#oathisanoath

Hans was going to be mad once he figured out where Henry was actually going off to for a few days. He hadn't been happy when he originally left to go accept the duel with Erik so Henry couldn't bring himself to tell him he was chasing after a lead about the whereabouts of the man. The last loose end he had that needed tied up.

The closer he got and the more he thought about it, maybe everyone was right. He could've just dropped it. What was his beef with Erik anyway, just that he was associated with Istvan? He'd threatened Hans too though and it was his duty to protect him..

"...Sir?" Henry rouses. Before him, a whole bundle of flowers sits dizzyingly fragrant. Alas, even their hypnotic scent, unfortunately, could do little to pale the presence of this man at his back. It's hardly for the musk of him, however, what with those ominously earthy scents like smoke and war, but the breadth of his shadow is threatening before him. Peering up, Erik would seem the part of a lumbering goliath.

And honestly, when did goliaths last like flowers?

___

Priesthood brought about a lot of restrictions, and with them, its lot of suffering. Among which were no handling of weapons, no handling of lovers, and theoretically, no handling of politics. That last part, of course, was absurdly wrong. What was the Church but politics? Ashen had never witnessed such different games at hand before, even when he handled the lands of the King. As a 'neutral' agent, he could now get anywhere; in-between battles, warring lands and closed frontiers.

He was needed anywhere a battle could be on the verge of happening. Always dressed rather curiously, with a kettle hat and cuirass worn over his cassock - he had little trust for stray hits not to happen, or for the good will of men in their father confessors. Either way, he had to be there, no matter the winning or losing side that day. Many men would breathe their last confessions to his ear - and they alone would see the end of war.

Probably.

Or Erik should have ended it sooner. Either way, he would never admit out loud to enjoying that little scuffle between his Erik and Lord Capon, but truly, watching the boy get thrown around like a particularly unruly sack of hay had been one of the best things he'd seen for a long while. Even if the vantage point hadn't been perfect, it had been good enough. Good enough to see the fight,

Good enough to see the kiss.

What happened after that he couldn't say, the kiss had him turning from the banister he'd been leaning against, removing himself from the sight and the thought of it. He had better things to do than watch--

Whatever the hell that was. Erik could always be a little unpredictable in a fight but he hadn't been anticipating that.

By the time that Erik - his Erik - finds him in their shared room Istvan has long since sat aside his chaperon, book and paper and wine carefully set out on the table. He doesn't need to look to know the sound of the larger mans footsteps, the sound of his armor, so his attention remains perfectly pointed elsewhere.

" Have you finished with him, dear-- "

@oathisanoath Kisses Istvan while still having @pawnedprince blood on his lips.

Blood. Heavy, metallic near cloying in it's taste.

Concern floods through him, but when he looks the younger man over for any sort of injury that would cause a bleed like that and finds none? A grin stretches slow across his newly bloodied lips, tongue darting out just a moment before a gloved hand lifts to wipe that dark red away.