#alpha henry

Hans woke up to the light of the sun on his face and the crowing of a rooster somewhere in the distance. There was a hand in his, warm and grounding, and when he took a deep breath he smelled sweet honey and meadows.

Henry.

He was still there, right where he had been when Hans had fallen asleep, sitting on the floor with his head resting against Hans' thigh and his lips slightly parted in his sleep. Hans reached out to run a thumb over the other boy's cheek, still in disbelief over the fact that he was really here. He was alive. And he wasn't alone.

Henry stirred at the soft touch on his face, his eyes blinking open and immediately searching for Hans. The moment their eyes met his entire posture relaxed, and he squeezed Hans’ hand where it laid between them.

“Hey,” he whispered, smiling softly.

“Hey.”

“Are you alright?”

Hans nodded, giving Henry's hand a squeeze as well. “Yes. Thanks to you.”

Almost instantly the alpha's smile widened, pride clear in the way his eyes lit up and his scent grew bolder.

Before Hans had the chance to say anything more, there was a soft knock on the door, and Hans hated how his entire body tensed up at the sound. He was not in danger anymore. Henry’s parents had been nothing but kind to him so far, and yet Hans’ first instinct was to cower and hide. The other boy must have noticed him freezing, because he gently squeezed Hans’ hand and searched for his eyes with a calming smile. His scent turned sweeter still, until it smelled more like the flowery golden honey Hans had tasted once from an Italian merchant in Rattay than the spicy forest honey the beekeepers of Bohemia usually sold. It calmed Hans down almost immediately.

“Come in,” he called out to his parents then, and Hans pressed his face into Henry’s neck, both to bury himself further in the calming scent of golden honey and to hide his face from the parents’ view.

“Hey you two,” Henry’s mother greeted them, her voice a gentle breeze in the stillness of morning. “We hope you could catch some sleep after that night of yours.”

Hans could feel Henry nod where his chin had come to rest atop his head.

“You too, Hans?”

Hans carefully peaked out from his hiding place in Henry’s neck. “Yes, ma’am.” When his eyes met those of Henry’s mother, he almost broke into tears. He couldn’t quite remember when someone had last looked upon him with such patience and compassion, as if he could do no wrong in this moment. As if he didn’t have to tread through a sea of glass every time he opened his mouth, always in danger of cutting himself.

“I’m glad then,” she whispered, reaching out to gently brush a stray strand of hair behind his ear, and Hans blinked away real tears this time. He barely remembered how his mother’s touch had used to feel like these days, the memory distant and fuzzy with how young he had been at the time of her death. The reassuring brushes, the worried fuzzing, all of it had become a blur of half forgotten fragments in his mind. Years he had gone without a mother’s love, and it was only now that he realised how much he had missed it.

Henry’s father cleared his throat quietly to the mother’s side then, his eyes just as piercing and knowing as the night before. But this morning a small smile grazed his face, which softened his features into something much less intimidating.

“Christine and I wanted to let you know that you’re welcome to stay with us for as long as you want, Hans. We might not know what exactly happened to you yesterday, and you don’t have to feel obliged to tell us, but you’ll have a home here from now on.”

Only a week ago, Hans couldn’t even have fathomed the idea of ever being denied his home, or his title. His birthright. He had believed himself as untouchable as any spoilt Lordling did, entitled to his every wish, his comfort a God-given right. He had ordered around servants with a snap of his fingers, a single glare enough to make guards scramble to fulfill his demands, even at eleven years old.

And now he was breaking into tears at being offered a roof over his head. A place to sleep. A home.

And a family.

The hug he was being pulled into warmed Hans in a way no sturdy castle or noble title ever had.

–

It was some time later, when Hans had been granted some fresh clothes of Henry’s to wear and a bowl of stew to eat – the warmth of it settled his frayed nerves at long last – that he was reminded of the injury he had acquired in the woods. A wrong move sent pain pulsing through his ankle, and Hans hissed through his teeth at the sudden hot flash of agony. The potion Henry had given him had done wonders the day before, but apparently its effects were finally wearing off now.

Of course the young alpha noticed his discomfort nearly instantly, the change of Hans’ scent likely enough to alarm him.

“Is your foot hurting again?” Hans nodded once, more a jerk of his head than anything. “We should probably get the sawbones to take a look at it, in case it’s broken and needs a brace.”

Henry was already up and off the bench the moment he finished speaking, the task settling comfortably on his shoulders. Hans had already noticed in the short time that they’ve known each other that Henry seemed most at peace when there was a task on his mind, or a quest to offer him direction. The moment they had settled to rest today, Henry had turned restless. Of course the way he jumped at helping someone else, especially someone like Hans, could be attributed to him being an alpha – his instincts drilled to protect and care and provide. But something in the way he looked at Hans, not with possessiveness or responsibility but with care and respect, made him believe that the other boy had simply always been that way.

A helper at heart.

Just as his mother and father.

The two of them agreed easily to Henry announcing that he would go and find the local sawbones, even if their brows pinched into an expression Hans couldn’t quite place. It was settled somewhere between worry and frustration, and when they moved to whisper something to one another as Henry closed the door behind himself, Hans strained his ears to catch their conversation across the room.

“Do we have the silver to pay the sawbones?” the mother whispered, and Martin sighed softly.

“No, we don’t. But I’m finishing up an order for Radzig at the end of this week. We will make due until then.”

A wary smile graced the mother’s lips then, a kind of tired determination in her eyes that made something in Hans’ chest ache.

“I’ll make sure the boys eat.”

Her tone made it quite clear that Henry and him would be the only ones eating that week. They said it all so calmly, so imperturbable, as if the mere idea didn’t twist Hans’ stomach into knots. Never in his life had Hans had to worry about money, about food. He’d only ever had to complain loud enough for someone to overhear, and he’d be granted his every wish without ever lifting a finger. After all, he had always been part of the bellatores, the lucky few in their world that had been granted the God-given status of nobility. A life free of labour and poverty.

But that life had suddenly been snatched away from him. No God-given status had been enough to protect him when it came to matters of power, and so he had been reduced to a part of the laboratores, just like that – his blue blood forgotten the moment he was deemed too weak to ever rule.

And peasants starved so that the Lords could feast.

That was just how it was.

When it had been nameless farmers and miners in the outskirts of Rattay, Hans had barely cared about such suffering. He had been only distantly aware that the food on his table was a privilege; that whole families were starving outside the castle walls just so that there was as much food in his belly as he desired. But now that he could look into the eyes of Henry’s parents, he suddenly found it terribly unjust.

Parents starved so that the children could eat.

Only because the nobility valued a feast more than the life of peasantry, whilst those same peasants valued his life – the life of a noble outcast – more than keeping themselves from starvation.

That was how it really was.

–

When Henry returned with the sawbones, Hans kept silent. He saw the man’s eyes widen at his presence, his nostrils flare at his scent. Omegas were rare, and rarer even among common folk. The man had questions, but he kept them to himself. Stayed professional.

Hans cooperated easily. Didn’t flinch when the sawbones prodded at his ankle, didn’t complain when he was made to put weight on the injured foot. Henry stood behind him like a hound keeping guard, watching the man’s every move and Hans’ every expression.

“Nothing seems broken,” the man said eventually, standing to his full height. “Keep it tightly bandaged. Some ointment with comfrey should help with the swelling and pain. Rest the foot as best you can.”

“I will, Sir,” Hans whispered, bowing his head. He had never bowed to anyone. “Thank you.”

He had never shown anyone such real respect. Had never said Sir and believed himself inferior. Smaller. Lesser. But he was all those things now. He would have to bow deeply before nobility. Watch his tongue in front of authorities. A common sawbones was now his better.

Hans bowed again as the man left. He didn’t need to, but he did so anyway.

It was Henry’s mother that bandaged his foot later, after Henry had gone out to collect some comfrey for the ointment. Every one of her touches was practiced and filled with care. Hans imagined that she had performed a similar task for her son or husband dozens of times before; and now she did so for him. Unasked. And when it was all done, she pressed a feather-light kiss to the bandaged foot.

“There. All better now.”

He didn’t cry.

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not,” she answered immediately, and it was comforting even if Hans knew it was a lie.

“I want to learn how to be of help. How to be useful.” She smiled up at him, a soft kind of look in her eyes that made her look both younger and wiser.

“That can wait until tomorrow, little bird. For now, let’s get some dinner for you.”

The forest was a scary place at night.

Leaves rustled in the wind, branches snapped, and sometimes the howl of a lone wolf would carry through the darkness, like a distant warning to never stray from the road, lest the beasts of the woods tear you apart limb by limb. Truthfully, Henry hadn’t planned to stay away for so long. Mother had sent him to Samopesh for herbs and a few vials of painkiller brew around noon, and she had expected him back home in time for supper. But the sun had wandered faster along the horizon than he had along the roads, and before Henry had even noticed they were in a race, it had passed the finish line beyond the canopy of trees.

So now he was hurrying along the road back to Skalitz, a torch held in his one hand to lighten the path, mentally preparing himself for his mother’s ire once he arrived back home. Alpha or not, he was too young to be running around the woods at night. Especially in these early days of spring, where frost took hold of Bohemia once the sun disappeared. The roads were not the safest of places even in daylight; bandits and cutthroats often lurked in the shadows of trees, only waiting for the opportunity to jump an unsuspecting citizen on their way home. At night those bandits turned bolder, spurred on by the cover of darkness that hid their attacks from God’s watchful eyes.

When Henry suddenly heard movement beyond the treeline, every instinct in his body screamed at him to run, but he remained rooted to the spot. It was a soft rustle, leaves and twigs scraping along the forest floor. Then, nothing. Silence. Henry was almost convinced he had imagined the whole thing, or that an animal had simply flitted by, scared away by his fire, but then an unusual smell hit his nose. Tart and sweet, like a bush of ripe blackberries.

But it was early spring. Blackberries weren’t in season for another few months.

Curiosity overtook Henry’s common sense in the end. How dangerous could something be that smelled of blackberries?

Henry moved towards the trees with slow and measured steps, careful to keep his torch away from dry branches. The last thing he needed was to set off a wildfire because he wasn’t properly careful with his flame. He passed the first few lines of trees without hearing or seeing anything, but the smell of blackberries grew stronger the further he went. Something was mixed into the scent; something bitter and putrid that his brain categorised as fear, which didn’t make any sense to him. How could something smell of fear?

“Hello?” Henry called out softly, because he did not want to scare whatever was hiding out there. “I… I don’t want to hurt you. But perhaps I could… help?”

God above, Henry had no idea what he was doing. He might be talking to a bush of scared blackberries for all that he knew.

But then, just to his right, he heard a quiet whimper. A human whimper. Henry immediately turned towards the sound, holding out his torch to see just the tiniest bit further. Down on the ground, pressed against a thick tree trunk, was a boy. He was curled into himself, his face hidden behind dirty, trembling knees. There were no shoes on his feet. One of his ankles was dark blue and swollen, and Henry thought he could make out blood under the dirt on his soles.

He quickly knelt in front of the boy, leaning his torch against the base of the trunk so that his hands were free. But the boy flinched away from him the moment Henry came closer, trying to scramble away backwards on his hands and feet. There were tear-tracks in the dirt on the boy’s face, and his eyes were blown wide with fear. In the deep orange light of the torch his eyes looked almost green.

“Hey, no, it’s okay!” Henry kept his voice low and soft, and raised his hands in a placating gesture, like he would do if he wanted to calm a spooked horse. “I don’t want to hurt you. I promise.”

The boy did not answer, but he didn’t try to scramble away any further either.

“My name’s Henry.” Again, no answer. “Do… Do you have a name?”

The boy looked at him like he was a bit of an idiot. Henry supposed that was fair, considering the question.

“...Hans.” His voice was so quiet, Henry could barely hear it, even in the near-complete silence of the forest. Everything about this boy was small and soft and vulnerable, and Henry wanted nothing more than to bundle him up in a thousand blankets, where nothing bad could get to him ever again.

The intensity of that feeling startled him for a moment; his heart was practically beating out of his chest with the need to protect and care.

“Where are your parents?” Hans’ lower lip began to tremble at that question, his eyes turning sad. “Grandparents? Siblings?”

Henry regretted asking almost immediately, as the boy broke into tears the moment the question had left his lips. The tears were filled with so much pain and grief he could hardly begin to understand what he was seeing. What Henry did understand was that for whatever reason, Hans was all alone. Alone and hurt in a dark and dangerous forest with nowhere to go.

Henry scooted closer to the other boy, careful in reaching out for the smaller body, afraid he’d somehow break him with his touch. But Hans turned towards him like a flower turned towards the sun, shuffling closer and hiding his tear-stained face in Henry’s neck. His cold nose pressed against the spot where Henry’s heart was pulsing rabbit-quick beneath his skin, tickling the sensitive spot with shaky exhales. All Henry could really do was wrap Hans up in an embrace, offering comfort as the other boy slowly fell apart within his arms.

“It’ll be okay,” he whispered, placing a small kiss on top of Hans’ golden hair. “You can come with me! My- My parents and I can take care of you. They’re good people, they’d never send away a boy in need, I’m sure of that.”

Blue eyes glanced up at Henry with so much fragile hope he felt his heart crack clean in two, one part of it now clearly belonging to the boy in his arms. He raised a hand to carefully wipe the tears away from Hans’ cheeks, his fingers only barely brushing the soft skin, which forced a trembling smile upon Hans’ lips.

“You’ll be alright. Just… trust me, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The other boy nodded slowly, eyes now fixed on Henry and one hand tangled in his tattered shirt, as if to make sure Henry wouldn’t just run away and leave him behind. The thought alone was enough to make something in Henry revolt, an overwhelming sense of wrongness momentarily blinding him. Leaving the other boy behind was… unthinkable.

“How bad does your foot hurt?” he asked, nodding towards Hans’ swollen ankle and praying to the Lord that none of his emotions were too evident in his tone. Henry didn’t want to scare him any further, especially not with feelings he didn’t fully understand himself.

At the question, Hans turned his eyes momentarily away from him, worrying his lower lip with his teeth in what Henry guessed was nervousness.

“Badly,” Hans answered after a moment of silence, his voice small. “I- I can’t walk. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, that’s okay,” Henry said quickly, giving the other boy another soft squeeze. “I’ll just carry you, don’t worry. Have you ever done piggy-back?” Hans shook his head slowly at that question. “I’ll show you then. But first, do you want something for the pain? I was getting some painkiller brew for my mother, so I have a few phials with me.”

A sceptical look was on Hans’ face as he eyed the small clay bottles Henry held out to him for inspection. But after a moment he took one from Henry’s hands and tipped it into his mouth with a look of disgust on his face, gulping the whole thing down in one go. The expression on his face made Henry snort – so similar to how his own face must look whenever his Ma forced one of those horrible concoctions upon him.

“Ready to try piggy-back?” Once Hans nodded in response, Henry took both of the other boys’ hands and wrapped them around his neck from behind. “Hold on tight!”

With that he took a hold of Hans’ thighs and pushed to stand, wobbling only for a second under the added weight of another person. But thankfully Hans was smaller and lighter than himself. He was also holding onto Henry for dear life, tense and probably scared Henry might drop him.

“I’ve got you, don’t worry,” Henry said softly, and rubbed his thumbs over Hans’ thighs where he held onto him. All too slowly the other boy relaxed on his back, eventually laying his head on Henry’s neck and taking a deep breath. “Think you can grab that torch for me? We will need the light.”

Once the torch was securely held in Hans’ hand, Henry walked them back onto the road. Hans was a comforting weight on his back, and the smell of blackberries that seemed to emit from him turned sweeter with every step they took towards Skalitz. That bitterness of fear was slowly overshadowed by the ripeness of hope and trust, and Henry wanted to bury himself in that scent for the rest of his life. Hans should never again have to be afraid.

“Henry?” The quiet word carried through the silence of the night like a promise whispered under the watchful eyes of the stars. “Thank you. I- I think I was supposed to die out there tonight.”

Something about that wording, about the use of ‘supposed’, caught Henry off guard. But it was said so earnestly and filled with so much vulnerability that he didn’t dare ask about it right that second.

“You have nothing to thank me for, Honza,” he whispered in response. “I bet anyone would have done what I did.”

There came no more answer from Hans, his face once again pressed into Henry’s neck, but Henry got the feeling the other boy didn’t quite believe him. Blackberries smelled stale with sadness and the underlying pain of loneliness. And so Henry did the one thing he could offer as comfort as he kept walking down the road to Skalitz.