KCD Fic Recs
Will update as needed. After I've actually played kcd2 I'll likely expand this considerably. Mostly hansry and isterik but other stuff too.
Lavender's Green by DiscretionaryLigatures
After their victory at Suchdol, Henry and Hans live happily ever after-- but how? When social pressures assert their claim, can the lovers build a life for themselves?
astra inclinant, sed non obligant by audentesfortunaiuvatt
Their horses slow with the incline of the rolling hills, and Hans can’t help but steal glances towards Henry more often than he dare admit. His hair is fairer in the sunlight, his eyes brighter, his smile more radiant. The beauty of all the wildflowers in the meadow are nothing compared to the rider beside him, swept up in his own tales of a simpler time. This is surely what the poets meant when they spoke of longing, of devotion, of something so much greater than yourself. Of love. _____ Days at the Devil's Den in the aftermath of Suchdol and the freedom to explore something new.
Mandrake Schnapps by Ashertmarn
There’s no flattering way to mention that there are times that it feels like there is something rotten beneath his skin, that the only way to get it out would be to peel it off. So he doesn’t. Henry doesn't have the words for why his nightmares are as often about sex as they are about bloody battles, or why dancing with pretty girls sometimes makes him feel like he's dying. And if he doesn't understand it himself, how can he possibly expect anyone else to? or Five times Henry doesn't understand that what Doubravka did to him was wrong, and one time Hans helps him realise it was.
Rosehip Tea by Ashertmarn
After everything, Henry and Hans find some space for themselves away from everyone. There's a lot of work to do if they want it to be habitable by winter, which is lucky, because Henry needs the distraction. Distraction from the dreams, which are terrible. And the thoughts, which are worse.
Sharpen Your Knife by Ashertmarn
Godwin doesn't blame Henry for turning to drink, he's certainly been through more than enough to warrant it, but when it starts causing problems, it's Godwin that has to step in. But Godwin's no saint, and with his own demons nipping at his heels, what help does he truly have to offer?
To Distant Isles by jef379
After Suchdol, Henry finds himself unable to cope with the quiet, and unable to reconcile his feelings for Hans with his duty to Lord Capon. Picking up the bottle feels as natural as picking up the sword.
Henry’s Saviour Schnapps [Translation from chinese] by sweetpea2022
"If you could, would you ever go back to a certain moment in the past?" Henry had asked Father Godwin this question more than once. A drunk Godwin would tell him, "Tempus fugit, et non revertitur." (Time flies and never returns.) A sober Godwin, on the other hand, would say that he wouldn't mind squeezing the bathhouse mistress’s tits in Uzhitz one more time. And yet, for some reason, out of all the moments in his life, Henry kept returning to one endless sunset in Nebakov—Hans Capon, twenty years old, leaning against the railing on the second floor of the fortress, golden hair gleaming in the setting sun. From that moment on, every angel Henry ever imagined bore his likeness.
A Father’s Claim by Too_Many_Rooks
When his injured, exhausted son had burst into Pirkstein’s hall after disappearing without word into Vranik, the last thing Henry had said before collapsing feverishly into his arms had been a furious, bewildered, begging whisper of ‘father?’ His son was battered and bruised, but not broken. As it always was, with Henry. God above, as it always would be, he’d prayed, over and over again, sitting vigil at Henry’s bedside; for the first time in either of their lives being allowed the simple domesticity of sitting beside his sick child, worrying, and waiting for him to get better. —- Henry and Radzig, after Vranik, after learning the truth, having a vital conversation before they both ride to war.
In the Service of Lords by QuillSpirit15971
Beside him, Radzig sighed, tapping his hand against the railing in thought. “The point is, Henry, that quite a lot of people have laid claim on you, and now the dust has settled, that needs to be addressed.” He turned away from the railing then, facing Henry straight on. Henry didn’t move to mirror him, frozen in place, staring at the golden figure dancing down below him. “So, Henry. Son,” he repeated, waiting with the appearance of patience until Henry finally turned, too. “Whose are you?”
Radzig finds Henry at Hans’ wedding and asks him about his future. Henry, of course, thinks the answer simple. Radzig does not.
Before the Battle by Too_Many_Rooks
Radzig seeks out his son in the quiet moments of preparation before they march on Pribyslavitz, to give Henry some advice before his first pitched battle, and to soothe the new kind of worry that's never plagued him before a battle before, that doubtless comes from leading his one and only son into a baptism of blood, and fire.
Aspects of Henry by Too_Many_Rooks
How Zizka comes to know the remarkable young man under his command, and how, through the eyes of others, and through his deeds, he begins to see Henry in all his varying aspects; a noble's bastard, a blacksmith, a healer, an assassin, a warrior, and most of all, a traumatised boy thrown to wolves, struggling to survive.
His Liege Lord by msunitedstatesjames
In which Henry and Hans debate what comes next, who seduced who, and whether there's any point in locking the door. *** "Hans had gone very still at the mention of Radzig. Henry's liege lord. Hans forgot sometimes that Henry didn’t truly serve him. Or rather, he did, but it was only a temporary arrangement. As soon as Radzig needed Henry for something more urgent than protecting the ward of his friend, he wouldn’t hesitate to whisk him off somewhere to do what Henry did best. (Which was, apparently, everything.) And there was very little Hans could do about it."
miserere mei, Deus by eyes_of_the_lamb
Then Capon clambers into bed with him, extinguishing Henry’s last flicker of hope that this was a bad joke after all. There’s a bit of a shuffle while Capon gets comfortable and Henry stews in the curious sensation of a warm body pressed back-to-back against his. He’s slept with girls before, and Mutt, and once, years ago, he even shared a hayloft with Matthew and Fritz… but this is different. This is Capon. Sir Hans Capon of Pirkstein. Henry’s lord.
Henry and Hans share a bed at Trosky Castle. Twice. And a beast wakes in Henry, one he thought chained and abandoned to the dark long ago. Disturbed, newly unsure of himself, and afraid he can't be the protector his lord needs, Henry seeks aid from an unexpected quarter: Lord von Bergow's silver-tongued swordmaster. Set during the canon storyline; spoilers through Nebakov.
lingua canum by eyes_of_the_lamb
“How did you…” Hans trails off as Henry rises to his feet, every movement taut as stretched leather. The birds screech in the trees; Henry turns his back to the fire, to Hans, and gazes across the overlook into the forest below. His gloved hands are in fists by his sides. Morning light glints faintly on the rusted rivets of his brigandine. Here it comes, whispers a faint voice in the back of Hans’s head.
Henry tracks down a poacher in the woods. Unrelated: Lord Hans Capon is experiencing possibly the lowest moment of his life to date. One thing leads to another, someone takes a sword (?) wound in the thigh, and everything gets more complicated. Set during the canon KCD 2 storyline; spoilers for the Bird of Prey quest.
Not In Blood But In Bond by gondolinarchivist
When Henry swings off of Pebbles in the courtyard of Pirkstein, dusty with travel and tired from the road, it is not his lord, or even his lady, who greets him first. “Hal!” Heinrich, his little child-voice high and excitable, outruns his nurse as he dashes to Henry. “Hal, Hal, Hal!” - Alternate title: A Day In The Life of Uncle Hal A little snapshot into how Henry navigates his life, Hans’s marriage, and most if all, Hans’s little boy.
Whatever It Takes by MovingPen
After single-handedly freeing Hans from Maleshov, Henry realizes there are fewer and fewer lines he's not willing to cross. [In which Henry is an exceptionally skilled killer even though he doesn't want to be, Hans gets a glimpse of the horrors carried out in his name, and they both take a well-deserved rest.]
but time makes you bolder by Brittnodo
Henry and Sir Radzig find common ground in uncommon circumstances, and bond over tumultuous stories of love and quiet sacrifice. (Or, Henry and Hans are painfully obvious in their affections and Radzig decides a father-son road trip is in order before he loses his mind.)
by a heel by rednightmare
[Podfic here]
God’s truth: It does not occur to Henry until the moment he spies Hans’s heel hanging over the edge of the hangman’s block at Trosky that Birdie of Pirkstein could ever die. My take on For Whom the Bell Tolls. KCD2 spoilers for said quest. One shot, canon outcome with an established relationship flair
With Horn and Leash by rednightmare
It is Henry’s first winterhunt, and wolves are howling in the fields. Hans cannot understand why everyone is so afraid. A KCD1-era deep dive into the issue of class and what it means for Hans & Henry's present as well as their future. Hansry, established relationship. Implied Bianca/Theresa.
Pray The Sun May Rise by isnt_it_pretty
Henry should be the one standing here, triumphant in his long-await victory and finally laying to rest the spirits of Skalitz he carries on his shoulders, but Henry is god-knows-where, trapped in von Bergow’s hands, and so Hans will do it in his stead.
Lavender by isnt_it_pretty
Falling off the damn cliff did a number on him in more ways than one.
Ad Pacem by onlystars
Hans doesn’t do it to spite Hanush. That’s just an additional pleasure. Or: All roads lead to Constantinople.
Infaustus by vrisadefer
To young lord Hans Capon of Pirkstein, no matter whether he was the son of a village blacksmith or a noble's bastard, Henry was no more than a dog. The moment the dog dared to disobey, all he was good for was to be kicked, and all he could hope for is that the lord, in his infinite noble wisdom, wouldn't deem him rabid—and put him down. Let it be so, then. If he was an unruly dog, hungering after something he had no right to, then he was already damned. God can't help him. His soul was already lost—the leash to it in different hands than God's. Henry tries to bury all the conflicting feelings about his lord somewhere deep. But was born under an unlucky star, after all: the world won't let him keep these things buried for too long. A study of Henry's state of mind after Laboratores until For Victory!; exploration of his own fears and desires he struggles to understand. Canon compliant, extended: filling in the gaps. Misunderstood religious misery, self-discovery, shameless dog motif, power imbalance and crossing the class divide; two absolute fools in horrible, horrible love.
Omnia Vincit Amor by goldenhart
Love conquers all: let us, too, yield ourselves to love. The Lord of Rattay is married. His beloved watches from afar.
The Art of Courtly Love by goldenhart
Rattay, 1409. A loyal knight-at-arms returns from battle, sick at heart of bloodshed and war. His lord tries to ease his sorrow, if only for the night.
Prayer Before Morning by rednightmare
[Podfic here]
At Christmastime, even Hans must go to church. Because he is still Hans, he brings Henry along. Winter-themed sugary fic with a hard shot of lordship angst. One shot. KCD2 SPOILER-FREE.
In Spring by rednightmare
Spring cannot last forever. Eventually, he will grow up. An exploration of the end of Lord Capon’s extended adolescence, and the animals left unhunted. Vignettes, one-shot.
Wildflowers in Bohemia by gondolinarchivist
The Lady of Rattay, and a girl who had once laughed in Skalitz. What does the story look like when Hans and Henry are women, born into a world where they are not free to live, or to love, as men are?
The Kind That Burns by sk3l3m4n
Henry thinks he might have a fever. It’s the only reasonable explanation for the deep churning whirlpool of nausea in his stomach, not to mention the sweating and shivering he’s desperately been trying to hide all day. All week, really. Ever since he and Hans rode back into Rattay, a lord and his loyal servant once again. No longer on equal footing, at least not in the public eye. Henry knows it’s not an intentional slight on the part of his friend, but there’s a guilty kernel of resentment in his heart for having been abandoned so Hans can marry someone else. ‘Someone else’, he sounds like a fool. Even if the lord hadn’t been promised to Jitka of Kunstadt, it’s not like that would’ve freed him up to walk hand-in-hand with Henry. Things just don’t work that way.
Lost in the Trees by rednightmare
In the monastery, among the monks of St. Benedict, Brother Gregor learns how to live a life of God. Request fill: Henry uses his time in the monastery to reflect on his life—as it is, and as it used to be, and his relationship with Lord Capon.
All water under the bridge by neodyymi
Henry lay back against the hay, hands folded across his chest, eyes tracing the beams overhead. The silence held – not exactly awkward, but still thick with all that hadn’t been said. Beside him, he could hear Hans breathing, slow and shallow, and somehow he knew that sleep wouldn’t come easily for either of them that night.
The Torment of a Scorpion by Dovahbeeotch
Hans learns that Henry hasn't been entirely honest about what happened during his time in Trosky's dungeon, after Nebakov. A conversation they probably should have had sober, in hindsight.
You Are My Hammer and Weapon of War by Ashertmarn
Henry used to care when he killed people. Now he doesn't. Hans reckons with the question of who's to blame.
rainfall by rowanisawriter
“Baths tomorrow morning,” Hans says. “And you can finish telling me about your monastery adventures. And why it took you so goddamn long to finish your task and return to m—to Rattay.” Henry takes another sip. “Alright, Sir Hans.” In the dim glow of light at their table, he can see freckles across Henry’s nose, and some peeling along his hairline from a healing stretch of sunburn. Details he’s missed over the past few weeks. He reaches for him without thinking, then lets his hand drop on the table between them. Henry watches this display with an unreadable expression. A stillness. Outside, the rain continues to fall, loud and clear. “We must drag Gregor out of you,” Hans tells him. Henry nods. “Yes. We must.” Gregor returns from the monastery on a rainy day.
Hair O' The Dog by Dovahbeeotch
Hans has horrendous habits, destructive whims and above all, the power to do whatever the fuck he’s inclined, whenever the fuck he’s inclined to. Henry is keenly aware that he falls into the broad canopy that is ‘Hans’ destructive whims’. That night they acted on impulse, on lust and in Henry’s case, on greed.
in some other realm (you are waiting for me) by eldritchcow
Hans dies at Suchdol and wakes up at Rocktower Pond.
Blooming Within by NormieTown
A weird sickness, said to be a curse from Satan planting a seed inside different folk. Only love can treat it as demons fear pureness. There has been records of forced marriages established to save the dying yet none of them worked. So, Henry's only hope is finding the person he loves and being loved back. Defeated, Henry sighs and glances at Hans. OR: Hanahaki AU, Henry yearns for Hans so much he nearly suffocates from his feelings (literally)
"Tys původ všeho dobrého" by Kubbitus
"You, the origin of all things good." - Translation of the title. - Lyrical poetry by Fridrich Bridel. He's very young. Pavel thinks he might look younger than he actually is, but even so. His eyes are huge, and they dart about with a fear Pavel can't quite place. It's the look of a student caught out at a lesson, but it's also the look of prey, and also the look of a predator that doesn't know what it's doing. Pavel has survived many a year through sizing up other men quickly, and something about this one makes him pause. It's oddly charming, and Pavel likes him immediately. A retelling in full of Henry's time in the monastery. Or at least how it went in our hearts.
my voice will haunt you by Brittnodo
Skalitz burns but one less victim is claimed. Rattay thrives but the walls are closing in on its heir. Lost in their own ways, Anna and Hans find common ground in uncommon circumstances, and bond over tumultuous stories of love and loud sacrifice. (Or, a world where Henry’s mother survives, Henry and Hans are still painfully obvious in their affections, and Radzig still is about to lose his mind, but at least he has company this time.)
in manibus tuis by eyes_of_the_lamb
"Shall we?” “We? What d’you mean, we?” “I mean exactly what I said, you pedantic peasant.” Capon smirks, pleased at his own wordplay, though the smile doesn’t touch the uncertainty in his eyes. “I’ve had more than enough of sitting on my arse. If Zizka’s sending you somewhere, I’m going with you.” Hans Capon and his squire ride out side by side to track down Hynek the Dry Devil's old band. It'll be just like old times: wine, women, and song. Surely neither of them have changed since they set out from Rattay to deliver a message together. Surely their ironclad bond of friendship isn't starting to crack and give way to new, tender feelings neither of them have the words or inclination to describe. It's simple brotherly affection that makes them so loathe to leave each other's side, even for a moment. Right? Or: what if the middle act of Kingdom Come: Deliverance 2 was a 2-player game?
daffodils and daisies by ladyredms
In the bloody aftermath of Brother Gregor's stay at the monastery, Lucas can't avoid suspicion, nor the weight of his own guilt. His prayers for salvation won't bring it - but they lead him to a path that might one day find it.
The Kingdom of the Ring Finger by Domoda
1404. The night before Lord Capon's wedding, Henry is exiled from Rattay. The reason is never given. 1423. After nearly twenty years, Hans Capon reappears on Henry's doorstep with a very strange request. It's been a long time. How much has changed, and how much stays the same?
Eyes on the Road Ahead by LucienLaDance
Henry and Hans find themselves trapped in a ruined town with a dark history. Reeling from a brutal ambush, they grapple with new dangers, an uncertain future ahead and their own fraught but tender love. All the while a mystery unfolds in the wreckage. A twisty post-canon adventure story.
A Short List of Things Hans Capon Knows by Nebulad
"Jesus Christ, I'm coming—" The door opened and Henry took Capon in. He was in his braies, his wheat-brown hair dishevelled and nettle-green eyes bleary as he squinted, trying to comprehend why Henry was standing in his doorway in the wee hours. "Hal? You look like shit." "Did you know?" he asked, breathless. "Did I know what?" He leaned against the doorway, bracing himself and letting his arms tense. On another man, Henry might have taken it for a sign of aggression—Hans was just showing off, a toothy grin on his face. "Did you fucking know?" he shouted, and Hans quickly went pale. "Are you fucking insane? Keep your voice down, you complete barbarian."
For Duty, There Are No Bounds by Supernova95
Henry’s lungs burned as he sprinted through the darkness of the forests of Pribyslavitz. Pain laced like lightning across his back from where a Cuman had managed to strike him when the last barrel of arrows had been slow to ignite. This was supposed to be a stealth mission. Kurva. Sir Radzig was going to be so disappointed in him.
Leucovorin, Zovirax, and AZT by isnt_it_pretty
June 1995: Henry starts his twelve-hour shift on the AIDS ward of St. Vincent’s Hospital, New York City, where he meets the newest admission, Hans Capon, a pretty blond with fluttering eyes and a taste for attractive nurses.
If You're Not By My Side by Hirrient
You didn’t see the look in Erik’s eyes at Sigismund’s camp, Henry wanted to say. You didn’t hear the madness in his laugh. You don’t understand how it feels to loose everything. What you’d give—take— just to stop the burning. Henry did. -- Henry can't lay down the sword after Suchdol while Erik still poses a threat to the man he loves more than his own life. Hans asks himself where he went wrong when Henry disappears in the night without a word for months, leaving him to face his forced betrothal alone. Jitka never wanted to marry anyone, and sometimes... sometimes she does bad things. How can you stand strong at another's side when the battles are still clashing in your head and you're crumbling within? A story about trauma, healing, and being truly known and loved— flaws and all.
Sweet majesty and awful love sit smiling on his brow by billsboo
“Last time I was here I killed a man." “Last time you saw me you let me live.” — After escaping Sasau Monastery, Henry slows down to grapple with all he's experienced over the past few weeks. In Pribyslavitz a familar face resurfaces to bring him closure.
The Long Awaited Renewal of Pirkstein's Gardens by Nebulad
"N-Not," she added hastily, shaking herself out of Skalitz in time to realise that she probably sounded deranged to this woman who'd known nothing but secondhand stories of violence her whole life, "Not that I intend to become some wild assassin!" "Of course not," Lady Jitka said firmly. "And I wouldn't ask that of you...but it does bring me comfort, to know that I do not ask something impossible of you." That, of all things, was what compelled Tess to agree in the end. Jitka hadn't shaken old memories out of the thicket just to have something to talk about; rather, she'd hoped that like Henry, Theresa could be trusted with terror, with pain and rage and fear, and rise to it. To conquer it. No other woman could offer what Theresa could, and so she packed what few belongings she had—even now, still compelled to live lightly enough to flee and not miss anything—and followed Lady Jitka to Pirkstein.
two steps on the water by zythepsary
"Are you cold?" Henry asked. Without armor, in hose and gambeson, he was still an imposing figure: tall and broad, hands stained with dirt and blood, jaw stubbornly stiff. His bare feet were a shock of white in the dirt. He held his helm with both hands, embracing the metal into his belly. His hair was damp with sweat. There was another string of bruises on his throat, shaped like two wide thumbs. Hans looked away. The tunic around Henry's knee had darkened. Blood was trickling into the dirt. Hans kills a man, prepares for a wedding, and tries to do at least one thing right. (Or: five times Hans and Henry didn't share a bed, and one time they did.)
It Was Like Hell, It Was Like Skalitz by bohemias_best_boarhunter
Something in him built and expanded, a pressure forcing through him that he couldn’t control – painful and intense like boiling water in a pot with a closed lid. His finger slipped on the buckle on his shoulder again. He threw his hands down and screamed; the frustration and exhaustion and pain exploding out of him in a howl. He drew his breath back in with a ragged sob, and the floor hit his knees. His useless hands landed stiff and half curled in his lap. “Henry? Jesus Christ, what is happening?” — Henry struggles with his armour and the memories after the attack on the Jewish Quarter, luckily Hans is there to help. Hansryweek - Day 6 - Fandom favourites day 1: Doffing armour
The following are isterik fics:
Desideria by vrisadefer
Se Probare by invictus6
Had those hands that now dispense charity not killed and maimed, and gored, and stolen, and choked the last mortal breath out of the bodies of fellow men? Had that brow that now furrows over brewing soothing and healing decoctions not furrowed over deadly poison, too, and potions that bring pain and suffering and rot? Had those eyes that now look up at holy altars with reverence not looked at others with rage, and jealousy, and vile lust? Had this heart that now pounds in his chest like a bell of the monastery not hungered after things forbidden? Had it not rejoiced in dealing pain just as much as it had in helping others? Henry casts aside the Benedictine habit after ten strange and sacred days among monks and hymns. Then, to infiltrate Vranik in the service of his liege lord, he puts on a mask—one of cruelty, corruption, and violence— and it proves to slip on a bit too easily. He wears it well—and the comfort of it terrifies him. An expansion of Henry’s time in Vranik: facing his own dark desires while vying for Erik’s favour—and then facing his worst fears the moment he loses that favour, suddenly and irrevocably.
to be so loved by translorastyrell (nerddowell)
Sometimes he wonders if he wears gloves not to disguise the scars webbing silver over his already fair skin, but to cover the bloodstains he sees whenever he closes his eyes. He wears black for the same reason: in its total absence of light, it absorbs everything. Tears, blood, shit; black is black, and nothing thrown at it will change that.
After the mysterious Ištván Tóth raids his village, Erik, a 17-year-old peasant, is swept up in war and politics, learning how to navigate his new dangerous lifestyle while his relationship with Ištván evolves from hesitant servitude into blasphemous fixation. (or: Kingdom Come: Deliverance, from the perspective of Erik rather than Henry.)
Nunc scio quid sit amor by Lamina2505
By day, Istvan led a band of outlaws and mercenaries – broken men like him, orphaned by war, disillusioned by God. By night, they burned villages, looted merchants’ caravans, and killed without songs or banners. There were no righteous causes left, no sides worth dying for. Only the steel of a sword on his belt and the clink of stolen coins in his pouch brought him some comfort. Then God or the Devil himself sent him the boy.
Kiss Me on the Mouth by Leo_is_alive
Istvan and Erik discuss Henry and Erik grows rather needy for affirmation. Istvan is glad to assist- though, Erik seems to want something different than usual. AKA erik blows istvan and the old man tries to not pass out
Heavy heart by ONeophyte
Usually, Istvan was far more talkative. Not chatty, but always ready with something to say — some sharp little truth, some quiet wisdom to share with a friend on the road. He liked to say, for example, that war had two hands. One takes, the other gives — one will catch you by the throat no matter how you squirm, and the other you must reach for yourself. Or that every goodbye always ends with a reunion — over wine, or in the Devil’s pot. And that only fools call Death a homewrecker, when there’s no better procuress to be found.
Aegri somnia vana by neodyymi
To Ištván's great satisfaction, Erik turned toward him, a drunken smile spreading across the boy’s face as their gazes met. Erik’s striking eyes, dark as the void yet clouded with the warmth of honeyed mead, still held a sharpness that betrayed his ever-present awareness. His broad frame, slightly hunched from the grueling hours of battle and travel, seemed almost regal in the flickering firelight. As subtly as he possibly could, Ištván nodded towards the stairs, leaving his fine wine half-finished. Knowing all too well that his Erik would soon follow.
Without Asking by vaultboywholived
They laugh. They curse. They fuck like they’ll never get the chance again. And beneath all that — something steadier. Something like love, if either of them were brave enough to name it. But they don’t need to. Not here. Not today.
high hopes by rowanisawriter
“I’ve never had any hope for a good king, or a fair war. Or for the sun to shine each morning. Or for good harvests. I have hope in you. Every day. And we fight in these battles for your future. Tell me you understand.” “I understand.” The war gives Erik bloody cuts and sweaty sore muscles, stinging eyes, bruises the color of leather. Istvan gives him armor of pure white.
War-torn Dogs by henerich
Erik’s alive, and he can’t eat. The last thing he had today was his mother’s breakfast. An exploration into the early days between Erik and Ištván.
death's other kingdom by rosenrote
"I abhor your mercy. It does not become you." These strange times Istvan comes to know tenderness. Character study two-shot.
Perils of the Quiet by elkennen
Battered and broken beneath the shadow of the Crone, Istvan Toth had not expected to survive his perilous fall. More surprising still were the hands that pulled him from the grave and back into warmth, light and love. But who now is Toth, made lowly amongst men once more?
spring winds bring floods by thatbug
After its all over, Henry starts to dream. Not the usual nightmares, but strangely realistic dreams where he watches Istvan and Erik's life together. And even though they should be just dreams, why does it feel like he's being slowly dragged to Hell with them? Erik and Istvan through Henry's eyes.
An Open Wound by kriegersan
“Killing you would be quick,” Erik said. “He would heal from that wound. I want to return you to him changed.” (Post KCD2. Erik captures Hans.)
Dies Caniculares by BuboPeregrinus
Sirius rises late in the dark, liquid sky On summer nights, star of stars, Orion's dog they call it, brightest Of all, but an evil portent, bringing heat And fevers to suffering humanity. - Istvan takes Erik to his summer lakeside estate for a deserved retreat after months of fighting for Sigismund. In the sweltering heat that threatens to devour him from the inside, Erik tries to come to terms with their newfound closeness. Realizing his boy has grown into a man, Istvan is determined to do the right thing for once in his life. He will let Erik spread his wings, regardless of the dread that grips his heart at the thought. The most tranquil hush comes only after a storm.
iokanaan by rosenrote
In simple equations no sanctity can exist, and Erik is a man of simplicity; he stops thinking about eternal damnation long before he kisses a man for the first time. He remembers hearing a priest preach by the Frauenkirche, warning about the dangers of carnal desire. All of these — eyes and smiles, coral lips, sun-gilded hair and skin as warm milk — hide the same flesh, fat and bile, bone and blood, and all of it is slowly rotting; should one forfeit his eternal life in favour of this futility? The thing is: none of it is new to Erik, none of it disgusts him. He knows what a human corpse looks up close; he couldn’t spot this mystical evil aspect in it even if he tried. There’s no facade to break when he doesn’t look for it in the first place. A collection of vignettes from the pre-Nicopolis era of Erik and Istvan. Continuation of "death's other kingdom". Two-shot.
Amor et melle et felle est fecundissimus by neodyymi
Ištván turned without another word and stepped back through the chapel doors, into the smoke-laced morning chill. The sky was pale with dawn now, weak light seeping through clouds and heavy mist, revealing the remains of what had still been a village before the night fell. He knew he should’ve simply slit the boy’s throat the moment he found him. That would’ve been the smarter thing to do, for once, and perhaps even a small mercy. No names, no questions – just another corpse sprawled among many. But he hadn’t. And now the boy had a name, and a voice, and eyes too old for his face.
walk tall beneath these trees by zythepsary
A smudged figure waits in the corner of Erik's eye. Istvan is dressed in black, covered from head to toe with armored limbs and a heavy doublet, but he doesn't reek the way Erik does in the heat. If anything, he smells like nights in camp. Like woodsmoke and a chilly breeze. The comfortable scent of bodies in the same place for too long.
Istvan buys Erik a gift.
