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Carried by the breeze, Henry allowed himself a moment to enjoy the warm air of the late morning, closing his eyes, inhaling deep. The scent of woods that had been covered in dew a few hours earlier filled his nose. A long exhale and his eyes were looking ahead again, narrowing down on his destination. The lone tree house was camouflaged enough from outsiders, but he knew it all too well to have to search for it for more than a moment.
A few flaps of his wings adjusted his course, then he let himself soar until he reached the small terrace that partially doubled as the roof of their shelter. Theirs—Hans’s and his. Sometimes he could barely believe it himself. How far life had carried them both, together, to the point they could enjoy this little nest of theirs in peace, if only for a few hours, sometimes by sheer luck a few days at a time. It didn’t matter. As long as they had each other, they'd take on life as it comes. As one.
Henry shifted his weight, bringing his feet below himself—a more bipedal position to prepare for his landing. The sole of his shoes made contact. His wings instinctively gave a couple more beats, ensuring a safe and soft landing. Motions a soldier like him had practiced countless times. How far he had grown since his first attempts at such endeavors under Sir Bernard’s guidance, who had been half amused, half despaired at his pupil trying to maintain an illusion of grace while getting used to aerial maneuvers in armor. Surely this was not what had made his lover interested in him in the first place, for Henry had landed like a set of cauldrons more than once.
“You’re back!” Speaking of the angel, a blond head didn’t wait to appear through the trapdoor connecting the rooftop to the inside of their shelter. “No trouble on the way, my knight with shining wings?”
Henry felt his cheeks heat up a little. “None, my lord!” He made his gray feathers twitch briefly as one often does after a flight—and possibly to show them off a little.
“Come on, don’t keep me waiting, Henry! Did you find it?”
“I did! It was the last from the apothecary. Lucky for us, I reached town just in time.”
He folded his wings at his back and nudged Hans back inside, following. Leaving the trapdoor open for now, he descended the steps and went straight for the chest in the corner. He kneeled, opened it, quickly made some room among the dried herbs, various materials and sketches collected over the years, and placed a vial of oil among them, straight from his pocket.
Hans, who had grabbed a bucket and the rest of the necessities, appeared again above his shoulder.
“What are you hiding in there, blacksmith boy?”
Henry closed the lid in a swift movement. “None of your concern.”
Hans saw immediately through the falsely innocent tone. He pressed against his lover’s shoulder and wings. “Are you certain?”, a coaxing inflection in his voice.
A pause.
“For now,” he conceded. “I’m sure we’ll find some use for it later.”
Hans’s eyebrows moved to his hairline, inquiring at first, then betraying amusement.
They settled on the roof. Hans took a seat on the chair they had brought up there, chest facing the back of the seat, his arms resting on top. He extended one wing to the side as Henry adjusted the stool he had grabbed inside besides him.
“Let me know if you want to lay down at some point.” He settled the small flask he had gone to town for beside the bucket of water and grabbed a wet cloth instead.
Hans hummed in thanks, face facing forward as he adjusted slightly. Cleaning his wings might take a while, might as well be comfortable.
Henry grabbed the tip of his wing between delicate fingers. He helped his lover extend it slightly more and examined each part, registering mentally the task ahead. A quick cleaning, a few old feathers to help get rid of, some new ones to set free from their keratin shell, and the usual oiling. This wing had gotten out of their last skirmish intact; it would be easy work. Satisfied with his inspection, he let go of the tip and got to work.
“You can relax, my lord, your personal groom will take care of everything,” he jested.
“Personal? I sure hope so! Or do you have another lord to attend to that I don’t know of?” Hans faked indignity. “I can’t have my page go around taking care of others! What would people think?” A cold wet cloth slapped his lower back, and he let out a yelp.
“Am I back to being your page now? What happened to my hard-earned promotion?” Despite the scandalized tone, Henry’s movements remained tender as he went through each section, wiping the dust and other small debris from the feathers.
“Well, you can already brag about being my castellan now! I’m the only one who can keep your ego in check at this point!” Hans laughed, then added in a more reserved tone: “And you have taken care of others before…” He diverted his eyes, looking away from his lover.
Henry couldn’t help but roll his eyes with fondness. “We talked about this before, I didn’t do it for courtship! And I wasn’t the only one! It took three of us to clean Kubyenka’s wings after he landed in the ash dump!”
“And it had to be you?”
“Well, it certainly wasn’t going to be Žižka or the Devil, they were hammered too and had gone somewhere outside of the Den… And I couldn’t let Janosh and Adder do all the work while sitting empty-handed!”
“Forever the good Samaritan, you are… Look at you, even your Pebbles has turned into your white steed now!”
They let the comment rest in the air for an instant before starting to laugh. Neither of them could resist the temptation of verbal jousts. Those were comfortable now, but were hard-earned. The result of years spent together, figuring out their respective places in the world—and where they could belong to each other.
Their laughter became softer.
“…Hans?”
A hesitation. “Yes?”
“Speaking of turning white, I’m afraid your feathers are.”
A shocked yelp. “They already are, you dolt!”
A punishing flap of the wing to his carer was followed by echoing laughter.
Henry moved the stool back inside and his set of tools on the other side of his patient. Hans had laid down, happy to change positions; taking care of this wing would surely take a bit more time after all. He settled next to him, kneeling close, bending over to inspect the damaged area.
They had both gotten in a skirmish a few weeks back, while across the forest, riding back to Rattay. Taking advantage of the sunset, bandits had jumped on their path and behind them, surrounding their horses. As one they decided to take care of the rabble—how dare they rob in the lord of Leipa’s lands, how dare they attack his lord? A few exchanges between blades made it indisputable that the pair had the upper hand in both skills and experience, yet the outlaws had the advantage of numbers. However, the knights, forged by their countless battles, had taken them all out, killed in the heat of battle or too wounded to be threats any longer. It was only when the dust settled and adrenaline subsided that they noticed the gnarly gash near the base of Hans’s wing. Even keeping wings as close as possible to one’s back—the safest strategy if you already had the upper hand with weapons— wasn’t infallible.
Henry lingered on the weeks-old cut, brushing some feathers away with his fingertips. Hans’s eyes followed as best as he could.
“I was lucky you were there. Who knows what would have happened to me otherwise?”
Henry let out a soft snort. “You’re selling yourself short. It could have happened to anyone. That’s why I travel with you, it’s my duty. And my honor.”
He leaned further over to catch the corner of his lover’s lips with his. A touch before returning to the task at hand. He started to inspect each feather individually, pondering which were good enough to keep, which to pull out now or later.
“Yet you keep on traveling alone and coming back in one piece.” A soft smile was on Hans’s face.
“I’ll admit to having a good guardian angel.” Henry’s crow’s feet became apparent. “But that’s not all. It’s experience reading the environment, knowing when to go off the path. And Pebbles and Morgen keep me safe, too.”
Like Mutt did back in the day, he finished to himself. A knowing hand came to brush his, comforting. They both missed Mutt. Hans had grown so fond of him over the years that he took him as a companion when he had become too old to run alongside Henry and Pebbles. He enjoyed his later years in warmth and peace, feasting on leftovers. It was now Morgen, a young hound who accompanied Henry on his journeys. A gift from Hans, named after a sorceress from French tales, many mistaken her for a she-wolf from afar.
“But no one is invincible…” he added.
Hans simply nodded in solemn agreement. Many of their fellow soldiers, of their own friends, had seen their hour come. A hard lesson learned; such was the law of war and of their times. Both of them had felt powerless more than once, seeing life give way to eternity, light leaving eyes, bodies turning to stone. But acceptance was a mark of seasoned warriors, hardened by the experiences. One cannot get used to it, but accept that it was going to happen. Death will come for them all, it is but a matter of time and manner. Both had had narrow escapes from the clutches of Death already.
“Still, I’m grateful for your guardian angel. Perhaps Our Lady is watching over you after all,” Hans said, “I make sure to keep you in my prayers.”
Henry’s lips came to brush his spine. “And I am grateful we made it out this time as well.” I’d rather die as your bodyguard than have to suffer a day without you.
“Thanks to you, once again.”
“You’ve pulled me out of the mud more often than you realize, Hans.”
Henry was finishing applying the preening oil—the very one he had to go fetch in town a few hours earlier. He was going over each feather, also making sure they were properly positioned. The more orderly the feathers, the better the flight. Taking diligent care of one’s wings was important, but especially for a knight. While wings were kept close to the back during most of the fighting, they could be used at an opportune moment to turn the tide, as a distraction or to outmaneuver the enemy.
“So… What do you think, Henry?”
His eyebrows went up.
“The wound, I mean.” Hans swallowed. “Do you think I’m ready to fly again? My wings are itching.”
Henry took his time. “It’s healing up nicely. The cut has closed at last, the feathers are growing again,” he analyzed. “And most importantly, there’s no longer a hole, you have full coverage now.”
“Ah! Brilliant!” he rejoiced.
“Hold your horses, Hans. We still have to check if your muscles are strong enough.”
“But they are, my muscles aren’t going to disappear in a few weeks!”
“They aren’t. However, we need to make sure you can still flap properly, even with the healing cut, and that you won’t reopen it.”
A defeated sigh came from below as Hans flattened on the roof again. “Fine, Sir Sawbones. You’re the healer.”
As the sun began to lower in the sky, the lord and his knight were on the roof again, the warm breeze of the early evening gentle enough to not disturb their examination.
“How are you feeling?”
Hans gave a few more slow flaps, as per his carer’s instructions.
“So far, so good.” His wings came to a rest. “It does itch a little around the wound, though.”
Henry hummed.
“It’s not unexpected, the skin and muscles haven’t been stretched that way for a while.” He got up, heading to the trapdoor. “Nothing a decoction can’t solve!” A lifted finger punctuated his statement as he disappeared back inside.
When Henry reappeared, it was with a brew in his hands. A painkiller one, Hans had trained to recognize over time. He had learned not to mind the midnight noises emanating from any nearby alchemy bench, wherever they were staying—at least as long as his lover would eventually join him in bed.
“This should do the trick!” Henry popped the vial open.
Hans turned his back to him, wings lowered but spread to ease the access. Henry got to the task, applying the mixture with practiced gestures. He couldn’t see it, but the lord realized it was more paste than liquid in substance. His companion really did have every potion one could dream of and more at the ready.
“Now, give it a try again,” Henry said, satisfaction in his voice. “Give it more amplitude each time, but keep it slow.”
Hans complied without flinching as the other stared. He wondered if Henry would ever realize what that icy gaze did to him.
The assessment of Hans’s capacities continued for a while despite his protests. Henry wouldn’t have him cut corners, even under the temptation of an early retreat to bed, no matter what looks his lover gave him. He wouldn’t, couldn’t leave a blind spot in his inspection lest Hans plummet in his next attempt to take off.
“I’m telling you, Henry, I feel like a brand-new man!”
“All the decoctions I’ve given you helped,”Henry remarked, fond annoyance in his voice, “but we won’t know for certain until you try to carry your full body weight—and it’ll be a while longer until you can fly in full plate armor again!”
“Even more reason to try it as soon as possible! Audentes—”
“Fortuna Iuvat, I know. Fortuna won’t save you if you don’t have the necessary strength, though. I will.”
Hans raised his hands. “And are you certain it isn’t Fortuna that’s guiding you?” His rhetoric was met by an elongated sigh.
“Look, Hans. I… I know you want to fly again as soon as possible, I do, but I can’t let you if I’m—if we are not certain.” He hid his gaze behind his hand, as if trying to block the vision of Hans crashing away from his mind.
Hans let his arms back down then closed the distance between them, catching his lover between arms and wings. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just that I… I can’t wait to be back up again.” He swallowed, hesitant. “It’s stupid but… I feel uncomfortable on the ground.”
“…trapped?”
“…yes, trapped.”
Broad arms squeezed around Hans, a firm and comforting presence, minding to avoid the healing wound.
“Alright, just a few more exercises.”
“Then I’ll fly tomorrow?”
“We’ll see.”
“Even if I tempt you to use that oil you hid away in the chest tonight?”
Henry snorted. “We’re not doing anything crazy to your arse tonight.”
“…who talked about my arse?” A devilish smile appeared on his face, one he knew Henry couldn’t resist.
“There, that’ll do,” Henry declared.
They had come to a nearby hill, mounting their horses at dawn, as Hans had insisted despite last night’s... occupations. Well, contrary to their habits, it wasn’t him who had to mind his buttocks for a few more hours, and their large grins left no doubt it would happen again, one way or the other.
This spot overlooked the area, offering a decent slope. Perfect for Hans’s first attempt in a while, as it would provide him a quick start without straining his wings too much, and enough distance to roll downhill should he not manage to stay airborne. Henry had also checked what came further: the nearby shallow branch of the river would make for an adequate crashing area should Hans grow bolder than reasonable.
Lord and castellan dismounted. As Henry went to tether Caballus and Pebbles to a nearby tree, Hans got closer to the slope.
“Come on Henry, I can hardly wait!”
“You two be good, eh? It might take a while.” Henry cracked a carrot, offering a half to each horse. “I’ll make sure your rider comes back in one piece,” he whispered to the chestnut stallion, then turned to Morgen. “Good girl, watch our backs!”
He loped to the edge of the hill until he stood next to his lover. Putting a hand on his shoulder, he pointed to a nearby old beech.
“That’s the only trap around here. If you feel yourself drifting to the right, better hit the ground than that trunk.”
“Thank you, guardian mine,” the mocking tone betrayed by Hans’s upturned lips, “I assure you you are not getting rid of me that easily.”
“I shall hunt down our dinner in the meantime then.” Henry planted a kiss on his cheek and turned about.
He had barely taken a stride when a wall of white feathers came blocking his way, and his snickering was rewarded by a soft strike of a wing.
“Now now, we can hunt together afterwards,” Hans pointed out. “Your mission remains the same for now.”
“Taking care of your noble arse?”
“Well, it is what you’re best at.”
Henry could feel his cheeks warming up and a look to his left assured him it wasn’t only him. He shook the mental image out of his head—there would be plenty of time for that later.
After a last estimation of the wind, they treaded downhill until they reached the middle. Henry took a few more steps, secured his footing and nodded to his lord. Hans took one last deep breath and set forth. A couple of strides, spreading his wings, he pushed against the ground and into the air. Henry swallowed, bracing.
Barely a beat later, white feathers caught the wind. Hans was lifted up, beaming at Henry as he soared by him.
A broad smile spreading on his face, Hans gave a few tentative beats.
“Only soaring for now!” Henry shouted after him, his lord’s contagious grin spreading to his own lips.
Doubt crossed his mind for a moment as his lover’s wings flapped more, but eventually Hans descended, extending his legs first and forward. He didn’t stop at once but ran a few strides as his feet made contact to minimize the stress on the body and the wings. While it was far from his most graceful landing, it was secure enough, and Henry could feel tension leaving his body. Hans would be safe as long as he didn’t attempt any expert maneuver for a few more weeks.
He picked up the pace, carefully running down to join him.
After an hour or so of trials—and a cold sweat for them both as Hans almost landed in the nearby river after what should have been a sharper turn—Hans felt confident enough to fly for longer. He took off once more as Henry signaled him he was ready, riding Pebbles and holding Caballus’s reins in his off-hand. Flying back to their nest that was but a few miles away would be an appropriate challenge for the time being, and Hans to maintain his physical condition for flight.
Hans, as promised, started to fly at low altitude, soaring close by while Henry guided both horses to the path, clicking his tongue to ask for a trot. He settled Caballus by his side, his head next to the saddle. Nothing difficult for the stallion, who had gotten used to following like a packhorse over the years. Henry gave him one last look before he turned his attention upwards.
Here was his lover, white wings stretched, the feathers capturing bright tones in the daylight. The tender spot underneath the wound looked healed from this point of view. Hans’s attention was focused ahead, giving periodic wing beats to maintain altitude, and Henry was relishing in the occasion to admire him unobserved.
They continued like that for a while, the horses eventually extending the trot to keep up with Hans. Noticing that, he picked up the pace even more.
“Well, are you tired, blacksmith boy? Or is it your arse that’s slowing the horses down?” he taunted.
“Just you wait,” Henry muttered to himself.
He asked Pebbles for a canter, Caballus and Morgen following in tow. He could hear laughing from above and caught the shadow moving even further ahead from the corner of his eye. He didn’t let himself get distracted, though, for his goal wasn’t a race. He signaled for the stallion to move closer. Cantering allowed Henry more stability as he leaned to the side, securing Caballus’s reins in a knot over his neck. He let the stallion go—herding instinct and training would ensure he followed along, guided or not. He secured Pebbles’s reins in the same way.
One last look at his handiwork and he removed his feet from the stirrups, before also securing them. He swung his legs back and forth a few times, then put his hands on the pommel, and propelled himself up. His feet flat on the seat, he stretched his wings, stabilizing himself. Now was the delicate moment. Henry pushed on his legs to straighten halfway, slowly. He adjusted his wings. Soon he felt the beginning of a lift and he beat his wings with force as he thrust up.
He could feel his wings pushing on the air. A few more flaps and he was stabilized behind Pebbles’s croup. He leaned forward, legs extending backwards, finalizing his takeoff straight from horseback. He heard an impressed whistling.
“My, my, if only Sir Bernard could see you!”
Henry flapped with vigor to reach the same altitude and began to catch up. Their horses, used to this sort of stunt, cantered in tow, ears pointing forward and tails held high, while young Morgen was all too happy to run along.
“In his defense, it did take me a while to get used to aerial combat!”
“We all did, Henry! It’s just that most of the knights begin training at a young age, so they don’t remember their own struggles.” A pause. “You’d put most of them to shame now. That’s no small feat.”
“Considering my upbringing?” Henry teased.
Hans gave him a playful beat of wings as the other caught up to him. “You know what I mean.”
His only answer was a radiant smile—the same one which, no doubt, had made wenches and noblewomen swoon wherever Henry went. Perhaps even made a few knights blush under their helmets as well. It certainly had worked on his lord, who couldn’t help but mirror him.
They flew above the beaten path, picking up the pace while keeping an eye on their steeds. Caballus and Pebbles were galloping side by side. One snorted when the other would get ahead and they swerved to avoid branches and pick their path, with the occasional playful buck.
Henry and Hans left the friendly race to their mounts, preferring to fly in close quarters. Hans in particular was fond of flying above the tree line, where one could scout the whole forest at a glance. His lover rose to join him. On this late morning, they were all alone above this forest, enjoying the breeze and each other’s company. Like a couple of ravens, mated for life.