Work Text:
Hanush does not ask for wine.
He raises a glass, and the cupbearer moves in tandem. Red. Always red. Even bereft of a castle, the world knows what the Lord of Leipa wants.
Radzig watches, smile hidden beneath a loosely curled fist, as Hanush downs half of it in one gulp. Lips tinted with its tears, he continues where he had left off before he drank:
"And do you know what the worst thing is, Radzig?" he moans.
It must have been at least the third 'worst thing' so far, but Radzig doesn't dispute it. At least not aloud. Turning his own cup on the table, entertaining himself with the long legs left by the wine, he indulges Hanush's dramatics, "What's that, my friend?"
"He offered me a place to stay! A room! In the very castle he ousted me from."
"That… does seem like the polite thing to do," Radzig says. "Would you have preferred he have tossed you off the battlements?"
"Ha! Now wouldn't that be a sight? My sorry arse bouncing down those cliffs. But no, I suppose you're right. Although something that would let me leave with a little dignity, for Christ's sake! That's the least family deserves."
Much as Radzig would prefer Hanush for a neighbour than Hans, he does feel the need to contradict his companion. There was never going to be a dignified end to this contest so long as Hanush held fast to Rattay and its wealth. Hans: a husband, father, and lord in his own right would only tolerate the indulgence of letting another lord rule for so long before something had to come of it. For the sake of his son's inheritance, if nothing else.
Still, he does not want to quarrel.
"Lord Capon came into his rule to a kingdom at peace. I suppose what victory most would claim at war he must claim in the courtroom, with a similar absence of mercy. Though at least you escaped with your life."
"Hans would never have me killed. He doesn't have the balls, for one. Then again, neither do I." Hanush sighs. For all his bluster, the flower of familial affection still has petals. "If there is anyone to blame, I suppose it would be you, Radzig."
He drinks, and points one finger accusingly across the table.
"Me? What did I do?"
"That blacksmith's wife, for starters!" Hanush laughs. "That bastard of yours made him bold, bolder than he ever was as my ward."
That much Radzig cannot contest. Hans was a somewhat self-serious child who had grown into a gluttonous youth. As if, somewhere along the way, he realised what he does could never change who he is. Henry's influence on him is undeniable. From almost the moment they had met, even if they began at odds.
And yet he cannot take full responsibility. Leaning his weight upon the table, Radzig nods towards his guest.
"As I recall, it was you who sent them off hunting."
Tugging on his beard mournfully, Hanush laments, "The worst mistake of my life, but how was I supposed to know they were both—"
They each stop, Hanush freezing mid-gesture as he hesitates to say the words that most easily describes what Hans and Henry are. The sort of word best not used unless used as a threat.
"— Such well-suited companions," Radzig supplies.
"Precisely! And, you know, they both live in Pirkstein now. The same castle! Every man has had his share of… companionship, but to invite it into your home! Then again, my nephew has never been one to do things by half-measures."
Radzig nods into his cup. That much had been clear from the moment Henry left the little hovel Hanush had granted him with gold glinting at his heels. Some brides have been granted lesser dowries.
"Nor has Henry."
"Then I suppose we may both be to blame. The architects of our own misfortunes." Hanush lifts his goblet, offering it towards Radzig's. They tap together in a sorry toast, each drinking after.
For a long moment, neither speak. The castle breathes around them, the goings-on outside the dining room eclipsing their reunion, albeit only for a moment.
"What are your plans after this?" Radzig asks. "Will you return to your wife?"
To Senohrady. He had been before, when they were both younger. Fewer ambitions, fewer expectations. He forgets how many children Hanush has, now, but he likely knows his own bastard better than they know him.
"I suppose I'll have to."
Hanush slumps into his chair, but looks no smaller for it. The castle will look cavernous in his absence, Radzig thinks, and feel draftier. Evenings in Hanush's company spare coal for the fire, and as the King's tax collector, Radzig has always been one to spare expenses, where comfort permits.
He holds out the empty vessel for refilling, muttering his thanks to the servant, even as some spills onto his fingers. Licking down to the second knuckle of two fingers, a proposal comes to mind:
"You could stay."
The Lord of Leipa sits up, picking his elbows up on the table. "What, in the same castle?"
"If that is today's fashion." Radzig shrugs. "Then who are we to fight the future?"
Hanush nods in time with his own cup, tapping upon the table. "You may be right. Perhaps I will delay. I've been gone ten years, what's another month?"
"What's two months?"
"By then it'll be June, Radzig! That's half-way to winter, would you really put a guest out, and risk them being caught in a midwinter storm? And besides, you owe me that much, after how long I put up with you in Rattay."
Finger tapping his chin, Radzig considers the proposal further. It's true, he had called Rattay home for a good few months more than two. "Then best to leave it 'til next spring, I think. Perhaps by then we'll have sorted how to get you home safely, and my debt to you will at last be paid."
"You know, I like the sound of that," Hanush says, voice heavy as the wine he covets.
The world may know what the Lord of Leipa wants, but few can guess Lord Kobyla's desires; the man that smiles at him from across the table among them. Their boots scuff together, in a perfectly explainable display.
Radzig smiles into his wine, and says, "I thought you might."