Hans Capon had never been the picture of the ideal nobleman—he enjoyed the finer things in life, relished in leisure, and carried himself with the confidence of a man who had always had privilege at his fingertips. Yet, it faltered when he was arranged to marriage to a noblewoman he never even met.

He remembered when he shared his fears with Henry, his knight, and his dearest friend (or, lover) one night while they lay bare in bed. Henry gave him a sympathetic, sad look, like he knew it would bring an end to their quiet warm nights together, but had also already accepted that it had to be done.

For a long time, their nights alone stopped. Hans had to share a bed with his wife, and Henry got a bed in the barracks.

But then the Hussite Wars began, burning across Bohemia, and it should've terrified Capon when he was sent off to war with Henry. Instead? He relished in each night they could spend in a tent together in the middle of camp.

Then one battle, a raid in the middle of the night, struck the camp. Hans hardly remembered the night, only that he was half-dead and being carried by Henry. He vaguely remembered Henry begging him to stay awake. And then they were in a tavern inn, with Henry tending to him.

They deserted, took the opportunity to escape responsibility (Hans idea, of course), and left. Everyone thought Hans was dead, and that Henry must've left from grief, but instead? They were hundreds of leagues away in some remote village in Italy, in a hut that Henry fixed up for them, enjoying a quiet life together without expectations.

It was early in the morning, light tricking in through the open window when Hans woke up blearily to the sounds of Henry outside chopping wood (the bastard always was up too early). He laid there for a long time, staring at the ceiling and listening, before the sound stopped and Henry was inside again.

Hans tilted his head, squinting at the light. "You're up early," he mumbled with a yawn, stretching his arms up, letting his eyes close as a content smile found his lips.