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Chapter Text

The morning in Rattay promised to be ordinary. Too ordinary, for a day of departure. 

The town was waking without hurry. Someone opened the stable doors, and the hinges squeaked as they always did, long and accusing. Metal struck metal-someone had missed the clasp. Laughter echoed across the courtyard, too loud for that hour, quickly silenced by a short curse. Ordinary sounds. Familiar. Safe. 

The air was still cool, clean, free from the scent of the day. No smoke, no sweat, no horse dung yet. That would come later, along with movement, shouting, and the matters that demanded attention. 

Radzig stood by the railing and watched the sun climb over the walls. Slowly. Cautiously. As if it wasn’t even sure it should show itself here. The light slid across the stone, over the cracks and traces of old fires, over walls that remembered more blood than anyone would want to. 

He liked the dawn. It was the only time of day when the world demanded nothing of him. 

“You look like you’re counting stones,” someone said beside him. 

Radzig didn’t even turn. He knew that voice too well. 

Sir Hanush stepped up next to him, holding a cup. He looked tired. Truly tired, not the theatrical exhaustion Hans sometimes put on after a night in the tavern. Dark circles under his eyes, stiff shoulders, the weight in the way he leaned on the railing. 

He took a sip and grimaced. 

“If they don’t leave before noon, the road to Trosky will wear them down,” he muttered. “Hans has been ready since dawn. Like never before.” 

He hesitated for a moment. 

“And Henry? Why is he still sleeping, Radzig?” 

Radzig frowned. 

“He’s tired, but the boy knows his duties.” 

He said it calmly, confidently. As if he believed it himself without question. He looked away, as if looking at Hanush was unnecessary right now. 

He knew his duties all too well. 

As if to confirm those words, Hans Capon appeared in the courtyard. 

“The horses are saddled, the provisions packed, and here I stand like an idiot,” he announced without preamble. “He’s still asleep? He should’ve been up an hour ago.” 

“Give him a moment,” Radzig replied, calm but firm. “He’s had hard days, Sir Hans.” 

He sighed, as if explaining something obvious. Something that didn’t need breaking down. 

Hans snorted a laugh. 

“I’ll wake him up. Properly.” 

“Hans-” Hanush raised an eyebrow. “Don’t make a scene first thing in the morning, for heaven’s sake-” 

“I’ll just shout,” the young man said, waving a hand. “Nothing will happen to him.” 

And he strode toward the stairs, light, confident, almost amused. 

Radzig watched him longer than necessary. 

There was something nervous in that hurry. As if Hans didn’t just want to leave on the road, but to tear himself away from here, from the walls, from the silence, from a place that remembered too much. 

The conversation with Hanush turned to supplies, guards, letters to be sent. Ordinary matters. Ones that give the illusion the world still holds order, that a few decisions are enough to keep chaos in line. 

A scream cut through the air suddenly. 

It wasn’t a shout of anger or a joking call. It was a shriek-sharp, uncontrolled, echoing across the courtyard like a bell. 

“HENRY! GET…!” 

It stopped abruptly. 

Radzig felt something clutch his throat. 

A sound came from above that didn’t fit anything he knew. Thin. Breaking. Filled with fear. 

Crying. 

Of someone not yet a man. 

Of a child. 

Radzig moved first. Hanush was right behind him. The stairs felt longer, the corridor narrower, as if the castle itself didn’t want to let them pass. 

The door to the chamber was open. 

Hans stood in the doorway, frozen. Pale, his hand still raised as if he hadn’t lowered it. His lips trembled, but no words came. 

From the room came the crying. Piercing, panicked, catching air in short, uneven sobs. 

“What have you done?” Hanush whispered. No anger. Just disbelief. 

Radzig stepped inside. 

The bed was rumpled. Empty. 

Only after a moment did he see movement by the wall, in the shadows where the morning light hadn’t yet reached. 

A small figure. Huddled. In oversized clothing, hanging off them like someone else’s skin. The child hugged their knees with tiny arms, as if trying to close themselves in, to vanish. 

At the sound of footsteps, the crying grew louder. 

“I just… I just shouted,” Hans stammered. “As always. He was… he was here. I swear.” 

Radzig didn’t answer. 

He approached slowly. Carefully. Like someone who could shatter from one wrong move. 

The child lifted their head. 

And then Radzig felt something break inside him. 

He knew that face. Knew it too well. He remembered it from years ago, before blood and fire, before decisions that had cost. He remembered it from a time when he still believed everything could be saved. 

The child’s lower lip trembled. 

“Ma…” they choked out through a sob. “Mama!” 

The cry bounced off the walls. 

Hanush crossed himself slowly. 
Hans sank onto a bench, near fainting. 

Radzig knelt. 

When he reached out his hand, the child screamed even louder, retreating to the wall. 

“Henry…” he whispered, as if afraid a louder word would destroy what was left- 

“Mama! I want my mama!” 

Radzig didn’t move for a long moment. 

He knelt on the stone floor, breathing shallowly, as if a louder breath might scare the child away again. The crying didn’t stop, but it became uneven, ragged, as if the little body no longer knew how much air to take. 

“Mama…” it whimpered again, weaker. “Mama…” 

That word hit him harder than any blow. 

Not because it hurt. 

Because it was true. 

Radzig swallowed. His throat was so tight he could barely speak. 

“Shhh…” he tried. His voice came out hoarse, unfamiliar. He stopped immediately, as if he had frightened himself. 

The child flinched, pulled its knees closer to its chest. Tiny fingers clutched at the fabric of the shirt, too big, too heavy, not theirs. 

Radzig withdrew his hand. 

Too fast. 

Too close. 

He understood suddenly, painfully.

This wasn’t Henry who stood with him shoulder to shoulder on the walls. This wasn’t the young man who could lift a sword and stare death in the eye. This was a child. Terrified. Awoken by a scream in an unfamiliar place, without mother, without understanding. 

“Give me a moment,” he said quietly, without turning. “Please.” 

He didn’t even know who he was speaking to. Hanush? Hans? God, who hadn’t listened in a long time? 

He heard someone step back. Then another step. The door creaked lightly and closed, but not completely. The room became quieter. Safer. 

Radzig shifted slightly. Not closer. Just… sideways. So he wouldn’t hang over the child like a shadow. 

He sat on the cold floor. 

He remembered this. 

That’s how you sit with children. Not over them. Beside them. 

“I won’t hurt you,” he said very softly. “I’m not shouting. No one is shouting anymore.” 

The child sniffled. The crying didn’t stop, but it changed into soft, broken sobs. Large eyes looked at him with fear, but also with something else. Hesitation. As if trying to understand whether the man on the floor was a threat, or something they couldn’t name yet. 

Radzig reached out very slowly. 

So slowly he could feel every muscle tighten. 

He paused halfway. 

“May I?” he asked silently, more with the movement of his lips than with words. 

No answer. 

But the child didn’t pull back. 

That was enough. 

His hand was large. Always had been. Bearing the marks of the sword, scars, the tough skin of someone who had held a weapon longer than a hand. He feared his touch would be too heavy. That he might hurt, even unwillingly. 

He touched the fabric of the shirt first. 

A light brush, barely a press. 

The child shivered, but did not scream. 

Radzig held his breath. 

“Good,” he whispered. “Good…” 

He moved his fingers slightly higher. 

Touched the shoulder. 

Warm. Too warm. 

The small body trembled, as if each touch was a new question without an answer. 

“I’m here,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

The child looked at his hand. At his fingers. As if wondering whether this was real, or just a dream that would vanish. 

The crying quieted for a moment. 

“Mama…?” it asked softly. Not like a shout. Like hope. 

Radzig closed his eyes. 

This was the moment. The one he feared most. 

He opened them again. 

“She’s not here,” he said calmly. Too calmly, as if any tremor of voice could shatter this fragile trust. “But… you are not alone.” 

The child drew in a breath. 

The lower lip trembled. 

Radzig didn’t remove his hand. 

He placed it more firmly. Not harder. More firmly. 

“Cold?” he asked, though he knew it wasn’t about cold. 

The child shook its head. Then, after a moment of hesitation, very slowly shifted a few fingers closer. Just that. As if testing the world. 

That was enough to break something inside Radzig. 

The other hand lifted by itself, before he could stop it. He held it in the air. 

“May I…?” he asked again. 

The child didn’t answer. 

But it pressed its forehead to his shoulder. 

Lightly. 

For a second. 

Radzig froze. 

He didn’t breathe. He didn’t move. 

He let the weight rest on him. 

The small hand clutched his sleeve. Tentatively. As if afraid that if it let go, everything would disappear. 

“Quiet…” he whispered. “It’s alright.” 

And then, for the first time from the beginning, the crying truly stopped. 

Only quiet sobbing and trembling remained, slowly fading. 

Radzig placed his hand on the small back. 

He didn’t stroke. He didn’t rock. 

He just was. 

And that, it turned out, was all his son needed right then. 

Radzig remained still for a while longer. 

He felt the tiny body trembling under his hand, the child’s breath catching and settling in turns. Each inhale was short, uncertain, as if the world might fall apart again at any moment. 

The small fingers still clutched his sleeve. 

Not tightly. 

But enough to know that if he moved away, the child would be frightened again. 

“It’s alright,” he repeated quietly. “I won’t hurt you.” 

He didn’t know if the words meant anything. He only knew he had to say them. Silence without voice would be too empty now. 

The child moved uneasily. Cuddled closer, as if only now noticing the cold of the stone floor. Forehead pressed harder against his shoulder, a quiet moan escaping the throat. 

Radzig hesitated. 

Lifting him… it was more than touch. It was crossing a line. A motion that could not be undone. 

He ran his hand down the child’s back, very slowly, carefully. He felt the protruding shoulder blades, the spine too thin, too delicate. 

“It’s cold here,” he said quietly. “The stone is cold.” 

He didn’t look at Hans or Hanush. Didn’t need to. He knew they stood somewhere further away, still, as if afraid one step would shatter this fragile moment. 

Radzig slid one hand under the child’s knees.
 
He paused. 

He waited. 

The child stiffened, but did not pull away. Instead, it pressed its fingers into his sleeve tighter, until the fabric stretched under the small grip. 

It was consent. 

With his other hand, he wrapped around the small back. Not squeezing. Holding as one holds something fragile that might break from a single careless move. 

He lifted slowly. 

The child let out a short, frightened sound, but Radzig stopped immediately. 

“I’m here,” he said. “I’m holding you. You won’t fall.” 

He lifted just slightly higher. Just enough to lift them off the cold floor. 

The child hesitated for a fraction of a second, then… pressed closer to him. 

It wasn’t a sudden embrace. Rather, a slow movement forward, as if the small body was testing whether it could trust him. The head rested on his chest, right where he could feel his own heart. 

Radzig felt a shiver. 

His heart beat fast. Too fast. 

He feared the child would feel it and be frightened again. 

But something else happened. 

The small hand slid along his tunic, finding skin at the neck. Fingers warm. Surprisingly warm. 

“Pa…?” it whispered. Uncertainly. Like a question too frightening to ask. 

Radzig felt breath leave him. 

For a moment, he couldn’t answer. His throat tightened painfully, and the world narrowed to that single word. 

He held the child a little firmer. Not harder. Firmer. 

“I am,” he finally whispered. “I am here.” 

He didn’t say “yes.” 

He didn’t say “it’s me.” 

But the child seemed to understand. 

It breathed more deeply. One long breath, as if finally it had stopped fearing there wouldn’t be enough air. Arms fell, tension left the small body. 

Radzig sat on the bench, holding him close. He arranged him so the head rested on his shoulder, shielding him with his own body. 

“Quiet…” he murmured, more to himself than to the child. “It’s alright. It’s alright.” 

The child sighed, quietly, drawn out. Fingers gripped his tunic, this time more firmly, as if afraid that letting go would change the world again. 

Radzig placed his hand on the back and began to rock very slowly, almost imperceptibly. Not like rocking an infant. More like someone who didn’t quite remember how, but tried because it felt necessary. 

The child closed their eyes. 

The breathing evened out. 

“Don’t let go…” it murmured in sleep, barely audible. 

Radzig leaned his head and rested his cheek on the soft hair. 

“I won’t let go,” he promised. 

And for the first time in a very long while, it was not an empty promise. 

Chapter Text

Radzig couldn’t remember the last time he had sat in one place for so long. 

The bench was hard, cold, but he didn’t move. Not because he couldn’t. Because the child was sleeping. 

Henry lay pressed against his chest, his face buried in the jerkin, as if the smell-skin, steel, something familiar-was the only anchor he still had. He breathed shallowly, unevenly, but without sobbing. Every now and then he twitched in his sleep, quietly, almost imperceptibly. 

Radzig held him with one hand under his back, the other shielding his shoulders. He didn’t rock him anymore. He was afraid the slightest movement would wake him. 

The room was silent. Thick, uncomfortable silence. 

Hans stood by the wall, his back against the cold stone. His arms were crossed, as if trying to stop himself from shaking. He hadn’t spoken a word for several minutes, which was unnatural for him. 

“He…” he finally began, then stopped. “Is he… breathing normally?” 

Radzig nodded. 

“Yes.” 

“And… sleeping?” 

“Yes.” 

Hans swallowed. 

“That’s good,” he said softly. “That’s very good.” 

As if trying to convince himself. 

Hanush paced slowly across the room. He wasn’t wandering aimlessly. He seemed to be counting his steps, measuring the space, like someone searching the walls for answers. He stopped by the window, looked out at the courtyard, then at the bed. At the empty space where a grown man had lain that very morning. 

“I don’t understand this,” he said finally. “And I don’t like that I don’t understand.” 

Radzig didn’t lift his gaze. 

“Neither do I.” 

Hanush let out a heavy sigh. 

“If this is a curse, it doesn’t work like the ones they tell stories about over wine,” he muttered. “No signs. No words. No anger. Just… undoing.” 

Hans whipped his head around. 

“Undoing? What do you mean, undoing?” 

“Like someone took everything that came later from him,” Hanush answered calmly. “Leaving only what was before.” 

Silence fell. 

Henry stirred uneasily. He drew in a sharp breath, his fingers clenching the jerkin. 

Radzig instinctively bent his head closer. 

“I’m here,” he whispered. “Sleep.” 

The child sighed and settled again. 

Hans watched, a mix of fear and something else-a guilt that wouldn’t leave his face. 

“Maybe…” he started uncertainly. “Maybe it’s me? Maybe the scream… I shouldn’t have-” 

“Stop,” Hanush cut him off sharply. “A scream doesn’t turn a man into a child.” 

Hans hung his head. 

“But he was here,” he whispered. “He was a grown man. I swear.” 

“I believe you,” Radzig said without hesitation. 

Hans looked at him, surprised and grateful. 

Hanush leaned against the table. 

“If this place…” he began slowly, “then there had to be something here before. Something that remained. The fields stand on bones like half a kingdom. If that were enough, there’d be more wonders here, more monsters.” 

“And the oath?” Hans asked. “Or a prayer?” 

Hanush shrugged. 

“People swear every day. Pray in despair every day. The world would crack if every one of those moments left a mark.” 

Radzig stayed silent. He listened, but his thoughts were elsewhere-on the small weight in his arms. On the warmth that didn’t belong to that body. On the word that still rang in his mind. 

Father. 

“For now,” he said at last, “I don’t care where it came from.” 

Hanush looked at him carefully. 

“And what do you care about?” 

Radzig looked at the sleeping child. 

“That he feels safe.” 

He said it calmly, without hesitation. As if it were the only thing in the world that mattered right now. 

Hans stepped forward. 

“Can I…?” he hesitated. “Can I do something?” 

Radzig looked up at him. 

“Sit,” he said. “And be quiet.” 

Hans nodded immediately and sank onto the bench against the wall, as if it were the most important task of his life. 

Hanush watched them both for a long moment. 

“I don’t know the cause,” he said finally. “And I don’t know how to reverse it. But I know one thing.” 

Radzig looked at him expectantly. 

“Curses,” Hanush continued, “feed on fear and loneliness. If this is a curse… we must not let him be alone.” 

Radzig nodded. 

“He won’t be.” 

Henry shifted in his sleep, murmuring something unintelligible, and pressed closer against Radzig’s chest. 

Radzig hugged him more firmly. And though he didn’t know the cause, though he didn’t know the end of this path, he knew one thing: 

Whatever haunted his son, it wouldn’t have him without a fight. 

Henry woke suddenly. Not with a scream-this time, no. More like a quiet, sharp intake of breath, as if surfacing from underwater. His body stiffened, fingers gripping Radzig’s jerkin so hard it hurt. 

Radzig leaned closer at once. 

“I’m here,” he said softly. “It’s alright.” 

Henry didn’t respond. His eyes were wide, black with fear. For a moment, he just stared, as if trying to piece the world back together: stone walls, a strange ceiling, faces he didn’t understand. 

His breath quickened. 

“Shhh…” Radzig ran a hand slowly, cautiously, down Henry’s back. “It’s okay now.” 

Henry whimpered softly and pressed himself against him with sudden desperation, as if only now realizing someone was here. His forehead pressed to Radzig’s chest, his arms wrapping around him awkwardly, with childlike strength. 

Radzig felt that familiar, painful pang beneath his ribs. 

“It’s alright,” he repeated. “I’m here.” 

Hans jumped up from the bench. 

“Again?” he whispered. 

Radzig nodded. 

“A nightmare,” he added after a moment. “Or just… being lost.” 

Hanush watched silently from the side, thoughtful. 

Henry shifted restlessly, rubbing his eyes clumsily with his fist, like a child who still didn’t know quite how to do it. His face twisted suddenly, and a quiet, drawn-out sound escaped his throat. 

Radzig froze. 

“What is it?” he asked, more to himself. 

Henry whimpered again, this time louder. He straightened slightly and placed a hand on his stomach. 

“It hurts…” he mumbled indistinctly. 

Hans frowned. 

“He wasn’t wounded.” 

“It’s not that,” Hanush muttered. “Hunger.” 

Radzig looked at him. 

“Hunger?” 

“Children don’t forget to eat when they have things to do,” Hanush said calmly. “If he’s a child… he’s hungry.” 

Radzig felt something wash over him that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Not fear. More like sudden, overwhelming awareness: he didn’t know what to do with a hungry child. 

Henry shifted again, restless. His face twisted into a grimace Radzig knew all too well-the prelude to crying. 

“Quiet,” he said quickly. “It’s alright. We’ll find something in a moment.” 

“I’ll get it,” Hans said immediately. “Bread. Honey. Anything.” 

“Not honey,” Hanush interrupted. “Too sweet. And not hard bread.” 

Hans hesitated. 

“So what then?” 

Hanush shrugged. 

“Warm. Simple. Something that doesn’t need chewing.” 

Radzig listened, but his hands were full. Henry began to whimper quietly, confused. His body squirmed as if nothing was comfortable. 

Radzig rose carefully, still holding him. The child clung tighter, legs winding around his hips instinctively. The gesture almost toppled him-not because he was heavy, but because it was natural. 

“Come,” he said, more to Henry than to the others. “We’ll move.” 

They went to a smaller room next door. It was warmer. Less space. Fewer shadows. 

Radzig sat on a bench and put Henry on his lap. The child fussed, wriggled, rubbing his face against his chest. 

“Quiet,” he repeated. “It’s alright now.” 

Hans returned shortly with a bowl of warm gruel. 

“The cook made something simple,” he said softly. “No spices.” 

Radzig looked at the bowl as if it were a weapon he didn’t know how to use. 

“I…” he began. 

Hanush came closer. 

“Slowly,” he said. “Spoonfuls. Small portions. Don’t rush.” 

Radzig nodded. He scooped the gruel carefully, as if every move could ruin something. He lifted the spoon to Henry’s mouth. 

The child eyed it suspiciously. 

“It’s food,” Radzig said softly. “Warm.” 

Henry sniffed. He grimaced. But after a moment, he opened his mouth. 

The first sip spilled a little down his chin. Radzig froze. 

“Sorry,” he blurted reflexively. 

Hans smiled wryly. 

“He won’t mind.” 

Henry swallowed. His shoulders relaxed slightly. The second spoon went better. By the third, he was eating eagerly, though still clumsily. Radzig wiped his chin with his sleeve, forgetting everything else. 

Only when the bowl was nearly empty did Henry sigh softly and rest his head on Radzig’s shoulder. His body, tense and restless just moments ago, began to soften, as if finally allowing itself to rest. 

“Warm…” he murmured. 

Radzig just looked at the child on his lap, cheek pressed to the jerkin, eyes slowly closing. He felt the weight-small, but significant. Different from the weight of a sword. Different from the responsibility for men. 

Hans spoke first. 

“Well…” he began hesitantly. “And now?” 

Radzig lifted his gaze. 

“Now?” he repeated, as if the word had only just reached him. 

Hanush stepped closer. He looked at Henry carefully, practically, without fear but without underestimating him. 

“Now he’s dirty, sweaty, wearing adult clothes,” he said calmly. “Like any child after stress. If he’s to stay here, he needs a bath and a change.” 

Radzig stiffened. 

A bath. 

The word sounded strangely heavy. 

“He…” he began and stopped. “He never liked cold water.” 

Hanush raised an eyebrow. 

“No child does. That’s why the water cannot be cold.” 

Henry shifted uneasily, as if sensing the change in tone. His hand clenched Radzig’s jerkin. 

“No…” he mumbled in his sleep. “I don’t want…” 

Radzig instinctively hugged him tighter. 

“Quiet,” he said softly. “Nothing will happen to you.” 

Hans cleared his throat. 

“I can have a tub prepared,” he offered quickly. “In the smaller room. It’s warmer there.” 

Radzig nodded. 

“Good.” 

When Hans left, Radzig stood slowly, still holding Henry. The child didn’t wake completely but purred softly, pressing closer, as if instinctively seeking stability. 

The tub was already by the wall when he entered. Steam rose lazily from the water, and the room smelled warm, of soap and wood. 

Radzig knelt by the tub, still holding Henry at face height. 

“It’s just water,” he said softly. “Warm. Nothing will happen to you.” 

Henry looked at the steam rising from the water. Then at Radzig. His lower lip trembled. 

“Father…” he whispered softly. 

“I’m here, you don’t need to be afraid.” 

Undressing was awkward. Large buttons, heavy fabric, Radzig’s hands unused to such carefulness. Henry squirmed, fussed, but didn’t cry. One hand remained gripping Radzig’s sleeve, like an anchor. 

When he finally dipped his feet into the water, he jerked sharply and sucked in a breath. His arms stiffened, fingers clutching the edge of the tub. 

“Warm,” Radzig said calmly. “Only warm.” 

Henry didn’t respond. He tested the water carefully with one foot, then the other. He wrinkled his nose, as if trying to understand this new sensation. 

Radzig didn’t rush. 

Only after a moment did he let him sink lower. The child sat stiffly, back straight, eyes wide. One hand still clutched the jerkin. 

“I’m here,” he repeated softly. 

He took some soap and rubbed his hands together. White foam appeared between his fingers. 

Henry watched. Curiosity came slowly. First, he frowned. Then he leaned forward slightly. He extended a finger and touched the foam cautiously, as if expecting it to run away. 

He paused. Looked at his finger. Then looked up at Radzig and pointed at the white foam. 

“That’s foam,” Radzig said softly. “From soap.” 

Henry dipped his finger again, this time more confidently. He stirred it in the water, making a small circle. The foam spread. 

He wrinkled his nose. 

Radzig smiled faintly. 

“It disappears,” he added. “But it’s needed. Helps you be clean.” 

Henry watched a bit longer, as if memorizing. Then he let Radzig wash his shoulders gently. 

He didn’t protest. 

When he was finally lifted from the water and wrapped in a towel, he shivered and instinctively pressed against Radzig’s chest. The towel was large, smelled of soap and something familiar. 

“Cold,” he murmured softly. 

Radzig hugged him tighter. 

“You’ll be warmer soon.” 

The boy looked up at Radzig with his big blue eyes, then pressed close again.

Chapter Text

Radzig lifted Henry carefully, as if afraid that one sudden movement might startle him-or break something fragile and invisible. The boy was lighter than he had expected. Too light. Too quiet for who he had once been. Radzig’s arms tightened on their own, instinctively, before he had time to think. 

Henry didn’t protest. He rested his cheek against Radzig’s chest, his fingers curling into the leather strap of the jerkin, as if checking whether all of this was real. Whether it would vanish if he let go. 

“Careful,” Hanush murmured from behind, his tone more warning than command. 

Radzig nodded, though Hanush couldn’t see it. He moved forward, down the corridor that suddenly felt longer than usual. The stone walls breathed cold, torches cast trembling light, and the echo of footsteps sounded too loud for something as intimate as carrying one’s own child. 

Henry lifted his head. His eyes were wide, alert, still ready to flee. He looked around carefully, as if every shadow might suddenly move. 

“Shhh…” Radzig whispered, more to himself than to him. “It’s alright.” 

Radzig’s chamber was warm. Immediately. As if the world beyond the door belonged to someone else. It smelled of wood, resin, stone heated by the stove-and something else, something familiar, that Radzig associated with safety. With a home he had never truly had. 

Hanush closed the door behind them. Dully. Finally. 

Henry flinched. 

He froze for a moment in Radzig’s arms, then loosened slightly, as if his body understood on its own that this place was different. Warmth crept under his skin. He wrinkled his nose, drew a deeper breath. 

“Here…” he murmured indistinctly. 

Radzig smiled despite himself. 

“Yes,” he answered. “Here.” 

He went to the bed and laid him down gently, almost ceremonially, as if placing something precious upon an altar. The mattress dipped slightly. The sheets were fresh, rough from washing, still smelling of soap. 

“You’ll be comfortable here,” he said calmly. “You can rest.” 

But Henry didn’t look tired. Quite the opposite. 

He straightened his fingers. Touched the sheets. Ran his hand over the coverlet, as if testing the texture of the world. Rubbed one cheek, then the other. Then suddenly stood up-unsteadily, without warning-as if he’d forgotten that his legs didn’t always obey him yet. 

Radzig reached out instinctively. 

“Careful.” 

But Henry was already standing. He looked at the pillow. Wrinkled his nose. 

“No… sleep,” he whispered briefly, uncertainly. 

He pointed at it. Accusingly. 

It was a very bad pillow. At this exact moment. No question about it. 

Radzig sighed softly. With that single, short breath, more tension left him than he cared to admit. Hans snorted quietly, half under his breath, as if louder laughter would have been improper. 

“He’s got opinions,” he remarked, stepping closer. 

“I see that,” Radzig muttered. 

Henry was already trying to climb down from the bed. One leg dangled dangerously in midair. Radzig caught him just in time. 

“Slowly,” he said, forcing his voice to stay steady. “You’ll fall.” 

Henry looked at him with clear displeasure. Like someone whose very important business had been interrupted. 

“Maybe… you could leave him for a moment?” Hans suggested. “I’ll bring him something to play with.” 

Radzig hesitated. Looked at the boy. At his hands already reaching toward the table. 

“He needs watching,” he said finally. 

“Maybe a blanket,” Hans murmured. “And something he can hold.” 

Henry slipped free of Radzig entirely and toddled across the chamber in small, quick steps. He stopped at the table. Touched its leg. Tapped it. Bent down. 

Radzig crouched just behind him. 

“Careful,” he sighed, and stroked his hair. 

Hans left. 

The chamber filled with silence, broken only by the crackle of the stove and the quiet hum of a child rediscovering the world. 

Henry tested everything. Touched. Knocked. Shifted. He stopped by the stove and tapped it lightly. 

“No,” Radzig said at once. “Hot.” 

Henry looked at him. Then at the stove. Then back at Radzig, his gaze drifting a little lower. 

“Pa?” he asked, pointing at the sword at Radzig’s side. 

Radzig stiffened for a moment. 

“That’s a sword, Henry.” 

The boy touched the hilt. His eyes lit up-genuinely. As if he had suddenly seen something familiar, even if he didn’t remember why. 

“Slash!” he cried suddenly. 

Radzig jumped. 

Hanush raised an eyebrow. 

“Maybe something stayed,” he murmured. “Of who he was.” 

“There…” Henry whispered, interrupting them, pointing at the light streaming through the window. 

Radzig smiled faintly, though his thoughts were tangled. The boy was like a storm-curious about everything, quick, unpredictable. 

“Easy, Hal…” he said, placing his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “We’re staying here.” 

Henry nodded, then slipped away again and moved toward the blanket Hans had laid out near the stove, blocks scattered across it. He grabbed one, held it to his eye like a spyglass, then turned it over in his fingers. 

Radzig and Hans exchanged a look, and Hanush-who had been watching the whole time-smiled faintly to himself. 

Radzig felt his heart beat faster. There was something alive in it, something wild, impossible to control. 

“That boy,” Hanush said quietly, “is already showing his character.” 

Radzig nodded, eyes never leaving him, as the boy stacked one block atop another, smiling. 

They spoke softly, trying to decide what to do next with little Henry, while the boy bent over the blocks, shifting them with his fingers, murmuring something unintelligible. Radzig was drawn into the conversation just as his son was absorbed in his own world. 

“Maybe we should-” Hanush began, but he didn’t finish, because suddenly a loud, drawn-out caw echoed from the window. 

Henry flinched instinctively. His hair bristled, his eyes went huge. He stretched his hands toward the window, fingers trembling, his whole body shaking with fear. 

“Cro… bad!” he cried indistinctly, his voice short, almost babbling, his body quivering like a leaf. 

Radzig rushed to him at once, bending down and pulling him close. 

“I’m here, Hal…” he whispered, holding him tightly. “It won’t hurt you. It’s just a bird.” 

Hans and Hanush looked at each other, then at the window. The bird itself was harmless-perched calmly on the sill, as if nothing were happening. But to Henry, it looked like a monster. 

Radzig rubbed the boy’s back, trying to calm the trembling. 

“I’m here, alright?” he murmured. “It won’t hurt you. Daddy’s right here.” 

After a moment the raven flew off, and Henry still shook lightly, pressing his face into Radzig’s chest, murmuring something unintelligible. Slowly, his breathing steadied, his hands loosened their grip. 

Radzig looked at Hanush and Hans. In his eyes lingered a mix of exhaustion and vigilant care. 

Henry finally pulled back a little, glanced uncertainly toward the blocks, and began to slide them one by one with his fingers, still darting glances at the window as if checking whether the raven might return. 

The men continued their quiet discussion while the child was absorbed in play. 

“Radzig, you’ll really have to take care of your boy,” Hanush said. “This all needs order. I’ll speak to Jobst. I won’t send Hans without Henry.” 

“Uncle, but I can manage-” 

“No discussion, boy. We’re not risking anything happening to you,” he snapped, fixing Hans with an angry look. “You might be useful here. After all, you and Henry were on friendly terms.” 

The boy lifted his head at once, abandoning his blocks for a moment. 

This time Hanush stepped closer and crouched beside him on the blanket. 

“Do you remember Hans? My nephew. He’s your friend, Henry.” 

“Ans?” Henry tilted his head, thinking hard. 

“Yes, Hans. Do you remember him, boy?” 

“Ans, Ans, Ans.” 

And that was the end of the conversation. 

Hanush sighed as he straightened. 

“Maybe he’ll remember… someday… perhaps.” 

Hans didn’t know what to say anymore. He looked like a beaten dog. 

Hanush stood still for another moment, as if weighing a decision he didn’t want to release. His gaze was heavy, focused, and tired of more than just the last few days. He held it on Radzig longer than the conversation required. 

“We’ll leave you for a moment,” he said at last, calm but leaving no room for argument. “We need to discuss a few things. Just outside.” 

Hans nodded almost automatically, though moments earlier he had looked unwilling to move at all. He cast a quick glance at Henry-the boy sat on the blanket, leaning lightly against the stove, a block in his hand, turning it slowly as if examining it from every side. 

“I’ll be back,” Hans murmured quietly, more to himself than anyone else. 

Henry lifted his head. He stopped the block mid-turn and looked at him carefully. 

“Ans…?” he asked uncertainly, drawing out the vowel as if testing whether the word still made sense. 

Hans smiled crookedly. 

“Yes. Ans,” he confirmed, crouching once more. “I’ll be back.” 

He wasn’t sure the boy understood. He wasn’t sure he believed it himself. 

Hanush opened the door first. A brief draft of cooler air swept into the room, along with the sound of footsteps from the corridor-hard, foreign, belonging to a world that had nothing to do with blocks, blankets, and a trembling child. 

The door closed softly. 

With it shut conversation, plans, politics, and war. 

Only the warmth of the stove remained, and a silence that settled almost immediately. 

Radzig stood still for a moment, as if he didn’t quite trust that they were truly alone. He looked at the door, then at Henry. The boy had bent over the blocks again, stacking them with deep concentration, his tongue slightly sticking out at the corner of his mouth. 

Radzig sighed. 

Slowly, he removed his sword and leaned it against the wall, farther from the child. Only then did he kneel by the blanket-not too close, not to startle him, but close enough to reach him. 

“It’s alright,” he said softly. “We’re alone now.” 

Henry didn’t answer. He shifted a block. One toppled. He frowned. 

Radzig watched every movement with an attention that ached beneath his ribs. There was something familiar in the child-not in his features, still soft and young-but in the way he furrowed his brow, in the short, decisive motion of his hand when a block refused to stand as it should. 

“Don’t be angry,” Radzig murmured, more to himself. “Sometimes they don’t listen.” 

Henry looked at him. Long. Carefully. 

“They listen…” he said slowly, as if each word were effort, but he tried to repeat it just as his father had. 

Radzig raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh really?” he asked gently. “Then show me.” 

The boy adjusted the block. Set another on top. The tower held. He smiled triumphantly-wide, unashamed. 

Something inside Radzig broke. Quietly. Without sound. 

“Good,” he said. “Very good, my son.” 

Henry smiled even wider at the praise. 

Radzig sat on the floor, leaning his back against the bed across from him. It was uncomfortable. Cold seeped up from the stone, but he didn’t move an inch. 

“You don’t have to hurry,” he said quietly. “We’re not going anywhere today.” 

Henry hugged a block to his chest. Looked toward the window. Then back at Radzig. 

“Bird… no?” he asked uncertainly, fear lingering in his voice. 

Radzig shook his head. 

“No,” he said calmly. “It’s gone.” 

“Bad…” the boy murmured, but this time without panic. More like stating a fact. 

“Yes,” Radzig admitted after a moment. “Some birds are bad. But not all.” 

Henry narrowed his eyes, considering. Then he shrugged-surprisingly adult-and returned to his blocks. 

Radzig closed his eyes for a moment. 

Only now, in this quiet, did the exhaustion reach him. Not the ordinary kind, from travel or battle. Something deeper. Heavier. The kind that settles into bone and heart at the same time. 

He opened his eyes when he felt a light touch. 

Henry stood before him, holding two blocks in his hands. 

“For… you,” he said, extending them uncertainly. 

Radzig looked at them as if afraid that taking them would change something. As if it were a ritual he didn’t know. Was this how parents played with their children? 

“Thank you,” he said at last, taking them carefully. “They’re beautiful.” 

Henry smiled and rose onto his toes, leaning against Radzig’s knee. 

Radzig wrapped his arms around him instinctively, before he had time to think. The boy was warm, light, smelling of soap and lavender and something else-something familiar Radzig knew but couldn’t name. 

Henry sighed and rested his head against Radzig’s chest. 

He didn’t protest. 

Radzig tightened his arms around the small body. 

“It’s alright,” he whispered. “I’m here.” 

The chamber was quiet. The stove crackled lazily. The world beyond the door could wait. 

For now, they were alone.  

Chapter Text

They remained like that for a long while, locked in each other’s arms, as if time itself - the same time that had been Radzig’s merciless executioner for years - had suddenly forgotten it was supposed to keep moving.

The wooden floor beneath him was hard and cold. The planks pressed into his bones, but Radzig didn’t feel it. All he felt was the weight of a small body against his chest, the uneven rhythm of breathing, and the warmth that seemed to be the only real thing left in this damned world.

At some point he simply buried his face in the child’s hair, squeezing his eyes shut until it hurt. They smelled of soap, smoke, and something else - something vaguely familiar that struck him like a fist to the solar plexus. The scent of the past. The scent of a life he had denied himself.

No one can see me anyway.

The thought was bitter, yet it brought relief. All his life Radzig had been watched - by kings, lords, knights, subjects, enemies. Always judged, weighed, measured. Now, for the first time in a long while, he could allow himself weakness.

And Henry…

If he returned to his adult self, if fate showed even a shred of mercy, he would not remember. Not the tears. Not the trembling voice. Not a father broken in half. The thought was both an excuse and another blow.

He let one tear fall straight onto the dark hair of his son. Then another. And another. They fell heavily, as if each carried a different memory, a different sin.

Henry must have sensed the change, because he stirred restlessly. He twitched, shifted slightly, searching for a more comfortable place, and his small fingers tightened around the red scarf wrapped around Radzig’s neck.

"Pa?" he whispered into his chest, his voice already edged with worry "Don’t… cry." 

Those two words struck Radzig harder than any accusation he had ever heard. As if the child, unaware of everything, had hit the very core of his guilt.

That was when he allowed himself to sob aloud. Not muffled, not crushed down his throat as always real, raw, tearing his chest apart. His shoulders shook violently, his breath falling completely apart for a moment.

"I’m sorry…" he forced out, not lifting his head, as if he feared that meeting his son’s eyes would finish him "I never even told you." His voice broke "Thinking… thinking it didn’t need to be said." 

Tears streamed freely now, soaking into the child’s hair.

Henry stopped moving. He listened. He couldn’t understand the words, but he felt their weight.

"I was a coward." Radzig spoke faster now, as if afraid that if he stopped, he would lose the courage "A coward who let you grow up without me. I let your mother go… even though I loved her more than life itself." 

An image from years ago rose before his eyes. A smile. Quiet evenings. Promises he never kept.

"I should have left with her. With you." His voice grew rough "I should have taken care of you, no matter the consequences. No matter honor, politics, the damned war." He clenched his teeth "I never deserved for you to call me father”.

He lifted his head.

And then he looked into those small, wide, blue eyes.

Something inside him cracked.

Not violently, not with a crash. More like an old beam in a damp wall holding for years, until it finally collapsed under its own weight.

"Instead of telling you…" he went on, almost whispering now "I sent you straight into the enemy’s hands, as if you were just another one of my men." He smiled crookedly through tears "Never… never once, even after you learned the truth, did you throw it in my face." 

He reached out and gently placed his hand on the boy’s cheek. The skin was warm. Real. He brushed his thumb across the soft flesh, as if trying to memorize the touch forever.

"You let me be part of your life… and I couldn’t even do the same for you." He exhaled heavily "I’m so terribly sorry. And now… now this has happened too." 

He wiped his face with his free hand, though the tears returned almost immediately.

Henry only looked at him. Without judgment. Without anger. As if he saw not Sir Radzig, not a hetman, not a man burdened with guilt but simply a father.

After a moment, he cuddled closer.

"Don’t cry…" he repeated, a little louder now, wrapping himself around him.

And holding him like that, Radzig understood that no battle, no throne, no victory had ever been worth the price he had paid for those words.

And for the first time in a very long while, he allowed himself to believe that perhaps not everything was lost.

But that thought did not come right away.

First came another wave of guilt heavier, deeper, one there was no escaping.

Radzig closed his eyes again and pulled the child closer, as if afraid that if he loosened his grip even for a moment, he would lose him forever.

"The truth is worse…" he whispered, more to himself than to Henry "It always was." 

His voice was quieter now, more frayed, as if every word cost him more than the last.

"I chose a name." He swallowed "I chose money, influence, a safety that was only an illusion." A short, bitter laugh tore from his throat "I chose being Radzig Kobyla instead of being your father. Instead of being a man who took responsibility for the woman he loved… and for the only son he ever had." 

The child shifted slightly but did not protest. He felt the tension in his father’s body, sensed that this was something important.

"And she paid the highest price for it." Radzig’s voice trembled" She stayed in Skalitz. With Martin. Without my protection. Without my name." He opened his eyes, though the memory still burned him from the inside" When Sigismund’s troops came… when the city went up in flames… I could do nothing."

He remembered the screams. The smoke. The stench of burning wood and flesh. He remembered the news that reached him too late.

"They murdered her." He finally said it outright, as if any other word would be a lie
"And I went on living. Gathering men. Planning wars…" 

He clenched his jaw until it hurt.

"And I still dared to look you in the eyes, Henry." He whispered "I still dared to think I deserved your trust." 

They stayed like that for a long time. A very long time.

Radzig didn’t know how much time passed. Minutes blurred into one heavy mass. He breathed slowly, forcing himself to calm the trembling in his hands. Eventually the sobbing faded into quiet, broken breaths. Then even those evened out.

He didn’t let go of Henry for a single moment, but his thoughts grew clearer. He ran a hand over his face again, carefully, deliberately as if preparing for battle.

He touched his cheeks. His eyes. His eyelids.

He could not allow anyone to see that he had cried.

Not now.

"It’s all right…" he murmured softly, more to himself "Easy now." 

The child was drowsy, but not asleep yet. He blinked slowly, still nestled close.

Radzig rose carefully from the floor, making sure not to wake him. His knees protested with pain, but he ignored it. He took a few steps toward the door.

"Come." he said more gently "We’ll step outside for a moment. Before you fall asleep." 

Outside, the air was cool and clean. Evening was approaching, but life in the courtyard still went on. Still, children needed more sleep.

Henry lifted his head.

And then he saw them.

The horses.

They stood calmly by the troughs, massive bodies bent as they ate. One tossed its head, another stamped a hoof against the stone.

"Oo…" the boy breathed.

Radzig felt something in his chest loosen, just a little.

"Horses." he confirmed quietly "Big ones, huh?" 

Henry straightened a bit, forgetting everything else for a moment. He pointed, his eyes lighting up.

"Horses…" he repeated with awe, echoing Radzig.

Radzig smiled faintly. For the first time that day.

"Maybe one day I’ll teach you to ride… After all…" he whispered, more like a promise than a plan "If fate gives us a little more time." 

They stood there for a moment. Father and son. In silence, broken only by the snorting of horses and the crackle of fire.

For a brief while, war, Skalitz, Rattay, blood and guilt slipped into the background.

There was only the child, himself, and the calm animals.

A fleeting escape.

And something that very timidly began to resemble hope.

Radzig knew, however, that it was only a moment.

"Come." he repeated softly, turning back toward the door with Henry in his arms "It’s time to sleep. You’re yawning terribly." 

Inside, it was quieter. The fire in the hearth was dying down, casting warm, unsteady light across the walls. Radzig laid the boy carefully on the bedding, as if setting down something precious and fragile.

Henry did not protest. He was already tired. His eyelids drooped heavier with each blink, though he still tried to hover at the edge of wakefulness.

Radzig sat beside him. He rested his elbows on his knees and watched for a while as the small chest rose and fell.

"Horse…" Henry mumbled suddenly, with visible effort, as if the word was too important to let it disappear "Big..."

Radzig felt his throat tighten.

"You saw them." he replied gently. "Beautiful, aren’t they?"

The boy nodded very slowly. One small hand closed around Radzig’s finger.

"Tomorrow…" Radzig began, though a voice of reason, of war and duty, immediately spoke up in his mind "Tomorrow morning we’ll go see the horses again. You can look at them some more. Maybe they’ll even let you touch one."

Henry smiled faintly. More instinctively than consciously.

"Dad…" he whispered.

Radzig leaned in and adjusted the blanket. His movements were slow, careful, as if any sudden gesture might send the child back to that dark place he had only just returned from.

"Sleep." he said quietly "I’m here." 

He stayed long after Henry’s breathing evened out. Long after the small fingers loosened their grip.

He didn’t stand up right away. He was afraid that if he moved, something would break.

Only after a while did he allow himself to rise. He tucked the child in more securely, made sure he was warm. Then he stepped back.

He looked at his sleeping son and thought about tomorrow.

Not about war.

Not about politics.

Only about horses.

And about the fact that if fate proved even a little merciful, he would keep that one small promise.

Chapter Text

The sun was slowly climbing over the horizon, as if it hesitated, unsure whether it was worth greeting another day in a world that so often burned. Its pale, tentative rays squeezed through the narrow window of the chamber, painting thin golden stripes across the stone floor. The light seemed quiet, almost holding its breath, as if afraid to disturb the peace of this moment.

Henry stirred uneasily.

Warmth. That was the first thing he felt soft, cozy, as if wrapped around him in safety. Second smell. Skin, wool and metal. Something familiar, yet mysterious. He opened his eyes lazily, blinking a few times, as though the world hadn’t fully decided to return to its place.

For a moment, his whole little body stiffened.

A strange ceiling. Strange walls. Everything felt bigger, colder, more alien than yesterday.

Then he looked to the side.

And the tension vanished.

Radzig lay beside him, heavy and still, his face partly buried in the pillow. His beard was unshaven, hair tousled, his breathing deep and steady. He slept like a man who hadn’t truly slept in ages as if he were making up for all the days and nights he had spent without rest.

Henry sat up, pressing his hands against the soft, slightly rumpled quilt. He looked around the room with a mix of curiosity and caution, as if seeing it for the first time. Stone, wood, a chest against the wall, a table, a chair everything enormous, foreign, fascinating.

"Pa?" he murmured, glancing uncertainly at his father, lightly touching his shoulder.

Nothing.

He frowned.

"Pa…" he repeated, louder this time, poking him with a finger.

Radzig only mumbled something incomprehensible and turned his head, pulling the quilt closer to his face.

Henry’s eyes went wide, and he grimaced, as if he’d just been deeply offended.

"Dad!" he called, now clearly, trying not to lose patience.

The only reply was a snore and a slight movement as Radzig rolled onto his side, tugging the quilt tighter.

Little Henry muttered under his breath:

"Hmpf…"

He tried again. And again. No luck. His father was asleep, unaware of the world.

Resigned but determined, Henry slid out from under the quilt. He clumsily jumped off the bed, landing on the cold, hard floor with a soft thump. He shivered for a moment, but quickly forgot the chill, consumed by the rest of the world.

He looked around the room. The blocks the same ones he had stacked yesterday lay scattered in a corner. He touched them lightly, one by one, but today they didn’t seem so fascinating.

He lifted his gaze.

The window. Treacherous window, tempting with a view of the world outside.

He stepped closer, climbed onto a chair, then stood on tiptoe, drawing a deep breath. Outside, there was no crow.

"Not a good bird…" he muttered seriously, peering through the glass.

He turned and stepped down to the floor.

The door. There it stood, huge and wooden, inviting him to discover what lay beyond.

He scurried to it, pushed with all his strength. Nothing. He stepped back, frowned, tried again. The door wouldn’t budge.

Then his eyes landed on the handle. He stood on tiptoe, stretched his hand as far as he could. His fingers barely brushed it. He tried again, this time harder, and managed to grip it. He pulled.

"Oh!" he squeaked quietly.

Once more. The door creaked and slowly gave way. Henry grinned, proud as he’d ever been.

The hallway was enormous. Cold. The echo of his small steps bounced off the walls. He moved forward cautiously, curiosity growing with each step.

Voices.

He froze, heart pounding.

He pressed himself into a small nook in the wall. A man in armor passed by, paying him no mind. Henry waited a moment, then continued on.

The door to the outside. Light. Freedom.

He ran down the stairs as fast as he could. He nearly tripped, but caught the railing. The courtyard was cool, smelling of hay, wet earth, and animals.

"Ponies!" he squealed, running toward two horses standing in Skalitz colors.

"Hello…" he murmured as he drew closer.

He stopped, staring at the gray mare.

"Pebbles?" he whispered uncertainly.

The mare twitched her ears, turned her head, then lowered it and nudged him with her nose against his clothes.

"Hey!" he laughed loudly, hugging her with his whole body.

A bark interrupted the moment. A dog ran up, sniffed Henry, then tumbled him onto his back, licking his face.

"Mutt!" the boy shouted, laughing so hard he almost lost his breath.

"Come on!" he called, running toward the market. The dog ran behind him, tail wagging. Pebbles tugged on her lead, as if wanting to join the journey. Henry focused, carefully unfastened her, and she neighed, moving forward.

"Let’s go!" he called to his new companions.

The world was vast and silent.

"Doggy… look," he said, pointing at the Upper Castle tower.

"Big…" he whispered as the mare nudged him with her head, lowering herself so he could climb up. He grabbed her back, and everything around him seemed even larger and more terrifying.

The mare moved forward, the dog running around, barking and wagging its tail. Henry felt joy, until he suddenly stiffened, eyes fixed on the reins, gripping them tighter. She snorted and picked up speed.

"Yes, Pebbles," he whispered seriously, guiding her toward the main gate. Ignoring the guards, he gave her a gentle kick, and the mare understood, galloping across the bridge.

Henry sat tall, fully absorbed in the moment, until he suddenly snapped back to reality. He looked around sharply, terrified.

"Dad?" he squeaked, trembling. He didn’t recognize the place, nearly fell off the saddle but caught himself and pulled up.

"Get down! Please!" he yelled, holding back tears.

Unfortunately, a hare dashed right in front of the mare, who reared in panic and threw Henry to the ground. He landed hard, but luckily, nothing worse than bruises and scratches. He slowly sat up, shaking his head a few times.

"Bad Pebbles!" he cried, scared and in tears, and the mare looked at him, beginning to nibble the grass.

He stood and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. He looked around again. Trees everywhere, no living soul. He sniffed.

"Dad…" he whispered, hugging the dog. Maybe he felt a little safer. He looked at the horse and approached her. His leg and arm hurt, but something compelled him to climb back on. She lowered herself, letting him mount again.

"To Dad… Home." he breathed, and the mare obediently turned back.

The boy laid flat on her back, breathing deeply until he heard his name. He jerked his head up.

"Dad!" he shouted with all his strength, instinctively tensing the horse again, and the mare shot forward. He nearly collided with them, shouting for her to stop.

Only when Radzig, Hans and Hanush grabbed the reins did the mare halt. The boy looked at them with tearful eyes.

"Pa…" he whispered to his father, his voice a mix of fear and relief. Radzig stood before him, torn between joy that his son was alive and the anger raging inside him.

"For God’s sake, Henry!" he shouted, and the boy instinctively shrank in the saddle. "What were you thinking?!"

"Radzig, stop yelling at the child," Hanush approached slowly.

"You see he already learned his lesson," he said calmly, though tension shook his voice.

"He could’ve died! Someone could’ve attacked him!" Radzig turned to his friend, not noticing that Henry had already buried himself against Hans, quietly sobbing as if the whole world had collapsed in an instant.

"He’s still just a child, Radzig. How old is he? Three years?" Hanush raised his head, looking his friend in the eye. "What do you hope to prove by yelling?"

"But he’s still Henry…"

"For God’s sake, Radzig! Henry is three!" Hanush didn’t hide his anger. "He doesn’t even know all the words to speak to us, and you roar, thinking it will achieve something. We understand your fear, but yelling changes nothing."

"I… I’m scared," whispered Henry, trembling in Hans’s embrace. Maybe his friend, maybe his lover? The boy couldn’t remember clearly, but Hans knew what had happened just a few days ago, before all this chaos.

"It’s alright now, Hal… Dad was just worried about you," Hans whispered, hugging him closer. Radzig, still tense and angry, slowly stopped arguing with Hanush as they began moving toward Rattay together.

Chapter Text

The sun was already high, its bright rays glinting off the stone walls of Rattay and spilling warmth across the courtyard. For everyone else it was an ordinary day filled with shouted greetings, the clatter of hooves, and the creak of wagons. For Radzig, however, nothing existed beyond the weight of the small body pressed against his chest.

Henry sat curled up in the saddle, too quiet, too still. His hands were clenched in Hans’s shirt, as if he feared that letting go even for a moment would cause the world to fall apart again. Hans felt the boy tremble with every step of the horse.

“It’s all right, Hal,” he whispered. “We’re in Rattay now.”

Unnoticed by the others, he brushed a gentle kiss against the top of the boy’s head. God, how terribly he had missed him.

Henry didn’t answer. He only pressed closer.

“Ans… don’t go,” he murmured, looking up at him with wide, childlike eyes when they stopped in the courtyard.

“I’ll come to you, Henry. I promise. But first Sir Radzig needs to talk to you,” Hans sighed. His hands were a little tied at the moment.

“Pa... mad,” the boy said softly, lowering his head.

“He was worried about you. Don’t ever run off like that again… I was worried too,” Hans sighed. “It’s your job to protect me, not the other way around.”

He managed a hint of teasing malice he liked poking at him like that.

Henry looked up at him, a faint spark of understanding in his eyes, as if he’d caught the joke. Unfortunately, Hans didn’t have time to say anything more, because Radzig was already beside them.

“Give him to me,” he muttered, holding out his arms for his son.

Hans handed him over reluctantly. The boy tensed at once, as though bracing himself for shouting.

Radzig adjusted Henry in his arms and, without a word, headed toward Pirkstein. Henry only waved to Hans and then pressed himself sadly against his father.

The chamber was filled with bright daylight. Dust danced in the sunbeams streaming through the window. Radzig closed the door, as if that single gesture could shut out everything bad, and then carefully sat the boy down on the bed.

“Sit… rest,” he said gently.

Henry watched him for a long moment, as though gathering his thoughts. Finally, he moved his hands, trying to show something.

Radzig crouched beside the bed so they were at eye level and smoothed the boy’s hair.

“Henry, don’t ever run away from me like that again. Please. I thought that…” He broke off halfway through the sentence. “Please, don’t do that to me again.”

“I’m sorry…” Henry whispered, his eyes filling with tears once more.

“Don’t cry. It’s all right now,” Radzig sighed.

“No… Pa… I… the… horse…” he forced out.

Radzig leaned closer.

“What about the horse?”

Henry frowned, frustrated by his own clumsiness. His face flushed red with anger.

“Peb… Pebbles,” he said at last, with obvious effort, panting at the end. “Scared… boom,” he added, smacking his hand against the mattress, hoping his father would understand.

Radzig froze.

“Pebbles… Pebbles threw you,” he repeated quietly, and Henry nodded. “How do you know her name?”

“She… she always… and Mutt!” Henry smiled faintly, proud that he’d managed to say it.

For a moment, Henry’s face brightened.

“Mutt was,” he said more confidently. “He helped. He always… he…”

Frustration overtook him again. He couldn’t find the word.

Radzig felt a tightness in his chest. Those names. Those small details. They gave him a fragile hope.

Suddenly, Henry slid off the bed. He stood unsteadily, lifting his arms as if holding something heavy.

“Like this…” he muttered. “That’s how I did it!”

He took a step forward. A swing. A short strike. Then another. His body remembered. Not words movement. Weight. Tension.

“Sword…” he whispered. “Heavy.”

He pointed at Radzig’s weapon at his belt.

Radzig’s heart was pounding wildly.

“Good,” he said calmly. “It’s good that you remember.”

Henry sank back onto the bed, tired and confused.

“Really?” he murmured with curiosity.

“Very much so, Hal. You haven’t eaten anything. I’ll feed you, wash you, and change you. You smell like a horse, my son,” he laughed, and the boy sniffed himself.

“Yuck.”

“Yes, yuck. Pebbles needs a wash too, eventually.”

“Yes!” he shouted happily. “Wash! Wash!”

Radzig burst out laughing, scooped him up, and carried him down to the kitchen.

The women there practically swept Henry off his feet. They fussed over him, laughed, fed him, delighted in every word and gesture. Every now and then the boy glanced around just to make sure his father was still in sight. He ate eagerly, as if only now realizing how hungry he was.

Then came the bath, and somehow toys appeared as well. If they could have, they would’ve pushed Radzig out the door what could the poor man do against so many women? Clearly, his son already had great success with the fairer sex at a very young age.

When Henry had played his fill, they handed him back to Radzig fed, clean, and changed. They called after them that they hoped the little sweetheart would visit again. Henry waved goodbye, and together with his father they returned to the chamber.

“Will you play by yourself for a bit? I need to write a few letters, Hal.”

The boy nodded and soon reached for his blocks. He built. He knocked them down. He built again.

The afternoon passed peacefully. Radzig wrote his letters, glancing at the boy from time to time. It seemed as though everything was falling back into place.

Suddenly, Henry went still.

The blocks slipped from his hands. His eyes widened in fear.

“Henry?”

Radzig was at his side at once.

The boy stared at the tower he’d built, as if he were seeing something else. Something terrible.

“F… fire…” he whispered. “Skalitz…”

Radzig felt the ground give way beneath him.

“What do you see, Hal?”

Henry was trembling. Tears streamed down his face.

“Dead people… lots…” he whispered.

Without hesitation, Radzig pulled him close.

“No more,” he said softly. “It’s over now. You’re safe. I’m here.”

Henry buried his face in his father’s chest, his whole body shaking. He cried quietly, like a child who doesn’t understand fear, but feels it with every part of himself.

After a while, his breathing calmed.

“I remember… a little,” he whispered suddenly. He pointed to his temple. “Here… just a bit.”

Radzig stroked his hair in silence, the words caught in his throat.

“That’s enough for today.”

Henry lifted his head.

“It won’t disappear?” he whispered anxiously.

“No,” Radzig answered without hesitation. “Not anymore.”

When the boy had calmed down, Radzig took him to the table and settled him on his lap. They sat there together in the daylight, in a silence broken only by the child’s steady breathing and the scratch of a quill across parchment. The curse had taken time, body, words but not everything.

The memories were coming back.

Slowly. In fragment. And this time, Radzig would not let them fade.

Chapter Text

When Radzig finished the last letter, he slipped it into an envelope and sealed it carefully with wax. That was enough for today. He set the quill aside and looked toward the window. Night had already fallen, darkness settling over the walls of Rattay like a heavy curtain.

“How are you feeling, Hal?” he asked quietly, lowering his gaze.

The boy had been sitting on his lap the entire time, pressed close with his whole body, as if that were the only place in the world where safety still existed.

“Good,” he murmured into Radzig’s chest. Then he lifted his head and looked up at his father. “Done?” he asked, pointing at the letters on the table.

“Yes. I’m done for today,” Radzig replied with a faint smile.

But the smile faded quickly. Henry still looked subdued, lost in thought.

“Why that face, Henry?” he asked gently. “You look sad.”

The boy nodded.

“Yes…” he whispered and touched his fingers to his temple.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “A lot… lots here…” He sighed heavily and shifted on his father’s lap.

“A lot of thoughts?” Radzig tried softly.

Henry didn’t answer. He just lowered his eyes. Radzig didn’t push. This day had already given them more than enough.

“Dad… sleep,” the boy murmured at last, rubbing his eyes with his fists. He slid off Radzig’s lap and slowly walked over to the bed.

“You really should eat some supper first, lad.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Hal, you must be hungry.”

“No! Sleep!” he suddenly shouted, stamping his foot.

Radzig sighed, not commenting on the outburst. He already sensed there would be more moments like this.

He laid Henry down carefully in the bed. The warm glow of a candle danced across the chamber walls, and the heat from the fireplace wrapped around them both. The small body curled into the pillow, breathing slowly evening out. Radzig sat beside him, stroking his son’s hair and watching as the boy’s eyelids gradually drooped.

“Good night, Hal,” he whispered. “Sleep peacefully.”

Henry mumbled something indistinct and turned onto his side, hugging the pillow tighter.

Only then did Radzig allow himself a moment to relax. He asked the servants for supper. Only now did he realize how hungry he was. The wine warmed him and soothed his thoughts. After an hour, maybe two, he decided he should lie down as well.

He changed, slipped under the covers beside his son, and drew him closer. Henry instinctively nestled in, seeking warmth. Not long after, Radzig sank into a deep sleep.

In the middle of the night, Henry woke abruptly, drenched in sweat. His eyes were wide open. He looked around wildly, stared at his hands, then at his sleeping father.

“No…” he whispered.

He slid out of bed. The door was locked. Panic flared for a moment, but then he reached for the key hidden in Radzig’s clothes. He didn’t truly know it was there. It was as if experience guided him. He opened the door carefully and ran out into the corridor.

At the door to Hans’s chamber, he had to jump and hang from the handle. When it finally gave way, he almost tumbled inside.

Hans woke with a start.

Henry stood by the bed, barefoot, wearing a nightshirt far too long for him. His eyes were far too alert. Far too aware.

“Ans… help,” he said quietly, grabbing Hans’s hand.

“Hal?” Hans sat up at once. “What are you doing here? You scared me. And second, you should be sleeping.”

The boy clambered awkwardly onto the bed and sat very close.

“I… remember,” he began. “But not everything. Pieces. Ans, help…” he whispered, clutching Hans’s shirt in his small fists.

“What do you remember?” Hans asked softly, touching his cheek.

“I was… bigger. Like you,” Henry said quickly. “I had strength. And a sword.”

He lifted his hand, making a clumsy cutting motion.

“I knew what I was doing… We were together, Ans…”

Hans turned his face away, swallowing back tears.

“Hal… I miss you so much,” he whispered. “How can I help you?”

Henry sighed in frustration.

“Now it’s like… water. I see it, but…” He touched his temple. “Too much here. Too much. And my mouth… it can’t.”

“What else?” Hans asked.

The boy hesitated.

“There was… something. Not a monster. Not…”

“Like a shadow?” Hans supplied.

Henry nodded.

“She… didn’t scream… She did this…” He traced a circle with his hand and tapped his head. “And then I… small. I don’t want to!” he squeaked.

Hans felt an icy grip tighten in his stomach.

“A woman?”

Another nod.

“What did you feel?”

“Boom,” he said simply.

“You fell?”

“Yes.”

Hans wrapped his arms around him carefully.

“That’s enough for now.”

“Ans… tell Pa,” Henry whispered. “My head… hurts.”

“I will. I promise.” And he lifted him into his arms.

“Ans…” Henry whispered at the door to Radzig’s chamber. “If I… forget… I love you.”

Hans lost his breath.

“I love you too.”

The door flew open. Radzig stood there, pale and furious all at once.

“What’s going on?! Why is Henry”

“Sir,” Hans stepped inside without waiting. “Henry spoke. He remembers. Something… or someone. You need to hear this.”

Radzig looked at his son, who pressed himself into his chest, suddenly deadly tired when Hans handed him over.

“What do you know, Hans?” Radzig asked quietly, deadly serious. He sat down in a chair with Henry on his lap, counting each of his son’s breaths almost mechanically. Hans stood a few steps away, by the door, looking as though he might be dismissed at any moment.

Henry slept restlessly, curled into Radzig’s chest, his hand clenched in his father’s shirt as if afraid that letting go would make everything he knew disappear.

“Speak,” Radzig said softly, never taking his eyes off Henry.

Hans swallowed.

“He woke up in the night. Came on his own. No crying. No panic. It was… unnatural, given his condition.”

Radzig gently ran his hand through the boy’s hair.

“What did he say?”

“That he remembers. In fragments. That he was older. That he had a sword. That he fought.” He paused. “That we… were friends.” He sighed. “And then…”

Hans hesitated.

“Then he spoke of her.”

“Who?”

“A woman. He didn’t call her a monster. He said she didn’t scream, that she… touched his head. And then… he became small.”

Silence fell, heavy and thick. Only the crackle of wood in the fireplace could be heard.

“Magic,” Radzig said at last. It wasn’t a question.

Hans nodded.

“Or something very much like it.”

Henry shifted restlessly. Radzig pulled him closer at once, as if to shield him.

“His head hurts,” Hans added more quietly. “Often. He says there are too many thoughts. That he can’t say them.”

Radzig clenched his jaw.

“Because his mind remembers more than the body that carries it.”

“Sir… if he truly remembers his life before this happened…”

“Then someone cursed him,” Radzig cut in sharply.

Hans stepped forward.

“Or saved him from something worse than the curse.”

Radzig looked up at him. For a moment, there was something wild in his eyes.

“Hal said one more thing.”

“What?”

“That it was important. That person. The shadow. Like… a key, sir.”

Radzig stared into the fire.

“He’s a child,” Hans finished. “And he’s your son.”

Radzig looked at him for a long time. Far too long.

“If anyone so much as thinks of touching him again…” His voice dropped. “I won’t hold back. I will kill them.”

“Then they’ll have to go through me first,” Hans said without hesitation.

Something in Radzig cracked. He nodded.

“Tomorrow I’ll bring someone who knows about such things. Not a fairground sorcerer. Someone who knows how to listen.”

“And if that magic harms him?”

“We have to try. He’s suffering all the same. He’s already endured too much pain,” he whispered.

Henry stirred and opened his eyes. For a brief moment, he looked at both of them, as if he knew they were talking about him.

“Dad… don’t disappear,” he whispered.

Radzig bent down at once.

“I’m here with you.”

The boy closed his eyes, soothed by his voice, and fell asleep again.

Hans turned toward the door.

“I’ll go back to my room… Sir Radzig, I want to help him. I’ll do whatever it takes, pay, travel…”

“Hans,” Radzig interrupted gently. “Thank you.”

Hans nodded, not trusting his own voice.

When the door closed, Radzig was left alone with the child and with thoughts that refused to leave him in peace.

Chapter Text

Radzig began preparing before noon, though the sun was only timidly climbing the castle walls, as if unsure whether it should shine fully today.

The chamber was quiet. Too quiet.

The air still held the scent of wax from the candles that had burned almost all night, and a bitter, metallic trace of the herbs he had used to ease Henry’s pain, though both knew it was only an illusion of help. The stone walls breathed cold, and the wooden floor creaked under every step Radzig took, as if even it wanted to betray him and wake the boy.

But Henry was asleep.

He lay curled on his side, one hand clutching the sheet, as if even in sleep he feared something would be taken from him. His brows were furrowed, his lips slightly parted, breath uneven. It was not a child’s peaceful sleep rather, short suspensions between one fear and the next.

Radzig paused for a moment by the bed.

He looked at him for a long time. Too long. Like one looks at something fragile that could be lost with a single careless move.

He truly hoped.

That the woman was still alive.
That she still lived somewhere near Dvorce.
That she wouldn’t turn her back on him when she learned why he had come.

And that she wouldn’t turn out to be another dead end.

He did not wake Henry. After the night full of delirium, pain, and muffled crying into the pillow, the boy deserved every minute of sleep his body could steal from the world.

Radzig turned and returned to packing.

There was no nervous hurry. Every movement was calm, deliberate, almost mechanical. Yet in that restraint was something final.

The sword belt lay on the chest, arranged neatly, as if waiting only for its owner. Worn leather, rubbed where Radzig’s fingers had adjusted the fastening hundreds of times. The sword was heavy a familiar weight that always gave a sense of control. Today, however, it seemed only a reminder of how little he could do.

The cloak draped over the chair looked like it belonged to someone else. Dark, thick, smelling of smoke and rain from previous travels. Radzig touched it with his fingertips, then pulled his hand away as if it burned.

The pouch was simple.

He placed in it only what was truly necessary. A few coins. A short knife. A rolled piece of parchment with notes made the night before names, places, fragments of information. No supplies. No “just in case” items. As if he subconsciously feared that preparing for a long journey would make this departure too real.

Then he felt a gaze on him.

Henry did not speak at once.

He sat on the bed, knees pulled to his chest, clinging to the pillow. He awoke quietly, without sudden movements, like an animal that had learned that noise means trouble. His eyes were still hazy from sleep but alert. Watchful.

He watched.

First in silence. Then more intensely. As if counting Radzig’s movements. As if trying to understand the arrangement of objects in the room.

Then he slid off the bed.

His bare feet touched the cold stone floor, and he flinched, but did not retreat. He took a few steps closer, stopping almost at his father’s knees.

"Pa… where?"

His voice was hoarse, not fully awake, but already tinged with worry.

Radzig froze.

The gloves in his hands ceased to exist. For a moment, the world narrowed to only those two eyes looking up at him too large for a child’s face.

"I have to leave, Hal," he said quietly.

He looked at him, not breaking eye contact. As if to give him at least that honesty.

That one sentence was enough.

Henry moved suddenly, violently, as if someone had pulled him by an invisible string. He ran and clung to Radzig’s legs, burying his face in his hip, squeezing as hard as he could.

"No. Don’t go… dad."

The word “dad” was barely audible. Whispered, like a spell meant to stop the world in its tracks.

Radzig set aside the gloves.

He knelt slowly to be at his son’s level. One hand around his back, the other stroking his tousled hair, feeling its softness and trembling beneath his fingers.

"I’ll return quickly. I want to help you, Henry, so you can be big again."

"You don’t know," the boy suddenly burst out.

His voice trembled. Panic surfaced like water breaching a dam.

"That’s why I need to find out if she will help us."

"You don’t know…" Henry repeated, faster now. "The world… bad… not dad."

The words were broken, jumbled, losing sense, but the fear was crystal clear.

Radzig picked him up.

Henry immediately wrapped himself around him, as if afraid the ground would vanish beneath their feet.

"I must go, Henry. I can’t help you alone."

The boy shook his head violently.

"I remember already. A little. That’s enough." He looked at him pleadingly. "Dad…"

"It’s not enough if it hurts."

Henry hesitated.

"It hurts… but how you… I will endure."

Radzig felt a tightness in his throat.

"That’s why I’m going. I can’t watch you suffer, Henry."

The boy pressed his forehead to his shoulder.

"Take me with you."

"I can’t."

"I will be quiet."

"It’s dangerous. Here you’ll be safe."

"I know the sword."

He said it with childish certainty, almost pride.

Radzig closed his eyes.

"Hal… this is not a path for a child."

"I’m not a child," Henry blurted out with desperate stubbornness. "I was!"

He did not finish.

Instead, he pressed against him, and his arms began to shake. Radzig held him tighter.

"I know," he whispered. "But now you are, and I must protect you."

Henry remained silent for a long time.

"If you don’t come back…"

Radzig gently pulled him back and looked him in the eyes.

"I will. I promise you. On my life."

The boy stared at him, trying to memorize every word, every movement of his lips.

"Who’s with me?"

"Hans."

"Ans… good… friend."

"Yes. And he will stay with you. All the time."

"And at night?"

"Also."

Henry nodded, though unconvinced.

"You’ll return before I forget…"

That sentence broke Radzig completely.

"I won’t let you forget..."

Hans entered the chamber, he immediately felt that something was wrong.

He didn’t even need to look at Radzig. One glance at Henry, clinging to his father as if the floor might collapse beneath them both, was enough.

"Sir… people are waiting in the courtyard."

He spoke quietly, with care. Like someone who knows that every word can be a blow, even if necessary.

Radzig didn’t turn from his son.

"Hans. You’ll stay here. With him."

It wasn’t a request. But there was hope. And fear.

Hans nodded without hesitation.

"Of course," he said immediately. "I won’t leave his side."

Henry moved suddenly, as if only now fully understanding the weight of this conversation. He lifted his head from Radzig’s shoulder and looked at Hans, then instinctively stepped toward him and grabbed his hand.

Not gently.

Too tightly for a child.

As if already securing himself.

"If anything happens…" Radzig began.

Hans looked him straight in the eyes.

"I swear."

That single word was enough.

Radzig leaned down and hugged Henry once more. Tightly. Long. Too long for someone about to leave. As if trying to memorize the weight of his body, the scent of his hair, the warmth of his small arms.

"Be brave."

"You too."

Radzig gave a faint smile.

When he finally stepped back and reached for his cloak, Henry took a step toward him. One. Then another. As if he wanted to run after him before he truly left.

Hans knelt beside him and wrapped an arm around his waist, stopping him.

"Hal… look at me."

Henry dug his fingers into his shirt.

"Dad!"

Radzig turned at the door.

For a fraction of a second, he looked like he wanted to drop everything, return, take off the sword belt, and stay.

But he could not.

"I am with you. Always."

The doors closed quietly.

Too quietly.

Henry stood still for several seconds. As if his body had not yet realized it was over. That they would not open again.

Then all the tension left him at once.

He collapsed heavily onto Hans, as if someone had cut the strings keeping him upright.

"Ans… Dad… will he come back?"

Hans held him tighter, pressing his head to his chest.

"He will. And until then, I am here."

Henry closed his eyes.

Evening fell faster than Henry expected.

Hans lit the candles in Radzig’s chamber the same one where Henry would spend the night. The fire in the fireplace crackled quietly, almost insolently, as if the world hadn’t noticed that something inside it had just broken.

Henry sat on the bed.

He didn’t play with blocks.

He didn’t reach for the wooden figurines Hans had brought him in the morning.

He didn’t ask about anything.

He stared at the door.

As if expecting it to open at any moment. As if it had all been a test.

"Ans…"

He finally spoke. His voice very quiet. Worn out.

"For… a long time."

Hans sat beside him.

He left only today. It’s not night yet… it will take a while, Hal."

Henry nodded.

As if he understood.

Yet his fingers clutched the hem of his shirt so tightly they turned white.

"He… won’t come back."

Hans stiffened.

"Hal, don’t say that."

"It’s always like this," the boy muttered. "When someone goes… they disappear."

"Not him."

Henry shook his head.

"I… won’t be big anymore."

The words came suddenly.

Without preparation.

Without emotional warning.

As if they had been inside him all along, waiting for the moment to escape.

Hans looked at him carefully.

"Why do you think that?"

Henry shrugged.

"Because… it’s been too long. Because it hurts. Because if it were going to be… it’s already…"

He stopped.

"And if he comes back," he added more quietly, "it won’t be for me."

Hans felt a tightness in his throat.

"What do you mean?"

Henry lowered his gaze.

"For someone… better. Someone who doesn’t cry. Who doesn’t…"

He pointed to himself.

"Small."

Silence fell.

"I think… I am… not needed."

The word sounded foreign. As if it did not belong to a child.

Hans immediately wrapped him in his arms.

"Hal. Look at me."

Henry did not want to. He hid his face in his shirt.

"Listen to me very carefully now."

Hans spoke slowly. Carefully.

"If you were not needed… Radzig would not have traveled half the world for help."

Henry moved.

"He went because… because I am broken."

"No."

"Broken," he repeated stubbornly. "It doesn’t work. My head doesn’t obey. My mouth doesn’t obey."

Hans held his hands.

"You are under a curse. Not broken."

"Like a thing."

"Like a human."

Henry sniffled.

"And what if… he doesn’t find me?"

Hans hugged him tighter.

"Then we will keep searching. Together."

"And what if I forget?"

"Then I will remember for you. You are very important to me. I will not forget you."

The boy shivered.

"And what… if I die small?"

Hans closed his eyes for a split second.

"You will not… Henry, you will not die. Please, don’t say that."

Henry breathed heavily.

"Ans… I… don’t… want… to be a burden."

Hans moved him gently so he could meet his eyes.

"You are the reason it’s worth staying."

Henry froze.

"Really?"

"Of course."

He pressed into him without a Word. They sat like that for a long time.The fire in the fireplace dimmed.The candles burned halfway down.

"Ans…" he spoke sleepily. "When he comes back… tell him… I waited."

Hans stroked his hair.

"I will."

"And that… I was brave. A little."

"You are very brave."

Henry sighed.

"That’s good…"

He fell asleep, still holding Hans’s shirt, as if afraid that sleep might also leave.

Hans didn’t move a step.

He stared into the dying fire, empty-eyed, with a thought he didn’t dare speak even silently.

Because if Radzig doesn’t come back…

He would have to become everything Henry still believed the world could be. 

Chapter Text

The road leading back to Radzig’s ancestral lands had always been longer than any map suggested.

Not because of miles, bends, or the state of the tracks. Longer because every stretch of it carried memories that could not be shaken off like dust from a cloak. The forest he passed remembered his childhood. The stones by the roadside knew the sound of hooves from years gone by. Even the wind seemed to whisper names Radzig no longer dared to speak aloud.

He rode alone, having chosen to leave his escort behind in Rattay.

Not because he could not take guards with him. He simply did not want to. This road was too personal, too full of things that ought to remain between him and the soil he had grown from.

His thoughts kept returning to Henry.

To the small hands clutching Hans’s shirt. To the voice breaking over simple words. To the look in his eyes too much fear for a child, too much awareness for a three-year-old.

If I’m too late…

He did not finish the thought.

When the walls of his family’s castle finally came into view, his heart beat harder but not with relief. The crest above the gate was the same. The name the same. The blood the same. And yet everything in him screamed that he did not belong here.

The gate opened without fanfare. Without welcome. The guards recognized him at once some with respect, others with a hostility they did not even try to hide.

The great hall was bright. Too bright. The stone walls were clean, ordered. There was no room here for chaos. Nor for weakness.

His brother sat in a high-backed chair, one arm resting on the armrest. At his side sat his wife calm, straight-backed, hands folded neatly in her lap. Their two children stood slightly behind them. No longer small. Old enough to understand they were witnessing something important.

His brother did not rise.

“What do you want?” he asked coldly.

Radzig removed his cloak and laid it slowly over a chair. Every movement was controlled, though the tension showed in his shoulders.

“I came because I need your help.”

His brother raised an eyebrow.

“You?” he scoffed.

“Yes.”

The silence that followed was thick. Old. As though it had been waiting there for them for years.

“What happened that...” his brother’s wife began softly.

“Be quiet,” his brother cut in without even looking at her. “This is blood business. Not yours.”

The woman paled but obeyed. Still, when she looked at Radzig, her eyes were full of worry. And pity.

“My son…” Radzig hesitated. The word still felt foreign in his mouth. “Something terrible happened to him.”

“You always bring trouble with you,” his brother snorted.

“This is not trouble.”

“For you, nothing ever is.”

Radzig clenched his hand around the edge of the table.

“He was hurt. Change...”

“Changed,” his brother repeated slowly. “And what am I meant to believe this time?”

“The truth.”

“Since when have you cared about that?”

“Since it concerns my child.”

That was enough.

His brother rose abruptly.

“Your child?” he barked a laugh. “You come here with a fairytale and expect us to worship it like a relic?”

“I came for help.”

“For whom? That bastard?” he muttered, clearly amused.

“For my son.”

“For a bastard. That bastard, Radzig! A mistake that exists when it never should have. A shame upon our entire family.”

The word struck like a slap.

“Do not dare speak of him that way.”

“We bear the same name,” his brother continued, stepping closer. “The same blood. And you always had to stain it. Father on his deathbed, when he learned of this… I told him. I was done covering for you. If he could have, he would have disinherited you. You would have been left with nothing, Radzig.”

“This is my child. I have always defended him and I always will. I don’t care that his mother was not of noble birth.”

“Do you care about anything at all?” his brother snapped. “It’s always just you and your ego.”

“Don’t blame me for your own failures.”

“The only failure here is you.”

“At least I have nothing to be ashamed of in my life,” Radzig replied, stepping closer.
“A child you didn’t even raise,” his brother growled. “Where were you when he was growing up? When he learned to speak? When he needed a father? I’ll tell you where you were sitting comfortably in a castle gifted to you by your beloved king.”

Radzig went pale.

“The king summoned me. I had duties to the realm.”

“The king,” his brother laughed bitterly. “Always the king. Always privilege. Always you.”

“He chose me because I could bear responsibility.”

“Because you had nothing to lose!”

Radzig straightened slowly.

“I had everything to lose.”

His brother narrowed his eyes.

“Such as?”

“These lands,” Radzig said quietly. “This house. The woman I loved. And my only child.”

“You would never have gotten these lands over my dead body. I am the firstborn. You deserve no more than dirt under a fingernail, Radzig.” He fell silent for a moment, then burst into laughter. “And now? Now you care? Sir Radzig Kobyla, the great royal hetman, the man others bow to, admits he cares about something?”

“I always cared.”

“You lie,” his brother hissed. “If you didn’t, you would have stayed. But power mattered more.”

“You think it was comfortable?”

“I think it was easy.”

And then there was a crack.

Wings struck the window. Once. Twice.

The window burst open, and a black shape swept into the hall. The air split with a sharp cry.

A raven.

It circled above the table, its wings brushing the tapestry, sending dust drifting down, and then as if it knew exactly where it belonged it settled on Radzig’s shoulder.

Heavy. Calm.

As though it had always been meant to be there.

Radzig froze.

He felt the talons through the fabric of his tunic. The warmth of the bird’s body. And that crawling sensation beneath his skin—unpleasant, familiar. The same one he had felt in the chamber, when Henry had pressed against him and whispered that he was afraid.

“By God…” the woman whispered.

His brother took a step back.

“What is that?”

The raven croaked low, dipping its head close to Radzig’s ear.

“I swear,” Radzig said quietly. “I did not summon it. I’ve seen it before. My son… he was afraid of it.”

“Your son fears the things that cling to you,” his brother snarled. “Magic follows you like a shadow. Maybe this is your fault.”

“If so,” Radzig lifted his gaze, “then someone sent it upon us.”

The raven croaked once more and took flight, vanishing through the window.

The silence it left behind was heavier than any scream.

“There is a woman,” his brother said at last. “To the north. If she still lives.”

“For my son.”

“You have one night.”

Radzig nodded.

He turned and left.

Only in the courtyard did he hear footsteps behind him.

“Sir Radzig.”

He turned.

His brother’s son stood a few paces away, uncertain.

“My father shouldn’t have…” he stopped. “I just wanted to say that I admire you. And to apologize for his outburst. You are still a guest here… and this is still your home, even if he doesn’t want to see you.”

Radzig frowned.

“I’ve heard the stories,” the boy added quickly. “You are respected. Known. And he…” he hesitated. “He lives only on grievances.”

Radzig remained silent, studying the young man. A moment later, the boy’s younger sister appeared beside him.

“Henry…” the boy asked softly. “Is it true?”

“Yes.”

“We’re so sorry,” the girl whispered. “We wanted to meet him when we learned about our cousin, but... ”

“Yes,” the boy cut in. “Father forbade it. I want to go with you… Uncle?” He winced slightly. “I don’t know how to address you without offending.”

“However you prefer.”

Radzig lifted his gaze toward the castle, where he could see his brother arguing with his wife. When his eyes returned to the children, his expression softened.

“It may be dangerous.”

“I know.”

“I simply…” the boy sighed. “As the future lord of these lands, I don’t want family quarrels.” He straightened. “I’ll have a chamber prepared for you so you can rest and eat.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

A sudden scream echoed across the courtyard. Radzig’s head snapped up.

“Wait here,” he said sharply, then hurried back toward the great hall.

He burst in like a storm to find the woman shielding herself from her husband’s blows.

“Leave her alone!” Radzig shouted, grabbing his brother and pulling him away.

“Stay out of this. It’s none of your business.”

“I will not allow a woman to be struck in my presence. That is not what our father taught us.”

“Father was old and foolish,” his brother snarled, wrenching free.

Out of the corner of his eye, Radzig saw the children rush in, shielding their mother and leading her away.

“By God, Paul, what are you doing?” Radzig whispered, stunned. “You cannot beat your own wife.”

“I said don’t interfere. Get to your chamber, and by morning you’d better be gone.”

“Paul, think. I know things between us were never easy, but this isn’t worth it.”

“I don’t want to see you ever again, Radzig.”

“I want nothing from you. I’m not here to take anything. ”

“Get out!” he roared, turning his back.

Radzig obeyed, retreating in silence. There was no point in speaking through anger and shouting.

He asked the guards where his brother’s wife was and was directed to her chambers. He knocked and entered to find her weeping as the children tried to comfort her.

“Please leave,” she whispered. “Radzig, go. It will only get worse.” She looked at him, her cheek red from the blow.

“Uncle… I’ll come later,” the boy said quietly. “Please go to your chamber. Everything will be prepared.”

Radzig nodded and stepped outside.

When he finally reached his room and closed the door behind him, he had the strange feeling that he was dreaming that this was not his home, and that he had not just witnessed everything that had happened... 

Chapter Text

Night had fallen over the castle, heavy and still. Radzig sat by the window of his chamber, staring into the darkness of the courtyard where torches cast weak light against the stone walls. Thoughts swirled in his mind. Every sound in the castle seemed exaggeratedly loud the creak of floorboards, the muffled breaths of guards, the rustle of curtain fabric.

Suddenly, a quiet knock. Someone moved at the door.

"Sir Radzig?" whispered a hesitant voice.

He turned and saw a boy - the son of his brother standing in the half-light. The young man looked nervous, but his eyes were full of determination.

"Quiet," Radzig said, motioning him inside. "They shouldn’t hear us."

The boy stepped in, closing the door behind him. There was more in his gaze than mere curiosity a mix of fear, admiration, and… a need to understand.

"I shouldn’t be here…" he began cautiously. "But I had to. I wanted to talk to you."

Radzig nodded, urging him to continue.

"I’m ashamed of my father," the boy said quietly. "The way he yelled, the way he raged… and that he struck my mother… I also know you’re not the monster he tried to paint you as in his stories."

Radzig frowned but remained silent. The boy stepped closer, leaning against the windowsill.

"I’ve heard stories. People talk about you… how respected you are, how far your decisions reach, how much influence you hold. And he…" he hesitated, lowering his gaze. "He lives only in grudges, old wounds he tends himself."

Radzig sighed. He felt the weight of the words, but also something genuine and true in them.

"And Henry?" the boy asked suddenly. "You say… something happened to him? That… he woke up different? I want to go with you, if I can. I want to see it… Father never wanted me to know you or your son." He sighed.

Radzig lifted his gaze, surprised by the boy’s frankness. There was no fear in his eyes now, only resolve.

"Do you think you’re ready?" he asked quietly.

"I don’t know," admitted the young man. "But if you’re going… if it’s truly important, I want to be part of it. I want to know what’s happening with the family. What’s happening with… with us. I’m rarely behind these walls… I’m kept like a bird in a cage. I don’t want that life." He let out a strained breath.

Radzig felt a strange warmth in his chest. There was no bitterness of his father in this boy yet, only curiosity and courage. He turned toward the window to look at the night, then back to the youth.

"Very well," he said slowly. "We leave tomorrow. But you must know one thing this won’t be an easy path. And I don’t know how it will truly end. I want to help Henry, and that matters most to me."

"I’m not afraid," the boy replied quickly. "Because if I’m with you… that’s enough… And I can handle a sword and a crossbow. I’m not useless."

Radzig smiled faintly, despite the weight of the situation. It was the first time someone in his family looked at him not with resentment, but with curiosity and admiration.

"All right," he said again, more to himself than to him. "Prepare yourself. Tomorrow we leave."

The boy nodded, and in his eyes was something Radzig would remember for a long time not fear, but hope.

The night was quiet, but the echoes of today’s screams still lingered in the chamber. Radzig sat at his desk, staring into darkness, thinking of Henry, of the woman they had to reach… and knowing tomorrow he would face the past again.

The boy sat on the edge of Radzig’s bed, still keeping his gaze fixed on him.

"Sir Radzig…" he began cautiously. "How… how does Henry look now? You know… how he behaves?"

Radzig looked off in an indistinct direction, as if the image of the little boy only existed in his memory, and sighed heavily.

"He’s… different," he said slowly. "He has something of an adult in him, but his body… his gestures are still those of a child. A three-year-old, with far too much awareness in his eyes, too much fear."

"Fear?" the boy frowned. "Of what?"

Radzig turned his gaze back to the youth. His voice carried the weight of memories.

"Of the world. Of what he’s seen. Of what’s happened. Henry remembers… things he shouldn’t remember as a child."

"And his family?" the boy asked, biting his lower lip. "I know his mother… she’s gone, right?"

"Yes," Radzig said quietly. "And that’s why… why I cannot let him suffer alone. He’s endured too much already."

"And… does he… understand that you are his father?" the boy leaned in closer, almost whispering. "Does he even know someone cares for him?"

Radzig squinted, recalling Henry’s small hands clutching his shirt, the quiet whisper trembling with fear and hope.

"He knows," he whispered. "But not fully. Childlike awareness and adult memory… it isn’t easy. Sometimes he forgets. Sometimes he fears being alone again."

The boy leaned back slightly, still watching intently.

"You loved that woman, didn’t you?" he whispered. "Father said a woman of the people wrapped you around her finger and tried to trap you into a child."

"I loved her… that’s why I never married. And now… I wasn’t able to save her." Radzig sighed again, sinking into melancholy.

"And when… when will you go with him to that woman?" the boy asked, changing the subject. "The one who… you know… might help him?"

Radzig nodded.

"We leave once we know she can help him. But… it won’t be safe. We must be careful not to bring new dangers to him."

"I understand," the boy replied, though tension was clear in his voice. "And… if I can… if I can go with you, I want to see who he really is. I want to know what happened."

"I don’t know if you’re ready for those emotions," Radzig admitted. "It’s more than fear. It’s something entirely different."

The boy didn’t back down, and Radzig smiled faintly, though the shadow of unease lingered on his face.

"You will see him. But remember… you must be patient. Not all questions have easy answers."

"Patient," the boy repeated, savoring the word. "I promise."

Radzig nodded and studied him in silence for a moment. He was surprised that the young man looked at him not with resentment, but with curiosity, admiration, and… something resembling courage.

"Prepare yourself. We leave at dawn."

The boy nodded, a spark of determination in his eyes that kept Radzig from looking away.

"Sir…" he began slowly. "I want you to know… I really admire you. Who you are. What you’ve done."

Radzig felt a tightness in his chest. There was no bitterness of his father in this boy yet, only honesty and courage.

"All right," he whispered. "That means a lot, truly."

The boy smiled faintly, shyly.

"And Henry… will he know someone respects him? That someone truly cares for him?"

"He will know everything," Radzig replied calmly. "And if I must, I will do everything to make him feel he is not alone."

The boy nodded, sat back more comfortably, and for a moment was silent, staring into the darkness outside the window.

"Then… tomorrow everything begins," he finally whispered.

"Yes," Radzig said, still gazing at the night, full of both secrets and hope. "And together we’ll see where this path takes us."

For a while, silence reigned. Night thick, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the distant whistle of wind against the walls. Radzig sat at the table, hands resting on its edge, as if the conversation from moments ago still resonated within him.

He hadn’t spoken when hurried, heavy footsteps echoed in the corridor.

Too loud for night.

Too angry.

The door burst open.

Paul.

He hadn’t knocked.

"So it’s true," he growled from the threshold. "You intend to take him with you."

The boy stiffened.

"Father…"

"Silence," Paul didn’t even look at his son. His gaze bore into Radzig. "Was it not enough that you dragged your misfortune here? Now you want to involve my child too."

Radzig straightened slowly.

"I’m not forcing him. He wants to come with me."

"You don’t have to," Paul snorted. "You always had a gift for drawing people in. Even if it meant leading them to certain death."

The boy stepped forward.

"That’s not true."

Paul spun sharply.

"Step back. Your opinion does not interest me right now."

He didn’t.

The boy’s voice was calmer than he expected, but anger long suppressed trembled beneath it.

"I will not step back. And I will not stay silent just because you want me to."

Paul narrowed his eyes.

"You forget who you are and your place here."

"No," the boy replied firmly. "I remember perfectly."

Silence fell.

Radzig watched them closely. In the boy, he saw something Paul would never want to see his own reflection from years ago. The same need to step out of the shadow.

"You are not a child," Paul growled. "But you are not free either. This is my home. My lands. My decisions."

"For now," the son replied. "And even then, you do not own me."

The words hung in the air like a slap.

Paul stepped closer, so they were nearly face to face.

"Do you think the world owes you anything?"

"I think I have the right to decide for myself," the boy said quietly. "And if I am ever to be lord of these lands, I need to know who I want to be."

Paul laughed shortly. Empty.

"And that’s why you’ll follow him? A man who abandoned his own child?"

Radzig flinched but did not interrupt.

The son looked Paul straight in the eyes.

"He didn’t abandon him. He’s trying to save him."

"Now?" Paul hissed. "When it’s convenient to show remorse."

"You know nothing of Henry," the boy snapped. "Nor of what this man is willing to do for him."

Paul turned sharply toward Radzig.

"And you?" he spat. "Will you let him die because of your mistakes?"

Radzig spoke calmly, but there was steel in his voice.

"If he goes with me, I will protect him at the cost of my own life. You cannot keep him locked away his whole life."

Paul snorted.

"Beautiful words."

"The same you once heard from your father," Radzig said quietly. "And you know he kept them."

It hit home.

Paul was silent for a moment.

The boy seized the silence.

"Father…" he said softer. "I am not running. I am choosing. And if you want to stop me, you’ll have to admit you fear not the world… but that I am not you."

Paul clenched his jaw.

"If you cross that gate…"

"I will return," the son interrupted. "And I will return wiser. Or not at all. But it will be my path."

A long moment of silence.

Paul looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. As if only now he noticed the boy was no longer a shadow.

"Leave," he said finally, voice empty. "And don’t expect me to bid you farewell or bury you if you die."

The son nodded.

"All you, father." He turned to Radzig. "We leave at dawn. The horses will be ready, Uncle."

Radzig answered with a short nod.

Paul left without a word, slamming the door.

They were alone.

The boy exhaled, as if only now allowing himself to breathe.

"Sorry about him."

"You needn’t," Radzig replied. "You just did something he never dared."

The boy looked at him intently.

"What?"

"You chose responsibility, not fear."

The smile was brief. Nervous.

"I hope Henry… he won’t hate me for appearing in his life so suddenly."

Radzig closed his eyes for a moment.

"He fears more that everyone will disappear," he said softly. "If you stay… it will already mean something to him."

The boy nodded.

"Then… until tomorrow, Uncle."

Radzig looked at him long.

"Until tomorrow."

And when the door closed again, Radzig was left alone, thinking that sometimes the hardest paths don’t start in the forest, but in the family.

They left at dawn.

No fanfare, no farewells in the courtyard. The gate creaked once, heavily, as if unsure whether it should let them pass.

Only she came his younger sister.

She stood aside, wrapped tightly in her cloak, hair carelessly braided as if she hadn’t slept all night. In one hand, she clutched a rosary, in the other, her brother’s sleeve.

"Come back," she said quietly, almost a whisper, as if a louder word might summon misfortune.

The boy gave her a crooked smile.

"I will return," he promised. "Take care of mother."

She looked at Radzig. Long. Intently. Like someone who sees both salvation and danger in another.

"Please," she added only. "Don’t let him die."

Radzig nodded.

He said no more. Words would have been too weak anyway.

As they rode off, the girl lingered at the gate for a long while. She disappeared from sight only when the road turned down toward the forest.

For the first hours, they rode in silence.

Horse hooves struck the frozen ground rhythmically. The air was cold, sharp, smelling of damp earth and resin. The boy kept glancing back, as if expecting his father to change his mind and send men after them.

He did not.

It hurt more than if he had tried to stop him.

Radzig noticed the change in the silence first.

The forest fell quiet.

Too suddenly.

Birds stopped singing, the wind seemed to die down, even the horses slowed, uneasy. Radzig raised his hand, signaling them to stop.

And then they saw it.

A crow.

Perched on a fallen trunk, black as night, head tilted unnaturally to the side. Its eyes gleamed. It didn’t fly away as they approached. Didn’t move.

The boy felt something tighten in his stomach.

"It’s… the same one," he whispered.

The crow cawed.

Once. Twice. Three times.

The sound was sharp, unpleasant, like a blade scraping stone. Then the bird took flight, heading sideways not along the road, but into the forest. It landed on another tree and cawed again, as if urging them onward.

Radzig narrowed his eyes.

"Not without reason," he muttered.

"Maybe…" the boy hesitated. "Maybe it’s warning us."

As confirmation, a dull sound reached them from afar. Metal on metal. Muffled voices. Laughter.

Bandits.

They hadn’t seen them yet, but Radzig knew that sound all too well.

"The road ahead is being watched," he said quietly. "They wait for an opportunity."

The crow cawed again and flew off, circling.

Radzig hesitated only a moment, then turned his horse to follow the bird.

"Around the long way," he decided. "We’ll lose time, but not lives."

The boy felt relief, though his heart still pounded too fast.

They rode a narrow, forgotten path, through denser woods where branches whipped their shoulders, the ground soft and treacherous. The crow occasionally appeared ahead of them, perching, waiting, as if ensuring they didn’t stray from the chosen path.

Only after a long while did they reach a wider road again.

Far behind them, barely audible, came a cry.

Then another.

The boy turned sharply.

"Is… is that them?" he asked.

Radzig didn’t answer immediately.

"Yes," he said finally. "Someone was unlucky."

The crow circled once more above their heads, then flew away, vanishing among the trees.

The boy stared at the spot for a long time.

"Henry…" he finally said. "If he really is like you say… I want him to know that not everyone in this family is ashamed of him."

Radzig tightened the reins.

"He will," he said quietly.

And though the road was longer, it suddenly felt more right.

Chapter Text

The forest grew so dense that dusk fell faster than it should have. Radzig was the first to decide they would go no farther.

"Here," he said briefly, swinging down from his horse.

They left the road and moved into a small clearing, sheltered on three sides by trees. A good place. Safe. The fire wouldn’t be visible from a distance.

The boy lit the fire more efficiently than Radzig had expected. He was no longer a child this was clear in every movement. In the way he arranged the wood. In how he kept glancing into the darkness, listening.

They sat opposite each other, on either side of the fire. The flames crackled softly.

For a long while, neither spoke. Finally, the boy swallowed.

"Uncle…" he began carefully. "Everyone talked about Skalitz… about what happened there."

Radzig lifted his gaze from the fire, listening.

"They say different things," the boy continued. "I heard it burned. That Sigismund… that there was no mercy. But no one ever talks about what came after. Or where Henry was in all of it. Or you."

Radzig leaned back slightly, as if the weight of memory had suddenly settled on his chest.

"Because it isn’t a story that’s easy to tell," he sighed.

The boy nodded.

"I want to hear it. I feel like my father changed a lot of it, and I don’t know what to think. He said you weren’t there. That you fled earlier, knowing what would happen."

The fire reflected in Radzig’s eyes. For a moment, it looked as though he saw something else entirely in the flames.

"I was there. I didn’t flee anywhere. It happened suddenly. Skalitz was never a fortress. It was a settlement built around silver mining. Skalitz was its home," he said quietly, then looked at the boy. "Henry was just a boy then. A blacksmith’s son. He knew nothing of the world beyond the walls."

"And you?"

"When the king named me Lord of Skalitz… I believe I treated people well. The family we built around Henry was full of warmth. And later I…" His voice broke, as if the words couldn’t force their way out.

The boy shifted uneasily.

"So… you left him?"

Radzig didn’t deny it.

"I thought he was safe. That he had a mother and a father who loved him. I was unnecessary always traveling, always with the king. I only watched him grow from afar. To him, I was just the lord," he sighed. "And then everything went to hell."

The fire flared higher, as if answering his words.

"And then they came…"

Radzig clenched his fingers on his knee.

"Fire. Screaming. Blood. All at once. Henry lost his father. He lost his mother. He lost his entire life in a single moment, before his own eyes."

The boy went pale.

"But he survived. How?"

"Yes," Radzig lifted his gaze. "And that’s the cruelest part. Because surviving is one thing. Living afterward… that’s a different battle. He fled to Talmberg without warning anyone. I saw him run I was already in the castle. We gathered as many men as we could… I thought he would die." He looked at him. "After that, everything slipped out of control."

"They say he fought like a knight. Stories about Henry reached even here."

The corner of Radzig’s mouth twitched.

"Because he was one. Even if no one ever gave him the title. He walked through hell and came out with a sword in his hand."

"Why didn’t you legitimize him?"

"There is no King for one. And for another, Henry must want it. I won’t force that on him."

"And have you talked to him about it?"

"No. Never."

"You never offered it to him, Uncle?" The boy was genuinely stunned. "Then how can you know he doesn’t want it, if he doesn’t even know it’s possible and that you want it too?"

Radzig’s expression hardened. When he thought about it, the boy was absolutely right.

"I’m an idiot. Holy Mother of God…" He buried his face in his hands as the realization hit him.

The boy leaned forward slightly.

"That’s not true. You’re lost in all of this too. And now on top of that he’s a child again. Just… when things return to some kind of normal, talk to him. I say this as a child whose father doesn’t care what he says."

Radzig nodded.

"You’re completely right. And Henry is only three now. With memories he can’t carry. Emotions he doesn’t understand. Pain that returns the moment he closes his eyes."

The boy stared into the fire.

"My father says a bastard can’t be a hero. That’s not true. You can’t judge people by how they were born."

Radzig looked at him sharply.

"Your father is wrong… very wrong."

The boy fell silent for a moment, staring into the flames as if gathering courage.

"Does he…" he finally asked more quietly. "Does Henry know who you are to him?"

Radzig didn’t answer right away.

The flames reflected in his eyes, but his gaze was elsewhere. As if he saw stone walls. Darkness. Blood.

"He knows," he said at last.

The boy lifted his head.

"Really?"

Radzig nodded slowly.

"Yes. He knows I’m his father."

"That’s… that’s good, right?"

A shadow crossed Radzig’s face. Not a smile. More like a crack.

"Not the way he should have learned."

The boy frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Radzig drew a deep breath, as if each word had to pass through something sharp.

"I was a coward and you already know that. Henry didn’t hear it from me…"

The boy stiffened.

"Uncle..."

"Don’t interrupt me," Radzig said quietly but firmly. "It’s the truth, and it deserves to be named."

He rested his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands.

"After Skalitz, I meant to tell him. A thousand times I meant to. When we sat by the fire. When I dressed his wounds. When he fell asleep exhausted after battle or other duties," his voice trembled slightly. "But every time, I chose silence."

The boy swallowed.

"Why?"

Radzig let out a short laugh, without a trace of humor.

"Because I was afraid that if I said it out loud, he would reject me. That he would look at me and see not a father… but the man who left him and lied to him."

The fire crackled louder.

"I only confirmed it when I had no other choice."

"When?"

Radzig lifted his gaze. His eyes were dark.

"Henry was sent on missions to infiltrate enemy camps. He was recognized, and during torture one of the nobles who had once served me who turned out to be a traitor revealed the truth of his birth to him."

The boy froze.

"They wanted to break him with it. To make him believe he couldn’t trust me, to make him switch sides," Radzig continued. "Henry managed to escape and simply said to me, father. There was no point in lying anymore. He learned the truth from his enemy not from me."

His jaw tightened.

"So I told him the truth. That he is my son."

Silence fell. Heavy. Suffocating.

"And he…" the boy spoke barely above a whisper. "How did he take it?"

Radzig closed his eyes for a moment.

"Like someone who waited their whole life for a single sentencje and heard it at the worst possible moment. To this day, he’s never screamed it in my face. Never cursed me. Never turned away. He accepted it and stayed."

The boy lowered his gaze.

"That wasn’t cowardice," he said after a moment. "That was fear."

Radzig shook his head.

"Fear can still be a choice. I knew what I was doing from the beginning and what the consequences would be."

He looked up into the darkness above the trees.

"And now I pay the price. Every day. For Henry. For his mother’s death. For the death of the man who was my friend and who raised my son."

"You loved her, didn’t you?"

"I still love her. I can’t accept that she’s gone. I was foolish… ignorant not to leave with her. And now… now I would give so much just to see her once more," he whispered, head lowered. "She didn’t deserve such a fate."

The fire dimmed for a moment, as if the night itself held its breath at Radzig’s confession.

And then, high above them, came a soft, drawn-out caw.

A crow.

As if it were listening.

As if it remembered.

As if it knew.

Chapter Text

The raven cawed once more this time louder. Sharper.

They both lifted their heads almost at the same moment.

The bird was perched high above them, on the dry branch of an old oak, barely visible against the sky. Darker than the night itself, as if it were not part of it, but something that stood apart from it. It tilted its head, staring straight at them.

Not at the fire.

At them.

The boy instinctively reached for the knife at his belt.

"That’s… the same one, isn’t it?" he asked quietly.

Radzig rose slowly, never taking his eyes off the bird.

"Yes."

The raven shifted its wings as if about to take flight, but instead let out a low, guttural sound. It was no ordinary cry. There was something unsettling in it something that made the skin prickle at the back of the neck.

Radzig felt the same tingling as before. The same one he felt near Henry. As if something unseen had brushed against him from the inside.

"I don’t like this," the boy muttered. "Birds don’t behave like that without a reason. And this one especially."

As if to confirm his words, the raven launched itself from the branch. It flew low over the clearing, so close that the fire trembled and the flames dimmed for a brief moment. Then the bird veered sharply into the forest… and vanished.

Silence fell.

The forest suddenly came alive. Too alive. As if something had shifted beyond the ring of light.

The boy turned in that direction.

"Do you think it’s a warning, Uncle?"

Radzig nodded without hesitation.

"Exactly."

"About what?" The boy looked around.

Radzig listened. The wind carried the scent of damp earth… and something else. Something that did not belong to the forest.

"About people," he said at last, instinctively gripping the hilt of his sword.

The boy went pale.

"Bandits? Again?"

"Or deserters. Or both."

Radzig glanced at the fire, then at the path they had come from.

"The raven doesn’t circle without reason. It led us earlier. Now it’s telling us to leave the road."

"So…"

"We change our route. Now."

The boy stood up at once. 

"Will you put out the fire?"

"Yes. Quickly."

They did it efficiently, without words. The earth accepted the embers with a quiet hiss. Moments later, the clearing looked as though no one had ever been there.

The forest swallowed them again.

They moved sideways between the trees, leading their horses by the reins. Radzig kept glancing upward, as if expecting to see the black silhouette again and after some time, he did. The raven flew low, perched on branches, waited. And whenever they moved in the wrong direction, it cawed sharply, impatiently.

"It’s leading us…" the boy whispered. "Like a hunting dog. If someone told me this, I don’t know if I’d believe it."

"I once saw magic with my own eyes," Radzig sighed. "It never ended well for those who used it."

After a long while, they reached a narrow path, invisible from the main road. There they stopped.

Voices drifted up from below.

Laughter hoarse. Dirty.

And the clatter of metal.

The boy looked at Radzig with wide eyes.

"If we’d gone straight…"

"We would’ve ridden straight into them. The two of us wouldn’t stand a chance against that many," Radzig said, making the sign of the cross without thinking.

For a moment they stood motionless, listening.

The raven hadn’t flown far.

Instead of vanishing into the dark, it circled widely above the trees and settled again on a branch, clearly waiting for them. Its black eyes glinted in the moonlight. Then it tilted its head and cawed once short, urgent.

"It doesn’t want us to stay here," the boy whispered. "Let’s go. We’re not safe."

Radzig nodded.

"It’s leading us on. I wonder where."

"In the middle of the night?"

"Still safer than staying here… especially with those men behind us," he snorted softly, and one of the horses answered with a quiet snort of its own.

They followed the bird slower now, more cautiously leading their horses, stepping carefully so as not to break branches. The forest around them grew denser, yet strangely… quieter. As if the animals had withdrawn from this path. At one point, even the horses resisted, reluctant to move forward.

The raven flew from tree to tree, always a step ahead. Sometimes it waited. Sometimes it cawed in warning when they strayed even half a step.

"I’ve never seen anything like this," the boy muttered. "Let’s hope it’s not leading us to a certain death by someone’s hand."

"It never did before," Radzig replied. "Henry saw it earlier. In Rattay. He was afraid of it… and I thought it was just a child’s fear."

He stopped for a moment.

"Now I’m not so sure."

After a while, the trees suddenly parted.

Not violently. Not like stepping onto a road. More as if they made room on their own.

A small clearing, almost perfectly round, bathed in pale moonlight. The grass was lower here, trampled. In the center stood a low stone, covered in moss.

And someone else.

A woman.

She stood with her back to them, dressed in a dark, simple gown. Long hair fell down her back, silver in the night’s glow. She didn’t look surprised.

As if… she had been waiting.

The raven descended from the branch and, without hesitation, settled on her shoulder.

Like a throne.

The boy held his breath.

"Is that… is it her?" he forced out, instinctively stepping back.

Radzig felt his heart pound harder. Every instinct screamed at him to reach for his sword. Every memory of Henry screamed at him not to run.

He stepped forward.

"We’ve been looking for you," he said, choosing to risk it. In truth, he barely remembered what the woman looked like. Damn it he’d been a child himself back then.

The woman turned slowly.

Her face was pale, but not sickly. Her eyes were dark, deep too attentive. She looked first at Radzig. Then at the boy. Finally at the raven, as if confirming it had done what was required.

"I know," she said calmly.

Her voice was quiet, yet it carried across the clearing more clearly than a shout.

"You knew we were coming?" Radzig asked.

"I knew you would come. I’ve waited a long time."

The raven shifted its wings but did not fly away.

"And that you wouldn’t come alone."

The boy felt his stomach tighten.

"How?"

The woman smiled faintly. There was no warmth in it but no cruelty either.

"Because everything that has been disturbed seeks its source," she replied. "And you, Radzig Kobyla, are closer to that source than you would like to admit."

Radzig clenched his jaw.

"My son has been changed."

"I know that very well. He’s a charming child, isn’t he?" she said, stroking the raven’s head as she spoke.

"He’s hurting from what he remembers, and from what he doesn’t understand," Radzig said, close to losing control.

"I know."

"I want to know who did this. And why."

She met his gaze directly.

"Those are questions you ask too early."

The boy stepped forward, determined to speak.

"And the question of whether it can be undone?"

The raven cawed low, as if warning.

The woman looked at the boy properly for the first time.

"That question… is the right one."

The clearing fell silent.

"And now I have a question for you," she said softly. "Do you remember me, Radzig?"

Radzig narrowed his eyes.

For a moment, he truly wanted to lie. To say no. To say he’d never seen her before. That she was just another face from the past trying to burden him with guilt.

But memory struck him suddenly brutally.

The shadow beneath an old oak. The scent of herbs. The warm voice of a woman who looked at him as if she knew more about him than he knew himself.

"Yes," he said at last, hoarsely. "I’ve seen you… once, when I was a child."

Her expression flickered. As if that was exactly what she expected.

"You’ve seen me more often than you want to remember," she replied. "And each time, my heart ached more, knowing what would come."

She stepped closer.

"Do you know who I was?"

Radzig nodded slowly.

"A woman…" he whispered, confused. "Like any other who lives on the edge of our world…"

"A mother," she cut in, as the raven cawed loudly.

The boy gasped. Radzig felt the ground slip from beneath his feet.

"A mother?" he echoed quietly.

She lifted her chin.

"Her mother. The woman you loved."

Silence fell heavy as stone.

"No…" Radzig whispered. "That’s impossible."

"And yet," she cut him off. "My daughter was not an ordinary girl. She never told you… but she had a gift. A power she hid. Blood that remembered more than anyone could have foreseen."

Radzig staggered back a step, as if the words struck him physically.

"What… what are you saying?" he choked. "Jana?"

"Yes. And Henry inherited part of what she had," she said calmly, almost flatly. "And you… you abandoned them both."

Radzig felt a strange pain bloom in his chest. He had never known. Never suspected.

"I… I didn’t know," he said softly, barely a whisper. "If I had known."

"Would you?" she interrupted. "Would you have done anything differently?"

Radzig fell silent.

"You wanted to protect her," he said at last.

She nodded.

"Yes. And that is why your decisions had consequences, Radzig. It wasn’t only about you. It wasn’t only about Henry. It was about her. About what she carried within her."

She stepped even closer.

"I told her to reject you. She wouldn’t listen," her eyes flashed strangely as she placed a hand on his shoulder. "You hurt her."

Radzig felt a weight of guilt he had never known before.

"And now you ask whether it can be undone," she said more quietly. "It can. But you cannot do it."

Radzig lifted his head, struggling to steady himself.

"I want to help him. He’s my son."

"Now he’s your child, you say?" she mocked softly. "I should have taken my grandson years ago."

"No… please. Don’t take him from me too."

"Jana loved you so deeply. You cannot comprehend how many tears she shed because of you. And Henry… he is the only small part of her that remains."

She stepped back.

"She died because of you. You brought misfortune upon her."

"I never wanted her to die. Never," Radzig burst out. "I loved her."

"But power, privilege, and coin mattered more than your heart, Sir Radzig," she sneered.

At that moment, the boy screamed.

"G-ghost!" he shrieked, pale as death, stumbling into his horse and pointing toward the trees.

Radzig followed his gazeand nearly fell to his knees.

"Jana…"

Chapter Text

Radzig took a step forward slowly, cautiously as if a single sudden movement might cause the image before him to blur and vanish. His heart was pounding so hard that the blood roared in his ears.

"Jana…" he whispered.

She stood a few steps away from him. Just as he remembered her from Dvorce, and later from Skalitz. Young. Slender. Her hair lightly pinned back at the nape of her neck. No trace of fire. No wounds. No scars that should have been there. Alive. Too real to be only a memory.

"You can see me," she said softly, resting her hand against a tree. "This is not a dream, Radzig."

Her voice was the same. Radzig felt his throat tighten painfully.

"I thought…" he broke off. "I thought you were dead. I saw the fire. Blood. I heard the screams. I searched for you afterward… believing that…" He shook his head. "I don’t understand any of this."

"I know," she replied quietly. "I saw you back then. But I couldn’t come to you yet… let’s say my body wasn’t ready."

The older woman continued to watch them in silence. The raven sat on her shoulder, black as night, calm and vigilant.

"Your mother," Radzig said, more a statement than a question, glancing at the woman.

Jana nodded.

"It was her who saved me. With magic. At a cost she never wanted to tell me about. But Martin… he had to stay."

Radzig swallowed hard.

"I…" he took another step forward. "I never wanted to leave you. You know that. Or Martin. I owe him more than I can ever repay."

"I know," she answered without hesitation. "And yet you left. I had no right to force you to stay. It hurt, Radzig, but I had to live with the reality the three of us chose for Henry’s sake."

Those words hurt more than any accusation.

"I was a fool," he said quietly, admitting it at last. "I thought it would be safer that way. For you. For the child. That from afar I could protect you. And instead, I led us all into hell."

Jana lowered her gaze.

"Skalitz burned…" she whispered. "I remember Martin trying to protect me… and Henry, who saw all of it. Pleased tell me that at least he…"

Radzig lifted his head.

"You didn’t lose Henry."

Hope flared instantly in her eyes.

"He’s alive?"

"He is," Radzig confirmed. "And he’s stronger than anyone could have imagined. He knows I’m his father." Shame pierced him as he said it. "I took care of him," he added quickly, afraid of losing her attention. "I watched over him. Protected him. I never wanted any harm to come to him. But now… his body has reverted to that of a three year old. He has memories and pain he can’t bear. He wakes up screaming. He cries. He doesn’t understand a world that suddenly overwhelms him. That’s why I’m looking for help to make him whole again. I don’t understand what happened."

Jana stepped closer. So close he could touch her.

"We must help our boy, Radzig," she said softly. "But… perhaps it isn’t fitting for a woman to say this… I never had the chance back then, but I love you. I always loved you. Despite everything. And because of that… what comes next will hurt." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I wanted to be a good wife and a good mother… but my heart bled for you. Martin was a good husband, but we never loved each other. Our hearts belonged elsewhere. I missed you terribly."

Radzig closed his eyes for a brief moment, then drew a deep breath.

"I… I love you too, Jana," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Will you give me another chance? For us to be together. You, me… and our son. Together. At last. Without secrets or schemes. Pleased don’t tell me you have to leave. Not again."

Jana held her breath, stunned, as if she had never expected to hear such words words unburdened by class, titles, or wealth.

"Radzig…" she whispered, as if testing whether she’d heard him correctly.

"Please, Jana," he whispered desperately. "I want to be with you and Henry. I want to protect you. I want to be the father our son needs. Nothing else matters to me. No rank. No title. I want only you. Only us."

As he stepped closer, his knees gave way. He fell to the ground before her, clutching at her hips. His shoulders shook with sobs. Tears streamed freely down his face.

"I’m sorry… I’m so terribly sorry," he choked out. "I was a fool. Power, money, titles they mattered more to me than my heart. Now… now I don’t want any of it. I’ll renounce everything, if only you’ll be with me. With Henry. Just us. Please… give me a chance. Don’t leave."

Jana stared down at him, shaken, as if his words had filled the entire clearing. The raven on her mother’s shoulder cawed softly, as though witnessing and approving.

Radzig squeezed his eyes shut, clinging to her, finally letting all the pain and longing spill out in tears.

Jana’s dark eyes widened in disbelief. She had never imagined a man like Radzig falling to his knees before an ordinary woman. His words lingered in the air like an echo that refused to fade.

"Radzig…" she began, her voice trembling. "I… I don’t know what to say."

Her hands rested on his shoulders, shaking. She was overwhelmed, disoriented unprepared for someone to so openly confess guilt, love, and helplessness.

"You truly loved me…" she whispered at last. "Despite everything… you truly loved me?"

"Yes!" Radzig burst out, his voice full of despair and hope all at once. "Always! And I still do! Nothing else matters to me. Only you and Henry." A quiet sob tore from his throat. "I want us to be together, even though I know I hurt you terribly."

Jana stepped back a pace, as the full weight of his words and his collapse finally reached her.

"Radzig…" she whispered. "All of this… it sounds like a miracle. After everything that happened… how can I trust you?"

"I’m not asking for trust right away," he replied, lifting his gaze, determination burning in his eyes. "Just give me a chance. Let me prove that I can protect you and our son. That I won’t repeat the mistakes of the past. That I’ll be who I should have been."

She remained silent for a moment, watching him. Her face was a mixture of doubt and pain but also warmth.

"If you’re telling the truth…" she began, her voice trembling. "If you truly love me and truly want to protect us… then…" She stepped toward him. "Then I’ll give you a chance."

Radzig didn’t hesitate. He sprang to his feet and pulled her into his arms, holding her tighter than ever before, with all the weight he had carried for years. Tears ran down his cheeks as his heart thundered in his chest.

Then he leaned down and kissed her gently, yet desperately pouring everything he’d been unable to say for years into that single gesture.

"Thank you…" Jana whispered, clinging to him. "Thank you for fighting for us… for Henry… and for me."

Radzig held her even closer, crying quietly, as if it were the only way to cleanse his soul.

"I will never leave you again," he said, his voice breaking. "Never. And if I must, I’ll give up everything I have titles, wealth, all of it. You and Henry will be my priority. Only you. I swear it. I’ll care for you as I should have years ago."

Jana returned the embrace, and the silence of the clearing filled with something more than night.

Hope.

The raven cawed low and calm, as if it knew their choice was the right one.

Radzig pulled back slightly, still holding her hands, and looked into her eyes.

"Will you truly… give me a chance?"

Jana met his gaze, her eyes shining in the moonlight.

"Yes," she said softly but firmly. "You have one chance, Radzig. One. Don’t waste it."

Radzig smiled through tears. It was a moment when everything could begin anew.

The silence was broken by the rustle of wings. The raven lifted from the older woman’s shoulder and circled above them, slicing through the night. Jana’s mother finally moved. Until now, she had stood motionless a shadow by the tree, a witness to happiness that echoed her own old pain.

"Enough," she said coldly.

Radzig stiffened. Jana flinched, as if only now remembering they were not alone.

The older woman stepped closer, her gaze sharp and hardened by years of suffering.

"I look at you, Radzig, and I see a man who has already broken my daughter’s heart once," she said slowly. "And I will not allow it to happen again."

She stopped directly in front of him. She was smaller, weaker yet he felt like a defendant standing before a judge.

"If you hurt her… if you make her cry because of you even once more…" She paused, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "I will make you beg for death. And then death will be a mercy denied to you. Even after it, you will know no peace."

Jana opened her mouth to protest, but Radzig was faster.

"I understand," he said quietly. "And I accept it."

He met the woman’s gaze without fear.

"If I fail, I will deserve nothing more."

For a long moment, they stared at each other in silence. Then Jana’s mother stepped back. The raven returned to her shoulder, and the night seemed to thicken around them.

"Remember my words. Jana, my love you know how you must help Henry. I believe in you, my daughter." She touched Jana’s cheek gently.

Jana nodded faintly.

And then… she was gone. 

As if she had never been there at all.

The forest closed around the clearing, and silence returned heavy and unsettling.

Only they remained.

Jana, trembling but alive.

Radzig, his heart pounding like after battle.

And the boy Paul’s son, Radzig’s nephew standing to the side, a silent witness to something far greater than himself.

"She was always like that," Jana whispered after a moment. "Protecting me… even when there was nothing left to protect."

Radzig wrapped an arm around her carefully, as if afraid everything might fall apart.

"This time, I won’t let you suffer," he said quietly. "I swear."

The boy glanced at them, then into the dark forest.

"If all this is true…" he said uncertainly. "Then… this is the strangest, most twisted thing I’ve ever seen with my own eyes."

Radzig nodded and let out a breath that was almost a laugh despite the tears. He wiped his face and slowly steadied himself.

They remained there Radzig, Jana, and the young man. The night was deep, the forest whispering secrets. Radzig moved to set up a small camp. The boy, wanting to give them privacy, efficiently prepared the tent and fire, then lay down to sleep, his calm breathing soon blending with the night wind.

Radzig and Jana sat close together by the fire. Flames cast their shadows across the trees, warmth mingling with the tension between them. They spoke in whispers.

Jana looked at Radzig carefully.

"And you…" she began softly. "What happened to you, Radzig?"

He drew her into his arms and stared into the fire before meeting her gaze, his eyes heavy with emotion.

"You know I never married. After what happened in Skalitz, we fled to Rattay to my friend Hanush and his nephew Hans. We had nowhere else to go." He sighed. "Jana, let me tell you everything but not now..."

Unable to hold back any longer, he leaned in and kissed her first gently, then deeper releasing years of longing, grief, and love. Jana didn’t pull away. Her soft laughter mingled with the night sounds, her eyes shining in the firelight.

When they finally parted, she smiled playfully.

"If this continues…" she murmured, touching his cheek, "we might give Henry a sibling."

Radzig smiled, feeling the pain ease, if only for a moment. In Jana’s arms, everything lost suddenly seemed possible again.

He held her close, his voice low and trembling.

"I never stopped loving you. And if you ever decide… that you might want another child… I would have no objection. I want you with me and Henry. Truly together."

Jana laughed softly.

"Maybe… this time it will be a sweet little girl."

Radzig felt his heart swell. Her words, her closeness everything else faded. Jana nestled fully against him, holding him tightly, as if embracing both their past and their future.

He pulled her closer, tears gathering again.

"I will never leave you again," he whispered into her hair. "You and Henry… are everything I have."

Jana rested her cheek against his shoulder, letting fear and pain drift away, if only for a moment. In Radzig’s arms, she felt safe. Free.

The fire crackled softly. The night seemed calmer, as if the forest itself had granted them a moment of peace after the storm.

Chapter Text

The road to Rattay passed faster than Radzig had expected. As if the horses themselves knew the way, and the tension of the night the fear and the magic had been left behind somewhere in the forest. Now there was only the pale morning light, the damp mist drifting over the valley, and the three of them.

Jana rode beside Radzig, wrapped in his cloak. She still looked as though the world might take her away again at any moment too quiet, too fragile yet undeniably alive. Real. When he glanced at her from the corner of his eye, she gave him a hesitant smile, as if she still couldn’t quite believe this was truly happening.

The boy kept slightly behind them. Silent, but clearly alert. Since that night, something in him had change as if he had suddenly realized that the world was bigger, more complicated… and more painful.

"Are you sure you don’t want to stop by your father’s house, Jaroslav?" Radzig broke the silence, slowing his horse to ride alongside the boy.

"I don’t want to see my father right now. It would end in one huge argument. I only just managed to get away some freedom won’t hurt me," he said with a faint smile. "Besides, we all want to reach Rattay as quickly as possible, don’t we?"

"I won’t lie I’d rather already be there," Radzig admitted, thinking out loud. "I wonder how Henry is doing."

"I’m curious myself," Jaroslav replied, glancing around as they emerged from the forest. "Is it much farther?"

At that, Radzig snorted with laughter.

"Such impatience."

"Oh, as if you weren’t the same at his age," Jana said, casting him a teasing look.

"Those were different times, Jana. Whose side are you on?" he scoffed, while the boy rolled his eyes.

"Yes, yes… everything was better back then," Jaroslav said dryly. "You sound just like my father, Uncle."

"Well, we are brothers after all… even if we’d probably kill each other if given the chance."

"Radzig," Jana snapped.

"I was only joking," he said, though the corner of his mouth lifted in a smile.

"I know that look of yours. And I know you weren’t joking."

"Women who can understand them?" Jaroslav laughed and urged his horse forward.

"We’ll see what you say when you have a wife of your own," Radzig shot back, nudging his horse to follow.

The ride was peaceful, and when they finally crossed the bridge leading into Rattay, with the sun slowly beginning to set, the relative calm was shattered.

Laughter.

Loud, childish laughter completely out of place against the castle walls.

Radzig frowned.

"What the..." he began, but didn’t finish.

The courtyard of Upper Castle was in utter chaos.

Henry was running as fast as his little legs could carry him, laughing so loudly that the sound echoed off the stone walls. His hair was a mess, his cheeks flushed red from exertion, and in his hand he clutched something that looked suspiciously like a wooden sword.

"You won’t catch me!" he squealed, barely able to breathe.

Hans was chasing after him.

Hans.

A grown man.

A broad-shouldered nobleman.

With a sword at his belt.

And very clearly having the time of his life.

"Come back here, you little rat!" Hans shouted, laughing openly. "Surrender, Henry!"

Henry shrieked with delight and swerved sharply, nearly colliding with one of the guards, who only shook his head.

Neither Henry nor Hans noticed anyone standing by the small bridge. That Radzig had entered the courtyard. That beside him sat a woman who should not have been in this world anymore.

Radzig reined in his horse.

He stared.

And his heart clenched so tightly that for a moment he couldn’t breathe.

"God…" he whispered. "He… he’s laughing."

Jana leaned forward slightly, staring at the boy as if she were afraid to blink.

"It’s him…" she said softly. "Our Henry."

As if to confirm it, Henry stumbled, fell to his knees and then burst into even louder laughter.

Hans stopped over him, theatrically bracing his hands on his knees.

"Do you surrender?" he asked.

"Nooo!" Henry sprang up like a coil and took off again.

"By the gods…" someone muttered from the side, emerging from the castle. Hanush did not look pleased.

He had the expression of a man who had run out of patience long ago. Arms crossed over his chest, heavy steps, eyes sharp as blades.

"I can understand Henry," he growled, watching the boy dart past him with a shriek of joy. "A child. Three years old. He has the right to run around like he’s possessed."

Then his gaze snapped to Hans, who was pretending to be barely standing.

"But you?" his voice rose. "You are a grown man, Hans! A knight! And you’re chasing each other around the courtyard like you’re three years old yourself!"

Hans stopped.

Only then did he notice that everyone was staring.

And that Radzig was sitting on a horse.

"Oh…" he said intelligently.

Henry stopped as well.

He looked at Hans. Then followed his gaze.

For a moment, his face went serious.

"Daddy?" he asked quietly.

Radzig dismounted faster than reason allowed, making sure Jana was steady first.

"Henry."

For a split second, the boy stood frozen. Then he ran, tossing the wooden sword aside.

"DADDY!"

He crashed into him with the full force of his small body, wrapping his arms around Radzig’s legs. Radzig dropped to his knees, caught him, and hugged him tightly.

"You were... " Henry stamped his little foot once he pulled back after the first burst of excitement. "You were gone a long time!"

"I know," Radzig said hoarsely. "I’m here now. I’m not leaving."

Henry pressed into him again, then suddenly pulled back, squinting.

"And who’s that?"

Radzig released Henry for a moment and helped Jana down from the horse. Her heart was racing wildly.

Radzig looked at her. Then at Henry.

Jana managed to say one word, quiet, almost trembling.

"Hello, my love…"

And then it happened.

The boy frowned. Tilted his head, as if trying to match her face to something buried deep inside him. A child’s memories are like dreams fragmented, uncertain, more feeling than image but suddenly something clicked.

He froze.

Completely.

As if the air had been cut from his lungs.

"You…" he whispered.

Radzig felt his heart climb into his throat.

He watched Henry take one step. Then another. His eyes were huge, shining, his lower lip beginning to tremble.

"No…" Henry said softly, almost afraid.

And before anyone could speak before Radzig, Jana, or Hanush could say a single word of explanation. 

Henry sucked in a sharp breath and screamed with all his strength, so loud it echoed off the castle walls.

"MAMAAAA!"

He ran straight into Jana, as if into something that had always been his, wrapped his small arms around her, and buried his face in her dress, as if afraid that if he let go, he would lose her again.

"Mama…" he sobbed. "Mama, you’re back… you’re back…"

Jana sank to her knees with him. She was shaking violently, holding him tight, one hand pressing his head against her chest.

"I am," she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion. "I’m here, sweetheart. I’m here."

A silence fell over the courtyard so deep that only the uneven breathing of the child could be heard.

Hans stood with his mouth open, having completely forgotten he was holding a sword. He looked at Hanush, then at Radzig.

"But…" he began, and stopped.

Hanush himself seemed lost.

"But… she died in Skalitz," he said quietly.

Radzig didn’t answer right away. He only looked at Jana and Henry at an image that had been impossible to him just two months earlier.

"It’s complicated," he whispered, his gaze returning to them.

He lowered himself to their level again, and Henry wrapped his arms around both his parents at once.

Chapter Text

Radzig wrapped his arms around both of them, as if he wanted to keep that image only for himself, to seal it off from the entire world. Henry pressed into him without the slightest resistance, one hand still clutching Jana’s fingers tight, almost frantic, as if he were afraid that if he let go even for a moment, everything would shatter like a dream.

"Let’s go inside," Hanush said at last. Quieter than usual, without his customary commanding tone. "The courtyard is no place for… all this."

He didn’t need to finish. One glance around was enough. The whisper that rippled through the crowd. The frozen stares. A few survivors from Skalitz looked away, crossing themselves under their breath, as if afraid to look at something that challenged what they had believed for years that the woman was dead, and with her everything that belonged to the past.

"Come on, my son," Radzig whispered, lifting Henry into his arms.

"Mom too?" the boy asked immediately, reaching out toward Jana, already ready to grab her fingers again.

"Of course Mom is coming with us," Radzig replied with a faint smile, following Hanush and Hans.

Jana walked beside them, gently fixing Henry’s hair. His fringe kept falling into his eyes after all that running.

"You need a bath and some food," she murmured softly. "You look like you rolled around in the stables."

"Me and Mutt!" Henry squealed happily, wriggling in his father’s arms. "Doggy! Mutt!"

He shouted it almost straight into Radzig’s ear, and the dog as if he had been waiting for that appeared at once, nearly tangling under their feet.

"Mutt definitely needs a bath too, sweetheart," Jana sighed at the sight of the muddy paws. "But for now, the dog has to stay here. Inside he’d make a terrible mess."

"But, Mom…" Henry whined, his mouth twisting into a dramatic pout.

"No arguing, Henry."

Jana smoothly took the boy from Radzig’s arms. She did it so naturally, so confidently, that Radzig froze for a moment, startled by how instinctively she cared for him.

As she carried Henry up the stairs, he immediately reached one hand back toward his father.

"Dad, help! Not water!" he squealed desperately, before disappearing with his mother behind the chamber door.

Radzig sighed softly, amused, noticing the expressions of several nobles nearby.

"I’m afraid I don’t possess that kind of power," he muttered. "Yes… Jana can be very firm."

"You know we’ll have to talk," Hanush said sharply, looking at him. "About what is actually happening here. And about that woman..."

"Jana?" Radzig raised an eyebrow. "What do you want from my woman?"

"Radzig, for God’s sake… I understand many things, but you can’t..."

"I can," Radzig cut him off harshly. "And I will. I know what this means, but I will not leave her or Henry. Not ever again."

"You are a respected man," Hanush hissed. "Think carefully."

"No." Radzig shook his head. "I’ve decided. Forgive me, but I need to join them. We’ll talk later."

And before anyone could add another word, he turned and followed Jana, leaving them standing there in stunned silence.

The chamber was quiet. The candle flame flickered softly, casting shadows along the walls, while from outside came the muffled murmur of the castle slowly preparing for night.

Radzig laid Henry down on the bed carefully. The boy didn’t protest, but he didn’t sleep either. He lay on his side, cheek pressed into the pillow, eyes half closed and heavy, as if every passing moment required effort.

"You’re not sleeping?" Jana asked softly, sitting beside him.

Henry shifted slightly and shook his head.

"No…" he mumbled. "Just… my legs hurt. And my tummy… and my head…"

It wasn’t a complaint. More a simple observation of a three year old who had played all day, laughed until he ran out of breath and now, suddenly… everything caught up with him.

Jana stroked his hair slowly, rhythmically.

"That’s normal," she said gently. "You ran all day, fought, laughed. And then…" she hesitated for a moment. "And then a lot of feelings came all at once."

Henry sighed heavily.

"When you were…" he began, but the words wouldn’t quite come together. "I was big." He frowned, confused. "And now… small. And tired… very." He yawned.

Radzig felt something tighten in his throat.

"It’s good that you’re small," he said, kneeling by the bed. "Little children are allowed to be tired."

Henry looked at him through heavy eyelids.

"But I liked being big…" he murmured. "Strong. And fast."

Jana smiled sadly.

"I know." She brushed her hand over his cheek. "But being big is very tiring. And being small… lets you rest."

The boy closed his eyes for a moment. Then opened them again, as if afraid that if he kept them shut too long, someone would disappear.

"Mom?" he asked suddenly.

"I’m here."

"Dad?"

"I’m here."

Only then did the tension truly leave him. As if some invisible knot that had held him upright all day finally loosened. Henry’s shoulders sank, his hands relaxed atop the blanket.

"Don’t go," he whispered.

Without a word, Radzig sat down on the bed on the other side. Jana lay down beside their son not fully, just enough for him to feel her warmth.

"We’ll stay with you," Radzig said quietly.

Henry let out one last long breath, the breath of someone who had finally stopped being on guard. He wasn’t asleep yet, but his eyes were closing on their own.

"Tomorrow…" he murmured. "Tomorrow can I be… big again?"

Jana looked at Radzig.

"Tomorrow we’ll try," she replied gently. "Today is enough."

The boy nodded almost imperceptibly. His fingers curled into a piece of Radzig’s shirt.

He didn’t have to fight. The candle on the table burned low, its light trembling on the walls. Henry lay between them, tucked up to his chin. He didn’t sleep deeply his breathing was uneven, sometimes restless, as if sleep still didn’t quite trust him.

Jana sat leaning against the headboard, one hand stroking her son’s hair, the other resting motionless on the blanket. Radzig sat beside them, elbows on his knees, head bowed.

"Tomorrow…" he said at last, quietly. "Tomorrow, if all goes well, Henry will return to his proper age. You’ll help him, won’t you?"

Jana nodded.

"Yes. He’ll be tired. Maybe confused for a while." She looked at the boy. "A child shouldn’t remember such things. I’ll try to make sure the magic leaves as few traces as possible."

Radzig exhaled heavily.

"And then we’ll have to talk to Hanush and Hans," he sighed. "He already cornered me on the stairs. I told him I choose you. He has time to think about my decision." The corner of his mouth lifted without a smile. "We’ll have to explain what happened. What didn’t. And what we actually intend to do next."

Jana studied him carefully.

"And what do we intend to do next, Radzig?"

He was silent for a moment. Longer than was comfortable.

"If Henry comes back to himself… if everything works…" he stopped, as if afraid to say the words aloud. "I won’t let anyone take you from me again. Not the world. Not politics. Not fear."

Jana drew a quiet breath.

"You know what they’ll say," she whispered. "That I’m not a noblewoman. That this is over. That it’s dangerous. That..."

"I know," he interrupted. "I’ve heard it once. And twice. And three times. And today from Hanush." He looked at her. "And every time it was the same lie dressed up in clever words."

He shifted closer, careful not to wake Henry.

"Hanush is angry," he added more quietly. "He’ll shout that I’m risking my name. That it’s politics. Alliances…"

Silence followed. The kind where only a child’s breathing can be heard.

Suddenly, Radzig stood.

Jana looked at him, surprised, but before she could ask, he knelt before her. Slowly. Carefully. As if afraid one wrong movement might frighten this moment away.

He took her hand. Warm. Trembling.

"Jana…" he said softly.

Her heart began to pound. Too fast.

"Radzig…?"

"I know this isn’t the perfect moment," he said with a crooked smile. "We’re tired. Afraid. Tomorrow everything might change."

He lifted his gaze to her. His eyes were open, honest. Without the mask he wore for everyone else.

"But if tomorrow Henry wakes up still a child…" he swallowed. "I want him to know that his parents chose each other. Consciously. For better or worse."

He tightened his grip on her hand.

"Will you marry me?"

For a moment, the world vanished.

Jana felt tears gather beneath her lashes. She covered her mouth with her free hand, trying to steady herself.

"You didn’t even ask if I’m afraid," she whispered.

"I’m afraid with you," he answered without hesitation. "But not without you."

She looked at Henry. At the peaceful face of a child who could finally rest.

Then back at Radzig.

"Yes," she said softly. "Yes, Radzig."

She didn’t shout. She didn’t laugh. She simply leaned forward and drew him to her, cradling his face in her hands.

He kissed her gently. Carefully. As if they were both afraid of waking not only the child… but happiness itself.

And Henry stirred slightly in his sleep and murmured quietly,

"Mom… Dad…"

Jana and Radzig froze.

Then they looked at each other and smiled in silence.

Tomorrow would come.

But tonight they were a family...

Chapter Text

Morning arrived shyly.Without fanfare, without bells, without haste.

Light slipped into the chamber through a narrow gap in the window, brushing over the bedding and faces as if testing whether it was allowed to stay. The candle had long since burned out, and the night had given way to clarity.

Henry stirred first.

He murmured something in his sleep, stretched as if his small body were heavy with yesterday’s emotions. His nose wrinkled, then his brows, and finally he opened his eyes slowly.

For a moment, he simply lay there. He felt warmth. On both sides. Something was different.

He turned his head to the left. 

Radzig slept lightly, one arm extended toward him, as if even in sleep he was making sure his son didn’t vanish. His beard was unshaven, his face tired… and calm. A kind of calm Henry hadn’t seen on him in a very long time.

The boy blinked. Then he turned his head to the right.

Jana.

Her hair was spread across the pillow, her face soft and relaxed. Their hands were intertwined on the blanket, right where Henry lay.

Henry sucked in a sharp breath.

“Mom…?” he whispered, afraid it was just a dream and that if he woke fully, everything would disappear.

Jana moved instantly. As if her body knew that whisper better than any sound.

She opened her eyes.

For a fraction of a second she only looked at him, as if afraid to breathe. Then she smiled wide, warm, with that something in her eyes that makes the world stop being frightening.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

Henry sat up abruptly.

“You… you’re...” He broke off, as if he didn’t know which word to use. “You’re really here?”

Radzig woke as well. He propped himself up on one elbow, looked at them, and immediately understood.

“She is,” he said quietly, still half-asleep. “And she’s not going anywhere.”

Henry looked at his father. Then back at Jana.

“Can I…?” he asked uncertainly, picking at the blanket.

Jana didn’t answer with words. She simply opened her arms.

Henry threw himself into them without hesitation, pressing his whole body against her as if trying to memorize every scent, every touch. Jana wrapped her arms around him tightly, pressing her cheek to his hair.

“I dreamed you weren’t there,” he murmured softly. “That I was alone.”

“That was just a bad dream, darling,” she replied gently. “You’re not alone.”

Radzig moved closer and wrapped one arm around both of them. Henry ended up exactly between them as if it were the most obvious and safest place in the world.

“Dad…” The boy lifted his head. “You’re real too, right?”

“Unfortunately,” Radzig smiled crookedly. “And from early morning at that.”

He buried his face in the pillow with a yawn.

Henry snorted with laughter. Short, still a little uncertainly but real.

“That’s good,” he said, lying back down. “Because I’m tired.”

“No wonder,” Jana stroked his back. “Yesterday was a very long day.”

“But a nice one,” he murmured, closing his eyes. “The nicest.”

Radzig looked at Jana over their son’s head. Their gazes met in silence.

Without words.

Henry yawned widely.

“Can I… sleep some more?”

“You can,” they answered at the same time.

He smiled sleepily.

And he fell asleep again peacefully, without fear between mom and dad, exactly where he had always belonged.

And they lay still, unwilling to waste even a single heartbeat of the moment.

Jana remained motionless for a while, listening to Henry’s steady breathing. Only when she was sure he had truly drifted off again did she lift her head slightly and glance at Radzig. A smile lingered at the corner of her mouth. Playful. Warm.

“You know…” she whispered, barely moving her lips. “Little Henry really isn’t that bad to sleep between us.”

Radzig raised an eyebrow carefully, so as not to disturb their son.

“Oh?”

“Well, think about it,” she continued quietly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Warm, light, cuddled in… it’s actually quite sweet.”

She hesitated for a split second, then added in a whisper completely shameless now.

“But if there were another grown man lying here… that would be rather strange.”

Radzig stiffened for a moment. Then he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

“Jana…” he murmured warningly, though sparks danced in his eyes. “You’ll wake him.”

“Relax,” she replied innocently. “Just an honest observation.”

He looked at the sleeping Henry, then back at her.

“I admit,” he whispered. “It wouldn’t be very comfortable.”

He added this while reaching out to wrap a strand of her hair around his finger.

Jana laughed silently, pressing her cheek into the pillow.

“See?” she murmured. “Everything has its limits.”

Radzig gently squeezed her hand as he released her hair.

“But this…” He glanced at the child between them. “This is exactly how it should be.”

Jana closed her eyes, smiling softly.

“That’s why I’m joking,” she whispered. “Because for the first time in a very long while… things are normal. And good.”

She opened one eye and saw the thoughtful look on his face. “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m imagining you in a gown, with a wreath in your hair, when the time for a wedding comes.”

He smiled as a faint blush crept across her cheeks.

“I was more expecting you to say without the gown,” she narrowed her eyes, watching him turn slightly red this time.

“Jana… not in front of the child,” he snorted, rolling his eyes.

“It’s not like our son doesn’t do that with women, Radzig. He probably knows how it works,” she giggled.

Henry stirred lightly, murmured something unintelligible, and snuggled even closer to them both.

Radzig and Jana froze at the same time.

After a moment, they looked at each other and silently agreed on one thing: they weren’t moving. Not even a step.

They didn’t leave the chamber.

Not in the morning. Not later.

Time seemed to dissolve between the heavy curtains, the soft bedding, and the warmth of three bodies that had finally found exactly where they belonged.

Henry woke slowly. Without fear. Without the sudden jolt of a dream breaking apart. First he wiggled his fingers, then stretched like a small cat, and finally lifted his head, looking around with that serious, childlike focus.

“Dad…” he murmured, as if checking whether it was still true.

“I’m here,” Radzig answered immediately, calm and quiet.

“Mom…”

“I’m here too,” Jana added, brushing her nose against his hair.

They lay like that for a long time. Henry between them, his back resting against Radzig’s chest, his legs tangled in Jana’s dress. The sun was already high when Radzig reached for the thin book lying on the bedside table the one he had found before his departure.

“A story,” Henry announced solemnly. “One with a knight. And a dragon. And the dragon has to lose.”

“Of course it loses,” Radzig snorted softly. “Otherwise it would be a terrible story.”

Jana glanced at him, amused.

“You’ll have to teach me how to read,” she murmured without embarrassment. “But I like it when you read.”

Radzig smiled to himself and opened the book. He read slowly, low, so the words weren’t just sounds but images. Henry listened with wide eyes, interrupting now and then with questions, correcting details.

“No, the dragon was supposed to be bigger. Like… this big! Rawr!” He spread his arms as only a toddler could. “And the knight couldn’t be scared,” he added firmly.

“No one was scared,” Radzig promised. “He was a very brave knight.”

When the story ended, a calm silence settled. One that wasn’t empty.

And then the chamber door creaked open.

Hanush stepped in decisively… and immediately slowed.

Because all three pairs of eyes looked at him at once from the bed.

Henry first. 

“Uncle Hanush,” he announced proudly.

Jana raised an eyebrow. Radzig looked at him with that calm, slightly too-attentive expression.

Hanush cleared his throat.

“I see that…” he hesitated. “I’m interrupting.”

“No,” Radzig replied calmly. “But I suppose you didn’t expect this view.”

“No,” Hanush admitted honestly. “Definitely not.”

He adjusted his belt, glanced aside, then back at them.

“We need to talk regardless and preferably now,” he sighed, then added a moment later, “Hans will take care of Henry. Who would’ve thought he’d make such a good caretaker.”

“Ans!” Hal squealed and scrambled out of bed at once.

Nothing mattered to him after hearing that Hans was waiting. He rushed past Hanush and straight into the arms of the young man standing by the door.

“Will we play? Knight and dragon!”

He didn’t get to finish, because his mother was already beside them.

“Easy, sweetheart,” she adjusted his hair. “Sir Hans… don’t tire him out. I’ll need him fully operational this evening.”

She smiled.

“Of course,” Hans murmured, his smile widening as he connected the dots. His Henry would be an adult again… He wouldn’t say how much he’d missed him. Especially their intoxicating nights.

When Hans disappeared from sight and Hanush closed the door behind them more quietly than usual it was meaningful in itself. He normally shut doors decisively, with a clear message: I am the lord of this place. Now, however, it was as if he didn’t want to disturb what he had found.

He stood by the wall for a moment, hands clasped behind his back, studying them closely.

Radzig rose from the bed, and Jana stepped to stand beside him upright, calm, though beneath that calm surface lingered alertness. Both fully dressed, close to each other, as if they had silently agreed on a shared front.

Henry was gone. His absence still hung in the air.

“So…” Hanush cleared his throat. “It seems the rumors in the courtyard weren’t quite as exaggerated as I’d hoped.”

He nodded toward their hands.

“That depends which ones,” Radzig replied evenly. “If the ones about ghosts and miracles perhaps. If the ones about Jana and me… those were an understatement.”

Hanush snorted softly, but there was no amusement in his eyes.

“Radzig,” he began, heavily emphasizing the name. “We’ve known each other a long time. We’ve been through more together than most people in this kingdom. That’s why I’ll say this plainly. What you’re doing… is dangerous.”

Jana shifted, but Radzig gently touched her hand, signaling he wanted to speak first.

“It was dangerous to leave her alone back then,” he said quietly. “Dangerous to pretend she didn’t exist. This...” he gestured to the space between himself and Jana, “this is the only thing that’s finally honest.”

Hanush looked at Jana. For a long time. Carefully.

“I don’t want to offend you,” he said at last, slower. “And I’d prefer you understood that. But we’ve been through this once already. Skalica. Rumors. Blood. Flight. A death everyone accepted as certain.”

“I accepted it too,” Jana replied calmly. “Every single day.”

That threw him off. For a moment, he had no ready retort.

“Radzig is a lord. A nobleman. He has a name, a position, obligations,” he continued. “And you…” He hesitated. “You are not a noblewoman.”

“No,” she agreed without hesitation. “And I’ve never claimed to be.”

Hanush sighed, irritated.

“That’s exactly my point. The world isn’t fair. And it certainly isn’t gentle with stories like this.”

Radzig took a step forward. Slowly. Without anger but with that particular firmness that always meant the decision had already been made.

“Hanush,” he said low. “If this is meant to be a conversation about whether I’ll choose her… then it’s about nineteen years too late.”

“Radzig”

“I’m not finished.” He looked him straight in the eye. “I’ve touched no other woman. I didn’t marry. I didn’t build a life because my entire life was here.”

He placed a hand on his chest. “And Henry is not a mistake. He’s the one thing I did right.”

Hanush opened his mouth… and closed it again.

“You mean to say…” he began cautiously. “That you intend to”

“Yes,” Radzig didn’t let him finish. “We’re getting married.”

Silence fell.

Heavy. Dense. Like the air before a storm.

Hanush took a step back. Then another. He reached for the goblet of wine on the table as if he suddenly needed it, lifted it… and choked, coughing violently.

“For God’s sake, Radzig!” he finally spluttered. “You say that like you’re announcing you’re changing horses!”

“Because it’s simple,” Radzig replied calmly. “Everything else was a lie.”

Hanush wiped his mouth with his sleeve and looked at Jana.

“And you?” he asked sharply. “Do you know what you’re stepping into? That they’ll talk? That they’ll stare? That every mistake will be blamed on you?”

Jana straightened. Not abruptly. She simply stood and positioned herself beside Radzig.

“I know,” she said quietly. “But I already died to this world once. A second time doesn’t frighten me.”

Radzig interlaced his fingers with hers. Openly. Without hiding.

Hanush watched them for a long time. A very long time. Then… he let out a short laugh.

“Damn it,” he muttered. “I know you, Radzig. And I know one thing.”

He looked up at him.

“You’ve already thought this through.”

Radzig lifted one corner of his mouth. Just slightly.

“Perhaps.”

“And of course you don’t intend to share it yet.”

“Not yet.”

Hanush shook his head, but this time there was no anger in his gaze. More like resignation mixed with amusement.

“We’ll have to throw a wedding,” he muttered. “In Rattay. If I’m going to watch you break every rule, it might as well be done properly.”

He turned toward the door.

“I’ll give you time,” he added more quietly. “But don’t think the world has suddenly changed. I’ll defend you… for as long as I can.”

He paused.

“And Radzig?”

“Yes?”

“You’d better be right.”

Radzig looked at Jana. At the calm in her eyes. At the way she stood beside him not half a step behind.

“I am,” he answered without hesitation.

Hanush left, closing the door behind him.

And silence returned to the chamber.

Lighter.

As if something heavy had finally found its place...

Chapter Text

The door closed softly.

Not with a bang. Not demonstratively. Radzig simply slid the bolt into place, as if he wanted to shut out not only the world… but everything that had ever stood between them.

For a moment, they stood in silence.

Just seconds ago, the chamber had been filled with words, decisions, heavy truths. Now it was suddenly too quiet. Too still. As if the air itself had thinned.

Jana turned toward him slowly.

“And now?” she asked under her breath.

Radzig didn’t answer at once. He stepped closer. Close enough for her to feel his warmth, the scent of leather mixed with something sharper tension he had been holding in for hours. Or perhaps for years.

“Now…” he said at last. “Now I no longer have to pretend.”

He raised his hand, hesitated for a fraction of a second as if still asking for permission without words and touched her cheek. Carefully. As if she were something fragile. As if she were someone he had already lost once.

Jana closed her eyes.

That single gesture was enough.

“Radzig…” she whispered, but the name broke on her lips as he leaned in and kissed her. At first lightly. Testing. As if making sure it was really happening.

She responded immediately.

The kiss wasn’t hurried. Nor was it innocent. It was filled with everything they had not been allowed to say aloud for years longing, relief, anger, joy. Their hands found their places on their own. Her fingers tangled in his hair. His hand slid down her back, pulling her closer.

“I thought I would never again…” he whispered against her heated mouth.

“I know,” she answered softly. “So did I.”

Their foreheads rested together. They breathed heavily, unevenly, as if only now their bodies remembered they were allowed to be one. Radzig’s hand settled on her hip.

“Are you sure?” she asked again, quieter now, more serious. “That this is what you want. That… you want me?”

Radzig took her hands and pressed them to his chest, where his heart beat strong and unwavering.

“There is no doubt here,” he said. “There never was.”

He stood before her, his broad chest rising and falling. He looked at her with that gaze Jana remembered from her boldest, forbidden dreams the gaze of a warrior who had taken a fortress and intended to devote every second to it.

“I still don’t believe you’re here,” he whispered, his voice rough, saturated with years of restrained need. “That I can touch you.”

His hands hard, scarred-rose. He didn’t embrace her immediately. First, his fingertips traced her temple, then followed the line of her jaw, as if testing the reality of this miracle. The touch was both gentle and unmistakably possessive. It was the beginning of a claiming.

“I don’t believe it either,” Jana replied, her voice trembling. “For all these years… I thought only of this. Of your hands.”

That sentence was like a spark thrown into powder.

Radzig growled low, animalistic, and dragged her against him. His mouth crashed into hers not in a kiss, but in conquest. He was hungry, impatient, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth, desperate for a taste he had lost. Every restraint snapped. His hands wrapped around her in one decisive motion, pressing her hard against his body. Jana felt through the fabric the hard, burning outline of his arousal, already fully ready, pressed against her lower belly. A moan tore from her throat pure, physical relief.

“The dress,” Radzig growled, tearing his mouth away briefly. “Take it off. Or I will tear it.”

“It’s my favorite dress, Radzig,” she said, tipping her head back as he kissed her throat.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he whispered, kissing just beneath her jaw.

Jana’s hands, shaky with emotion, reached for the fastenings. Radzig didn’t wait. He didn’t want to wait any longer. He had fasted all these years. He grabbed the fabric at her neckline and tore. The sound of ripping linen filled the room. Jana flinched and then her shoulders relaxed as cool air brushed her bare breasts. She stood before him, breathing fast, her full, mature breasts rising with every breath, dark nipples hardened by arousal and cold.

“Gods, Jana…” Radzig groaned, his gaze burning with dark fire. It was so intense it almost scorched her skin. “You are beautiful. And you are mine.”

He bent his head and took one of her nipples into his mouth. It wasn’t a lover’s gentle suck it was the hungry taking of a man quenching thirst. His tongue circled fiercely, his teeth grazing. Pain sharp and sweet merged with a wave of pleasure that poured straight into her belly and between her legs. His other hand kneaded her second breast, fingers digging into soft, yielding weight.

“Radzig… yes…,” she moaned, her fingers clutching his short-cropped hair, pressing him closer. “Don’t stop…”

He had no intention of stopping. His hand left her breast and slid down, fingers finding her hot, already slick sex.

“Already ready for me,” he growled triumphantly against her nipple. His middle finger slid between her folds, bypassing her clit and plunging straight into her warm, rounded depths.

Jana cried out, her body arching. It was sudden, unceremonious and perfectly matched her own wild need. His finger thrust deep, and his thumb began pressing and circling her clit.

She had to throw her arms around him to steady herself. Her legs trembled; she feared she might collapse from the intensity.

“Yes… just like that…,” she hissed, her hips beginning to move with the rhythm of his finger soon joined by a second. He stretched her, filled her, claimed his right. His movements were firm, impatient, wet with the sounds of her body.

“I can’t… wait anymore,” Radzig snarled, withdrawing his slick fingers. He grabbed her hips and turned her, pressing her front against the wooden bedframe. “Stand. And bend.”

His voice allowed no refusal. Jana, trembling head to toe, obeyed, bracing her hands against the cool wood. She felt his gaze burning over her naked backside. She heard him loosen his belt, his trousers dropping to the floor.

Then she felt it. Hard. Hot. Swollen with desire. The head of his cock brushing her folds, parting her, preparing her.

“Radzig, please…,” she begged, pushing her hips back, meeting his resistance.

There were no more words.

With one crushing thrust, his entire length drove into her, tearing into her slick, tight body.

“Aaaagh!” Jana’s cry was raw, choked, full of shock and ecstasy. He was inside her. All of him. Filling her as no man ever had occupying every inch, stretching her from within. Pain and pleasure fused into a feeling of absolute completion.

Radzig froze for a moment, buried to the hilt, his hands digging into her hips. He felt her trembling, pulsing around him.

“Jana… mine…,” he growled, and then he began to move.

It wasn’t a rocking motion. It was an assault. Hard, deep, rhythmic thrusts, driving into her as if trying to reclaim all the lost years at once. The wooden bedframe creaked in time with their joining. The sound of their bodies wet, obscene filled the chamber.

Jana gasped with each thrust, every breath broken by another deep invasion. One of his hands left her hip and slid under her, grabbing her breast again, pinching and kneading her nipple in time with his furious pace.

“Do you feel it?” he whispered into her ear. “Do you feel how I take you? How you are mine? Forever!”

“Yes! Yours!” she howled back, her awareness dissolving into a sea of pure, animal pleasure. “Never again… let me go…”

His movements became faster, more desperate. She felt the tension building in him. She herself was on the edge, every nerve drawn tight like a string ready to snap.

“Radzig… I’m...,” she moaned in warning, but he was already past control.

“Together,” he growled commandingly and drove into her as deeply as he could.

That was enough.

The orgasm tore through Jana from the inside, waves of white-hot pleasure flooding every part of her existence. She screamed, her body jerking wildly, her inner walls clenching convulsively around him.

That triggered his own release. With a roar that sounded like triumph and agony combined, Radzig slammed into her one final, devastating time and froze. She felt his cock pulse deep inside her, felt the hot rush of his semen filling her, marking her. It spilled down her thighs, warm and abundant.

For long moments they stayed like that, tangled together, both breathing hard, slick with sweat. The weight of his body against her back was the most satisfying burden she had ever borne.

At last, when their breathing had somewhat steadied, Radzig withdrew gently, almost tenderly. He turned her in his arms and pulled her against him, face to face. His eyes wild moments before were now soft, filled with something close to disbelief.

Jana, still trembling, leaned into his sweat-damp chest, listening to the thunder of his heart. In the safe harbor of his arms, with his semen still warm inside her, she dared to voice the words she had carried in her heart.

“Radzig…” she began quietly, her fingers tracing circles on his chest. “What if… now… after this… I truly carry your child again?”

Radzig didn’t answer immediately. His gaze dropped from her lips to her belly, which he held close. There was no surprise in his eyes. No panic. Only deep, masculine satisfaction and something more. A primal pride.

“I have no objection to seeing you pregnant, my dear,” he said, his smile widening even further.

Chapter Text

His smile said everything, yet the words came anyway. Low. Steady. Without a shred of doubt.

"If you’re carrying my child, I’ll be the happiest man under the sun. I’d give you ten."

Something inside Jana cracked at that and fused back together all at once. Fear dissolved, swept away by a heat so fierce, so raw, that her body trembled in his arms. She answered him not with words, but with action. She pulled him down by the neck, their mouths colliding again, but this time the kiss was hungry, grateful, heavy with promise.

"Then don’t let’s waste time," she whispered against his lips, her hands sliding over his broad back, down to his ass. "Someone has to have siblings eventually."

She giggled softly.

Radzig growled in approval. His arms wrapped around her and lifted her as easily as he would lift a sword. The steps that carried them back to the bed were decisive. He didn’t throw her onto it he laid her down, with a carefulness that stood in stark contrast to the wild gleam in his eyes.

Her body sank into the soft mattress. He stood over her, studying her like a conqueror surveying his prize. Firelight from the hearth danced across his muscular frame, tracing every taut muscle, every scar. He looked like a living monument to desire.

"This time, I want to see your face when I take you," he said, his voice dark with intent. "Every flicker. Every break of pleasure. But first…"

He didn’t finish.

Instead, he knelt between her parted legs. His large, warm hands slid along her thighs and spread them wider, leaving her utterly exposed to his gaze. Heat rushed to Jana’s cheeks shame tangled with arousal but she didn’t try to hide. She watched him watching her. Watched hunger blaze in his eyes.

"You’re beautiful here," he growled, his fingers brushing her most intimate place, sending a violent shudder through her belly. "And completely mine."

He lifted her legs by the knees, opening her even more. One hand braced beside her head; the other guided himself forward. The tip of his cock hot, hard again pressed against her oversensitive entrance. She was so wet he slid in without resistance, though his size still stole her breath, even after what they’d already shared.

He pushed in.

Slowly this time. Inch by inch. Letting her feel every bit of his thickness, every pulse. Jana stared at his face saw his jaw tighten, his eyes cloud with pleasure. When he was buried to the hilt, he stopped. They lay joined fully, belly to belly, his weight deliciously heavy on her.

"Jana…" he whispered, his breath mingling with hers. "I love you."

"Radzig…" she breathed, her hands gripping his broad shoulders. "I love you too."

Then their mouths met.

That was all the permission he needed.

He began to move deep, complete thrusts. No frenzy now. Every withdrawal nearly total, every return devastatingly full. Each time his hips met her body, brushed her swollen clit, she moaned softly. He watched her face closely, intent on every reaction.

"Deeper…" she begged before she could stop herself, heels digging into his ass, pulling him closer.

That wild, confident smile curved his lips. He shifted, lifting her hips and sliding a pillow beneath her. Then he drove into her again.

The next thrust hit something deep inside her. Her eyes flew wide, mouth opening in a silent cry.

"Oh God..."

"Here?" he asked, thrusting into the same spot again. And again.

She could only nod, tears of pleasure gathering at the corners of her eyes. He saw them. Used them. His rhythm grew firmer, sharper, yet still perfectly precise. The sound of them wet, intimate, obscene filled the room. Her moans tangled with his low growls.

Another wave gathered inside her, faster and stronger than before. Her body, already spent once, answered with doubled hunger. Her nails raked his back.

"Radzig… again… I’m..."

"Soon," he murmured, voice thick with promise. "But not like this."

Suddenly he stopped.

He withdrew, and Jana whimpered at the sudden emptiness. But he didn’t pause for long. His hands slid beneath her arms, lifting and turning her midair until she found herself straddling him. He leaned back against the headboard, one hand gripping himself.

"Now," he growled, hands locking onto her hips, fingers digging into her flesh. "You ride. Take all of me."

Breathless, eyes wide with surprise and arousal, Jana looked down. Her body poised above his powerful torso. His hands holding her fast. His thick, swollen cock waiting for her. The position handed her control depth, rhythm but his gaze, dark and commanding, challenged her.

Show me how badly you want me.

She exhaled and reached between them, wrapping her hand around him. He was hot, pulsing, alive beneath her fingers. She guided him to her entrance, still slick and aching. The tip parted her, pressed into her warmth.

"Aaah…" she moaned as she began to lower herself.

It was slow. Crushing. Inch by inch, letting his girth stretch her open completely. Her head fell back, dark hair brushing his thighs. She felt every vein, every throb. When she finally sank fully onto him, his pelvis pressed against her, and she released a long, shaking breath.

Radzig growled in satisfaction, fingers digging deeper into her hips.

"That’s it, my Jana. Show me how you ride."

He laughed and slapped her ass.

"Well… the name does come with expectations," she managed to laugh despite everything.

Fire sparked inside her.

She braced her hands on his chest and lifted herself slowly, letting him slip almost free just the tip remaining. Her body resisted letting him go. Then she dropped back down hard.

"Yes," he hissed.

She began to ride him. Awkward at first, searching for rhythm then instinct took over. Her hips moved faster, rougher. No grace. Just raw, desperate need. Every time she dropped, she took him fully. Every lift dragged him across places inside her that sent sparks through her spine.

"Harder," Radzig growled, helping her, lifting and pulling her down with force. "Use me. Take whatever you want."

She cried out and obeyed. Rode him with feral determination. Her breasts bounced wildly, nipples dark and aching. Sweat slid down her back, between her ass, mingling with their shared wetness. She saw his face twisted in ecstasy, eyes burning with worship.

Now he was hers. Her instrument. And the reversal made it intoxicating.

"Do you feel it?" she gasped. "Feel how I’m devouring you from the inside?"

"Yes" he groaned, hands leaving her hips to seize her breasts, squeezing hard, twisting her nipples. Pain flashed then melted into pleasure.

Her pace broke aparat fast, erratic, unstoppable. The sounds were obscene. The bed creaked violently.

"Radzig… I’m..."

"Look at me," he commanded, holding her still while fully buried inside her.

She forced her eyes open.

"Say it," he ordered, breath ragged. "Say you want my child. Now. Out loud."

The words tore free of her, raw and desperate.

"I want it!" she cried. "I want your child, Radzig!"

Tears spilled freely now.

His smile was wild, triumphant.

"Then take it."

He released her.

She collapsed into motion, riding him through the final frenzy. Short, brutal movements. Radzig met every fall, thrusting up with punishing precision. Pleasure shattered her completely. She screamed, long and hoarse, body locking before breaking into violent waves. Her body clenched around him, squeezing hard.

With a roar, Radzig drove into her one last time and froze. She felt him pulse deep inside her, hot and filling her again, marking her completely.

They stayed that way, tangled, shaking, breathless. Finally her strength gave out and she collapsed against his chest, face buried in his neck, heart pounding against his skin.

His hands gentle now stroked her back and hair.

"And well…" he murmured after a long moment, voice rough. "If there wasn’t a child before… then now one must be beginning."

Hope lingered in his words.

Only time and God would decide...

Chapter Text

Henry ran with all the strength his little legs could muster back to his parents’ room. How could he have forgotten his toy? He told Hans to wait outside, that he could manage on his own, but when he turned around, the young noble was following him, moving with quiet but firm steps.

"Ans, I can manage," he groaned, annoyed to be so closely watched.

Hans didn’t slow down, his eyes fixed sharply on the boy.

"I’d rather follow you… That Jaroslav fellow doesn’t sit right with me," Hans muttered, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting someone to be trailing them.

Henry stopped abruptly.

"Uncle?" he asked, frowning. "Why?"

Hans hesitated for a moment, as if weighing his words.

"He’s… strange, Hal. Moves too much. Watches too much. And he watches you especially."

"He wants… wants to…" Henry tried to put the thought into words, but his tongue betrayed him.

"I don’t know," Hans sighed. "But it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on him. Even you, when you’re grown, would watch him."

They were about to turn into a narrow corridor when suddenly one of Radzig’s men appeared before them. His face was red, his gaze evasive, as if caught doing something very improper.

"Sir Hans…" he hissed. "I wouldn’t go that way… with young Henry."

Hans narrowed his eyes.

"Why?"

The man leaned in and whispered something in his ear. Hans felt his face flush instantly.

"Oh…" he muttered.

"Exactly," confirmed the guard with a heavy sigh.

"Couldn’t they wait until night?" Hans rolled his eyes, then looked at the boy. "Henry, I’m afraid you’ll have to manage without your toy for now. Your parents are… very busy."

"What are they doing?" Henry’s eyes lit up immediately, curiosity burning in him.

The guard almost ran off, stifling a laugh, and at that moment, a cry pierced through the door Jana’s voice. High-pitched. Sharp. Terrifying to a child’s ear.

Henry froze.

"Mom…?" he whispered.

The second cry was even louder. Hans paled.

"No," he said quickly, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. "No, Henry. Everything’s fine."

"Dad’s hurting her!" the boy blurted out, his voice trembling.

Hans didn’t hesitate. He scooped Henry up in his arms and spun around sharply.

"Don’t look," he snapped. "It… it’s not what you think."

Henry clung to him tightly, his fingers digging into the fabric of Hans’ shirt.

"She was screaming…" he whispered, close to tears.

Hans quickened his pace, almost running toward the Upper Castle. Only at the stairs did he set him down and crouch to meet his eyes.

"I swear, Hal, your mom is fine," he said, lightly placing a hand on his shoulder.

"But… but she was screaming!" Henry squeaked, his lower lip trembling.

"Hans, why are you making the child cry?" Hanush called from the top of the stairs, confused.

"Because mom was screaming, and… and Ans didn’t!" Tears welled in the little boy’s eyes.

"What are you talking about?" Sapnal tried to make sense of it.

"Henry… Adults, sometimes when they’re alone… they can shout, but still be happy," Hans explained, glancing at Hanush, who took a moment to understand.

"My god, Radzig will kill you, I swear," Hanush muttered under his breath, beckoning them to follow him.

He sighed heavily, as if someone had just pushed him onto a minefield, when the doors to the hall closed behind them.

Hans set Henry on a bench and sat beside him.

"Adults," he said slowly, "sometimes show joy differently than children."

Henry frowned.

"You mean… by shouting?"

"Sometimes," Hans muttered, avoiding his gaze.

"Why can’t they be quiet?" he asked, still curious. "When I’m happy, I laugh."

Hanush rubbed his face with his hand.

"Not everything can be explained at once," he finally said. "But no one was hurting anyone. I swear. Your mom is fine."

Henry was silent for a moment, then asked quietly:

"Is dad angry?"

"No," Hanush answered immediately. "Your father… he’s very foolish sometimes, but not cruel."

Hans snorted at the statement, immediately suppressing it under his uncle’s gaze.

"I’ll talk to your father about this, Henry. You have my word."

"My… word?"

"I’ll just talk to him. For now, you can go play. And you, Hans, please, watch over him. That younger Kobyla fellow doesn’t sit right with me."

"Not just me then… I’ll watch him, uncle," Hans said, standing and taking Henry’s hand.

Hans gripped the boy’s small hand firmly, and they headed toward the courtyard. Henry glanced back once, making sure the castle walls were still where they should be.

"Ans…" he murmured after a moment. "Can I go there for a bit?" He pointed at a pile of wooden crates and barrels near the wall. "There’s a stick."

Hans looked that way. Just a plain corner of the courtyard. Nothing remarkable. A few of Radzig’s men were nearby; one carried a sack of grain, another was leading a horse out of the stable.

"For a moment," he agreed finally, "but don’t disappear from my sight."

Henry ran a few steps further and crouched to the ground, digging through the dust between the stones. He found a stick, slightly crooked but good enough to pretend it was a sword. He swung it a few times, mumbling under his breath.

Hans turned only briefly literally just to breath when one of the knights called to him. And then someone appeared behind the boy.

"Hal…" a familiar voice said, soft, almost soothing. "What are you doing here alone?"

Henry jumped and turned with a smile.

"Uncle Jaroslav!"

He didn’t get a chance to say more. A hand clamped down on his shoulder with a force that stole his breath. Another pressed something to his mouth. A sharp, choking smell hit his nose and throat.

"Shh…" Jaroslav whispered by his ear. "Just for a moment."

Henry tried to scream. The world tilted, his knees buckled. The stick slipped from his fingers and clattered quietly against the stone.

Jaroslav caught him mid-fall before his body hit the ground. He wrapped him in his cloak, holding him to his chest like a sleeping child.

He quickly hid with him, seeing Hans starting to panic when Henry was nowhere to be seen. Sensing the moment, he slipped across the bridge toward Uzhitz. He adjusted Henry under the cloak and calmly walked to his horse. It had been wise to bring him out earlier.

Once in the saddle, with no one nearby and no one chasing, he adjusted the boy and headed toward Dvorce.

Henry slowly woke. First, he felt the rocking. Rhythmic, unfamiliar, completely unlike sleep. Then the cold the wind sneaking under the cloak, the smell of horse, sweat, and leather. Something hard under his cheek.

He opened his eyes. Darkness was torn with streaks of light. The moon. Trees moving too fast. The ground too far away for a child’s height. He wasn’t standing. He was riding.

"Ans…?" he murmured sleepily.

The hand holding him tightened.

"Quiet," a voice spoke just above him.

Henry froze. He lifted his head as much as the heavy cloak allowed and saw Jaroslav’s face. Sharp in the moonlight. Focused. No smile.

"Uncle…?" he whispered, his heart pounding so hard he could barely breathe.

Jaroslav didn’t look at him immediately.

"You were asleep," he said finally. "Better for you."

"Where… where’s Ans?" Henry tried to move, but his arms were pinned to the man.

"He stayed," Jaroslav replied calmly. Too calmly.

The horse snorted and accelerated, as if sensing the tension. Henry’s head spun.

"I want to go to mom," he whispered.

Jaroslav sighed heavily.

"Not possible for now," he muttered. "And you… you’re more important than you think."

Henry felt something tighten in his throat.

"Ans is looking for me," he said with childish certainty. "Dad too. And Uncle Hanush."

"They can look," Jaroslav cut him off.

That one word was enough. Henry began to struggle. Not much too small, too weak but enough to betray his fear.

"Let go!" he squealed. "Let me go!"

Jaroslav suddenly bent over and covered his mouth with his hand. Firmly, but not brutally, so he couldn’t scream.

"Shh," he hissed. "Just a little further. Then you can talk all you want… I can’t believe a common bastard… that he cares for you this much, and my own father… why isn’t he like that?"

Tears welled in Henry’s eyes.

"I want dad… please," he whispered, and tears streamed down his childish face.

"You’re my card… maybe my father will notice me at last," Jaroslav muttered, not even looking at the boy.

Henry closed his eyes, trembling. And for the first time truly, consciously he thought he might never go home again.

Chapter Text

Henry did not cry.

Not because he wasn’t afraid he was so afraid that fear lost its shape. He stopped screaming. It folded in on itself, like something sick and heavy, sinking deeper with every breath. It sat there, unmoving, pressing against his heart, his lungs, his throat, until breathing became shallow and careful, as if even the smallest sound might wake something terrible.

The horse slowed.

Henry felt it first. The rocking changed its rhythm no longer long and soft, but short, hard, jagged. There was no earth beneath the hooves anymore. There was stone. Wood. Something dead and cold.

The smell of smoke slipped into his nose.

Henry parted his eyelids.

Light.

Not like in Rattay there it had been warm, golden, full of sound, laughter, voices, the crackle of fire that meant safety. This light was pale. Spilled. Sharp. Torches cast long, unnatural shadows that crawled along the walls, bent and broke, as if something inside them lived. Like monsters from fairy tales the scarier ones his father never finished reading.

Henry drew in a breath and held it.

The gate.

Tall. Stone.

Not home.

Not Mama.

Not Papa.

His heart sped up so violently it hurt.

The horse passed beneath the archway, and the shadow poured over them like cold water. Henry shuddered and pressed closer into Jaroslav’s chest, instinctively seeking protection, even though even he no longer felt safe.

"There he is," a voice said from ahead.

Low. Dry. Without emotion.

Henry lifted his head.

A man stood by the gate, as if he had been waiting a long time. His cloak was heavy and dark, fastened high at the neck with an embroidered crest. His arms were folded across his chest. His face… familiar, yet foreign. There was something of Radzig in it the line of the jaw, the shape of the nosem but everything was sharper. Harder. As if someone had taken his father’s face and cut the warmth out of it.

His eyes were empty.

"You took too long," the man said.

"I had to be careful," Jaroslav replied, sliding down from the horse without letting go of Henry. "The castle was… unsettled."

The man looked at the boy.

Henry felt that look like a touch. Too precise. Too attentive. Like someone peering under his skin.

"Is this him?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," Jaroslav nodded. "Radzig’s son."

Henry stiffened.

The words hit him heavily, as if they had suddenly become dangerous.

"So Radzig wasn’t lying," the man murmured. "He truly became a child."

The smile was brief. Crooked. It never reached his eyes.

"That only makes things easier. Better to wrestle a brat than a grown man."

Henry didn’t understand everything.

But he understood enough to know he was in very serious trouble.

"He really does have the flashes, Father," Jaroslav said more quietly. "But he can’t control them. This was the last moment. His mother was about to change him."

Henry felt Jaroslav adjust his cloak. The movement was both protective and… exposing. As if he didn’t know which side he stood on.

"Mother?" Paul snorted. "That wretched woman? Truly, my brother has dreadful taste. To touch something made for service and labor."

Jaroslav looked him straight in the eyes.

"She died in the attack on Skalitz," he said. "They told me themselves. Did you know, Father?"

Paul smiled slowly.

"Does it matter?" he replied. "But if she had magic enough to be reborn… then our little bastard has it too."

His gaze returned to Henry.

"So small. So unremarkable and so valuable."

Something stirred inside Henry. Like an echo. Like a memory that did not belong to a child.

Run. You have to run.

"I don’t want to be here," he whispered suddenly. "I want my dad."

Silence fell sharply.

Paul looked down at him slowly, with strange satisfaction, ignoring his own son.

"You look like him," he said at last. "This will be even more enjoyable than I thought. Give him to me."

Jaroslav froze.

"Father… at least let him rest. He’s still a child."

"Enough."

The yank was sudden.

Henry nearly fell. A heavy hand tore him from Jaroslav’s arms. The gate slammed shut behind them with a dull, metallic boom that echoed painfully in Henry’s chest.

"Mama…" he whispered.

No one answered, ignoring the boy’s mumbling.

Paul did not drag Henry.

There was no rush in it, no immediate brutality to reveal intent. That was worse. He led him with a steady stride, his hand closed around the boy’s shoulder just tightly enough not to hurt, but too tight to escape. His fingers were cold. Dry. Still.

Henry stumbled over the threshold.

"Careful," Paul said calmly.

He did not help him. Did not slow down. He simply waited until the boy got up on his own.

The corridor was long. Narrow. The stone beneath Henry’s feet icy, the walls damp. Torches cast the light so that Paul’s face kept vanishing into shadow, then reappearing each time a little different. Sharper. Darker.

"Do you know where you are?" Paul asked suddenly.

Henry shook his head.

"This is Dvorce," Paul said slowly, clearly. "A place where temporary things end up. Goods. Tools. People who do not yet know what they will become."

Henry swallowed.

"I… I’m Henry," he said quietly. "My dad… He’s waiting…"

Paul stopped.

Slowly, he turned his head and looked at the boy as if noticing him for the first time.

"Henry," he repeated. "A pretty name. Your mother had a weakness for pretty things."

He stepped closer.

Too close.

"Do you know what happens to pretty things when they stop being useful?" he asked softly.

Something tightened in Henry’s throat.

"Dad will find me," he whispered.

Paul smiled faintly.

"Radzig?" he scoffed quietly. "My brother was always a dreamer. He thought the world could be held together with honesty and a good heart."

He leaned in until Henry felt his breath.

"And do you know where your father is now?" he asked.

Henry nodded, though he was no longer sure.

"No," Paul straightened. "And that is the first lesson you must remember. People who ‘always come back’ usually don’t come back at all."

He moved on, pulling Henry with him.

"Let me go," the boy blurted out.

Paul stopped again.

This time he slowly turned Henry to face him. He didn’t squeeze him. Didn’t raise his voice. He looked straight into his eyes long, carefully, like someone testing the strength of a material.

"Don’t tell me what to do," he said gently. "That’s the second lesson. You don’t have requests here. You are to be useful and do what you’re told."

Henry felt a burning under his skin.

Something inside him shifted restlessly. As if warmth were trying to break free. As if something wanted to scream for him.

Paul noticed immediately.

"Oh," he murmured with satisfaction. "You feel it, don’t you? That feeling when something inside wants out."

His fingers tightened on Henry’s shoulder.

"Don’t do it. Not yet. If you try… it will hurt."

Henry went rigid.

"How do you" he began.

"I know," Paul cut him off. "I know more about you than you know yourself. I know who you were. And who you can still become."

A door.

Heavy. Metal. With fittings and strange inscriptions carved into it.

Paul pushed it open effortlessly.

Inside, it was dark.

"Go in," he ordered.

"I don’t want to," Henry stepped back.

Paul sighed, as if genuinely tired.

"You see, Henry," he said calmly. "That’s the difference between you and me. You still think ‘I don’t want to’ means something."

He led him inside.

The door closed with a dull slam.

The silence was nearly absolute.

"This is where you’ll sleep," Paul continued, as if speaking of something ordinary. "This is where you’ll eat. This is where you’ll think about who you are and who you owe your breathing to."

Henry stood motionless.

"Jaroslav…" he whispered.

Paul laughed softly.

"My son?" he asked. "Oh, he likes you. That’s his weakness. But don’t worry. I’ll teach him how to cure it. After all, he brought you to me himself like cattle from the market."

He stepped closer one last time.

"And now remember something very important," he said almost in a whisper. "You are not a guest. You are not family. You are a project."

He straightened and turned to the door.

"Good night, Henry."

The door closed behind him.

Only then did Henry slide down onto the stone floor, more terrified than before.

And somewhere deep inside very deep something adult clenched its teeth and thought only one thing…

I will kill him.

The night in Dvorce was heavy. Not calm or sleepy thick, sticky, as if the air itself were waiting for something bad. The castle’s stone corridors swallowed footsteps, yet Jaroslav walked carefully, as if every sound might betray his thoughts.

The door to his father’s chamber stood ajar.

Paul was awake, even though they had arrived over two hours earlier.

He sat at the table, his back as straight as always, hands folded, the candle casting sharp shadows across his face. He looked as if he were waiting. Not for his son. For prey.

Jaroslav stopped in the doorway.

"You locked him in?" he asked without looking at him.

Paul nodded.

"Yes. The cage works… His power has quieted… The runes on the door glow more faintly," he whispered.

"‘Quieted,’" Paul repeated slowly. "You’ve always been soft with words. Just like your mother."

That hurt. It always did.

Jaroslav clenched his hands.

"He’s a child, Father."

Paul finally looked up. His gaze was icy.

"He’s a weapon," he corrected. "And weapons are forged, not stroked."

Silence fell. The kind that crawls under the skin.

"He’s afraid," Jaroslav said more quietly. "He’s lost. He doesn’t understand what’s happening to him."

Paul rose slowly and stepped closer, until Jaroslav smelled old wine and cold stone.

"Fear purifies," Paul said softly. "Fear breaks. And broken things obey."

Jaroslav lifted his head.

"And if you destroy him?"

Paul let out a short laugh.

"Destroy?" he leaned in, almost whispering. "You still don’t understand, my son. He’s already been destroyed. Someone took the life he knew. We’ll simply… use what remains."

Jaroslav stepped back.

"Radzig would never agree to this."

The name fell like a blade.

Paul’s face hardened.

"Radzig," he repeated with contempt. "Always Radzig. Always the righteous one. The good one. The chosen one."

He slammed his hand on the table. The candle trembled.

"And where was Radzig when I built this place? When I fought for every stone?" He stared sharply at Jaroslav. "Where was he when I was passed over?"

Jaroslav did not answer.

"He always had everything," Paul went on. "And I had to take by force."

He turned abruptly.

"And now I will take again. His son. His blood. His future."

Something cracked inside Jaroslav.

"This isn’t justice," he said firmly. "It’s revenge."

Paul looked at him for a long moment. Too long.

"Careful," he said calmly. "You’re starting to sound like you’re forgetting who you are and who you’re speaking to."

He stepped closer once more.

"You are my son. And you will do what must be done."

Jaroslav swallowed.

"And if I don’t?"

Paul smiled. This time, truly.

"Then you’ll learn how much defiance hurts."

He turned his back.

"Go. Watch the boy. He’ll still be useful to us."

Jaroslav left without a word.

When the door closed behind him, his steps quickened not from fear.

From shame.

And in a dark, cold chamber several corridors away, Henry stirred, as if in his sleep he sensed that a sentence had just been passed one no one had yet spoken aloud.

Chapter Text

The stone was warm.

Not pleasantly so just strangely. As if the walls remembered the fire that had once lived here and were now giving it back slowly, without asking whether anyone wanted it. Henry sat beneath the wall, his back pressed against cold runes carved deep into the stone. They were everywhere. On the door. On the ceiling. Even near the floor, where his fingers brushed them.

He could feel them.

He didn’t understand them, but he felt something inside him fall silent, as if each symbol were a whisper saying: you are not allowed.

The door opened slowly.

Torchlight spilled across the runes, making them flare for a moment with a faint bluish glow. Henry flinched instinctively, pulling his knees to his chest.

"Stand up," Paul said.

The voice was calm. Too calm.

Henry tried to rise. His legs felt heavy, as if someone had poured lead into them. He took one step and swayed.

Jaroslav stood in the doorway.

He didn’t enter right away. As if the threshold were a line he feared to cross. He looked at Henry with a tension he couldn’t hide.

"Father…" he began.

"Not yet," Paul cut him off without looking at him. "First, we see how he reacts."

He nodded to the guard.

The man stepped forward and pulled something metal from his bag.

A collar.

Simple. Heavy. With a thick clasp and thin, delicate runes carved along the inside. It didn’t glow. Not yet.

Henry stepped back.

"No…" he whispered. "Please… no."

Paul moved closer.

"It’s only a precaution," he said gently. "Like for a horse. Or a dog. We don’t want you to hurt yourself."

Like an animal.

Henry felt something inside him snap. Not violently. Quietly. Like a thin thread breaking.

The guard grabbed him from behind.

Henry struggled but the chamber answered immediately. The runes on the walls flared brighter, and something clenched in his chest, as if an invisible hand had closed around his heart.

"Quiet," Paul hissed. "The more afraid you are, the faster this will be."

The collar snapped shut around his neck with a dull click.

Henry screamed.

Not from pain.

From humiliation.

The runes on the metal ignited not brightly, but suffocatingly. Like embers under ash. Heat spread across the back of his neck, flowed down his spine, and lodged deep in his belly.

Magic trembled.

"Oh," Paul murmured with clear satisfaction. "He feels it."

Henry breathed shallowly. His neck burned. His head rang. Something inside him tried to rise, to answer, to explode but the chamber smothered it instantly, like wet earth thrown onto fire.

"Focus," Paul said. "Think of fear. Of being alone. Of no one coming for you."

Jaroslav lifted his head sharply.

"Father, enough"

"Watch," Paul cut in.

Henry began to tremble.

Images came on their own.

Jana’s scream.

Darkness.

The gate.

The closing doors.

The heat inside him struck suddenly.

Not as an explosion.

As a contraction.

A flame ignited within him and slammed straight into the chamber’s barrier. It rebounded. Folded back.

Returned to him.

Henry shrieked.

He collapsed to his knees, clutching his neck. The collar heated violently, as if punishing him for the mere act of existing. Heat poured down into his shoulders, his hands.

Red blotches bloomed on his skin. Cracks. As if fire were trying to escape but had nowhere to go.

"Fire," Paul whispered, almost in awe. "I knew it."

Jaroslav lunged forward.

"Take it off," he said sharply. "He’s hurting himself. He can’t control it."

Paul turned slowly.

"Exactly," he replied coldly. "Because he can’t control it. Fear is the best key."

Henry slumped onto his side. His breathing was ragged, whistling. Tears streamed down his cheeks, but he no longer had the strength to cry.

"Dad…" he whispered.

Paul looked down at him.

"Tomorrow we’ll try again," he announced. "Longer. The collar will adapt to your power. And you’ll adapt to the pain."

He turned to Jaroslav.

"If you look away next time," he added quietly, "I’ll take it as defiance."

The doors closed behind them.

Henry was alone.

The chamber dimmed.

The collar was still warm.

And somewhere very deep beneath fear, beneath pain, beneath childish tears.. 

something adult opened its eyes... 

Hours passed, and the runes on the walls glimmered faintly, as if even they were tired of watching. Henry lay by the wall, curled in on himself, knees pulled under his chin. The collar on his neck was cold now. Heavy.

He breathed quickly.

Something scraped outside the door.

Henry flinched and immediately pressed his hands to his chest. The fire inside stirred restlessly. It didn’t come out. Not yet.

The door opened slowly.

"Henry…" Jaroslav’s quiet voice.

The boy turned his head but didn’t look at him directly. He stared somewhere beside him, as if afraid that if he saw his face, something bad would happen.

"No…" he whispered. "I don’t want to."

Jaroslav stopped at the threshold.

"It’s alright," he said gently. "I just… I only came"

Henry shook his head.

"It hurts," he murmured, touching his neck. "It burns here."

"I know."

Jaroslav took a step forward.

And then Henry whimpered.

Not loudly. Like a child trying to be brave but no longer knowing how.

"Mama…" he whispered suddenly.

Jaroslav froze.

"What did you say?"

Henry didn’t answer.

His body tensed sharply. His fingers dug into the stone. His breath caught halfway through an inhale.

And then… something changed.

The boy’s eyes flew open.

White. The color drained completely, as if someone had extinguished it. The runes on the walls shuddered and flared with harsh light.

Jaroslav recoiled instinctively.

"Henry…?"

A sound came from the boy’s mouth that did not belong to a child.

"Mama…"

The voice was deeper. Hoarse. Broken by pain and by years that should not have been there.

The air in the chamber thickened.

The fire did not explode.

It did not erupt.

It searched.

Henry lifted his head slowly, as if pulled by something unseen. His white eyes stared… through the walls.

"Mother…" he whispered in a different tone. "Please… I can’t… help him."

Jaroslav felt his heart climb into his throat.

"Who… who are you?" he asked, trembling.

Henry did not hear him.

His lips kept moving, but the voice faded into a whisper, carrying like a prayer.

"Find me…" he breathed. "He’s small… he’s afraid. He can’t do this."

The runes flared brighter and then one of them cracked, as if something had pressed against it from the inside.

Jaroslav stepped back farther.

"Gods…" he whispered.

Henry suddenly convulsed. His entire body arched, and a short, broken cry tore from his throat.

The light went out.

The eyes regained their color but only for a moment.

The boy collapsed limply onto the stone.

"Ma…" he mumbled in a child’s voice, barely moving his lips. "I want my mama."

Jaroslav rushed to him at once and dropped to his knees.

He didn’t touch the collar. He was afraid.

"It’s… it’s alright," he whispered, more to himself than to the boy. "Nothing else is..."

He stiffened when the child’s eyes fixed on him.

The pupils were like a cat’s golden, full of pain, but also rage.

"You will pay for this."

The voice that came from that small body was a low snarl.

Another rune shattered. Then another.

"The smell of blood… the smell of death. This land will burn, and no one will be spared."

The eyes flashed. Henry’s tongue flicked like a snake’s as he hissed.

Jaroslav retreated from the chamber at once and slammed the door behind him, not looking back.

His heart pounded wildly, his temples throbbing.

And he knew one thing.

The mother had heard her son’s call.

And if Jana, together with Radzig, answered it then Paul had just passed a death sentencje on himself and on every soul in Dvorce.

Chapter Text

The air before Dvorce stood completely still, as if it knew blood would soon be spilled. Torches burned low, their flames trembling whether from the wind or from the nerves of the men holding them, no one could tell. Armor creaked with every movement. Horses snorted uneasily, sensing a tension they could not name.

Radzig stood at the front.

He was not mounted. He stood on his own feet, sword at his side, cloak thrown over his shoulders carelessly, as if it no longer mattered. There was only one thing that mattered now time slipping through his fingers, and a son whose condition he did not know.

Hans stood to his right. Silent. Pale. His hand clenched so tightly around his sword hilt that his knuckles had gone white. To the left was Hanush, solid as stone, but today there was no mockery in his eyes. Beyond them stood the men of Dziwish of Talmberg experienced, ready, asking no questions.

Everyone knew why they were here.

The gate of Dvorce was closed.

"Come out, Paul," Radzig called, his voice carrying far, clear, without shouting. "Come out and give me the child. You can still end this without bloodshed."

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then guards appeared on the walls. A few of them. Too few.

At last, a voice answered Paul’s, amplified by stone and echo.

"You come with outsiders against your own blood," he said. "You’ve always been the same, Radzig. Always willing to burn everything down just to have your way."

Radzig clenched his jaw.

"You kidnapped my child."

"You mean your bastard, Radzig!" Paul snarled. "How dare you stain our blood like this?! And Dvorce are my walls. You have no authority here."

Hans stepped forward, but Hanush placed a hand on his shoulder. Not yet.

"Give Henry back," Radzig repeated, slower now, quieter. "And we will leave."

Laughter rang out from the walls. Short. Empty.

"No. I won’t give you the weapon I’ve made of him. That child is necessary to me."

The word fell like a stone.

"He is not a weapon!" Radzig growled.

Silence followed.

For a moment, no one moved. Then Radzig turned his head and nodded once. That was enough.

A hail of arrows fell toward his family home.

The night shattered.

Radzig’s men surged forward, running with a roar that was not chaotic it was furious. The gate shuddered under of the battering ram. Hans’s horse screamed as its master charged into the fight, cutting without hesitation.

Radzig fought like a man who had no choice.

He did not think about who he wounded. He thought only of the fact that somewhere beyond these walls, on cold stone, his son was lying.

When Dvorce began to buckle under the assault, Paul was already fleeing.

Not to the walls.

Not to his men.

To his chamber.

Radzig noticed almost instinctively. A movement. A shadow disappearing into a side wing. And he knew.

"Hanush," he said sharply. "Lead the assault. Hans, with him. I’m going after Paul."

He did not wait for an answer.

The corridors of Dvorce were a labyrinth, but Radzig knew them too well. Here they had trained with swords. There they had drunk their first wine. There they had argued.

Paul’s chamber door was closed.

Radzig slammed into it with his shoulder. Once. Twice.

The lock gave way.

He burst inside, sword in hand. 

Paul was waiting.

The chamber was lit by a single torch. The flame cast long shadows on the walls, making them both look like warped caricatures of themselves twisted and unfamiliar.

Radzig kicked the door shut behind him. The lock clicked.

Paul smiled crookedly and attacked first, without a word.

Steel crashed against steel, the sound echoing off stone walls. Paul fought violently, with wide, brutal swings, like someone who wanted not just to win, but to destroy. Radzig retreated step by step, parrying, until Paul’s blade scraped stone inches from his head.

"You still fight like you’re better than everyone else," Paul hissed, striking from below. "Always showing off."

Radzig deflected the blow and answered with his own, forcing Paul back.

"I’m not showing off," he snarled. "I learned to fight while you preferred drinking and fucking whores."

Paul laughed shortly, hysterically, and lunged again.

"I had enough of you, little brother!" he shouted. "I saw how Father looked at you. How everything that was mine slowly slipped into your hands. No matter what I did, no one ever noticed."

Radzig drove him into the wall. Stone thundered. The torch flickered.

"I took nothing from you. Father gave you chance after chance. You were his firstborn. You chose not to use them."

"You’re lying!" Paul struck with the pommel, hitting Radzig in the ribs. "You stole my future! My house! My respect! And now you come here with strangers, acting like the lord of Dvorce!"

Radzig bent slightly but recovered instantly. His blade cut the air so close to Paul’s neck that he felt the cold of the steel.

"And what did you do, Paul?" Radzig said quietly, almost calmly. "You kidnapped a child. My child. You’ve fallen low, brother."

Paul hesitated for a fraction of a second. Long enough for Radzig to see it.

"He is not just yours," Paul whispered. "He is more than you want to admit. With him, we could be unstoppable. Do you understand that?!"

They collided near the table. Wood cracked under the impact. A goblet fell and shattered with a dry snap.

"I’ve seen what’s waking inside him," Paul continued, breathing hard. "Fire you don’t understand. You think love is enough? That Jana will protect him? That you will?"

Radzig punched him in the face. No blade. No mercy.

"I will protect him from you and those like you. Even at the cost of my own life."

Paul staggered but did not fall. He spat blood onto the stone.

"You won’t protect him from himself," he said. "Because you’re afraid too. You just never admit it."

They clashed again. Blow after blow. Steel sang. Arms burned. Breath tore at their throats. At last, Radzig feinted, kicked Paul in the knee. Paul stumbled, his sword slipping from his hand and clattering across the floor.

Radzig pressed his blade to Paul’s throat.

For a moment, only their breathing filled the room.

"Where is Henry?"

Paul looked up at him. The fury was gone. Only exhaustion remained.

"I knew you wouldn’t kill me," he whispered. "Not now."

Radzig’s teeth clenched so hard it hurt.

"You will take me to him." He hauled him upright.

Paul nodded weakly. Slowly. Like a man who already knew he had lost.

"And then you’ll kill me," he said not asking, stating.

Radzig withdrew the blade without a word.

Paul walked first as Radzig forced him from the chamber, shoving him forward. He moved unsteadily, slower with every step.

Blood dripped from his side, leaving dark stains on the stone that vanished into the half-light of Dvorce’s corridors. Radzig stayed a step behind him, sword in hand, blade lowered. He did not trust his brother for a breath yet he let him lead.

"A bit further," Paul muttered, more to himself than to Radzig. "Lower. Where the storerooms used to be."

Radzig tightened his grip on the hilt.

"If you’re lying..."

Paul snorted softly.

"If I were lying, I’d already be dead."

The stairs down were narrow and damp. The walls smelled of cold and old magic no one had ever named. The closer they got, the more Radzig felt something under his skin like a taut string. Like embers hidden beneath ash.

Paul stumbled.

Radzig caught his arm before he hit the stone.

"Don’t touch me," Paul hissed, tearing free despite his state.

Moments later, they reached the place where the boy was imprisoned.

The chamber door was low, heavy, covered in runes that barely glowed anymore. Some looked rushed. Crooked. Brutal.

Paul leaned against the wall.

"There," he nodded toward the door. "That’s where the freak is."

Radzig didn’t wait. He slammed the door open with his shoulder.

The chamber was small. Too small.

The stone floor was icy, breath misting in the air. The walls were covered in sigils meant to suppress power. The air reeked of blood… and scorched flesh.

Henry lay on the floor.

He wasn’t crying. 

He wasn’t moving.

He was so still that for a split second Radzig thought he was too late.

"Henry."

He dropped to his knees beside him, forgetting Paul, the sword, the world. The boy breathed shallowly, in broken gasps. His small hands were torn raw, as if he had tried to rip the collar from his neck.

Radzig touched his cheek.

Warm.

"I’m here," he whispered, more to himself. "I’m here, my son."

Henry stirred. Barely. As if the word had to fight its way through layers of pain and fear.

A step sounded behind Radzig.

Jaroslav.

He stood in the doorway, unnaturally pale. His gaze went first to the child, then to Radzig and stopped somewhere between them, as if he could not decide whom he hated more.

Paul laughed. Short. Hoarse.

"Just in time," he said. "Do it, son."

Jaroslav stiffened.

"Kill him," Paul nodded toward Radzig. "And the bastard. Before everything I’ve done here goes to waste."

"No," Jaroslav said.

One word. Quiet. Unyielding.

Paul turned on him sharply.

"What did you say?"

"I won’t do it."

Paul took a step toward him, unsteady but burning with rage.

"Everything you have is because of me," he spat. "Your name. Your position. Your blood! And now you stand with him? With that child?"

Jaroslav trembled. His hands hung at his sides, but his fingers clenched around something hidden in his sleeve.

"My whole life I tried to be what you wanted," he said quietly. "You never once praised me. I stayed silent. I obeyed. I watched you hate anything that showed even a trace of weakness. I thought maybe you cared about me a little."

Paul scoffed.

"Weakness must be burned out."

"You burned me," Jaroslav lifted his eyes, tears in them. "And that child. And everything you touched. Mother. My sister. You even turned against your own brother."

Paul opened his mouth to reply.

He never got the chance.

Jaroslav moved suddenly. A short motion. Like something he had practiced his entire life.

The dagger slid beneath Paul’s ribs quietly. No scream. No drama.

Paul stiffened. Looked down. Then at his son.

"You…" he whispered.

Jaroslav held the hilt as if afraid to let go.

"I hate you," he said, his voice breaking. "For what you did. For what you made me. You were never my father. Never. May hell take you."

Paul tried to speak.

He couldn’t.

He dropped to his knees. Then to his side. His eyes went dark mid-breath.

The silence was absolute.

Radzig did not turn away from Henry.

Only after a moment did he speak.

"You did what I could not."

Jaroslav didn’t answer. He just stood there, shaking, his father’s blood on his hands.

Henry sighed softly. Barely audible.

Radzig pulled him closer, shielding him with his own body, as if the world might still collapse.

"We’re going home," he whispered.

They rode out at dawn.

Not in triumph. Not in haste. Simply when the fighting was over and there was no reason to remain within walls soaked in blood and чужym suffering. The sky over Dvorce was the color of dirty steel. Morning light was cold, indifferent as if the day refused to take part in what had happened during the night.

Everyone was exhausted.

Not only in body.

The road to Rattay took two days. The horses needed rest. The men needed sleep. No one had the strength to ride on pretending everything was fine. They stopped halfway without words or debate. The camp was quiet, almost dead. They ate little. Spoke even less. Each carried the image of Dvorce, impossible to shake from their shoulders.

Radzig did not let Henry go the entire time. No one approached him seeing how his whole world had narrowed to the small body he held in his arms.

Rattay received them in silence.

The gate stood open. Guards had descended from the walls. And yet no one shouted. As if the whole town held its breath, sensing that those returning were not victors, but people carrying something fragile.

Radzig dismounted carefully.

Henry lay limp in his arms, his head against Radzig’s chest. The boy was warm too warm and breathed shallowly, in a broken rhythm Radzig counted in his head, fear growing with every breath.

And then he saw her.

Jana was running.

She looked at no one else. Saw no people, no horses, no dust. Her dress tangled around her legs, hair slipping free of her scarf. She stopped only in front of him, abruptly, as if she had run into a wall.

For a split second, they just stared at each other.

Something inside Radzig broke.

Everything he had held back on the Road anger, fear, exhaustion spilled out in one burning surge. His arms trembled as he handed her the child.

"He’s" His voice broke.

He didn’t finish.

Jana was already with Henry.

But only for a second.

She wrapped him in her arms, pressed him close, touched his face and then she saw the collar.

She went rigid.

The tears vanished as if cut away with a knife.

"Hold him," she said firmly, without hesitation.

Radzig blinked, stunned.

"What…?"

"Now," she repeated, sharper.

She gave Henry back and stepped away. Her hands rose slowly, fingers spreading as if grasping invisible threads in the air.

Magic came instantly.

It was not violent. 

It was not spectacular.

It was… familiar.

Warm like a hearth fire controlled, steady. The air around Henry’s neck shuddered. The runes on the collar flared sharply, protesting.

"Yield," Jana whispered.

There was no scream in it.

There was a command.

The runes cracked one by one, softly, like breaking glass. The collar split apart on its own and fell onto the courtyard stone with a dull sound.

Henry sucked in air sharply.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

His breathing deepened, filled out, as if his lungs had only just remembered their purpose. His fingers loosened. His shoulders sagged.

The boy moved.

"Ma?" he murmured, not opening his eyes yet.

Jana rushed to him immediately, embracing him together with Radzig, as if she couldn’t decide whether to take him or simply be as close as possible.

"I’m here," she whispered, her voice shaking.

Henry blinked.

His eyes opened slowly clouded with sleep and pain, but… normal. Childlike. No glow. No white. No alien weight.

He saw her.

He smiled faintly.

"It hurt…" he said quietly.

Jana held him tighter.

"It won’t hurt anymore. I promise, my love," she whispered, stroking his hair.

Radzig stood beside her, still holding his son and only now did he realize he was breathing just as shallowly as Henry had before.

He closed his eyes for a moment.

And allowed himself to believe that they really made it...

Chapter Text

Several days had passed since their return to Rattay. Henry was recovering slowly. Every movement, every breath reminded him of what he had endured the pain, the humiliation, and the power now trembling inside him, ready to erupt at any moment. He spent most of his time in his father’s chamber, curled up among soft cushions or watching the world through the windows. The morning sun bathed the stone walls in golden light, making all of Rattay seem calm and almost unreal after the chaos of the past days.

Jana and Radzig were with him every evening, sitting beside him giving him space, yet never allowing him to feel alone. Their presence was warm, steady, and full of patience.

“Henry,” Jana began softly but firmly, “several days have passed. We can see that you’re getting better. We want to help you return to your adult form. It’s time, my boy.”

Henry lifted his eyes to her. Fear and uncertainty mingled in his gaze, and his voice trembled with unease.

“I’m scared…” he whispered. “That I’ll lose control again… I already burned… the blanket.”

He lowered his head, ashamed.

Radzig leaned forward slightly, placing a hand on Henry’s shoulder. His touch was firm, steady, calming like a promise that he would not leave him alone in this moment.

“We’ll be with you. The whole time. Just you and us. No one will interrupt. Don’t worry it was only an accident. Jana will teach you how to control your power,” he said calmly, in a tone that demanded trust.

Jana nodded, watching Henry’s reaction closely.

“If at any point you want to stop, we will. No one will force you. This is your decision.”

Henry took a deep breath. His heart pounded like a hammer, his fingers clenching the soft blanket beneath him. Slowly, he raised his gaze and looked at them both. At last, a spark of determination appeared in his eyes.

“Alright,” he whispered. “Let’s try… B-but...”

“Yes, Hal? What is it?” Radzig asked, frowning slightly.

“Ans…” Henry whispered, longing in his voice. “I want him to be here.”

Jana looked at Radzig. Radzig looked back at her. Both were slightly surprised, unsure how to react.

“Henry… we don’t know how your power might react. We don’t want anyone to get hurt,” Jana said calmly, explaining gently.

“Mom!” he squeaked, unable to hold back his emotions. “I want Ans!”

“Your father will bring him,” Jana replied, rolling her eyes with mild irritation. “Radzig, move it already.”

Radzig muttered something under his breath. Jana shot him a sharp look.

“Did you say something?”

“No…” he replied, shrugging.

“That’s what I thought,” she said with a faint smile. “So stop grumbling and move your noble backside to fetch the boy. God help you and your blue blood there’s always trouble.”

“And you love me anyway,” Radzig snorted, stepping closer to her, “my noble backside included and not only that.”

He whispered it into her ear, and Jana instantly flushed.

“Radzig, for God’s sake! Out! Go!” she shoved him toward the door, still blushing faintly.

Jana turned back to Henry with a gentle smile.

“Pa will come back with Ans?” the boy asked, his shyness still distinctly childlike.

“Yes, he will,” Jana replied, stroking his arm. “But please don’t act like you’re entitled to everything, and don’t force things. That’s very rude.”

“Alright, Mom…” Henry sighed, lowering his head.

They didn’t have to wait long. Radzig returned with Hans, and Henry’s face immediately lit up with a bright smile.

“Ans! I’m going to be big again!” he shouted, standing up on the bed and wobbling dangerously. Jana caught him just in time, saving him from falling.

“Believe me, I’m happy too. I’ve even missed your constant moral lectures,” Hans said, rolling his eyes. Henry answered with a wide grin.

Their gazes met in a quiet, unspoken exchange. There was understanding there and a closeness no one else could have guessed at.

“Then we begin,” Jana said at last. Radzig stepped back slightly with Hans, watching every movement, every pulse within Henry. He knew this transformation would require absolute focus and patience.

Jana knelt in front of Henry, extending her hands toward him, sensing the tension within.

“Henry, you need to focus on yourself,” she said softly. “Close your eyes. Think about who you were before you became a child.”

Henry took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Something stirred inside him a power that had slept beneath layers of pain and fear. Now it awakened, pulsing and reminding him of the old strength, the anger, the loneliness that were now only memories.

“I can feel it…” he whispered. “Like I’m about to explode… I’m scared.”

Jana placed her hands on his shoulders, and Henry felt warmth like an anchor holding him safely in place.

“You won’t explode,” she assured him. “I’m guiding you, and Radzig and Hans are making sure no one interferes. Just you and me. Focus, my sun.”

Henry felt his body slowly stretching, changing. The fragility of the child gave way to adult strength small bones growing stronger, muscles tightening, his heart beating harder with the rhythm of a grown body.

“Just a little more…” Jana whispered, her eyes shining with focus and magic. “Feel your power. Don’t be afraid of it… You can do this, Henry.”

Inside him, everything roared. The fire that had once terrified him was now part of him ready to be guided. His body hummed with energy, every cell remembering who he truly was.

At last, Henry opened his eyes. They were no longer pale, but adult steady, though still threaded with the remnants of fear. He swayed, feeling the power rush from his head to the tips of his toes and then his entire body went limp as he collapsed onto the bed. He fainted.

Jana placed a hand on his chest, checking his pulse. Carefully, she covered him with blankets up to his neck. A moment of tension swept through the room, but Radzig caught her just as she swayed unsteadily herself.

“It worked. Now he needs to rest,” she whispered, sitting down and leaning against Radzig.

Hans gently touched Henry’s cheek, relief softening his features. For a brief moment, he forgot they weren’t alone then withdrew his hand so as not to raise suspicion. They would have time for each other later.

“Hans, I don’t want to chase you away, but Henry and Jana need peace now,” Radzig said, lifting Jana carefully into his arms.

“Of course, sir,” Hans murmured, casting one last look at Henry. The door closed with a soft click.

Radzig laid Jana gently on their shared bed and sat beside her.

“You’re incredible, Jana,” he said, brushing her hair aside and kissing her softly.

“A compliment like that from a man like you… Oh, Radzig, I’m going to blush,” she giggled, taking his hand and placing it on her stomach.

“Jana…” he whispered, looking at her intently.

“I can feel it, Radzig. It’s early, but through magic I know life is already forming inside me. Henry will have a little sister,” she smiled, tightening her grip on his hand.

“A daughter…” he whispered and suddenly went pale.

“Radzig? Are you alright? Radzig!” she cried out as he slipped from the bed and lost consciousness...

Chapter Text

Henry woke first.

A strange, tense warmth spread through his body, as if every single cell were remembering who he truly was. He opened his eyes slowly and felt it immediately his own body, adult, strong, confident. His heart beat harder, but not from fear. From certainty. A faint smile curved his lips as he sat up in bed.

For a moment, he hesitated, looking around the room. Everything felt familiar, yet different. In the other bed, he saw Jana and Radzig, curled together in sleep. Their calm breathing, the warmth radiating from them… Henry knew he wasn’t ready for conversations or explanations yet. But he was grateful they could finally rest after everything.

"There will be time to talk," he murmured to himself. "First… Hans."

Jana had prepared his clothes. He was damn grateful for that there was no way he would’ve fit into the smaller ones. Henry pulled them on slowly, carefully, feeling every movement of his adult body. Then he slipped out of the chamber, making sure not to wake his parents.

The corridor was quiet. The sun was only beginning to rise, golden streaks of light spilling through the windows and reflecting off the stone walls. Henry walked slowly, as if he wanted to remember every step.

He reached their old chamber the one he had shared with Hans. The door was slightly ajar. Henry entered quietly and gently slid the bolt shut. Inside, Hans was sleeping, curled on his side, his breathing calm and even.

Henry smiled softly. His heart beat faster, warmth spreading through his chest. He approached the bed carefully, memories from before the transformation returning quietly, gently. He lay down beside Hans, careful not to wake him.

For a moment, they lay together in silence. The world around them seemed to disappear. It was peace a moment where they could simply be, before the conversations, the explanations, and all the emotions waiting for them while awake.

Henry shifted closer as gently as he could and pressed a light kiss to the back of Hans’s neck.

Hans stirred in his half-sleep, sensing the warmth at his side and the calm, familiar hands moving over his back so naturally that for a second he thought it was only a dream. Slowly, he opened his eyes and his gaze immediately fell on the figure lying beside him.

His heart froze.

"Henry?" he whispered, not entirely sure he was really seeing him.

Henry smiled softly. Warmth flickered in his eyes and something more. Certainty. Maturity that had only moments ago been hidden in the body of a child. He didn’t say anything. He only leaned in and gently wrapped his arms around Hans, pulling him close.

Hans jolted upright but he didn’t pull away. His hands instinctively came to rest on Henry’s shoulders. Their breaths tangled, and an almost electric silence formed between them. Henry dipped his head, and their lips met in a first, hesitant kiss one that quickly deepened, as if all the unspoken emotions, the longing, the closeness finally found release.

"I can’t believe this…" Hans whispered when they finally pulled apart, looking into each other’s eyes.

"It’s me…" Henry replied softly, cupping his face. "It’s really me. Adult… and… here. With you."

Hans smiled uncertainly, then pressed himself closer, as if he needed to feel that everything they had survived was truly over.

"I was afraid… that I’d never see you like this again…" he whispered, his voice trembling.

Henry pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around his waist.

"When I had those flashes… I was scared too. That I wouldn’t come back," he whispered, his hands gently massaging Hans’s hips.

They stayed like that for a while, silence broken only by Hans’s steady breathing and Henry’s pounding heart. Then Hans lifted a hand and cupped Henry’s cheek.

"I missed you… all of this," he whispered.

Henry answered with a soft, relieved smile.

"And I missed you too… But I’m here now. And hopefully I won’t turn into a child again," he murmured, pulling Hans closer and letting the rest of the world fade for a moment.

Their kisses grew more certain tender, needy, filled with longing until Hans closed his eyes, nestling into Henry, and Henry held him tighter, whispering.

"Nothing will happen to you. I’m here. I always will be."

The warmth filling their bodies mingled with emotions they hadn’t allowed themselves before.

"Hans… you took such good care of me," Henry whispered between kisses, his mouth trailing down to Hans’s pale neck.

"Apparently not well enough if that bastard kidnapped you under my watch," Hans muttered, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt Henry’s hand grab his ass and squeeze firmly.

"What matters is that I’m alive. And that my power awakened anyway."

Hans tried to reply, but within seconds they had switched positions, Henry now looming over him, devouring him with his gaze.

"Henry…" Hans whispered, breathing faster, and the blacksmith’s grin widened as he felt Hans’s hard length press against his ass.

"Let me take care of you now, my lord," Henry murmured, leaning in to kiss him again. "Do you want to take me, Hans? Should I prepare myself for you? For your big cock?"

He rested a hand on Hans’s cheek and rolled his hips, making the nobleman hiss at the friction.

"Henry, the devil himself is whispering in your ear," Hans said, grabbing him through the fabric and squeezing lightly. "I want you. Show me what a good boy you are, Hal."

Henry gasped at the pressure, then dove under the bed to retrieve a small flask of oil.

"Undress. Show me how much you want me."

He slapped Hans’s thigh lightly before rising to remove his own clothes. He checked the door once more, then lay down on the bed, pouring oil onto his fingers.

"Look at me, Hal. Look at me while you do it."

Hans grabbed his face, pulling closer, his breath hot and uneven. Henry lifted his gaze focused, unrestrained need burning in his eyes as he locked onto the nobleman’s dark stare. Hans’s lips parted in a silent breath as he held Henry’s chin and pushed the first finger inside him. 

A soft, trembling moan escaped Henry’s chest.

The sensation was foreign and unbearably exciting. The oiled fingertip pressed against resistance, then slid in, stretching him, flooding his body with burning warmth. Warmth… and fullness. He moved slowly, experimentally, each stretch sending new shivers through him.

"Hans…" he moaned again, his voice hoarse with desire.

"That’s it, Henry," Hans growled, his free hand wrapping around his own rock-hard cock. His movements were quick, impatient, but his eyes never left Henry’s face. He watched as Henry’s narrowed eyes filled with tears of pleasure, his lips parting in a silent plea. "You’re preparing yourself so beautifully for me."

Obediently, Henry pushed in a second finger. The pain was sharp but brief, instantly melting into a deep, satisfying fullness driven by his own need. He arched his back, heels digging into the mattress, fingers moving faster now, stretching himself, chasing the rhythm his body craved. Soft, wet sounds mixed with their heavy breathing.

"I can’t… wait any longer," Hans groaned, his hand speeding up.

"Me neither," Henry panted, withdrawing his fingers. In one smooth motion, he turned onto his knees, bracing himself on hands and knees. His broad, muscular back tensed, his ass lifting in a silent, shameless invitation. "Hans… please."

That was all Hans needed.

He moved behind him quickly, one hand gripping Henry’s hip, the other spreading more oil and guiding his swollen, leaking cock forward. The warm, slick tip brushed against Henry’s trembling entrance.

"If anything feels wrong, say it immediately," Hans whispered but his voice broke as he thrust forward.

Henry bit his lip as the head pushed inside. This wasn’t a finger. It was overwhelming stretching him to the brink of pain. His nails dug into the sheets as his body stiffened in shock. He forced himself to breathe, to relax. Hans didn’t stop. His hand on Henry’s hip pulled him back firmly, inch by inch, until he was fully inside.

They froze.

Both gasping, overwhelmed by the intensity. Henry felt every inch of Hans burning inside him, his body clenching instinctively around the intrusion. Pain pulsed but beneath it, something else began to bloom. Fullness. Absolute, dizzying fullness. Heat spreading from where they were joined, warming his blood.

"Move," Henry whispered hoarsely. "Please… move."

Hans let out a low growl and pulled back almost completely, only to thrust back in just as hard.

Henry cried out into the pillow this time in pleasure. The pain faded, melting under the repeated friction that now hit exactly the right place, sending sparks straight to his brain. His neglected, hard cock slapped against his stomach in time with their movements.

Hans began thrusting steadily, powerfully, each push rocking Henry’s entire body. The sounds of their bodies meeting, the wet rhythm, their stifled moans and curses filled the quiet chamber. Henry dropped his head, breathing hard, completely surrendering to the sensations. Every thrust was like a hammer striking heated iron painful and shaping. He felt Hans stretching him, filling him in a way he had missed without even knowing it.

"Yes… just like that… my Henry…" Hans growled, leaning over him, lips pressing to the sweaty skin between his shoulders, tongue sliding, teeth biting gently. "So tight… so hot…"

Hans’s hand left Henry’s hip and reached around, wrapping around his throbbing cock. His firm grip synced perfectly with the thrusts of his hips.

The double stimulation broke him.

Henry cried out, his body arching like a drawn bow. It was too much too intense. Every part of him stretched, filled, rubbed to the edge.

"Hans… I’m… I’m close…" he babbled, losing control.

"No," Hans snarled, thrusting faster, shorter, deeper. "With me. Together."

The final thrust slammed him fully inside. Hans stiffened, biting back a cry. He wanted to scream but not here, not in a castle full of people. Henry felt the hot flood fill him, deep and marking. The sensation shattered the last of his restraint. A muffled cry tore from his throat as his own release spilled over Hans’s hand and the sheets beneath him, pleasure crashing through him in almost painful waves.

For a long moment they stayed like that connected, shaking, breathing like they’d run for miles. The warmth inside Henry lingered, tangible, real.

Eventually Hans pulled out gently, and Henry let out a soft whine at the sudden emptiness. But before he could protest, strong arms wrapped around him and rolled him onto his side. Hans pulled him close, Henry’s back pressed to his chest, their sweaty bodies fitting together. Hans’s hand rested flat on Henry’s now-calm stomach.

Silence returned heavier, sweeter, soaked in the scent of them.

Henry closed his eyes, listening as Hans’s heartbeat slowly slowed, matching his own.

"Always," Hans whispered into the damp hair at Henry’s temple.

The warmth inside them mixed with emotion. In that moment, there was no fear, no pain only them. Together. Adult Henry and Hans, finally able to be close again, fully, with nothing left to hide.

Chapter Text

Time had lost all meaning.

There was only silence, broken by steady breaths, the warmth of another body, and the quiet certainty that something brutally torn away had finally returned to where it belonged. When everything at last grew still, they lay beside one another tangled together, exhausted, and calm in a way neither of them had felt in a very long time.

Hans was the first to move, shifting slightly and resting his forehead against Henry’s shoulder.

"If this is a dream…" he murmured softly, "…then I don’t want to wake up."

Henry let out a short, tired snort of laughter and slid his fingers through Hans’s hair.

"It’s not a dream," he replied calmly. "I’m here. Really."

Hans only nodded, closing his eyes for another moment. Then he sighed heavily and reluctantly pulled away.

"We should pull ourselves together," he said at last, that familiar pragmatism creeping back into his voice. "Before someone starts wondering where we disappeared to."

Henry smiled crookedly.

"As always."

They washed quickly, without words efficiently, smoothly, as if they had done it a hundred times before. When they were finally dressed, composed and calm, nothing remained of the morning except the looks they exchanged looks that said far more than they should have.

Hans adjusted his belt and glanced sideways at Henry.

"Ready?"

"More than ever," Henry replied.

They walked together into the great hall.

The dining hall was bathed in morning light. The stone walls still held the chill of the night, but the air was filled with the scent of bread, herbs, and warm food. Hanush, Radzig, and Jana were already seated at the table.

Jana sipped water, her hand resting instinctively on her stomach something no one noticed except her future husband. Radzig drank his wine slowly, as if for the first time in many days he could truly allow himself to relax. Hanush, as usual, looked the most at ease of the three.

When Henry and Hans entered, the conversation paused only for a moment.

"Well, well," Hanush said with amusement. "I thought we’d need to send a formal invitation for the two of you. Good to see even that is returning to normal."

"We had things to discuss," Hans replied lightly as he took a seat. "Though I must admit it’s nice not to chase Henry around while he decides mud is the greatest entertainment known to man."

"I would like to remind you, sir, that someone was splashing around in that mud with me," Henry grinned maliciously.

"Those peasant roots of yours, Hal," Hans rolled his eyes and then nearly fell off his chair as he suddenly felt the seat grow scorching hot.

"Henry!" he yelped. "Stop playing with your new power!" he added, panting.

"I’m not doing anything," Henry shrugged, taking his seat beside Hans. "But you have to admit it’s useful."

"Do that again and I’ll send you to Purg."

"Of course, my lord. I await it eagerly," Henry replied sweetly.

"Can the two of you calm down and stop arguing like children?" Hanush rubbed his face in resignation.

Radzig studied Henry carefully, ignoring their little exchange.

"How do you feel, Hal?"

"Good," Henry answered without hesitation. "Like I finally fit back into myself. The power isn’t boiling inside me anymore. I can actually control it now."

He smiled and held out his hand. From flame, he shaped a bird the size of a pigeon.

"Sir Birdie" he muttered with amusement.

Radzig snorted despite himself quickly masking it.

"Henry! Do I remind you of something like that?" Hans protested immediately.

"Not exactly… more like this," Henry said.

The bird shifted, shrinking until a small sparrow like creature formed in his palm.

"You are ridiculous! Do I really strike you as... as something like that?!" Hans exclaimed, staring at the tiny bird. "What in God’s name is so funny?!" he shouted, punching Henry lightly in the arm.

"How dare I…" Henry choked on laughter. "My lord is clearly a large and magnificent bird."

He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, genuinely amused.

"Alright, alright. It’s just a joke."

This time he created a much larger creature one resembling an eagle, wings spread wide in living flame.

"Better? You can touch it. It won’t burn you."

Hesitantly, Hans reached out and placed his hand against the fiery form. He felt no heat beneath his fingers.

"Now this is acceptable," he muttered, satisfied, stroking it gently.

"You can keep it," Henry said casually and began to eat.

Jana exchanged a confused look with the others at the table and decided to speak before Hanush launched into a lecture.

"But we’ll need to start training, Hal," she said gently. "We want to understand the true potential of your fire and we don’t want you or anyone else getting hurt. Please remember power is not a toy."

"I just hope I don’t burn down Rattay, Mom," Henry blurted out.

Hanush shot him a sharp look.

"I don’t want another Skalitz, boy," he grumbled.

Radzig gave him a pitying glance.

"Ah, forgive me, my friend," Hanush muttered and took a sip of wine.

"I forgive you. Just don’t bring it up again," Radzig replied, a shiver running down his spine. "Nothing here will burn… unless young Lord Capon manages to anger my son. Then outcomes may vary."

He drank his wine with deliberate nonchalance.

"Radzig!"

"You know I love teasing you, old friend," Radzig sighed, patting Hanush on the shoulder.

A brief silence followed until Hanush suddenly set his mug down with a distinct thud, clearly changing the subject.

"Since we’re all here," he began casually, "it’s time to say it out loud. We’ll need to prepare a wedding. Autumn will be upon us before we know it. Time is short."

Henry choked on his wine.

Hans snapped his head toward him, abandoning his petting of the fiery bird.

"A wedding?" Henry croaked between coughs. "What wedding? Whose?"

"A normal one," Hanush shrugged. "With music. Guests. And all the chaos your parents will be responsible for, boy."

Henry looked around the table, visibly disoriented.

"But…," he started, then stopped. "Mom… Mom isn’t a noblewoman. And besides what changed? Why can you marry now, when before you couldn’t?"

The words came out faster than he could stop them.

The realization hit him instantly.

"I… I’m sorry," he added quickly, lowering his gaze. "I didn’t mean. That was… stupid."

Jana shook her head and stood, moving to her son and placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Henry," she said gently. "I know what you meant. And I’m not angry. We all know this very well."

Radzig set his goblet aside.

"These weren’t our first obstacles," he said calmly. "And you’re right there were reasons to hesitate before."

Henry looked up.

"So… what changed now?"

Radzig met his gaze, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"That’s something we’ll explain to you… in time. After the wedding."

"After the wedding?" Hans narrowed his eyes. "That sounds suspicious."

Hanush burst out laughing.

"I reacted the same way when Radzig told me," he admitted. "Then I decided I don’t know a more devious man."

"So all of you know something we don’t," Henry stated.

"Definitely," Hanush confirmed without a trace of remorse.

Hans and Henry exchanged a knowing look.

"Care to enlighten us?" Hans suggested.

"Or at least give us a hint," Henry added.

Jana smiled mysteriously.

"Not yet."

"Definitely not now," Radzig added with a sly grin.

Hanush waved a hand, amused by the boys’ expressions.

"Enough. There’s been more than enough stress, blood, and nerves lately," he said cheerfully. "For now, let’s enjoy the preparations. We rarely get the chance."

Silence fell again this time peaceful.

Henry leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I have a bad feeling about this," he muttered to Hans.

Hans smiled faintly.

"I have the impression this is only the beginning."

And no one at the table disagreed.

Chapter Text

The first rumors appeared almost immediately.

At first they were quiet, hesitant, as if people were afraid to say them out loud. Someone had seen more servants in the kitchen. Someone else swore a tailor had arrived from Prague. Wine began disappearing from the cellars faster than usual, and benches appeared in the courtyard that no one had yet set out.

"Something’s in the air," they said.

And then they stopped saying something.

They said it plainly - a wedding.

Henry watched it all with a certain distance, but without bitterness. He was present helping, listening, carrying crates, laughing when Hanush threw yet another sharp remark at the cooks, who carried on regardless. He felt something new in it all. Peace. As if after a long stretch of chaos, the world was finally trying to return to its proper place.

Jana was radiant. Not excessively, not ostentatiously rather quietly, naturally. Her hands rested on her stomach more and more often, and there was something soft and attentive in her gaze. Radzig, in turn, seemed more… present. As if he had truly allowed himself to believe that all of this was real, and that this time he didn’t have to hide anything.

Henry knew one thing he had been promised explanations.

And that was enough for him.

He didn’t push. He didn’t press for answers. He saw how important this was to them. How much they needed this day this symbolic closure and a new beginning. He didn’t want to be the one to shatter that calm with questions.

The days passed quickly.

Preparations swelled like a wave decorations, repeated attempts at arranging tables, endless conversations about food and wine. The scent of freshly baked bread mixed with herbs and wax. Laughter echoed through the courtyard more and more often, as if people were clinging to these moments of joy with a hint of distrust, but also with enormous relief.

Hans stayed close to Henry, as if instinctively sensing that all of this joyful as it was felt big and a little overwhelming. Sometimes they exchanged only glances, sometimes a brief smile, sometimes a brush of the shoulder while passing in a corridor. Few words. Enough.

And then, at last, the morning came one that could not be mistaken for any other.

The castle awoke earlier than usual. Bells rang out clearly, without haste, carrying their sound far beyond the walls. The air was crisp, and the light held something ceremonial, as if it knew this was the day. The servants moved about in a hush threaded with excitement, every step along the stone corridors echoing with more weight than usual.

Henry stood by the window for a moment, looking out over the courtyard. Garlands stirred gently in the breeze, tables gleamed with fresh wood, and people gathered slowly, dressed in their finest, smiles and emotion written openly on their faces.

He felt no unease.

He felt pride. And gratitude.

That they were all here. That they had survived. That after everything they had endured, they could celebrate instead of mourn.

The ceremony was simple. And precisely because of that, deeply moving.

Jana stood beside Radzig, calm and upright, her head held high. There was not a trace of doubt in her. Radzig looked at her in a way Henry rarely saw without the mask of a commander, without the weight of decisions. Simply as a man who knew he was standing exactly where he belonged.

As the priest spoke, silence fell over the courtyard. Real silence. Focused. When the vows were spoken, some people looked away, others smiled through tears.

Henry watched them closely.

Two people who had walked through fire and come back together.

When the final words of blessing were spoken and the bells rang out once more, the silence snapped like a drawn string. Applause erupted, shouts, laughter. Someone raised a cup, someone else pulled a spouse close. Music flowed almost instantly, as if it had been waiting for that very moment.

The celebration took off quickly.

Tables bowed under the weight of food, wine flowed freely, and laughter and conversation blended with the sound of lutes. Hanush was in his element, raising toast after toast, and Jana though she drank only water laughed just as openly as the rest.

For a while, Henry was right in the middle of it all. He danced, answered congratulations, accepted embraces. But at some point, he felt it was enough. That the emotions were too much, that he needed air.

He looked at Hans.

Hans looked back at him.

They didn’t need to say anything.

They withdrew slowly, unnoticed, leaving the noise and music behind. They moved deeper into the castle, where it was quieter, cooler. Stone walls muted the sounds of the celebration until only distant echoes remained.

They stopped in a window alcove.

"A lot has changed," Hans said at last, softly.

Henry nodded.

"Yes. And even more will change."

For a moment they were silent, looking up at the night sky.

"It all overwhelms me a bit," Henry admitted after a while. "But… in a good way."

Hans smiled faintly.

"Me too. That’s why it’s good we’re here together."

Henry stood by the window for a long moment before speaking again. The earlier calm inside him began to crack quietly, like ice on a river without noise, but irrevocably.

"Hans…" he began, then stopped, searching for the right words. "I’m happy. Truly. Watching them… Mom and Dad… it was good. Beautiful, even."

He turned away, resting his hands on the stone sill.

"But I’m afraid," he blurted out suddenly, sharper than he intended. "I’m afraid that… that this couldn’t just happen without consequence. That the world won’t forgive them for it."

Hans frowned slightly and stepped closer, but didn’t touch him yet. He gave him space.

"People are already talking," Henry continued more quietly. "Even before the vows. And what about tomorrow? Next week? Next year? Mom isn’t a noblewoman. And even if she were the best woman under the sun, for many that will always matter more."

He fell silent for a moment, swallowing.

"I don’t even know where they’ll live now," he added. "Whether they’ll stay here. Whether they’ll go somewhere else. What decisions have been made… and whether anyone even asked if I feel safe with them."

At last, he looked at Hans. In his eyes was something entirely different from the man who had fought, decided, and carried the weight of the world not so long ago. There was pure, childlike fear.

"And Radzig…" his voice dropped. "After today, nothing will be the same. For the other lords. For the court. For the king. They won’t forget. Even if today they drink and laugh with him."

Hans sighed softly. This time, he placed a hand on Henry’s shoulder steady, but gentle.

"Do you think he doesn’t know that?" he asked calmly. "Radzig has always known the price. And he has always paid it."

"That’s exactly why I’m afraid," Henry replied without hesitation. "Because he always takes everything on himself. And Mom… she trusts. And I don’t know if the world deserves that trust."

Hans moved closer, until they were nearly face to face.

"Henry," he said softly, stroking his cheek. They were alone here; no one paid them any attention — all eyes were on the newlyweds celebrating below. "What you’re feeling isn’t weakness. It isn’t the fear of a coward. It’s the concern of a son."

Henry lowered his gaze.

"When I was a child… a real child," he added quietly, "everything was simpler. Who was good, who was bad. Now… now I see how many shades there are. And I’m afraid those shades will swallow them."

Hans cupped his face in both hands, forcing him to meet his eyes.

"Listen to me," he said firmly, but without anger. "Your parents aren’t naive. And Radzig didn’t lose his honor today. He showed it. In a way very few would dare."

"And if they pay too high a price for it?" Henry whispered. "I don’t want that…"

Hans pulled him close, resting his forehead against Henry’s temple, then pressed a gentle kiss there.

"Then they won’t be alone," he answered without hesitation. "You’re with them. I’m with you. And that means more than you think."

Henry closed his eyes, breathing slowly, as if trying to calm something deep in his chest.

"I wish…" he began, then stopped. "I wish I could truly protect them."

Hans smiled sadly.

"You already are. By worrying. By seeing more than others."

They stood in silence for a while. From far away came music and laughter, like echoes from another world.

"Come on," Hans said quietly at last. "Today is still their day. Tomorrow we’ll worry."

Henry nodded.

But before they went back, Hans kissed Henry tenderly.

"Remember, Hal… you’re not alone."

He smiled and tugged him along toward the stairs.

"Or they’ll drink all the wine without us!"

Chapter Text

When the music faded and the last laughter dissolved into the night air, the wedding celebration died down slowly, like embers beneath ash. Only a few figures remained in the courtyard servants clearing benches, a handful of guests leaning against columns with wine in hand and heavy eyelids.

Henry was tired already. Not physically not entirely but in a deeper way, as if the entire day had squeezed every last drop of emotion from him. He stood off to the side of the hall with Hans when he noticed Radzig and Jana heading toward them.

And he knew immediately.

"It’s late already," he said faster than he intended, before they could speak. "You’re tired. It’s been a long day. We’ll talk tomorrow, alright?"

He even smiled a little too politely. A little too adult.

Jana looked at Radzig, then back at her son. There was no reproach in her eyes only tenderness, and something else. Attentiveness.

"We promised," she said calmly. "And we know you’re trying to escape."

Radzig raised an amused brow.

"You’ve always been terrible at that," he added. "Even as a child."

Henry sighed, lifting his hands in surrender.

"Alright. But not here. Not now. Let’s go… somewhere quieter."

They didn’t argue. They said brief goodbyes to Hans and the others, then headed toward the stairs leading to the private chambers. The castle was nearly asleep now. The stone beneath their feet was cool, the air hushed, as if the world itself were making room for this conversation.

Only when the chamber door closed behind them did Henry take a deeper breath.

"I don’t want to ruin this day for you," he began at once. "I really don’t. But… I’ve got too many thoughts in my head."

Radzig leaned against the table, arms crossed. Jana sat on the bench, hands folded in her lap.

"Speak," she said softly.

Henry hesitated only for a moment.

"I’m afraid," he blurted out. "For you. For what comes next. For what people will say. Mom isn’t a noblewoman, Father just… well…" He faltered, searching for words. "…just showed everyone he doesn’t care. And the world doesn’t like it when someone stands up to it."

Radzig snorted quietly but said nothing yet.

"I don’t know where you’ll live. What you’re planning. Whether someone will take it away from you. Whether you’ll pay too high a price for this," Henry continued, faster now, as if afraid that if he stopped, he wouldn’t finish. "And I don’t want to wake up one day and find out that..."

He stopped.

Radzig started laughing.

Not mockingly. Not loudly. It was the laughter of a man hearing someone circle the truth without realizing they’re standing right in its center.

"God," he muttered, rubbing his face. "You really are my son."

Henry frowned.

"This isn’t funny."

"I know," Radzig replied. "That’s exactly why it is."

Jana shot him a warning look.

"Radzig."

"Alright, alright." He sobered, then looked back at Henry. "Son… none of what you’re worried about will happen the way you think it will."

"And how can you be so sure?" Henry asked cautiously.

Radzig was silent for a moment. Then he reached into the pouch at his belt and placed a rolled parchment on the table.

"Because this wasn’t improvised."

Henry stared at the document. Then at Jana. She was staring too clearly surprised.

"Radzig… what is this?"

"A decree," he said calmly. "Confirming your lineage, Jana. Blue blood. An old family. Nearly forgotten."

Silence fell.

"That’s… that’s impossible," she whispered. "I know who I am. Where I come from."

"Of course you do," he corrected gently. "But as we can see, lineage and upbringing… aren’t always the same."

Henry stepped forward.

"Wait. The king is missing. Who signed this?"

Radzig lifted his gaze to him.

"It was signed years ago."

"Years ago?"

"Yes." He sighed. "I prepared it long ago. When I first realized I didn’t want to hide you anymore. Or her. But back then… I lacked the courage. The document remained. I truly made peace with the fact I’d never use it. I meant to destroy it. I’m glad I didn’t. Especially now it would be difficult to get Wenceslas to sign it."

Jana stared at him, eyes wide.

"This is deception," she said quietly. "People."

"People accept what they’re given when the right authority stands behind it," he cut in. "They won’t challenge a decree bearing the king’s seal. And I’ve done too many favors for this realm for anyone to dare say no now."

Henry stared at the parchment as if it suddenly weighed a ton.

"So… everything was planned."

"Yes," Radzig admitted. "Only the timing was wrong. Then came wars, blood, fear. Today… today I didn’t want to turn back anymore."

Silence fell. Heavy. Dense.

Jana spoke first.

"There’s something else you don’t know," she said, looking at Henry.

He raised his eyes.

"What?"

She smiled that same quiet, gentle smile he’d seen for weeks now.

"You’re going to have a sibling… I’m almost certain it’s a girl, Henry. We wanted to name her Žofie."

The world froze for a moment.

"What?" he managed.

Radzig straightened, proud as hell.

"In a few months. God willing."

Henry stood motionless. Then he sank heavily onto the bench.

"You…" he huffed, rubbing his face. "You really don’t do anything halfway." He took a deep breath. "It’s a beautiful name."

Jana laughed softly and stepped forward, wrapping him in her arms.

"You see?" she whispered. "You worried about everything… and we’ve been trying to put all of this together for a long time, my love."

She was still holding Henry by the shoulders when Radzig cleared his throat quietly, as if only now moving on to the last thing he’d saved for the end.

"There are two more matters," he said calmly. "And this one’s the most practical."

Henry looked up.

"To answer your question for now, we’ll live here," Radzig announced. "In Rattay. The castle is large, safe, and people are already used to your mother. Jana will also have ideal conditions here for the child and the birth. I can’t imagine her giving birth in some forest without help."

"I somehow managed to give birth to Henry, Radzig," Jana retorted, rolling her eyes. "If you men were the ones giving birth, humanity would’ve gone extinct long ago. And what do you mean, for now?" she repeated, frowning. "Radzig…"

"And construction will begin shortly in Sasu."

Silence.

Henry blinked.

"Construction of what?"

"A castle," Radzig replied, as if talking about repairing a roof. "Small, but solid. On a hill, by the river. Good location. Strategic. Peaceful."

Jana stepped away from Henry and stared at Radzig in disbelief.

"You… what?" she whispered. "Since when?"

"For a long time," he answered. "The land was secured before the war. Stone contracted. Plans ready. I was only waiting for the moment when I wouldn’t have to retreat anymore."

Henry let out a short, incredulous laugh.

"When did you do all of this?"

"In between putting out the kingdom’s fires," Radzig waved it off. "And between one battle and the next. You’d be surprised how much time is wasted then." He laughed at their expressions.

Jana shook her head, still stunned.

"Radzig… I didn’t know…"

"I know," he replied more gently. "I wanted certainty before saying anything. I don’t want to throw words to the wind anymore."

Henry was quiet for a moment, rearranging the world in his head Rattay as a stop, Sasu as the future, a castle that didn’t yet exist but already belonged to them.

"So… you won’t be left without a roof over your heads," he murmured. "Or without standing."

"No," Radzig confirmed. "And no one will be able to take it from you."

He hesitated, then reached into his pouch once more.

"And there’s one more thing."

He pulled out a second parchment. Smaller, carefully rolled, sealed with a heavy red royal seal. He handed it to Henry.

"This is for you."

Henry looked at the document, then at his father.

"What is it?"

"Open it."

He did so slowly. The letters were clear. Official. Too official.

He read it once. Then again.

"Legitimized son," he whispered. "Lawfully recognized. Heir."

He looked up.

"Father…"

"From today, you bear my name," Radzig finished calmly. "Not as a secret. Not as an assumption. Officially."

Jana covered her mouth with her hand.

"You… you did all of this…" she whispered.

"For you," he interrupted softly. "And for him." He stepped closer to his son and placed a hand on his cheek. "I want you to know I could not have wished for a better son."

Warmth spread through Henry’s chest, and something tightened in his throat. For a moment, he couldn’t find his voice.

"And if…" he began, then stopped. "If someone asks why only now?"

Radzig shrugged.

"I’ll tell the truth. That I was a coward for too long. And that I don’t intend to be one anymore. Henry, this isn’t your burden it’s mine. You’re a young man, your whole life ahead of you. Leave some things to your parents. That’s what we’re here for."

Silence fell. Not heavy. Rather… full.

Henry slowly rolled the parchment back up and handed it to his father.

"Alright," he said quietly. "But if you turn my world upside down without warning again…"

"Then what?" Radzig raised a brow.

"At least do it after breakfast," Henry muttered.

Jana laughed softly and pulled her son into an embrace.

"Welcome to the family," she whispered. "A real one. With plans, mess, and secrets."

Henry hugged her back carefully.

"It’d be boring without secrets," he murmured. "And I think… I think I like it."

And somewhere beyond the castle walls, night gave way to morning one that brought not chaos, but a future…

To be continued…