Chapter Text
“This is almost extortion, you know?”
Henry raised his brow as he fastened the belt under his heavy cloak. He was hot and sweaty already, and he was not having this conversation right now.
“Extortion? How is a walk with your son considered an ‘extortion’?”
“I said ‘almost’,” Hans defended himself and continued to dress up with less than half of the enthusiasm his bodyguard had. “And you know what I mean!”
Henry sighed as if his soul just took off and left his body for the afterlife. Looking at his lord, this was hardly the morning he imagined when he haggled a short release time for Heinrich on behalf of his broody mood. Bloody father, he’s gonna have a big talk with him when he arrives. If he arrives.
Henry shook his head. No thinking about that.
He shifted his focus back to Hans, but the sight he was blessed with didn’t exactly fill him with reassurance.
Capon’s hands were fiddling with the buckles of his surcoat with the dexterity of a four-year-old, his fur coat was still tangled and thrown over chair in the corner, and his boots were nowhere in sight, his lordship standing in his chamber with nothing but his bare feet.
He was doing it on purpose, Henry was sure. Fortunately, patience was one of his virtues, maybe even the most prized one.
“He’s feeling better, you saw it yourself,” he hummed in the calming voice he usually used with his animals and stepped towards Capon. “An hour or two outside won’t hurt him, on the contrary. He’s gonna burn some of that energy and feel miles better. Happier. And Jitka as well, when she gets out of that room for once.”
As he was talking, he buckled and smoothed out Hans’s clothes for him, like he had many times before, and occasionally ran his fingers across the firm lines of his body underneath. When he finally looked up, his lord dressed appropriately for the weather, there was a strange tint in the mas’s eyes, one that Henry didn’t really understand.
“Do you seriously hate the idea of a snowball fight with your son and me that much?” he asked, his voice hushed and warm, but full of hidden mischief.
“No snowball fights, Henry!” Hans shrieked in his offended, high-pitched voice as expected, and Henry couldn’t help but chuckle.
“I know, you mentioned…” No snowball fights, no running, no peasant wintertime activities that could result in coughing and sneezing; the list of requirements for this walk was quite extensive. Nevertheless, Henry was very pleased with himself that he managed to convince him.
“But he’s gonna love it anyway,” he smiled and gently caressed Hans’s neck.
His lord did return the smile briefly, but then the corners of his mouth faltered.
“Somehow, I doubt it,” he murmured so quietly, Henry almost couldn’t hear him. It was rare he got vulnerable, even with him. They had both grown up and matured with the idea that showing emotions was a sign of weakness.
Henry perhaps not exactly; his Ma and Pa were nothing but gentle with him, back in the day, even if he couldn’t see it then, but still there were moments in his life – many of them – that taught him that keeping his heart closed and shunning all unnecessary feelings away was better than being hurt. Getting them all back was a slow and painful process; one he was sure Hans was fighting through as well.
“He adores you,” he reassured his lord – his lover – just like they would have done, especially Ma.
Hans looked into his eyes and then glanced sideways, as if ashamed. “Yeah, well… maybe he shouldn’t.”
Henry’s forehead scrunched with a small frown. Hans wasn’t a particularly broody person; he was a proud and sometimes boastful man, very rarely engaging in self-deprecation, even though he harboured his fair share of insecurities. The relationship with his son was always an exception.
“He should,” Henry reassured him and smoothed out the collar of his fur cloak. “Because you adore him too, and you’re a great father, and you always want what’s best for him.” He was overprotective, yes, and sometimes way too sensitive about Heinrich’s wellbeing, making well-meant but misguided decisions. That didn’t mean he wasn’t a good parent. And, Henry was also aware, those decisions didn’t come out of nowhere.
“What happened in the past, is in the past,” he added, smiling brightly and honestly at him. “What matters is now. And now, we’re going outside, and we’re gonna have so much fun. Safe and responsible fun,” he added, when he saw Hans take a deep breath to argue.
“We’re gonna take a stroll through Rattay, deliver some carrots to Cake in the stables, buy some pastries and then make fun of Bernard trying to force some discipline down the lads’ throats…”
The short snicker that left Hans’s throat was like a jug of cold ale after a long day of labour.
“And after we go around the whole town and maybe even say hi to Theresa at the mill, the little chic will be laughing and smiling and, most importantly, he will much more agreeable. The two of you both, really. Lord knows I really need a break.”
“You’re an idiot,” Hans huffed, but his eyes were full of colour again, the gloom gone and forgotten like it had never appeared in the first place.
“Aye, that I am,” Henry beamed proudly, and then pecked Hans on the lips. “Now put your boots on and get your arse moving, while it’s still sunny outside.”
It was honestly nothing but delightful; the way the little lordling started to immediately turn his head around in awe, once they left the castle. The air was cold and dry, their breaths turning into puffy clouds of frozen vapor the moment they stepped outside, but the day otherwise seemed very forgiving considering it was still the middle of winter.
As they continued their slow stroll through the town – the two Capons hand in hand up front and Henry dutifully positioned behind them – the people of Rattay all seemed to take a moment of their time to bow to their lords and wish them a good day. Most of them even greeted Henry – no wonder when he’s been known as the biggest helper and protector of common folk from here to Kuttenberg – making jests of him looming like a faithful shadow behind his lieges.
There were days it bugged him; that he’ll never be allowed to show his love openly, or to prove his loyalty to Capon doesn’t come from obligation or gratitude. Some days, he resented that Heinrich may never know what his father means to him, or that he’d always consider him his own son, despite not sharing the same blood. He even hated the way Jitka must have felt, knowing she’d never have her husband wholly; him giving his heart to somebody else before she even met him.
This day wasn’t among them. He could smile honestly and watch the most important people in his life without any weight hiding in the back of his mind.
They walked down the Rattay’s main road to the square and further downhill towards Pirkstein. The street in front of the wooden bridge was devoid of the flimsy tents and haunted faces of Skalitz refugees, and had been for a long time. One of the first things Hans did when he reclaimed his estates was to make sure every single one of them was resettled, either in Pribyslavitz, Rattay or the surrounding villages. By doing that, he not only gained Skalitz folks’ gratitude, but also became immensely popular among Rattay citizens that weren’t too keen on sharing their space with the unfortunate souls. And, as an added bonus, also proved Hanush he indeed could be a responsible ruler.
Henry hadn’t known it was possible, but he felt like he loved him even more ever since that day.
After exchanging few words with the various servants and guards occupying the smaller castle that used to be their home, they circled back up and headed to the stables in the Upper Castle’s courtyard.
“This is where you ran off to, hm?” Henry scolded Mutt with a big goofy smile when he discovered him burrowed deep in a pile of hay, enjoying the warmth provided by the stabled horses. “What a guardian you make, seriously.”
He too, like Pebbles, was getting older and less lively with each passing season. Not that much, Henry believed he still had some good years in him, but he wasn’t the once overly curious and hyperactive puppy either.
“Mutt!” young Heinrich shrieked and got out of his father’s hold to jump into the hay after the dog. Hans didn’t even manage to react.
“I swear, this kid,” he mumbled under his breath with a somewhat worried expression, as his son started petting Mutt and prancing around, the dog barking excitedly at the pup. “If Hanush saw that…”
“I don’t see him anywhere,” Henry assured him with confidence. “He’s probably sleeping off yesterday’s spiced wine.”
Henry knew that Hans was taught – and maybe even conditioned – to behave ‘appropriately for a lord’, meaning never showing something as preposterous as excitement, but Heinrich was just a kid. There was no need for a reprimand, or to worry someone else might see, for that matter. Although, when he thought about it, maybe it wasn’t the real reason Hans looked so agitated.
“Come on, Heinrich,” the young lord called to him and held out his hand. “You wanted to say hi to Cake.”
Henry was honestly astonished by the speed with which Heinrich shot up from the hay, forgetting about Mutt immediately, and grabbing his father’s palm with all the force of the littlest mighty warrior.
He knew Hans tried his best to step up as a father for his son; something he himself was deprived of when growing up. Still, it must have been hard to fully shake off the flaws of his own upbringing, especially when he never really had a parental figure to look up to. The mix of fondness and sheer horror painted on his face when witnessing his son’s youthful deviltry was a true testament to that.
Yes, Heinrich was quite mature for his age, Henry thought, especially if he compared him to his own younger, lazy and often bratty self, but he still couldn’t – and shouldn’t – hide his joyful boyhood from anyone. Henry wished – and he was sure Hans did as well – that it would be the case for many more years to come.
“Cake! Cake!” Heinrich started chanting with all the enthusiasm he’d been lacking these past few weeks, much to Henry’s delight, and with a few confident strides began dragging his astounded father across the stables.
“Slow down, he’s not going anywhere,” Hans tried to calm him down, stumbling behind the surprisingly quick child, but there was simply no use. No power in the world could deter a headstrong, determined Capon, once they set their mind to something.
Henry certainly knew as much.
“See? He’s doing just fine,” Hans assured Heinrich half out of breath and grabbed the little devil before he had a chance to take off again.
Cake was sturdy and very calm chestnut pony, munching on some haystack with all the patience of the world, even as Heinrich – now being held in Hans’s arms – started petting his fluffy furry coat.
“He looks so… hungry,” the boy squealed and turned to his father, looking as seriously concerned as a child so young even could.
“You think?” Henry chuckled and, finally catching up to those two, stepped towards the pony. He wasn’t very small, definitely still too big for little Heinrich, but nothing when compared to Hans’s Caballus, the tall and mighty beast he’d once stolen from Von Bergow when escaping Maleshov. Still, with his bulky constitution and thick fur the horse grew for the winter, he most certainly did not look hungry.
“Um!” Heinrich nodded still and squeezed his lips in an adorable pout.
“Well, I’ll have you know that our stablemaster takes excellent care of all our horses,” Hans assured him. “And he, without a doubt, wouldn’t dare to provide anything but the best care to his lord’s horse, especially in his absence, would he?”
It was obvious that that complicated sentence was still a bit too much for Heinrich to process – given that intense confused but concentrated look on his face – but he couldn’t let anyone know that.
“No?” he looked up to his father, undoubtedly guessing the right answer.
“Very well,” Hans nodded with pride and placed a little peck on Heinrich’s forehead. “And even if that would be the case, Uncle Henry wouldn’t let anyone starve.”
The little lord turned around just in time to see a big piece of carrot vanish in the pony’s mouth, Henry whispering some inaudible mischief into the creature’s ears.
“You know, I really don’t understand how those beasts of yours don’t look like Hanush during the witching hour on the Twelfth Night with the amount of treats you feed them,” Hans chuckled.
“What can I say,” Henry shrugged with a wide grin. “Maybe they have a bottomless stomach like I do. Never once did I have to worry about getting fat from a little snack.”
It was a harmless jab, one Henry didn’t even fully realize making, but it was enough for the overly smart kid to pick up on.
“Uncle Hanush IS fat,” he giggled, totally oblivious of some stuck-up noble etiquette and propriety, and even turned around in his father’s arms to search for Hans’s approval.
“That is so rude,” Hans gasped with his whole face burning and slapped his son on the bum gently, while Henry had to pinch his lips to stop himself from laughing. Crap, Hans was totally gonna have his hide for this.
“Heinrich, you can’t say that!”
“He does have a point, though,” Henry mumbled under his breath, cackling, yet clearly not quietly enough.
“Henry!” the lord shot him a piercing, judgmental look. “Not helping.”
“Heinrich, you can’t say things like that – ever – you understand?” he turned back to his son, still very flustered. “It is rude, inconsiderate, and absolutely inappropriate, especially towards your family.”
Henry swallowed down the remark that he’d heard Hans say the same and much worse before, on many occasions really, and rather held his hands up to apologize.
“My bad, really, I shouldn’t have said that.” He didn’t, really, but that was beside the point.
Spending most of his time with Hans, he truly forgot sometimes how to behave properly in front of nobles – much less a noble child – and it showed. Made him kind of relieved, in some ways, that his father spared him from the life among Bellatores and never legitimised him. Kind of.
Heinrich, looking visibly down after his father’s scolding, also hung his head. “I’m sorry, Pa,” he whispered and buried his face in Hans’s shoulder.
Henry felt a pang of guilt surging in his chest.
“How about we go and watch Captain Bernard train his lads, hm? A true lord should know his soldiers’ routine,” he proposed to the two of them. The banging of dull weapons and wooden shields could be heard across the whole courtyard, reminding Henry of the tourneys that would fill the Upper Castle once again when the snow thaws. He didn’t participate anymore, but still remembered the rush he felt when wielding the honor of victory for the very first time.
Hans, looking undoubtedly tense but hugging his son’s small body against his chest, only nodded.
He didn’t say anything, but Henry could feel he was starting to regret this whole ordeal. It took way too much effort to not feel frustrated; something that caught Henry completely unprepared. He could usually deal with his lord’s brooding just fine; his patience was carved by the many years they’d spent in each other’s company.
At least, outside the stables, breathing was a little bit easier. They stepped towards the railing in the courtyard, and Henrich finally lifted his head once again, his cheeks and forehead instantly turning reddish from the biting frost in the air.
Despite that, the child seemed completely unbothered, forgetting his father’s scolding and excitedly eyeing the training soldiers in the arena.
Captain Bernard stood amongst the lads as usual and certainly didn’t hold himself back.
“My mother has a better posture, and her back broke almost ten winters ago!” was one of the things Henry caught, undoubtedly the least crude.
The aging captain was just observing the youngest guard in his garrison. It must have been his second or third time on duty, judging by the awkwardness with which he held his training weapon, and boyish fear in his eyes when getting slammed by his much more experienced opponent.
Henry didn’t envy him in the slightest bit, being a rookie among seasoned and hardened men of duty was a right pain in the backside.
“I’ll have to apologize to Lord Capon for witnessing your sorry arses! This is how you show off to your liege?”
Right, maybe the training pen wasn’t the best place to escape more etiquette mishaps, but this time, Hans didn’t seem to mind. Henry wasn’t really sure how to feel about that, but he let it slide. Heinrich was happy, giddily squirming in his father’s arms, as the guards continued to bang and poke at each other with pointy sticks, and that was the most important thing.
“My lords,” Bernard reached the railing and greeted them with a small bow of his head. “Henry.”
“Captain,” Henry smirked and nodded towards the lot. “Never even a day off, amirite?”
“Of course,” the captain looked at him pointedly. “A soldier can slack off once he’s grey all over or a fathom underground.”
Henry was sure that remark was aimed right at him; it had been a hot minute since he properly trained with the rest of the garrison, but he was way past caring about such petty manners. No one in Rattay batted an eye at the fact that he, so to speak, held a particular status amidst Lord Capon’s subjects. Even if they had no idea about the real reason.
“I wanna fight too!” Heinrich suddenly squeaked. “Like a knight!”
Strange how quickly a face so sharp and stoic could melt.
“I am looking forward to resuming our lessons, my lord,” the captain bowed courtly to the youngster, a small and private smile sitting on his lips.
Heinrich turned to his father beaming with excitement, his eyes hopeful and equally pleading. But the answer seemed somewhat inevitable.
“Soon, dove,” Hans smiled apologetically. “I promise.”
There was nothing else that could be done; that could change the lord’s mind, even as Henry and Bernard looked at each other with all-knowing glances. They just watched the garrison continue their training, Heinrich resting his small head on Hans’s shoulder, looking all tired and heartsick at his father’s rejection; something that hit Henry deeper than it should have.
“Maybe we could take Mutt for a walk before we head back?” he suggested once he spotted the slight shifting in Hans’s posture, suggesting he’s had enough already and would rather head back to the castle.
“Um!” Heinrich nodded immediately and started wiggling again.
Hans shot him a strange look, one that Henry couldn’t quite identify, but that sent little prickles of uncertainty down his spine. He didn’t say no, though, just watched him like he wasn’t sure if he should reprimand him or not.
“We could,” he nodded at last and not without hesitation. He was about to put Heinrich back on the ground, when the little boy started screaming.
“Mutt! Mutt!” he called across the courtyard with all the might he was capable of. But the cold air must have finally taken its toll, as Heinrich suddenly started coughing from all the yelling. Not too seriously, one might even say it was quite normal during winter, but that seemed to be the last straw for Hans, whose patience was hanging by a thread already.
“Okay, that’s it!” he decided, and scooped his son back up.
“No!” Heinrich yelled, realizing immediately what it meant. “No, Pa, please!”
Henry very rarely saw Heinrich throw a fit, but there wasn’t really a better word for what started unravelling in front of him. Hans held him firmly, the small child had no real chance against him, but that didn’t mean he didn’t go down without fighting. He was screeching his lungs out, kicking and hitting his father like a rabid bunny, and making such a scene that everyone in the courtyard stopped what they were doing and glanced either curiously or very uncomfortably towards them.
Henry counted himself amongst the second group, that was clear.
“Maybe we can stay a few more minutes,” he tried to interject. “A little cough doesn’t have to—”
“I said that’s it,” Hans interrupted him with a vicious and accusatory glare. “I told you this was a bad idea, but you didn’t listen! We’re going inside.”
“You can’t be serious,” he tried to argue, hurt by the implication that he somehow endangered his son’s health. So much so, that he forgot how he should act towards Hans in front of other people. “I just wanted him to have a good time. He was so miserable these last few days, if you didn’t notice!”
The boy, crying and wiggling in Hans’s arms, definitely pleaded his case, but Hans wouldn’t budge. If there was anything good about this situation, then it was the fact that their argument couldn’t really be heard past Heinrich’s desperate and very loud vocals.
“You don’t tell me how to care of my son,” Hans snickered coldly, his ice blue eyes piercing him like a spear. “I am his father, and I said this is enough!”
Henry felt that a lot deeper than he would have thought. It stung like hell, truth to be told, to be scolded for nothing but his good intentions – by the person that was supposed to stand by him, all the more. But there was nothing he could do about it.
He watched his lord mercilessly drag his son back to the castle without so much as a look back, and he felt a cold sweat washing over his whole body. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, was it? He should’ve—
Well, it didn’t matter anymore. He didn’t dare to look up; he wasn’t sure he could handle the awkward and sorry glances from the folk around. Not right now, and not ever again, he thought bitterly to himself.
The dinner, unsurprisingly, was a gloomy and uncomfortable affair later in the day. No matter that the main cause of his current misery – Lord Pirkstein – was missing now, hiding somewhere within the castle, since he last saw him in that damn courtyard; the distasteful and judging looks that Lady Jitka sent across the table were quite enough.
The whole afternoon, Henry contemplated going to Hans and apologizing, or at least trying to talk about what’s been happening for these past few days, but he never mustered enough courage. Or, truth to be told, not enough true desire to do so, either.
He did speak to Jitka, though, albeit only very briefly; the lady demanding to know why her son – very excited and happy when leaving with them before – was returned to her sniffling and snotty all over, looking as heartbroken as she’d never seen him.
Henry couldn’t come up with a good enough explanation then, of course, guilt and frustration brewing under his skin, so he just hung his head and apologized to her. Obviously, that didn’t seem to satisfy the lady, hence the piercing and accusing glances he got from her now.
Hanush though, sitting at the head of the table, seemed as oblivious as always, enjoying his rich, spiced wine and freshly baked meat pies the Rattay’s head cook was famous for.
Henry didn’t plan on spending the whole evening listening to this dreadful silence and his loud chewing.
“Sir, if I may,” he spoke up and waited for Hanush’s short nod. “Would you happen to know when my father’s planning to come? Or if we should expect him at all?”
Before, he hadn’t really wanted to dig more into this sore subject, but after today, he couldn’t imagine anything worse could happen.
The stocky man swallowed down a huge mouthful and chuckled. “Yeah, yeah, we should, he said so himself. I guess he’s just holed up there in… Well, forgot the town’s name, it’s near Jičín, I think, some little backwater.”
“And you said he’s visiting some—some lady there?”
Lord, it felt so strange to even say that out loud. Strangely hurtful, too. He reached for his own cup of wine, just to flush the oddity down.
“As far as I know, aye. I don’t know her, but they’ve been… mingling for a while now.”
Henry’s fingers tightened around the cup, but he swallowed everything in it not to start drowning. He regretted asking, he really did, suddenly getting more riled up than he’s been before, not really understanding the source of this anger.
He didn’t plan on saying anything more, just to save himself some of his sanity, but the question seemed to loosen Hanush’s tongue.
“To be honest, I think it’s high time, he should have secured himself with someone like that a long time ago. The King’s standing and the whole country are so unstable that a noble marriage and a strong succession of one’s lineage is the best step to make, nowadays. Especially for someone like Radzig, if you ask me.”
Henry, previously almost reddening with all the built-up emotions, suddenly paled like a wilted flower, as the realization finally dawned on him. It was in line with Hanush’s person; to say a thing like that in front of Radzig’s well known but still illegitimate bastard, truly.
But before he or Lady Jitka – who now glanced a lot more sympathetically towards Henry, forgetting her previous grudge – the door of the Upper Castle’s dining room burst open, Hans finally stepping in.
“Ah, there he is,” Henry heard Hanush’s sarcastic scoff, but didn’t even make a move to look towards his lord.