As far as his stay at Trosky Castle was concerned, so far, it left a lot to be desired for Lord Capon. His accommodation was fine and the food exquisite but the company, well...the less said about them the better.
None were more irritating than the Chamberlain. Or so he'd first thought.
Hans enjoyed the outdoors and frequently took a walk through the grounds, always needing to pass the combat arena to experience the view from the battlements. Which meant passing von Bergow's handsome and utterly charming bodyguard.
He'd thought nothing of Black Bartosch to begin with, yet more often than not, Henry could be found in his presence, either leaning against the arena laughing or practicing swordplay. Hans watched them carefully, noticing their steps, how they moved together until it became uncomfortable for him to watch.
The noble didn't understand what was so funny but he must be a master comedian the way Henry behaved. And he'd had enough. One morning, whilst on his walk back to the castle, Henry was there yet again and Bartosch was speaking closely to him. Hans was moving towards them before he knew what was happening.
"I notice you haven't offered me combat training," was what came out of his mouth when he stopped in front of them. Bartosch and Henry exchanged a glance, smiling awkwardly.
"You are well trained, Lord Capon, are you not?" Bartosch answered diplomatically, indicating Henry, "I was showing Sir Otto's guest a kindness."
"I bet you were," Hans looked to Henry who shrugged sympathetically. Still, the young lord drew his sword and hopped into the arena, "I wish to see what all the fuss is about. If you care to indulge me."
Bartosch nodded rather eagerly, gracefully entering the arena and drawing his weapon, "very well, sir. I accept."
Henry took a seat at the nearest bench; something told him he was going to need it.
"You were asking for that," Henry was saying softly as he cleaned Hans' bloodied nose, pouring more spirits onto his cloth, "you wanna tell me what that was about?"
Hans winced as Henry mercilessly shoved the cloth onto his nose, getting his teeth, "I just don't know what you see in him."
"What?" Henry asked, trying not to grin as Hans struggled to find the right words.
"You don't laugh at my jokes like you do his," Hans said with a pout. Henry did smile, then, fondly.
"Your jokes aren't funny."
Hans let out an incredulous laugh, grabbing Henry's wrist and lowering his hand away from his face, "'what bird regales you with stories of adventure, romance and knights? A bard owl!"
Henry chuckled politely, rolling his eyes tiredly, "your jokes are terrible. And that's not what I meant, anyway."
"Enlighten me," Hans folded his arms, raising an eyebrow expectantly, "I'm waiting"
"I'm..." Henry stood slowly, pausing a great while before finishing with a smirk, "enjoying myself."
Hans nodded slowly, drumming his fingers on the edge of his bed, "you can enjoy yourself with me. I never thanked you properly for saving my life."
"That's not..." he was silenced by Hans pulling him into lap, their lips colliding roughly; the noble's cry of pain when their noses connected was muffled by the blacksmith's mouth. Henry pulled away, biting back a smile as he reached for a cloth to stop the fresh flow of blood, "I need to get you jealous more often."
"Shut up," Hans hissed, uncaring of the oozing blood as he eagerly reconnected their mouths.
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