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“You must be the first and only nobleman who got dumped by a commoner.” Or two of them. Worth a laugh or two, under other circumstances. Circumstances that didn't center around a man of delicate nature.
“Supportive as ever, Hanush,” Radzig muttered, kicking his feet into the quiet water beneath. Only after seeing the chain reaction it caused, he slumped his shoulders even more, mentally berating his fit of childishness. Hardly surprising, he mused, that she would have chosen somebody older, wiser, more mature.
He was no match for either of them. Competing with Martin’s strength and the sheer respect he commanded, or with Anne’s kindness, the way she laughed along with life and all its obstacles. Who was he, compared to them? It was only fair they ended up together. They made a good couple. He had nothing to offer, nothing that would matter in the end.
Hanush had always had the (terrifying and quite maddening) ability to know exactly what was swirling inside Radzig‘s head. He watched the younger man, his eyes the opposite of his words – thoughtful, kind, sympathetic. “What about the kid?” he asked.
He winced at the words the moment they left his lips. Radzig’s shoulders slumped even more. It was a small miracle that he still looked out for Hanush’s company, asked for it, even after all those careless remarks. For Hanush might have been blessed with reading Radzig’s mind, he was cursed with the inability to act accordingly, to say the right things. To make it all right.
“He’s… healthy,” Radzig muttered. Suddenly, a fragile smile fluttered itself into life on his lips, and he bowed his head. “I held him,” he added, smug. “When he was born, I held him in my arms.” So tiny, so vulnerable, so beautiful, his eyes said.
Hanush, in his twenty years of walking upon this earth, did not have a child of his own. He never lived through the joys and worries of it, not yet, and it was startlingly sobering to see another man of his age feeling it but having to dispel it, hide it. For a man who felt deeply, it was the worst fate. Just as impossible it was to imagine himself with family, it was impossible to imagine Radzig without one.
Alas, this time of swinging legs side by side, a pond of still water underneath, was not ideal for such discussion. Hanush had been working tirelessly on the image of a simpleton of a man who would sooner choke on his more tender feelings than voice them, let alone discuss them openly with another man. If it’s something that cannot be screamed at the top of the lungs and won’t insult or make laugh anyone, keep it inside, he liked to say. “Let’s hope he won’t inherit your giant forehead then,” he sniffed, flicking Radzig’s forehead.
There. He did all he could.
Radzig only snorted, unable to hide his amusement. Then he rubbed his forehead with his palm, his eyes clearing up a bit. He would be fine tonight. Forcedly dragged away with stupid childish remarks and flicks of fingers, far away from the edge of quiet madness he craved to embrace at times. The stillness of his mind, the dimness of his eyes, the falseness of his smiles. He would be fine tonight, and every time after that, every time Hanush had any say about it.
Maybe they should both stop living in their childish dreams. Radzig and his loyal soldier, Radzig and the common girl in his village, Radzig and another nobleman. All of that simply couldn’t work, all of that had failed and left him in shambles, yet he couldn’t learn. Hanush was no better.
He thought, for a single second or maybe three, that he would take the other man’s hand, a gesture he hadn’t offered in over three years.
In the first year, they admitted how unwise their friendship was. Radzig squeezed the hand, wordlessly, in thanks and goodbye and apology, and left.
In the second year, Radzig found the girl and fell in love. It looked good for a while, and Hanush had found it in himself to be happy for him. Now that Radzig had a woman, Hanush could go and find himself one, too. It wouldn’t be fair for Hanush to have a family when Radzig didn’t have one.
In the third year, Martin, Radzig’s closest and most trusted companion, yet another man he couldn’t marry, fell in love with the said girl and took her as his wife. She gave birth to Radzig’s son and Martin took care of him and loved him as if he were his own blood.
Hanush remained, and watched the heart he once held in his hands shatter and bleed. How fucking unfair, then. How fucking unfair for him to be the only one of them who was unwanted in the end, rejected and left yearning, and yet for him to be the only one who remained, who picked up the shards of Radzig’s heart.
Fucking unfair, and yet–
He kicked his feet into the still water beneath, angry at the world, on Radzig’s behalf just as on his own. He still wanted to reach out and hold the smaller hand, just to try and speak his language, but it felt so absurd, so strange. They had come to an understanding, after all. They had never voiced a single word of the understanding, but Hanush did have a knack for translating Radzig’s looks and gestures. They didn’t have to breathe a word about all that, they didn’t have to name it or deny it, and it was less painful that way. “How about a spar?” he offered in the end.
“I am not going against your mace again, Hanush,” Radzig snorted again, still watching the fallen leaves quietly floating on the surface.
“I’ll take the longsword this time. My treat, eh?”
“You think beating a friend bloody is going to lift my spirits?” Radzig asked, calm, but there was a strange tone to his voice, nothing of the incredulousness he was probably aiming for. Instead – something very soft and somewhat amused, and fond, if Hanush let himself hope.
“Is it?” he grumbled and kicked into the pond again. He could already hear the servants sighing at the sight of him, and his brothers laughing at the squelching sounds he would be making while trying to sneak around their rooms.
Radzig snorted again, nothing of the dignified lord he had to act like for the rest of his days. “It might,” he muttered, and Hanush jumped to his feet, already laughing.
“Thank you,” Radzig would say later, much later when they both would be lying on the grass, panting for breath and nursing new wounds.
“That’s what friends are here for,” Hanush would reply, boisterous as ever, his voice booming over the quiet evening fields. Radzig rarely needed help with anything, too proud to ask, but by God above, should the need ever arise, Hanush would be there.