anything for you, my lord

He usually saw them smiling all happily in the dream, saw them greeting and taking him into their open arms with both pride and joy, before they usually turned towards a strange young boy who’d come into view by his side. A boy who usually looked a little different in each version of the dream, but a boy who his parents would open their arms for just as widely.

And somehow deep down, each time, right before Hans would wake up, it was as though he could always tell that that young boy was his own son – a son who had come from a far and distant future. A future that looked bright and happy and filled with warmth.

That first recurring dream of his was just as much of a happy dream as it was a sad one, however. Terribly so.

It was happy because, while immersed in it, Hans always felt rather warm and hopeful of what was to come in his future. Light. And yet, it was naturally also a sad dream, because once he would eventually be taken out of it, Hans could never help but cry. That was, for a future life and a son that was utterly unreachable and lost forever.

Perhaps it would be surprising to hear that, despite what his latest adventures with medicines and poisons may have suggested, Hans did in fact think that he would rather enjoy becoming a father one day. Because in the end, what sort of nobleman didn’t enjoy the thought of continuing his mighty dynasty with a strong and fit heir?

If Hans were given a normal and moral life, unlike the one he was stuck with, then he might have even considered having a child in the next couple of years ahead. However, that was of course only if Hans had enough luck and charm to have fallen in love and be happily wed to a suitable noblewoman by then in the first place.

Hans wasn’t a badly looking fellow per se, after all. He shouldn’t have had that much of a problem with the ladyfolk. And in fact, he didn’t; the ladies quite fancied him. But alas, as he was now, stuck in the life of a sinner, the most he was given instead were nightly visions and whispers of such a family, as well as… the other recurring dream which seemed to have come in tandem with his foretold future family: and that was the fairly recent dream of him and his squire, Henry, usually locked in an eternal carnal dance of the flesh. Or to put it in more precise terms – he kept dreaming of the two having sex almost every second night.

And, oh, how Hans despised his mind for tormenting him with such vulgar dreams.

For more times than he would ever admit, even under arduous torture, Hans had made himself spill with his cock in hand, thinking about those wicked dreams, and had hated his very own flesh afterwards every single time he did it, since Hans naturally was well aware how utterly shameful and degrading such fantasies and actions were.

And as for what Hans thought of himself for it? Well… Perhaps it wouldn’t be too far from what his uncle, Hanush, had thought of him.

Hans was a walking disgrace dressed as a nobleman; that’s what he was. A foul creature of the night. A lazy and drunken layabout. A bloody sodomite.

Someone who was destined to burn in Hell by no other fault but his own, and yet, he was also someone who still had the gall to ask God: Why?

Why must you curse me so, my Lord? What did you do it for?