Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Congratulations, Capon. You wanted to be useful, you can be useful.”

That was how it all started. With Žižka’s almost cheerful words.

The plot to free the king was afoot and John of Liechtenstein was more hopeful than usual. They just needed one thing first.

A ledger.

Just one small book currently rumoured to be in Prague in a palace of an important noble who was gearing up to throw his annual masquerade ball.

“Me?” Hans pointed at himself in astonishment. “How so?”

“We need to get to that damn ball and apparently, according to Katherine, one of the invited nobles looks very much like you.”

“Oh, am I impersonating someone?” the blond asked excitedly. “And going to a famous ball? Count me in.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Henry interrupted them. “Alone?”

“No, you doofus,” Katherine waved him off. “Like we don’t know that you would try to follow him. There’s also a guest that looks a bit like you. Thankfully he is a lord of some smaller place and doesn’t travel often. Not a lot of people are familiar with him.”

“Ah. Very well then,” he said, not caring about much else. 

She shook her head at them.

“How are we going to do it, though?” Hans asked, scratching his chin. “We will need to stop those two from entering, no?”

“Oh, Hynek and Kubyenka are already on it,” Žižka assured them.

“So,” Hans drawled, looking into the cell completely unimpressed. “You people kidnapped them and now we are supposed to steal their clothes and lives?”

“What do you mean ‘You people’?” Kubyenka protested. “You are part of us too.”

“Fuck me, that one does actually look like you, Capon,” Hynek commented, looking between the man in the cell and Hans. 

Henry had to disagree. The hair colour matched. And the eyes. But Hans was handsome. The man - his name was Petr apparently - was not. 

Or at least not to Henry.

Not that he would say it out loud.

“I take it the other one is supposed to be for me?” he asked, looking at a bearded raven-haired noble.

“We will have to dye your hair,” Katherine quipped from somewhere behind them. 

“And you’ll have to grow a beard,” Hans added with mirth in his smile. 

“You shouldn’t be so quick to laugh,” Žižka scowled slightly. “You will know more once Katherine fills you in with what you need to know.”

“Lord Petr is a rumoured sodomite with a penchant for shameless flirting,” Katherine informed them dryly, laying two masks on the table in front of them.

Hans blinked dumbly, momentarily struck silent. Then he huffed a laugh. “Ah, I see what he meant now,” he chuckled, shaking his head. But he didn’t look perturbed by it, like it didn’t bother him at all.

“That means that you’ll have a certain image to conform to,” she warned him but Hans just waved that he understood. “Unfortunately not much is known about Lord Gustav,” she addressed Henry next. “But that means you will have some freedom with how you act.”

“Unless I run into someone who knows him,” Henry grumbled, eyeing the masks. They didn’t cover much - just their eyes.

“That’s unlikely to happen. It was actually quite a surprise within the circles that he accepted the invite.”

“Ah, Lucky me, then,” he said, relaxing. “Luckier than you, certainly,” he told his friend.

“Ah, please, who do you take me for? This is going to be easy,” Hans’ voice was full of confidence.

“John is convinced this ledger will help him win over support of at least three powerful families,” Katherine went on. “If it’s there - bring it back.”

—--

Henry stared at the door and took a deep breath. His skin felt itchy under the too-tight collar, he could feel a rough stitch brush against his neck in an aggravating caress of a thread that was entirely form over function. 

He hadn’t even entered yet and he was already feeling out of place. These weren’t his clothes to wear, not his people to meet, not his place to be at. But there was a king to free, a book to find and a friend to keep an eye on.

A friend that had a half-an-hour head start.

“Announcing Lord Gustav of Prachatice!”

He tensed at the voice from behind the door but quickly steeled himself right before they opened. He stepped inside and it was only by a miracle that he didn’t stumble at the sight. The ballroom was tall, almost as tall as a cathedral’s. Giant candelabras hung from the ceilings, illuminating everything around as if it was day, light reflecting off gilded ornaments and jewelry alike. Drapes of rich red colour adorned huge windows, there were paintings on the walls and tables of food and drink pushed against them.

Henry supposed only a king could match the splendor of this place.

There were tens of eyes on him as he emerged from the entrance, none of which sparked in recognition - much to his relief. He nodded vaguely in the direction of the crowd and all by one, slowly, they all returned to whatever conversations they had before.

He hooked his arms behind his back - a pose he hoped looked disinterested and stuck up, and stiffly made his way deeper inside. 

The palace was enormous - if there was one word Henry would pick to describe it. The ballroom itself wasn’t even the most of it. He could see a staircase leading to another floor and a balcony overlooking the people below. There were countless halls leading out that Henry knew - from seeing the building from outside - led to rooms that he couldn’t even name the purpose of. 

It was obscene, the wealth of it.

No one paid him any mind so far so he felt free to look, hoping to spot that familiar splash of gold, but quickly learned it would be a pointless endeavour. Too many people on the main floor, too much gold around in general. They weren’t in Rattay anymore, Hans wouldn’t stand out as much here.

He eyed the balcony and the marble stairs - surely, they would be a good vantage point. A high ground is a high ground, even in a palace of people he had no business being anywhere near.

He climbed the steps, the black and dark blue of his clothes contrasting sharply with the paleness of the stone, making it even more apparent how much he didn’t belong. His eyes jumped from person to person as he got higher and saw more. 

Where was he?

There were tens of people there, chattering with each other enough that the room was filled with constant noise and occasional shrill laughter that would then be stifled quickly with a blush and wide eyes. Faces were already red from the drink or whispered lewd words - the nobles sure didn’t like to waste time.

Some lady tripped on her dress, letting out a high pitched yelp. It caused a small commotion when the man accompanying her made a show of helping her up. 

He made his way to the top but decided to continue looking at the floor below, leaning on the cold balustrade - cold enough for it to seep through his thin gloves. Marble. Everything was marble. How did they even live here during winters? For certain it’d be impossible to heat up all this greedy stone.

He spotted a blond man below and for a brief moment his heart jumped before he realised that it wasn’t Hans’ hair at all. It was just a tad too dark, the cut of it wrong near the temples and when he looked closer the man’s jaw seemed misshapen, not at all as elegant as it should be. So he continued watching, but the more he did the more sure he was that his friend wasn’t on that floor. 

He began to straighten up when a hand landed on his shoulder, startling him enough to turn sharply.

God, how could he ever think that Hans wouldn’t stand out?

The red butterfly mask pressed snugly into the fair face, making his blue eyes that much more stunning. Stray golden strands fell on the delicate velvet and lace, almost more striking than the lush fabric itself. And still, none of that compared to that small smile he was giving Henry at that moment. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Lord Gustav,” Hans said in a low and playful tone, the one Henry associated strictly with him playing a role of a noble heir, especially if women were involved. “What is such a handsome man doing alone?” he asked, smile turning into a smirk.

Henry blinked in surprise. Then groaned. “Hans, what the hell?” he shook his head, hating how his heart picked up a pace. “No need to act that out on me .”

“Oh, Henry, but I must look the part,” Hans leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. “The eyes are everywhere,” he added, wiggling his fingers.

“Where were you, anyway? I was looking for you,” he leaned away.

“Here, actually,” Hans gestured to a sofa on the other side of the balcony. “Came to you as soon as I spotted you.”

“Has anyone recognised you yet?” Henry asked curiously. He’d been here for a good half hour longer than him, surely people must have approached him.

“As Petr you mean?” Henry nodded. ”Indeed. Had a lovely chat with some of the ladies before you came in. Very curious birds, let me tell you. The men, however, are amusingly keeping away.” his friend grinned, crossing his arms. “And I hope it stays that way.”

“Don’t you have an image to uphold?” Henry frowned, recalling 

A dangerous smirk bloomed on Hans’ lips, and Henry gulped, suddenly nervous. “But I am upholding it,” the blond muttered, placing a lone finger under Henry’s chin to tilt it slightly upwards. He blinked rapidly, body tensing but Hans quickly stepped away after the little display. “I like the beard, you should keep it. That said, I will never get what that buffoon wanted to achieve with these clothes. Apparently he is known to wear these loud outfits. It defeats the purpose of a masked ball, though, no?” Hans twirled around, showing it off.

Henry looked him over. It was indeed a little out there. The silk shirt was the colour of the sky, its sleeves loose and flowing until they tightened at stiff cuffs with jeweled buttons. There was a red vest over it, matching the mask, but absolutely clashing with the shirt. The trousers were black, thankfully, but his shoes were red too. There was a fake, golden flower pinned to the breast pocket of his vest. It was… an interesting choice, to say the least. No one else that he could see wore a shirt of this cut. Or that set of colours. 

“Yeah, I’m not sure if I like them,” Henry said, once he was done looking. The clothes were ugly, the man wearing them was not. It almost elevated them, in a way Henry was sure the real Petr couldn’t.

“You, on the other hand, look almost decent,” Hans appraised him, running a hand down the lapel of his black overcoat. “Shame about your hair,” he scrunched his nose at the dyed strands.

“Ugh, I really hope it’ll come out,” Henry whispered. “But Katherine wasn’t sure what we were even using. Anyway, did you manage to find anything out yet?”

“Goodness, no. I was only starting to mingle,” Hans sighed. There was a sound of glass shattering as someone dropped a dish. The noble hooked his fingers around Henry’s elbow. “Let’s stroll around, hmm? Lord Gustav?” the nobleman tugged at his arm, making them walk beside each other.

He groaned inwardly. He knew what Hans was doing. Henry was the safe choice to play his role at - a person who knew what was going on that wouldn’t punch him in the face. He cursed himself for not expecting it. What was he expecting, even? That he would see his friend blatantly flirting with the men at the ball? No, he should’ve known it would all be directed at him. 

He got himself ready for a long, looong night.

“The problem with this fucking palace,” Hans muttered to him with a sultry expression that didn’t fit the words, “is that I’ve never been here. I know this is going to sound mad coming from me, but who the hell needs this many rooms?”

“Right, who knows where the damn ledger could be.”

“I suppose it would be guarded, so maybe we should be looking at places we aren’t meant to go.”

They walked along the balcony, unbothered so far by other guests. But Henry could see the looks being thrown their way - at Hans’ fingers on his arm, at Hans himself, at him for allowing the touch. There were hands hiding whispering mouths and swift turns of heads when his glances were noticed. 

Why was Petr even invited? Why did he decide to come?

Then made their way towards a corridor near the end of the balcony - it led deeper into the left wing of the palace, big windows letting everyone see the maze in front of it. 

“So many rooms,” Hans grumbled, still clinging to his elbow. Henry didn’t like the way it tingled.

“Do you think we should just start searching one by one?” Henry whispered, eyeing the handful of guests who were roaming the long hall. 

“I don’t think we have any other choice. I’ve no idea where to even start,” Hans answered in a hushed voice. “But maybe let’s do it where there’s fewer people?”

“Aye,” he agreed, venturing in deeper. The halls felt like they were endless. “I’ve never seen a place like this.”

“I guess it’s different from a pigsty, isn’t it?” 

“It’s grand compared to Rattay too, you dollop.”

“I will make sure to order a couple of gilded chandeliers to satisfy your tastes, then.”

“Throw in some drapes too.”

“Oh? And what else, want me to rebuild the whole place in marble?”

“Christ, no. Wouldn’t be able to warm it up if we tried.”

“Would feel fantastic in the summers, though.”

They continued on, passing a door after door - some of them wide open, most shut tight. The ones that were open didn’t look relevant. There was a music room, with a grand piano polished to shine. An art chamber, where the air smelled of paint and turpentine, and the floor was littered with easels and canvases of various sizes. A library, filled to the brim with books, where comfortable looking chairs were reflecting the orange light of the lamps. 

“This is going to be a right pain, isn’t it?” Henry groaned, passing yet another door. The corridor did bend at some point - the building was shaped like a square - but the sheer size of it was overwhelming. 

Hans only hummed in response and Henry glanced at him, used to the constant chatter the other man usually provided while they were together. But his friend looked lost in thought, rubbing his thumb into Henry’s sleeve where he still refused to let him go. 

He really shouldn’t be feeling it as intensely as he was. 

They were probably on the opposite side of where the ball was happening. And so far only one door was guarded by two men. He made a mental note of it.

There was no one else around them now.

Hans slowed, looking through the window at the greenery behind the palace, prompting him to do the same. The gardens around the building were a sight to behold, even to Henry’s lowborn eyes. They stopped, admiring the view in the sun’s dying light, golden fading into orange on the colourful specks of the flowers below. There was a fountain in the distance, water sparkling lazily as it cascaded down. 

It wasn’t Henry’s world. 

He turned to glance at Hans, only to find him already looking back, face soft with a small smile and relaxed eyes. Henry’s breath stuttered a little, surprised by the emotion he felt at the sight. The sunlight caught in the blues, making them look like jewels, and his hair shone around his head like a halo.

I wish I could paint , Henry thought and the absurdity of it threw him out of his stupor.

Hans lifted his hand and reached out towards the side of Henry’s face, behind the mask’s edge, where he gripped a small strand of his hair and rolled it between his fingers. “Black hair really doesn’t suit you, Henry,” he muttered.

“Aye, you’ve told me already,” Henry managed to say through a heart thundering in his chest. “There’s no one here, you know.”

“You never know, Henry. You never know,” his friend said, but he let go.

In the end they circled the entire palace’s upper floor, not finding much of interest besides that one guarded door. Sounds of music welcomed them back to the ballroom, growing louder the closer they got to the end of the hall. The sky outside was dark by then - the dancing must have started. 

They swerved around the people on the balcony, still almost hip to hip, although Hans wasn’t touching his arm anymore. He found the cold balustrade again and looked. 

“The dresses alone could finance an entire castle in Rattay,” his blond companion whispered to him, tilting his head in a titillating way towards Henry’s shoulder - close, but not enough for his hair to land on his dark overcoat.

Henry turned his body ever so slightly towards him, smile light and teasing. “I bet you mourn that Petr is the way he is then, huh? Otherwise you’d be charming them off the ladies to take them back.”

“Hah!” Hans huffed, delighted. “No doubt. The men’s outfits simply aren’t worth as much,” the blond chuckled at Henry’s expression of surprise. “Let’s go down.”

Entering the twirling and swaying sea of nobles made Henry’s head dizzy. He spotted a table full of treats and sighed in relief, tugging at Hans’ slippery sleeve to get his attention.

“Ah. Hungry, aren’t you?” Hans asked after taking one look at him, he didn’t even need to say anything. “I wonder what kind of ridiculous things they serve around here.”

The answer was everything and more, because he couldn’t even name some of the dishes that were laid out for the guests. He loaded up a plate but stopped when he noticed Hans was grimacing. “What?”

“Goodness, Henry, you can always get back here. Don’t look like you’re preparing for a three day’s journey. It’s improper.”

“But I will eat it all anyway,” he protested, moving the plate out of reach of the blond’s demanding hands.

“I know! But image is everything here so everyone pretends they don’t feel as hungry as they do. It’s just the way it is.”

Henry didn’t think it mattered. It wasn’t his reputation he was ruining. Still, he sagged in defeat, knowing Hans wouldn’t let it go. “Fine, how about we make it look like it’s for us both and your hands are simply busy with carrying us two goblets of wine?”

“Christ, I should’ve known better to get between you and food. Yes, Henry. Fine. Let’s find ourselves a quiet place,” Hans sighed, waving over a servant boy to pour them the drinks.

The place ended up being the inner courtyard. The entrances to it were hidden behind the heavy drapes that shielded the guests against sudden drafts of wind from outside and not many people were around. A couple or two, whispering to each other in a more secluded corner. Someone sitting alone with a carafe of wine. A lady walking slowly, looking at the ground. 

The sounds of music were muted but audible and the air around them felt warm.

There was a large fountain in the middle of it all, with a rim around the base part big enough to sit on. Henry put the plate down next to himself as he planted his arse on the stone. Hans sighed and handed him one of the drinks, sinking as well.

Then he stole one of the morsels from Henry’s pile.

“I knew it,” Henry growled, taking one for himself. “All that talk but you were hungry too.”

“You have enough, surely you don’t mind sharing with this dashing lord here, hmm?” Hans put a hand to his chest dramatically.

“Dashing thief, more like,” he grumbled but let go. “I’ve no idea what I’m eating.”

Hans examined the little skewer he was holding. “It seems to be some kind of… fruit?” he commented, uncertainly. 

Henry put it in his mouth slowly and bit down. It was an explosion of sweetness on his tongue, he moaned in surprise as it flooded him. “It is fruit,” he told Hans after he swallowed both the treat and his astonishment.

“That good, eh?” Hans looked at him strangely. “Which one was it?”

He shuffled the food around, looking for it until he spotted one more piece. “A-ha!” he said in triumph and presented it to Hans. 

The other man looked down at it and Henry sensed the trouble before Hans’ face even grew the smirk for it. He stared in horrified fascination as his lord gazed into his eyes with mischief, taking hold of his hand and opening his mouth to take the piece of fruit between his teeth, pulling it off the skewer in a manner that was entirely too enticing for what it was. 

The blond menace was laughing at him, chewing with gusto and still holding his hand. Henry pursed his lips and wrought his hand away, discarding the wooden stick to the ground. “Good Lord,” he grumbled to himself, knowing the image would stay with him forever now, whether he wanted it or not.

“Apologies, Henry,” Hans chuckled, deeply amused. “Trying to play my part.”

He drank his wine, huffing in disgruntlement. God was surely punishing him for his past sins with this buffoonery. To have the man he fancied flirt with him only under false and disingenuous pretenses was a retribution he hadn’t expected to experience ever in his life. He wasn’t ready for it.

“Aye, aye,” he muttered into the goblet and looked away. “But I do think you enjoy taking the piss.”

“Oh, immensely,” Hans grinned at him, easy and unguarded. Unserious. 

Just like this entire thing.

They finished their food and were about to leave to scour the lower floor before they heard swishing of layers of fabric and harsh clacks of boots on the stone. They turned towards the sound, surprised to see a young woman approach them, dressed in a puffy dress the colour of cream.

“Good evening, Sirs,” she curtseyed, almost shyly and then turned towards Henry. “Pardon my boldness,” she told him, face pink and eyes fixed on the ground, “but would you care for a dance?”

Henry stiffened, sudden panic overcoming his body. He didn’t know how to dance any of these courtly prancings. His fingers tightened around the goblet, mind racing to find a way out of this, but Hans must’ve sensed his discomfort because he raised his hand at the woman, almost rudely.

“Do excuse us, dear lady, but we were in the middle of a riveting conversation and I would rather love for it to continue,” the blond said in a pompous tone, clear in its dismissal. Henry almost felt sorry for her when she flinched, nodded and scurried away. 

Henry relaxed as soon as she was out of sight.

“Thanks,” he muttered, drinking the rest of the wine. “I don’t know how to dance.”

“Well, we will have to make sure no one asks you, then,” Hans shuffled closer, draping an arm around his shoulder. “And what better way than to make them think you’re completely disinterested?” 

Henry groaned inwardly.

“Come on,” he said out loud, standing up and shaking the arm off. “We have a task to complete.”

They left the dishes behind and re-entered the ballroom, dodging the twirling couples. 

“It will be midnight soon,” Hans commented as they headed for the corridor, “I reckon most of these people should be properly sloshed in no time.”

“Right, and getting into places they shouldn’t as well. We could use that.”

“Precisely,” the blond smiled. 

There were more patrolling guards on the ground floor. They’d saunter around in pairs, not caring much, but their presence still lingered around in their minds. 

“Do you think they’re around for the safety of the guests or safety of the property?” Hans asked him quietly, eyeing the passing soldiers.

“Hired for both, couldn’t be arsed to do either is my guess,” he answered honestly. He wouldn’t be surprised if they were sneaking out alcohol when nobody was looking. 

They didn’t make it far into the hall before Hans’ palm found its way to the small of his back, the touch of it burning through the fabric of his clothes. Henry glanced to his left where his friend was walking, but there was the familiar small smile on his face and nothing else. Another play for the crowds, a call to leave them alone.

“Say, Henry-”

The clock struck midnight, announcing it to everyone with a pretty melodic chime.

Henry’s vision swam and the light around him shifted.

“Announcing Lord Gustav of Prachatice!”

He stared at the piece of wood before him and the ornate brass handles fixed to it. The doors to the ballroom.

His head snapped around in incomprehension. Hans wasn’t there, he was alone, back where he shouldn’t be. He was in the hallway just a moment ago, now was at the entrance. Did he lose time? Consciousness? What happened?

“Um…” came an unsure voice where the doors opened without him noticing. Everyone was staring as Henry didn’t come in when he was supposed to.

“Ah, sorry,” he said quickly, face warming up as he finally stepped into the ballroom. The daylight outside was only now starting to fade.

It was dark just a minute before. 

Feeling off-put, he made his way inside, ignoring the whispers that started to emerge. He needed to find Hans. He almost ran up the stairs, drawing even more glances. Something didn’t feel right - his belly was tight with unease. 

He saw him instantly this time, lounging on the sofa, accompanied by two ladies. The moment Henry turned towards him Hans spotted him too. His face brightened with a smile that made Henry’s panicked self lurch. The blond stood up, waving goodbye to the women and met him halfway, hands stretched out in greeting as if to embrace him.

“Pleasure to meet you, Lord Gustav,” Hans said playfully. “Took a while to get here, I take it?”

“Hans,” Henry whispered urgently and his friend’s whole demeanor changed, going from elated to alarmed. His shoulders hunched and his face grew serious as he leaned in. 

“What is it? What happened?”

He looked at the lord incredulously. Then paused. Was it just him? Maybe he finally went mad. Or had a waking dream. Nothing else explained the way Hans was perfectly composed, like nothing happened at all. Perhaps to him, it did not.

“Have you noticed anything strange?” he asked cautiously.

“This whole ball is strange, Henry,” Hans furrowed his brow in confusion. “But well within expectation, I suppose. What do you mean?”

“It’s just…” he started but hesitated. The experience was already fading from him, conviction that he went through some kind of hallucination settling in like stone. “No, it’s nothing,” he exhaled, trying to relax. “This is the first time we’ve talked here, right?”

“...Yes?” the blond was looking at him oddly. And with good reason, Henry conceded.

“Never mind me, Lord Petr,” he cleared his throat, regaining composure. His friend regarded him for a while longer before nodding to himself.

“How about a drink, hm? You are all tense. And weird. Weirder than usual, I mean.”

“Oh, piss off,” Henry smiled faintly and made his way to the tables. 

Two goblets and a stroll later they ended up in the inner courtyard, sitting on the fountain’s edge. It looked exactly as Henry remembered from his dream.

“You had me truly worried there for a second,” Hans sagged on the stone and took a gulp. “I thought we got busted half an hour into the entire thing.”

“Apologies, My Lord. That said, any idea where we should start?”

“Well, I did plan to scout the upper floor first, this is where the more important rooms usually are, you see. Ground floor is for things like kitchens and storage. But since we are here, how about we check out whatever we can through the windows?” 

“Aye, decent idea.”

“Decent? Decent?! Henry, all my ideas are magnificent!”

“Aye, Sir. Of course, Sir,” he laughed. The blond responded with a smile as they sipped their wine in quiet, watching an occasional couple pass by.

“Feeling better now?” Hans asked him and Henry felt a sudden and unexpected wave of fondness for the other man. They could bicker, they could argue, but Henry was always amazed when Hans showed he cared. 

“Yes. Thank you. Let’s go play burglars.”

“Oh, do not describe it in such a way,” Hans whined but got up after him.

It wasn’t completely dark yet, but the sun was hidden behind the walls of the building, enveloping the courtyard in dusk much quicker. 

First room to the right of the ballroom was, indeed, a storage space - filled with kegs, sacks and various furniture. There wasn’t really a path under the windows - they were trampling over some planted flowers, skulking about like a pair of mismatched bandits. At least Henry’s clothes were fit for the occasion. Hans stood out like a sore thumb.

“You are the world’s worst clothed thief,” he hissed to his lord, pulling him down behind a bush when they noticed a passerby. 

“Technically, it’s Petr, not me,” Hans protested.

Next was some dusty room that looked like it hadn’t been opened in ages. They dismissed that one on that fact alone. The ledger was recent, it wouldn’t be in a place like that.

“Ah, crap,” Henry cursed when he stepped on a red rose and snapped its stem in two. He picked up the mangled flower, noting it smelled rather strong. He tore off the thorns and slipped it into Hans’ breast pocket, right along the fake gold flower. “Suits you much more than me,” he sighed and continued on, looking under his feet more often. 

“Sometimes you say the darndest things, Henry,” he heard a mutter behind him and smiled.

Next three rooms they could look into also held nothing of interest. 

“Do you think they have cellars?” Henry asked, hoping to hear a no.

“They definitely have cellars.”

“Great, even more-”

“Shhh!” Hans threw a hand over Henry’s lips and stilled them both. There was a light of a torch heading their way, he noticed. Hans’ eyes darted around and then Henry was being pushed into a wall, the action sending a thrill down his spine that nearly stunned him. “Trust me!” the blond hissed and pressed himself against him, cradling Henry’s face so his hands would hide their unjoined mouths. 

Henry felt every point of contact.

Hans was looking into his eyes, mere inches away from his own, with his lips parted like he was about to give Henry a passionate kiss. Swallowing hard against the warm breath on his skin - they were sharing air, God -  he wrapped his arms around Hans’ waist, watching his eyes become hooded, just in time for a guard to come in sight. The man stopped abruptly, both disgusted and uncertain. “Ugh, do excuse me, Sirs,” he grumbled at them, clearly not wanting to deal with the situation. “Do it in a room, geez,” they heard as he walked back to the paved path. 

They stayed entangled for a moment more - the warmth of his lord’s fingers seeping through the delicate gloves, before Hans leaned away, clearing his throat. “Well, one upside of playing this character, I guess,” he muttered, looking away. “Unhand me, Henry,” he ordered in exasperation.

Henry snapped his hands back like Hans burned him. “Shit, sorry.”

They walked along the walls in tense silence - broken only by the muted music coming from the ballroom and an occasional comment on whatever it was that they could see. Henry wanted to scream. He felt too warm in his coat, his eyes were seeking the patrolling guards - whether in dread or hope, he wasn’t sure.

His heart craved the closeness, his mind feared what it would make of him.

“Ah, that’s the kitchen,” Hans said, peering into the well-lit space. 

Henry looked inside, at the busy cooks and the servants who were coming in and out with dishes either full or empty. In the back of his mind he noted that the guarded room on the upper floor was right above it. But then he blinked and shook his head. Right, that part was his weird dream. That room might not exist at all. Still, the window in the supposed chamber was open, he could see it clearly from below here.

“So far, none of these feel right,” his lord complained but he had to agree. The entire right side of the palace’s ground floor seemed to be dedicated to operating it. An important ledger wouldn’t be anywhere near.

“I really wish we knew more,” Henry groaned. “This is like chasing a ghost.”

“Patience. If it’s there - and for John’s sake, it’d better be - we will find it. It’s just a matter of time. In fact, we should have an easier time later on, when people are drunk and causing chaos. Hell, at this rate I might join them.”

He was about to ask what was bothering him but just as he opened his mouth, the clock struck midnight with a melodic chime.

His head swam.

“Announcing Lord Gustav of Prachatice!”

He stared dumbly at the ballroom door, for the third time. 

No. This was no longer explained by a dream. He could excuse once, but not twice. 

Things were very, very wrong.

He stepped into the illuminated space, not bothering to even nod at anyone in greeting. He needed a drink.

Henry wasn’t thinking - he stood near the table, sipping wine and staring into space numbly for God knows how long before he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Pleasure to meet you, Lord Gustav,” came a murmur in that voice he knew so well, air tickling his ear and sending little sparks down his spine. So Hans came seeking him out when he didn’t show up upstairs. He felt warmed by it.

Or it was just the booze.

“Why is such a handsome man drinking alone?” the blond grinned at him when Henry turned his way. 

“You should join in and fix that,” he huffed out, flushing despite himself. 

Hans’ grin widened and he grabbed his own goblet. His lord leaned a shoulder against the wall and swirled the wine around lazily. “You clean up nice, Henry,” Hans looked him up and down. “But I like your usual hair colour much more,” he reached and ran his fingers through Henry’s dyed hair. 

“Any opinions about the beard?” he asked dryly, trying to ignore how good they felt on his scalp. 

Hans’ grin transformed into a smile, one that looked genuine. The fingers slid down his face, to his cheek and then his chin. Henry was doing his best to keep himself together while his lord basically stroked his face in public. “I like it,” Hans said quietly. “Would like it even more in brown.”

Henry chuckled, the numbness easing in the presence of his friend. He still had no clue what was going on. But for now all he could do was continue forward.

That’s all he knew how to do.

Maybe he was in some sort of purgatory. But if it was, then bearing it together with Hans didn’t sound so bad.

“Let’s take a stroll, shall we?” Henry offered his arm. The blond looked pleasantly surprised, wrapping his fingers around his elbow almost instantly. 

“Scouting, aren’t we? Wise choice.”

He led them towards the left hallway, hearing music start behind them. That half of the palace was clearly meant for guests. Sprawling rooms with sofas and chairs arranged around low tables, with private alcoves and hidden little nooks. A large and clean privy, with a bathing room right next to it. A room full of people lounging in low light, where the air was full of strangely scented smoke. One chamber that was mostly empty but kept tidy, with mirrors strung along one of the walls.

“Have you ever seen anything like this?” he asked Hans as they made their way through each chamber, arm in arm, not minding the looks other guests threw their way. 

“No,” Hans whispered back. “And I really want to sit in one of these chairs,” he nodded at a plush red velvet armchair that looked incredibly inviting even to Henry’s peasant eyes.

“Come on!” the blond tugged. “There’s too many people around anyways, let’s wait until they’re all drunk or otherwise occupied.”

That was the third time Henry heard it from Hans now, wasn’t it? Something within knew that it wasn’t true - that if all he did was wait then he’d just end up staring at the door again. On the other hand, if they do wait and nothing happens they’d just continue.

Henry was curious by nature.

So he followed his lord.

They brought two chairs closer so their armrests were pushed together and sat down.

Or to be more precise, Henry sat down. Hans made a show of sinking into the plush cushion and lounged in it like a snake, one leg hooked over one side while he leaned his entire upper body towards Henry to his left.

“I need to get one of these at home,” the blond sighed in pleasure, elbow on the armrests between them and his cheek propped up on his balled fist. He was hogging all the shared space as usual, Henry thought fondly.

“Do so, so I can sneak in and use it from time to time,” Henry rolled his neck and relaxed.

“And here I thought a peasant wouldn’t be able to appreciate the quality.”

“Why wouldn’t I? My arse feels divine.”

Hans snorted giddily and then grinned wide. “Wait, wait, give me your hand.”

“Oh no,” Henry sighed but complied, placing his right hand on the armrest, gripping it lightly.

Hans covered it with his own right palm and squeezed, clearing his throat, a devilish grin full of mirth still bright on his face. “My Lord Gustav,” he started, unable to keep laughter out of his voice, “I could make your arse feel even more divine-”

Henry groaned in embarrassment, left hand flying to cover his eyes while Hans giggled beside him like a drunken fool. “Can’t you torture other guests with this schtick? That was awful .”

“What, and get punched in the face or worse? No, no, no, Henry. It’s going to be you and you only,” he chuckled, still holding Henry’s hand.

“Makes you wonder why Petr was invited at all, no?” he asked, feeling suddenly somber. “I haven’t seen anyone approach you.”

“Well, I did make sure I wouldn’t be bothered,” Hans shrugged. “I did have a lovely chat with some ladies, though. But, Henry…” he hesitated but then decided to go on. “Nobility is rotten. They wanted Petr here because he holds power in his region. He is rich, he has an army, he has land. Greed wins over morality here more often than not. And calling it morality is a mockery anyways.”

“So, you’re saying he is too important to care about his sins?”

“Something like that.”

Henry glanced up and around the room and saw how people flinched and turned around sharply. “They’re giving us looks.”

“Still wouldn’t dare to do anything else,” Hans was no longer grinning, a bitter smirk taking its place instead. “Or at least as long as I don’t debase them with my attention,” his voice was sarcastic. 

“Why do this, then?” he gestured at their joined hands. “They won’t approach anyway.”

“Oh they will, eventually. I’m just making sure it doesn’t happen any time soon.”

“Would they really?”

“As I said, Henry. Greed wins.”

Hans no longer looked joyful like he had before he asked. He wished he hadn’t asked at all.

Without thinking, he turned the palm of his hand in Hans’ grasp inside up and linked their fingers together. Blue eyes widened in surprise and then softened, frown changing into a faint smile. 

“I’m glad you’re my friend, Henry,” the blond said quietly, looking at their hands.

“Why is that?”

Hans’ eyes moved to his and he leaned in slowly, making Henry’s heart thunder in his chest and his breath halt. His lord’s lips parted to answer-

The clock chimed midnight, he felt a wave of nausea and found himself staring at the ballroom door.

“Announcing Lord Gustav of Prachatice!”

His chest tingled with a memory of rushing blood, the nausea gone almost as soon as it appeared.

So it happened again.

He stepped in for the fourth time and made his way straight to the wine, taking a whole pitcher and ignoring the faint protests of the servants. He then sat in the chair he occupied just moments before, but without company this time. Poured himself a full goblet and downed it in one go.

Right, so midnight seemed to be the point.

But why?

Was he actually awake? Or was it all a dream?

He pinched his thigh and it hurt. It felt real.

What the fuck?

He drank another cup. Poured himself another and started that one too.

If this was real and he was stuck, then the key would be to figure out if he can even get out. But how? That was the question.

There was a scratch of chair legs on the stone as someone sat next to him. He turned, expecting to see that obnoxious red and blue outfit but froze instead, finding a complete stranger looking at him from the other seat.

“My greetings!” the man said. He wore a mask too, but the lines around his mouth were visible enough to understand that he was older than Henry. He was dressed elegantly, in cream and gold. His hair was light brown and short. “Lord Gustav, I am guessing?” 

“That’d be right,” Henry slurred slightly, feeling the effects of alcohol drank too quickly. “My pleasure, uh…”

“Sir Radovan. You can call me Sir Radovan.”

“My pleasure, Sir Radovan,” Henry repeated, from the lack of a better thing to say. 

“Enjoying the evening so far?” came the light question.

He glanced at the pitcher of wine that he squeezed between himself and the armrest, and then back at the man. “I haven’t decided yet.”

The man chuckled. It sounded forced. “I admit, I was curious why such a young and promising man would go and hide himself away instead of taking part in all the lovely activities. Has something happened?”

Henry regretted the buzz he felt. There was something off about the man that his mind desperately wanted to alert him to but he couldn’t pin down exactly what it was.

“Nothing happened,” he said, “I simply liked the wine.”

“You can enjoy wine in company.”

“Would have to share it, though,” he retorted, vaguely aware he was giving the real Gustav a reputation of a shameless alcoholic.

The stranger continued with his incessant questions, sparking Henry’s irritation even under all the booze he drank. He was growing restless, wishing for him to finally make known what he wanted. But no, the talk about nothing went on and on. 

Was this how all those noble meetings usually went?

Just as he was fighting the urge to just get up and rudely walk away, a familiar figure sauntered in. Hans’ eyes fell on Radovid and even in his haze Henry noticed the slight frown that flashed on his face before it smoothed over.

Hans’ hips swayed when he approached, a dangerous curve to his smile. Despite spotting it, Henry relaxed, utterly glad to see him - Hans was safe. Hans was easy to talk to.

That changed when Hans unceremoniously sat on his lap - close to his knees - crossed his legs and used Henry’s shoulder for balance. “Greetings, My Lords,” the blond drawled, the epitome of smugness on the surface.

But Henry could feel his fingers trembling where they dug into his flesh.

“Have you no decorum?” Radovid gasped in outrage, eyes wide and mouth slack.

“What is that?” Hans tilted his head in a mocking fashion. “Lord Gustav doesn’t mind, does he?” his lord looked at him significantly, clearly signaling for him to play along.

The joke was on him, at that moment Henry craved it more than anything else in the world.

“It’s alright,” he slurred, deciding to place a hand on his friend’s thigh. Anything to get this stranger away from them. Anything to escape that stifling conversation about nothing that still felt like falling into some sort of trap.

“Goodness gracious,” Radovan despaired, throwing his hands in the air. “Do be careful, Lord Gustav. I bid you farewell,” he said coldly, getting up from the chair. He was grumbling something under his nose as he walked away but Henry didn’t care. 

He was watching Hans watching him go.

His fingers were rubbing little circles into the strong leg and the grip on his shoulder grew almost painful. 

“You are a difficult man to find,” Hans complained but his tone didn’t match the voice. It was quiet. Breathy. 

Shaking.

“I’m thankful that you did,” he murmured back, the gratitude genuine. “Have some wine with me?”

Hans’ eyebrows rose high enough that he could see them peeking from below the red lace. But then he smiled and moved to get to the newly vacated seat.

Henry placed his other hand on his knee to still him. “Stay.”

His lord inhaled sharply but made no further move to get away. Then he coughed. “I don’t have a cup.”

“Drink from mine,” Henry told him, picking it up from where his thigh was squeezing it into the armrest. 

“Right,” Hans said weakly. His face was red and his fingers were trembling when he took the goblet from Henry’s hand. He was swaying left and right, trying to balance himself on Henry’s knee. It looked uncomfortable. He didn’t want him to be uncomfortable.

Without much thought, he took hold of the noble’s hips and slid him up his lap and closer to his chest. “This should be more comfer- compo- cozy,” he slurred lowly, enjoying the weight of Hans’ body against him. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against his friend’s breast, breathing deeply.

Lavender. What a lovely scent. 

It was a wonder something smelling that good wasn’t the colour of gold.

“How much did you drink?” he heard Hans ask. His tone was weird. But he was too fuzzy to discern how. 

“A little,” he mumbled, listening to the sound of liquid being poured and something thudding a quick rhythm into his ear. 

“A little, you say,” came a faint scoff. 

“It’s a bit strong,” he admitted, tightening his grip around the noble’s waist.

It was fine.

It would all be over at midnight.

“One of us should keep their wits about,” Hans sighed into his hair.

“Nonsense,” Henry smiled to himself.

A sound of gulping, then a gasp and a whimper. 

What was his other hand even doing…? 

Fondling his friend’s knee, apparently.

“Ah, Henry…” he heard Hans’ voice and he opened his eyes with effort. 

His face was so close, he realised. Close enough that he could smell the wine on his breath, felt it against the hair falling on his forehead. Hans was flushed all over - his entire body was hot. His legs in Henry’s lap, his waist under Henry’s arm, his hand around Henry’s neck, his chest where it was pressed against Henry’s. The pink of his face was deepening before Henry’s very eyes.

It couldn’t be just the alcohol.

He watched Hans swallow - the apple on his throat bobbed up and down. If he just leaned in an inch or two, he could trace it with his tongue.

It was the strangled moan that alerted him to the fact that he did exactly that. 

There was a clatter of a goblet being dropped on the floor and a second hand clutched at his upper arm hard. He tasted salt and smelled the scent of lavender, lips brushing across the fair skin of his friend’s neck. 

“Henry,” he heard and his head was forced upwards. “You are drunk.”

“And you are beautiful,” he mumbled. His lips were so close.

“God,” Hans rasped out, cradling his face, “please don’t let it be just-”

The clock chimed midnight and Henry stared at the ballroom door.

He turned away from it and walked, walked, walked, until the familiar wave of nausea hit him again.

“Announcing Lord Gustav of Prachatice!”

He didn’t go for the wine this time. Instead, he wandered over to the inner courtyard straight away. 

He tried focusing on the fact that he was stuck there. That he was missing something and didn’t know what. But his mind was full of golden hair instead, blue eyes and memories of touches now erased from existence.

His head told him to care about the ledger.

His heart screamed one name, over and over.

Muted sounds of music rang in the air. He closed his eyes and let them wash over him. He could smell the roses and lavender planted across the terrace, the scent of them sweet in the summer’s warmth. 

He would never again be able to smell lavender without recalling salt on his tongue.

“Could I ask for a dance?” came a question that he wanted to hear but spoken by a wrong voice. The young woman in a cream dress, the same one that came to him before.

“Apologies, my lady. I’m waiting for someone.”

“Oh,” she replied in a small voice, clearly disappointed. “I understand, have a pleasant evening.”

He watched her go with a clenched heart. It took courage for a woman to ask first. It simply wasn’t as things were. He hoped he didn’t kill her will to try. 

But then he remembered.

It wouldn’t matter in a little over an hour.

“Pleasure to meet you, Lord Gustav,” he heard somewhere behind him. He felt himself smiling before he turned around. “What was that about?” Hans asked him, voice going lower as he came close.

“She asked for a dance.”

“And you didn’t agree?”

“I don’t know how to.”

“I hope you didn’t tell her that.”

“Of course not. I said I was waiting for you.”

“Did you, now…” Hans grinned faintly, eyes sparkling even in the dark. “Want me to show you some steps? There’s no use nosing about until this lot is well and truly hammered, anyway.”

Henry turned to him fully then, and looked.

Hans’ voice projected confidence but his body did not. That smile was shaky - lips trembling with the effort of something . Blue eyes weren’t really looking at him but somewhere behind him.

Nervous.

How was he only noticing it now?

“Would you?” he asked and enjoyed the way surprise bloomed on the blond’s face. He wasn’t expecting this answer. It made something twist in Henry’s heart.

“Well… yes. The dance is rather simple, even a peasant like you can pick it up no problem.”

He took the last step towards his friend. “Teach this peasant, then, My Lord,” he murmured, something like mirth blooming inside him when he noticed Hans was flustered by it. 

“Right, um…” the blond fumbled with words and oh, who could’ve thought it would be so enjoyable? “Give me your right hand and put the other on my shoulder,” his friend told him and Henry followed the directions obediently. They stood chest to chest and almost nose to nose. There was a hand on his shoulder blade and another grasping his fingers high in the air. 

Henry’s gaze was steady.

Hans’ was darting around.

“The sequence is simple,” the blond’s voice broke and he had to cough. “Back and to the side, then forwards and to the other side. I will show you, are you ready?” he asked, visibly trying to summon his previous bravado.

“Direct me,” Henry said simply.

“Well, then… I will move my left leg forward, you go back with your right. Like this,” Hans moved them both and then pulled Henry to the left. “And now you go one step forward with your left and pull to the right.”

He did as instructed.

“Good to know all this footwork with swords is paying off,” Hans chuckled, more confident now. They repeated it a couple more times. It really was simple, he could see why people enjoyed it. Especially if they danced with someone who tickled their fancy. “Now, that was stationary, let’s try it while we are moving around in circles, eh?” the blond proposed, smiling.

Henry tried his best, but he began to fumble rather quickly.

“You’re not listening to the music, Henry!” Hans laughed. “Here, I’ll help. Follow my rhythm. One, two, three. One, two, three. Oh, much better. Are you going to hate it if I twirl you?”

Truly, he would let him do anything at this point.

“Will you let me twirl you , too?” he decided to ask, unable to resist the temptation.

“Of course, you’ve got to learn!”

“Then have at it,” he said, enamored, and Hans didn’t let him second guess himself before he was being spun around his own arm. 

The sensation almost caused him to panic, thinking his time was running out. But no.

It was just Hans. 

Just and yet so much.

“Got dizzy?” his friend asked, slowing their dance to check on him.

“A little. But I believe it’s my turn?”

Hans just grinned at him.

He repeated what the other man did to him but then Hans extended his arm to the fullest, doing a little pause while they looked across their outstretched hands at each other. And then the blond smiled and spun back, wrapping Henry’s arm around himself when he got close.

Suddenly, they stood in a strange embrace while the music quietened. The scent of lavender was so strong. 

He imagined tasting salt.

Hans didn’t move and Henry didn’t let go. 

“You did well, Henry,” his friend whispered, looking him in the eyes. 

“You are a surprisingly good teacher,” he smirked but it was faint. He didn’t dare to break apart. 

Hans’ gaze dropped to his lips and he parted them almost instinctively. 

But then Hans pulled away and it had no right to feel as cold as it did that moment. It was the height of summer - the heat was nearly overwhelming.

Something like a candle light flickered in the window above the kitchen.

“Fancy a drink?” his lord asked, standing too far away for Henry’s taste. 

He nodded and followed.

The chime found them not soon after.

“Announcing Lord Gustav of Prachatice!”

He made his way up the stairs. He heard the yelp of the stumbling lady below. His eyes fell on Hans as soon as he climbed to the top. 

“Lord Petr, pleasure to meet you,” he said and watched Hans startle, turning towards him abruptly with wide eyes. One of the ladies on the sofa with him put her fingers to her mouth in delight.

“Ooooh, he is tall, dark and handsome,” she chirped and Henry blinked, taken aback. She was pretty, with fiery hair and grey eyes. 

“Goodness, Lady Renata,” Hans gasped half-theatrically and half-genuinely. “You can’t just-”

“Lord Gustav, was it?” the other asked, that one a dark-eyed brunette. He nodded, not knowing what to expect. “My name is Irina. But that is not important. Indulge us ladies, what is your type?” 

“My type?” he repeated, blinking in confusion. “Of what?”

“A person!” Lady Renata almost shouted. “One you’d like to court!”

“Or be courted by!” Lady Irina added, staring at him in manic curiosity.

He almost snorted. He should’ve figured Hans would get himself into these types of talks around here. 

“Let me think,” he said and made a show of scratching his bearded chin. “The type that is kind, easy to talk to and makes me laugh?” he answered, knowing damn well that wasn’t what they wanted to get out of him. But it was worth the look on Hans’ face when he heard it.

“Oh, goodness, he is a sensitive one,” Renata shook her head.

Irina was more blunt. “None of that rubbish, describe their looks!” 

It was so amusing how interested Hans seemed in his answer. “Ah yes, of course,” he chuckled lightly. “A blue-eyed blonde, I would say,” he grinned.

The ladies squealed, fanning themselves with their hands. His friend’s face was flushed pink.

“We will leave you two alone,” Renata giggled and dragged a more reluctant Irina away. 

Henry watched them go and then took the place on the right of his lord. “Having saucy conversations so soon?” he teased. 

“They were curious about Petr,” Hans said, blushing. 

“I reckon they still are, they went to a corner and are watching. Rather unsubtly, I might add,” he pointed out, amused. “Did you tell them yours was tall, dark and handsome?” 

If possible, Hans reddened even more. “Well, yes. It can apply to many people here, no?”

Henry hummed, feeling bold. The kind born of secrets only he was privy to. “And here I thought you meant me,” he grinned.

His lord sputtered. It was adorable. “Henry!” he hissed, visibly embarrassed. “Though I suppose you are tall. And dark,” he went on.

“And…?” he goaded, utterly charmed by this idiot. 

“And handsome,” the blond grumbled. “When a beard and a mask hides half your face.”

Maybe he was an idiot too, for thinking it was adorable.

“Ah, I was thinking about keeping it. Glad to know it makes me prettier.”

“And what about you? Huh? Sir blue-eyed blondes?” Hans suddenly exploded, honest-to-god pouting. 

“What about it? It’s true.”

“I’ve never seen you with a blonde woman. Not even once.”

“No, you haven’t,” he tilted his head. “Now, want to give the ladies something to chew on so we can leave? I want to check out the cellars.”

“Er,” Hans replied intelligently. “...yes?” he added uncertainly.

“Hand, please,” he requested, lifting his own, inside up. The noble looked at him in confusion but put his palm on top of Henry’s. He immediately brought it to his lips to kiss the gloved fingers. 

Hans made a sound like he choked on an inhale. 

“Let’s go,” he commanded and stood up, still holding his friend’s hand.

“Always something unexpected with you,” Hans grumbled, walking beside him. “Why cellars?”

“Got to start somewhere.”

None of the basement-level chambers were open to guests, but they did manage to sneak in between one patrolling pair and another. The building had a series of corridors below it that emerged from the first big underground cellar.

Hans took one look at the narrow passageways and refused to go in further. 

“Relax, I wouldn’t make you,” he assured his lord. “I wasn’t expecting there to be any, to be truthful.” 

“Why would a ledger be in a cellar of all places?” 

“As I said, got to start somewhere. Now let me see if I can open all these chests.”

Henry had numerous lockpicks on his person, thanks to the length of the coat. But the first chest was nothing but old tools. It was a wonder they were locked up in the first place. Second had clothes in it, third pieces of armour. Fourth did indeed have some books inside but they were all irrelevant. And slightly damp.

Cellars weren’t a place for important documents.

As he was focusing on forcing the fifth open Hans suddenly startled. “Someone’s coming!” he hissed and Henry shot to his feet, looking for a place to hide. But there was nothing but running deeper into the corridors and they just stared at each other in panic, before Hans grabbed him by the lapels and pushed him into a wall in a stunning déjà vu.

But this time, Henry’s body reacted differently.

Hans still hovered mere inches from his face, daring to do nothing more. But Henry wanted to know.

He wanted it so much his whole body ached with it.

Holding Hans’ gaze he arched his head upwards, slowly lifting it off the wall and into the other man’s space. Blue eyes widened, breaths halted and Henry pushed in. 

Their lips made contact and Henry’s soul sang with the rightness of it. Hands gripped clothes, tongues met with urgency, more, more, more before it’s taken away. 

The cellar door began to open and Henry’s head swam.

“Announcing Lord Gustav of Prachatice!”

He surely must have looked like a lunatic, wearing that wide smile when walking into the ballroom. But he couldn’t help it, no matter how much he fought to regain some composure. He felt light, like he was buzzing inside with something great. Elation wasn’t the right word for it. It was something bigger than that.

Because if he was reading all of that happened right then Hans’ advances weren’t just for show. Nobody kisses back like that if they don’t want to. 

He made his way upstairs. His cheeks were hurting and he gave up fighting his lips at that point. When the last step was behind him, he stopped and watched. Lady Renata noticed him first - she startled slightly and then her eyes widened in excitement. She shook Lady Irina’s arm and whispered something to Hans, pointing not so very subtly at Henry.

The blond’s head snapped around - blue eyes meeting his own - and he must have read something on Henry’s face because his lips parted in surprise before morphing into a small, genuine smile. His friend got up, waved a goodbye to the giddy women and sauntered over.

“Happy to see me, Henry?” Hans asked quietly enough not to be overheard. “Or should I rather say, Lord Gustav?”

“I’m always happy to see you, Hans,” he answered, unable to keep the fondness out of his voice. “Oh, do pardon me. Lord Petr.”

“Hah, but really, did something good happen?” the blond laid a hand on his shoulder blade and led them downstairs. “You look like a right sap, my friend.”

Not one to be shown up, he placed his palm on Hans’ lower back, right there, in the middle of the stairs, for everyone to see. “I’m just in a rather good mood, is all. The food is good, the wine is even better and I have you right beside me.”

Hans looked positively stunned. “Goodness, be still my heart,” he chuckled, colouring slightly. “I hope you won’t mind if I hang off your arm the entire night?” he asked with something like hope. “I do have an image to uphold and who better to do it with than the man I trust the most?”

“You can do anything you want to me tonight, Hans,” he said, because deep down he was a little shit. “But are you sure I’m handsome enough for it?”

“Bah! Cease your fishing,” the blush grew in strength. 

“Well then, let’s hope you have enough beauty for us both,” Henry grinned, laughter bubbling in his chest. 

“Certainly! Have you seen me?” Hans twirled around and nearly stumbled down the stairs. 

Henry caught him by the arm and pulled him close. Closer than he’d usually do. “Careful, My Lord,” he murmured to the startled man. 

Hans, to his credit, recovered quickly. “Bless your diligence, I almost signed up for an early visit to the Pearly Gates. Or at least a large dose of humiliation,” he breathed out.

“I shall keep a close eye on you then,” Henry smirked, arm sneaking around Hans’ waist. 

“You are rather good at this,” the blond told him as they approached the ground level.

“Only with you, Hans.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you are important to me,” they stepped on the marble floor, feeling curious and scandalised eyes on them. But Henry was calm about it. Nobody here had the stones to confront any of it. 

“You are saying quite a lot of things today,” Hans cleared his throat as Henry directed them towards the tables. 

“And I meant every single one,” he squeezed his lord’s waist with his fingers before letting go. 

“See, I think,” Hans pointed at him accusatively, “that you knew perfectly well what I planned to do and now you’re trying to one-up me.”

“Oh? And what is it that you planned to do?” he asked innocently, reaching for a fruit skewer.

“Annoy you with my brilliantly outrageous character.”

“Well, I’m not stopping you, am I?” 

He picked it up.

“But now I don’t want you to be annoyed by it.”

“What do you want me to be, then?” he said, offering Hans the treat. It was a blatant invitation, but he couldn’t help himself.

The blond looked at him like he knew it was bait. But as always, he took it as a challenge. Mischief replaced the appraisal and a hand wrapped around his own. Then that mouth he kissed only a little while ago closed around the morsel, sliding it up the skewer. It was so much more obscene - here in the brightness of the ballroom - than it was in the darkness of the courtyard. It made him flush with excitement.

Hans swallowed, tongue chasing a drop of juice on his lips and Henry’s gaze snapped to it, entranced.

“This,” Hans whispered, a determined glint in his eyes. “I want you to be this.”

“I’m not stopping you, am I?” he muttered back.

A melody rang across the room. The dances were starting.

“Let’s find someplace quieter,” his friend told him, only now letting go of his hand.

Henry placed it on the back of Hans’ neck immediately, unwilling to be parted. “Follow me.”

The dark room with plenty of little alcoves and nooks was just a couple of strides away. He led them to a private corner with a sofa bound in red velvet. He wanted to let Hans sit first, but his friend had other plans. 

The blond turned abruptly, twisted them both around and pushed him onto the seat, where he fell with an undignified yelp. Hans straddled his lap and Henry could swear he tasted salt for a brief moment. This time he was completely sober.

Hans stared down at him, eyes searching while warm fingers touched his face. “Henry…?” he whispered, thumb rubbing his cheek in a way that made his throat tighten.

“I’m not stopping you,” he choked out. 

The breath that Hans let out was shaken from disbelief. “You told me I could do anything to you,” his friend whispered, leaning closer. But there was still a hesitation there. 

Henry needed to kill it.

“And I told you I meant every word.”

It wasn’t like their cellar tryst at all. Hans came to him slowly, as if watching for any sign that would tell him to stop. But when he saw none, his eyes slipped shut and their lips connected languidly at first, then more assured. 

He wrapped his arms around his waist to bring him closer, hearing a whimper that set his spine aflame. Hans’ fingers were in his hair and on his jaw, caressing his beard and tugging at the strands, making him tighten his embrace.

Hans licked his lower lip and it was so unexpected he opened his mouth, startled, only to have their kiss deepened and a moan wrangled out of him before he could stop it. 

Hans broke them apart, breaths heavy and eyes dark, fingers still buried in Henry’s hair. “Is this real or am I dreaming?” he asked in wonder and Henry’s heart lurched. It was real, it had to be. He wanted it to. He needed it to.

He disentangled his right hand from around the other man and lifted it to his own face, deliberate and sure. He covered the palm that was cupping his jaw and moved it up. 

Slowly.

Until their tangled fingers slipped under the material of the mask and continued upwards.

Blue eyes widened as he dragged the thing off his head, leaving his face out in the open. He wanted it to scream to Hans: there was no role, no Gustav, just him. Just Henry.

“Oh,” was the only sound that came from his lord. Red mask was torn off and thrown somewhere to the side. They crashed into each other with ravenous heat and Henry took hold of him and tilted him to his left, pushing him into the velvet. He kissed his lips, his cheek, the corner of his eye, the ear - that earned him a beautiful gasp, down his neck and under his jaw. The scent of lavender grew in strength when their hips began moving against each other. 

“Please tell me this is real,” Hans almost sobbed into his hair. 

He bit him in the bend where neck meets shoulder. The hips under him buckled deliciously. 

“It’s real,” he said in a hoarse voice, feeling sorrow seep into his bones. “I love you-”

The clock chimed midnight.

“Announcing Lord Gustav of Prachatice!”

He needed to end this.  

He went up the stairs and leaned over the balustrade, waiting.

“Pleasure to meet you, Lord Gustav,” he felt the words on his neck and closed his eyes at the shiver. “What is such a handsome man doing alone?” Hans asked with an audible smirk.

Henry turned and smiled. “Waiting for you,” he answered in a low voice. 

The smirk changed into something genuine. 

“Need to talk, come with me?” 

Henry led him to the fountain where they sat among the roses and lavender in the dying light of day. His lord looked concerned at the serious look on his face.

“I need your help,” he confessed and Hans perked up. “I’ve been stuck doing this numerous times now.”

“Doing what?”

“This ball. I always start at the door and I always go back to it once midnight strikes. And I don’t know why.”

Hans narrowed his eyes at him, confused. “You… start at the door and then go back to it…? Then simply don’t walk back…?”

“No, I… I’m not explaining it well,” he huffed, frustrated. “I’m in a… loop, I think? And it lasts a little over an hour. This one started a couple minutes ago and will last until midnight. When it’s midnight, I will go back to the door again and start anew.”

His friend stared at him in silence, brow furrowed and teeth chewing on lips.

“Henry, you look sober, but are you sure you’re alright…?”

“I… Christ, I think I can prove it to you. At one point, a lady in a cream dress will come here and ask me for a dance.”

“You could be pulling a prank on me and asked her to do that.”

“On a task? Why would I do that?!” he threw his arms up in exasperation. “Another thing, I know what every room is here on the ground floor. I can name them and you can check.”

Hans wanted to. He would point to a room and Henry would describe its contents. He was right, every time.

“You could’ve been here earlier than you said and checked.”

“Again, why the hell would I?”

“Because what you’re saying sounds mad.”

“Then how about this - I know that you told the ladies you chatted with that your type was tall, dark and handsome.”

“Could’ve overheard it.”

“I know you hate that my hair is black but you like my beard.”

“I… yes,” that got his lord slightly flustered. Good.

“And you also told me that nobility is all about greed over morality. That greed always wins. You said that when I asked why Petr would be invited here.”

Hans was silent. 

“Please, Hans, I’m not lying to you. I need your help figuring out why this is happening to me.”

“I…” the blond looked away, scratching his neck awkwardly. 

Henry took a deep breath. “And I also know,” he started, feeling a little unsure. Despite everything. “That if I…” he paused, throat tight.

Hans glanced at him, uneasy at first but quickly growing curious. Henry felt his face grow hot.

“If you…?” his friend prompted, leaning in.

He gritted his teeth. “If I… if I kissed you now you wouldn’t push me away,” he managed to say and fixed his gaze away from the other man.

Everything was still for a brief moment. 

“Does that mean you’ve done it…?”

“I… yes.”

Hans huffed in disbelief. “Then I demand that you do it to me too, because I don’t want to be the only one missing out.”

His face split in a grin. “Does it mean you believe me?”

“Kiss me and find out,” Hans challenged, crossing his arms in defiance. Henry knew he was trying to conceal the trembling in his limbs

He moved to grab his friend’s arm when a meek voice interrupted. “Um, could I ask for a dance?”

They both froze before they turned towards the direction of the woman in cream. His lord was the first to recover. 

“Apologies but I asked him first,” came the categorical response and then his arm was being pulled and Henry was being dragged away. Closer to the ballroom, closer to the music. Their earlier bravado was gone, reduced into a shaky mess. But if there was one thing you could count on, it was Hans Capon’s stubbornness.

“I’m going to teach you to dance,” his friend announced with a determined set to his jaw. 

Henry looked at him warmly. “No need,” he said simply and laid his hand on his shoulder, the other grasping for the noble’s fingers. 

The blond was visibly surprised. “You know-”

“You taught me,” he interrupted the question. “But it helps when you count.”

“This is the weirdest thing that has ever happened to me,” Hans muttered, shaking his head. “I am convinced I’m dreaming, Henry.”

He knew that feeling well.

And finally, he felt the touch on his shoulder blade as they came close enough for their breaths to mingle. 

“One, two, three,” Hans recited softly as they began to dance. It was different from the first time Henry did it. Gone were the laughs and the commentary. Instead they swayed in silence on the stone pavement, staring at each other like they couldn’t believe it was happening. Henry didn’t stumble once.

Their faces were inches apart and filled with wonder. They circled and circled, from one melody to another. 

“Just in case this isn’t a dream… I believe you, Henry,” Hans whispered to him eventually. “And I’m going to tell you a secret.” His heart lurched in anticipation. “The next time you meet me and try to convince me… tell me this. Tell me that you know that deep in my heart I call you my Lancelot,” he confessed, voice wrecked with emotion. 

He wanted to ask more, about the significance, the meaning, the name. But there was no time and he made a promise.

He raised his hand and twirled him, pausing when their arms were fully extended. Then pulled him towards himself again, until he was flush against Henry’s chest. He let go of his hand, wrapped his arms around his lord and kissed him, swallowing the surprised gasp with aching delight. His stomach felt like it was filled with fizzy wine.

The clock chimed and his head swam, leaving only the feeling of loss.

“Announcing Lord Gustav of Prachatice!”

He lured him to the fountain again.

“Before you say anything, hear me out,” he began. “I’ve been stuck in a loop, doing this ball over and over again. I don’t know why I’m stuck, I don’t know how to fix it. I need your help. We had this talk before. And you commanded me to tell you a secret to convince you.”

He gave Hans time to process, watching the various emotions war on his face. But he didn’t let him down. He merely let out a breath and asked: “What secret?”

“You told me to say that I know that you call me Lancelot in your heart.”

The gasp he heard had to hurt. It was that sharp. His lord stared at him wide eyed and almost fearful. He was clutching his own knees so hard his knuckles turned white. “If this is a ruse-”

“It’s not,” Henry covered the hand closest to him with his. “I promise you.”

Hans’ eyebrows shot up in disbelief. He was staring at their hands, uncomprehending, stunned and breathless.

“Christ Almighty,” his voice sounded strangled. “Did I tell you what it meant?” 

“No… there was no time.”

Hans swallowed. Then nodded. “Tell me then, what you know and what you’ve tried.”

Henry squeezed his eyes shut in relief. Hans trusted him, Hans believed him.

He told him about it all. 

“One thing that stands out is that we still don’t know where that damn ledger is,” Hans pointed out once they overcame their fluster. “Someone was getting mighty distracted.”

“Come off it,” Henry protested. “Have you seen yourself?”

“And you’re doing it again!” Hans giggled. “But really, Henry. Maybe start with that. God only knows why it would be connected, but let’s at least rule it out.”

“Aye, it does make sense,” he admitted. “I bet it’s in that guarded room.”

“Good luck with that one. I hope you manage to figure it out,” Hans told him with a sad smile. “Henry… ah… would you…?”

He knew what his lord was asking for.

They kissed until the clock struck midnight.

“Announcing Lord Gustav of Prachatice!”

He raced upstairs and dragged Hans away before he could even utter one word. The ladies looked at him in shock as Henry left them behind.

“Listen, I really need to know if that book is in this fucking room,” he told Hans, gesturing at the door guarded by two soldiers deeper in the hallway. 

“Christ, you are no fun,” his friend grumbled, looking upset. Henry could very much guess why. He even felt a little guilty, but he needed them focused.

“Any ideas?” he urged, impatient.

“I don’t think distracting the guards will work unless it’s something truly catastrophic. They are usually under very strict orders. We could wait until people are drunk and knock them out-”

“Out of question, I need to do it before midnight.”

“Why before midnight..?”

“Just trust me. Please.”

“Christ, fine. We should check it from the side of inner courtyard, see if we could get in through a window-”

“Oh yeah, there’s an open window in there at some point.”

“... Alright. I… Alright. Anyway, if you’re so well versed in all of it already, anything else interesting?” Hans asked, his tone sarcastic.

“There’s a kitchen below this room but I guess that’s not relevant.”

“It is, actually,” Hans said, looking at him oddly. “There could be a dumbwaiter in there.”

“A dumb what?”

“A dumbwaiter. It’s a little lift to get all sorts of crap into the upstairs room. Usually food and drink.”

“Alright? How does that help me?”

“You could use it to climb up. Christ, what is up with you?” 

“It’s that big?” he asked in genuine surprise. “Who the hell needs that much food?”

“Well, I don’t know if you’re going to fit but that’s why I’m suggesting you check.”

“Aye, aye,” Henry said, placatingly. “Thank you, really. I didn’t know a thing like that existed.”

Hans sniffed loudly but the prickliness eased. “Well if you want in before midnight you haven’t got much time left.”

“That’s alright, I’ll try next time.”

“Next ti- You’re not making a lick of sense.”

“I suppose I don’t,” Henry chuckled. Hans looked terribly affronted. “Let’s just wait here, I want to see if anything at all goes on in that room.”

“Really? You want to just stand here, doing nothing?”

“Aye. But I could bring us something to eat while you watch? I won’t be long.”

“Christ. You and food. Yes, fine, go. It’d better be tasty, Henry.”

“Only the best for you, My Lord,” he tried to joke but it came out terribly genuine. He scurried down the long hallway to the balcony and then to the tables. The fruit Hans liked was still there. He added a variety of other things too, paused to think and grabbed a goblet of wine. 

“Did I miss anything?” he asked while he was back. Hans was leaning against a window with his arms crossed, looking devastatingly handsome in the dim light of the oil lamps. 

“Not at all,” the blond sighed and instantly brightened at the sight of the wine. “Ah, you do have some sense left,” he said, taking the goblet from Henry’s hand.

“Fucking hell, don’t drink it all at once.”

“Shut it, I need it,” came the petulant answer. 

Henry shook his head. “Eat this, you will like it,” he held the plate between them.

They chatted like normal, like before Henry knew all that he knew now. Hans didn’t try to engage his persona, clearly having given up on it for the time being. 

He hated it.

But despite it all, despite being upset - Hans was still here, with him, going along with his ideas even when he deemed them mad.

How could he not love this man?

It would go against his very essence.

“Ah,” Hans hummed at some point into a conversation about which fruits ferment well, of all things. “Someone came out,” he waved at the door.

Henry froze. They were close to midnight, he was pretty sure. Slowly, not wanting to draw attention to himself, he glanced at the well-dressed older man who walked out of the guarded room with a thin book cradled with one arm to his chest.

It was the one, he was sure of it. 

He looked at Hans, who was already staring back at him and they nodded to each other at the same time. 

They let the man pass and then followed. 

It was mere minutes to midnight.

With a thundering heart, Henry walked the hallway and then the balcony. The man was headed towards the main gates. They rushed down the stairs, past the entrance and watched as he entered a carriage.

The clock struck midnight the moment he disappeared out of their sight.

Henry’s head swam.

“Announcing Lord Gustav of Prachatice!”

It had to be it. It had to be. It was too much of a coincidence, his gut was screaming at him that it had to be that.

He wandered about near the entrance, walking in slow circles. There was a way to check. There was a way to confirm. 

Hans found him quickly and it wasn’t hard to convince him to wait there together - near the food, near the wine. Or maybe it wasn’t even that. Perhaps just Henry was enough.

Right from the start.

How blind he must have been, wallowing in self-pity. They could have had this so much earlier. What signs had he missed or misinterpreted? What would have happened if his friend hadn’t decided to embrace his role with such gusto?

Would he ever realise?

“You have that look about you where I just know you are thinking too much,” Hans booped his nose affectionately. He wouldn’t have noticed the affection before this cursed ball. Now every gesture seemed to be dripping with it.

“Handsy little bugger,” he caught his lord’s wrist playfully.

“You haven’t seen me handsy yet, Henry,” he wagged the finger of his captured hand. “I could be so much worse.”

Oh, I know.

“I am very tempted to tell you to have at it.”

“You think you can handle me at the height of my charm?” Hans waved at himself with one hand in a boastful manner. The other was still in Henry’s greedy clutches.

“How is that different from how you normally act?” he asked innocently and really, it didn’t seem possible that he would ever get tired of that pleased smile that bloomed on Hans’ face every time he flirted back.

“We need to get you to events like this more often if this is what finally gets you to appreciate me properly.”

“Have I been neglecting you, My Lord?” he smirked and tugged at the hand still in his grasp. Hans made half a step forward. “How can I rectify that?” 

“Christ,” Hans chuckled. “Maybe we should’ve dyed you gold so you’d be Petr instead.”

“Losing your confidence so soon?”

“You’re making this into competition, aren’t you.”

Henry blinked. He wasn’t, but then… this was Hans. He was the one always turning something into a contest.

It wouldn’t hurt to indulge him.

“And I think I’m winning,” he said, already aware of what he was baiting. His blood thrummed in anticipation. Still. After all that happened. He hoped it would never stop.

Hans was on him in a blink with a quick step and fingertips on Henry’s beard, lips curled into a smirk and only inches away. “Are you?” Hans purred. And truly, if this had been the first time, then Henry would’ve been done there and then, reduced into an affected mess.

But it hadn’t been, and the knowledge of it still sent him reeling, filling him with boldness he wouldn’t normally dare to entertain. 

He could see his lord tense when Henry inched forward, not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel his warmth. He was sure he was diminishing the effect he had on the other man with the fact that he couldn’t stop smiling. “I am.”

Someone cleared their throat pointedly and Henry suddenly remembered that they were standing at the table, clear in sight of absolutely everyone in the ballroom. He let go of Hans’ wrist and his friend leaned away from him, pouting slightly. But not embarrassed. 

“This isn’t over,” Hans told him. “You haven’t won yet.”

He had to admire that, as stupid as it was. His friend seized the opportunity whenever he could, regardless of the matter of it - even if it was the ability to flirt shamelessly with Henry under the guise of playing a role. It was like feeling out the ground before he decided whether it was safe to commit or not. Like planting a seed of an idea only to collect on it later.

Hans tried. And it was more than could be said about Henry.

He adored it - the way his friend followed his heart, for better or for worse. He didn’t deny himself a shot at happiness - like a tree that climbed towards the sun, no matter where it grew. So when he got dragged into a more private corner - still within a line of sight of the entrance - he wasn’t surprised at all. He welcomed it instead.

What did surprise him was a cheeky squeeze of his arse that made him jump and blush so fiercely that Hans burst out laughing. “Christ, apologies,” the blond wheezed out while Henry tried to regain some composure. “Your face is about as red as this stupid vest, oh God !”

Henry really wanted to kiss this idiot right there and watch that pretty face go slack with shock, but if he did that he would miss what he was waiting for. And truly, wasn’t it mad that he was still considering it?

Maybe if he had more time…

But midnight was fast approaching.

So he settled for rattling him one last time, just for the hell of it. 

He caught Hans’ hand, startling him into silence, and brought it to his lips. “I concede, My Lord,” he said against the gloved fingers. “You win,” he closed his eyes and planted a lingering kiss.

He wished there was no fabric between them.

Something for the future, then.

“I win, he says,” Hans mumbled, prompting him to open his eyes. “You never give up, do you?”

“You mind?”

“Goodness, no. I like it about you. Sometimes to my own detriment.”

The noble carrying the ledger appeared at the top of stairs - Henry almost didn’t see him, staring at his lord instead.

It tore him out of their little play and he sighed regretfully. “Unfortunately, the thing I was waiting for is here,” he gestured at the stranger. “Can you go and distract him for a couple of minutes?”

“What, you want me to talk to him?”

“Aye, just for a short while.”

“Ah well, if my favourite peasant requests so. Thankfully I have a mountain of experience with talking about nothing at all,” he drawled and sauntered over to the noble.

Henry couldn’t hear them and didn’t even want to. All he knew was that the man looked surprised at first, then fixed his face into an image of politeness, while Hans gesticulated wildly at him.

And then Henry watched the clock.

The clock hand circled slowly around the ornate face, passing the elaborate numerals. His palms grew clammy as his heart beat hard and out of rhythm. 

Please.

Twenty seconds to go.

Please.

Ten.

Let me be right about this.

The clock chimed midnight with a pretty melody.

And nothing happened.

His knees nearly buckled then, feeling weak, like a newborn cow’s.  He felt like he got punched in the chest - there was no air in his lungs.

“Christ, are you alright?” Hans asked him, concerned. He didn’t even notice when he came back.

“Yes, quick, follow me,” he rasped out and grabbed his lord’s arm, dragging him to the entrance. 

The man was halfway on the path to the carriage.

He could feel it in his gut. That was it. 

He turned to Hans sharply. “Thank you,” he said feverishly, and before the blond could even ask what was going on he pulled him into a kiss.

The carriage door slammed and Henry’s head swam.

“Announcing Lord Gustav of Prachatice!”

It was almost embarrassing how easy it was to get to the ledger. 

He snuck into the kitchen and just as Hans said - there was the dumb thing in there. He couldn’t remember the name. He could remember the purpose. He climbed inside the narrow lift and waited for the music to start. He used it to hide the racket he made while he pushed his whole body upwards through the wooden shaft. 

The ledger was on the desk - full of names John told them to look for. The noble who carried it out of the palace got choked out soundlessly after he got out of the thing. He stuffed the book in his coat and made his way back, sliding slowly and much more quietly now.

The whole endeavour took maybe half an hour.

Hans was looking for him already, Henry could see him wandering in the inner courtyard, head swiveling to left and right. 

The finality of it hit him then.

Whatever he would choose now… would stick with them forever. And they didn’t have time, they needed to run before the noble upstairs raised an alarm.

There was a temptation here - to leave and deal with it later, now that another task loomed over their necks. After all - Henry was sure about their feelings.

But a big part of him wanted Hans to have their first here, where he finally figured it out. Where everything was grand and special, where Hans gave him so much and yet remembered nothing of it.

It wouldn’t be fair to leave just like that.

But the time was running out.

“Here you are,” he heard Hans’ voice and it took everything from him not to break at that moment. “Where were you? I was looking all over.”

“Apologies,” he answered weakly. “I found the book.”

Hans stopped abruptly a couple feet away from him. “What? When? Already?” came the incredulous questions. 

“Mhhm,” he hummed, tugging it out from under his coat. “We need to leave.”

“Christ, I really have no use to you, do I?” Hans chuckled bitterly and it nearly split Henry’s heart in half. ”Could’ve come here alone, wouldn’t make a difference.”

Henry charged at him and made him flinch. He grabbed Hans’ shoulders and squeezed. “You have no idea how wrong you are,” he told him through a tightening throat. “I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for you.”

Hans looked taken aback but also scoffed a moment later. “Yes, because you wanted to keep an eye on me, Henry.”

“No,” Henry shook his head. “Wherever you go, I go. Always. It’s a vow, Hans. It’s not about keeping an eye on you. I wanted to be here with you. You have my word.”

“I… Well, alright, I suppose,” his friend looked at his feet. “Let’s go then, no use loitering around, eh?” Hans tried for a smile. It didn’t quite land.

“No,” Henry said firmly, making his decision. He stuffed the book back in his coat.

“No?” Hans repeated, confused. “But you said-”

“Have a dance with me,” Henry whispered, watching blue eyes widen. “Just one. And then we will go.”

Hans studied him for a wink. “A dance…? Do you even know how to?”

“I had a brilliant teacher,” he said quietly, placing a hand over his friend’s shoulder and feeling him still.

“Ah…” Hans breathed out. “It would be a waste to let this chance go, I reckon,” he whispered, taking Henry’s hand in his own. “It is such a lovely tune.”

“Lovely company too, I’d hope,” Henry said and was - finally - rewarded with a smile.

“For you, certainly,” Hans quipped, the smile growing. “Show me what you can do, eh?” There was a hand on his shoulder blade and they began to spin around, chest to chest and fingers intertwined. “Colour me surprised, I thought you were spewing horseshite,” Hans chuckled.

He watched his friend gradually relax in his arms, the bitterness giving way to joyful mirth. 

“Have you ever been twirled, Henry?”

“One or twice.”

“Dipped?”

A pause. “No…? Ack…!”

A laugh. “Looks like your teacher skipped a lesson.”

“Nobody in the ballroom did anything like that! Get me back up!”

One song ended and another began and Henry forgot all about his declaration. 

“Oh, somebody is fumbling his steps.”

“You made me lightheaded.”

“An expected reaction to someone as charming as me.”

“You make people faint just by being near…?”

“I don’t like what your tone is implying.”

“I think I’d love to see if I learned this new trick properly.”

“Don’t you da- ah!”

“How are you liking it down there?”

“Straighten me up this instant!”

The third song ended and they looked at each other, out of breath from laughing and flushed with feeling and effort. Hans’ grin was wide and lasting, almost matching Henry’s own. 

“What happened to ‘just one dance’?” Hans asked with a twinkle in his eyes. 

“I forgot about it the moment I had you in my arms.”

Hans guffawed, fanning his face. “Let’s run, Henry. Before they catch us with that stupid book.”

He couldn’t agree more.

Later, when they were back in the safety of their den, with the ledger deposited with Žižka and the masks discarded - Henry pressed his lord against the wall of their room, still in most of their ball clothing, but with gloves blissfully gone.

“Say, Hans, I have a question,” he said slowly, looking into dazed blue eyes.

“What is it?” his friend asked breathlessly, licking his reddened and swollen lips.

“What does it mean to be someone’s Lancelot?”