Henry's last relationship will always be Bianca — and this applies across all verses (with the exception of modern where Theresa is Henry's last partner). Be it a couple months or decades after the sacking of Skalitz, Henry, often journeying, often so adamantly taking to duty, to service, finds himself not again swept up in a lively romance. His reasoning is simple: often about, blazing on horseback and seldom home for long, he makes a devastatingly poor husband. Younger, he, too, longs very much to see the world, more preoccupied with experiencing all of the flavors and joys he can while his summers and youth are still about him. As he gets older, it's more so for how embroiled he is in war, himself more weathered, hardened, and his circumstances presenting him as a poor match of an opinion for any young woman. That isn't to say, however, that Henry never took lovers; on the contrary, he had, and to anyone's standards, rather healthily. However, these dalliances had never budded further than one impassioned night, perhaps several, and the women he visited had time and time again stated he was for fun, nothing more. Henry, who hadn't intentions to pursue further for a majority of these encounters, took these boundaries well despite being a man who fell easily, and though he would continue to humor small moonlit, two-boats-in-the-night sort of infatuations, did not quite fall into soul-claiming, heart-rending love. This does not particularly trouble the knightling; in all chapters of his life, he is content enough to be without a lover so long as he's yet love in him and around him (joys,comfort stability, etc.). In saying that...
For all romances with women: If your character is a woman, Henry, again, would not have courted anyone before her since Skalitz' razing. He is clumsy at times, perhaps overeager, but he is sincere and, if out of his depth, makes up for it twice-over in enthusiasm. He is still, however, a servant to greater men, something he fears may work at the confidence of his lady-love, a fear he tries to remedy with frequent letters and a good home and honest love. He will always come back after such long journeys away with a fire at his heels, ecstatic to sweep them up into his arms, to make up for lost time, and to melt her ache and yearning that he, too, feels in his own heart. He wants very badly to marry, to at least settle together, and grows all poppy and boyish to the idea — chivalrous love! He dreams of it! — and dotes on her feverishly. He is utterly shameless with public affection if she is a peasant as he is, but if she is high born, he is met with constant teasing (either harmless or not [which will always make Henry cautious]) for his protectiveness and unwillingness to let another stand by and guard her side.
For all romances with men: If your character is a man, they will be Henry's first romance since Bianca — and Henry's first anything with a man. Henry is more careful, infinitely more careful, regardless of the verse. In 15th century Bohemia, however, it goes without saying that it is a matter of survival and the far better part of wisdom to bottle up his affections and attractions. He will not pursue a man unless there is ample evidence of fondness and far, far too many instances that lean just right of plausible deniability. He may, in fact, only wait to make his desire known on the eve of great battle or world-spinning, tongue loosening drunkenness. Up to this point, Henry had always believed himself strictly heterosexual, but their growing closeness is unearthing very, very deep, buried wonderings he only humored in passing. He is inexperienced, gobsmacked, but ever a romantic, still sincere and devastatingly about them, enough so as to risk ruining a perfectly good friendship and sense of camaraderie forever. Marriage is likely not in the cards, not before the church, but before God with whom he believes would want them to love, love so long as it is kind and good, he can officiate (in a way) for them in the woods or somewhere otherwise secret.
Romance is always enjoyed by Henry who has so much love in him, it's nigh on criminal to stem it all — and not that he ever intends to stem it in any measure. That said, however, Henry is, for the most part, rather content with his life and though he warms to the thought of a sweetheart, is perfectly happy remaining single to bound and explore and travel to wherever his greedy heart desires. His life is made kinder with love, but it is not what completes him; rather, it is more something that compels him, helps him to grow, as opposed to filling out his empties and hollows.
