Chapter Text
The morning air in Rattay was crisp and carried the smell of damp earth and woodsmoke. Henry stood by the stables, his hands busy with a leather strap that didn't need tightening. He pulled the hide through the buckle, feeling the familiar grain against his calloused fingertips. His mind was elsewhere. The news from Talmberg had arrived two days ago. Lady Stephanie had given birth to a healthy son, named Oldřich. Sir Divish finally had an heir to take over his estate. He shifted his weight, his boots crunching in the wet straw.
To anyone else, he looked like a squire preparing for a journey. To himself, he felt like he was preparing to head straight to the gallows, or the jaws of hell. As he stared at the horse’s flank, the sounds of the Rattay yard faded, replaced by the flickering candlelight of Stephanie’s chamber months ago. He could still hear her voice like it was yesterday, soft and trembling with a decade of accumulated loneliness.
"I feel truly blessed to have you here," she had said, looking at him with an intensity that made his throat tight. "So long I yearned for young company. I really feel God heard my prayers and sent you to me…” She had stepped closer then, the silk of her gown whispering against the floor.
"My, you do look handsome," she whispered, her arm reaching for his shoulder. Henry had remained frozen, the weight of the ceremonial shirt she’d given him feeling heavy as chainmail.
"When I was a little girl, there were always lots of other children around, and young men and women of the court. It was so merry… I always hoped it would be like that when I was grown up too… But… it was not God’s plan.”
"You and Sir Divish have no children?" Henry had asked. The question had hung in the air like a physical blow.
Stephanie’s gaze dropped. "No, no… Alas… We were not blessed… Twice I was with child… but they did not live… and now I fear there’s no hope for me…”
She had turned away from him then, her shoulders shaking as she buried her head in her hands. She wept quietly, the sound of her grief more piercing than any battle cry.
"My lady…" Henry had approached cautiously, his heart hammering. As soon as he was within reach, she had turned and leaned into him, seeking an embrace that was more about survival than scandal. Startled by the sudden contact and the heat of her against him, Henry had gently pushed her away, his breath hitching.
"Forgive me, My Lady, I shouldn’t have…”
"I don't mind..." she had replied, her eyes damp but steady.
A horse neighed nearby, the sharp, brassy sound pulling Henry out of his memory. It had been months since he stood in that room, feeling the strange pull of a woman who was supposed to be his social superior, yet who looked at him with such raw, lonely honesty. He remembered the weight of the crown he had delivered, the cold gold against his palms, and the softness of the chemise he had brought her, fabric so fine it felt like a sin against his rough skin. The room had seemed to shrink until the stone walls vanished, leaving only the two of them in a world defined by the heat of her breath.
"Come on, Henry, snap out of it," he whispered to himself, his voice cracking. He wiped a hand across his face, half expecting to find the scent of rosewater still clinging to his stubble.
The sound of rhythmic, confident footsteps behind him jolted him. He straightened his back, desperately trying to look like a man simply checking his cinch.
Hans approached with his usual swagger, though his eyes were softer than they had been in the early days of their friendship. He saw the way Henry was fumbling with the horse's tack. Hans had a way of moving that suggested the world was his personal stage, yet he always seemed to find his way to Henry’s side when the silence became too heavy.
"You're going to snap that leather if you pull any harder, Henry," Hans said. He stepped closer, leaning against the wooden post of the stall.
"We leave in an hour. Radzig is already impatient, and I'd rather not hear another lecture on the virtues of punctuality. He has that look in his eye.”
Henry didn't look up. He kept his head down, focusing on a small scratch on the saddle. He traced the mark with his thumb, "I’m not sure I should go, Hans. Maybe I should stay and help Bernard with the new recruits. He's been complaining about the footwork of the boys from the upper bailiwick. They can't hold a spear without trembling.”
Hans let out a short laugh, though it died quickly when he saw Henry’s expression. He stepped into the stall, moving into Henry's space. The smell of expensive oil and lavender followed him, a sharp contrast to the stable's musk.
"Help Bernard? You’d rather get shouted at by that old bear than ride to a feast? It’s a celebration! Wine, food, and the chance to see the old man finally look happy. Sir Divish has waited his whole life for this. Besides, Stephanie always speaks well of you. She'll likely want to hear about every bandit you've chased since the last time you visited.”
Henry grunted in response, before turning to face Hans.
"That's the problem," Henry muttered. He finally dropped the strap and leaned his forehead against the horse's flank. The animal shifted, its warm weight a comfort Henry didn't feel he deserved.
“I don't feel much like a hero. Not for this. Every time someone mentions that child, it feels like a kick to the ribs.”
“What are you blabbering on about now?” Hans questioned, “If this is about being a commoner in a lord's hall, forget it," Hans said, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. "You've earned your place ten times over. Divish knows it. Stephanie knows it. Anyone with eyes can see you belong there as much as any of us. You're a lord's son now, Henry. You’re Radzig’s blood. Try to act like it, even if the boots still feel stiff and the silk makes you itch.”
Henry turned to face Hans. His face was pale, the skin tight around his eyes. "It's not about my… father. And it's not about the hall. I wish it were that simple, Hans. I'd take a lecture from Radzig or a thrashing from Bernard over this. I’d rather be back at Suchdol than riding through those gates.”
Hans searched Henry's face. He looked for a joke, a sign of some local trouble, or maybe a debt Henry had incurred at the bathhouse. "Then what? Did you lose a wager? Did you break something expensive in the keep? Tell me now so I can find a way to lie for you before we reach the bridge. I'm quite good at it, as you know.” He smirked before continuing, “I once convinced Hanush that the missing wine was a tribute to a passing saint, he’ll believe anything if it's delivered with enough conviction.”
Henry took a breath, the air cold and sharp in his lungs. He finally looked up, his eyes bloodshot and haunted. "Think about when I went to Talmberg," he said, his voice barely a breath, catching on the damp air. "When I brought the shirts and the wine. You remember how she treated me. How she looked at me when I delivered the crown. You teased me about it for weeks. You said she looked at me like I was the only man in Bohemia who wasn't made of stone."
Hans watched him. He leaned back slightly, his brow furrowing. He began to count the months in his head. Henry could almost see the thoughts moving behind Hans’s eyes, the way the numbers began to align. Hans looked toward the castle gates, then back at Henry, then down to the ground. The playful light in his expression vanished, replaced by a deep, heavy silence. The only sound in the yard was the rhythmic thud of a distant hammer from the forge and the rustle of straw under the horse's hooves.
"The boy," Hans said slowly. The realisation sat between them like a physical weight, heavier than any armour they had ever worn. "Henry. How long has it been since that night? The night you were supposedly delivering laundry and performing errands for a lady? The night you came back to Rattay looking like you’d seen a vision of the Virgin Mother?”
“…9 months. Exactly.” Henry replied. His throat felt like it was full of dry wool. He couldn't find his voice for a moment, swallowing hard.
"I didn't mean for it to happen. It wasn't planned. I didn't even think it was possible, considering... well, considering Divish's age and the rumours. But the timing is exact. It's him, Hans. It’s me. I saw the date on the parchment that the messenger brought. It matches to the day. Nine months of silence, and now this.”
Henry nodded once. His throat felt like it was full of dry wool. “I’m sorry, Hans,” he whispered, Henry's eyes finally met Hans. “I’m so sorry I kept this from you.”
He expected a joke about his luck or perhaps a flash of the old aristocratic pride. Instead, Hans moved even closer. He gripped Henry’s shoulder firmly, his thumb pressing into the leather of Henry's jerkin, anchoring him to the earth. Hans lowered his voice even further, his fingers brushing against the hair at the nape of Henry's neck in a gesture of sudden, grounding intimacy.
"By the Saints, Henry... what are you apologising for? Do you think you need my forgiveness for finding a moment of life in the middle of all this death? You don't. Not for this. Not from me. I’m hardly a saint.”
Hans shook his head, a faint, lopsided smile appearing. "I would march into the very mouth of Hell with you, boots and all. A little bastard in Talmberg doesn't change the stars, Henry. It certainly doesn't change us."
Henry let out a breath he felt he’d been holding for two days. He rested his hand on Hans’s chest, feeling the steady, arrogant, yet comforting beat of his heart through the fine fabric.
"Thank you, Hans. I don't know what I'd do if you turned your back on me.”
"You'd probably fall face first into a ditch and wait for me to pull you out, as usual," Hans joked, though his voice was thick with affection. He stepped back, patting Henry’s cheek with a lingering touch. "Now, finish with that horse. We have a lordship to maintain, a child to admire with a straight face, and a truly offensive amount of very expensive wine to consume."
Henry watched him walk toward his own mount, the swagger returning to his step, a little more exaggerated than usual, perhaps to hide the gravity of what they had just shared. He picked up the leather strap again. It still didn't need tightening, but he pulled it through the buckle anyway, his hands steady for the first time since the news had arrived.
----------
The party clattered out of the Rattay gates just as the sun began to burn through the morning mist. Sir Radzig led the way on his bay gelding, his back straight and his eyes fixed on the horizon. Beside him rode Sir Hanush, his heavy frame straining the leather of his saddle. Hanush was already grumbling about the early hour and the distance, his voice booming across the trail. Father Godwin followed close behind, his horse laden with several silver jugs of wine that clinked softly with every step.
Henry and Hans brought up the rear. The conversation in the stables still felt like a heavy weight in Henry’s chest, but the steady rhythm of his horse’s gait provided a distraction. He watched the way the light caught the gold thread in Hans's tunic, a bright spot against the dull browns of the road.
"You're staring again," Hans said, though there was no bite in his voice. He shifted in his saddle, leaning over to nudge Henry’s shoulder with his own. "Try to look like a man going to a party. People will start to talk if you keep that long face.”
"I'm trying," Henry replied. He looked away, focusing on the mud-slicked road. "It's just hard to think about anything else. Every milestone we pass feels like we're getting closer to a reckoning.”
They crossed the bridge over the river. The wooden planks groaned under the weight of the horses. To their left, the mills were already at work. The great wheels churned the water into white foam.
Sir Hanush pulled his horse to a halt for a moment, waiting for the younger men to catch up. He wiped sweat from his brow despite the morning chill. "If Divish doesn't have the finest cask in the province waiting for us, I'm turning back at the drawbridge. This road gets longer every year, or my horse is getting lazier.”
Father Godwin chuckled, reaching back to pat one of his wine jugs. "A glorious day for a birth celebration, isn't it? There's nothing like a new life to remind us of the Lord's mercy. Especially after all the blood we've seen on these roads lately."
Henry managed a stiff nod. "Yes, Father. A miracle.”
Godwin smiled, looking at Hanush. "A miracle that requires the proper libations. Sir Divish sent word that his cellars are ready, but I thought it best to bring a little something from my own stores. For the blessing, you understand.”
Hans rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "I'm sure the blessing will be very thorough, Godwin. Just try to stay in your seat this time. I’d hate to have to haul you out of the ditch before we even see the battlements.”
As they reached the edge of the woods, the canopy of trees closed in over them. The air grew cooler. It smelled of pine needles and damp stone. Birds chirped in the high branches. Their songs were sharp and clear in the stillness of the forest. Radzig called back a command to pick up the pace, and the horses moved into a steady trot. Henry felt Hans's gaze on him. It wasn't the piercing, judgmental look of a lord. It was the look Henry was now used to, a burning intensity that began during the siege of Suchdol.
"Look at me," Hans whispered. Henry turned his head.
"We're just visitors," Hans said, his voice barely audible over the sound of hooves. "When we get there, you're the hero who helped save the province. Nothing more. Don't let your eyes give you away.”
The forest eventually thinned, revealing the valley below. Talmberg sat on its rocky perch. The stone walls looked pale in the afternoon light. New banners fluttered from the towers. They were bright splashes of colour against the grey sky.
They began the long climb up the winding path. Henry saw the village children running alongside the road, cheering at the sight of the knights. He saw the guards on the ramparts straightening their posture. At the very top, standing by the open portcullis, was Sir Divish. He looked fragile, his hand resting heavily on a cane, but his face was transformed by a genuine joy.
Beside him stood Stephanie. She held the child close to her breast. When her gaze landed on Henry, she didn't look away. She stood taller.
"Smile, Henry," Hans muttered, kicking his horse forward to join the front of the line. "The play is about to begin.”
The horses’ hooves transitioned from the soft thud of dirt to the hollow ring of the wooden drawbridge. Sir Divish stepped forward, his eyes milky with age but bright with satisfaction. Radzig and Hanush dismounted first. The two lords approached Divish with the easy familiarity of men who had shared decades of politics and war.
"Divish, you old dog," Hanush roared, his voice bouncing off the stone archway. He grabbed the older man’s forearm in a firm grip. "I didn't think you had it in you. To pull an heir out of your sleeve at this stage. It’s a feat worth more than any siege.”
Divish laughed, a dry sound that ended in a cough. "The Lord provides, Hanush. Though I suspect my prayers were louder than most.”
Radzig bowed his head slightly. "It is a blessing for Talmberg. And for all of us. Stability in these times is a rare gift.”
Henry dismounted more slowly. He felt a bead of sweat track down his spine despite the breeze. He stood behind Hans, trying to merge with the background, but the courtyard was small. There was nowhere to hide.
Stephanie stepped down from the dais. She moved with a grace that felt new, as if the child in her arms had given her back the youth she had been losing. She stopped in front of the group. The infant was swaddled in fine linen, only a small, pink face visible to the world.
"Welcome, my lords," she said. Her voice was steady. She looked at Radzig, then Hanush, and finally, she turned her eyes toward the back of the group. "And welcome, Henry. It has been far too long since you graced our halls.”
Henry stepped forward. He felt Hans's shoulder brush against his, a deliberate reminder that he wasn't standing alone. He bowed lower than was strictly necessary, his heart drumming against his ribs. "Lady Stephanie. My congratulations. It is a fine thing to see Talmberg so full of life.”
She smiled. It was a small, private expression that barely touched her lips but stayed in her eyes. “This is Oldřich. Would you like to see him?”
The question felt like a trap. Henry looked at the bundle. He saw the way the child's tiny hand was curled into a fist near its chin. For a second, the courtyard disappeared. He wasn't a squire, and she wasn't a lady. They were just two people standing in the shadow of a choice they had made months ago.
“He looks strong," Henry said. His voice was thicker than he intended.
Sir Radzig stepped up beside Henry, his presence quiet and commanding. He leaned in, his silvered hair catching the sunlight as he peered at the infant. Radzig’s gaze was piercing, the look of a man accustomed to seeing the truth behind layers of armour and politics. He reached out a calloused hand, hesitating for a moment before brushing the back of his finger against the boy's velvet soft cheek.
"A remarkable child, Divish," Radzig said softly. His eyes flickered to Henry for a heartbeat, a look so brief Henry almost missed it, before returning to the babe. "He has a certain clarity in his eyes already. A weight. He looks like he carries the destiny of a house that refuses to fall.”
Divish leaned on his cane, watching Radzig with a pride that was almost painful to behold. "He is the image of his mother, don't you think? He has that same stubborn line of the jaw. My own father had a chin like a castle gate, but this boy... he has her spirit already.”
Hanush peered over Henry’s shoulder, squinting at the babe and letting out a low whistle. "Nonsense, Divish. He has the look of a fighter. Look at those shoulders, even in the swaddling. He’ll be wielding a longsword before he’s ten. He has a gaze that could cut through stone. Mark my words, Oldřich will be a terror on the tilting ground.”
Father Godwin bustled forward, his robes dusty from the road but his face beaming. He made a small sign of the cross over the child. "Strength of body is well and good, but see how he sleeps through Hanush's shouting? That is the peace of the righteous. Or a very healthy appetite. Either way, a blessing!”
Hans stepped in then, moving close enough to peer directly into the child's face. He let out a soft, genuine hum of appreciation.
"He's magnificent, Divish," Hans said, his voice carrying a warmth that wasn't entirely theatrical. He reached out a gloved finger, letting the infant’s tiny fist brush against his knuckle. "Truly magnificent. I can see it already, he’s going to be exceptionally strong willed. He has that look of a boy who takes what he wants and holds it fast. I suspect he'll take after his father in that regard, a man of action, wouldn't you say?”
Hans looked up at Divish, offering a grin that was perfectly poised between a compliment and a hidden truth.
Henry watched Hans in that moment, and a sudden, fierce rush of affection tightened his throat. It wasn't just the cleverness of the lie or the ease with which Hans navigated the dangerous waters of noble courtships, it was the sheer, unyielding loyalty of the man. Hans stood there, draped in silk and radiating the arrogance of his station, yet he was using every bit of that status to build a shield around Henry.
He saw the way Hans’s eyes sparkled with a secret shared only between the two of them, a silent promise that no matter how many 'miracles' were born in Talmberg, the bond they had forged was the only thing that truly mattered. In a world of cold stone keeps and rigid laws, Hans was the only warmth Henry felt he could truly touch. He wanted to reach out, to grab Hans’s hand right there in the courtyard, but he settled for a small, grateful exhale that went unnoticed by the laughing lords.
Divish beamed, oblivious to the subtext, nodding his head vigorously. "Aye, Hans. A man of action. May he be a better one than I have been!”
The lords laughed, and the heavy atmosphere broke. Even Radzig shared a brief, knowing smile with Hanush. Divish gestured toward the Great Hall with his cane.
"Come! Enough standing in the wind. The cooks have been working since yesterday. There is venison, trout from the river, and enough ale to drown a battalion. We shall feast until the moon is high and the sun thinks twice about rising!”
As the group moved toward the hall, Hans fell back to walk beside Henry. He kept his hands behind his back, but his elbow caught Henry's ribs in a sharp, grounding nudge.
"See?" Hans whispered. "Magnificent, just like I said. And luckily for you, Divish is far too blinded by joy to see anything but a miracle. Even Radzig seemed taken with him.”
Henry watched Stephanie’s back as she disappeared into the shadows of the keep. "It's only the beginning of the night.”
"Then let's make sure we're drunk enough to enjoy the rest of it," Hans replied, slapping Henry on the back and leading him toward the scent of roasting meat.