PoeticImageNotFound
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It was 1419, sixteen years had passed since the Siege of Suchdol, and Bohemia sat on a knife’s edge.
When friend and foe stood on both sides of a battlefield, there was no such thing as neutrality in war.
Or the one where Hanush had been right. Hans’ importance had only grown over the years. The only issue was that sometimes he felt he was not enough of a man to fill his own shoes.
Series
- Part 2 of four articles
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 186,487
- Chapters:
- 46/48
- Comments:
- 523
- Kudos:
- 298
- Bookmarks:
- 50
- Hits:
- 10,858
Bookmarked by PoeticImageNotFound
21 Jun 2026
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The Scent Of Sex and Almond Oil by IPegYourBardon for Pinapples
Fandoms: Kingdom Come: Deliverance (Video Games)
28 Feb 2026
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Henry has been away for a fortnight. He misses Hans and rushes back to ride him.
Bookmarked by PoeticImageNotFound
21 Jun 2026
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Collection where I will post my kcd and hansry art (including explicit art)
This is not a written workBookmarked by PoeticImageNotFound
21 Jun 2026
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“Is that what it is? A kingfisher?” Hans hums, and his head sways.
“Used to be,” Henry offers a smile he hopes is reassuring as he turns the leathery talisman in his palm. “Supposed to guard you from bad luck.”
“Oh, it didn’t do a very good job now, did it?” Hans’ eyes find his. “You and your birds, Hal… Nightingales and robins and yellowhammers.”
“My lord.”
“Promise me, hm?” Hans smiles. “You’ll think of me each time you think of birds.”
“Hans-”
“I reckon that’ll be plenty,” the young lord smiles again: the trickle of blood from his temple runs down his cheek. “It will work better to guard you, too, from any harm and any bad luck.”
“Hans, you need to stay awake. Please.”
“Maybe I’ll even haunt you, eh?” Something akin to a laugh erupts from his chest in a short, meagre burst. “Better than Toth, too, I promise.”After Suchdol and all the pain and tenderness it brought, Henry of Skalitz and his lord Hans Capon of Pirkstein steal some time for themselves: as summer dies and turns to autumn, and to winter cold, they choose to court each other with great honesty and love.
Even if they wear different names and play the riskiest game of pretend Bohemia has ever seen.
Series
- Part 3 of Infaustus
Bookmarked by PoeticImageNotFound
21 Jun 2026
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Freckles on his shoulders, an old scar just under the collarbone from a wound Henry wasn’t there to defend him from, once. More lost details, more differences, more that persists only in Henry’s mind. Oh, to capture this, to sculpt or carve it. To be able to hold it in his hand with such pressure that it breaks the skin. To absorb it and let it absorb him.
Hans carves Henry a wooden figure of himself. Through blood and killing and stealing and coming home, it becomes the only real thing.
Series
- Part 37 of altar
Bookmarked by PoeticImageNotFound
21 Jun 2026