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Prague - 1419 – in the aftermath of a battle
The tent was dim, only the flickers of dying candles casting shadows on the walls. Bloodied hands trembling, Henry kneeled beside Hans’ cot, the thick, metallic scent of blood heavy in the air. He was covered in it, his own, some of it Hans’, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the man lying before him.
The healer had just left, shaking his head, unable to help. The soft, desperate sound of Hans’ laboured breathing was the only noise now, save for the distant sounds of the encampment outside. Then, as if someone told the soldiers there needed to be peace, the sounds outside quietened till there was silence.
Henry’s heart pounded in his chest as he looked down at Hans, his eyes wide with frantic hope. "You’ll be okay," he whispered, almost to himself. "You’ll be fine. We’ll get through this. You just need rest, I-"
But Hans’s voice, weak and ragged, cut through his words. “We both know it’s the end, Henry.”
Henry froze, the blood draining from his face as his body stiffened. He shook his head violently, his breath quickening. “No,” he whispered, a frantic denial in the pit of his stomach. "No, Hans. You’re going to be fine. You just need to rest, that’s all"
Hans, barely able to move, lifted a trembling hand and reached for Henry’s. With the slightest of smiles, he whispered, “You’ve been by my side all this time… this is the end for me”.
“I won’t let you die,” Henry choked out, his voice cracking, his hands trembling as they clutched at Hans' hand. He was shaking, his world unravelling. "I can't let you go, Hans. Not like this. You can't leave me, you’re all I have left”.
Hans’s pale lips parted into a soft, painful smile, and he whispered, "It’s alright, Henry. It’s okay. You will be okay."
Henry’s grip tightened, his face falling. He shook his head again, faster now. "I can’t live without you," he said, the words tumbling out in a rush, raw and desperate. "I can’t. I-"
Hans’ eyes, still sharp despite the growing haze of the beyond, looked at him with a mix of sadness and understanding. He gave Henry’s hand a final squeeze, weak but steady. “You must live, for I have one last favour to ask of you”.
Henry’s voice broke, his chest heaving. “I can’t. Don’t ask me to-”
"Hush," Hans said, his voice quieter now, but steady. "This is something you must do, for me, for Hal." He took a slow, painful breath, and Henry leaned in closer, listening with everything in him. "Promise me you’ll watch over him. Don’t let the nobility turn him into a pawn. Don’t let Jitka spoil him. He needs to learn… to understand the common people, to be good and just. He already takes after you in so many ways, so you must continue to raise him to be like you, to be wise. Only when he is ready… only then can you think about joining me”.
Henry’s heart twisted as he considered Heinrich, and his hands shook even harder, the weight of his promise crushing down on him. “I… I can’t live without you, Hans. I can’t go on without you,” he hissed in a moment of weak selfishness.
Hans smiled softly, the pain of the moment mixing with the warmth of their years together. “If you love me… then you will do this for me. Promise me, Henry.”
Tears blurred Henry’s vision, but he didn’t look away. “Bastard- I do love you”, he sniffled “I-I promise,” he said, his voice raw with emotion, his lips trembling.
Hans chuckled faintly, a sound full of warmth despite the pain. "I love you always, my Henry." His hand rested softly in Henry’s, as if he could hold on to him forever.
Henry held his hand, refusing to let go, pressing his forehead against his lover’s. The world outside seemed to fade, and in that brief moment, there was only the two of them.
“I’ll see you again, Henry,” Hans whispered, his voice barely audible now, the life slowly leaving him.
And with that, Hans Capon, his lover, his best friend, his heart, was gone.
Henry stayed there, silent, his hand clasped tightly around Hans’s, unwilling to let go.
The night grew still around them, but Henry’s world had irrevocably shattered. How could he do anything without Hans?
Prague – 2014, in Warhorse Studios’ Motion Capture Studio
The studio smelled of paint and gaffer tape. Bright rig lights hung above the polished black floor, casting reflections onto the white walls that boxed in the motion capture stage. Crew members moved quietly around the space, tightening cables and adjusting the suits on mannequins. It wasn’t quite silent, but there was a tension in the air, like something important was about to begin.
Tom McKay was already there, standing with hands tucked into his pockets, watching one of the crew test a reflective marker on a shoulder strap. He wore jeans and a faded t-shirt, and his expression was calm, like he’d done this before.
Luke stepped in quietly, taking in the surreal sight. He hadn’t expected it to feel so… exposed. The stage looked like a void, all blank space and invisible promise.
Then he saw him, Tom. The face he’d looked up more than once since getting the role. The voice he’d heard briefly over the phone weeks ago, low and steady, wishing him luck and saying he looked forward to meeting.
Tom turned, eyes locking on his, and a smile pulled at his mouth, easy and genuine.
“Luke,” he said warmly, stepping forward with a hand outstretched.
Luke took it, his nerves dissolving into something quieter. Steadier. “Good to finally meet you, Tom”
Tom’s handshake was firm, his palm warm, and Luke felt an unexpected wave of comfort. There was nothing rehearsed or stiff about the older actor. Just calm, open energy. Tom looked every bit the English actor far from home, but fully at ease. “Likewise. You ready for this madness?”
Luke glanced at the wires, the suits, the digital skeletons on the monitors stuck in the T-pose position. “I think so.”
Tom shrugged with a light laugh. “You’ll figure it out, I’ll help you. It all feels a bit more real now, doesn’t it?”
Luke nodded, “Yeah. I’ve never done anything like this before.”
Tom gave a gentle smile, “It’s mad at first, but you get used to it. I’ve got your back.”
Something in the exchange, brief though it was, settled Luke in a way he hadn’t expected. There was a weight to Tom’s presence, not just from experience, but from the way he looked directly at him. As though the world quieted a bit when he spoke.
Luke couldn’t place why or how, but he felt like he could do anything as long as Tom was with him.