Chapter Text
Unfortunately, Bartosch could not fulfill his promise of not letting Henry out of bed for days straight because the hunter’s hut near Talmberg was so poorly taken care of that it didn’t even have a bed.
Henry had managed to forget about it, no doubt too spoilt by the fact of having a room in a castle for himself for the past several months, and felt embarrassment creeping on the back of his neck when Bartosch had asked where they could sleep the night before.
The knight didn’t seem to be bothered by the necessity of sleeping on the floor and tried to wave Henry off with his apologies and promises to go to the carpenters the very next day. It still felt inappropriate to make a nobleman sleep on a thin mattress over wooden planks, and Henry even suggested that Bartosch could go to the castle to ask for an accommodation there, which would surely be granted to him by Sir Divish, which made Bartosch roll his eyes.
Henry apologised again when they woke up and the knight stretched his arms, a couple of joints popping with a loud sound. By hunter’s measure, it was already late, but Henry knew that he wasn’t expected to hunt immediately after arrival. They would have to fix their sleeping schedule, though. Well, “they”, only if Bartosch was in any way interested in hunting, too, which they hadn’t discussed, and Henry would perfectly understand if he refused.
“Are we going to see Sir Divish today?” Bartosch asked, his voice muffled by the bedcover.
Henry took a steadying breath. Yes, they should, to learn what had happened in the region and at least to get a run on his duties, but seeing Sir Divish meant seeing Lady Stephanie, who was…
“Yes,” he said briefly and walked out.
He rinsed his face with cold water and leant over the trough, fighting an urge to throw up. He’d thought about it, of course he had, but it had never caused him such turmoil. It hadn’t been his choice to conceive that child, and judging by the way Hanush and Radzig were talking about it, Sir Divish was nothing but happy with his wife’s pregnancy, despite the fact that, according to what the lady had told Henry, the couple hadn’t been intimate at the time. So it would make sense for Henry to not care about this child at all, to let it be born into a happy noble family, and live his life without ever thinking about it.
It was still absolutely wild to think that it was his.
He should tell Bartosch, he knew that. He wasn’t going to tell anyone else, he would not admit that under the worst torture, but Bartosch deserved to know, especially after Henry had dragged him here, to Talmberg, of all places.
He wanted to tell him when Bartosch joined him outside, hugging him from behind, when the knight washed his face and ran his wet hands through his dark hair, looking at the village and the castle with such marvel that Henry couldn’t bring himself to distract him. He wanted to tell him when they sat down to eat, but it seemed like an untimely topic for a mealtime. He wanted to tell him when Bartosch started unpacking his bags, but seeing him putting his things around the house, their house, made Henry keep his mouth shut.
It was also stupid because it was obvious to Bartosch that something was wrong. Henry knew he was being too quiet, too distracted for the knight to not notice anything, and still, he couldn’t bring himself to just say it.
He found his balls the moment Bartosch put his hands on the door handle, ready to open it before going to the castle to meet the local lord.
“Bart,” Henry called, and the knight looked at him in anticipation, “There is… there is something I didn’t tell you.”
Bartosch smiled and walked closer to him. “What, do you have a bastard you’re hiding in that castle?”
It was supposed to be a joke, something to lighten the mood, something so ridiculous that it definitely couldn’t be true, but the way Henry paled and sat down clearly meant the opposite.
“Hal?”
Henry closed his eyes and clenched his fist. The careful touch of his lover’s hand to his forearm made him breathe out slowly.
“Lady Stephanie is pregnant with my child.”
Bartosch didn’t say anything to that. Henry was waiting. He didn’t know what else to say. Should he apologise? Should he explain?
“Are you sure it’s yours?”
Henry opened his eyes to look at the knight, knelt in front of him.
“Of course I can’t be completely certain,” he muttered, “But the time is right, and I do not think she was… sleeping with someone else.”
It would have been easier to write it off as just being someone else’s, but it didn’t make sense. If she had wanted to lie with someone just to conceive, she could have done so well before him.
Bartosch didn’t know any of this, so Henry told him. He told him how uneasy he had felt when she had come to see him during his first night in Talmberg, how weird it was that she insisted that he come to her room, how he had been trying to persuade himself that it was an honour that a noble lady like her was even remotely interested in him.
Bartosch’s grip on his hand got tighter the more he talked.
“I should have told you,” Henry shook his head. “I should have told you before bringing you here, you didn’t–”
“Henry,” a gentle touch on his jaw made him look at the knight, “It's fine. I had no idea, I… I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
Henry frowned. “Through… through what?”
Bartosch looked at him for a couple of seconds. “Not knowing that she conceived from you.”
And Henry had a strong feeling that that’s not what he had meant to say.
“I should be happy, right?” he asked. “I should be thankful and honoured, but I’m not.”
“Hal, you didn’t know.”
Henry sighed. He was starting to think that maybe he would have preferred to be kept in the dark.
“Does anyone else know?”
Henry shrugged. “I think the other lords can guess that it’s not her husband. I haven’t told anyone, and I won’t.”
The knight’s hand was still caressing his arm and wrist. Bartosch hadn’t get mad at him, or jealous, or offended that he was only being told now, or God knows what else.
“Do you think her husband knows?”
Henry laughed. “I don’t know. He definitely can’t think it’s his.”
“When did he appoint you as master huntsman?”
“Not long before I left with Hans.”
“So what, two months after you’ve been together? She would have already been off her cycle then.”
Henry bit his lip, a smile on his face despite feeling like one step away from crying. “Look at you, being a midwife.”
Bartosch slapped him on the thigh. “There was a book on that in Suchdol. I think I memorised it from boredom. But seriously, Hal - if he knew, then he clearly does not mind. He gave you a house right outside the castle. If you know anything about the nobility, you know what that means.”
It was still fucking terrifying to go and look him in the eye.
Henry put his hand over Bartosch’s, rubbing his thumb over the knight’s knuckles.
“We should go, Hal.”
“I don’t know… I don’t know how I will react,” he whispered, hanging his head low and shutting his eyes again.
Bartosch put his forehead against Henry’s, pushing against him like a cat.
“I can’t even imagine what you feel like,” the knight said in a low voice. “Let’s just hope she will be in her chambers and won’t come out to see us.”
Us. Henry wanted to thank him, to tell him how grateful he was for Bartosch not getting mad or upset or accusing him of lying, but his lips were trembling, so he only nodded before following a tug of Bartosch’s hand toward the door.
Sir Divish was delighted to meet a nobleman from Prague, despite Bartosch repeatedly and humbly saying that his family wasn’t that important. The lord sat them down, making Henry tell him everything that had happened after Hans and he had left, and it took a fair bit of time to go through the entirety of the story. They were served a meal that, as Sir Divish pointedly said, was supplied by hunters from Sasau, and Henry smiled and promised him to get to his duties as soon as possible.
“We still have a stock for several days,” the lord said with a smile, “So you can have a rest from the journey. Sir Bartosch, tell me, do you–”
He was interrupted by the door behind him opening and the sound of voices of two maids accompanying his wife. Henry stood up, and so did Bartosch, stepping closer to the lady to bow to her while her husband introduced him. She reacted politely, saying how honoured they were to receive him in their humble castle, before turning to Henry, smiling slightly.
Henry couldn’t look her in the eye. He could only look at her stomach.
“May God grant you strong heirs, my lady,” Bartosch said politely.
Lady Stephanie smiled, her hand coming to rest over her stomach. “I thank you, Sir Knight. We are praying all will go well when the time comes. It might not be easy, with my age and the delivery in the middle of winter…”
Her husband said something in protest, insisting on her youth, but Henry didn't hear it.
The middle of winter.
It made him shudder. He knew it was his. The swell of the lady's belly was visible, given that she was rather slim. Her dress had had to be let out a bit to fit her, and Henry felt his pulse beat deafeningly in his ears.
“Henry,” he heard a quiet voice of Bartosch and the lightest touch of his hand over his back.
Henry dragged his eyes up, to the lady’s face. He wasn’t sure whether she’d greeted him already, so he bowed just in case.
She looked… absolutely normal. She wasn’t looking at him in some conspiratory way, or as if she was hiding something. Henry dared to look at Sir Divish, half expecting him to be staring the blacksmith down to see his reaction, but the lord wasn’t even paying him attention, inviting his wife to sit and get comfortable.
God, someone should say something because it was getting unbearable.
“Is there any news from Skalitz?” Henry asked, struggling to enunciate, his throat dry as parchment.
Sir Divish’s gaze was sympathetic. “No, I’m afraid. There’s no one to take over the reconstruction.”
“And the mines are still abandoned?”
“They are. Although there are fewer bandits and no Cumans now, so it must be safer… if you wish to go there.”
Henry nodded, his supply of small talk coming to an end.
Bartosch saved him, apologising to the noble couple and saying that they had some errands to do while the sun was still up. They were seen out of the castle with Sir Divish saying they shouldn't hesitate to come if they needed something.
Henry was led back to his hut, only realising that the moment the door behind them was closed by Bartosch. He focused his gaze on the knight, who was looking at him with worry.
“How are you, Hal?”
“I don’t know.”
Henry wasn’t sure what he felt. He wasn’t scared, he wasn’t sad, he wasn’t troubled. He just… There was a child. A real child inside that woman, which Henry had no idea about but now had seen with his own eyes. It wasn’t a noble rumour anymore, or something happening far away from him that he could just pretend wasn’t real.
She would give birth, and Henry would have a fucking child without ever being even let close to it.
Henry rubbed his eyes. “I can’t believe it.”
Bartosch took his hand carefully.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
“We’ll figure it out,” the knight reassured him, bringing a chair close to Henry to sit next to him. “It doesn’t look like it’s an issue for the lady and her husband.”
“I can’t believe it,” Henry repeated. “I have a child. It’s not possible, I can’t…”
Bartosch hugged him, bringing Henry’s head to his own shoulder, his hand in Henry’s hair. “It’s fine.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Aye, you said so,” the knight’s voice was quiet and gentle. Calming.
“Do you think I lied to you?”
Bartosch sighed, hugging Henry tighter. “God, my love, no.”
“But I should have told you.”
“It’s not exactly something you tell someone you just sleep with.”
“But you are not,” Henry said, raising his head. Bartosch was glad to see that he wasn’t crying. He brought his hand to rub on Henry’s temple, where the edge of his pauldron had left a red line. “You are not just someone I sleep with. I’m supposed to… share with you, am I not?”
They’d never talked about it, about what exactly they were to each other. Love had been confessed, and Henry had brought Bartosch with him to live in the same house, and it might have been self-explanatory, it would have been if Henry had done that to a girl, but Bartosch was not one.
“I guess so,” Bartosch replied.
If Henry had done that to a girl–
“I wish I could just ask for your hand,” Henry muttered.
Bartosch smiled. “Henry, I came here with you to live together, do you really think I care about such formalities?”
“I don’t know,” Henry replied. “I don’t know how long you want this to last. What do you plan to do with your life? You are a noble, I imagine you can’t just stay here… to hunt for the rest of your life.”
Bartosch shrugged. “I can’t imagine you staying here for the rest of your life, either. I’m not planning to go back to nobleman's life. I’d be way happier staying just a soldier. And with you.”
Henry gripped his hand.
“And you, Hal?”
Henry shrugged. “I’ll be wherever I’m sent to by someone more important than me. Preferably, by your side, too.”
A smile that was able to put his heart at ease came with some sadness in the knight’s eyes. “But you’ll want to have children, don’t you?”
Henry’s eyes darted to the side. He’d never thought about it properly. He hadn’t really had the time to.
“I don’t know,” he replied. “A year ago, I would have said yes, but I think it’s because I’m… supposed to. I mean, everyone does eventually. They get married and have kids.”
Because that’s what a man wanted - a wife that stayed at home, taking care of children, the more the better, while he was away, fighting. Did he really want it? Did he just think he had to?
“And now?” Bartosch asked.
“I don’t know how I can. If Zizka asks for my aid with something, am I supposed to just abandon my family for how long, half a year? Not see my kids for months?” Henry exhaled. He was also risking his neck every other day. How could he put that burden on some poor woman, to deal alone with children and a house in case he was killed? Theresa was right. “At least until I settle down somewhere, I don’t reckon I’ll want to think about it.”
“You don’t think you are going to… regret it?”
Was Bartosch asking whether Henry would regret choosing him instead of some woman? That he would wake up one day in five, ten, fifteen years, disappointed in not already having a family, resentful to Bartosch for standing in the way of this "normal" life? Henry could hardly imagine that.
“I can always find some orphan to take in,” he smiled.
Bartosch looked like he was not buying it, like he thought Henry was lying to spare his feelings. “But it’s not the same.”
Henry blinked as he straightened his back. “What?”
“It’s not the same to have your own child or the one you take in, isn’t it?”
Hurt burnt in his stomach. “So I guess my Pa doesn’t count, since I’m not ‘his own child’?” he asked through his teeth.
Bartosch’s eyes widened, his mouth falling open. “Fuck, I didn’t… I didn’t mean it.” He held Henry’s hand tighter. “I’m sorry, I do not believe any of it, but that’s what I always heard from others. You know, that every man wants it.”
“Do you?”
Bartosch shook his head. “I thought I was missing something. That since I’m not interested in women, I just can’t understand this desire for a family and whatnot. I’m sorry, Henry, I said it without thinking.”
Henry believed him. “So you don’t want children?”
Bartosch sighed. “I guess I figured that it was not worth the thought.”
“But if you could? Say, taking in a child, like I said?” Henry asked.
“With you?”
Something in his stomach fluttered. “Aye.”
“That would be fun, I bet.”
Henry put his head on the knight’s shoulder. He could imagine it, living in the countryside, a house similar to the one they were currently in. He would work in a forge. Bartosch could give sword-fighting lessons to some local soldiers.
“You’d teach him how to fight properly,” Henry said, and heard Bartosch laugh.
“And if it’s a girl?”
“You’d teach her, too. It won’t do her any harm.”
“I would spoil her rotten. She’d be insufferable to everyone around.”
“She’d have your eyes,” Henry muttered, looking into nothing.
“She won’t be mine, remember?”
Fuck. Right. Not their child, just some child from somewhere. Henry closed his eyes, letting his knight hold him until he felt better.
***
“I’m going to Skalitz.”
Bartosch looked at him, a sympathetic furrow on his forehead. “Tell me if you want to go alone,” he started, “I–”
“I’d like you to come,” Henry interrupted him.
Something in him made him want to show Bartosch the place he had grown up in, even if there wasn’t much left of it. Henry had already told Bartosch so much about Skalitz, about what it had been like, about his life and childhood, and Bartosch always listened with keen interest.
The closer they got to Skalitz, the quieter Henry went, his replies to the knight getting shorter and shorter until they turned into distracted humming.
Everything looked the same. There weren’t any bodies on the ground - thankfully, Radzig had paid the local gravediggers to bury them properly after the bandits had been dealt with with Henry’s help - but everything else, burnt houses, broken fences and doors, goods dropped to the mud, was still there.
Henry walked to the castle slowly. He saw Bartosch looking around, taking in the tragedy. Was it as bad as he imagined from Henry’s stories? Was it better, perhaps?
He tensed when he felt his hand being taken in a strong hold of the knight’s glove. Right. They were alone here. They could do that. He squeezed Bartosch’s hand back.
“Christ, Hal, that’s horrible,” the knight whispered, looking at the charred wood surrounding them.
Henry nodded, without really paying attention. His gaze was locked on a certain spot on the ground, on the small intersection of the village paths.
They had been buried, but Henry was sure he’d never be able to look at this place without seeing their dead bodies, broken unnaturally and covered in blood.
Henry opened his eyes when he felt the hand slip away from his hold, the knight walking away, heading to the forge. You didn’t need to be a genius to understand where exactly Henry had lived in this village.
Henry took out his sword as he approached the knight, who was standing in front of the anvil, looking over the burnt wood, his eyebrows knitted together.
“It’s…” Henry cleared his throat, “It’s the last thing that was made here.”
He stuck the sword in the ground and, after looking at it for some time, went to the house.
Everything inside looked smaller than he remembered. He picked up a couple of things thrown on the ground. God, he should deal with the mess. His house was not supposed to be in this state.
“I… I want to be alone for a bit,” he said to Bartosch.
The knight nodded. “I’ll be out there.”
Henry sat on the bed. His bed. Had it always been that hard?
It had already been half a year. It had only been half a year.
Henry lowered his head, feeling tears swelling in his eyes.
When he went outside, Bartosch was sitting on the grass in front of the grave. The grave that, Henry noticed, had just been carefully cleaned from fallen leaves and sticks.
“Thank you.”
“It’s nothing,” Bartosch said, standing up. “I’ll go see if I can get to the castle.”
“I don’t think it’s possible,” Henry replied, but the knight didn’t answer, leaving him alone again and definitely on purpose.
Henry sat down, looking at the cross. A lot had happened since the last time he’d been here.
“I… you’ll be glad to know that I’m still alive,” he started. “And well. I’ve met new people, lords and soldiers. We defended a castle. Again. And we robbed the Italian Court. You’d probably be unhappy with me for that.” He looked at the ground. “But I don’t regret it. And I’ve met someone. He is a knight and a nobleman from Prague. You’ve been to Prague, right, Pa? Maybe you’ve even seen his parents or sold a sword to them.” Henry smiled. It wasn’t completely impossible, but on the chance it had happened, it would be… highly amusing. “He is brave and kind, like a knight is supposed to be. I think you’d like him, Ma. He’s my…” God, why wasn’t there a word for it? “He loves me too. I don’t know why, I don’t know what someone like him would see in me, but I’m glad he does. Oh, and he studied at university! I guess you should be proud that your son managed to get the attention of such a distinguished lord. That would be quite a match were I a girl.”
He heard footsteps, which were louder than they needed to be, way louder than the knight walked normally, to make his presence known.
“I… We are staying in Talmberg for a while,” he said to the grave again, “So I’ll come visit more often.”
Bartosch stepped into his field of view. “I can leave for longer if you want.”
Henry shook his head, standing up. “No, it’s fine. I said what I wanted to.”
He pulled Bartosch closer, putting his hands on the knight’s lower back.
“You look better,” Bartosch said quietly.
Henry smiled. “I feel better.” It was true. Calmer. Less anxious. “Thank you, Bart. For coming with me.”
The knight shook his head. “It’s nothing. And I wanted to see Skalitz, too.”
“How’s the castle?”
Bartosch laughed. “It looks like you can climb the broken wall, but I wouldn’t dare try alone.”
“We can try next time we come here.”
***
Henry was all in his head again by the time they got back to the hunter’s hut. The sense of relief and contentment he'd gotten after going to Skalitz seemed to be fading out the closer they were to Talmberg.
It was a stupid idea to come here. Why had he decided it would work? How the fuck had he imagined it would go with Lady Stephanie? And to drag Bartosch into it, too…
Henry was mad at himself when the knight put a hand on his shoulder after they'd eaten in almost complete silence. They had stopped by the carpenters earlier, but for now, Bartosch would have to spend yet another night on the floor. A shame was creeping its way under Henry’s skin, making his face warm and his hands tremble. He had thought they'd be able to spend some carefree time here, basking in some freedom and a lack of constant supervision, but he had been fucking wrong. He had problem after problem after problem, and it was just unfair to Bartosch, who had to spend his time consoling and comforting him.
There was only one thing Henry could think of to make up for it.
The knight let out a muffled yelp of surprise when Henry turned to him and dragged him into a rough kiss. Bartosch seemed to hesitate for a split second before his hands settled on Henry's waist, but he got into it quickly enough, pressing flush against the blacksmith, fingers dropping from his waist to his arse.
Henry walked backward until he felt the edge of the bedroll against his heels, and he took his shirt off before sitting down, tugging Bartosch with him. The least he could do was not to make the knight lie on the straw.
He felt like shit. He wasn't really in the mood, after this whole fucking day that had been supposed to consist of him happily showing Bartosch around, but instead turned into seeing his unborn child and his dead parents. He really wanted to just go to sleep, to have Bartosch hug him tight, but he also wanted to make it better for the knight. To show him there was something good they could have here, despite what was happening outside of this hut.
Bartosch was kissing his neck, his hand sneaking its way around Henry's cock, and he exhaled from how nice it felt.
No, you are supposed to be doing the job, not him.
Henry let this thought dissipate in his mind under the skilled movements of Bartosch’s mouth and fingers. Fuck, he felt so good even when Henry didn't want it. He held tight onto Bartosch’s neck, thrusting into his hand, whimpering from the lips and tongue lathering onto his neck, biting the skin over his collarbones. He licked his own spend off of Bartosch’s fingers, the knight's eyes transfixed on his mouth.
Henry flipped them around, his hand immediately finding Bartosch’s erection, leaking, because, as always, pleasuring Henry was apparently enough for him. Henry closed his eyes, thanking the stars for this man and feeling another pinch of guilt in his heart, and opened his mouth to show him exactly how thankful he was, to show him that it was worth staying here.
He licked from base to the tip, closing his lips around the head and pressing his tongue against it in his mouth. Henry took more in, stopping about halfway from a sudden wave of tiredness rolling through his body. He stilled, his eyes closed, breathing in the heady smell that made his head spin, feeling a strong, sword-roughened hand resting casually on his shoulder blade, and he suddenly felt empty.
Not in a hollow, unpleasant way, which could make one feel lonely.
In a soft, relieving feeling, his mind void of all the annoying thoughts and struggles it had been progressively filled with since this bloody morning. He'd felt that way the day after the siege had ended, when he'd woken up in Bartosch’s arms, feeling like nothing else mattered except for the soothing warmth next to him, like all the worries in his head were pushed away to be dealt with later, at a less important moment.
Henry blinked, confused by the feeling but terrified to scare it away. He gently sucked on the cock in his mouth, without getting it any deeper. He wanted it to stay that way, just to keep it in his mouth. He didn't know why. He just really, really wanted to.
He put his head on Bartosch’s hip and took his hand off his hardened length, instead letting it lie on the junction of the knight's hip and thigh, feeling the pulse beating under his fingers. Henry closed his eyes again, sealing his lips around Bartosch’s cock and suckling on it slowly.
It shouldn't have felt even half as good as it did, but the gentle slide of the soft flesh against his tongue and lips was somehow calming, making the tension melt away, a warm fuzzy feeling spreading through his bones. He heard Bartosch say his name, but he ignored it; his voice sounded too distant to pay it any attention, and Henry really didn't want to stop. He let Bartosch’s cock slip out of his mouth a bit to be able to use his tongue, swirling it painfully slowly around the head, lapping at it leisurely before taking more back in again. The weight and stretch of it was so calming, Christ, even the strongest alcohol couldn't get him to relax and forget so quickly. Was it perhaps because Henry had only ever had his lover's cock in his mouth when he was in a good state, content, safe? He had no idea. He could wonder about it later.
He felt Bartosch thread his hand into his hair, caressing his scalp with the gentlest motions, not tugging or making him swallow it deeper, and Henry's heart sang from knowing that Bartosch was happy with it, too.
He felt warm. So comfortable despite the fact that they were lying on the ground. So relaxed he didn't notice how he fell asleep.
When Henry opened his eyes, his jaw was a bit sore, but it passed quickly as he rubbed it with his palm, the remnants of the dull ache even somewhat pleasant. He lifted his head to see Bartosch sleeping peacefully, his cock soft and unspent under Henry's chin. He'd have to make it up for him, Henry thought, as he moved slightly higher. He put his head on Bartosch’s stomach, his hand coming to embrace the opposite side of it.
Henry was worried that all his troubles would come crashing back now that he didn't have anything to distract himself with, but they didn't.