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The sun is just about to rise when Henry leaves the Devil's Den for Kuttenberg. He gives Hans a sweet kiss goodbye before mounting Pebbles and riding off, hidden by the shadows. Watching as Henry disappears between the trees, Hans releases a sigh.
There is no way he can return to sleep now, so he goes back inside and climbs the stairs to watch the sunrise from the balcony outside their room.
As the sky slowly changes color, the black of night giving way to the soft yellows and oranges of a new day, his thoughts are still lingering.
Hans wishes Henry would have stayed in bed with him, heartbeat a comforting rhythm against his ear, fingers playing with his golden hair, sweet nothings whispered back and forth. But unfortunately there are things to do and people to help, and Henry is a man who cannot deny someone in need. It's one of the things people appreciate about him, but with this dreaded arranged wedding coming closer at an unknown pace, Hans wishes he could spend more time with the man who set his heart ablaze with a love he's never felt before.
His feelings for Henry, that night in Suchdol, and all the other things that have happened between them since have changed Hans irreversibly, and the thought that he will have to marry a woman he's never met feels like a sword to the chest. It's cruel that he has no say in the matter, especially now that his heart will never be in it.
But maybe, if he's lucky, Jitka will hate the circumstances just as much as he does – maybe they can become friends and put on an act for everyone else while living their own separate lives behind closed doors. But despite that chance, running away from it all and disappearing to a place where no one knows his name is tempting. If Henry asked, he would say yes without a second thought.
But Henry is a humble man who knows his place, and he would never request such a thing from his lord, no matter how much Hans hopes he would. Part of him wants to discuss it with Henry, but he's scared Henry will deny him. After all, uncle Hanush would leave no stone unturned to find them, and – if successful – punish them both in ways no one wants to imagine. Henry would most likely choose seeing him safe over risking both their necks.
And still, Hans would rather make his vows to him instead of Jitka. It would never be allowed to happen, and yet he's caught himself dreaming of it every other night. Maybe in a different time it could've been possible, but sadly not theirs. Perhaps in a few centuries, people like him and Henry can finally live and love each other openly, shamelessly, and without consequence. Even thinking about it almost brings a tear to his eye.
Taking an uneasy breath, he decides that regardless of what the future holds, he will never let Henry forget that his love runs deep, whether there's a ring on his finger or not. But just telling Henry doesn't feel like enough. Anyone can make promises, and a lot of the time those promises are broken in the end. No, what Hans needs is a gesture to go along with it, one that makes it unmistakably clear that no matter what happens, his heart will stay with Henry.
But what could he do? There's almost nothing money can't buy, but just tossing exorbitant amounts of groschen at someone won't cut it. Hans could buy the best armor, weapons, and jewelry, but to what end?
Henry has no use for another sword; he takes good care of the one he and Martin forged together, and he would never replace it willingly, which Hans understands and respects. He's also earned enough money from helping people and selling whatever he took off the bandits he killed to buy himself any armor that catches his eye. And the only times Hans has ever seen Henry wear jewelry were when he needed to dress up and make a good impression on someone.
That leaves Hans with only one conclusion: he has to find something personal, something special to communicate his love. Now he only has to figure out what that could be.
“The things I do for you,” Hans whispers to himself, his feet taking him downstairs again for some breakfast.
No one else is really awake yet, so he considers it a blessing that no one can see his stomach wildly protesting every spoon of leftover stew he eats. It doesn't taste terrible, it's just that eating so soon after getting out of bed has always been a bit difficult for him. He still forces himself to finish the meal, knowing that he needs it.
And as he sits there, staring into his now empty bowl and trying to ignore his slight stomach pains, something in his head clicks into place – suddenly he knows what to do.
If he, Sir Hans Capon of Pirkstein, swallowed his noble pride, got his hands dirty and crafted something himself, it would be the most powerful statement he could make: that there's nothing he wouldn't do for Henry. Hans doesn't care how much he has to pay to get some help with his idea; he's made up his mind, there is no way back.
Full of determination, he cleans up after himself and steps outside, where he soon finds himself at the nearby smithy. As luck would have it, the local blacksmith is already there, getting ready for another day of work. Hans approaches him with all the confidence in the world and leans on the anvil, fixing the man with a serious look. The blacksmith stops in his tracks and raises an eyebrow at Hans.
“Can I help you somehow?”
“Yes, actually,” Hans begins, “I'm looking to forge a gift for a dear friend of mine, but you see... I have no crafting experience.”
“Wouldn't it be better to commission something, then,” the man asks, and while that's a solid point, Hans shakes his head at him.
“Usually I would do just that, but it's very personal. I need it to carry a message.”
The blacksmith hums and scratches at his dark beard, then crosses his arms. For just a moment, Hans thinks he's about to be sent away, but then a smile tugs at the man's lips.
“What do you have in mind? I'm sure I could teach you a few things for the right price.”
“I was hoping you could help me with that,” Hans admits with a sheepish smile. “You see, there's no use for a sword, armor, or even jewelry. What does that leave me with?”
Laughing, the man tilts his head and shrugs.
“I doubt you'd want horseshoes, so maybe... what about a dagger?”
Hans' eyes light up with excitement – a dagger would be perfect. Coincidentally, Henry mentioned just a few days ago that he lost his own dagger on a recent assignment and hasn't replaced it yet. How in God's name did Hans forget about that?
“You know what? That's a great idea! Name your price and I'll make sure to pay you double.”
“You're too generous, good sir. Here's a deal: you pay for the material upfront, and depending on how long it takes us, I'll tell you how much I get for teaching and assisting you when we're done.”
“Or,” Hans says as he fishes a bag of groschen out of his pouch and hands it over, “I'll give you this and we're getting down to business right away.”
Not losing any time, the man opens the bag and starts counting. Judging by his widening eyes, it's a lot more coin than he would've ended up asking for, but it's of no interest to Hans how much cheaper this could've been. Nothing in this world is too expensive for him when it's for Henry, and any wise man will confirm that good quality has its price. If Henry likes the result, it's worth every single coin Hans paid for it.
“Jesus Christ be praised, you're not afraid to spend a lot on such a simple thing.”
Hans pushes away from the anvil and rolls his shoulders.
“If it guarantees a proper dagger by the end of the day, nothing is too much. My friend deserves nothing less after saving my life this many times.”
Recognition flashes across the blacksmith's face, and he nods to himself.
“Oh, you mean that friend who's always out and about helping people? What's his name again?”
“Henry. And you are?”
“Jakub. But now, let's make sure Henry gets a gift he'll remember. He must be a truly great man if a noble such as you is willing to do any labor for him.”
“He's the best friend and most capable squire one could ask for. I'm lucky to have him,” Hans confesses as he accepts the apron that's handed to him. Thank God he chose to wear a thin short-sleeved tunic today – he'd die if he wore his usual getup in the combined heat of the forge and the sun. Cooking to death is not an exit he'd be proud of.
“And where did you find such a capable squire,” Jakub asks him as he picks up a piece of steel that he deems acceptable for their project and starts heating it up.
“He, uhm... he appeared on our doorstep one day, with nothing to his name. You see, he's been through horrible, unthinkable things. And as if that wasn't bad enough, some vermin stole the last sword he forged with his father. So it was personal to him from the very beginning,” Hans tells him, watching the color of the metal slowly change. It'll take a bit more time, he knows that much. He's watched Henry and other smiths enough to remember that the color needs to resemble straw before any work can be done.
“So he's a blacksmith as well,” Jakub asks, the surprise evident in his voice. “Is that why you came up with this idea?”
“Yes. He will know how much work went into it, so I hope it gets the message across.”
And if it doesn't... well, he can still walk into the forest and let the wolves eat him. Not that Hans would actually do that, but he'd definitely feel like it if this plan failed.
“It better, you don't see nobles working the forge every day,” Jakub remarks, his arm still working the bellows. “And what's the message? That you got his back?”
Hans sighs and tilts his head.
“He knows that. I've already saved his life once, and almost died doing so. I just want to make clear that no matter what, I will keep the promise I intend to give him. Even if it means I'll lose everything.”
Nodding in understanding, Jakub grabs a pair of tongs and examines the steel for a moment before he puts it back, guessing that it needs just a bit more heat.
“And that vermin? Did Henry get his revenge?”
Hans can't help but laugh. Nothing will ever beat the delight he felt when Henry told him that he'd gotten rid of Istvan Toth once and for all. After everything that scum has done, he deserved the ending he got. And Henry deserved some closure, that much is certain. Hans only regrets not being there when it happened; he would've loved to watch Istvan fall to his death.
“You bet! I've been told he went straight out the window and broke every bone in his body! And Henry finally got his sword back, so all is well in the end.”
Jakub nods along as he checks the steel once more and finally deems it ready to go; he carefully puts it down on the anvil and turns back to Hans.
“I've caught glimpses of it. It's a fine blade, no doubt. But enough of that, let's get to the task. Grab that hammer over there.”
And so Hans drops the topic and does as he's told. Under Jakub's strict guidance he slowly shapes the steel into a slim blade, and he has to admit to himself that smithing is way more difficult than it looks. He can already feel muscles that he wasn't even aware of, and he just knows they'll be sore later. Not that he minds; sore muscles are a small price to pay for a gift that comes right from the heart.
But now at least he understands why Henry's shoulders are this wide, and how his arms became this strong. It's not just the fighting that molded his body, no. All of that is built on a foundation of hard work at the forge, and God knows Martin taught him well.
Henry always makes it look so easy, and Hans finds that he's underestimated how much skill and effort goes into crafting a good weapon. It's here, bent over an anvil, hammering away at a piece of hot steel, that he develops a whole new appreciation for the passion Henry approaches his work with.
Hans has already decided that he'll never smith something again once this dagger is done – Henry is the only one Hans would ever get his hands this dirty for, and that's that. There's sweat running down his face and neck, soaking his tunic and making it stick to his skin like a blood-soaked bandage. Christ, he can't wait to take a bath. Honestly, he doesn't know how Henry can stand feeling this gross. Perhaps he got used to it, or maybe he doesn't even notice until he's done working, who knows? Hans would trust him to be so focused on his work that he blanks out everything else until his job is finished.
Eventually, they finally temper the blade and move on to crafting the guard and pommel. For a split second he regrets not just commissioning Jakub and staying far away from any work himself, but the mental image of Henry smiling at him with gratitude in his eyes is enough to keep him going.
And after all, Jakub is helping him as much as he can, so at least Hans knows the result won't be all crooked and useless. Regardless of the exhaustion that's creeping up on him, it's time well spent.
When all the components are finally finished, Jakub looks at Hans with a satisfied smile and nods.
“Not bad for your first attempt! If you keep practicing, you might get really good at it! Maybe ask Henry to teach you.”
Hans immediately starts laughing and wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, unaware of the black smudge it leaves behind in the process.
“No offense, but I have no interest in becoming a good smith. Once this is done, I'm never touching a forge again!”
Laughing back, the blacksmith shakes his head and shrugs.
“No offense taken. Tell you what, why don't you take a break? I can finish this up for you, it only needs a bit of grinding before I can put it all together and add the details.”
With a huge sigh, Hans relaxes. There's a small smile pulling at his lips, and he silently thanks God that his work is done here. If he's completely honest with himself, he wouldn't have lasted that much longer anyway.
“That's nice of you, thanks. I need to sit down and have a drink. This is a lot harder than it looks.”
“Oh,” Jakub waves him off, “I'll take a while here, so why don't you go have a wash and some food while you're at it? Come back later, I'll have it done by then.”
They nod at each other, and Hans leaves the man to finish their job. His feet carry him right to the baths, then back to the Den, where he helps himself to more food and some wine. The muscles in his shoulders are still tense, but the ache is satisfying, given that he worked this hard for a good reason. Hopefully Henry appreciates his effort as much as Hans hopes he will. Now the only thing he still needs to figure out is what he'll tell Henry.
The promise he wants to make isn't one to be made lightly, and as much as he enjoys poetry every now and then, words don't come to him easily when they concern matters of the heart. Christ's wounds, he only told the story of Lancelot and Galehaut because he couldn't find his own words to say that he'd die of grief if Henry got himself killed. How is Hans supposed to know what to tell him this time?
“Your cup won't empty itself if you stare at it long enough,” a voice pulls him from his thoughts, and when he looks up, the Dry Devil is already sitting opposite him at the table.
Hans quickly takes a sip of his wine and clears his throat.
“I was lost in thought, that's all. Is there something I can help you with?”
Raising his hands in a defensive gesture, Hynek flashes him a wolfish grin, revealing way too many teeth. Hans doesn't like where this is going.
“Oh no, no. I'm just wondering what business you had working at the smithy. Isn't it you who always keeps blabbering on about manual labor being beneath a noble?”
The groan that Hans lets loose is out of his mouth before he can suppress it, and he rubs his face with both hands. Of course that would come back to bite him in the arse at some point. Hans takes a deep breath before he looks at Hynek through the gaps between his fingers, his eyes narrowed in annoyance.
“Make fun of me all you want, it was for a good cause.”
The grin only grows wider, and Hynek leans forward, bracing his hands on the table.
“What cause? Forging your own wedding rings,” he asks in a mocking tone.
“Why would I forge rings for a marriage that I didn't agree to? I'll have you know that I was working on a dagger for Henry.”
He'd be a liar if he said that these antics aren't slowly chipping away at his restraint. Technically, Hans could punch Hynek right here and now, but he bites his lip and lowers his hands to the table, palms flat against the surface. Someone should reward him for not lashing out.
“For Henry?”
Hynek sounds outright confused, and Hans lets him stew in it for a few precious seconds before he elaborates.
“As a gift, for everything he's done for me. Anyone can pay someone else to do it, but it's different when it's self-made, I guess.” For a moment there is nothing but silence between them. Then Hans decides that... well, if he's already got someone here, he may as well ask for some more help. “Actually, I have a question you might be able to answer for me. If not you, then maybe Zizka.”
“You can ask, but if it's a stupid question, you can expect an equally stupid answer,” the Devil replies with a shrug and an unbothered expression.
“How would you tell Henry that even though your life is about to change, it doesn't have to change anything between you? That you'll stay loyal to what you already have?”
Hynek raises a brow, pinning him with a look of disbelief. It's almost like he can't fathom that Hans would ask him a question this dumb; but he realizes quickly that Hans is serious. Crossing his arms, Hynek shrugs and leans back.
“Why make it complicated when you can get straight to the point? Don't be an idiot, just tell him what you told me. Henry's a simple man.”
Hans wants to disagree, but he's right. It drives Henry insane when people beat around the bush for too long, even if he doesn't always show it. Who would've thought that the Dry Devil would actually be helpful? Hans was certainly expecting him not to take it seriously at all.
“You got a point there. I'll try, thank you.”
“It's nothing, really,” Hynek says and waves him off. “Just don't tell anyone, they'll think I'm getting soft.”
“And we can't have that, now can we,” Hans replies with a grin.
“Exactly!” And just like that, Hynek's face hardens, his eyes now entirely fixed on Hans' wine. “Now drink, before I do it for you.”
Not wanting to see Hynek drunk before sunset, Hans is happy to obey.
After finishing his lunch, Hans reckons it's finally time to go check on Jakub. Looking up at the sun for a moment, he deduces that it must be early afternoon by now, which means that enough time must have passed for the dagger to be finished.
Jakub smiles and waves at him as he approaches, and Hans smiles right back. When he finally comes to a stop in front of the anvil, Jakub puts aside whatever he's working on now to snatch the dagger from a nearby table. He holds it out to Hans, pommel first.
“There you go, all done! How do you like it?”
With careful fingers, Hans takes the weapon and rotates it in his hand, looking at it from all angles. Its blade, sharpened and polished to perfection, shines in the light coming from the forge. The handle is wrapped in thin, twisted threads of double-colored wire – a mix of brass and copper, if Hans had to take an educated guess. It's a beautiful dagger, and it fills him with pride that he had a hand in its creation.
“It's magnificent,” he says with such awe in his voice that Jakub can't help but grin.
“I'm glad you like it. You think it's gonna hit the mark?”
Hans has never nodded faster in his life.
“Oh, I'm sure Henry will love it! Thank you so much for your help. Looking at this, I'd say the time and money was well spent!”
“Happy to help, sir. May it serve Henry well.”
---
Hans is lounging on his bed and reading a book when the door opens and Henry trudges into the room. He looks absolutely exhausted, but at least he's already bathed, if the dampness of his hair is anything to go by.
“Hal! You look like you've had a long day,” Hans greets him, and Henry grunts in response. He sits heavily at the foot of the bed and rests his hand on Hans' shin, his blue eyes softening several degrees.
“Long day indeed, and I can't wait to go to sleep. But what about you? How was your day?”
“Well,” Hans starts, “I've been a busy bee! Got something for you, wanna see?”
A small but tired smile stretches across Henry's lips, and he squeezes Hans' leg softly.
“Sure, but what's the occasion? You're not someone who gives gifts for no reason.”
Sighing, Hans closes his book and puts it aside before he carefully pulls his leg out of Henry's grip and stands.
“You know me too well, Hal. Close your eyes and hold out your hands for me?”
Henry shoots him a puzzled look but follows his order anyway. Hans quickly swallows the lump that has formed in his throat and opens his chest to retrieve the dagger. He looks at it one last time and takes a deep breath before he places it in Henry's hands. Now is not the time to be nervous, but that doesn't stop his own hands from trembling slightly.
“There.”
Slowly, Henry looks down at his hands, and his eyes widen.
“You got me a new dagger?”
“Wrong,” Hans corrects him, “I made you a new dagger.”
Now Henry's eyes are just about falling out of his skull, and his mouth opens and closes without a sound. He's speechless for a whole minute, gaze still on the weapon in his hands.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I approached Jakub the blacksmith and asked him to show me how to do it. You needed a new dagger, right?”
“Right. But... I never expected you to get your hands dirty,” Henry explains, looking up at Hans with shining eyes. “Nobles usually don't do things like this.”
“I know. And normally I wouldn't, but I made this for a reason.” Without a second thought, Hans drops to his knees without breaking eye contact, his heart beating in his throat now. He reaches out with both hands, and Henry instantly puts the dagger aside to take them into his.
“Listen... you know that my wedding is on the horizon. Neither of us knows when Hanush will send for me, so... there is no better time to say this than now. Henry, you've awakened something in me that I've never known was there in the first place. I've developed such strong feelings for you that I can't imagine a life without you by my side anymore. And I want, no, need you to know that even with a wedding band on my finger, there will never be anyone else for me. Whatever happens, I don't want it to change what's between us. I love you more than life itself, and I will keep loving you for as long as my heart is still beating. This dagger is my promise to you that I will do whatever it takes to keep you at my side, and that I'm yours until I draw my last breath.”
For a long moment, neither of them speaks. Henry's eyes, now full of tears, betray a wide range of feelings – surprise, awe, love, joy, gratitude, and a hint of sadness. He takes a shaky breath and just lets the tears spill, too overwhelmed to hold them back. And when he finally opens his mouth, his words come out choked, thick with emotion.
“I didn't know I could love you even more, but here you are, proving me wrong.” He interrupts himself with a small chuckle. “This is perfect. You're perfect. I don't know what I've done to deserve you, but I'm yours for as long as there's life left in me. This really means the world to me, Hans. I can't thank you enough.”
Fighting his own tears now, Hans simply raises a hand and tenderly cradles Henry's cheek, watching his lover nuzzle into his palm like he's always belonged there.
He'll admit, Hans didn't fully grasp the true extent of his feelings until he was trapped in a small, dark cell in the Trosky dungeons, scared out of his mind, awaiting certain death. Back then, he thought his realization came too late, that he would take this secret to his grave, that Henry would never know. But Henry, ever the knight in shining armor, had come to save him at the last possible moment. He delayed the hanging just long enough for Sir Otto, cursed be his name, to return and put a stop to the madness.
This moment wouldn't have occurred if Hans had met his end at the behest of von Bergow's damned chamberlain. Not a single day goes by that he doesn't thank God for bringing Henry into his life, and for letting him live long enough to confess his feelings and have them reciprocated like this.
There is nothing that makes him happier than knowing that Henry loves him from the bottom of his heart. This is where Hans belongs, and there's nowhere he'd rather be.
Before he knows it, he's up on his feet and climbing into Henry's lap. They're both crying now, but there's a smile on their lips as they meet in the middle and seal the promise with a kiss.