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“Who goes there?”
The voice coming from behind the door should’ve been one he is already used to, with an answer easily flying off the tip of his tongue. Yet for some reason, Henry finds himself inarticulate for a moment. Only a few seconds, but it feels like a quarter hour of silence descends upon him amid the shadow cast against the walls of Suchdol, swaying in the light of the torches.
He wonders what causes this unusual hesitancy in him? For one, he can confidently say it is far from aversion. Willing as he is, however, he fails to envisage what development will ensue once he steps through this door.
“Your most faithful page, sir.” He says, eventually, trying to squeeze out his usual calmness so he can mask his teetering heart.
When the sound of footsteps approaches beyond the door, the youth of Skalitz inadvertently clears his throat, straightening the collar of his shirt that hasn't shifted a bit since the moment he put it on. Various scenarios immediately play in his head, of the countless possibilities that may occur once the wooden door separating them opens, each one more chaotic than the other.
…Ah. Perhaps that is the answer he has been searching for: fear of the unknown.
At that moment, the door opens with a rattle.
“Henry!” Hans Capon emerges from within. “What brings you here tonight, my friend?”
The young Lord of Pirkstein appears to be in a delightful mood. Of course, after surviving the month-long siege by the Pragues and successfully reclaiming the Suchdol Fortress, one is bound to feel joy for keeping their head on their shoulders and chasing the enemies away. Hans’ radiant smile, however, does a different thing to Henry’s heart despite his having stayed by this person’s side for so long.
As for the reason, this time, Henry knows he does not need to ask.
“I came to check on your wound,” he says, “You said you were struck by an arrow during the battle.”
“And you promised to take a look at it, indeed.” Hans appears to have recalled their conversation earlier in the day. “Well, come on in, then. Don’t just stand there like a plank.”
With his master’s permission, Henry thus enters the nobleman’s chamber, and the door is soon closed behind them.
“I did not see you around after dinner, Henry. Where have you been?”
“I spoke with Ziska for a bit. You know, after what happened with the Dry Devil a while ago…”
“Ah, yes. That was a moment that would surely go down in history.” Hans makes an exaggerated nod. “But Henry, did you mean to say you went to check on another person first before your liege?”
“What? No, I didn’t mean–”
“I know. I only jested.” Young Lord Capon waves his hands, having amused himself. “Alright, come help me take my shirts off. I suppose it’s about time we change the dressing of my wound, too.”
For a subordinate to help remove his master’s armor or garments is nothing out of the ordinary. As Lord Capon’s squire, he’s helped put on and remove many such objects from this person's body. Of course, removing his liege’s clothes with the intention of examining the latter’s injury is as mundane a task as it is pouring him a cup of wine. Yet recalling the deed they committed in this very room on the night before his departure, and seeing himself removing layers after layers of attire from Hans’ person now, Henry can no longer bring himself to say that he is of a clear mind and pure heart.
Though, whatever impure intention he harbors is quickly dispelled by the sight and scent of blood.
“It looks…a bit nasty…” He struggles to find the right words.
“On the surface, yes, but none that should be a point of concern. The physician had thoroughly examined me earlier today.” Hans brushes his worries. “As I said, the armor lessened the damage somewhat. It hurts, yes, but still a shallow wound nonetheless.”
Henry quickly finishes removing the old dressing from Hans’ shoulder. True, when he takes a closer look now, the injury is actually not as bad as it seems. He finds relief at this realization, but it does not mean it has completely rid him of his concerns.
“I should clean it up and apply medicine again before wrapping the new dressing over it,” he says.
“There should be some water and clean clothes over there. You can go take a look.” Hans gestures at a nearby desk by the window. “The physician also left some medicine for me in case the wound flares up in the middle of the night.”
“Alright. I’ll get them.”
As someone who has spent most of his time going in and out of battles, whether by his own desire or another’s, cleaning and dressing up minor injuries such as this has naturally become one of Henry’s skills, considering that he and his comrades are bound to be wounded in fights. It does not take long for him to patch up the young nobleman’s arrow wound, though his focus on the job appears to have diverted his attention from something else.
“They mentioned it again earlier after dinner,” Hans suddenly says.
“What about?”
“The marriage.” The Lord of Pirkstein sighs. “And Hanush has just lectured me about it during the day, right after I came out of that hell hole of a battle.“
“...Perhaps because he wasn’t yet convinced by your response the first time.” Finally noticing the irritation in Hans’ voice, Henry picks his words carefully. “What did you tell him this time?”
“What can I tell him?” Hans raises his uninjured hand, sounding and looking upset. “They decided on the engagement and announced it in front of everyone. I’m not that heartless to make him lose face before the noblemen. In the first place, it’s not a simple matter of losing face or not, is it?”
“Right…”
With Hans’ injury neatly wrapped up, Henry, having completed what he initially came here to do, suddenly finds his focus returned to the person before him. They have talked about this earlier in the day, and Hans has conveyed his dissatisfaction with this arrangement in the same way. But now that the two of them are speaking about it alone, isolated from the outside world, he now sees the frustration vividly painted on his liege’s face, clearer than ever.
“It’s… Well, it’s bound to happen sooner or later, isn’t it? After all, you’re…” He swallows his words for a moment. “...You’re a nobleman, Hans.”
“Right. A nobleman has a duty he must be responsible for, even if it means sacrificing his personal wishes for the sake of… Fuck. Of whatever political interests that may be beneficial to Rattay, Pirkstein, and all of our allies.”
“And… What are those personal wishes of yours?”
“First of all, for what’s originally mine, to be mine,” says the young lord. “Did you hear what Hanush told me today? He’d only proceed with the matter of my inheritance after this whole wedding is over and done with.”
“I heard. Seems like his words are final on that one.”
“They are. And I’m still young, for Christ’s sake. There are still so many things I haven’t seen, so many places I want to visit. He can’t just take away my freedom all of a sudden like this. And then–!”
He turns to Henry.
Up until a moment ago, with the two of them conversing back and forth as usual, Henry had almost forgotten about the hesitation plaguing him before he entered this room. With Hans’ vibrant blue eyes locked on him now, and the anger on the young man’s face gradually turning into helplessness, Henry is reminded of it once more. Instead of fear of the unknown, however, he feels that he is now faced with a branching path, neither of which is smoother than the other.
“...And then?” Still, he feels compelled to ask.
“Do you still need to inquire about it, Henry?” Hans’ voice softens considerably, yet the joy he displayed when greeting Henry earlier has diminished. “Once I got married, then we…”
He does not continue.
In the dark of the night, the flames of the fireplace dance quietly in the young nobleman’s face. His blond hair almost glows in the shadows, like gold shimmering under the moonlight.
Henry watches him in return.
Hans Capon is a handsome young man, indeed. No wonder he can woo so many ladies in his whole life. A man with his appearance, a high-born, and eloquent in his words and conduct, although sometimes a bit silly, a woman cannot find a match better than him in this land. Thinking about it now, is it not conceited of him, to keep a person of such caliber to himself, when the latter has been destined for greater things since the day he was born?
Henry understands this in his head. Nevertheless, the matter of the heart is an entirely different thing altogether.
“...Henry?”
Hans raises his face at the sound of the lock clicking. Henry stands there by the door, having closed off the only way in and out of this room, save for the window, if they have ceased to value their lives. Meeting the young nobleman’s eyes, he returns to the bed and holds the other’s hand.
Without a word, he closes the distance between them, just like they did on that somber night.
Hans does not refuse him. He touches the side of Henry’s face, closing his eyes as he lets himself sink into this tender moment. The night is cold but their warm lips thaw each other’s hearts. There is no future to this relationship, no hope for the wish they mutually share between them. But at the very least, they can still claim tonight as theirs. No matter what comes tomorrow, until the sun rises, they can remain in each other’s arms.
“...It’s strange.”
“What is it, Henry?”
“To be kissed by you so fervently just now.” Henry shows a warm yet slightly mischievous smile. “If I recall correctly, the great Lord Hans Capon of Pirkstein, with countless adventurous romantic escapades under his belt, was so flustered during our first kiss that he didn’t know what to do with himself. He even sacrificed an innocent log to the fire to still his tumultuous emotions.”
“Oh, shut it, Henry.” His embarrassment arriving belatedly, Hans half-seriously hits his squire on the arm. “I was nervous as hell, you could surely tell. I mean, when I did it to you back then, I was… I was…”
“I know.” Henry nods, answering gently. “I was surprised, too. I was confused. But looking at you again, and thinking about everything we’ve gone through thus far, I…”
He chuckles in spite of himself. Taking Hans’ hand into his own once more, he looks into the other’s eyes.
“I wouldn’t have anyone other than you.”
There is a split second where there seems to be a spark flashing in Hans’ eyes. Did he not expect to hear such a word from him? Henry can only guess. The nobleman is quick to regain his composure this time, however, as he shakes his head and sends his charming smile in Henry’s direction.
“My, my… Would you look at that?” He laughs. “That blacksmith boy from Skalitz, who until not too long ago was so naive and clumsy he didn’t even know how to treat a nobleman, is right now confessing his love so eloquently to said nobleman.”
“At least you admit that I speak more eloquently now.”
“You do. You do, my dear Henry,” says Hans, “This must be due to my exceptional tutelage.”
“All thanks to you, my lord.”
The heaviness hanging in the air is dispelled by this playful banter. Though only temporary, they forget the vicissitudes of their lives, one that stems from the circumstances of their birth. Passion thus takes over once more; right now, they are only two individuals seeking to convey their affection for one another.
Hans’ eyelashes tremble slightly. In this zero distance, his breath intermingles with Henry’s, carrying the fragrance of an exquisite wine he must’ve indulged himself in after dinner. His tender sighs disperse as he melts in Henry’s arms. No longer is there hesitation and fear like the ones starting their first time. As if knowing that such a moment would be scarce and hard to come by, he clings to his squire, unwilling to let him go for even just a moment.
“...I was afraid you wouldn’t return,” he whispers. “Everything seemed so bleak and hopeless, Henry. So many days had passed, yet I still saw no sight of you in every dawn I watched. I wasn’t so much afraid of hunger, or swords and arrows, as I was of not seeing you ever again.”
“I promised you that I would come back,” Henry says, “And here I am, Hans. In your bed with you.”
“Thank goodness.” Hans cups his face. “Thank goodness you came back, Henry.”
It is the second time he feels the warmth of Hans’ skin in this way. Henry kisses him again, carefully laying the latter on the bed. Hans inadvertently lets out a gasp when Henry nips him on the neck, strong enough to send a jolt throughout his body but not hard enough to leave a mark. Half expecting yet half hesitant, he looks up at his squire.
“Are we going to do this, Henry?” he asks.
“Once your injury heals.” Yet the blacksmith chuckles, sending a glance at the nobleman’s right shoulder. “No strenuous activity for the wounded. But I shall be happy to keep you company until morning.”
“I should’ve expected that. Well, I suppose we do need some rest after all that happened.” For once, Hans does not argue with him. “Let’s save the affairs of the nether region for another time. Lie down with me, Henry. I wish to be with you tonight.”
He may have said it lightly, but there is no denying the anxious plea hiding in his every word. Henry hears it and he understands. After all, who is he to refuse the heartfelt request of his precious liege?
“Then, I beg your pardon.”
Saying this, he shifts over to the inner side of the bed, lying on his side. They share a quiet moment for an untold period of time, simply relishing the presence of their beloved, with only their fingers grazing against each other by the pillows.
“...Perhaps I should really go through with it,” Hans suddenly says.
“Go through with what?”
“Pretending to be severely ill on the day Hanush summons me for the courtship.” The young lord laughs. “You’ll have to be convincing yourself, Henry. You’ll be my messenger, after all.”
“But you said it would only work the first time. I’m sure your uncle won’t be easily fooled again.”
“True. Or maybe we should just run away, you and I.”
“So you’d leave everything that’s supposed to be yours behind?”
“Indeed, that would be a pity. A huge pity.” Hans lets out an exasperated sigh. But he chooses not to dwell on his grievances, perhaps not wanting to ruin the moment they have. “Well, if we don’t find any other way out, if it’s really meant to be, at the very least, you can be sure that I will keep my promise.”
“Of naming your son after me?” Henry teases him.
“That’s right. A good idea, don’t you think?”’
“It would be an honor,” Henry smiles, “For the name of this humble blacksmith to live on in Lord Capon’s heir.”
To his words, Hans only shakes his head and chuckles, no longer jesting as he did before. After a pause, he looks at Henry once more, speaking to him sincerely.
“I’m glad that you’re back, Henry.” He returns the other’s smile, still a little bitter from the knowledge of his future predicament, but much happier at the sight of the person before him. “I’m really glad.”
“And I’m glad to see you, too, Hans. I was also worried about you.”
“You know what? I already said this before, but even though Hanush originally made you my page as a punishment, it turns out to be the greatest present he’s ever gifted to me. He doesn’t know about it, and he didn’t intend to, of course, but that’s truly how I feel. Now, I can’t imagine having anyone else but you by my side.”
“The honor is mine,” Henry tells him. “No matter what happens, I’ll always stand with you. As your squire, as your friend, and…”
He does not mention the next word. It feels as if there is a mutual understanding between them. This word, perhaps, is better left unsaid. Yet even so, they know that they both understand what it is.
“Only death…can take me away from you.”
“Mn.” Hans acknowledges his pledge. “You better not die before I do.”