Chapter Text
Chapter 10 - Awake my soul - Part 1
He had fought against the urge to stare at him throughout the banquet.
It had been a torture.
Henry sat opposite him at the wide table, looking steadfast, mighty and chivalrous in his figure underlining attire.
Was it the doublet or had his shoulders and back even gotten broader in comparison to the afternoon?
His short trimmed beard, the shaven temples and sides of his head gave his face the sharp cut appearance of a knight. The scar behind his ear right under the edge of the barrett however shifted the impression to one of a rough and battle experienced warrior.
Though the garments were fine cut and of expensive quality they weren't extravagant. He knew Henry didn't care much about new fashion unless it suited and didn't annoy him.
-God It was embarrassing -
The moment he had stepped before him, his heart had shot up his throat and then the blood pressure had dropped down to his loins.
The fact that the king had addressed him familiarly as ‘Sir Henry’ at the beginning was proof that he was held in high regard. If his assumptions were correct, and Henry's hunting equipment in his armoury suggested so, he was certainly one of the knights who regularly accompanied the king on hunting trips to ensure his safety.
He gritted his teeth.
The stupid, nasty feeling that had settled in his gut was all too familiar. -Damn it,- he was jealous. But not of Henry, but of the king, who had access to him, whenever he so liked.
Henry hadn't even batted an eyelid about the greeting.
-Holy mother mary-, He wished his breathing were calmer.
A servant came around and filled his cup with red wine. Immediately a heavy scent of berries, wood and earth erupted from his goblet.
The liquid slid roughly over his tongue. Then he put down the almost absurdly decorated goblet again.
Now he desperately tried to concentrate more on Henry's behaviour than his breathtaking appearance.
Because everything else about Henry raised so many questions and so much uncertainty in him.
No sooner had he digested the information in the afternoon that during the six years of their separation, Henry had worked his way up to become Court Marshal, one of the twelve highest offices in the country, than he noticed new things about him that he couldn't quite place.
There was so much, yet so many little things too. So many facets of him he had never seen before.
The way he took to all the courtly rules with ease, having taken off his long sword before sitting down and handed it, as a matter of course, to a standby servant, was only one example.
He was accustomed to these attentions, to his position, and played by the rules he had once ridiculed. The lad who had never used serving cutlery until he came to Pirkstein in the early summer of 1403 now a man, used it with ease to help himself to the food and ate almost elegantly, with his own knife.
His Majesty, as was customary, had steered the conversation towards serious topics between the courses and had asked for Henry’s brief report. And so he had done as asked, and had answered to the king in his deep, calming voice.
Henry had eloquently explained the conflict with the Hussites at the church in a nutshell. The fact that he had been entrusted with the situation spoke in his favour. But that he had actually been able to de-escalate the situation, had just arrested a few - fuck he could nowadays just arrest people in the name of the king! - was testament to his diplomatic skills.
However, he answered the king's questions neutrally without letting his personal opinion influence his answers. The mouthy Henry of earlier days would certainly not have been able to keep this completely under wraps.
So it was no coincidence that the whole table had listened to him with ease.
He smiled to himself.
Even Heinz enjoyed listening to him, and the boy had an attention span that put even the King in the shade.
His presence was so engaging, but much more pleasant than the moment he had intercepted him at the royal stables.
Strangely enough the Prague dialect was now omnipresent again.
And so he fitted into this image of the royal court like a model representative of his knighthood.
But in all those years, his words had not lost their warmth and humanity. Even when he made a little joke about the poor priest they had had to pull out from under the altar, shivering.
And he himself had no chance but to smile broadly at him about the remark too.
The moment Henry cracked one of his small laughs, his eyes, accentuated even more by his ocean-blue tappert, had been that blazing steel blue he had fallen in love with all those years ago.
And then for some reason…
…he had smiled his way.
As if Henry had fallen out of his role and back to their past, he had sought his gaze.
…and he had been so blindsided by it the same way as trying to shoot a bird from the sky and accidentally looking into the sun.
The crooked grin had caught him off guard, the following tingling sensation had spread through his entire body.
As his warm smile vanished, his face relievingly didn't change to one carved of cold stone, but rather to one of uncertainty.
After that he did not tear his attention away with force, but now and then tried to read his gestures without giving much away himself.
But why was he still holding on to that wall between them?
It hurt, but not because it felt natural, but because Henry maintained it so unnecessarily cruel.
-Why is he keeping himself so distant from me?-
The unrest of that would not let go of his thoughts.
They still had this chemistry of the past, as the sparring match had shown earlier that day. Likewise all their heated verbal exchanges had shown that there still was that fiery dynamic between them, and he hadn’t even recognised Henry under that bascinet at that time but still had felt that old connection.
-Why are you acting so reserved... .. completely different from back then?-
And then a thought came to him that suddenly opened up a new perspective.
-Maybe he is just as lost and confused in this as I am…But why is he so excessively wary..? -
If only he knew what was going on inside his head.
~+* -----*+~
The main course was almost over, and the company laughed heartily at a remark made by the castellan, Sir Krawarn of Helfenstein.
It had been some joke about an anecdote from the Italian court. He smiled politely, but his heart would not calm down.
The red wine served with the main course, was dry and heavy, and although Henry wouldn't have touched anything like that in their youth, he now drank it without wrinkling his nose.
-Have you really changed this much, Hal?-
But suddenly he noticed how much water he was drinking along with it.
With a tiny smile brushing over his lips he teared his gaze away from him only to keep watching him out of the corner of his eyes.
Perhaps he had simply allowed himself to be unsettled, had not looked closely enough, had stopped trusting his gut feeling?
Maybe Henry was still the blacksmith's boy from their past, only he had become wonderfully adept at hiding it.
-Then, why am I so agitated? - What am I afraid of ?-
The memory of his uncle's words shot through him. But he fought them back. -Right, you don't want to ruin it again.-
Then he swallowed.
In other words, hadn't he already done so?
-So what do I have left to lose? That silly hope that had left me with nothing but longing and pain?-
A clattering sound startled him out of his thoughts.
The food platters were cleared away, and now he could see the annoyed, almost angry frown on Henry's forehead for a split second.
In keeping with his rank, he had been served as one of the last at the table, but the King obviously did not have the same appetite as a knight of Henry's stature and had finished his meal early.
According to the rules, no one ate anymore once the king had finished. And so Henry too had to comply.
For a brief moment, he saw that honest side of Henry who didn't take kindly to questions about food and hunger.
A soft chuckle escaped his throat and before he knew otherwise he fired a mischievous look at him.
Henry raised his prominent eyebrows at him, then rolled his big blue eyes in annoyance.
Years ago he would have teased him…but … why should he hold back now? Maybe he would come out of his shell, would reveal his character as openly again as in 1403.
Without hesitation, he pushed his plate over to him. There was still a proper piece of roast pork on it, which he had taken too much of.
He knew Henry wasn't allowed to take it. Court etiquette forbade it. And Henry knew too.
But that angry stare he threw back at him was priceless.
The smug grin on his lips widened as Henry cracked one of his knuckles. -Fuck- he was even more handsome when he was hangry.
He leaned a little forth on his chair and gave him another challenging look.
Henry smirked and…
Bam
gave him a kick to the shin under the table. A gesture he certainly hadn't seen coming.
-bloody hell, he didn’t even hold back.-
But instead of being silenced by the kick, it had almost the opposite effect.
He chuckled briefly like a boy in communion class, then bit his lip.
Sir Krawarn turned in his chair. “Would you like to share that amusing story with us, Lord Capon?”
- Fuck -
He glanced over briefly to the high Lord but his eyes peered over to Henry once again.
Henry's expression had changed. His small lopsided smile suddenly transformed to that broad naughty boyish grin.
The heart was jumping with joy, a tickling rush flooded his belly.
The broadest smile shot over his own burning cheeks in return before he even noticed.
He couldn't take his eyes off him. The sharp edges of his face had softened and so he looked just like that young blacksmith boy who had walked the first time into Pirkstein all those years ago.
“...Lord Capon?”
The embarrassment rose to his ears but he managed to play it down by stroking his short beard and gazing appealingly to the high lords and ladies at the table.
“I am sorry. Sir Court Marshal reminded me of a silly story, which I may impose on you, Lord Castellan.” His charm and impeccable manners slipped over him like one of his favourite garments. “But my hesitation lay in the worry to upset this noble company while doing so; the tender-hearted among us may not want to hear about our moves against Sigismund in the summer of 1403.”
King Wenceslas looked at them sincerely. “No, no, Lord Capon, please share it!”
And so he did.
He told of how they had tried to weaken King Sigismund's allies, of the gathering of all King Wenceslas' supporters in Raborsch, which had been violently crushed by the Prague milizia, and finally of the capture of Von Bergow in Maleshov and the infiltration of the Italian court.
Henry listened to him, glancing over at him while raising an eyebrow now and then in annoyance or cracking a small smirk occasionally.
He smiled in return, knowing that he had embellished or deliberately omitted a few details.
But especially the moment when he mentioned Zizka, he had felt Henry's leg pressing a warning against his under the table.
The touch shot through him like a thunderstruck, leaving him with goose bumps right away, but he didn't pull back or let it on.
He was somewhat aware that Jan Žižka of Trocnov did not currently enjoy the best reputation in the empire even though he had been officially pardoned by the King. His strategies and fighting methods were considered unchivalrous despite the successes, and therefore controversial. So he described their alliance at the time as a matter of difficult necessity.
"...And so, disguised as the knightly entourage of the Italian cardinal, we entered the Italian court and took Sigismund's guards by surprise.”
“Goodness gracious! It's almost like in the tales of Troy!” The wife of the Lord high Cupbearer Magdalena of Wartenberg hung on his every word. “I didn't know you could speak italien, Sir Court Marshal?”
Henry shook his head dismissively and smiled. “Not a single word at that time, in fact.”
Skeptical, he studied his reaction. - As if it's any different now?-
Henry's eyebrow twitched defiantly meeting his gaze, as if to say, ’You'd like to know, wouldn't you?'
“Do you speak it, Lord Capon?” The lady's facial features betrayed her disbelief.
“Fortunately, just as well or as poorly as the gentlemen whom Sigismund had entrusted with the protection of the court.” He had to laugh. “But one of us spoke it quite well. He mimicked a phenomenal authentic cardinal. Godwin Oderin of Raborsch.”
The group laughed. Even the King burst into hearty laughter. “Unimaginable. The audacity alone.”
He saw that prominent raised eyebrow in Henry's face, that clearly said. ‘Well, if the original cardinal was also an alcoholic boozing and whouring priest, you're right.’
Biting his lip for a second he drew his attention back to the audience.
Vividly, he continued his story. “As it turned out, the Prague militia was already hot on our trail. They cut off our main route through the gates, so we escaped with the silver through the catacombs to the outside. But before that, our Court Marshal was able to free our allies, safe and sound.”
The guests at the table looked at Henry in astonishment, yet nodded in approvement. So did the King.
Only the Lord High Chamberlain wrinkled his nose. “One can argue that one hardly needs chivalrous qualities for such a questionable undertaking.”
Hans frowned. That was an indirect attack against his and Henry's honour and undermined his credibility. Lord of Sternberg was more sceptical of Henry than he had previously let on. Either that or he had other political reasons.
He was about to object when he felt Henry's leg press against his again.
The King himself clearly knew how to handle the tension very well. “Zizka's style of command and methods are indeed not very chivalrous, High Chamberlain. We all agree.” Then, however, he turned to the group and almost giggled. “But for my part, I am glad to have chosen a knight for the security of my court who could identify the weak points of the Italian in a single day. Wouldn’t you agree?"
The dinner party laughed along with him and so did he after a while.
He had to admit to himself that the King, against all rumours, was very capable of charmingly dominating the table and, on top of that, distinguishing himself in the process.
He stole a glance over at Henry. He gave him a knowing ghost of a smile which he understood immediately.
Simultaneously they grabbed their wine goblets and let the affair be.
Vinzent of Wartenberg broke the silence again. “And how did this undertaking end, Lord Capon?”
“Thank you Lord High Cupbearer for granting me the chance to finish the story…” As natural as ever, he regained the attention of the people at the table. He barely noticed Henry's brief huff and smirk. “We managed to bring the silver to the fortress of Suchdol not without a fight and some bitter loss.”
Henry raised his drink to him. He hadn’t said a word but he understood the intention that flashed through Henry's eyes over the rim of his goblet only too well.
-let’s toast to Adder…-
Their cups met with an almost silent ring.
“...But even though Sigismund returned with his army to Hungary afterwards with no Groschen left in his war funds, the Prague militia blocked all roads and besieged us for months.” He continued the story. This time, he was unable to maintain his cheerful tone.
“Good Lord! A siege!” The wife of the castellan sighed.
Her husband nodded. “They must have been eager for his Grace's Silver.” he huffed. “But what a disgrace to fall back on besieging a castle for it.”
The High Chamberlain agreed. “Wearing down one's enemy in this manner is not a valuable victory.”
“I’d like to agree, Lord High Chamberlain.” Henry spoke calmly. “I fear that in such situations, to most men the end simply justifies the means. And as you stated correctly earlier, our alliance given Sigismund's superior forces had not covered itself in pure glory, either.”
“Spoken like a true diplomat, Sir Court Marshal.” Vinzent of Wartenberg noted.
But his wife chimed in. “But how did your troops survive the siege? It must have been horrendous!”
“Brace your tender heart, Madame, that it was.” He answered her warmly and with a sincere voice but paused for a moment to built up tension.
The touch of Henry's leg against his calf still lingered gently. His warmth spread through the hoses over his skin.
His heartbeat was racing.
Why wasn't he withdrawing his foot?
Did he not trust him with telling the story without stepping on the high lord's toes or ruining his reputation?
He simply couldn't figure him out.
“The fortress hadn’t been well prepared for it.” He continued. “Rations were almost exhausted after three weeks and there were numerous wounded. Worse still, our request for reinforcements had not reached Lord Margrave Jobst and his alliance army, so he was still in Moravia and unable to come to our aid.”
“Good Lord!” The lady was practically gasping for breath. “But what did you live on afterwards?”
"Not much." Without thinking about it, he shot a glance over at Henry, unsure whether he should go into detail or not. But Henry nodded, almost not visible.
Or is he still looking out for me?
So he took a chance as he didn’t notice any pressure against his leg. His voice was rich with amusement. "Luckily, the Court Marshal spared me most of this information. But when our situation seemed almost hopeless, he volunteered on this suicide mission to bring reinforcements and left me behind on Zizkas command. After that I was enlightened that we feeded on cooked leather straps by then."
Those present sighed and turned away in shock then fell along with him into laughter.
To his surprise Henry joined in. How wonderful it was to hear him chuckle so freely. Still smiling, he added.. “In my defence, to save him from starvation, I had left Lord Capon my dog to slaughter before I left, but he refused it.”
-Aye, you did -
Their little giggles faded away as they looked into each other's eyes. For years, he had pictured himself telling this story with him.
Odd was it not? The time in Suchdol had been one of hardship, despair and worries. But just one glance, one shared laugh with Henry had been enough to overcome even the grief of buried brothers in arms. They had pulled through. Together. Several times.
His heart was bursting with a bittersweet happiness at these memories, but even more so at sharing them together with him. And for the first time, Henry's demeanour was no longer reserved. His lips were curved to a heartfelt smile. His steel blue eyes, an endless depth.
From somewhere came a short laugh of appreciation from the King. “A true proof of loyalty and love among brothers in arms, when one is willing to sacrifice even one's dog for the other.”
However the moment the words loyalty and love filled the room, the fiery steel blue of Henry's eyes clouded over, revealing a vulnerability he had not expected to witness.
The joyful leaping of his heart turned into stabbing beating, the air in his lungs seemed no longer to be enough.
“True words, Your Majesty.” Then he saw a flicker, and Henry’s previously open expression disappeared behind a crooked smile, leaving only the strained working of his jaw as he turned to the king with a sad laugh that didn't fit him. “In the end, I reached the army camp, and the Margrave's bannermen broke the siege just in time and the silver was saved.”
He could only swallow and smile feebly.
Finally he understood why Henry had been this cold and distant. Why he had avoided him like the plague.
Six years ago, he must have hurt him more deeply and persistently than he had feared.
~+* -----*+~
How fickle my heart and how woozy my eyes
I struggle to find any truth in your lies
And now my heart stumbles on things I don′t know
My weakness I feel I must finally show
Lend me your hand and we'll conquer them all
But lend me your heart and I′ll just let you fall
Lend me your eyes I can change what you see
But your soul you must keep, totally free
Har har, har har, har har, har har
~+* -----*+~
The night sky hung low and cloudy over Prague. The wind had died down and the air crackled as he exhaled.
The stone of the balustrade in front of him felt heavy and cold as ancient ice against his hands. He wanted to embrace that coldness, hoping it would calm him.
The banquet was officially over, the King had retired to a smaller room with a few of the guests and some of the company were still lingering in the hall.
He breathed in and out shakily and dug his heels into the terrace paved with large sandstone slabs. The garden in front of him was terraced, with trees and plants stretching out behind it, as far as he could see in the flickering torchlights. The towers of the castle wall glistened silver in the few moonbeams.
Somewhere, a door creaked open. Surely the heat, the wine, or both had gone to the heads of other guests in the hall as well.
“Did you enjoy the dinner?”
Startled, he looked over his shoulders. Henry was nearing himself and came to stand beside him.
However, his gaze passed him by. Always observing his surroundings.
He turned back to the garden and overcame his shock and huffed. “Definitely more than the one on Trosky.”
Henry chuckled softly. “Right. This time, there was no one present who had wanted to hang you shortly before.”
“Are you sure?” He looked at him sarcastically. - Don’t you hate me? -
Henry turned towards him with a twinkle in his eye. "Now the Chamberlain dislikes me for being merely a knight who is trusted by the King. But he only finds your charm annoying. That's an improvement."
His heart beat faster with a strange mixture of joy and nervousness, but at the same time a warmth spread through him. Henry was here standing next to him, talking to him. Without any formalities or reserves.
Just like Henry…
It felt wonderfully relieving.
A broad grin spread across his cheeks. “Fortunately, he was the only one at that table who held that opinion.”
Henry snorted.
“What?”
“You haven't heard my opinion yet.” He grinned cheekily.
“You wouldn't dare..." He gave him a stern glare but his amusement didn't leave his voice and curled lips.
But suddenly Henry straightened and stepped in front of him. “What wouldn't I dare?” His presence changed in the blink of an eye.
The gentle warmth left him at the same time as the personality of his former partner changed to the intimidating commander of the Royal Guard.
The sudden proximity was completely unexpected. He leaned back and stared at him in shock.
All humour had vanished from Henry's features. - What the…-
An ice cold shiver ran over him.
“..you shouldn’t dare to threaten the Court Marshal in the royal palace.” Henry's gaze had darkened to a dangerous glare. That friendly smile had completely fallen from his features as he pierced him with his steel cold eyes.
Nevertheless, the hairs on his nape stood up.
His heart raced, his breathing hitched. - I don’t understand, we were just joking…-
Henry must have misunderstood him!
Suddenly, there was a clattering of armour somewhere. Steel rang. The guards nearby readied their weapons.
He swallowed hard. “...Hal?”
The tension was so high you could cut it between them.
He just kept staring into his clear and cold eyes, studying his relations in an absolute lack of words.
And then…
Henry turned away and …
…Laughed!
Loud and cheerful.
“...”
“By God…” He barely managed to contain the heavy shaking of his laughter. His usual grounding deep voice shot up to that higher pitched sniggering. “...you should have seen your face!”
-WHAT? -
It had been a bluff, a joke, a…. He felt all his features slip away.
A shaking gasp of relief escaped him next. Breathing in the lost air again he managed a faint. "...You devil…”
Henry was still fighting against his giggle.
He shook his head in disbelief “You... mean dog….you bastard...” Anger boiled up inside him and then disappeared again.
Because he saw him laughing, so freely...
… so heartbreakingly, like a lad who had pulled off the greatest of pranks.
- I guess… I deserved that. -
Henry made a tiny hand gesture and the two guards at the door stirred, sheathed their swords and disappeared behind the door into the hall. Henry gave a very self-satisfied sigh. “You actually fell for it and froze."
“No, I didn't …”
“Yes you did.” Henry chuckled.
“That is a brash exaggeration...” he managed grumpily. “I was merely speechless…”
Henry looked at him still beaming and leaned on the balustrade. “It was a brash exaggeration to describe Godwin as a phenomenal authentic cardinal in front of the King.”
“Well, then it's unfortunate that the real one didn't survive to ever prove the opposite.” he replied quick-wittedly, unfortunately unable not to mirror his grin.
"Sakra...Hans…”Henry shook his head slightly, still chuckling.
A sparkling sensation rolled over his skin the moment he said his name.
Steel blue eyes locked in on him. “...You're still sooo..."
He smirked and cut him short. “What? Eloquent, charming, sharp…”
“Brazen, smug, annoying.” His former partner glanced at him with a raised eyebrow then looked towards the battlements behind the garden.
There was a small rustle as Henry’s hand brushed over the hilt of his sword while his gaze wandered over their surroundings. “But you also mentioned our fallen brothers in arms. That was noble of you.”
The joke faded between them. And with it, some of the light-heartedness.
They breathed in silence a few times.
Now would have been the time.
To say…
-What?-
That he had missed him terribly?
Could he even throw these words at him after what he had said to him in the past? After his cruel behavior had driven him away?
So much was on the tip of his tongue... but he didn't want to destroy this gentle moment either.
He leaned his backside against the balustrade and looked in the opposite direction for a moment.
The elaborately masoned stone walls of the palace, the ornate window frames and Gothic gables towered impressively above them. The flickering lights of the hall shimmered brightly through the large open glass windows.
Even though the frosty night blew clear air around them, there was a lingering hint of wine and open fire in the air.
Only then did he glance furtively over his shoulder.
Henry's features were warmly lit by the torches, a barely noticeable crease pulling the corners of his mouth into a warm expression. His eyebrows were relaxed, but his gaze was... absent.
Only now did he notice how tired he looked. -You work hard. - Henry bore a great deal of responsibility nowadays. - You can be proud, Hal. -
He still couldn't believe it, though. “Court Marshal, mmh?”
Henry turned slightly towards him and looked at him expectantly.
“You built quite a life for yourself, Henry. One of the twelve highest offices...” he held his gaze for a moment then he had to grin and turned to the door of the banquet hall, trying not to blush. “...and an important one with responsibility at that…” mockingly he continued. “Whatever a high Lord Cupbearer is needed for..."
“Well…for…” Henry started but then laughed almost inaudibly. “Even after three years at court, I still don't quite understand it.”
He let out air through his nose in amusement. “Three years? And before that?”
“Royal Guard for a couple of months, then the Margrave war.” He explained plainly.
He raised an eyebrow at him, now it was Henry who avoided his gaze.
“Before I knew it…King Wenceslas lent me to Jobst. I served under his command till 1406 to support him in the war in the name of the King. You know best how these changes of personnel are decided....” Henry's voice had sounded bitter but then he swallowed and struggled with himself for some reason.
The pause felt uncomfortable. And somehow there was more meaning to that last sentence.
But then he continued in a neutral tone. “..At first I supervised the supply trains from central Bohemia to Brünn for him, after that I commanded a troop, then troops and protected the border areas in the name of the King…” He huffed. “Most of the time I tried to survive ambushes of robber knights and protect the poor rural population."
He simply nodded. That explained a lot. These experiences must have had a huge impact on him.
“And you?” Henry glanced over his shoulder. “Why have you come to Prague?”
“My uncle.. I finally decided to remove him from my so-called guardianship by court order.”
Henry nodded. “I heard rumours about him. Mostly about reaching out to Sigismund's allies again. But also…” He paused significantly.
“He is in close contact with many of those noble families because he owes them great amounts, yes. I know.” He swallowed and told him without hesitation. “Although it took me two years to find that out.”
The next words almost bubbled out of him. “...After that, I took everything upon myself and managed it as is my right. But he still thinks he's in the right to plunder Ratay's coffers to pay off his debts. Some of those are older than myself. God knows where he spent that amount in the first place." It really did feel good to be able to talk to someone about it.
“I am sorry to hear that.”
There had been a moment when he would have shied away from dragging Hanush in front of the Lord High judge at court. As strained as their family relationship was, he had raised him and his sense of honour had long resisted it.
But that was long gone. “Don't be. It is overdue.” He sighed. "It's not so much about the fraud, but more about the fact that the money belongs where it was earned. I could have used it to renovate the bridge to Ledetschko, invest it into Neuhof’s stables or in a bigger grain silo for times of famine. Anything would have been better than putting it towards some war debts that were incurred long before my time."
Henry looked at him sympathetically. "You're right." But he could also read something else in Henry's eyes. Was it recognition?
A slight mockery washed over himself. “But, the Lord High Judge postponed my hearing for the time being, so I am left in Prague with not much else to do then watch the tournament with Heinrich.”
“I see.” Henry smiled quietly.
With a scraping he turned and looked again over the balustrade into the royal garden. Only one small step separated them now.
A light breeze blew through his hair. Then there was almost no wind again. Every thought he wanted to form dried up.
It just felt good to be near him and yet...
Henry broke the silence, almost reluctantly. “You really named him like you said.”
He swallowed. The significance of his next words made it difficult to utter them. Softly he managed. “I promised you, didn't I?”
After a second he dared to look over at Henry. But his former partner stared straight ahead. Only his jaw muscles twitched. “Aye...you did.” he whispered.
…and yet he still longed for him at the same time.
He watched him still. Henry's long dark eyelashes twitched, his ears had turned to a reddish colour due to the cold.
The lungs opened deep but surprisingly calm, the heart was beating strong with certainty.
-I love him -
Everything he felt was exactly what he had felt six and a half years ago.
In the meantime, there had been days when he had convinced himself that he might not even love him anymore, let alone like him. Or that this sinfully addictive attraction to him might have withered like a flower.
He swallowed again. If anything, these feelings had matured like good wine and gained depth and even more meaning.
If only he could tell him.
Suddenly, something disturbed his view.
White snowflakes drifted down from the black sky, glistening in the warm light of the torches and landing on the fine fibres of Henry's dark blue cloak.
Simultaneously, they straightened and looked up at the night sky.
More and more white dots danced down. They mingled with the visible breath clouds escaping their lips.
-Snow after Easter.- That was rare.
Only now did he realise how the cold had overcome him and made his fingers numb.
A small warm laugh escaped Henry's throat.
He faced him. Joy shot into his own question. “What is it?”
But Henry looked back in all openness. A fire in his steel-blue eyes and a slight curl on his lips. He hesitated and then settled on: “Nothing.”
The eye contact remained, then Henry cleared his throat and looked over his shoulder. “We should call it a night before the roads are snowed in or worse.”
“Are you joking?” Sceptically, he studied the sky again. The snowflakes were increasing, clumping together into large bouquets and falling faster to the ground.
-Maybe he is right.-
Long footsteps scuffed across the floor.
When he looked back, Henry was already at the large hall door and reaching for the enormous iron handle.
-No! He is leaving, he... -
His heart, which had last been beaten with angelic tranquillity, leapt back into his throat. Unease crept into his bones.
Suddenly Henry turned his shoulder back and looked around for him with a smirk. “Are you coming, or what?”
A sparkling joy washed over his system and he didn’t care that his face was showing it. Before he knew it, he grabbed the door leaf that Henry was already holding for him.
Their fingers touched accidentally. He swallowed. Henry's hands had always been like a forge, almost radiating his heat even in the coldest of nights. Now it wasn’t any different.
A trusting sensation came over him, like one that reminds you of home, one that embraces your inner self and relieves you of worry. A heavy but grounding warmth.
Only he was certain that it was not coming from inside the hall.
And then they stepped back inside.
~+* -----*+~
How fickle my heart and how woozy my eyes
I struggle to find any truth in your lies
And now my heart stumbles on things I don′t know
My weakness I feel I must finally show
Lend me your hand and we'll conquer them all
But lend me your heart and I′ll just let you fall
Lend me your eyes I can change what you see
But your soul you must keep, totally free
Har har, har har, har har, har har
Awake my soul
Awake my soul
~+* -----*+~
