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Hans stared into the basin of water, watched as the sun rose in its reflection, as faint ripples trailed across its surface when a soft breeze entered from the window in his tower and caressed it. He hadn't slept. Couldn't. Each minute that brought him closer to the day's events felt as though it were an eternity. He felt as if he were trapped in a bog, he couldn't move, the peat and putrid water suffocating his lungs, keeping him from advancing through the tasks that were required of him.
He stared at the water. He watched the reflection of a bird flit by his window.
The sun had barely been up before he heard Henry knocking at his door. "Sir Hans?" He called in that way he did when he knew others might be listening. Hans' heart lurched. He wanted to run to him, he wanted to take his hand and flee with whatever they could carry. He wanted to throw up.
But he couldn't move. He couldn't do any of those things. He stared at the water.
He listened, with painful clarity, at the almost silent opening of the door. His lover's steps made no sound as they crossed the threshold. He thought Hans was asleep, and hadn't wanted to wake him, maybe planned to surprise him with a kiss as he so often did.
"Makes the morning feel a bit brighter, doesn't it?" Henry would whisper against his lips and he would smile because he was right.
Hans heard his steps pause, however, when he caught Hans sitting still as a statue in front of his basin.
"Hans?" He sounded confused, and Hans agreed. He wasn't quite sure what was going on either. "Hans, are you alright?" Before Hans could answer Henry was there, beside him. His warm hands seared into his skin. One gently moved over his back, the other squeezed his arm until it came to rest upon his cheek, turning his gaze away from the bowl until Hans was staring into an ocean. "Hey, we'll get through this," Henry's voice was such a comfort against his nerves, he almost believed it, "just one foot in front of the other, right?"
Hans wanted to laugh with how much Hanush truly owed this man, the only person that could ever have gotten Hans to follow through with this. His nephew's life saved countless times and finally married- Henry should have his own castle by now. Hans smiled fondly, holding Henry's hand against his skin, "Right."
"Alright, so what's first."
Hans sighed, "I have to shave."
"You are lookin' a bit prickly" Henry teased and ran a thumb across his blonde stubble.
Hans rolled his eyes and knocked his hand away, "Well, not all of us can grow a full beard over night, can we?" He refused to look at the self-satisfied expression he knew Henry would be wearing. His beard could come in full in a matter of days. Just one other thing he was better at, but Hans didn't mind. It suited him, even if he did at times miss his boyish face and kisses that weren't so prickly. "But I should trim my hair as well."
"Why didn't you go to a barber?"
"That would be too easy, wouldn't it." Like he wouldn't try to hinder these proceedings in any way he could, even if it was petty and ultimately futile. Henry scoffed at that, but Hans turned his gaze back to him as if to catch the sound in midair, "I want you to do it."
Henry sighed a laugh, "It's a fool of a man that would put his neck in the hands of anyone other than a professional."
"Henry, I've never for moment thought that I would ever come to harm by your hand," he reaches next to the basin to retrieve the blade and places it firmly in said capable hand, "I trust you." Thick fingers wrap around the tool as Henry's gaze softens into something undefinable. Hans can't stand it, "And you're good at just about everything else, aren't you? Just don't fuck it up."
Another small laugh, a victory, "Alright then." Henry rose to his feet and moved behind Hans. The lord closed his eyes and basked in the steady protective presence at his back. He was losing his freedom today, but he wasn't going to lose that.
His page worked in silence, diligently moving his head back and forth as the blade did it's job. They had little need for words this morning, what more was there to say? Hans simply savored the feeling of Henry's touch, his attention centered on him.
When his hair was shorn, Henry's steady hands guided his head backwards and Hans felt the knife's sharp edge against his throat. Briefly, he thought about all the other times he'd felt steel there, or the rope. He thought of all the men who had been here before him, as Henry's blade kissed and opened their throats. And Hans had walked into it willingly. He wondered if there was ever a time that Henry would have savored this opportunity to do him harm- his pompous, lordly life in his hands. He failed to stifle the shake of his body as the absurdity of it all manifested itself in a hysterical laughter.
"Oi, a bit less movement please? I'd hate to have to explain to the lords that I got you all the way here only to have lost you to a shaving accident." Henry's admonishment held no bite, though it did contain some level of amusement.
Hans opened his eyes, drawn back to the ocean that awaited him there in Henry's. He lost his breath, for perhaps the hundredth time, at the mere sight of him. His face was set a look of upmost concentration, his eyebrows slightly knit together in his focus. The blade glided. A steady rhythm from a steady hand. The blade glided, sharp as steel could get, the noise of it moving across his skin almost sounded like music. Hans had never felt safer.
"Hal, if I were to ever be felled by your blade, I'd probably deserve it." Henry's hand stilled, his eyes stricken for just a moment, before he cleared his throat and completed his final stroke.
"All done." Henry's voice was rough. Hans sat up as Henry moved towards the basin. He grabbed a neighboring rag and dipped in into the water, squeezing out the excess, before he turned to face Hans. "Lets take a look at you," he knelt down, now slightly below his lord's gaze, and moved the cloth gently across the now sensitive skin, removing any stray hairs. His gaze was soft, but it made Hans feel too seen, too exposed. The cool water was like a balm, a cleansing salve for his body and his wounded pride.
"I must seem like a petulant child." His voice came out like a croaked whisper.
"That isn't what I see," Henry brushed gently the now smooth skin of Hans' cheek with the back of his hand, "I see a young man who wishes to follow his heart. A birdie longing for the sky instead of his cage. I find no shame in that."
His voice was as soft as his touch, like he was trying not to spook an animal. He didn't look away from Hans, and as their eyes met Hans knew he felt no shame, only sorrow for the duty they were both bound to. Hans begged his lungs to work and leaned forward to rest their foreheads together. "Hal, if this were any other life-"
"There's no use in wishing that my lord, we've only got the one," fingers curl against the back of Hans' neck, "even if that were false, I'm only guaranteed to have you in this one, and I'd not trade that for anything."
The lips that meet Hans' are sure and steady, and unlike the blade wielded earlier, they cut to the heart of him. Hans had to remind himself that this was not their last kiss, only one of many more to come, but it didn't stop him from savoring taste of him, the scratch of his beard, the warmth of his mouth. He longed to bury himself in that warmth, knew achingly that now was not the time. Henry kissed his cheek, lips moving to his neck as his arms moved to embrace him and there they held each other.
Not far, the church bell sounded the hour.
"Lets get you dressed," was all that was said as they broke apart, and with Henry's help, the Lord of Pirkstein was soon dressed in his wedding finery. The man took a step back to assess their work.
"Well?" Hans fidgeted with his buttons, he felt as though he could feel Henry's hands on his skin.
"You look beautiful." The man sounded breathless and the compliment made Hans burn, he had to look away.
"Not handsome?"
Henry came in close to him now, shaking his head, "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," and kissed him again. This time Hans felt the emotion rise up in him like a wave, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He made himself pull away and move to the window with a muttered excuse of needing some air.
He could hear the castle stirring now, the excited hubbub of the wedding finally breaking the small peace they had managed to find this morning. He wished that they could stay here longer, he prayed that this moment would not vanish so quickly. Hans turned to see that Henry had removed his shirt, folding it and placing it on the nearby chest.
"What are you doing?"
Henry extends his arm, holding out the short blade to him. "I'd have my lord return the favor, if he would not mind the delay."
Hans stared at him for a moment, understanding coming to him slowly. It was a fine beard, one any knight would be proud to wear. It was handsome and masculine, lordly even. But whether it was in an effort to extend their time together or to have them be on some equal ground, perhaps some mix of the two, Henry was giving this of himself. Hans would be beside himself to refuse the offering. He reaches out and takes it.
"Finally admitting yourself the fool, are you?" an echo of Henry's earlier words, a feable attempt at levity.
"Aye," Henry smiled, "as I ever was."
Hans replied with a timid laugh, humbled by the weight of the tool in his hand. It suddenly felt much heavier. "Alright. Would you care to sit?"
"I think I'd prefer it like this, if you think you can manage." They were standing chest to chest. A harder angle for the task, but not impossible.
"You just want to gape at your lord a bit longer, do you?"
"Just a few minutes longer, if I'm able." He says it so brazenly, Hans' cheeks heat under the attention.
"Alright just don't move, I don't want to get blood on my clothes."
"I wouldn't dream of it my lord."
Hans took a deep breath, willed his hands to be sure, as Henry's were for him. There was no wedding, no lordship, or people. Just the two of them and this tower. Hans sets to work, knife gliding in much a similar way as it did earlier, revealing more and more of Henry's face. Hans could feel his soft breaths as they puffed against his fingers.
"While I have you here," Hans starts, "I want to thank you. For everything. For your patience. Your understanding. For loving me."
"I-" Hans forces his chin up to get at his neck.
"Don't move!" He needed to get his out, "I'm about to go out there and take vows in front of God to a perfectly lovely woman, but I want you to know that my heart is yours. Whatever my duties in this marriage, I-" he swallowed, courage steadied his hand and his voice, "I vow to you now that I'd follow you into Hell, Henry. And I give you my word that I'll love no one but you until the end of my days." He kept his hand firm against Henry's chin so he could get the final stray hairs that remained and to avoid looking him in the eye, even as he felt the man struggle against his hold. The resulting jerk caused the blade to finally bite into flesh and Hans watched as red beaded on his skin. Before it could fall he leant forward and pressed his lips gently to the spot, "I'm sorry," he whispered into his skin, hoping Henry felt his remorse at having failed him. Henry slowly took the blade and set it down, only to grip at Hans the minute they were freed from it's weight. His kiss was fierce and heady, their bodies pressed together nose to navel as Hans melted into it.
"You beg forgiveness for a scratch when your words burn me like a holy fire," he could feel Henry's voice rumbling in his own chest, "My oaths are already sworn, but I'll swear it again, I'll whisper the words with her in that church so that God knows that I love you, Lord Capon. Hans. My Hans," his words melted away as their lips met once more and Hans felt a solemn joy wrack his heart as tears finally slid down his cheeks.
They stole as much time as they dared. Tears were kissed away, and clothes were eventually donned and straightened. With his heart full, Hans finally met the day that awaited him. At the altar he stood tall and listened for the sound of a vow softly echoed in the house of God.