ostensoria
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He is pressing the wooden blade to Hans' throat. There's no danger of a cut marring that pale aristocratic flesh, but with only a little more weight from Henry's hand, the pressure could be enough to choke him. The wooden blade smears the mud on his skin. It looks almost as if someone's already drawn a gash across his neck. False blood from a false blade.
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Henry trains himself toward a new purpose.
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- Part 3 of Hansry fics
Bookmarked by ostensoria
15 Dec 2025
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"Are you cold?" Henry asked.
Without armor, in hose and gambeson, he was still an imposing figure: tall and broad, hands stained with dirt and blood, jaw stubbornly stiff. His bare feet were a shock of white in the dirt. He held his helm with both hands, embracing the metal into his belly. His hair was damp with sweat. There was another string of bruises on his throat, shaped like two wide thumbs.
Hans looked away. The tunic around Henry's knee had darkened. Blood was trickling into the dirt.
Hans kills a man, prepares for a wedding, and tries to do at least one thing right.
(Or: five times Hans and Henry didn't share a bed, and one time they did.)
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For once, Hans Capon, Lord of Pirkstein, is at a complete and utter loss for words.
He squeezes his eyes shut tight. He is a failure. He will die here, alone, unloved, a disgrace upon his family’s name. And Henry will die hating him.
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A retelling of the night Henry leaves for reinforcements.
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When Henry found out one of the biggest tournaments in Bohemia would be held in Kuttenberg in a couple days he decided to sign up. As a faceless black knight.
After all, Hans was busy charming local lords and he had nothing better to do.
What he didn't expect was that the black knight would catch his lord's attention. Nor that he wouldn't be able to stop himself from responding.
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Flower crowns!
“If you loved me as much as you do her,” Hythlodaeus quipped aloud, tiny sandwich already in his mouth. A butterfly perched on his nose. “I wonder what you would be inspired to create for me.”
Hades glowered at him. “A cloud of stinging gnats.”
“Charming.” Hythlodaeus beamed, passing a look to her. “He is in one of his moods again today.”
“And we will do our utmost to get him out of it, will we not, dear Daeus?”