in such matters.”
Otto tilted his head and pursed his lips. He hummed slightly as he considered Hans’s words. Hans had no idea if he believed any of it, but at the very least, he seemed intrigued. Hans had not been lying too much. He did believe with his whole being Radzig would pay any ransom to keep Henry safe. He just hoped the man and his uncle wouldn’t believe it if his lies got back to them.
“Very well. Consider me curious. Take the bastard with us,” he said louder in the general direction of the guard. “We shall see what comes of this.”
Hans breathed out in relief. Whatever may come, Henry would not be left in Toth’s hands. He wasn’t safe by any means, but Hans reckoned his chances of survival were much higher just by avoiding that. He willed himself not to look behind him, as the skirmish of getting Henry out of the cart reached his ears. Hans bit down a smirk as Istvan snapped his head towards the Trosky lord.
“But, sir-”
Otto let out a long-suffering sigh as he interrupted him with a raised hand. “I do not care for your petty revenge. Stick to that blond hound of yours for your games and do as I say.”
Henry was shoved next to Hans just as Istvan turned a murderous gaze on both of them. Hans glared back until guards took them towards a different cart. They were unceremoniously pushed into it, and Hans scrambled to sit properly without landing headfirst into the hay at the bottom. He still tasted metal from the explosion they were in less than an hour ago and feared that if he took the slightest hit, he’d go under.
As soon as Henry was seated next to him, he turned a questioning gaze on Hans. The nobleman couldn’t say anything, not with so close to the guards’ ears. He shook his head imperceptibly, trying to say later. He prayed Henry knew when the blacksmith looked away. Hans couldn’t stand the idea that Henry would think for even one second Hans could support the false king for his own gain. As much as he’d love to think there was no way Henry could believe it, he knew that wasn’t true. Hans was petulant and self-serving often enough that the possibility was there, as slim as it was.
Above all, Hans hoped he hadn’t fucked everything up again. He had acted rashly. He prayed Zizka and Godwin would be fine, left to their own devices, and served up to Istvan. There was nothing Hans could do or say for them, however. Good god, so much hoping and praying. That’s all he could do.
They started moving, and Hans gulped under Zizka’s hard stare as their carts moved in a different direction. Well, it seemed he had convinced one person at least. He took a shaky breath, wrestling with the knowledge he couldn’t do anything about it. Still staring straight ahead of him, Henry’s leg subtly pressed against Hans’s. At first, Hans thought it was an accident from the jolting of their vehicle, but the pressure increased and was too constant. Hans looked in the opposite direction, towards their driver, as relief flooded through him. Regardless of what Henry thought of his decision, he trusted Hans. He was still with him. Henry was as safe as could be, and that was all that mattered.
As the adrenaline slowly left his body, pain became his companion for the rest of the ride. His lower back was on fire, his ear still rang loudly, and the pain in his skull only got worse with each stray pebble the cart decided to make his acquaintances with. Hans groaned as he closed his eyes and leaned back on the edge of the wood behind him. It made his head jolt painfully, but it helped with his back by allowing him to relax his muscles. Wherever they were going, he hoped they’d be there before too long. His thoughts became slower and muddy as he fell asleep.
When he awoke, the cart was no longer moving, and he found himself sprawled over Henry in a rather undignified manner. Hans had fallen half over his chest, and Henry had folded a knee up to support his weight. It had to be uncomfortable, but of course, noble Henry, always so helpful. Hans sat up so fast, he startled Henry. Hans smiled apologetically, but when he opened his mouth to speak, Henry shook his head. His mouth closed without a sound as he looked around. Guards were standing next to their cart as they waited for Von Bergow to dismount. They had stopped in front of an inn. It was only then that Hans realized the sun had set, and it wouldn’t be long until they would need torches.
Or not, as he seemed the Trosky lord had no intention of riding through the night. Hans wondered briefly if they would be made to sleep in the cart, bound and guarded, but after a few moments, they were being hauled out. Thank god. Hans would have thrown quite the temper if they had tried to make him sleep on hay outside like an animal. He was a nobleman for Christ’s sake. As soon as they passed the threshold of the inn, all eyes snapped towards them. Hans straightened, clinging to his dignity even as he was being hauled, covered in blood, grime, and bound by the wrists.
Von Bergow was nowhere to be seen. They were taken upstairs and into a small room. One of the guards turned around to cut Hans’s rope before he handed him a waterskin.
“The door will be guarded, so don’t try anything stupid.”
Hans’s jaw set, but he was too exhausted to argue. What would be the point anyway? He nodded and watched as the guard left the room, closing the door behind them. Hans sighed before he turned around. He set eyes on Henry and realized that his guard had not untied his hands. Hans rolled his eyes, whilst he set down the water skin on the table and approached to undo the knot.
“What on earth did you do that for?” Henry hissed.
Hans looked up from his struggles with his task and met his eyes. “It was all a lie, Henry. You have to know it was not true.”
“Of course, I know it was a lie, Hans! What I’m asking is why you did that? Zizka and Godwin are probably being tortured as we speak.”
Hans felt relieved and uneasy in equal measures. He looked back down at the knot, still struggling. It was too tight from the obvious strain Henry had put on his wrist. “Zizka and Godwin will have to save themselves. There’s nothing I could have done for them.”
“I should be with them!”
Hans gave up on the rope and raised both his hands. “And what difference would it make?” he snapped. “Tell me, what would getting tortured and killed by that sick fucker do for them exactly?”
Henry dropped his hands back down. “I would have found a way to escape, kill him, and get my sword back!”
“Oh, aye, sure,” Hans said as he rolled his eyes. “I forgot you were invincible. That’s likely to have been the outcome of that, yes, you’re right. Ever so sorry.”
“Well, we’ll never know now, will we? You took the opportunity from me.”
A sound of disbelief left Hans’s throat as he stumbled back. “Excuse me? I was trying to save you!”
“Yes, I feel so saved right now,” Henry said as he lifted his bound wrists.
Hans huffed. “Fine. Think what you will.”
Hans turned his back to Henry and stomped over to the table to grab his waterskin. He was aware he made himself look like a petulant child. He still did it anyway. The cold water soothed Hans’s burning throat. He would have happily emptied it, but he forced himself to stop halfway through. Ungrateful peasant, he thought. He clung to that as he shoved the waterskin into Henry’s bound hand. He even waited for the blacksmith to manage a good grip in his situation. Really, Hans’s generosity knew no end.
He paced the room despite the pain that throbbed in his back with each step, whilst Henry drank. It was a small inn chamber, meant for one person. It only had a small bed, a table, and a chest. It wasn’t fancy by any means, but it looked comfortable. At least, it would have been under different circumstances. Silence stretched until Henry sighed and stepped into Hans’s path.
“Will you please untie me?” he breathed out.
“Now, you want my help?”
Henry rolled his eyes. “Don’t be such a brat.”
“ I’m being a brat?”
“Hans, come on,” he said with a look.
It was only because Henry looked so tired and resigned that Hans stepped forward wordlessly. He tried to loosen the rope once more, and it took longer than he liked to admit before Henry was free. He took a step back as soon as it was done, watching Henry rub his sore wrists. Angry red lines adorned both of them.
“Thank you.”
“Sure,” Hans said.
Out of energy, Hans retreated and sat heavily on the bed, rubbing his face with both hands. He wanted to sleep for three days. When he dropped his hands back onto his lap, Henry was towering over him.
“I’m sorry, okay? I know your heart was in the right place.”
“My head too, if you know what’s good for you,” Hans muttered.
Henry crouched to be level with him. “I’m trying to apologize, my lord.”
“And I appreciate it.”
Henry tsked as he stood back up, shaking his head. “Are you purposefully trying to be infuriating?”
“Yes,” Hans said deadpan.
Henry froze and then, against all odds, he laughed. The sweet sound thawed Hans’s chest. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he watched his squire sit next to him. Thank god.
“Fucking hell, Hans,” Henry said with a fond shake of his head.
His smile growing, he playfully shoved his shoulder into Henry’s. The pain from that was worth it. All was well again with his friend. Of course, they were still hostages, and their friends and allies were either dead or being tortured, so there was also that. But Hans knew he could face it better with Henry by his side. Surely, without him, he’d have been buried under the weight of the chaos that had occurred over the past two days. It was surreal how much had changed in so little time.
“Anything broken or in need of immediate attention?” Henry asked eventually.
Hans glanced at him. Henry was in a similar state to Hans, covered in grime and dried-up blood. A cut on his temple had bled heavily against the side of his face, but had stopped now.
“No,” Hans said. “You?”
“I’m fine. Though I hope they bring us food soon.”
Hans snorted. Henry’s stomach was an entity of its own. It was miraculous, really, that Henry was always able to make him laugh regardless of circumstances. Hans leaned back against the wall behind him, grimacing as it touched the stone. He closed his eyes. His head was so heavy. Henry said something, but his friend’s voice sounded like it came from underwater. He couldn’t be bothered to open his eyes or ask him to repeat.
He startled at the sound of the door crashing against the wall. He realized eerily that Henry was no longer sitting next to him, but standing in front of him. It was even more surreal when Hans realized he wasn’t sitting anymore either; he was lying down. The guard entered and placed a bowl on the table, a spoon sticking out of it. Another waterskin was placed next to it.
“Dinner, your lordship,” the guard said. He tossed something violently at Henry, who barely managed to catch it against his chest. “Yours.”
Hans glanced at the piece of bread Henry was given and rolled his eyes. It was such a pathetic display of power, it wasn’t even worth sneering at. That guard knew very well who’d have the upper hand in any other situation. The guard was about to leave, but Henry had crossed the rooms in two steps and held him back by the arm.
“Wait, wait. I need supplies for Lord Capon’s injuries. Or a healer.”
Hans frowned. What? His injuries? He was sore and tired, yes, but he didn’t think it was as bad as all that.
“That’s not my pro-”
“It’ll be your problem when you have to tell your lord mine is dead.”
Well, now Hans was getting worried. He hoped Henry was exaggerating for effect. Surely, Hans would know if he was close to death. Hans grimaced as he forced himself to sit up. The cold floor hit his bare feet. When had he lost his shoes?
Hans realized he had missed the rest of the interaction with the guard because Henry was suddenly in front of him and they were alone. Henry looked at him with a worried crease.
“What’s going on?” Hans asked.
“You have a mean bruise, Hans. How are you feeling?”
Hans narrowed his eyes. “How do you know?”
“You practically passed out! Did you think I wasn’t going to check you?”
Hans grumbled as he tried to get up. Henry moved to support his weight, sliding Hans’s arm over his shoulders.
“Didn’t know you were a sawbones.”
Henry chuckled. “I picked up a few tricks,” he said as he held Hans' weight on his way down to the chair at the table. “Eat, my lord.”
Hans looked at the stew and the piece of bread Henry had placed next to the bowl.
“We’re obviously sharing both, Hal.”
“Of course, Hans. Eat for now.”
Hans obeyed, too tired to tell him off about giving him orders. Something in Henry’s tone gave him the impression the blacksmith was not planning to share. The self-sacrificing idiot. He ate slowly, his entire energy placed on not spilling his spoon. The whole ordeal was frankly humiliating. He couldn’t even hold his cutlery properly. When he put his spoon down, Hans had forgotten all about his noble intention of leaving half to Henry. He left most of the food behind because he was simply too tired to continue.
“Alright, let’s get you to bed,” Henry said.
“Am I dying?” Hans asked, his voice sounding slurry to his own ears.
Hans was laid back down on the bed. He was somewhat aware of blankets moving around him.
“Of course not, my lord. Sleep, you’ll feel better soon.”
Hans huffed a weak laugh. “Stop giving me orders.”
Hans had already closed his eyes, so he only heard Henry laugh. “Just as soon as you’re better, birdie, I promise.”
He only managed a smile before he passed out for the third time today.
When Hans opened his eyes once more, it took him several minutes to catch up to his reality. When he did, he still refused to move a muscle. Sunlight was shining brightly through the small slit above the bed, so he knew he would have to soon. But right now, he did not feel pain, and he wasn’t very inclined to wake it. That is, until he realized he couldn’t see Henry. He jolted up, his heart pounding, but relief hit him half a second later when his eyes landed on his squire. He was asleep on the floor, half propped up against the bed, a pillow supporting his neck. Hans grimaced at the ache he had caused his back and skull by moving so quickly.
He continued to grimace as guilt tugged at him. Henry was probably just as injured as him and had slept on the floor. He caught sight of his body and took count of his bruises. Hans could really not recommend being crushed by a roof. Whoever had invented that devil’s contraption deserved a one-way trip to hell. It took a moment for Hans to realize he was in his braies and someone had washed him. How far gone had he been not to wake up for it? Had Henry done that?
Hans looked back down to his squire, and while he was not wearing his armor, he was still dressed but appeared to have been washed as well. Good at least. Hans tossed the blankets and placed his feet on the ground, intending to get up. Dizziness and a pain in his back sharp enough to make him hiss made him rethink that plan, and he sat back down, waiting for it to pass. The shuffling, or maybe Hans’s groans, was enough to wake Henry. He was on his feet in seconds, startling Hans with the speed of it.
“Hans! How are you feeling?”
“Like shit, but much better than yesterday. How are you?”
Henry breathed out a loud exhale, closing his eyes for a second. “I’m fine, I’m fine. You scared me for a second there.”
Hans frowned. “Was it that bad? And good god, did you undress me, Henry?”
His squire chuckled. “Well, I helped. But no, it was the herbswoman. She needed to check you.”
Hans's brows furrowed even deeper. “There was an herbwoman here?”
“Aye,” he drawled. “I guess you were out of it at that point.”
Hans hummed. “Can you help me up?”
Henry shook his head and walked over to the table. “Before you do, she left me this salve for your back. You need to apply it morning and night for the pain and help the healing.”
Henry sat down next to him, unscrewing the jar. Hans didn’t even have time to think through the logistics before Henry leaned him over with a steady hand, and a cold sensation spread over his back. Hans flinched badly as pain thundered with each of his movements.
“Christ, Henry, warn a man, will you?” he hissed.
“Sorry,” he said absentmindedly. He glanced at the door and leaned a little closer as his fingers gentled. “Hans, when we get to our destination, they’ll interrogate us. You need to put your story together,” he whispered close to his ear.
Hans matched his volume. “Didn’t I already?”
“Don’t get me started on the number of ways it doesn’t hold up; I don’t have time to spell it out for you. Think about it on the ride today, aye?”
Rude. But Hans only nodded, his jaw clenched against the pain.
After two more days of travel that looked almost identical to the first, Hans and Henry were shoved into a room at the top of a fortress. Maleshov, they’d heard the guards say to one another. Just like the three previous nights, they “forgot” to untie Henry. As Hans was working on loosening the knot, he hoped they would at least amend their meals now that they had arrived. They kept only bringing one stew and one piece of bread every meal so far. Hans very much doubted that Von Bergow concerned himself with what food was fed to his hostages. Therefore, this must be the guard’s doing. It seemed they were not happy with Henry getting the noble hostage treatment, with him being well, not a noble.
As much as it had annoyed Hans, Henry seemed rather unbothered with it all. He had kept insisting Hans eat first and had been happy to get whatever he left for him. Which was exactly half each time, Hans had made sure of it.
Once Henry was free, Hans took in the room they had been locked in. It was a perfectly normal bedchamber, with a wardrobe, two beds, and a dice table in the center. The window was large and opened normally. Hostage or not, Hans was a nobleman and could not be thrown into a cell. He was thankful for it; he did not want a repeat of the time he had been imprisoned at Trosky. He was glad Henry was thrown in the same room despite his status and not shoved in a cold cell.
Hans did think the chances were high he’d remain with him. He doubted they cared to have two rooms to guard instead of one. Besides, if they believed Hans’s story, he was just as valuable as Hans. Hans dropped onto one of the beds at random, sitting cross-legged on top of the covers, letting his back rest on the wall behind him. He looked over at Henry, who was busy leaning out the window. Probably assessing if they had any chance of escaping this way. It seemed the answer was no because he straightened and turned back towards Hans.
“What now?” he asked.
Hans shrugged. “We wait for Von Bergow, I suppose.”
Henry spent the first two days pacing like a caged animal. It struck Hans as somewhat funny, considering he was the one who hated being indoors. Perhaps Henry shared the feeling, but Hans thought it was more about having nothing to do. His squire was constantly running around helping anyone who laid eyes on him. The poor blacksmith seemed at a complete loss.
Hans tried to help him, and himself at the same time, by trying to distract him. But there was only so much dice one could play. It was impossible to hold a conversation with how restless Henry was. It made Hans dizzy.
By the third day, he started to calm down, and by the fifth, they had settled into somewhat of a routine. They still had limited entertainment, but they had obtained a single book. Hans let Henry practise his skills by reading it aloud to him, each lying on their respective beds. It was hard for Hans to grasp the story that way, but he was content to listen to Henry’s voice.
On the sixth day, the guards shoved a Frenchman into their room. Brabant was another hostage and stayed in the room next to them. Hans was confused why they would bother sending him in, but Brabant had apparently been a hostage for very long, and so the guards probably wanted to kill two birds with one stone. It was bad business if your hostage went crazy during his stay due to a lack of social interactions.
Hans didn’t dislike him, but his stories and non-stop chatter were quickly tiring. It was clear they were all embellished past anything reasonably feasible, and Hans preferred listening to Henry read a book if he was going to listen to tales. Still, he stayed polite. But he was grateful when the guards brought him back to his room around dinner time. Henry liked him even less, as he told Hans when they were alone. He couldn’t follow half the stories with how much French Brabant mixed into his speech. Hans hadn’t realized, but then again, he was fluent in French.
It wasn’t until day eight that Von Bergow finally paid them a visit. He sat at the dice table with two guards standing behind him. It was entirely unnecessary. What would they do? They were unarmed and kept in a tower with a full garrison outside the door. But perhaps Von Bergow was right to be cautious of Henry. Hans didn’t fool himself into thinking the show of force was for him as he leaned back into the chair opposing the Trosky lord. Henry stood next to Hans, close enough that Hans’s arm constantly brushed his side with every move. He supposed Henry was doing it on purpose, standing ready to react to any threat.
“Where are Jobst and Liechtenstein?” Otto asked without any further preamble.
Hans frowned. “How would I know?”
“What were they doing in Rattay and what do they have planned?” Von Bergow continued, ignoring Hans’s response.
“I'm afraid you're asking the wrong person. Nobody takes me seriously or tells me a thing. I don't know. If I did, I would tell you.”
Von Bergow sighed. “Sir Hans, let's not pretend I believed your story for even one second. I admit I was rather curious why you were so keen on saving the bastard,” he said, throwing a dismissive gesture towards Henry. “I figured there was some truth in his value to Radzig. But I don't have time for games anymore. Where are Jobst and Liechtenstein?”
Hans kept a neutral face. He and Henry had talked this over a million times since they had arrived. They both knew the story wouldn’t hold up - if it ever had. What mattered was that Henry was here and not in Istvan’s hands. If worst came to worst, at least Hans would rather an indifferent executioner than that swine.
“You know how it is,” Hans drawled, feigning indifference. “It's so hard finding good and loyal servants nowadays.”
“As I've said, I no longer have time to be intrigued or amused by this. Toth has failed in his task. Your little friends are refusing to sing. If you don’t talk, trust me when I say my executioner will get what we need out of Henry.”
Dread settled into Hans’s stomach. He didn’t know how to approach this. He genuinely did not know where Jobst or Liechtenstein were. Did Henry even know himself? Probably. But it had not been shared with Hans. Faced with Hans’s silence, Von Bergow leaned forwards.
“You’re the one who put him into my hands, Capon. Don’t waste my time pretending you don’t care. If you didn’t, he wouldn’t be here.”
Under the table, Hans clenched his hand into a fist, directing all his energy into that one gesture. He was dying to look at Henry and judge his reaction, but doing so would only give away more than he already had. He had to remain calm. But Hans truly didn’t have any options but to tell the truth.
“I’m not playing coy, Sir Otto,” he said slowly. “I truly do not know.”
Von Bergow leaned back once more, narrowing his eyes on Hans. “Why were they in Rattay? What are they planning?”
“No more than you already know! They were there to discuss the unrest in the country. That resulted in the letter we delivered to you. That’s it. If anything else was planned, I was not made privy to it.”
Von Bergow studied him a moment, and Hans resisted the urge to shift around in his chair. The Trosky lord’s eyes glided up to Henry, and that made Hans even more uncomfortable.
“What about you, Henry?”
“I don’t know a thing,” he spat.
“Don’t make it harder than it needs to be. Where are Jobst and Liechtenstein?”
“I don’t know.”
Von Bergow stood up, and Hans followed the move instinctively. Otto turned towards his guard.
“Take him down.”
Von Bergow walked out without so much as another glance. Hans’s throat closed up as he realized what was happening. He grabbed at Henry’s arm and pulled him backwards whilst the guards approached.
“Tell them. Don’t resist, Hal, tell them everything,” Hans blurted out as quickly as he could.
Hans knew he could not stop them and was only delaying the inevitable by pulling Henry back. But he couldn’t help the instinct. Henry briefly squeezed Hans’s hand as he removed it from his arm. Their eyes met, and Hans blinked. Henry wasn’t scared. Not even slightly, he just looked sad. Hans couldn’t make sense of it and was not given any time to do so.
“I can’t,” Henry said.
The two guards grabbed Henry’s arms, and neither he nor Hans tried to resist as they started to guide him out of the room.
“Henry, please!” Hans yelled after him.
Hans never got a reply. The door slammed shut behind them, and he listened to the lock turn, his stomach churning. He had done this. Hans had set out with the best of intentions and once again, fucked everything up.
The next two days were absolute hell. Hans spent his entire time pacing like a caged animal. At some point, they had thrown Brabant with him, which the nobleman barely registered. He ignored him so royally, the Frenchman had given up on making conversation and spent all his time on Henry’s bed reading books.
The fact that they were not returning Brabant to his own room at night worsened Hans’s panic. Was Henry dead? How could he not have been scared? Why had it already been so long? Surely, torture was only a matter of minutes. When they had been made to torture that man in Trosky, Henry had gotten everything they wanted to know in under twenty minutes, and he had not even laid hands on the man. Another sign that he was way too competent to just be Hans’s squire. He probably knew ten times more about this war than Hans did, and he wasn’t even a Lord. Still, given the opportunity, Hans would selfishly keep Henry at his side for as long as he could. If he was still alive. Hans groaned pathetically each time the image of Henry’s battered corpse forced itself back into his mind.
No matter how much he pestered the servants, the guards, or how much he pounded on the door, nobody would give him any information. Hans had even taken to biting down his own nails to expend his nervous energy. He’d received too many scoldings for doing so as a child. It was not respectable. Still, there were times when Hans simply couldn’t help himself.
By the third day, Hans was sitting on his bed, trying to bite his nail. But at this point, all ten of them were chewed down to the skin. They had finally taken Brabant back to his room the night prior. Hope had sprung through Hans only to die down slowly each hour he still did not have any news of Henry.
Hans looked up when he heard footsteps outside the room. The door opened and he jumped to his feet. Before he could take a single step, a guard had entered and was pointing his sword at him.
“Sit down,” he snarled.
Hans hesitated. He should yell, be outraged at a guard daring to threaten a nobleman, but he sat back down on the bed wordlessly. All he cared about was hearing of Henry. The guard looked back at the corridor, and Hans’s vision went blurry as he tried to make sense of the sight in front of him. Two more guards entered, dragging a bloodied mass behind them. It was dropped at his feet with a sickening thud, and only when Henry looked up and met his eyes did Hans finally make sense of what he was looking at. He barely registered the door locking behind the guards. All he could do was gape at his best friend. Or what was left of him.
Henry whimpered as his bloodied hand landed on Hans’s knee, and he dragged himself up towards him until his face landed on Hans’s legs. He whined and gave up on moving any further, nestling his face onto Hans’s lap.
And Hans stared numbly. His best friend was bleeding out, reaching for him, and he just sat frozen, gaping at him. Yet another moment to add to his list of failures later on. The sharp reminder of the role he had played in this finally snapped him out of his stupor, and he moved to stand and help him up or check his injuries, something, anything . Maybe run to the door and beg anyone for help. He’d beg a knacker if it’d help.
“No!” Henry whined, and his grip tightened. “No, don’t go, please.”
“Henry, y-you need hel-”
“Please,” he whimpered again. “Please.”
Unable to resist his heartbreaking pleas, Hans sank back onto the bed. His hands hovered over Henry, aching to give him at least some comfort, but he was so hurt everywhere. He didn’t know where to touch. In the end, he reached for his hair and raked his fingers through it in a soothing motion, over and over again. Copper and sweat filled Hans’s nose, and a sob caught in his throat as he realized Henry had bled so much, he could smell it.
“Henry, I…” He choked on his words as he fought back tears. “Jesus, Hal, w-”
His voice cracked, and he gave up on his sentence. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say anyway. What could he say? His heart was breaking at the seams, getting stabbed all over again from each whine, and none of it would help. Nothing he could say would help Henry.
“I’m sorry,” Henry breathed. “I told them, I’m sorry…”
A rush of aching need ran through Hans, a desperate urge to ease Henry’s suffering tugging at him. And by all the gods, he should not be apologizing. “I bloody well hope so,” he snarled, his thumb brushing his temple gently. “I only wish you had done it sooner.”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated.
“Stop. Fuck, Hal, I don’t care what you told them.”
“Everything,” he mumbled. “I told them everything.”
Hans took a deep breath and didn’t try to talk again. It was clear Henry was not listening. His eyes closed as his body slowly started to sag against Hans. This time, Hans did not let Henry’s whimpers stop him, and he stood, catching him in the process. He pulled him onto the bed with great difficulty. Henry was heavy and not of any help, not to mention Hans didn’t know where to touch without hurting him. When he finally laid Henry down over the blankets, he looked over his battered body with shaking hands.
He was a fucking rainbow of black, blue, purple, red. The sickening colors were streaked all over his body, mixing with the grime and dust of whatever room they had tortured him in. They had not even bothered dressing him, he had been left in his braies. As far as Hans could tell, nothing was broken or permanently damaged. Hans kneeled by the bed and passed another hand through Henry’s hair. Why did Henry try to resist? Why had he not surrendered right away like Hans had told him to do? It didn’t have to come to this, and the end result was the same. They had gotten the information they wanted anyway.
“You stubborn beast,” Hans whispered, voice trembling. “I’ll help you, I promise. Y-you’re okay. It’s going to be okay, Hal.”
Henry’s eyes were fixed on Hans, but were so empty, the nobleman wasn’t sure Henry comprehended any words.
“My sweet, sweet Henry,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss onto his temple.
Hans wasn’t sure who he was trying to comfort anymore. Henry or himself. He breathed out once more and got to work, quickly gathering bandages that were left over from their arrival and clean water. They didn’t have anything else, but he could at least start with that. He meticulously cleaned each cut and bruise as gently as he could, trying to ignore the muffled cries of pain it caused Henry.
It was only when he picked up Henry’s left hand to clean it that he finally noticed it. His pinky’s fingernail had been entirely torn off, his finger no more than bloodied and oozing flesh. Hans couldn’t help it. He swore as he dropped Henry’s hand, stumbling back. He looked away as a strong nausea settled into his stomach, pressing the back of his hand firmly against his mouth. Guilt hit Hans as quickly as the retching had. Henry had to suffer through it, the least Hans could do with his useless noble arse was help him heal it.
It was still oozing profusely, covered in blood, and Hans was hesitant to touch it. He had broken a nail a quarter through before, and that had already been a searing pain as it was. He could not even conceive the type of hurt this must be causing Henry. Fighting his own nausea, he started by letting clear water run over the injury to clear the excess blood. His best friend’s gurgled cries made Hans bite his inner cheek hard enough to taste iron.
He’d have to bandage it. He couldn’t leave it like that, open to infection. For now, water and a clean bandage would have to do until he could beg for a healer with the next person that walked through that door. He glanced at Henry’s white and tear-stained face and regretted it instantly. He almost lost his nerve, knowing just how much worse Hans was about to make it whilst Henry already looked so wretched. He looked back down and took a deep breath to still his shaking hands - not that it was successful by any means. They were shaking as badly as Henry’s finger was. Counting down in his head before starting, he wrapped the bandage tightly around the injury as quickly as he could.
He suppressed a gag at the sound of wet flesh squelching under the pressure of the bandage. The scream that tore out of Henry’s throat was nothing but pure agony. It reverberated through Hans’s entire being.
“I k-know, Hal,” he choked. “I’m sorry, I-I’m sorry, just a moment longer.”
Henry’s voice died slowly as he passed out. Good, Hans thought as he wiped his own tears, sitting back on his heels. Better that than the horrid pain. Hans wiped his hands on his hose, but no matter how roughly he wiped, they remained red with blood. Henry’s scream was still ringing in his ears as clear as if it had never stopped. He stared at his hands, and another gag ran through him. He rushed to his feet and barely made it to a bowl before he vomited the entire contents of his stomach.
Breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his forehead, Hans leaned back until he was sitting on his arse. It was all his fault. Henry was suffering because of him. Hans had never hated the color of his blood more than in this moment. He felt that hatred with such force, his muscles tensed with the urge to claw at his own veins and rid himself of it. It was strong enough that he nearly caved. He would have if not for the sobs overtaking the rest of his emotions. He still could not stop hearing Henry’s screams. He kicked pathetically at the floor as he allowed the tears to overwhelm him, hoping his own sounds would silence Henry’s voice. It didn’t.
Hans spent hours holding Henry’s uninjured hands, sitting on the side of the bed, waiting for anything to happen. For Henry to wake up, or someone coming in. He’d cried all his tears a long time ago and now just stayed still, drained, the skin around his eyes tight and burning, his mouth dry. He couldn’t leave Henry’s side, not even to grab water. Not for himself.
When he finally heard footsteps approach their door, Hans was on his feet in an instant. The maid entered the room holding a tray, her keys ringing at her hip. Hans rushed towards her, making her flinch hard enough to nearly drop her tray.
“Please,” Hans begged. His voice croaked from the lack of use. “We need a healer. Please, help.”
He was not above begging anymore. Not even to a servant. It’d shocked her enough to freeze, door still open behind her. Hans briefly entertained pushing her and running through it, but that wouldn't help Henry. Guards would catch him quickly enough, and that would not get a healer in this room. Her wide eyes glanced past him to Henry's unmoving form. It’d been hours, but Henry was still white as a sheet. Her lips thinned, but none of the despair Hans had been feeling appeared on her face. She simply resumed her walk to the table and put down the tray with their dinner.
Hans grabbed her arm as she turned back towards the door. “Please, you can’t leave him like this. He’ll die! I need a healer.”
Sympathy flashed through her eyes. She quickly glanced at the door. “I’ll try,” she whispered.
Then she ripped her arm out of Hans’s grip and left the room. The urge to run to the door and pound and scream came and went. It wouldn’t help. Instead, he turned back to Henry and tried to wake him so he could make him drink and eat. What else could he do?
It took three days for Henry to become coherent again. They eventually did send a healer after much begging. Hans had been nothing but meticulous in following the treatment he had left him with. It was just pain salves for his bruising and something to stave off infection on his finger and numerous cuts. Still, Henry had slowly regained his colors, and no fever had taken root. Hans had desperately clung to every sign of life from Henry. Each time he looked at him instead of through, a brief squeeze of his fingers, a few words.
And each time the room fell silent when there was no more caring to do and Henry was deeply asleep, Hans still heard it. Henry’s screams had imprinted into his brain with more tenacity than a brand seared into flesh. A sharp reminder of the suffering Hans had inflicted on him. He may not have held the tongs, but this was his fault, and make no mistake. He knew better than to try and beg for Henry’s forgiveness. He knew very well the stubborn man would not hold him responsible. Hans couldn’t help the way of the world nor his birth, he’d say. But Hans prayed for the strength to forgive himself each time he kneeled by Henry’s bed, hands clasped together.
It was during such a time that Henry opened his eyes with any real clarity for the first time. Hans did not even notice until he heard his voice. He had his eyes closed and prayed with lessening fervor for Henry’s recovery. Hans froze mid-prayer when he heard him, startled back into the world. Hans reached out with haste, smoothing out his hair.
“Hal,” he whispered. “Thank god.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth did Hans realize that he needed care, not words. Hans jumped to his feet to grab the waterskin and came back to help him drink. He finished the whole waterskin quickly whilst Hans kneeled back next to him.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“It’s-” Henry’s voice cracked, and he cleared his throat before trying again. “It’s not your fault, Hans.”
Hans blinked. If there was ever a time in Hans’s entire life that had left him utterly floored, it would be this one.
“Are you serious?” Hans snapped. “That’s the first fucking thing you tell me? Really? I asked how you were feeling-, Henry, for fucks sake!”
And that arsehole had the gall to smile at him. Apparently, Hans was amusing. Well, that was just great.
“Awful, to be honest,” he murmured. “Were you hurt?”
Hans rolled his eyes but didn’t chastise him again. He shook his head no as he looked over him. Nothing had changed from the last time he had changed his bandages, and he returned his gaze to Henry’s face. The blacksmith's eyes had watered, and he blinked it away.
“I told them everything.”
Hans’s chest tightened, and he reached out again. Brushing a hand through his hair, he leaned over the bed and kissed Henry’s temple before pressing his forehead in the same spot.
“I know, Hal. I know. It’s okay,” he whispered.
“I’m sorry.”
Hans shook his head fervently. “None of that now,” he said. He kissed his hair whilst rubbing his thumb in them. “I don’t care.”
Henry reached for him but froze when he caught sight of his hand. The finger was bandaged, but Hans presumed the movement had hurt. Henry whimpered as he slowly put it back down on the bed. Hans kissed him once more.
“Shh, it’s okay. It’ll heal. The healer said it’ll grow back.”
Henry wordlessly nodded, tickling Hans’s nose with his hair.
“Are you hungry?” Hans asked, his throat closed up.
He stood back up to fetch the food he had kept aside for him. Hans helped him sit up and settled on the side of the bed to slowly hand him apple pieces and cheese, one by one. He wished he had stew or broth, but that most likely wouldn’t come until dinner time. Henry ate quietly for a while.
“What happened to my bed?” Henry finally asked.
Hans was surprised for a moment as he looked over to what was originally Henry’s bed. Oh.
“I moved it so I’d be closer in case…” Hans paused. “In case anything happened to you during the night.”
He had dragged it across the room, and it was now pushed against the wardrobe, about two steps away from the bed they were on now. If it were reasonable, Hans would have moved it against the first bed, but that would have had the servants or guards talking. As it was, nobody had told him a thing, but he had gotten some looks. He didn’t care. Henry was poorly, and this was a perfectly reasonable explanation to sleep closer.
Not that Hans slept all that much, to be honest. More like lying down, staring at Henry, and jumping at every twitch or noise coming from the blacksmith. That’s if you didn’t count already getting up to check for fever three hundred times a night.
Henry smiled sympathetically at him. “I’ll be fine, Hans. Don’t worry.”
“Of course, you will,” Hans huffed. “I’m not worried.”
Henry exhaled a small laugh but did not challenge Hans’s performance. He slid back down onto the pillows.
“I’m tired.”
Hans nodded as he folded up the fabric containing the rest of the food. He reached out and brushed at Henry’s temple softly. “Aye, get some sleep.”
Henry’s eyes fluttered closed as a small smile spread on his lips. Hans’s chest tightened as his pulse quickened. He resisted the urge to lean down to kiss his hair once again and stood back up. He turned his back on Henry and breathed in and out fully, trying to calm his heart. He shoved the food back on the table, and when he turned again, Henry had fallen asleep.
Hans returned to his own bed - Henry’s bed? Whatever. - and let himself gracelessly fall on top of the covers. What was it that made Hans want to touch so much recently? Was it just that he had been injured in his name, and he felt guilty? He did care for Henry, that much was sure. But since when has caring for your friend meant wanting to kiss their hair and hold them close? When, in the large scale of friendship, did the urge to feel his heartbeat against his skin come into play exactly?
Hans stood by the table, tapping his fingernails in an impatient rhythm. He kept his eyes on the two maids who were carrying buckets of hot water into the tub in the corner of their room. Hans knew that staring at them wasn’t going to make them go any faster. But he had requested a bath two days ago, and they were only now getting around to it. Hans suspected the guards knew it was for Henry and were doing this on purpose.
When he had asked the maid, she said it was the first she had heard of the request. Hans trusted her a lot more than any of the guards in this place. Hans was dying for a bath himself. He’d never gone this long without one, and it was truly inhuman that they would not afford him the right to bathe whenever he wanted. He was a nobleman, for Christ’s sake. When he got out of here, Hans would be sure to complain of the horrid conditions he was kept in. He wasn’t sure to whom, really, but someone.
When they were finally done filling the tub, the maids were called back out by the guards. Hans didn’t deign give it even a side-look. He’d care for his squire himself, he’d have dismissed them anyway. Well… Perhaps he would have appreciated the help to get him in the tub, he thought as he looked at Henry lying on the bed. He’d have to make do, he wouldn’t give these arseholes the satisfaction of asking. By god, Hans hoped he’d get the opportunity to wield his sword through this fortress by the end of this.
“Well, in you get,” Hans said as he stood over Henry.
Henry winced before he even tried to move a muscle. This needed to be done, though. Most of his open wounds, save for the nail, had started to scab over. But if he was left festering in filth, he’d soon catch an infection anyway, no matter how many salves Hans coated him in.
“Don’t you want the bath instead, my lord?”
“You stink worse than your Mutt, Henry,” Hans said.
Hans didn’t really mean it, even if it was true enough. They both did. They were only so much a cloth and cold water could do. Hans bent down to slide Henry’s arm around his shoulder and pull him up. Henry’s muffled groan was loud in his ear, making the nobleman wince. Step by step, they got to the tub. Hans contemplated their conundrum for a moment. The edge was about the height of their hips, and Henry could barely walk, much less step over it. Henry grabbed the wood, and Hans helped him half-sit, half-lean on the edge.
“Can you get in from there?” Hans asked.
A slight blush colored Henry’s cheeks as he averted his eyes. “Well, aye but…”
“But what?” He said harsher than he had meant to.
“I’m not sure getting in with those clothes is smart,” he blurted out.
Oh. Right. One must get rid of clothes to bathe. And Henry had a point, considering how dirty the tunic and braies were, half-caked with blood and grime. Hans groaned. He wished he had remembered this part while Henry was still on the bed, it’d have been easier. Hans turned around for a moment, gathering the energy.
“You know, Hal, I never thought there would come a day when you’d be asking me to take off your braies.”
He had meant it as a joke, but just like all his words today, it came out annoyed and abrasive. When he turned back, he realised Henry had somehow stood on his own two feet and was trying to undress himself. Grimacing like hell but doing it alone. Hans stood still for a second, but he couldn’t stand it. He scrambled to catch him by the arm and gently push him back down on the edge of the tub.
“Fuck, Henry! Give me a second, you’re going to hurt yourself, halfwit. I won’t carry you if you fall.”
Henry rolled his eyes. “I’m fine. I can do it-”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Hans interrupted.
“Han-”
“Henry, I am your lord,” Hans snapped. “This is an order, so shut up, stand still, and let me do this.”
Henry flinched. Hans had not used the lord title over him in a while. Not since their fight back in Troskowitz. Guilt tried to push at Hans’s conscience, but he didn’t have any room to let it in. He didn’t apologize, not for his words, nor for the harshness of his tone. Hans clung to the nobleman's excuse as the reason he didn’t want to do this throughout the whole proceedings.
Hans had seen Henry naked more times than he could count. So, he was very normal when he removed his braies. He didn’t blush, didn’t avert his eyes more than politeness required. He didn’t throw the garment out on the floor as if it had burned him. He stood back up, staring at the next task. Getting him in. He wanted to cry. He was so tired.
Hans took a deep breath and, wordlessly, placed Henry’s arm around his shoulders once more to support his weight. With much effort, a lot of complaints from both of them, and so much water splashed his way, Hans had practically taken a bath already. But they managed to settle him into the clean, hot water. Breathless, Hans leaned over the edge, his arms trembling and threatening to give out any second.
“How much do you eat?” Hans muttered.
When Hans looked up, Henry was staring at him, his head tilted to the side, eyes wide open. God sometimes, only sometimes, he could see why people kept referring to him as his pup. Hans had always hated it, he thought that was too degrading for a person in his service. But he had to admit, those eyes.
“When’s the last time you slept?”
Hans rolled his eyes as he straightened. “Last night, you dolt.”
Hans turned in search of the soap and found it left on the table. He snatched it and returned to the edge of the tub, sliding behind Henry. He took a deep breath as he started by making water run through his best friend’s hair.
“No, you didn’t. You were awake each time I woke up.”
“Henry,” Hans started, a sigh in his voice.
Henry wrenched himself from Hans’s hands in his hair. A yelp tore out his throat as he did, but he still turned around and looked straight into Hans’s eyes.
“Stop biting my head off, Hans. It’s not fair.”
No, it wasn’t. But if Hans didn’t, he’d crumble to the floor. If he did, he wouldn’t be getting back up for a long time. His muscles were heavier than lead, and Hans considered the logistics of letting himself. Letting the exhaustion take him to the floor and just stay there. But if he did, Henry’d be left alone. He couldn’t. He shook his head off and walked around the tub to the side Henry was now leaning on. Wordlessly, he resumed his work of washing his hair.
If he couldn’t speak without snapping at Henry, then he wouldn’t speak. He felt Henry tense under his fingers, heard him open and close his mouth a few times. Eventually, he just gave up and remained silent and still under Hans’s attention. Slowly, Henry relaxed, and soft noises escaped him occasionally. They were almost enough to make Hans smile.
Hans’s shoulders were cramping from how tense his entire body was. But he focused his entire energy on keeping his fingers gentle as he washed the sweat and grime out of Henry’s hair. He used his fingers to comb out the worst of the mats and took way longer than necessary. By the end, he sank to his knees. The second he started going down, his knees buckled, and his weight dragged him all the way to the floor. He winced at the pain that followed and dropped his forehead on the edge of the tub next to Henry.
“I’m sorry,” Hans breathed out, his throat closing on the end of the word.
He didn’t have the energy to say any more and hoped it would be enough. Water rippled, splashing gently against the wood, and Henry’s hand found purchase in Hans’s hair. Droplets rolled down the side of Hans’s face, but he closed his eyes and leaned against the touch. Henry rubbed his thumb back and forth.
“Get in here, will you? You’ll feel better.”
Hans didn’t have it in him to argue, despite knowing he should. With a deep breath, he stood and removed his garments without any further thoughts. When the hot water surrounded his skin, his entire body relaxed instantly. He leaned back on the edge opposite of Henry, his eyes closing before he had even made the decision to do so. Water rippled around him, and for a while, that was all he heard.
Slosh. Slosh. Slosh.
Hans startled and opened his eyes at the feeling of a hand gently shaking him. Henry was inches from him, eyebrows drawn together. His hand was holding Hans’s neck and face, keeping his head out of the water. When had Henry moved? Hans supported his own head once more, straightening and looking around, grogginess making his thoughts slow.
“What-, hum, How long-?”
“A while,” Henry said. “You were about to drown.”
Hans blinked rapidly as he pieced together what had happened. He’d fallen asleep the second he had lain down in the water. Christ almighty. Shaking his head in an attempt to wake up, Hans sat up.
“I appreciate the heroism, Hal, but surely I would have woken up,” he said, as haughty as he could manage.
An amused smile formed on Henry’s lips, and Christ’s wounds, was that a sight for sore eyes.
“I’m sure, but I’m not willing to test the theory, birdie.”
Hans smiled, warmth spreading over his skin despite the cold water around him.
“Well, give me that soap so we can get out of here.”
Henry chuckled and handed the soap over. Hans scrubbed himself raw as quickly as he could before getting out. He felt a lot better, even if tiredness still weighed down his movements. He didn’t feel like a monster anymore, at the very least. Thankfully, the maids had left some clean clothes for Hans, and he was glad to dress in fresh clothing. They hadn’t brought anything for Henry, so the tunic he gave him looked uncomfortably tight around the shoulders. On the plus side, it was a bit of a treat to see the way his biceps stretched the fabric.
Hans shook his head around the stray thought as he helped Henry walk back towards the bed. He paused in front of the one Henry had been sleeping in since he got back, frowning.
“You better take the other one,” he said as he changed directions.
The sheets were caked in blood and worse, and it wouldn’t do to get him back in that. As soon as Henry was situated, he walked to the door to pound on it. It took way too long for a guard to open it. Was no one actually guarding them on this floor?
“We need clean sheets. Send a maid,” Hans ordered.
“I will when I can, my lord.”
“Have you forgotten who you’re talking to? Send a maid now .”
The guard smirked, and Hans’s jaw nearly dropped. What on earth?
“You’re a prisoner.”
“A hostage,” Hans corrected. “I am still your better, and you will send a maid.”
“When I can.”
And on those words, he closed the door in Hans’s face, the key turning a second later. Hans stared at the door, utterly stunned. Did his name mean nothing anymore? First at Trosky, and now even while knowing who he was, this was the treatment he got? Those people better hope they were gone when Hans got out because he would burn the place down.
When Hans finally turned back towards the room, Henry was observing him. They had already had their dinner, so there was no hope of a maid coming in before the morning. Fuck. He dropped onto the nearest chair, his forehead hitting the table in defeat.
“Hans, come here.”
Hans looked up and sighed. He didn’t even question it, he stood, dragged his feet to the bed, and sat down heavily next to Henry.
“Won’t I hurt you?” he asked.
“No, you won’t. You need sleep, come on.”
Hans nodded and lay down on his side, his back to Henry. The blacksmith brought up the blanket over them both, and his hand rubbed Hans’s arm in a soothing motion. Hans noted how he kept his hurt finger out of the way. The thought made Hans jolt back up, propping himself up on his elbow.
“Fuck, your bandage, I-”
“I already did it while you were asleep,” Henry interrupted, pushing Hans back down. “It’s fine, sleep.”
Hans frowned at the thought but didn’t contest it. How could he when Henry’s soft lips melted all his muscles simply by touching his hair? How could he when his arm wrapped around Hans, holding him close? When his voice whispered honey-sweet in his ear, his breath tickling his skin?
“Sweet dreams, birdie. I’ll watch over you, don’t worry.”
Hans sighed contentedly as he chewed on his sausage slowly. Breakfast was the most bearable moment of the day. When they were both groggy with sleep and not fully aware of the fact that, yet again, they would spend their entire day indoors. Well, they had been allowed to go on a couple of horse rides eventually, but it was hardly enough to keep them entertained and not nearly enough fresh air from Hans not to feel cooped up. Guards had gotten mostly bored of refusing orders, and they were now mostly provided with whatever Hans asked for. Most of the time.
Hans caught movement from the corner of his eye and watched dumbfounded as Henry reached over the table and took a tartlet right from his plate. He slowly looked up at the grin of his best friend.
“Did you just…?” he let his voice trail off.
“What?” Henry shrugged as he swallowed it in one bite. “You never eat them.”
“And that gives you the right to take it? Give it back, this instant!”
Henry grimaced. “I mean, I can… I’m not sure you’ll like it, though.”
Hans felt a bit stupid considering that obviously his friend had already swallowed it. He gasped as Henry reached over to steal the second one and swatted his hand away to no avail. Henry seized the tartlet and, despite Hans’s scrambling to get it back, a giggle at the back of his throat, the blacksmith popped it into his mouth.
“You little-,” Hans said, throwing the cloth serving as his napkin right onto Henry’s face.
He used the distraction to steal a sausage from Henry’s plate, biting into it. Henry laughed as he lunged forwards, out of his seat and onto Hans instantly. Hans twisted around in his chair, trying to hide, but the blacksmith’s arms wrapped around him to grip his wrist. In his skirmish to keep the food, laughing so much he could hardly see straight, Hans accidentally dug his finger into a yellowed patch on Henry’s forearm, making him hiss. Hans froze, releasing him right away. Henry took full advantage and leaned forward, biting the sausage right out of Hans’s hand. Hans looked into his victorious smile, inches from him.
“Did you fake that?” he asked, incredulous.
“No. Came in handy though,” Henry laughed as he swallowed.
Still grinning, he pressed a quick kiss on Hans’s temple then retreated. Subconsciously, Hans chased the touch before it disappeared entirely. He turned back, facing the table once more.
“You can finish it,” Henry said casually.
He watched Henry sit back down, the blacksmith’s eyes gleaming back at him. Hans only realized he was still smiling like an idiot once the sausage was gone.
**
Hans had no idea how they had ended up tangled up like that. Only that he was lying on the floor, a pillow under his head, his legs lazily sprawled over Henry’s. Henry was sitting up against the wall as they tossed a rolled-up cloth back and forth. Hans tried to toss it higher up each time for a while until he got tired and simply tossed it up, trusting Henry to both catch it and aim it correctly back at him. Henry sighed softly.
“Do you think Mutt rejoined that pack of wolves?”
Hans’s heart tightened. “I’m certain he’s doing great. That mutt is more resilient than you.”
Henry breathed out in amusement. “I’d still feel better if I knew someone was looking after him.”
“Surely, someone is.”
“Who? The only person who would have thought of my dog is right here,” he said as he flicked Hans’s thigh. And somehow still caught the makeshift ball effortlessly.
Hans smirked. “Presumptuous of you. If I was out there, that dog would be sausages already.”
“Sure, he would.”
Hans caught the ball and dropped his arms down, keeping it in his fist. He turned his gaze on Henry lazily.
“You think I’d miss the opportunity to get rid of the beast?”
“I think you love him just as much as I do,” Henry grinned.
Hans scoffed. “You’re delusional.”
“Is that why I found him in your bed every morning back at Trosky? Because you hate him?”
“Oh, please,” Hans said as he tossed the ball square in Henry’s chest. “Do you think I didn’t see you? You’re the one who sent him there!”
Henry caught the ball and put it down on the floor. His smile died down.
“Aye, I did. I didn’t want you to be alone after… You know.”
Despite the reminder of his near-death experience, the words made Hans feel fuzzy inside. He had known, of course. Henry wouldn’t send his dog to beg at Hans’s door for the fun of it. Still, hearing it out loud was different. He reached over and squeezed Henry’s hand resting on the floor.
“Thank you. It helped,” Hans said. “Though you got me in trouble. The chamberlain was not happy to hear from the maid that a mongrel was sleeping in their silk sheets.”
Henry snorted. “Well now, I’m doubly happy about it.”
“Aye, me too,” Hans laughed.
Henry’s thumb brushed over Hans’s palm back and forth. Hans closed his eyes with a relaxed smile. When they heard the key turn in the lock of their door, Henry let go of his hand, but neither of them bothered to move. Hans only turned his head the other way to see Brabant walking in. He paused, a step inside the room.
“Bah alors, mes amis! What are you doing on the floor?”
Hans shrugged. “Trying for a semblance of stimulation in this hell.”
Hans would have much preferred a nap with Henry’s hand in his than suffering Brabant’s non-stop chatter. But alas. He picked up their makeshift ball and tossed it his way. In his position, he only managed enough force for it to fall at the Frenchman’s feet.
“Care for a game?”
Brabant grimaced before sitting at the table. “Surely, there are more noble ways to spend the time.”
Hans rolled his eyes as he exchanged a glance with Henry.
**
Moonlight spilled into the room as Hans stared blankly ahead of him. His eyes trailed over Henry’s sleeping form, in the bed a few steps away from his. He envied his ability to fall asleep so easily. Hans didn’t normally struggle so much to go under, but recently, he found himself staring into nothingness for hours. Turns out, it’s a lot harder to fall asleep at night when you hardly expend any energy throughout the day.
It did give him the opportunity to stare at Henry unbidden, though. His shiny brown hair, which had gotten longer in their time here, fell messily over his eyes. His blanket had slid off to his hips, spilling halfway onto the floor, giving Hans a premium view of his chest and arm muscles. Even at rest, deep in sleep, he looked so strong, so resilient. He loved that about him. For obvious reasons, but most importantly, it made him feel safe. He ached for those strong arms to wrap around him again and shield Hans. From himself, from the world. He wanted nothing more than to be lost in Henry, nothing other than Henry.
Hans sighed and reminded himself that he was strong, too. He didn’t look it as much. His own muscles were more refined, mostly on his back from so much archery. But he didn’t need Henry to shield him like a cowering maiden. No matter how much he craved it. Was it so wrong? To be capable, but still wanting to be cared for?
Hans’s eyes returned to Henry’s face, tracing the curve of his jaw, his lips with his gaze. His eyelashes looked longer with his eyes closed. He was so beautiful, it made Hans’s heart hurt. It panged painfully each time those goofy eyes looked straight into his own. Each time these pink lips smiled at him.
“Can’t sleep?”
Hans startled. He had been so lost in his musings, he had not noticed the blacksmith had opened his eyes. Hans smiled as he looked into those ocean eyes. He shook his head, the pillow rubbing against his cheek. Hans opened his mouth to explain his theory about energy expenditure.
“You’re pretty,” slipped out of Hans’s mouth instead.
Hans froze. His cheeks burned so instantly, the warmth spreading fiercely to his ears, Hans was sure Henry would be able to see it in the dark. His pulse thundered in his ears.
“Hum, I mean…”
When no explanation came to his mind, he cleared his throat, looking at anywhere but Henry. Silence stretched, and for a brief moment, Hans's hope surged that maybe he had fallen back asleep and not heard him.
“So are you.”
Hans stilled once more. The fire burning inside him did not lessen by any means. He didn’t dare look at Henry, afraid of what he’d find there. A soft ache in his cheeks joined the burning.
“Good night, Hal,” he said, trying to stifle his grin.
Henry exhaled a laugh. “Sweet dreams, my birdie.”
By the gods. Hans turned his back to Henry, facing the wall, his heart pounding. If he couldn’t sleep before, he sure as hell couldn’t now.
**
Hans didn’t know why he had agreed to this. Henry had recovered, save for his finger, but Hans was too conscious of accidentally hurting him. No matter how much Henry played tough, Hans was not fooled. He knew it still hurt like hell. He saw it in every grimace, twitch, and muffled groan.
And so their current “training”, which really was a fancy word for restrained wrestling in the small amount of free space they had in this bedchamber, was very one-sided. It frustrated both of them, as Hans didn’t want to push it and Henry was becoming increasingly annoyed with the lack of challenge.
“Hans, come on.”
“What? I’m giving you my all,” Hans weakly protested.
Henry gave him a look. But instead of replying, he lunged forward and had Hans on his back in less than a few seconds. In his surprise, Hans had tried to defend himself, but in a rather pathetic manner if he was honest with himself. He groaned from the impact of the hardwood floor on his back. His own bruising had completely healed, but he was still sensitive in his lower back.
“Do you still want to stick to that story? Because if so…” Henry teased as he let his voice trail off.
“Hardly fair, Hal. You took me by surprise.”
“You’re still on your back.”
Hans huffed. “Well, I demand a rematch.”
“There he is,” Henry grinned before he stood and extended a hand for Hans to stand.
Hans took it, muttering to himself. Fine. Henry wanted a fight; he’d give him one. He could not let such an affront go unanswered. Hans could not let Henry believe he was so easily beaten. He would never live down the embarrassment. He locked eyes with Henry as he got into position. He still kept his left hand in the back of his mind, but did not hold back anymore, dodging and returning Henry’s blows with just as much force.
It quickly became clear that, despite actually trying, Henry was stronger. The only reason he was still standing was his superior speed, allowing him to evade Henry more often. It was starting to drag on, and Hans was getting tired. He took some distance and circled, searching for a weakness, an advantage, something. Henry grinned as he watched him assess.
“Come on, love. You got this,” Henry said.
Hans froze mid-step and stumbled sideways. Henry caught him, but used the advantage to throw his weight around, and Hans once again landed on his back under the blacksmith. The impact knocked the air out of his lungs, making them burn, but only one thing danced in Hans’s mind. What had he called him?
“Well, you tried,” Henry teased.
“Bu-, I- Hum, You, Th-... What?”
Henry tilted his head, and his teasing smile grew wider. “Did I break your brain, my birdie?” he said with an infuriatingly innocent voice.
Hans didn’t try to speak this time, lest he embarrass himself with more incoherent babbles. He gaped at Henry, butterflies dancing in his stomach, and his wrist burning deliciously under Henry’s grip. Birdie was nothing new but… Christ Almighty.
“I, hum… I need to call it,” Hans said. “My back can’t take another loss.”
Henry winced as he immediately got off Hans. “Oh, sorry. Slipped my mind, are you okay?”
“Aye, it’s fine. Just sore,” he said as he sat up slowly.
He stared at Henry sitting next to him. He wanted to say something, but no words came to Hans. All traces of teasing had left Henry, concern coloring his features now.
“Hans, if I made you uncomfortable…”
“No,” Hans interrupted. Hans took a deep breath for courage, reached for Henry’s hand, and gave it a squeeze. “No, you didn’t. The opposite.”
Hans’s already short breath faltered under the gorgeous smile Henry gave him. Hans ached to kiss it away. Henry squeezed his hand back, and as Hans was debating, the door opened. They quickly let go of each other’s hands and turned to look at the door.
“On the floor again? What are you doing?”
Hans groaned quietly. Of course. Hans could have sworn he heard a similar sound coming from Henry.
“Training,” they answered in unison.
Brabant frowned as the door was locked once more behind him. “You people have such strange ways.”
**
Hans hummed. “I once bedded two wenches at once, uncle told me he was proud of me once, and I have a chest in Rattay where I keep all of my old bows.”
“Hans,” Henry whined. “You’re not supposed to make this sad.”
Sitting at the foot of the bed, Hans swatted at Henry’s ankles.
“My childhood isn’t sad!”
Henry had made himself at home and lay on his back on Hans’s bed, his feet resting on the nobleman’s lap. He glanced back from the ceiling to Hans.
“It is sad, because the bow chest is the true one. It means your uncle never told you that.”
Hans narrowed his eyes at him. “How do you know?”
Henry must be cheating. He had not gotten a single wrong so far, and there was no way he was that perceptive. Hans had thought he would have tricked him with this one because keeping your old bows was more sentimental than what was proper for a nobleman.
“I just know,” he shrugged.
“Fine then. Your turn.”
This is what they were reduced to. They had been locked in this room for at least a month, maybe two? If not more, it was hard to keep track of the days when they were all spent in one room. They still had no plan or ideas to escape. Otto had not been back since that first visit, and they were just… kept here. At this point, Hans was hoping for the ransom after all. He’d rather hear Hanush’s lectures every day than be kept indoors like this any longer.
As it was, this is where they were at. Playing tavern games without the booze that usually made these games worth playing, just to have something to occupy their minds. Though admittedly, it was nice to learn all sorts of new things about Henry. Even if it did seem Henry knew a lot more about Hans than he should.
“I once painted my neighbor’s house with horse dung, I painted a crude sketch of Sigismund on a prized white bull, and I think there’s a silver lining to this situation.”
“What silver lining?” Hans asked automatically.
Henry chuckled. “You have to guess the answer first.”
Hans studied Henry for a moment. He looked at Hans with a pleased little smile, which made Hans think he was trying to trick him. There was no obvious answer to this. He absolutely believed Henry would play those kinds of tricks and was not above getting his hands dirty. He was sure there was at least some truth in all of them. Still, something in his voice…
“The third one,” Hans said.
Henry’s smile grew. “Correct.”
“Well, what happened with the other two and what silver lining?”
Henry raised a finger. “I was going to, but Pa was waiting for me, and he would have killed me,” he raised a second finger. “I got caught by the ranchhand because I was too drunk to be quiet,” a third. “And when’s the last time we got so much bonding time without me being sent away on yet another assignment?”
Hans chuckled and moved to lie down as well. He settled on his side facing Henry, and the blacksmith turned his head to look at him. The bed was pretty small, and his warmth was comfortably pressing against Hans. He loved how cozy it made him feel, similar to a wool tunic when the leaves turned red and the wind turned cold.
“I feel like this is the part you tell me not to get used to it,” Hans said.
Henry furrowed his brows. “Why would I?”
“We’ll be out of here soon enough. I hope. And then I’ll go back to being the noble trophy left behind to keep safe, and you’ll go back to being the hero and everyone’s errand boy.”
Henry tsked. “There’s so much wrong in that sentence, I don’t know where to start. For one, you’re not a trophy.”
“Oh? What am I then?”
“Hans. You’re Hans.”
Henry picked up Hans’s loose hand and pulled it to his chest. He took to absentmindedly playing with Hans’s fingers, picking them up and tracing shapes on them. Seemingly oblivious to the fact that each touch sent a prickling heat up Hans’s arm and punched low in his gut.
“To you, maybe. To everyone else, I’m Lord Capon, there to look pretty and used as a bargaining chip.”
A large smile grew on his best friend’s face as he stared stubbornly at their hands.
“What?” Hans asked, amusement coloring his voice before he even knew what had amused Henry.
“Dunno,” he shrugged. “I like the idea of a version of you that’s mine.”
“Come off it,” Hans said, laughter in his voice as he shoved him.
Or tried to shove him. Henry barely shuffled as he laughed. He reclaimed Hans’s hand and pulled so hard, Hans yelped as he lost his balance and landed half on top of him.
“What? You don’t want to be my Hans?” he teased.
Hans twisted to fix the awkward position his neck had landed in and made himself comfortable, settling his head on the same pillow as Henry’s. The blacksmith intertwined their fingers, and for a moment, Hans felt at home in this horrid place. This should have been strange, or uncomfortable. It felt as natural as breathing. Warmth spread over Hans, and he had to resist the urge to lean forward ever so slightly. If he moved even half an inch, their noses would touch.
He shrugged. “Want or not is irrelevant.”
Hans watched the amusement leave his friend’s eyes.
“What do you mean?” Henry asked.
Hans didn’t try to fight the fond smile that settled on his lips. “I already am, you dolt. There could never be anyone else I care for as I do you.”
Hans wasn’t sure himself in what way he meant that. But it was the truth. He cared for Henry so deeply, the idea that anyone could become more important was simply inconceivable. He didn’t care that he was toying on the line of sin. He didn’t care about what was proper or expected. He didn’t understand the implications of his words, if Henry would only ever be his truest friend, his companion. Or if one day he’d get to taste those lips. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was for Henry to be in his life, for them to belong to each other one way or another. Hans didn’t understand love. But he understood devotion.
Henry’s eyes gleamed as that special smile spread on his face again. That one smile, Hans had noted his friend only ever wore aimed at him. It made his heart flutter and all his muscles melt under the attention. Henry leaned over and pressed a soft kiss on his forehead. Hans closed his eyes under the affection, his pulse quickening even more. He didn’t care to reopen them when Henry nuzzled his hair and settled himself there.
“Aye,” he murmured. “I am, too.”
Hans couldn’t help himself. “You belong to yourself? What a concept.”
Henry’s snort tickled his hair. “I’m yours, you arse.”
Hans’s smile was so big, he feared his cheeks would tear open from how much he was pulling at them. He felt the need to hide it in Henry’s shoulder, even as there was no way Henry could see it from his position. In the silence, Hans was so comfortable, he fell asleep before he knew it.
The key turned in the lock, and both Henry and Hans turned to look at the door from where they were sitting on the bed. Hans was surprised to find that it wasn’t a guard who walked in but a knight he had never seen before. Henry was on his feet in seconds, the book he was holding dropping on the floor unceremoniously. He was holding himself so tense, Hans could see his knuckles turning white just from forming a fist.
Sir Otto followed after him, and the knight took a spot against the wall, pressing himself firmly against the stone. Hans stood up as his attention turned to the Von Bergow, but he noted the complete absence of guards this time. Not at the door and not towering behind Von Bergow in a show of force. Ugly hope rose quicker than Hans cared to admit. Were they getting out of here? Von Bergow sat at the dice table and looked over.
Hans moved to stand next to Henry, but his friend instantly pushed to move Hans a step behind him in a protective manner. Hans glanced sideways at him, but Henry’s full attention was focused on that knight. Confused, but not willing to undermine Henry in front of these people, Hans stayed where he was.
He quickly studied the knight once more. A brief image of Henry laughing with a dark-haired man at the Trosky feast floated in Hans’s mind. Was it the same person? Hans had only focused on the fact that Henry was not noticing his obvious sour mood back then. He hadn’t paid the guests any attention at all. Knowing he couldn't ask now, he returned his attention to Otto.
“Well? Is the ransom on the way?” Hans asked haughtily. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the hospitality, Sir Otto, but I’d like to go home.”
Von Bergow smiled, amused. “I didn’t ask for a ransom.”
What? It had been so long, and he hadn’t even bothered to send a message to his uncle? Did Hanush even know he was still alive? And what of Henry, did they think him dead? Hope withered pitifully, making Hans almost sag under the weight of it dying. They were still stuck here.
“Why am I here then?” he asked after he swallowed down his disappointment.
There would be time to self-pity once that arsehole was gone. Otto gestured for him to take the seat in front of him. Without thinking, he moved to do so, but Henry’s arm shot out in front of him, surprising Hans into a small stumble. He glanced once again at his bodyguard, but he seemingly wasn’t paying attention to Hans. Henry still stared daggers at that knight, not even Sir Otto. What was Hans missing?
“Call off your guard dog, Sir Hans,” Otto said. “I mean you no harm.”
Hans’s jaw clenched. He knew he was meant to tell off Henry for making a show like that in front of another noble. Especially with the lack of an obvious bodily threat. It was highly unlikely he would attack them in this room. Still, Von Bergow had ordered Henry tortured. And there was obviously a missing link with that dark-haired knight still hugging the wall behind Otto. And so, Hans stayed exactly where he was, behind the protective figure of Henry.
“ Henry happens to have a voice and free will. Imagine that.”
And perhaps, a part of him had turned all warm and fuzzy at Henry’s display. That was entirely Hans’s business. Otto let out a long-suffering sigh and leaned back in his chair.
“Suit yourself. I am grateful to you, Sir Hans. Regardless of the reasons you did so, your advice was solid. Henry has proved invaluable in making Radzig particularly pliant. That’s why you’re both here.”
“And how long exactly do you plan on keeping us here?”
Von Bergow shrugged. “Until the end of the war, most likely.”
“But that could take years!” Hans blurted out.
“Aye. Best make yourselves comfortable.”
Hans's knees buckled. No. He couldn’t. Unable to keep standing, Hans moved towards the chair again, this time touching Henry’s arm first to warn him. Henry let him go, walking with Hans to stand next to him. Hans dropped ungracefully onto the chair. Years in between four walls. Years without the sun on his skin anytime he wanted. Hans didn’t think he could face it. But he had to pull himself together for now. He had revealed too many weaknesses already. He straightened and looked back at Otto.
“Well, at the very least, talk to your guards. They have forgotten how to talk to their betters and keep refusing orders. That is no way to treat a nobleman, Sir Otto,” he said, crossing his arms.
Von Bergow glanced back towards his knight.
“I’ll handle it, my lord,” he nodded.
Von Bergow returned his attention to Hans. “There. I don’t wish for your stay to be uncomfortable, Sir Hans.”
Too late for that. Hans bit back a groan. Ugh, years of suffering that Frenchman’s stories. He had the annoying tendency to forget which ones he had already told too.
“As for the reason I’m here today,” Otto continued. “We received word that Sir Hanush and Sir Radzig have left Rattay. We also lost track of Jobst. We need to know where they’re going.”
Hans sighed. “How the hell should I know? If it escaped your notice, I’ve been locked in here for… How long have I been here?”
“A little over two months. And it’s true, but you know where they are likely to meet. Which Lords are still against Sigismund. We need to know what they have planned.”
Hans leaned back in his chair. “It’s hardly my problem, is it?”
“I can make it your problem.” It was particularly unnerving that no emotions punctuated his threats. “What do you think, Henry, do you fancy another stay with Bartosch here?”
Hans froze. He turned his glance towards the knight standing behind Otto. Fire burned through his veins as he made the connection. Henry tensed next to him. Bartosch was a dead man. He never would have expected a knight to do something as lowly as torturing, but he should have. It seemed these rules did not apply in Von Bergow’s domain. He had sent Hans to do the same to a poor sod during his time at Trotsky after all. Hans didn’t care how long it would take or how. That knight had signed his death warrant. Reluctantly, Hans turned his gaze back on Otto.
“I don’t know. I never cared all that much for politics.”
“For your pup’s sake, here, I suggest you try to remember. I only need to return him alive. He doesn't hold the same protections as you for bodily harm.”
Henry didn’t so much as twitch. Hans, on the other hand, seethed. He narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists. Hans wasn’t sure he had ever felt so much anger towards one person before. He hated even more that Henry didn’t even react. Not to being called a dog, nor the threat of further torture. He was still tense, but unmoving. But no matter how angry he was, Hans knew he wasn’t going to win this. Pride be damned, war and allies be damned too; he would not risk Henry being taken again. Hans wouldn’t survive it, much less Henry.
“Probably Talmberg,” Hans said without further preamble.
Otto had the decency not to gloat. “No, they left the region. Presumably they’re on their way somewhere here.”
Hans sighed and racked his brain for a moment. He truly didn’t know that many options. He could remember a few noblemen at that cursed meeting all these months ago. Names he heard in passing. He didn’t have much clarity on them, however.
“Schudol, maybe? Raborsh? I don’t know otherwise.”
Von Bergow nodded as he stood. “Thank you, Sir Hans. If anything else comes to mind, let a guard know you need to see me.”
Hans bit back a laugh. Presumptuous. But the Trosky lord left the room wordlessly. Bartosch finally stopped hugging the wall and took a step forward. Hans shot out of his chair, kicking it backwards out of his way.
“I’m truly sorry, Henry. I hope you know that.”
Henry leaned on Hans ever so slightly. “What was it you said? We all have our loyalties, right?”
Hans resisted the urge to look at Henry. He asked himself once more what he was missing. He hated how calm Henry sounded. Bartosch looked between the two of them for a second before leaning back on his heels.
“Aye,” he sighed. He glanced in the hallway past the threshold of their room before returning his attention to Henry. “Listen, tomorrow morning, Sir Otto, I, and most of the garrison are leaving for Kuttenberg. Sisgismund called a meeting.”
“What’s it to me?” Henry asked.
“Thought you would want to know.”
Bartosch turned his gaze to Hans for a second too long. Henry’s reaction was instant. He moved in front of him again, sending his arm backwards to grip Hans’s. Hans wasn’t sure what to think of this new habit. There was protecting and there was undermining. Still, the message was clear. Above Henry’s shoulder, he watched the knight sigh again.
“Good luck, Henry.”
And he was gone. The key turned in the lock, and Henry stared at it for another few long seconds.
“We need to get out of here,” he breathed.
Hans took his arm out of Henry’s grip and walked a few steps away, trying to arrange his thoughts. Too much information had been learned in too short a time. So when Henry turned around to face him, Hans didn’t mince his words.
“He’s the one who tortured you?”
“No,” Henry said. He took a deep breath as he passed both hands over his face a few times. He didn’t speak again until he dropped both arms back to his side. “He asked the questions.”
“Same fucking difference,” Hans sneered.
“Hans-”
“You knew him before?” Hans interrupted.
Henry’s breath hitched, and pain flashed in his eyes before he averted them to stare at his own feet. Faced with Henry’s suffering, Hans softened. He walked up to Henry, touching his arm in support.
“Aye, we… I met him in Trotsky. We… I didn’t know,” he said. He looked back up at Hans, water gleaming in his eyes. “I didn’t know back then, Hans. I… We… We had a moment.”
Hans tilted his head as he squeezed Henry’s arm. A moment? The words slowly turned in Hans’s mind, tasting more bitter each time they echoed.
“What kind of… moment?” Hans asked carefully.
Henry bit his lip as his eyes flickered over the room. Anywhere but on Hans. The nobleman waited for Henry to collect himself. He knew. He knew the words that were about to leave Henry’s lips. Still, he wanted to hear them from him. Eventually, he brought his eyes back to Hans as a sigh left his lips.
“I slept with him.”
Hans froze. He had known. But nothing could have prepared him for hearing the words out loud. Ugliness rose within Hans, and he bit his inner cheek to swallow it back down. He had no right to feel this way, and much less to bite Henry’s head off because of it. Henry didn’t owe him anything. Many words passed in Hans’s mind, but in the end, only one passed his lips.
“Oh.”
Beyond the first thing that Hans had felt, he also realized that Henry had admitted out loud to sin. He had told Hans he was a sodomite. Trusted him with it. The mixed feelings twirled around in Hans. He didn’t care about the sin part. He did care the sin had not been with someone else.
“Do you love him?” he asked eventually.
“What? Gods no! Hans, how could you even think that?”
Hans frowned. “How could I not? You just said-”
“I don’t take kindly to betrayal,” Henry interrupted. “He betrayed me, and worse, he made me betray you. I can never forgive that.”
Hans was momentarily distracted from the whirlwind of emotions toying with him. “Betray me? How?”
“I literally slept with the enemy,” he said in a tone that said he thought Hans was being stupid.
Hans was quite convinced Henry was the stupid one, however. He flicked his forehead. “You didn’t betray me, you dolt. You didn’t know he worked for Sisgismund. Besides, you don’t owe me anything.”
“Don’t I?” he murmured.
The question disarmed Hans entirely. Did he? Hans hoped he did. He wanted him to. But as it stood, he wasn’t sure.
“I-, hum, I… Well, certainly not back then,” he settled on.
The ghost of a smile appeared on Henry’s lips. Hans breathed out loudly and rushed forward, pulling Henry into a tight embrace by the neck. He wasn’t sure if it was for Henry or himself. His head hurt. Henry pulled him close without a word, his hand brushing Hans’s hair. Hans buried his face into Henry’s neck.
“I… I need to think things through,” he whispered against his skin. “Too much, too fast, with Otto, and…”
“Aye,” Henry whispered back. “Go lie down, birdie.”
Hans nodded and, with a last squeeze, let Henry go to do just that.
Hans opened his eyes to find Drahomira putting their tray on the table. He yawned as he propped himself up. He had not heard her come in and realized as he looked through the window that he had slept the afternoon away. Normally, that would irk him, but what did it matter anymore? He greeted the cook as he took in the room and found Henry sitting up cross-legged on his bed.
“My lord,” she said with a small bow. “Sir Black has given me a message for you. He said that the lady of the house in the chamber below yours keeps interesting weapons.”
Hans frowned as he sat up, throwing his legs over the bed. “Me? Why?”
“He said you were a weapon enthusiast and you might like to ask the guards to show you.”
Hans gaped at Drahomira. That made no sense whatsoever. He had never even talked to the man. Hans was not a weapon enthusiast beyond functionality. And most of all, he doubted very much that the guards would put any sort of weapons into his hands.
“Tough, if you ask me,” she continued. “They’re just common longswords. But what do I know? I’m not an expert.”
“Neither is he,” Henry commented, looking as confused as Hans.
Hans raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh? Did you not just tell me he was a swords expert? Particularly polishing them?”
Henry choked on air as a violent blush spread on his face. A satisfied smile spread on Hans’s lips. There. It was petty, but now he felt slightly better about the whole thing. Drahomira giggled widely, and Hans looked back at her, still standing by the table.
“Apologies, Drahomira. It was inappropriate,” Hans said.
She made a dismissive gesture in the air. “Oh, don’t you worry, my lord. I hear far worse from the guards. They can be right pigs.”
Somehow, that did not reassure Hans. He liked the cook, she had been very kind to them.
“Not towards you, I hope?”
“I can defend myself just fine, my lord. Now, any request for breakfast?”
Hans shook his head no. She bowed quickly.
“Good evening, sirs.”
“Good evening, Drahomira,” Henry and Hans said in unison.
Hans waited until the lock had turned behind her before chancing a glance back towards Henry.
“Is this going to be a problem, Hans?” he asked in a small voice. “Because you know that… You and I… Hum,” his voice trailed off as he fidgeted with his own hands. “I mean,” he tsked and took a sharp inhale of breath. “You’re the only one that matters to me.”
Butterflies danced in Hans’s stomach, making him brave.
“It’s not a problem, darling. Just some petty jealousy I have no right to,” he said with a smile.
“Right or not, I don’t mind,” he said too eagerly. He seemed to catch himself and leaned back before slowing his words. “As long as you know.”
Hans chuckled and was about the stand up, craving to touch him. He was too far. But he froze.
“Wait a minute,” he said, his brows furrowing.
Half the garrison leaving, chamber below yours, good luck, Henry… Hans remembered how odd his position had been. Standing by the wall was normal, but hugging it in such a way for a knight? He was meant to look threatening, not make himself small. Bartosch’s glances and his words echoed in his mind. Oh fuck.
Hans stood abruptly and rushed over to the wall. He searched over the bricks, feeling with his hands for a moment, when he saw it. Sure enough, Hans found a gap between the stones. Now that he was paying attention, he noticed the dust that had covered the floor underneath. Hans slipped his fingers in it and came back with two small pieces of metal.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Hans exclaimed.
Henry, who had moved over during Hans’s search, looked over his shoulder. They both stared at the metal in Hans’s hand. The motherfucker had given them a lockpick.
They waited until the following day. Until the night had fallen so deeply that only the moon and torches gave any light, and a thick silence, only broken by crickets, surrounded them. Only then did they unlock their room. Or Henry unlocked their room, rather. He’d have to make Henry teach him how to do this at some point. Just like with all the other mundane things nowadays, Henry had to readjust his grip a few times to make sure his pinky was out of the way. But he managed.
Heart pounding in his chest, they rushed downstairs quietly, stopping by the chamber they estimated to be the lady’s one to find the weapons. Sure enough, two long swords and a few pieces of armor stood there. Henry didn’t want to take the extra time to put it on and was more worried about being quiet than wasting time with shoddy armor, so they left it there. Making sure not to wake her, Henry closed her room once more, and she was none the wiser.
Their luck ran out once outside, they couldn’t avoid taking the outdoor stairs, which left them too exposed. A patrolling guard turned around the corner and was on them in seconds. Henry met him and they traded blows for a moment. Hans watched for a way in, shifting impatiently on his feet, but did not risk jumping in. Behind him on the stairs like that, he’d only get in Henry’s way at best, hurt him at worst. He warily watched Henry readjust his grip as his injured finger trembled, but in the end, it didn’t slow him in the slightest. Henry killed the guard quickly enough, but they had made too much noise.
Henry grabbed Hans’s wrist and they ran. No way out was to be found behind the building, and they found themselves trapped between it and the high walls. Two more guards approached them, but instead of attacking, they stood with their swords up towards them in a stupid show of bravery. Henry stood in a fighting stance, assessing them.
“Come quietly, and you won’t be hurt,” the one on the left said.
“Not a chance,” Henry said.
The guard on the right rolled his eyes. “Call off your hound, Capon, or neither of you makes it out alive.”
Hans’s veins burned. He could barely stomach it from Von Bergow, but a worthless guard? No. He ripped his wrist out of Henry’s grip and advanced so quickly, the guard on the left stumbled back whilst the other one raised his shield up pre-emptively. Hans had the urge to roll his eyes. What kind of people did Von Bergow employ, seriously? Hans kicked at the shield, forcing the guard to retreat, and took the opening to take the other one into a clinch. He twisted so he could throw him back towards Henry before he narrowed his eyes on the one he wanted.
Hans attacked with lethal force, letting his rage fuel each of his movements. He had no idea how long their swords clashed loudly into the night before Hans had the guard trapped against the stone wall. It had felt very quick.
“He is not a fucking dog,” he spat.
And on those words, he drove his sword into his guts with more strength than necessary. He was glad the man was only wearing half a plate, protecting his upper body but not his stomach. It would not have felt as good to drive his sword elsewhere. Hand pulled out his sword with a sickening sound, sweat and iron hitting his nose. He felt a deep satisfaction as he watched the life leave his eyes, his body sliding on the floor. It was sinful to enjoy the kill like that, but Hans could not deny it.
When he turned back to Henry, he was staring with a mixture of shock and something Hans couldn’t quite name. Lips slightly open, his breath quickening.
“What?” Hans asked.
He cleared his throat. “Well, hum… That’s my job.”
“I think we’re a little past that, aren’t we?” Hans chuckled as he walked back to him.
Hans grabbed his hand to get Henry moving after him. He only took a couple of steps before Henry used that grip to pull Hans back towards him. Hans tilted his head as he pondered what was going on.
“Hans, that was… Fuck.”
Hans whimpered as Henry crashed their lips together, his arm sneaking behind Hans’s waist to pull him in. A similar, yet entirely different fire burned through Hans’s veins once more, setting him aflame. He dropped his sword, gripping at Henry’s tunic as he pushed him backwards until Hans’s back hit a surface. Hans didn’t know what or where, and he couldn’t care less. He used the support to fold a leg behind Henry’s knee and pull him in as close as he could. Henry moaned into his mouth, and god’s wounds, Hans would kill to hear that again.
Henry was entirely devouring him, there was no other word for it. There was nothing gentle about their kiss, he could already feel the bruises Henry was surely leaving on his hips. Hans needed more, harder, more, more. He tilted his head back as Henry’s lips left his own to trace down his jaw and into his neck. Small moans escaped Hans. He dug his fingernails into Henry’s back and reveled in the sinful hiss coming out of Henry.
A loud shout rang out behind them, and then, all at once, Hans was left cold and alone, and it took a few seconds for his brain to catch up. Henry had met the new guard with his sword and was already trading blows with him. Hans blinked as he tried, and failed, to shake off the lust clouding his thoughts. He didn’t move, however. He simply continued to lean on what he recognised as the outer wall now, watching Henry fight with a silly grin. Hans had all the confidence in the world that Henry would make short work of him and just enjoyed the view.
When the guard fell to the floor, Henry turned around, and a laugh escaped his throat when he noticed Hans had not moved a muscle. He trotted over to where the nobleman had dropped his sword, picked it up, and returned to Hans. He pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, and the sudden tenderness went straight to Hans’s head.
“Thanks for the help, love. We need to go,” Henry said.
Hans giggled. He was entirely too giddy. “Tell me, Hal,” he said as he took the sword being handed to him. “Was it the killing that did it? Because I can go find more guards.”
Henry laughed, shaking his head exasperatedly. “Let’s just say, your protectiveness was… madly attractive,” he said, brushing a finger down Hans’s jaw.
Goosebumps followed the touch, and it took all of Hans’s willpower not to kiss him again. They did have to get to safety first. Instead, he grinned whilst he side-stepped back onto the path.
“Well,” Hans said. “In that case, I suggest you don’t try to find out what my jealousy will look like. I was holding back,” he finished with a wink.
Henry laughed. “Oh, I have no doubt, my love.”
And with that, they set themselves to the task of getting out of their prison once more. Hans was joking, of course. Mostly.
The rest of the way out went smoothly. The rest of the guards were past the drawbridge and had not been alerted to the fighting. Henry and Hans were able to sneak up on them easily, and with the advantage, the fight was over quickly. Only one horse was left in the stables of the fortress, and Hans wondered where they kept the rest of them. Perhaps there was a stable nearby? Regardless, Hans mounted while Henry opened the gate.
For a moment, Hans was tempted to tease him about the first time they had ridden off together. Christ, how far had they come since the last time Hans was the one to reduce Henry to a dog. But he held his tongue and helped Henry get on behind him before launching into a gallop.
Cold air slapped Hans’s face, and he took his first full breath in months. Free. They were free. He took a direction at random, unable to stop his grin. No more tiny room, no more days leaning out of the window just to get some air. Henry had a firm grip around his waist, and Hans allowed himself to lean back into his embrace, his head resting back on his shoulder briefly. He opened his arms wide to enjoy the wind slapping under his tunic, ignoring the cold.
Henry laughed into his ear and kissed his cheek. Hans grinned before straightening again before he lost his balance, and gathered his reins back up. He urged their brown horse forward, hoping they’d recognize something or find a village, maybe an inn.
Eventually, as the night dragged on, Henry guided them into the woods to make camp for the night and find help the next day. Thankfully, they found an abandoned camp still with a tent, a bedroll, and an underused campfire.
Henry jumped off the horse first, and as soon as Hans’s feet touched the ground, he looked up into his eyes, inches from him. Henry matched Hans’s smile before he leaned in wordlessly and kissed him again. Hans reached for Henry, finding purchase in his tunic. He utterly melted under Henry’s gentle kisses, his care, the loving way he was caressing his hair. Hans felt loved. He whined at the overwhelming feeling, leaning back against something solid, trying to pull Henry closer.
The nameless horse snickered as it moved away from the pressure, and Hans nearly tumbled to the floor. Henry caught him as they both laughed.
“Right, let’s maybe not kiss against a horse,” Hans chuckled.
“Hey, you did it, not me!”
“Huh-uh, let’s go with that.”
Henry grinned before he kissed him again. Hans was already losing himself once more, but Henry retreated all too quickly. He pressed another kiss on Hans’s temple.
“Go get comfortable, birdie. I’ll make us a fire.”
“No, I’ll help,” Hans said.
Henry’s eyes widened mockingly. “Good god, what happened to Hans Capon?”
Instead of taking the bait, Hans leaned in, brushing his thumb across Henry’s cheek.
“You said it yourself, Hal. I’m not Lord Capon with you.”
The blue in Henry’s gorgeous eyes nearly entirely disappeared. His lips found Hans’s again, and any thought of a fire was entirely forgotten.
Hans wrapped both his arms around his neck as Henry deepened their kiss. The arm behind Hans’s back was the only thing keeping him up as he felt himself lean more and more backwards, the longer they kissed. Christ’s wounds, Hans never wanted it to stop. He’d be content to spend the rest of his life right here, in Henry’s arms, being kissed into oblivion.
“Hold on,” Henry whispered against his lips.
Hans did not have much time to process the words before he was being lifted into the air. He yelped in surprise and scrambled for purchase, as Henry walked them to the bedroll. Which fortunately was only a few steps away, the nobleman had a feeling Henry had underestimated how much Hans actually weighed. Still, Hans was giggling silly by the time Henry gently set him down.
Henry cut off his laugh with another kiss as he settled over Hans, a leg slotting between Hans’s. His lips trailed off Hans’s jaw, and he would never admit to the sheer amount of embarrassing noises that left his mouth as Henry sucked, bit, and licked at the sensitive skin. A wild joy rushed through him when he realized he’d carry the marks tomorrow, and he gripped Henry’s hair harder. Henry moaned against his neck, as his hand sneaked into Hans’s tunic.
A sharp hiss left Henry’s throat and made Hans pause. Hans had not done anything to warrant it, and he realized his hurt finger must have caught on Hans’s tunic. That won’t do. He pushed at Henry’s shoulder to let him up and pulled out his tunic. Henry watched him with avid eyes as Hans took the opportunity to get rid of his hose and boots, too.
Hans looked at Henry questioningly, tugging on his blood-splashed tunic.
“I love you,” Henry whispered in lieu of an answer.
Hans stilled. Gods, it was embarrassing how quickly he teared up. Henry’s hand gently touched his cheek, and he leaned into the touch. Hans had never heard those words before. It was maddening how they wrapped around him and settled into every pore of his skin, becoming a part of him. Hans smiled, blinking his tears away.
“And I you. So much, Hal.”
To Hans’s surprise, Henry teared up as well. No tear fell down his face, but Hans watched his eyes water before it was blinked away. Hans melted and leaned in to kiss his cheek. He tasted salt and kissed again, getting intoxicated by his skin. He kissed and kissed, tugged on Henry’s tunic again, and this time, he was allowed to remove it. Lust clouding over any decent thoughts, Hans touched and reveled in kissing every inch.
Henry gripped his hair, sending a prickly sensation through Hans’s scalp, and they moaned in unison when Hans licked his nipple. Tentatively, he gently bit at it and it was marvelous to find it had the same effect on Henry that it did wenches. He hadn’t been sure. Not that Hans would ever touch another wench in his life. If Henry thought for one second he’d ever let him go now, the fool had another thing coming.
Before Hans had a chance to give the other side a similar treatment, Henry groaned and, gripping Hans firmly, rolled them over. He straddled Hans, taking his mouth into a deep kiss again, cutting off Hans’s yelp at the sudden motion. He stroked over Hans’s already hard cock. Hans moaned, throwing his head back as a rush of pleasure made his head swim. Henry tugged on Hans’s braies, and the nobleman nodded against his lips.
Henry broke their kiss to remove them, removing his own right after. Hans barely had any time to enjoy the view before Henry settled back on him, trapping both of their cocks in between them. Henry’s teeth found Hans’s neck again as he ground against him, sending a shiver up Hans’s spine.
The nobleman watched Henry spit into his hand, and it was absolutely vile. Hans should be outraged. But he gulped instead, entranced, while Henry grabbed them both. Hans’s reaction did not escape Henry, who regarded him with keen interest as a devilish grin spread on his lips.
“Do you want to?” he whispered.
Hans’s stomach churned as every fiber of his being rebelled against his deep want. Breathless, he slowly nodded. Henry’s grin widened, and he very slowly spit again, directly onto Hans’s mouth. Hans whimpered as he let his lips fall open, his back arching against Henry. By all the gods, what was Henry doing to him? Why did that make him mad? He craved more and took Henry in a filthy kiss that sent stars straight up to Hans’s head.
Henry stroked both of their cocks together. Loud moans escaped them both as the pleasure gradually built up. Their kiss became messy and choppy. Hans lost all sense of anything that wasn’t Henry touching him, and their breath mingled when it became too difficult to keep track of kissing.
Hans came with a sharp cry, darkness swallowing his vision. Henry followed shortly after and stoked them through the waves of pleasure until he half-collapsed onto Hans, his face burying itself into Hans’s neck. Heart pounding, Hans tightened his grip around Henry, keeping him close as they slowly came back down.
Henry’s lips grazed against Hans’s neck before he propped himself up. He looked over Hans with a satisfied, lazy smile, and the nobleman matched it.
“Hans, my love?”
“Aye?”
Henry wiped away a drop of sweat traveling down Hans’s temple. The gentle breeze felt cool against his skin, and Hans reveled in the sensation. He had been trapped inside too long. Here, outside, with Henry, this was where he belonged.
“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but… You do know I’m never letting you go now, right?”
Hans snorted and leaned up to kiss him. “My thoughts exactly, my darling.”
Hans stopped their horse and hesitated on the best course of action for a moment. They could hardly gallop in the opposite direction without being seen, but if this was a garrison from Sigismund, they were dead.
“Wait, that’s Leipa colors,” Henry said.
Hans squinted his eyes. He was right. Hans’s crest was flying proudly on the flags they were carrying. Mixed feelings rose in Hans. Relief at safety. Dread for the upcoming lectures, and possible mistrust. God knows what Von Bergow told them. Hans felt Henry subtly put some distance between them, as much as possible, while you were sitting on one horse, and Henry’s arms dropped to his own side. Hans pursed his lips. He knew why, but it wasn’t fair.
“Well, look who it is!” Hanush exclaimed as they came to a stop in front of them.
Hans looked over to his uncle, Radzig, Godwin, and the Rattay garrison behind them.
“Uncle,” Hans breathed. “I… I don’t know what you heard, but…”
Hanush made a dismissive gesture in front of his face. “Oh, don’t worry your head about it. I know better than anyone not to trust what one has to say in captivity.”
Hans’s breath hitched as he tried to take a deep breath. He hadn’t fully realized how nervous he had been about that. He had not expected his uncle’s graciousness, but he was infinitely grateful.
“We just escaped Maleshov,” Henry said. “What are you doing here?”
“We’re on our way to a meeting in Raborsh with King Weneclaus’s supporters,” Radzig said.
“Raborsh?” Hans exclaimed. “No, that’s one of the places I told Von Berbow about.”
“How so?” Radzig asked.
“I named it as one of the possible places for where you were heading. I… I didn’t have a choice.”
Hanush shrugged. “Meh, he’d have found out anyway. We’re not much concerned.”
“We were also told Sisgismund called a meeting in Kuttenberg. I think Von Bergow will be there,” Henry said.
Razgid and Hanush exchanged a look. “Well, at least he won’t be sticking his nose into our business,” Hanush commented.
“Can we go to Raborsh with you?” Henry asked.
Radzig shook his head. “I wish I could say yes, son, but the city council assembling is a big opportunity. Lord Capon will come with us, but you’ll have to ride to the city right away, Henry. Find a way to get into that council.”
Hans felt Henry tense behind him. “What? But how? And I’ll be recognized, I can’t!”
Radzig shook his head. “You overestimate how much attention Lords pay attention to subjects, you-”
“Sir Radzig,” Hans interrupted. “Henry was injured during our stay in Maleshov. He won’t say as much, but it troubles him, and he can’t hold a sword without pain. He cannot do this, send someone else.”
It wasn’t entirely true. Yes, he had noticed how Henry’s hand had trembled when he gripped his sword. His nail had started to grow back, and Henry said the pain was mostly numb now. He could hold his own just fine anyway. But for Christ’s sake, they were only just free. Hans was not willing to let his squire be sent right back into the belly of the beast.
Henry’s father frowned as his worried glance shifted to Henry. “Injured? How?”
“Tortured for information,” Hans said matter-of-factly.
He didn’t want to play into the shock factor for the sake of it. But he didn’t want to allow any room for dismissal either. Hans didn’t know if any efforts had been made to rescue them, but perhaps he was a little sour that they had been left there to rot for so long. Radzig studied them for a long moment. His eyes flickered between the two of them, making Hans fidget with his reins.
“Very well, come with us, we’ll talk on the way.”
Henry’s breath of relief was loud in Hans’s ear. Radzig and Hanush turned towards their garrison for a moment, and Henry’s thumb brushed Hans’s thigh. He didn’t think it was an accident and bit back a proud grin.
“I’m afraid we don’t have an extra horse, and if we want to make good time, we can’t make a guard walk,” Radzig said as he turned back towards them.
Hans watched a rider separate from the group and launch at a gallop past them. Poor sod. Hans quickly prayed for his safety and success, but was just grateful it wasn’t Henry.
“We’re fine,” Hans said with a dismissive gesture.
Radzig nodded once more, and Hans allowed their horse to fall in line between Radzig and Hanush. Hans took a deep breath, trying to shake the unease that had crept into him. They had only taken a few steps when he stiffened in his saddle.
“Fuck, Henry!” Hans blurted out as he glanced behind him. “We forgot Brabant!”
Drunker than he should be, Hans relaxed on the bench as Henry approached their tables with two more drinks. He grinned at his squire and took his wine. He was so giddy, he didn’t even get annoyed when Henry’s ale splashed on his pourpoint as he sat down too quickly next to him. They were sitting a little closer than was reasonable, but they were drunk enough that nobody would bat an eye.
Henry gestured to their right, laughter in his eyes. Hans followed his gaze to find Godwin talking to a nobleman about his niece. Kundstad, Hans thought. Maybe, he wasn't sure. Godwin was trying to negotiate for monetary support for their army, and the two boys snorted as Godwin offered himself up for marriage.
“Forget about it! Even if by some miracle you could manage to sire children, you’d die before you can raise them!” Kundstad said.
Hans and Henry laughed, and always good-natured Godwin laughed as well. Godwin didn’t know the two boys were next to him, but oh boy, Hans knew Henry would not fail to tease him later.
“The truth doesn’t offend, my lord. But I had to give it a try,” Godwin said. “How about young Lord Capon?”
Hans froze, and their laugh died instantly. Henry tensed next to him as they both gaped at Godwin’s audacity. Just who the hell did he think he was? Hans liked him, but really, he had had maybe two conversations with the man. He had no fucking right. Hans had just escaped one prison, and he would be damned if he was thrown into another right away.
“Absolutely not. Word is, he might be trying to overturn Hanush by siding with Sigismund. True or not, I’ll not risk Jitka becoming a bargaining chip.”
Hans relaxed all at once, breathing out. Henry relaxed similarly next to him, dropping his head onto Hans’s shoulder in a false show of drunkenness.
“Thank god,” he whispered.
Thank god, indeed. At least his half-baked lie all these months ago had been good for something.
“Let’s get out of here,” Hans whispered back.
Henry nodded, and, after emptying his wine way too quickly, they got up. Godwin was still negotiating, and just to make sure he wouldn’t be considered, Hans pushed his empty tankard into the priest’s hands.
“At least ask me before you try to marry me off to some ugly wench,” Hans slurred.
He was acting more drunk than he was, but that ought to do it.
“Sir Hans!” Godwin chastised over Kunstad’s outraged gasp.
Henry pulled him away by the arm quickly, blurting apologies at the two men. They rushed out of the room.
“Christ, Hans, that wasn’t smart. We need the man’s money.”
Hans shrugged. “Godwin’ll fix it. Needed to be sure.”
Henry shook his head with fond exasperation. They sneaked around the fortress, in search of privacy. They eventually found an empty chamber that they locked behind them. Hans found Henry’s lips, tasting the ale he had been drinking all evening. They backed away, lost in each other until Henry’s knees buckled against the bed and he dropped onto it. He sat back, and Hans climbed onto his lap, sliding both hands into his hair.
By the time haunting screams echoed outside, they were already both shirtless, and Henry had acquired some marks of his own. They both startled and looked towards the window. An orange hue had overtaken the courtyard. Hans scrambled to get up and rushed to the glass. Multiple fights had broken out, the building was on fire, women were screaming and running out of the way, it was utter chaos.
They both swore as they rushed to get dressed and ran out. When they burst outside, at the top of the stairs, Hans took a second to assess the situation. That’s when he saw him. He grabbed at Henry’s arm, who was already rushing down the stairs.
“Henry, wait, look! There, past the drawbridge.”
Istvan Toth stood on a horse, far enough away from the fights to be safe, overlooking the scene. Of course, the coward wouldn’t jump into combat. Henry tensed and rushed down the stairs once more, Hans close on his heels. They dodged a few fights as they crossed the courtyard, and Hans paused halfway through.
“Henry, wait!”
“I can’t, Hans!” he exclaimed. “Not again!”
“Trust me!” Hans insisted.
Hans veered to the right, in the direction of the stables, and thankfully, Henry followed. All the horses were gone, but that wasn’t why Hans was here. He plunged his sword into the back of the man Samuel was fighting, meeting Sam’s eyes when the man dropped to the floor. Surprise passed on his face, but it faded quickly.
“Come with us,” Hans said. “I’ll explain later.”
It had been quite the revelation that Henry had a brother. After everything he had been through, finding out he still had family members out there had warmed Hans’s heart. He had been a bit jealous and bitter about it, yes. But he’d be damned if Henry ever learned of it. He wouldn’t take that away from him, no matter how irritating Samuel was.
Sam visibly trusted his new brother because he followed without any hesitation as they made their way to the exit of the fortress. As soon as they crossed the drawbridge and Istvan spotted them, he sneered before turning his horse around and galloping away. Henry didn’t waste any time, he jumped on one of the two horses tethered outside and launched after him with impressive speed.
“Henry!” Hans yelled. “Fuck!”
He rushed to the remaining horse, who was panicking really badly but thankfully had yet to manage to break his tether. Hans grabbed the reins, untying them, and the horse pulled and backed away so fast, the nobleman nearly let him go. Thankfully, Sam grabbed onto the reins as well, and between the two of them, they managed to hold the horse. The poor thing was so scared, a deep streak of white showed in its eyes.
It snorted loudly as it started to turn on itself, making getting on a right difficult affair, but Hans managed. He had to turn the horse a few times to prevent it from bolting before it calmed enough for Hans to offer his arm to Sam. Samuel jumped onto the horse with surprising grace, and finally, Hans released the horse and allowed it to bolt after Henry.
It wasn’t hard to follow their trail as there was only one road out, and Istvan’s torch made him easy to follow. Hans pondered for a moment if he was stupid or leading them into a trap. Whichever it was, Henry was following, and so, Hans would follow. To be fair, Henry was close enough on his heels that dropping the torch wouldn’t make a difference for him, only for Hans and Sam.
“Who’s that?” Samuel yelled into Hans’s ear to be heard over the loud wind.
“The man responsible for Martin’s death.”
Samuel didn’t reply, and Hans was sure he would require more explanation later. But for now, it was plenty for Sam to know that Hungarian swine needed to die.
Istvan veered off the path, Henry following, and Hans guided his horse off as well, to cut through the field in their direction. Toth slowed his horse suddenly, trying to cut sharply in a different direction, but Henry cut him off and launched himself towards him, sending both men tumbling on the grass.
The fire of the torch died, and for a few terrorising seconds, Hans couldn’t see anything anymore. Had Henry been hurt? Please, god, let him be okay. He urged their horse on, though already pushed to its limits, wind snapping in his face. Relief washed over him when he got close enough to see two shadows rise from the grass. He jumped off the horse, vaguely aware of Sam doing the same as he rushed to Henry’s side. Hans side-stepped to surround Istvan, noting the cliff behind them. That’s why Toth had turned so abruptly. At any other moment, Hans would be clapping Henry around the ear for launching himself off like that so close to a fucking cliff. Has one fall not been enough for him?
Istvan snicked as he looked at the three of them, his sword raised. “You just won’t give up, will you? I like that about you. Reminds me of someone.”
“I’m not like you,” Henry spat.
Istvan's eyes flicked between the three of them. They doubled back and lingered on Hans before sliding back to Henry. An amused smile grew on his face. “No? I beg to differ.”
Hans shifted uncomfortably, readjusting his grip on his sword. A quick glance towards Henry told him what he had seen. They were only dressed in pourpoint, no armor or hoods. Nothing to hide the marks they had both adorned on each other’s skin. Good god, only a day and they were already being careless. It was a good thing the man’s remaining time on earth was limited.
Henry ignored the jab and launched forward, attacking viciously. Hans stood ready, but didn’t intervene. This was Henry’s fight. His only contribution was to kick the arsehole back towards Henry when he attempted to side-step away. Samuel took the same cue and stood back, watching carefully. Henry’s muscles tensed with effort as they traded blows, the metal clashing echoing loudly into the night.
A vicious smile spread on Hans’s lips when Henry disarmed him. A strong satisfaction swelled as he watched the love of his life gut the man.
“In the end, you’ll see I was right,” Istvan said, gurgled.
A shocked expression was still fixed on Istvan's face when Henry kicked him off the cliff. He didn’t scream as he went down, only a surprised gasp left his lips as he began to fall. Hans picked up the sword and joined Henry at the side of the cliff, but it was too dark to see anything. Henry still stared for a while.
“Well, my dearest,” Hans said, trying to distract him. “I believe this is yours.”
Henry looked at him and picked up the sword gently, fixated on the blade. A victorious smile crept up, but it disappeared instantly when he looked back up into Hans’s eyes.
“Sorry, if I…” his voice trailed off.
Hans shook his head. “Huh-uh. What was it you said?” he said as he took a step closer. “Madly attractive?” he whispered into his ear.
When Hans stepped back, Henry’s smile was back.
“Jesus fucking christ, be any more obvious, will you?” Samuel sighed.
They both startled as Hans scrambled away. He had entirely forgotten his presence. Samuel rolled his eyes.
“For the record, I don’t give a fuck, but good god, be careful!”
Hans gaped at Sam for a few seconds. Then, he shrugged it off.
“Well, if you don’t care.”
And on those words, he claimed back the step he had taken and pulled Henry in with his free arm around his neck. He kissed him. Henry giggled against his lips, but he didn’t push him away, sneaking his arms around Hans’s waist. Hans felt Henry’s sword press into his back, but he trusted Henry not to hurt him and arched into him. Breathless, they separated, foreheads pressed together.
“I love you, Hal. Every part of you.”
Even the slightly darker part that matched Hans’s at times. He didn’t say it out loud, but he didn’t need to. Henry understood it for what it was as he pressed another chaste kiss on his lips.
“I love you,” Henry murmured.
Sam’s long-suffering sigh convinced them to separate. Henry gave a quick apology, but Hans only huffed.
“Thank you for coming, Sam,” Henry said as he walked over and clapped his shouler.
Samuel shrugged. “Didn’t do much.”
“I appreciate it anyway. You’re here.”
Sam nodded as they all walked back towards the road. Their horses were long gone, probably spooked out of their mind. Great. Hans hoped they were survivors back at Rabosh. Fuck, he had entirely abandoned them, his uncle included. Hanush will be fine. He always was, the old bastard, Hans told himself.
They hadn’t been walking long before a cart met them. Liechtenstein, a drunk man dressed in green, and Samuel’s rabbi were on it.
“Quickly, Samuel, get on,” the rabbi said. “Sigismund is about to attack the Jewish quarter in Kuttenberg.”
Hans and Henry exchanged a glance before they moved to get on after Samuel. Liechtenstein raised a hand to stop them.
“Absolutely not, Sir Hans. You’re not coming. What if you’re kidnapped again?”
Hans rolled his eyes and got in anyway, sitting next to the drunk. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion. Besides, what are you going to do, leave me all alone in the middle of nowhere without so much as a horse?”
Henry sat next to him, and the rabbi got the cart moving right away, without waiting for Lichtenstein’s answer.
“Don’t worry, sir. Sir Hans is a very capable fighter,” Henry said.
A pleased smile fought to settle onto Hans’s lips, and he resisted the urge to turn it on Henry right away. Instead, he watched John look like he had bitten into a rotten apple for a moment before he shook his head.
“Fine. Be careful and stay close to your bodyguard.”
“No problem there,” Hans said as he shoved his shoulder into Henry’s.
Henry grinned back at him. Good god, it had been non-stop chaos since they had escaped. Hans was glad of it, after so many months of stillness. He leaned ever so slightly into his lover as he watched Samuel and John exchange hushed words, suspiciously close to one another. Huh. Maybe there was a reason Samuel didn’t care.
Hans exchanged an amused glance with Henry. It had not escaped his notice either. Audentes Fortuna Iuvat, eh?