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Hans sat by the window in his and Henry's room, staring out at the bustling courtyard below. The familiar sounds of Rattay’s daily life drifted up to him. The clatter of armor, the chatter of servants, and the occasional laughter from guards sharing a jest. Yet none of it reached him as deeply as it once had. A month had passed since Heinrich officially took on the mantle of Lord Capon II, and though Hans had willingly handed over the title, he now found himself adrift, caught between relief and an unsettling emptiness.
He sipped from his wine glass, the rich red liquid catching the late afternoon light. It wasn’t that he regretted his decision. Far from it. Heinrich was ready or at least, as ready as anyone could be for such a monumental responsibility. No, the source of Hans’ unease lay elsewhere. For the first time in decades, there were no petitions to hear, no disputes to mediate, no alliances to broker or enemies to strategize against. He was free. Free to do… what exactly?
Henry entered the room quietly, carrying a tray with fresh tea and pastries. His movements were unhurried, deliberate, as if sensing the weight of Hans’ thoughts before either of them spoke. Setting the tray down on the table near the window, he glanced at Hans, his sharp eyes taking in the faint furrow of his brow and the distant look in his gaze.
“You’ve been quiet today,” Henry remarked casually, pouring himself a cup of tea. “More so than usual.”
Hans sighed, setting the wine glass aside. “I’ve just been thinking,” he said after a moment, his voice tinged with uncertainty. A rarity for a man who had spent most of his life commanding armies and ruling lands with unwavering authority. “About everything. About nothing. I don’t know.”
Henry raised an eyebrow but didn’t press immediately. Instead, he settled into the chair opposite Hans, cradling his teacup in both hands. “Thinking can be dangerous,” he teased lightly, earning a weak chuckle from Hans. When the silence stretched again, however, Henry leaned forward slightly, his tone softening. “What’s troubling you?”
Hans hesitated, his fingers tracing the rim of his wine glass absentmindedly. “It’s strange,” he began slowly, searching for the right words. “For years, decades, I’ve thought of this moment. Of stepping back, letting someone else shoulder the burden. And yet…” He trailed off, shaking his head as if trying to dislodge the tangled mess of emotions within him.
“And yet?” Henry prompted gently, his piercing gaze never leaving Hans’ face.
“And yet, now that it’s here, I feel… lost.” The admission came out softer than Hans intended, almost like a confession. He looked away, focusing on the view outside the window again, though the scene offered little comfort. “I gave everything to this place, to these people. My entire life has been tied to being Lord of Pirkstein. But now…” He gestured vaguely, encompassing not just the room but the entirety of his existence up until this point. “Now I realize I have no idea how to live without it. Without the constant demands, the endless responsibilities. What does one even do when they’re not needed anymore?”
Henry listened intently, his expression thoughtful. There was no judgment in his eyes, only understanding. After all, he had stood beside Hans through every triumph and every trial, witnessing firsthand the sacrifices the man had made. Not just for his family, but for the realm itself.
“Perhaps,” Henry suggested carefully, “the question isn’t what you do when you’re not needed. Perhaps it’s about rediscovering what makes you happy. Not Lord Hans, not Father Hans, not Mentor Hans. But simply Hans.”
The simplicity of the statement struck a chord deep within Hans, though it also brought a pang of frustration. Rediscover? How could he possibly begin to untangle who he was beneath the layers of duty and expectation? He had been groomed for leadership from the moment he could walk. His identity had always been intertwined with his role. Even if at first he tried to brush off his responsibilities, now to just separate the two felt like... unraveling thread from a tapestry that had taken a lifetime to weave.
“I don’t even know where to start,” Hans admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. The vulnerability in his tone surprised even himself. He prided himself on his strength, his resolve, yet here he was, stripped bare by his own doubts.
Henry smiled faintly, reaching across the table to place a reassuring hand over Hans’. “You don’t have to figure it all out at once,” he said. “Start small. Find joy in the little things. Spend time with your books, take long walks in the garden, teach me something new about history of swordplay.” His attempt at levity coaxed another chuckle from Hans, albeit a reluctant one.
Hans’ gaze softened as he studied Henry’s face, the faint lines around his eyes and mouth only adding to the warmth of that familiar smile. It was a smile that had anchored him through some of the darkest moments of his life. A beacon of steadiness when everything else felt uncertain.
Nearly 27 years ago now. Back then, they were both so different. Hans brash and arrogant, convinced of his own superiority. Henry quiet and guarded, carrying the weight of unimaginable loss after Skalitz burned to the ground.
Now he only remembered it with... He doesn't even know. Guilt, admiration, gratitude? It all tangled together in ways he’d never fully untangled. Even now, looking at Henry, he marveled at how far they’d come from those early days. That scared boy who had lost everything had grown into a man whose strength and resilience inspired awe. And yet, despite all the years between them, there was still an air of mystery about Henry, a depth to him that even Hans couldn’t claim to fully understand.
After a long moment of silence, Hans found himself smiling too, though his expression carried a wistfulness that hadn’t been there before. “You know,” he said finally, his voice tinged with affectionate exasperation, “I’ve known you for almost twenty-seven years, and I still have no idea how you manage half the things you do.”
Henry raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by the comment. “Manage what?” he asked, leaning back slightly in his chair but keeping his teacup cradled in one hand. “Be specific, my lord.”
Hans waved a dismissive hand, ignoring the playful jab at his former title. “Everything,” he replied simply. “All of it. You’re… incredible, Henry. Truly. But it’s not just that.” He paused, searching for the right words. “It’s how vast your interests are. How many things you’ve mastered over the years. Alchemy, blacksmithing, herbalism…” He ticked off each skill on his fingers, his tone growing more animated with every example. “Swordsmanship, horsemanship, reading. I mean, gods above, have you ever met a book you didn’t devour? The list goes on and on.”
Henry chuckled softly, setting his teacup down on the table. “You make me sound like some kind of prodigy,” he said dryly, though there was a hint of pride lurking beneath his modesty. “In truth, most of those skills came out of necessity, not talent.”
“Necessity?” Hans repeated incredulously, leaning forward slightly. “Don’t sell yourself short. Yes, maybe some of it started as necessity, but you didn’t just learn. You excelled. Every single thing you put your mind to, you mastered. Do you realize how rare that is?”
Henry shrugged, though his cheeks flushed faintly at the praise. “Perhaps,” he admitted reluctantly. “But I’ve always believed that mastery isn’t about being the best. It’s about understanding. About seeing the connections between things. Take alchemy, for instance. It’s not so different from swordsmanship, if you think about it. Both require precision, patience, and a willingness to adapt when things don’t go as planned.”
Hans stared at him, momentarily speechless. Leave it to Henry to find philosophical parallels between mixing potions and swinging a blade. “That’s exactly what I mean,” he said after a beat, shaking his head in wonder. “You see the world differently than anyone else I’ve ever met. You take these seemingly unrelated disciplines and weave them into something coherent, something meaningful. And somehow, you make it look effortless.”
“It’s hardly effortless,” Henry countered with a small laugh. “But thank you for the compliment. Though I suspect you’re exaggerating a bit.”
“I’m not,” Hans insisted firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And besides, it’s not just about the skills themselves. It’s about you. The way you approach life. With curiosity, with purpose and... I don't know, you’ve always been like that, even when we first met. Even when you had every reason to give up, you kept going. Kept learning. Kept living.”
The room fell silent again, but this time it wasn’t uncomfortable. Instead, it felt charged with unspoken emotion, the kind that passed between two people who had shared decades of their lives and countless memories. Hans’ words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and for once, Henry didn’t try to deflect or downplay them. He simply sat there, meeting Hans’ gaze with an intensity that spoke volumes.
Finally, after a long pause, Henry broke the silence with a soft, almost teasing remark. “Well,” he said, his lips curving into another one of those smiles, “if I’m such a paragon of virtue, perhaps you should write a book about me someday. ‘The Many Talents of Sir Henry: A Study in Perfection.’”
Hans snorted, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “Oh yes, because nothing screams humility like immortalizing yourself in ink,” he shot back, earning a laugh from Henry. “Besides, if I wrote a book about you, it wouldn’t be called that. It would be something far more fitting.”
“Like what?” Henry challenged, clearly intrigued despite himself.
Hans smirked, leaning back in his chair with a theatrical flourish. “‘How to Be Perfect Without Actually Trying: Lessons from the Most Infuriatingly Competent Man Alive.’”
This time, Henry laughed outright, the sound rich and genuine, filling the room with warmth. “Infuriatingly competent, am I?” he teased, raising an eyebrow. “Careful, Hans. One might think you’re jealous.”
“Jealous?” Hans echoed, feigning offense. “Of course not. Why would I be jealous of someone who can juggle a dozen hobbies while making it look easy? No, no, I’m merely stating facts. Facts that happen to highlight your absurd level of talent.”
The room fell quiet again, the earlier laughter fading into a more contemplative silence. Hans’ expression grew pensive as he gazed at Henry, his thoughts visibly swirling behind his dark eyes. The faint smile that lingered on his lips softened the weight of his introspection, but there was no mistaking the sincerity in his tone when he finally spoke.
“But I mean it, you know,” Hans said, his voice carrying a quiet gravity. “The way you approach life. It’s fascinating. Truly.” He paused, searching for the right words, his fingers absently tracing the rim of his now-empty wine glass. “You’ve always been so… deliberate. So intentional about everything you do. Even back then, when we first met.”
Henry tilted his head slightly, his sharp gaze fixed on Hans with an intensity that made the older man feel both seen and unraveled all at once. There was no impatience in his expression, only calm attentiveness. A silent invitation for Hans to continue whenever he was ready.
Hans sighed, leaning back in his chair and letting his hands rest on the table. His eyes drifted toward the window, where the last rays of sunlight filtered through the panes, casting long shadows across the room. “Before I met you,” he began slowly, his voice tinged with something between nostalgia and regret, “I didn’t have what anyone would call a real life. I was… insufferable. Arrogant. Entitled. A brat, plain and simple.” He gave a self-deprecating chuckle, shaking his head as if trying to dislodge the memories of his younger self. “I acted like I owned the world, like everyone owed me something just because of my name. And gods above, did I pay for it later, but gladly with you already having my back.”
He glanced at Henry, who remained silent, though his piercing gaze never wavered. It wasn’t judgment Hans saw in those eyes. It was understanding. Unwavering, unwavering understanding.
“And then…” Hans continued, his voice softening further, almost nostalgic now. “Then Skalitz burned, and you came into my life. Into our lives.” He gestured vaguely between them, encompassing not just their shared history but the profound impact Henry had made on him from the very beginning. “Everything changed after that. Everything. Too much, maybe, for such a short time. But even amidst all the chaos, the battles, the sieges, the losses, the endless responsibilities, I started to realize something.”
His gaze returned to Henry, locking onto him with a clarity that sent a shiver down Henry’s spine. “Unlike me, you already knew what it meant to live. To survive. You carried this… quiet strength, this resilience, that I couldn’t even begin to comprehend. And you still do.” He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table as he emphasized his next words. “But here’s the thing, Henry. You’ve always seemed to understand peace. True peace. Not the kind that comes from stepping away from duty or responsibility, but the kind that exists within yourself. You fought because you knew that life without a chaos is something worth fighting for. That was your peace.”
Hans trailed off, his voice faltering for the first time since he’d started speaking. For a moment, he looked almost vulnerable, exposed in a way he rarely allowed himself to be. When he spoke again, it was barely above a whisper. “I’ve never known that. Not really. Not until now.”
“For years, decades, I told myself I didn’t have the luxury of thinking about it. Thinking about what it means to live without constantly fighting, scheming, planning. Because I was the Lord. My entire identity was tied to that title, to those obligations. Every decision I made, every move I took. It wasn’t for me. It was for Rattay, for my family, for the people who depended on me. And I don’t regret any of it. Not a single moment. But…” He hesitated, swallowing hard before forcing himself to meet Henry’s gaze once more. “But now? Now that I’m not… now that I’m just Hans again, I realize I have no idea what a peaceful life even looks like. What it feels like.”
The admission hung heavy in the air, filling the space between them with unspoken emotion. Hans’ shoulders sagged slightly under the weight of his own words, as though articulating these thoughts aloud had drained him of some invisible burden. Yet there was also a sense of relief in his posture, a tentative lightness that suggested he’d needed to say this for a long time.
Henry reached across the table, placing a steady hand over Hans’. His touch was warm, grounding, and it drew Hans’ attention back to him immediately. “You don’t have to figure it out alone,” Henry said simply, his voice low but resolute. “Whatever this next chapter holds, whatever shape your peace takes. We’ll find it together. Just like we’ve done everything else.”
Hans chuckled softly, the sound warm and self-deprecating as he shook his head. “Well, well, well,” he began, his tone light but tinged with a familiar fondness, “I always thought I was supposed to be the romantic one between us. The one who could sweep you off your feet with grand gestures or poetic words.” He gave a small, sheepish smile, glancing at Henry before looking away again. “And yet here we are… I’m sitting here rambling like an idiot while you’ve been quietly carrying the weight of everything for years.”
The room grew quieter, the playful edge fading from Hans’ voice as he turned more serious. His hands moved restlessly on the table, fingers brushing against the wood as if searching for something solid to anchor him. After a long pause, he exhaled slowly, his gaze dropping to his lap before he forced himself to look back up at Henry.
“I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately,” Hans admitted, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. “About how… how much you’ve done for me. For us. From the very beginning, really.” He paused, choosing his words carefully, his brow furrowing slightly as though trying to piece together fragments of memory into a coherent whole. “When we first met, you didn’t hesitate. Not once. You adjusted your entire life, your plans, your dreams, all without question, to fight for peace and later... To fight for me. To support me. And it took me… gods above, it took me a good year or two to even fully realize what you were doing. How much you were giving up. How much you kept doing, day after day, without asking for anything in return.”
He stopped there, his jaw tightening briefly as a flicker of embarrassment crossed his features. “I’m ashamed to admit it,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, “but I needed that time to see it. To understand. And even now, knowing all of that…” He trailed off, shaking his head slightly, as if struggling to reconcile the man he had been with the man he wanted to become.
“But now…” Hans said finally, his voice steadying as he leaned forward, his gaze locking onto Henry’s with an intensity that made the younger man straighten slightly in his chair. There was no hesitation this time, no uncertainty in his tone. Only sincerity. “Now I want to ask something of you.”
Henry tilted his head slightly, his sharp eyes narrowing in curiosity as he waited, his expression unreadable but attentive. Whatever he had expected Hans to say, it clearly wasn’t this. Not yet, at least. The silence stretched between them, heavy with anticipation, until Hans finally spoke again.
“Not as a lord,” he clarified, his voice firm despite the vulnerability in his eyes. “Not as a friend, or a stranger, or any of the other roles we’ve played over the years. But as a lover. As your partner.” He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing visibly as he forced the words out. “I want you to teach me how to live.”
The request hung in the air, simple yet profound, its weight settling between them like a stone dropped into still water. For a moment, Henry didn’t respond, his piercing gaze fixed on Hans as if trying to decipher some hidden meaning behind the words. Then, slowly, a faint smile began to spread across his face. A smile that was equal parts amusement and admiration.
“Teach you how to live?” Henry echoed, his tone teasing but laced with warmth. “After all these years, you think I have the answers?”
Hans let out a short, nervous laugh, running a hand through his hair as he shrugged helplessly. “Maybe not all the answers,” he conceded, his lips curving into a wry grin. “But you seem to have figured out a hell of a lot more than I ever did. You’ve always known how to find balance, how to make peace with the world around you. Even when it felt like the world was falling apart. And I…” He hesitated, his voice softening again as he looked down at his hands. “I don’t even know where to start. So I need your help.”
Henry reached across the table then, covering Hans’ restless fingers with his own steady grip. The touch was gentle but grounding, pulling Hans’ attention back to him immediately. When their eyes met again, Henry’s expression had softened, the teasing glint replaced by something deeper, more tender.
“You already know how to live, Hans,” he said quietly, his voice carrying the same quiet certainty that had guided them through so many challenges over the years. “You’ve lived a full life. Perhaps too full, in some ways. What you’re asking for isn’t about learning how to live. It’s about learning how to be. How to let go of the burdens you’ve carried for so long and simply exist. Together. Together with everyone you care for.”
“Henry...” Hans murmured, his gaze never wavering from the younger man’s piercing eyes. “I want… I need…” He hesitated, swallowing hard as if trying to dislodge the lump forming in his throat. Then, exhaling sharply, he forced himself to continue, his voice steadying despite the storm raging within him. “If I’m going to learn how to exist, then I want to do it with you. Not just in fragments, stolen moments when duty allowed me to breathe. But fully. Completely.”
“For twenty-six years, you’ve been my anchor, my sanctuary, my everything. And yet…” His voice broke momentarily, and he looked down, unable to meet Henry’s gaze for a fleeting second. When he spoke again, it was softer still, almost reverent. “And yet, I’ve never truly given myself to you the way I should have. The way you deserve.”
Henry’s expression softened, but there was an intensity in his eyes that mirrored Hans’ own vulnerability. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t try to fill the silence. Instead, he simply waited, his hands resting lightly on Hans’ hips now, offering silent support while Hans found the courage to say what needed to be said.
“I don’t know what kind of man I’ll become without the title, without the responsibilities,” Hans admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. “But I do know this. I love you, Henry. More than anything. More than life itself. And I will burn in hell even brighter if I won't spend the rest of my life proving it. Because loving you is the only thing that has ever made sense to me. The only thing that feels real. The thing I chose everyday.”
Hans leaned forward slightly, closing the small distance between them until their foreheads touched. The gesture was intimate, tender. A silent promise wrapped in the warmth of their shared breaths. “So yes,” he whispered, his lips brushing faintly against Henry’s as he spoke. “Teach me how to live. Teach me how to exist with you. Because I want to spend every second of this new life, not mine, but ours, loving you. Fully, completely, without restraint. Without fear.”
The air between them crackled with unspoken emotion, charged with decades of love, longing, and sacrifice. For a moment, neither of them moved.
Finally, Henry let out a soft laugh, the sound warm and rich with affection. “You ridiculous man,” he teased gently, though his eyes gleamed with unshed tears. “You’ve always been enough for me. Always.” His hands slid up Hans’ arms, coming to rest on either side of his face. “But if you’re determined to learn, then I suppose I can’t refuse such an earnest request.”
Hans smiled faintly, his thumb tracing the curve of Henry’s jaw. “Good,” he said, his tone lighter now, though still laced with sincerity. “Because I intend to be your most devoted student.”
Henry chuckled again, leaning in until their noses brushed. “Then prepare yourself, my lord,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a teasing whisper. “Because lesson one starts tonight.”
With that, he closed the remaining distance between them, pressing his lips to Hans’ in a kiss that was both tender and possessive. It wasn’t rushed or desperate. It didn’t need to be. They had all the time in the world now. Time to learn. Time to spend together. Time to live.