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Hans moved his foot down Henry's armored torso, soon reaching the already forming heat in between his legs. He gave a slight push, Henry remained still. Then he gave another, and another, and Henry dared to let out a faint gasp, but still didn't object. Didn't move away.
"Sakra. We can't do this here," Hans huffed out, removing his foot and turning his head away.
"Tell that to your foot," Henry bit back, rightfully. "I didn't even say anything," he concluded, and the noblelad almost seemed bothered.
The hunt had been quite nice that day. Not long, but nice. The sun was too pleasingly warm to not sit for a while and enjoy it as the men rested their tired muscles on the soft grass.
"Well, I like to imagine you want me all the time and can't restrain yourself. Even if you don't dare speak it out loud," Hans shrugged, leaned down on his elbow, picking uselessly at the green blades while looking in the distance.
Henry chuckled, sitting not too far, and shook his head in that way of his, when he was amused or short for words, or both. Hans hated himself for not resisting the urge to turn and look at it.
"And that I do," he replied simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
The air was nice. The wind was getting slightly more insistent by the minute, as if slowly trying to make itself known. Moving leaves and their smells along with it.
And so Henry fell deep in thought. About how hard and for how long he had been fighting his feelings, before Suchdol happened.
The way It had been getting harder and harder.
"Don't get attached, don't memorize it. The smile when he's drunk. The smile when he's feeling full of himself. The smile when he sees a pretty wench at the bathhouse, doing her job and laughing at his stupid jokes. Out of pity, most likely.
The smile when he sees you.
Let it go, don't let it take root inside your fragile heart and grow into a beautiful plant of everything you can never have.
You keep nourishing it, you'll see how hard it'll be when the time comes to eradicate it."
He had been practicing self-restraint like never before. And he had been quite good at it. More or less. Surely, it had been a relief when Hans had kissed him first in that cramped room in Suchdol. He had known he had been reciprocated. And he had wondered for how long, but never truly asked.
And still, it had made things more difficult somehow.
Hans was to take Jitka of Kunstadt's hand in marriage and produce an heir. At first, in Henry's head, it had seemed like a simple noble duty like any other, despite all the whining and complaining on the lord's part. But the more Henry thought about it, the more his insides twisted and entangled together in a terribly painful way. He had felt the need to whine, too. He had experience losing people he loved, that is for certain. And he had more or less made peace with the fact he would never see them again.
But he was still to be Hans' squire. Was he ready to lose someone who would constantly be within reach?
He had planned to leave. The mere thought made him paralyzed, took air out of his lungs, but he believed it was the best option. To fight the pain, he had started to discipline himself all over again.
"Save yourself the pain, Henry. And if you won't do it for you, do it for him.
You've saved him countless times, surely you can do it this one time, too.
Save him once more.
Let it be the last thing you do for him. The one thing you've always done best, even when you almost failed at it.
After all, you're not invincible, Henry. You're not immortal, and you're surely not the smartest, nor the strongest.
But you see it with your own two eyes by now, don't you? You see yourself clearly in the way he sees you. And you know it well: in those eyes, no one else is better to be Hans Capon's page. No one in the entire world. It's true, it has to be.
So then let it be the thing he'll remember you by instead of the sad, remorseful lover who could never find peace in being the simple squire standing at the side of his lord, watching over him, his tender wife, and a small brat running around in the innocent, blissful ignorance of never knowing the real reason behind his name.
Because, after all, Henry of Skalitz can be many things: a blacksmith, a knight, a fighter, an adventurer. But only one is certain, certain until the day he draws the last breath. The one thing no one but him can be.
He is Hans Capon of Pirskstein's page. And as such, he will protect the lord.
At any cost."
There were several possibilities in which he could have planned his escape: he had thought about leaving in the night, maybe he could've left the lord a letter, tell him he was terribly sorry. Or maybe he could have tried to explain himself properly. It undoubtedly would've hurt the Lord's feelings immensely, but he had hoped he would understand. If not immediately, maybe eventually. Another possibility was trying to tell Radzig. Maybe he could come up with some sort of excuse as to why he had to leave so suddenly.
Thankfully, though, Henry had soon realized it was all a great deal of horseshit.
Hans Capon had majorly contributed to that realization, obviously.
For a time, in the period the two of them were getting quite close prior to the Trosky mission being assigned to them, Henry had a particularly hard time understanding just how lonely the nobleman truly was before the blacksmith walked into his life. And when the notion had properly found its place in Henry's mind, it wasn't wishful thinking or a way to flatter himself. It was simply the honest truth.
That didn't mean it couldn't be sad, though. It was plenty sad. Maybe it was simply too sad for Henry to believe.
"There is no possible way I'm the first friend you've ever had."
"Yes, there is. And you're being a total arsehole! Not everyone was born with the luxury of going around town just- doing shit with other lads! Every time I go by the tavern, I get scolded like I'm some kid! And peasants are always tiptoeing around me!"
"Are you seriously talking about not having fucking luxuries? You?"
"Oh, go boil your arse, Henry! You know what I mean!"
"Hahaha! Aye, aye, I'm just yanking your pizzle. It's just... Hard to believe, I suppose. You're very likeable, once one gets to know you the proper way. You're plenty charming and smart, too."
He had said it casually, that time. He hadn't necessarily meant to be exceptionally sweet or nice for the sake of being it. Henry had simply told the truth. In his life, he had never really felt the need to perform for others, or say pleasentries for the sole purpose of making people happy; he simply always said what he thought in the most honest and transparent way he could.
Maybe that's why Hans' ears had gone so red that time, and why he had had a hard time meeting Henry's gaze for a handful of seconds, as soon as he had heard the words. Henry had known it was all good and well when not long after the noblelad had hit his shoulder playfully, adding something like: "Is that what you say when you court ladies too, blacksmith's boy? Pathetic!"
It would be a lie to say Henry hadn't already started to harbor feelings for the other lad at this time, but he had surely not meant for it to come out. He had hoped it hadn't come out.
Nonetheless, he had been delighted at the noble's reaction. At the way even the biting remark couldn't hide the pink that still tinted his cheeks, even after he had finally turned to look at him. He had been happy, thinking to himself Hans had been pretty, preserving that very picture in the safety of his mind. He had been happy Hans knew him well already. He had known Henry had only spoken his mind openly, and truly meant what he had said.
And the blacksmith had been giddy at the notion he simply needed to be himself unfiltered to still feel so treasured. It was true before and it was still true after Suchdol. It made him feel safe. It made him feel secure in a world that could have their reality collapse around them any second. Despite all of that, he could be sure of this one thing. And it was that Hans Capon loved him.
So in the end, it was all for the better that Henry had changed his mind. And how could he not? Hans Capon loved him. He would never be better off without him.
The truth is that in every single scenario of his leaving he fabricated in his head, Hans Capon was crying at some point. And for some reason, that sight alone made it difficult to plan properly, to decide what to do next, when that face would already be out of sight, never to be seen again. That face which cursed his dreams had been enough for Henry to call the whole plan quits. Of course, he had mentally slapped himself for being so weak, so quick to rethink it all.
But when it came to Hans Capon, that is how his mind worked. He ought to punish that bastard for the devilish tricks he played on him even when he wasn't around. And he had wondered why, why it was so easy for that Capon to simply desrupt his plans completely, in such a simple and silly way.
But the answer he soon found was just as simple, and it was that he loved Hans Capon, truly and sincerely. He loved him unconditionally and irreparably.
He couldn't even bring himself to care enough about the sin it was. It felt heavenly to just know he was loved back by him, the same exact way. How could it ever be wrong? How could it ever be better for the two of them to be apart? It never could. It wouldn't have made any sense. And it was foolish to even think that in the first place.
Maybe Hans would get married, get a brat to run around and a wife who'd probably demand his attentions, every now and then.
But then Henry would have his own forge at the castle to work in peace, and he'd have his very own private room.
Hans Capon would have the key to that room, and Henry the key to his heart once they were alone in it. Protected in the safety of the night.
They could still go hunting together, spend the night drinking, then in the morning lay on the grass of a soft meadow, enjoying the slow wind passing by, simply talking, and maybe touching. Just like they were doing right now. And they would be careful, very careful. For the sake of their love.
Even though, sometimes, it would be nice to take the risk, when unable to quench the desire.
And sometimes It would be nice to be sweet sincerely, but also with the intention to see the lovely expression it caused. It would be nice.
"You do what?" Hans asked absently, brows furrowed.
Henry quickly snapped back to reality and moved his attention to the lord, turning his head towards him.
"Want you all the time," he replied quickly, as he was already getting up to move closer to the lord. Hans smiled, while rolling his eyes. But his cheeks still turned pink. Henry sat closer to him, thighs and knees pressing together. His hand moved on Hans' leg, sliding upwards.
"I just said we can't do it here. We're outside, you oaf," Hans fought weakly, voice lowered, though his thigh pressed closer.
"We are..." Henry glanced down between Hans' legs. "I'll be quick. Let me touch you," he simply reassured, mouth hot against his ear.
Hans groaned and threw himself down on the grass, now laying down completely. It left Henry dumbfounded for a moment.
"Get on with it..." Hans conceded with an annoyed huff, but Henry knew. He was still red in the face. Henry smiled, took a quick look around, and untied Hans' hose.
The wind was nice, the sun bright and the grass still soft.
And Henry was glad. Oh so glad, that he had stayed.