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Henry was asleep against a dirty pile of hay, when Hans found him in the stable that morning.
“Henry!” He called down jovially, half thinking the volume alone would do the trick of waking him. Henry, the poor sod, was slumped uncomfortably against some hay that was overdue for mucking. His limbs bent uncomfortably around him and the visor on his helmet was shut. Hans nudged Henry's boot with his own. A chunk of dried mud flew off the worn sole in the process— Hans made a face, and Henry didn’t wake up.
Slanted light crept in through the slits in the wood illuminating the stable in a golden haze, while the mist rising from the grass outside cast the land in a fog that was neither eerie nor peaceful, just heavy.
The men had returned during the night, too few of them for it to be a cause of celebration. It was apparent Henry didn’t make it far after he tied up his horse. He made for a sorry sight. Hans recognised vaguely, maybe for the first time, that Henry had no real home anymore, not even a bed. He had seen him in the camp outside the gates one too many times and the thought had something in his chest tightening.
Despite the increasing racket of morning chores occurring outside and Pebbles looming over her master solemnly, Henry still didn’t wake.
Hans stared down at him, giving the horse a sidelong look along the way.
He reminded Hans of the faceless men at arms he saw as a child fully clad in shiny steel, ones that would march off and never come back. He was so still underneath it all, and Hans, letting his mind wander too far, had a sudden terrible thought that left his skin feeling sickly with cold sweat.
“Henry!” He said again, almost shouted, and he knelt down to shake him by the shoulders. Damn his hose, they needed a wash anyway.
A low groan that sounded more annoyed than pained came from the pile of metal and chainmail below him and Henry pushed the helmet up and off his head. His hair was stuck to his forehead and he had small red lines around his face from where the bascinet dug in.
“Sir? What’s going on?” He said with the tendrils of sleep still holding him, and then suddenly wide awake “Did something happen?”
His eyes were huge, as wild dogs often were, skittish but always at the ready. It made something in Hans want to soothe him like he would his horse and he found himself relenting his incoming teasing.
“No Henry calm down, it’s alright, I just—” he paused. “couldn't find you is all.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but Hans never boasted about his honesty. He had asked around for Henry since the soldiers stumbled through the gates, wounded and tired, only receiving half answers and vague gestures, enough to know that Henry had at least returned alive. They must have just missed each other. It didn’t help the knot in his stomach, and it troubled him that it was there in the first place. How it had nestled there slowly but surely, a growing, devastating concern for the blacksmith's boy.
Henry looked up at him dazed, his face ruddy in his coif.
“But here you are!” Hans said cheerily, all teeth and feigned indifference.
Henry blinked the sleep out of his eyes and ran a gloved hand down his face, through tracks in his cheeks that Hans hadn’t commented on.
Something shifted behind Henry’s eyes, perhaps the moment he became conscious enough to remember his duty, to let the slow slick of worry creep in. “I need to speak to Sir Radzig.” Henry said eventually, fussing in his makeshift bed and wincing like something pained him. Hans felt the same sometimes, after the few seconds of peace when he woke, suffocating and crushing until he got out of bed.
In the moment though, Hans could only gawk at him, half in awe of Henry’s unwavering loyalty to Sir Radzig, and half because not two moments ago he had looked so deflated that Hans thought he might have died during the night. He squinted out of the stable doors, it was barely sunrise and the morning dew had not yet dried.
“Henry, surely you need to rest properly before you go marching out again- at least have a bath for pity sake, you smell worse than the animals.” He didn’t know why he said that last part, only it came out, harsh and uncaring.
Henry’s face tinged red over his poorly concealed embarrassment and averted his eyes. A crisp resignation settled over Henry’s face then, the sort of face a reluctant page might make at an unkind master, and Hans' stomach sank because it didn’t suit him, it didn’t suit them.
“Come now Henry I didn’t mean it like that, I’ll take you myself. I’ll even pay for it. God knows you’ve earned it.” Hans didn’t want to sound desperate but it was a near thing, enough for Henry’s ears to prick at his wavering tone and peek up at him again.
Henry, for all his stubbornness and newfound bravado, almost instantly crumbled at the offer. His shoulders sagged ever so slightly.
“Alright. Thank you sir. But I do need to speak with Sir Radzig afterwards.” Hans extended a hand down to Henry and to his delight, he took it. “Absolutely Henry, you deserve it.” He was heavier than he looked, so Hans dug his heels into the earth below him and pulled. “And don’t worry, I’ll see to that. But I’m sure Radzig won’t appreciate being woken either, now that I think on it.”
Henry wavered on his feet for a moment before righting himself. As soon as he took a step though, his legs wobbled and buckled, and he almost fell face first back into the hay. Hans caught him by the elbow.
“Are you injured?” Hans asked.
“No sir, I’m fine. Just a bit stiff is all. We can go now.”
The next step he took went as well as the last and he grabbed onto Hans and then immediately pushed himself away as if he was struck.
“Shit. Sorry, sir.”
“That’s quite alright. Here,” Hans ducked under Henry’s outstretched arm and slung it over his shoulders. "Now we go.” He hoped nobody saw them, Christ, what would they think.
Henry weighed heavy on his shoulder, his whole body was slumped and his feet dragged.
As they walked out of the stables, Hans piped up again. “I can throw in something extra if you like, I’m sure she’d be thrilled.” And he winked at Henry's widening eyes. It couldn’t hurt to offer, he thought.
“No.” Henry paused to catch his breath. “No, god no.” They rounded the corner to the gates, but the look on his face was hollow so Hans didn’t question him.
Henry had tentatively agreed to let Hans take off his armour after the face he pulled trying to do so himself. There was a discarded pile on the wooden floor, and Hans was making himself busy meticulously untying the closures to Henry’s gambyson.
“Tell me Henry, how many of those whoresons were there? The men haven’t said a word.“ Henry was silent for a beat before Hans continued. The gambyson was tugged off with a bit of effort on both their parts. Hans was toying with the strings closing Henry’s undershirt, he was taking far too long undoing them, stalling really.
“It was easy for you I’m sure, after all you did win the Rattay tournament only a fortnight ago. I bet they didn’t see you coming. ” Hans couldn’t keep the pride out of his voice even if he wanted to, although his coin did, those spurs were expensive.
“Sir, I-” Henry supplied weakly.
“Oh Hal don’t be so modest-”
“Sir!”
It sounded pained and Hans looked up at him then, and finally noticed the way Henry’s hands trembled at his sides, how his eyes were scorched red around the edges and how his breath stuttered. “Oh.” Hans eased his fidgeting on the strings, took a step back even though he didn’t want to move. What a fool he was! He couldn’t help the shame that crept up his spine, to question a man on the specifics of battle when the blood hadn’t yet dried. Henry's first battle, was his brain's delayed response.
“I’m sorry Henry, that was foolish of me, it can’t have been easy.” The words stumbled out of his mouth, rushed and embarrassed. Suddenly Hans felt so utterly juvenile compared to him, to all the men who fought and died while he was held up in Rattay answering to lords and settling petty disputes.
“I’m sorry.” He said again, softer. He pictured Hanush's disgruntled face.
“It’s ok.” Henry said and smiled, a small brittle one that didn’t reach his eyes.
Silence followed as Hans tugged off Henry’s undershirt leaving him in just his braies, and his mouth went dry when he saw the stare Henry was in. Almost every inch of him was covered in dark bruises, cuts old and new, all smeared under a layer of blood and dirt. The bleeding, which had stopped but was still fresh, looked to be from a single wound, concealed among the flecked lines crisscrossing over his chest and stomach. A lot of them were from training no doubt, he had seen Henry sparring with Bernard in nothing but common clothes once, and Henry, red in the face and panting, told him that steel plate could only protect him so much and he needed to get better.
Henry saw him staring. “It’s not all mine,” he said, “the blood, that is.” Hans wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted to know. It didn’t sound nearly as reassuring as Henry thought it to be and all Hans could do was nod dumbly.
“Sir, as much as I appreciate it, you don’t have to stay. I think I can manage myself. ” Henry said a moment after he had almost killed himself trying to get into the tub. He slipped, Hans startled, and in a fumble, caught him round the waist before lowering him in. He couldn’t tell if it was the heat of the water or embarrassment that made Henry flush from his ears to his chest, suddenly shy in the tub, it was an odd look on him.
Hans sat on a stool resting against the tub. His arms were strung over the edge, too close to Henry, and was idly scrubbing at his own hands that had gotten dirty in his scuffle with the armour.
“Nonsense Henry. You are injured and I can’t have an injured page.”
“But you’re getting wet, Sir.” Hans stopped scrubbing, he was leant so far into the tub that his elbow was in the water, slowly gathering the wetness so it ran further up the sleeve of his undershirt.
Hans made a tutting sound, and then in his most amorous voice he could muster,
“So I am.”
He grinned at Henry and something unfurled in his chest when Henry gave him a weak chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re disgusting.” Hans glared at him but there was no venom and Henry added quickly, “Sir.”
Zdena, the bathhouse maid, arrived with hot water and rags to get the grime off. She was more so doing Henry a favour than her job, so she pulled up another stool behind him and began on his back. He only had one wound that he would need the physician for, a gash on his flank where the edge of a sword got him, the rest was old and new, small and large, but each one stinging slightly in the hot water. Henry was leant forward with his arms crossed over his knees while Zdena raked the cloth up and down his back. “Sorry lad, this old blood is stubborn."
She was being as careful as it allowed, but Henry still winced with every wipe of the cloth. At first Hans just watched, until it became slightly unbearable seeing Henry bite his lip on every downstroke of the rag. He was far too polite, Hans decided.
“Give that here Zdena, I’ll carry on while you launder the clothes.” He said it before his mind registered, before he was fully aware of what he was offering. She didn’t look like she wanted to argue with a noble, so with a swift handing over of wet rags, and a whoosh of her skirt she was gone with the laundry basket.
“You needn’t sir, it's alright.” Henry said into the bath water, slightly breathless. His back was flushed an angry red.
“Come now Hal, you’re my friend.” Hans said a bit too softly. “Well, friends enough anyway.” Came a moment later, and he made sure to roughen his voice.
Hans stilled for a moment, not sure how to proceed. He’d never washed anyone before, let alone someone littered with such a myriad of injuries. “Tell me if it hurts won’t you, I won’t have my name being thrown round as a cruel master.”
He moved hesitantly towards Henry’s arm. Henry made a small noise, started to shift. “You don’t have to-”
“Shut up, Hal.” Said Hans as began to gently run up and down Henry’s arm from his wrist to shoulder. He made a fist and Hans noticed how his knuckles were split in some places, he was extra careful there. Henry caught his eye, there was something so sad in them that Hans almost wanted to weep for him.
He gently pushed down Henry’s head so he could get at the nape of his neck, and then at his hair which needed washing. He used his fingers to gently untangle the soft curls and scrubbed the strands between picking out bits of well, something.
“Thank you.” Henry said quietly, when he had finished.
“That’s alright,” and Hans saw the ripples dotting the bath water, dropping down from Henry’s face.
“Oh Henry-”
“Sorry.” Henry said, but he didn’t stop.
“Henry, I wasn’t going to tell you to stop–just,”
He didn’t know what to do, he wasn’t good at that stuff. He reached up to Henry’s hair again, petted at it lamely because it was all he could think of.
“You’re alright now,” he said. “I’m so sorry Henry.”
“There was so much blood. I- I don’t know how to stop seeing them.”
“Give it time, Hal.” His advise wasn’t settled in something personal, it was just what he heard other men say
He felt he was undeserving of Henry’s trust, definitely of his tears. His hands had a tremor to them as he attached gentle circles into Henry’s scalp.
The tears that were flowing down his cheeks didn’t quite quell as Henry’s face took on an expressionless look. They gathered and streamed down into the bath water making small plop noises. Hans moved the rag around Henry’s face but felt he was lingering so he restrained himself. It was a momentous task, to cheer him up, and one that he needed to fulfil.
One smile was all he could want, Henry hardly ever did, to him at least. He could count them on one hand— not that he was counting. He said his next words with the careful tonality of teasing that he had perfected, and prayed it wouldn’t upset Henry further. Hans ruffled Henry’s hair with his knuckles.
“Should I have your name drawn up for next in line to the throne?” He said “Since our roles have been replaced, that is.”
“Oh shut it.” Said Henry, but Hans could feel him smiling where he wiped his cheek, over the ruddy colour brought on by the hot water, and the tiny freckles he had never seen before. It was far too intimate, and Hans almost started to panic. He leaned back, resting the length of his arm along the edge of the tub, the rag was rough but Henry didn’t seem to mind it on his face. His eyes closed as Hans brushed under them.
Hans felt a soft thud against his bicep and wasn’t entirely surprised to find Henry’s head there. He didn’t think Henry realised, so he didn’t move.
Hans eventually broke the silence “Did you sleep much last night?”
“Not really.” Henry said into the fabric of Hans shirt, he really was quite out of it.
Hans hummed, pretending to think.
“I’ll be sure to do something about that.” Hans meant the spare room, but wanted to wait to tell him, so he could see Henry smile properly, see his nose scrunch up and his cheeks fill.
“Oh yeah?” Henry said, but his voice was too tired to come off any sort of way.
“I am a man of my word.” Hans said too quietly. Henry’s hair tickled his nose, because Henry had fallen asleep and he wasn’t going to wake him a second time.