Chapter Text
The fields were long laid idle after the harvest, and with autumn’s hoarfrost slowly turning into winter’s rime, the muddy roads became slippery and dangerous. The mix of heavy snow, puddles and ice was ought to make travelling tedious and exhausting for both men and horses, but the Heavenly Father sometimes possessed the strangest sense of humour.
The procession headed to Rattay appeared on the horizon above Neuhoff sooner than the young lord had expected; and far sooner than he’d like. Alas, nothing could be done about that.
He didn’t feel the heavy pit in his stomach, weighted by his hurt pride and jealousy, that used to accompany him whenever he was expected to stand before his uncle, no. He’d like to think that he had long outgrown the need for the man’s approval. Yet something deep within still welted him slightly, the moment the stocky man jumped down from his horse in the Upper Castle’s courtyard.
“Uncle,” he smiled nonetheless and bowed courtly, just as he was expected, eyeing not just the man himself, but the rather impressive retinue that accompanied him as well. “I see the stay in Prague treated you well.”
“Hans.”
He thought for a moment that Hanush was far less subtle with his assessment of his looks, sly and ill-mannered as he could be, but the man quickly turned his piercing gaze away and took to looking around the courtyard instead.
“Welcome home,” Hans added still.
“Yes, yes, I see the town’s still standing. To everyone’s surprise,” Hanush laughed jovially, shoving his stallion’s reins into the stableboy’s hands and brushing the melting snowflakes from his heavy fur surcoat.
He didn’t seem to notice the slight twitch of Hans’s eyes, nor the corners of his mouth faltering. Not even when he took a decisive step past his nephew, briefly clapping his shoulder: “So, where is that boy of yours?”
---
The clinking of dull metal echoed through the grounds in front of the Rattay’s north gate. The small arena hosted a gathering of guards, all of them leaning on the wooden fence, watching the spectacle inside instead of practicing or standing on duty as would be expected.
Henry quickly sidestepped, his right foot digging into the drenched mud, and raised his arms to block Captain Bernard’s swing. The man may have been getting older, his hair becoming grayer and thinner by the year – something the lads often made jest of – but he was still as strong as an ox and equally determined.
Fortunately for Henry, the same could be said about him. He was breathing heavily through his closed visor but refused to show any sign of weakness, even after the long horseback ride he had just returned from. He waited for an opportunity, exactly as had been taught him by the man before him, circulating the arena and backing away from his opponent, until an open window presented itself.
Bernard swung again, first from above but changing direction at the last second, aiming for his left side. Henry, anticipating the motion, deflected the blow, knocking the Captain’s blade away from his body. The older man lost his balance, and Henry – stocky and broad-shouldered as he was – already knew that victory was his.
He grabbed the training sword by its blade, turned it around and smacked the side of Bernard’s helmet with the heavy pommel. The blow wasn’t too strong; he’d never intentionally hurt anyone during a sparring duel. Nevertheless, Bernard staggered backwards and raised his hand.
“I yield!”
The eruption of hurrahs and laughter was timid and a little subdued – considering the lad’s captain just got beaten up – but Henry put up his visor and grinned all the same.
“I’m sorry, Sir, you okay?”
The older man huffed and smacked away Henry’s hand that was trying to steady him.
“All good,” he breathed heavily, taking off his helmet. His face was red with heat and strain despite the freezing temperatures around.
Henry himself wasn’t doing much better. Just an hour ago, he had been almost hunching over Pebbles’ neck, trying to soak up her warmth, and now he could feel the sweat running down his back under the padded gambeson.
“My bad for teaching you that well.”
“Aye, Sir,” Henry giggled. “My victories are your victories.”
“Don’t get all sassy with me, kid,” Bernard grumbled and spitted onto the muddy ground.
This wasn’t the first time Henry had beaten him up, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. He may have been Rattay’s captain, but Henry was Lord Capon’s personal bodyguard. It was in everyone’s best interest that young lord Capon had the handiest swordsman around at his side, with all the trouble he used to get himself into. The two of them both, really.
What a steep rise in the world that was, for the blacksmith’s boy Henry used to be. His chest swelled with pride when he remembered the lad with useless arms and sloppy feet he had once been ordered to train. Not that he would ever tell him that.
“And what about you lot? Don’t you have something better to do?!” he shouted at the men gathered around the pen, evidently riled up by the loss. “Lord Hanush’s retinue is here. Is this how you plan on representing Lord Capon? By sitting on your arses instead of doing your duties??”
Henry was still grinning as he watched the men slowly leave the arena one by one. Some of them shouted their congrats or greetings at him, which he happily responded to, some of them muttered under their breaths about a ‘prickly old goat’, which – fortunately – the captain was too deaf to hear.
“You better report to Lord Capon,” Bernard told him, his head nodding towards the approaching tall figure of the nobleman that could be seen on the drawbridge. “I’d say you’ve wasted enough time already playing jester to those knobheads.”
“Aye, Sir,” Henry muttered as the captain left the arena, a much gentler smile settling on his face.
The blond hair of his lord was glistening with tiny specks of frost – he must have spent quite some time outside – as the rays of the slowly setting sun hit him in the perfect angle. He looked almost like an angel, radiant and divine, had it not been for the obvious frown of his brows and pale, exhausted face.
He came to him slowly, passing by the guards heading back to the castle, each step seemingly more difficult than the other, until he finally reached the arena and leaned onto the fence.
“You’re back.”
Henry hummed and stepped closer towards him.
“M’sorry I didn’t come to see you right away, I barely had time to untack Pebbles.” The guardsmen were all over him the moment his feet hit the ground of Rattay’s castle, shouting and blabbering over each other about some bet they made and how he ‘has to duel Captain Bernard right now ‘cause there’s load of groschen in it!’.
He couldn’t just refuse the lot, excited as they were, even though he was worn out beyond his own sanity and wanted nothing more than to go to his lord. He’d been thinking about his handsome face and warm presence for the last ten miles, practically non-stop, but the truth was, the picture he’d had in mind didn’t quite match the one in front of him.
Up close, Hans looked even more pitiful than from afar, the slouched shoulders obvious under the heavy embroidered coat he was wearing, his brows furrowed and corners of his mouth droopier than old woman’s chest. It wasn’t so difficult to guess why.
“Hanush’s here.”
Such a simple sentence, but coming from Hans’s mouth, it sounded like a scared child’s whine. It only made Henry’s smile warmer. He could be so dramatic when no one was watching. Henry cherished the fact – that there was a part of Hans only he could see – very deeply.
“I know, I’ve seen the horses in the courtyard.” They were hard to overlook, really. He wanted to ask about it, but Hans beat him to it.
“The first thing he wanted was to see Heinrich.”
Hans cast his eyes downwards, focusing on the mud sticking to Henry’s boots. He wanted to hug him so badly, but it was a regretful reality that he wasn’t allowed to. Not here, not now.
“I told him he isn’t well, that he needs to rest, but did he listen?” the young Lord continued, muttering under his breath. “I barely managed to fend him off, distracting him with wine and questions about Prague… Thank the Lord he loves to boast so much, or he would’ve barged right into his chamber.”
Henry sighed and rested his back against the fence. His look wandered over the small gorge eastward, to the frosty trees on the faraway hillside, while a lot of words were brewing inside of him. Words he was considering carefully.
“You know him,” he hummed and nudged Hans slightly; a touch so subtle no one around would notice. “He can be a little… intense, but he’s always been good to the boy.”
It was true. Hanush wasn’t overly affectionate or fatherly, Hans could certainly attest to that, but Henry could swear his face softened a little bit every time he held the cub in his arms. He scolded Hans for this and that, lectured him about parenting and how the young lordling should be handled, much to Hans’s dismay, but he never raised his voice to Heinrich, nor did he chastise his nephew in front of the boy. He showed more grace in the matter than any of them would have ever guessed.
“Maybe he really just wants to see him,” Henry dared to suggest.
“Yeah, maybe,” Hans scoffed. “But he shouldn’t disturb him! Not when I told him so. He needs calm and quiet, not my uncle pinching his cheeks and laughing about his ‘good-for-nothing father’.”
“Maybe Heinrich would appreciate it?” Henry continued. “He seemed a bit restless when I was leaving… sayin’ he feels well and wants to go to Sasau with me.” His lips curled at the memory; the littlest hands clutching at the sheets and furs, the bright blue eyes shining with equal measures of plea and excitement. It broke his heart a little to deny the rascal. But he would never go against his lord’s wishes.
“He could use a little distraction, maybe?
But Hans only shook his head.
“You know how he is. Swears he’s all well, begging to go out just for a minute, all while coughing his lungs out into the pillow and burning with fever. The physician said another week of his medicine and rest, so that’s what he’s gonna do.”
Henry sighed deeply, a small bit of frustration seeping into it. Hans was just so… headstrong sometimes. And he could bang on that thick skull of his for hours upon hours and no sound would come out of it. And he had the guts to call Henry stubborn. There was just no point in arguing, unfortunately.
He straightened his back and hopped over the barrier. He had to go about this in a different way, if he wanted him to change his mind.
“C’mon,” he nudged at Hans while contemplating his options. “I could really use some hot spiced wine right now. It’s been a fuck long day.”
---
The old, heavy wooden door creaked eerily as Henry stepped into the chamber. The room was quite large, with a big stone fireplace in one corner and a mighty carved bed with a canopy on the other side. Heavy velvet curtains in dark red were draped over the windows, only the flickering candles and burning embers illuminating the space.
Sat in a heavy chair by the bed was Lady Jitka, her face turned down to the embroidery in her lap, humming a soft song, barely audible.
Henry cleared his throat. “Excuse me, my lady. I hope not to disturb you.”
The small heap on the bed shifted with the sound of his voice.
“Oh, Henry,” Jitka looked up to him. “Not at all, please come in.”
She immediately shifted her focus back to her handiwork, paying him little attention. She was a marvellous woman, Henry thought; smart, dignified and stunningly beautiful, too. Whatever resentment he might have once felt towards her, he quickly became ashamed of it, once he’d come to know her.
He stepped inside and made his way to the bed, just as a tiny head full of golden curls peeped from under the blankets.
“Uncle Henry!” The boy yipped excitedly and scurried to sit up.
“Hi, little chick,” Henry smiled and sat on the bed right next to the boy. He gently caressed his flushed soft cheek and placed a little kiss on the crown of his hair. He had to hold himself from sniffing that warm, reassuring smell that reminded him of everything he loved.
But the woman beside them didn’t even bat an eye at the unusual affection, and Henry once again felt a surge of gratefulness for everything he had in his life. It was so easy to take it for granted.
He once did just that – had a family, a loving home, a partner he wanted to spend the rest of his life with – until he came to lose all of it in a blink of an eye. Never again, he’d sworn to himself, all those years ago. Never again.
“I brought you something,” he smiled mischievously, and watched as the child’s face in front of him lit up with excitement.
It was too easy to make the boy happy, nowadays, and Henry just couldn't get enough of it. He used to be so fussy as a toddler; crying and whining ‘til he turned blue, making everyone around pull on their hair and bend over backwards to calm the little gremlin down. Now – coming up almost six summers old – some of his more lordly traits were finally beginning to show.
Henry suspected it wasn’t all due to the simple passage of time.
From behind his back, he pulled out a wooden carved toy; a splendid, armoured knight, clutching a lance and a sword in his hands, and seated upon a noble steed. The piece wasn’t too big, just so Heinrich could hold it comfortably, but beautifully crafted and sturdier than he’d expected.
The amount of groschen he paid to the travelling craftsman in Sasau for it almost made him twirl inside out, but for the look on the boy’s face, it was worth it.
“Wha-“ the little boy let out, his tiny mouth agape and eyes shining with pure adoration. Those small hands of his reached out to the toy but were stopped when Lady Jitka spoke up.
“What do we say, dove?” Her tone was gentle, yet stern, just like the woman herself. The curls that adorned the child’s face were a gift from her noble bloodline, but he had inherited so much more from her than just the texture of her hair. He really was a perfect blend of both his parents.
“Come on, Uncle Henry gifted you something nice. What do we say?”
“Thank you, Uncle Henry!”
The man’s face just about melted with affection, especially as Heinrich still battled with sounding the ‘R’ in his name properly but trying very hard not to show it. How a child could be so equally bashful and stoic as that would never cease to amaze him.
“You’re the most welcome, little chic,” he smiled. Before he handed him the toy though, he had to show him one more thing. The pure astonishment of Heinrich, when he detached the wooden knight from his horse and gave him both pieces separately, was nothing short of priceless.
“Very glad you like it,” Henry laughed, but the little Lord was way past listening to him, attaching and detaching the two toys and inspecting the clever mechanism very thoroughly.
Henry watched Heinrich with a content expression and strange peace within him, only occasionally glancing sideways towards the Lady of Rattay. She seemed as unbothered as a saint, considering she most likely spent the whole blessed day in this stuffy chamber, with no one for a company but her restless son.
“I’m gonna call him Cake!”
“Huh?” Henry spun his head around and focused his gaze on the wooden horsie Heinrich was shoving towards him. “Oh! Like your pony?”
“Yup!”
“So the knight is you, then?” Henry smiled warmly and took the figurine in his hands.
“Um!” Heinrich nodded fervently. “I hope Cake isn’t lonely when I’m here…”
There was a small taint of gloom in Heinrich’s voice, and Henry felt his heart clench.
“He’s not, don’t worry,” he reassured the child and ruffled his hair a bit. “He’s got Pebbles and Caballus there, and all of the other horses too… And don’t tell anyone, but I sneak him an apple or two every time a pass the stables.”
The boy’s face seemed to brighten up a little. “Okay. I just… I really want to ride him again!”
“You will. And very soon, don’t worry.”
The chamber was way too quiet not to hear the scoff Lady Jitka let out. Fortunately, Heinrich didn’t seem to notice, and it was just Henry’s brows that curled into a tiny wave.
“For real?” The boy’s eyes gleamed with hope, so glaring Henry didn’t dare to crush it.
“Aye,” he answered. “As soon as the physician says the illness is all gone, we’ll go on a ride together.”
“But…” The child’s face dropped. “But he told Father another week at best! That’s not fair, I’m not feeling sick!”
Henry let out a deep breath and not only because he felt Jitka’s piercing gaze scorching through his nape. What was he supposed to say? How could he crush his little soul when he himself thought this bed riddance was deeply unnecessary?
“Your father worries about you.”
That was about the only thing he could tell him. And it was the truth.
“But I’m not sick anymore!” Heinrich cried out, tossing the wooden figurines onto the blankets and burrowing his face underneath them.
“Birdie…” Henry tried to coo at him, but Heinrich was having none of it, just like his father.
“No! Leave me be!”
He exhaled deeply and shot a very apologetic look towards Jitka.
She looked so unimpressed with him he too wanted to hide beneath the furs and not come out ever again. Regrettably, that didn’t seem to be an option.
“Pardon me, my lady,” he excused himself and stood up to leave the chamber. He’s done quite enough for today.
Walking down the empty hallway within the stone walls of the Upper Castle, he found himself lost in thought. It was so sad to see little Heinrich like this, but what could be done? Hans was the lord. And most importantly, he was the boy’s father. He was the one to decide his child’s fate, so to speak.
Even if Henry wanted to smack the thick skull of his for the way he was going about it.
“Henry, wait!”
He barely registered the voice calling out to him, so he startled a little bit when a small but resolute hand grabbed him by the elbow.
“My lady?” His brows shot upwards.
“Oh, cut the crap, Henry!”
Standing in front of him in dark green robes wasn’t the dutiful wife and mother that sat in a chair by Heinrich’s bed. No, this was the Jitka that snuck out of her chambers in the middle of the night and hid in the stables to catch him and her husband red-handed, confirming her suspicions after withstanding months of their secret glances and hushed whispers.
Oh boy, they weren’t being nearly as sneaky as they thought they were. But that was beside the point.
“You’ve got to do something!” she demanded in a quiet but very determined voice.
“About what?”
“Don’t be daft! You know very well about what!”
Yeah, he did. Henry grumbled and twitched his shoulders in an uncertain gesture.
“But what can I do?”
“Mary and sweet Jesus,” Jitka rolled her eyes. “How about you talk to that donkey of a husband of mine? You’re the only one he listens to!”
The corners of his lips quivered with amusement, even though this whole situation was far from humorous. There was just something about a noble, fragile-looking lady speaking like that…
“I tried!” He held up his hands. “But he just won’t budge. He worries too much, what happened the last time was… Well, he just doesn’t want to take any risks.” Not that his behaviour was entirely unreasonable. Henry too still felt the cold chills upon his spine when he remembered it; sitting by Heinrich’s bed and praying for a miracle.
“I don’t care!” Jitka exclaimed, even though it was clear she held more than a tad bit of sympathy for her husband’s feelings. “He’s going to drive the poor boy mad, and I’m not going to idle by and let that happen.”
Henry understood her, he really did. The problem was, he understood both of them.
“I can try…”
“Henry!”
“Fine! I’ll try, I promise.” What else was he supposed to say? Or do, for that matter.
“Good,” Jitka nodded and her expression finally softened. Had he been a lesser man, he’d have to admire the way the lit candles on the walls cast golden shadows on her pale cheeks and auburn hair. She really was beautiful.
“See you, then,” she nodded and turned around to leave, not doubt returning to Heinrich’s chamber.
“You too, my lady.”
Henry stood in the hallway for a few moments afterwards, thinking about the funny ways God liked to toy with them, but then he shook his head and resumed his walk through the castle. He selfishly wondered – just for a second – if maybe, he should’ve stayed in Sasau for a few more days.
---
“Nothing quite like feastin’ in your own hall, eh?” Hanush laughed and downed a huge bite of roasted pheasant with a gulp of thick red wine.
Henry glanced at Hans on the other side of the table and immediately thought the same thing he must have been thinking, judging by the rigid, almost constipated smile he threw at his uncle.
The ways in which Sir Hans had grown and matured since he was just a spoilt lordling terrorizing Rattay’s taverns and wenches alike could easily be measured by the fact that he not only nodded politely – although the scrunch of his face perhaps did hint at his true feelings – but also failed to mention that this place had long since ceased to be Hanush’s ‘own’. Pointing that out would do nothing but stir emotions and quarrels long-buried, and Henry couldn’t be more proud that Hans recognized that and kept his mouth shut.
To protect his lord from having to answer, he raised his own goblet and smiled: “Just like the old times, Sir.”
He drank up, the wine soothing his tongue over and warming his belly, and cast a barely noticeable, reassuring smile at the man in front of him.
In a way, it really was. He remembered the days he had spent at this table, or in Pirkstein, with Sir Hans, Sir Hanush and his Lord Father there as well, eating and talking about everything and nothing. Many years had passed since he first set foot in the dining hall in Pirkstein.
Although the memory was still clouded by the pain of those days – one he was sure would never quite leave him – he did remember it fondly. Happiness, he had learned, needed to be fought for. And that made it all the more worthwhile.
“Where is father, anyway?” Henry asked when he washed down the thoughts with yet another gulp of the sweet liquid.
Sir Radzig wasn’t among the retinue that had arrived with Sir Hanush, he was sure. However, he confirmed in a letter that he would ‘be most delighted to return to Rattay and spend some time within its walls with his son’, so he must have gotten held up somewhere on the road.
“Ah, Radzig, well…” Hanush chuckled and, in a gesture very unlike him, shifted uncomfortably in the humongous wooden chair. “He’s got quite a journey to get here, I must say, and with the snow covering the roads… no wonder he’s taking his sweet time.”
“What do you mean?” Hans asked, lifting his curious glance from the fragrant roast on his plate before Henry had the chance. “I thought he was in Prague as well. Weren’t you visiting him, Uncle?”
“I was,” the stocky man nodded. “But Radzig, he… had some business to attend to, so to speak. With a certain noble lady, as far as I am aware.”
Henry felt his eyebrows shoot high up. A noble lady? His father hadn’t mentioned anything of such sort. The juicy, spiced pheasant suddenly felt heavier in his mouth, and he swallowed the bite with some effort.
He saw, with the corner of his eye, both Hans and Lady Jitka at his side glance his way, but he didn’t return their gaze. There wasn’t any reason for concern, really.
“Interesting,” he said, as if a reaction were expected from him. “Hope it’s just that and not a bandit ambush or an impassable road.” The smile came in easily; perfectly polite.
Seeing his compliance, Hanush snorted and eased his shoulders. The wine must have loosened his tongue quite a bit, as the red began creeping up his neck and face. He always became louder when he drank, Henry remembered, often scolding his nephew for the very same thing he was guilty of.
“If it were me, I wouldn’t trade a pretty lady’s warmth for a cold and icy road, I’ll tell you that.”
The plate clinked as Hans dropped his fork onto it, clearly offended.
“Uncle!”
There was a sudden surge of embarrassment washing over Henry’s body, making him avert his eyes and stare into his plate. Strange, considering the fact he spent a good portion of his adulthood amongst guards and soldiers, jesting in much more salacious and crude manner than this. He hid it behind his goblet and another bite of the food, though, praying the blush of his cheeks was not as hot as he felt it.
Hanush chuckled but bowed his head a little. “I apologize, my lady. I forgot my manners.”
“Think nothing of it,” Lady Jitka replied, though it was clear to anyone but Hanush that Sir Hans wasn’t offended on her behalf.
Henry could tell by the faint nudge of Hans’s foot under the table. He raised his eyes to meet his; the gentle blue trying to reassure him even without words. Meanwhile, Lady Jitka giggled at something Hanush said – the words lost and unrecognizable in Henry’s ears for the moment – redirecting the conversation to safer waters.
Henry appreciated it, though their concern was wasted. He smiled at Hans, letting him know he was fine, and forced his mind into calmness. There was nothing to fret about, really, he could ask father about it when he arrived.
Grabbing another slice of meat and a hunk of freshly baked bread, he let himself be indulged in those earthly delights rather than dwelling on Hanush’s statement.
Especially when he had other matters to worry about.
---
“There you go, pretty girl,” Henry cooed at the grey mare as he fed her little pieces of wilted carrot one by one. “It’s good to be home, huh? You must be so tired, you poor thing. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”
Pebbles may have been old, stubborn and even called ‘hideous’ by some people – totally unjustly, of course – but she was the most reliable horse he’d ever met. He would never trade her for a more majestic steed, ever. She was his first horse, and his friend, and they’d be together as long as they could.
“You got room for one more, or should I leave you two alone?”
Henry just smiled, not even turning towards Lord Capon, as he continued to fuss over Pebbles.
“You might squeeze in, but my girl gets a little bit jealous.”
“Yeah, I know,” Hans snorted and leaned onto the barrier that divided the stalls. He liked stables, both the warmth and the way they smelled. He used to spend so much time here in his youth days, he remembered a little bitterly. Not that he was old, of course, but sadly, he didn’t have as much time to spare nowadays as he did back then. It gnawed on him sometimes, truth to be told.
Nevertheless, he observed Henry with a strange sense of contentment. He might’ve had some opinions about the nag of his, but learned to keep those thoughts to himself. He maybe even liked the beast in some way. There was just something calming about the picture in front of him.
“Something on your mind, Sir?” Henry hummed, snapping his stream of thoughts, and reached for a soft brush hanging from a nail on the wall.
Hans was silent for a moment.
“Not really,” he replied eventually, as if weighing the answer. “Just wanted to see you.”
The young knight smiled to himself. “You could’ve waited in your chamber… or in the dining hall… or anywhere, really.”
“True,” Hans shrugged. “But I like it here. No witnesses.”
Henry couldn’t help but snort. Yeah, he remembered what had happened in this very building and he was sure Hans did too. He didn’t say anything, though, just started brushing out the dust and mud from Pebbles’ fur.
Hans fell quiet once again, just watching his bodyguard with a careful gaze. Henry seemed so undisturbed he wasn’t sure if he wanted to disrupt that, but he had to ask:
“Are you okay?”
Henry paused for a second, seemingly surprised by the question, but he quickly resumed his task.
“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” he murmured and scratched Pebbles on her neck.
The young lord behind his back squinted his icy blues. “Oh, you know, the dinner and such… Your father? How are you taking in the news?”
“Fine,” Henry shrugged. “I mean, my father is free to do whatever he likes, so… I don’t care.”
Hans really didn’t believe that. After the years they’d spent by each other’s sides, he was confident he knew the man pretty darn well.
“Really?” he said, raising his eyebrows and even ostentatiously crossing his arms on his chest. Not that Henry could see that.
“Yes, really.”
The young lord huffed.
“Henry,” he raised his voice a little, just as his patience began to wear thin. “Look at me.”
It was obvious Henry hesitated, even if just for a moment. It was a peculiar relationship; the one they’d built. On one hand, as partners, they had an equal standing in all personal matters, and Hans did his best to honour that – and his lover in equal measure – by never putting himself above Henry. On the other, he was still Henry’s lord. And the young knight also tried to honour that in any way he could.
In a situation like this, it wasn’t quite clear which bond they shared played the upper hand.
Henry turned towards his lord and looked straight into his eyes, arms folded.
“See? I’m totally fine.”
They stared at each other like two rabid dogs trying to establish dominance, while Pebbles munched loudly on her piece of hay, ignoring the two fools completely.
Then Hans cracked and let out a deep, frustrated sigh.
“Jesus, fine,” he pouted. “I was just worried.”
“I know,” Henry replied, his eyes softening a little. He turned back to his mare and resumed brushing her, putting a little too much effort into it. “I just don’t want to talk about it… Y’know, ‘cause there’s nothing to talk about.”
It was a lie, of course, but he was no stranger to those. He just really… no, he didn’t want to think about it, even if Hans meant well. He always did, just like with Heinrich. That didn’t mean Henry agreed with him.
“Okay,” the young lord conceded, although not completely. “But maybe if you-“
“Hans,” Henry interrupted him, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “Please, drop it.”
It wasn’t that Lord Capon had a fragile ego, although many people seemed to think so. He had his pride, of course, but he didn’t take offence at every little disagreement he encountered, and he really had sharpened his diplomacy skills as the years went by.
That’s why Henry was surprised to hear him huff and puff like an angry peacock.
“As you wish,” he heard behind his back, followed by a couple of childishly loud footsteps. “I just wanted to check on you, but if you insist…”
Henry had to close his eyes and count to three. Lord bless his perseverance.
“Wait,” he called after him and tossed the brush away. There was no point in starting any more quarrels, much less about something as silly as this.
Hans turned around immediately.
“I just… I’m not in the mood, okay?” Henry admitted and let out a very deep breath. One that seemed to carry a lot of emotions hidden within him. “It’s a lot to take in, okay? I appreciate your concern, but I first just need to process it.”
Hans stared at him for a bit, but not for very long. His expression softened almost immediately, and he was back in front of his knight in a matter of seconds.
“My dearest,” he whispered and brushed his knuckles softly across Henry’s cheek. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
Henry nuzzled into his palm and raised his gaze towards him, soft sparks dancing in his eyes.
He remembered his brief but intense conversation with Lady Jitka and he remembered the broken voice of little Heinrich confined to his bed. He was angry at Hans – a little – and he didn’t really want to exploit this anger when his lord showed him grace. But he had made a promise.
“Well, actually, there might be one thing…”