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Hans felt safe in Henry’s arms.
There was no hunger or fear while he lay in bed with him, his face buried snugly against Henry’s chest. He could hear his heartbeat in there, a steady rhythm, slowly lulling him to sleep.
And Henry held him gently, his chin lightly resting on the top of Hans’ head, his fingers lazily tracing patterns across his back. Henry, the blacksmith, the fighter, who could tease him relentlessly and viciously, had been nothing but gentle from the moment he had decided to lock the door. In all his amorous adventures, Hans had never felt so well taken care of, had never felt so adored. Henry had been achingly tender throughout, and quite generous, too…
If Hans could choose a moment from his life to live in forever, this would be it: in Henry’s arms, in the afterglow of it all. He had never, not once, felt at peace like that.
He hadn’t planned on getting Henry into bed. Kissing him hadn’t been a calculated move to seduce him. No, Hans had acted out of pure instinct and want. And Henry was different than anyone Hans had ever wanted – he wasn’t the next court lady waiting to be conquered. He was… Hans didn’t even know how to put it into words. He just knew that the thought of losing Henry had overwhelmed him. Life without him felt impossible. He’d had to kiss him, otherwise he would have choked on the enormity of his feelings.
‘Hans.’
Henry’s voice gently pulled him back into the here and now – a time and place where Hans very much didn’t want to be. So he grumbled and nuzzled even closer to Henry to keep him from moving. But Henry still backed away carefully and placed a gentle kiss on Hans’ cheek.
‘I have to go.’
Reality came crashing into Hans’ state of bliss. His hands curled around Henry’s shoulders on their own accord, desperately holding on to the moment. But gently, oh, ever so gently, Henry disentangled himself from him.
‘I have to.’
Hans knew it was childish, but he refused to look at Henry, and instead buried his face in his pillow. There was a pause, then he felt the mattress dip and shift, as Henry sat up and left the bed. Hans shivered with cold all of a sudden, even though the fire was still going. He remembered that he was hungry and thirsty, too, and that they were under siege, and very likely wouldn’t survive. Every horrible fact of their situation came rushing back all at once. Most devastating of all was the simple fact that Henry had to leave him – and that he might never see him again. That this might be their last moment together.
Fuck.
Reluctantly, Hans gathered his courage and sat up. Henry had already slipped into his braies and was now pulling his shirt over his head. When their eyes met, he smiled softly.
‘Will you give me a kiss for good luck?’
Tears stung in Hans’ eyes, so he had to blink and look away.
‘Don’t leave,’ he said, embarrassed at how fragile he sounded.
‘I have to. It’s my duty.’
Hans looked up again as fear turned into anger. ‘No, it’s not! Sam volunteered first. Let him do it.’
‘By himself?’
‘Yes!’
Henry shook his head. ‘You don’t mean that.’
Hans huffed. He did mean it, actually, because any sacrifice was worth it as long as it kept Henry by his side. The problem was… well, the problem was that Henry wouldn’t be Henry if he’d agree with that. If he didn’t put his life on the line for others. If he didn’t do his duty. He wouldn’t be the Henry Hans had fallen for.
The anger deflated as quickly as it had come. Hans let his head drop forward in surrender. ‘It’s just… the thought of losing you…’ He couldn’t say it. God, he had never needed someone as desperately as he needed Henry.
Suddenly, tender fingers cupped his chin and tilted his head back. When Hans looked up, Henry stood over him.
‘I will come back.’
Hans was too busy with choking down tears to reply, so Henry took hold of his shoulders and gently pulled him into a standing position. Then he cradled Hans’ face in both hands and looked at him earnestly. ‘I will do everything I can to return to you. Anything. I promise.’
A sob escaped from Hans’ throat, and he threw himself into Henry’s arms.
They hugged for a long time, before Henry grabbed Hans’ upper arms, just a little too tightly, to push him back a bit. ‘How about my kiss for luck, then?’ he asked hoarsely, as if holding back tears, too. His smile was forced, but Hans tried to mirror it anyway.
Courage. Duty. A knight’s virtues.
If Henry could be brave, then so could Hans. For him.
He took care to remember their kiss well, lest it would be their last. He wouldn’t have needed to, though, because it kept burning on his lips anyway, long after Henry had closed the door behind him.