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His spot upon a grassy hill just beneath a tree was his solace away from the hustle and bustle enchantment everyone seemed to be under. It wasn't the business that filled him somberly however, it was the burning ache in his chest, boiling anger that burned beneath his skin. He had kept it hidden for so long, an air of nonchalance following him as he did his duties, every task, every swing of his sword in the name of his beloved Hans.
Yet he couldn't pretend anymore, not since Hans kissed him and awoken the desire he felt, the feelings he tried to fight. The moment had been the happiest of his life, the realization that what he felt wasn't wrong, that Hans felt it too. He had Hans now, at least in dark corners or locked rooms, but the wedding was haunting him, driving him mad with anger. He was ashamed over the thoughts he had, the downright cruel things he thought he'd do to a bouquet of flowers that some maiden brandished for the upcoming ceremonies. Henry wanted to rip the blooms asunder, tear them apart, he saw red, his heart beat so fast. Jealousy was a monster, one that grew in power, one that grew within and it had buried its sharp claws into his heart.
His anger was still heightened, fists curled so tightly at his side and shaking as he forced a goodbye to his fellow squires. Henry prided himself on the self control he showed, giving off an air of calmness when in reality he wanted to scream and kick. He wasn't a noble, he didn't have training in dealing with people, he was a blacksmith's son, always will be, and back then his father had always commented on his lack of social graces. Hot tempered then, even more so now in secret.
He'd suffer in silence, it's why he needed the escape, a moment to feel his anger beneath a shady tree, to pout and deal with the burning rage that was only deafened by the shear heartache he was feeling. Hans's intended was unknowingly plucking his heart from his chest, she was innocent in all this, he knew that logically, and yet all he could picture was the still beating organ being ripped from beneath his ribs, leaving him empty.
Hot tears flood his vision, a deep hoarse breath through his mouth fills the air around him. Was it mature to want to beat his fists bloody against the tree he was leaned against? Was it healthy? A welcomed coping mechanism? How did one even deal with heartbreak? Did he even want to deal with it? Hans was his, he knew that, he'd been his ever since that damned day they went hunting together and their fucking hearts entwined from that day forward. His entire life was dedicated to him, he'd die for him, almost had plenty of times.
The idea of anyone touching his Hans was killing him from the inside out, a festering sickness turning him into some conniving villain, thinking such destructive thoughts about innocent parties and a wedding of convenience. He'd become a monster in a second if he listened to his heart and not his brain, he'd declare himself a sodomite, kiss his beloved and beat everyone who got in their way to a pulp. He was supposed to be a good man, someone who helped others, and yet why was he here thinking these dark thoughts?
Was it only human to want to protect what he loved? He'd never act on such thoughts, but to feel them, was it normal? Was his frustration over being in love with a man and not being allowed to embrace it invalidated?
The tears were now escaping his eyes, marking hot streaks down his cheeks and into his stubble and he doesn't go to wipe them away. This was the worst part, when the anger subsided a little and he was left with devastation, an emptiness that he had only felt once before when his parents died. Somehow losing Hans felt worse. He had him, had him now. How long would he? What if Hans loved his bride? What if Hans didn't need him anymore? Love can come and go, that's what many people say.
Henry knew he'd never love anyone the way he loved Hans, but he wasn't the one getting married. Hans could very well grow tired of the secret, of the stolen moments. He could begin to love her more.
It'd kill him, Henry knew that it would, perhaps he was being dramatic, but he'd die from heartbreak, he was sure of it. Just grasp as his chest and fall over into ruin if it meant he lost him. Romantic, a real fucking poet.
When an actual mournful sob climbs it's way out of his throat Henry is ready break down into hysterics when that damned voice calls out for him and he's immediately wiping at his cheeks, it felt as if his heart plummeted into his stomach.
“Henry! There you are!” Hans's voice is so light, the sound of it filled Henry with so much affection, it almost overtook the negative feelings storming within. How just one smile from Hans was enough to cure him, it was how he knew he was the one, that Hans was it for him.
“I have been looking everywhere for --” Hans's face fell once Henry looks up at him, and the shame was back in full force. Seeing that beautiful smile warp to concern hurt, he never wanted to be the reason for Hans to look like that. “Henry? What's wrong?” The lord was immediately on his knees in front of him, grabbing at him, those familiar hands, warm eyes checking him over.
Henry tenses, looking past him for prying gazes and Hans immediately scoffs. “No one is around, Henry. Now tell me what's wrong, you look terrible. Who hurt you?”
What a jest of an inquiry, Hans didn't hurt him, not intentionally, but Hans was the source of his pain, he wouldn't be feeling like this if it wasn't for him. In response Henry stares up at him, and he gets to watch in terror as the realization dawns on Hans's face.
“Henry--”
“Don't, Hans. I've already punished myself enough. I know this is wrong for me to be reacting like this.”
"I don't want to get married, I told you that . . . but I have to." Despite his fears of Hans scolding him, his lord's tone only softens. “I thought you understood the situation.”
“Of course I understand!” Henry barks back, fresher tears prickling at his vision. “If I didn't understand I'd be in jail for harming everyone planning the fucking wedding! I'm so fucking angry, I'm a monster, it's taking all I have to not lose it over this!”
The widening of Hans's eyes hurt, but Henry was quickly thinking that maybe it was for the best, if he disgusted Hans enough with the brutality of his thoughts he'd make a clean break. Disappear and wallow in his pain before dying, Hans could marry, live his life, be happy even.
“You're not a monster, Henry.”
“You don't get it. I wanted to cut open a girl delivering flowers. I want to pummel everyone's face in that dares congratulate you. What sort of man wants to enact violence on people for just being kind and thoughtful?”
“And you think I don't want to lodge an arrow into every woman that sets her gaze on you? That I don't feel the need to burn a village to the ground because someone touches your arm too long and I can't do anything about it? The last time one of the bathmaids blushed at you I was so angry I nearly bolted from the tub and made a scene. I wanted to drown her.” Hans's angry tone surprised Henry, the same jealous burn dancing in the heat of his gaze that Henry felt, it was comforting, yet still did very little to ease his own demons.
“It's not the same.”
“I fucking know it's not the same. But don't call yourself a monster, because the thoughts I have at the idea of anyone touching you, even wanting you would make me one too, and do you think me a monster?”
Fucking Hans had him there, Hans wasn't a monster, he was light, he was everything good in the world. “No. Never.” Hot air expels from his nostrils, and he glares pointedly away from Hans, ashamed at his thoughts, ashamed at Hans finding him like this.
Of course Hans doesn't drop the matter, and his palm had to find his way to his cheek in a tender touch. A balm for his aches both physical and mental, Henry leans into the touch, the warmth, anger melting away, sorrow remaining.
Was there ever any doubt that Hans would notice? The man knew him intimately, could read him, sense what he felt. They were of one heart, at least that what Henry wanted, what he felt.
“It's not just your anger over the wedding is it? Tell me, please.”
Hans could get him to do anything, that much was clear from the moment they bonded. He was a loyal squire to his lord through and through. “I'm scared.”
Hans doesn't prompt for more, only stares at him in a spellbinding manner, the palm on his cheek dropping to his shoulder, the offered squeeze egging him on.
“I'm scared of losing you.” Henry goes to avert his gaze, no desire to see Hans's reaction to his weakness only to be started into staring at him again when Hans laughs.
“Don't mock me!” Henry counters, cheeks flushed a deep crimson, one that reaches his ears.
“I'm not! I'm just relieved over how much of an idiot you are.” Hans teases affectionately, now his fingers were reaching up to brush through Henry's hair and while he wanted to pull away and pout over Hans laughing, the gentleness in his touch and the saccharine soaked tone he used kept him still. It was all he could do, stare up at his lord with surprise, utterly fallen for him.
“Henry, I admitted to how I felt first. I kissed you first, how could you ever think you'd lose me? Fuck, I went on and on about Lancelot and Galehaut, likening them to us. Two knights so devoted to one another that one would follow the other to the grave.”
Henry hadn't forgotten, he replayed the memory constantly, it fueled him in battle, it soothed him at night. The romance of it all made him feel alive, he knew immediately that they were just like those famed knights. He'd follow Hans into death if he lost him, and Hans admitting first that he wouldn't survive if he didn't come back to him . . .
“Marriage can change you.” Henry mutters, at this the rage and jealousy he felt were long gone, now he was clay in Hans's hands, something tangible and malleable that his lord can do with as he pleased. He could break his heart, he'd let him if it made Hans happy.
“Not this Never this. I may grow to care for my wife, but believe me, Henry. I will never love her, at least not in the way I love you. Don't you get that if it were allowed I'd be married to you right this instant? Status and us being men wouldn't stop me from making you mine for all to see. Don't you know how much I love you? How much I need you?” Hans was still sifting his fingers through Henry's hair and the squire couldn't deny how good it felt, not just because of the soothing strokes, but that it was Hans, and his words were fueling him with the hope and knowledge he needed.
Hans was correct, Henry was an idiot. Lost in his own jealousy that he forgotten that it was Hans who took a chance first.
Henry never would have been brave to make the first move, and he'd forever be thankful his lord took the plunge for both of them.
“I'm sorry.”
Hans doesn't reply right away, far too busy pressing their lips together in a firm and needy kiss, the grip he had on Henry's hair tightening, and even though the kiss doesn't last long, Henry returns it fully, he chases it when Hans pulls away, drinking in the sight of his beloved's rosy cheeks.
“Don't be sorry, I need you to be confident in what we have. In how I feel about you. I may never get to marry you, Henry, but you have to know in all the ways that matter, I am yours and dammit, and you are mine. I will love you until we both take our final breaths, I will make it decreed that we are to be buried beside one another I don't care, our fucking souls will be entwined, we'll spend forever together in the afterlife because that is what we share.”
It's everything Henry needed to hear, he knew the wedding would still destroy him, he knew he'd still feel the anger he had whenever he had to see Hans walk hand in hand with his bride, but he also knew that when their eyes locked they'd know the truth. Hans felt it too, they belonged together, they were just like Lancelot and Galehaut. Life wasn't worth living without Hans at his side, Heaven didn't exist unless he was there with Hans.
Henry's arms wrap around Hans, pulling him flush against him and he's smiling dumbly once Hans melts into him, tears prickling at his vision once more, this time out of the delight and love he felt. A surge of happiness now that fears are soothed and Hans was there, he understood, he felt the same way. They were made for one another.
Hans is kissing him, wiping at the tears with the pads of his thumbs, his own eyes were wet yet he's smiling so brightly, radiant as the sunshine in his hair, blue eyes like a pool of water yet warm in expression. The most beautiful thing Henry has and will ever see.
The trail of kisses ends with a final one against his lips that felt very much like a promise, a signed decree, and when Hans pulls back it's just so Henry had free reign to bump their noses together in a matter that actually makes Hans laugh so joyfully, the most beautiful of music.
“I love you, m'lord.” Henry admits, this time allowing his fingers to brush through Hans's hair.
“And I love you, idiot, my Henry. Now and always. I am yours, and you are mine until the end of time.”