Archive of Our Own ^beta

Henry tried not to shift his feet as he undid the straps that fastened his breastplate. He would keep the mail on, although the hem itched against his hide. It made him feel restless, and he had to take a small half step to the side to compensate for the strange, tickling energy that seemed to be running through him. 

“Hold still, Henry!” Hans grumbled, grabbing for the foot that had once again slipped out of his hand mid-pick. 

“I’m sorry. I just… wait. Let go for a second?” Henry shifted his weight and tugged gently at the hoof Hans was trying valiantly to clean.

“No, I need to clean your hooves, you know that rock wi-”

“Hans!” Henry turned, pulling his hoof from Hans and shaking himself. “Go stand over there for a minute, okay? I promise. Just for a minute, and then I’ll settle down.”

Hans huffed, throwing his hands in the air and stomping over to lean against the tree Henry had indicated. It sat at the edge of the small meadow they had decided to stop in. “Fine! I’m over here now! Is this somehow better for Stubborn Page Maintenance?”

Henry didn’t answer, he simply took off in a wild hopping canter around the meadow, running around in circles and kicking his hind legs out. He swung his arms around, whooping as he careened around the meadow, passing Hans multiple times with delighted laughter. 

“What are you doing, you moon-witted creature?!” he called after the third pass. Watching him prance and leap with such chaotic and obvious joy was hard to scowl at, and Hans worked hard to keep displeasure on his face when Henry finally returned a scant few minutes later. His sides were heaving and his face was flushed, but his smile was wide and boyish. It was an expression Hans hadn't gotten to see much on Henry’s face, and that was a crying shame. The man was so much more handsome when he let some light back into his eyes. For this, in exchange for that gleam, Hans could let Henry be a little wild. 

“Sorry, sorry. I just… I had to get some of that out. It was hard to stand still.” 

Hans let the facade drop. “Even after the long ride to get here?” he asked, walking over slowly. 

“Yeah, I don’t know. It just happens sometimes. I’m okay now, though.” Henry worked on regaining his breath as Hans returned to his side, lifting his left foreleg with a pointed stare before beginning to clean his foot. 

“Well, I hope you’re happy. All that prancing around like a giddy foal has torn up the flowers all over the place.” Hans glanced around as he worked. “What a shame.”

Henry ducked his head, but true to his word he stood still for Hans while he worked. “There, all better.” 

Henry stamped a few times before abruptly stopping, realizing he was just further crushing the poor flowers. “I'm sorry I ruined the view.”

Hans waved a hand dismissively, moving to their pile of gear to begin setting up the camp. “It's fine. It's not like we came to pick flowers.”

“Actually–” Henry ignored Hans’ unsurprised snort. “–I am really low on marigold. I might pick more while I'm here.” 

“Of course you are,” Hans said, going to his pack to swap the pick for a brush. This was maybe his favorite part of being Henry’s… Henry’s friend. This physical contact that so few were allowed, the ease of camaraderie he was granted. They had both been so excited by the prospect of their mission to Trosky that Henry hadn’t even bothered to wait for Hans to get Pebbles from the stables. They’d laughed their way through getting his saddle on, and then Hans barely had time to hoist himself up before Henry was taking off, trotting as quickly as he could through the town and out into the countryside where he had the freedom of the open road and Hans could simply hold onto the harness and enjoy the ride.  

The brush made a steady shhh-shhh-shhh sound as he worked it through the glossy brown coat, and the odor of horse was strong after their run. Hans didn’t mind as much as he used to, not when everything he owned was permeated with the smell these days. It was almost a badge of honor, he reflected, smoothing the brush along Henry’s hip. The stable boys may all smell like horse, yes, but Hans smelled like Henry . 

“Where have you wandered off to?” Henry asked quietly, humming as Hans paused to give a hearty scratch to the top of his rump, where Henry could never manage to reach on his own. 

“Hmm?”

“You’re quiet. Where’s your mind gone off to?”

It was absolutely out of the question to tell Henry the truth, which was that Hans was reflecting on the way the light shone on his bay coat and complimented the tan of his skin and the blue of his eyes and the green tunic he seemed to prefer when not in armor. “I’m just wondering if there’s any point in trying to do anything out here now that you’ve been thundering around and probably scared off every living creature in a mile radius.”

“I didn’t really think we were out here to hunt anyway,” Henry said. “Do that spot again, it felt- ahhhh…”

Hans obligingly dropped the brush into the grass and set to with both of his hands, tensing his fingers and reaching high to get the spot between Henry’s lower shoulders with a good hard scratching. He had to keep dodging to the side as Henry continuously sidestepped closer. “I guess we’re not. We’re not even out here for the night, we didn’t bring anything with us.” 

“Ahhh, that’s fine. We should go back soon anyway, they’ll be sending us out in a day or two.” Henry stepped away, shaking himself vigorously in a riot of jingling chainmail before dancing over to a sunny patch near the center of the meadow, where he flopped down in a cloud of pollen and fallen flower petals. 

“But it did feel good to get out for a bit,” Hans said, swapping his tools again and retrieving a comb. “Now will you hold still? I swear, you fidget worse than a bored child..”

Henry snorted, waiting for Hans to settle down before rolling dramatically onto his side, his tail flopping out to whack Hans. Hans responded by rolling over as well and reaching out to smack Henry on his hip. The reaction was immediate. Henry jumped, rolling wildly until he got his feet under him and was able to get up and step away, breathing heavily. “Ow! Damn it, Hans!”

Immediately Hans was rolling to his feet as well, both hands out in apology. “Shit, I’m sorry! Henry, I’m so sorry! I forgot about the– your– injury,” he finished lamely. 

They didn’t speak about the brand much. Hans wasn’t sure Henry ever would. 

“Christ!” Henry walked hesitantly back, sidestepping slowly until he was within reach for Hans again. 

“Henry, I am so, so sorry, are you okay?” Hans slowly began to run his hand along Henry’s lower shoulder in long, soothing strokes. 

“I’m fine, you’re the one I’m worried about! What if you’d really hurt me and I rolled over on top of you accidentally?”

Hans blinked in the face of this and realized Henry’s frown wasn’t anger, it was fear. “Henry… you’d never. I’m not worried about it, you’d never hurt me.” 

“I could , though!”

The idea was so patently ridiculous that Hans burst out laughing. “You absolutely could not. Henry, even if you tried to hurt me you’d never let yourself. You’d rather get yourself impaled on a spear than accidentally lose me in the saddle.”

Henry rubbed ruefully at the scar Hans was referring to. “Just… please, be more careful, okay? I couldn’t stand to lose a… a friend.”

Hans had to turn away. He hid his giddy concern by flopping onto his back in the grass, hoping the overgrown flowers would hide the blush he knew was engulfing his face. Henry had never called him a friend before. As far as Hans knew, Henry had never called anyone friend before, at least not anyone who wasn't from Skalitz. Hans had always sort of understood, it was implied , they both seemed to know they were friends, but Henry had never used the word directly before. He didn’t know what to say to that, so he simply didn’t. After a moment, there was a great deal of shuffling nearby and then a great whoosh as Henry flopped down carefully beside him again. 

“I’m sorry, Henry. You won’t lose me, I promise.”

Henry shifted carefully closer so that he could reach out with one hind leg and nudge Hans gently with his hoof. “I know.” 

“Stop that. Here, hold still and I’ll fix your tail. Saints, it’s like you somehow manage to tangle it on purpose.”

Peace fell on the meadow as they settled down again, Hans working the comb gently through the knots and tangles. Henry reached out in a radius around where he could reach, plucking any dandelions he could find and munching on them. 

“Are you eating the scenery again, you beast?” 

Henry chuckled. “I’m bored. And hungry. It’s hard work, hauling your arse around.”

Hans sighed dramatically. “Good lord, I employ a heathen. Go on then, tell me what that flower is.” 

Henry looked around. “Which one?”

“That… that purpley one. With the black.”

Henry plucked it. “It’s a pansy.”

Hans glanced up, watching Henry examine the small flower with care. “Are you going to eat it?”

Henry laughed. “You can, they’re quite nice. A little like vaguely sharp cabbage, I suppose. Go on, try it. I promise it’s safe.”

Hans didn’t even look; he reached out, took the flower he was handed, and popped it into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully. “Tastes like grass.”

“That is because you grew up spoiled with fancy meals made by a fancy cook.”

“Or maybe it’s because I’m not a horse.”

“Oi!” Henry nudged him with his hind leg. 

Hans chuckled. “Go on then, what’s that funny white one?”

“What, this one?” Henry touched the large, flat cluster of tiny white blossoms. “It’s a wild carrot. Here, look.” He leaned forward and dug gently around the cluster of stems, tugging until an ugly whitish root emerged from the ground.

“That is not a carrot.” 

“It’s sort of like a carrot-cousin.”

“Yes, from the inbred side of the family,” Hans said, setting aside the comb and running his fingers through the smooth, thick hair of Henry’s tail. “Shall I braid it?”

Henry twisted to look behind him. “You can if you want, but you don’t really need to.”

“No, I think I will,” Hans said, and Henry knew he would have done it even if Henry had asked him directly not to. Not that he could ever say no to his bratty lord. 

“So, what else can you eat around here?” Hans asked, settling back into his work. 

Henry looked around. “Well, my Ma used a lot of these around the house for stuff. And a lot of them are medicinal in some way or another, so I guess technically most of the field is edible, really. But you don’t want to just go reaching down and eating them by the handful. The pansy’s all right, and the wild carrot. Dandelions are fine, mint too. You can eat nettle, but you need to cook it first…” 

His voice was soothing, warm and a little deep, as familiar to Hans now as the blanket on his bed. He listened as Henry extolled the different virtues of all the various flowers he could see from his position, and as the sun began its slow downward crawl toward the horizon, he stood and stretched. “All right, come on then. I suppose it’s time we got back.”

Henry stood as well, stamping his feet in a little circle as he tried to glance back at his tail. “Hans…? What did you do to my tail? It feels funny.”

“I just braided it a little,” Hans said, heading for their gear. 

Henry finally stopped turning and managed to twist himself around to get a better look. His tail was braided, that he could see, but it had also been studded with flowers. “Oh, you bastard! Get back here and take those out!”

“What? I think they look lovely!” Hans chuckled.

“What am I, some kind of fairy tale princess? Get rid of them!” Henry took little hops over to Hans, shaking his tail and trying to wiggle it free. 

“Get rid of them yourself if you don’t like them!” Hans watched Henry prance and spin in circles, trying to shake the braid loose. 

“I’m trying! Right, that’s it, have fun walking back to Rattay on your own!” 

“What? Are you leaving the stuff here too?”

“Aye, you can stay here with the rest of the baggage!” 

“Now hold on a minute…!”