They’ve carved out a home, found new allies, faced old ghosts — and each step of the way, they’ve been brought to life through the gorgeous art of @playpausephoto
And their journey is far from over.
Below is a guide to all chapters of Hearth and Kin released so far, including the previous series that led them here.
Part I – Lords of Rotstein
Part II – Of Iron and Snow
Part III – Where Foxes Say Their Goodnights
Part IV – Of Belonging
Part V – Before the Darkness Yields
Part VI – Nights of Holy, Days of Rise 1/2
Part VI – Nights of Holy, Days of Rise 2/2
Part VII – Of Shepherds and Beasts
Part VIII – A Court In Spring
Part IX – Love Thy Neighbour
Part X – Of Dreams and Betokening
Part XI – The Lady, the Captain and the Page
Part XII – Song of Water
Part XIII – Of Roots and Vows
Part XIV – Forest Folk
Part XV – Chasing Shadows
Part XVI – Of Black Rider
Part XVII – Strawberries, Lavender and Violets 1/2
Part XVII – Strawberries, Lavender and Violets 2/2
Part XVIII – Of Saints and Sinners 1/2
Part XVIII – Of Saints and Sinners 2/2
By now you've probably heard about Kansas's fuckass fascism. Trans folks need help, and we also need to kill this bullshit before it spreads.
For the next week (2/27 - 3/6) if you donate $25 or more to the following orgs, I will do an art commission for you OR write a short (500-1k) fic for you.
Fight the law:
Help Trans folks who want to get out:
At TCP, our mission is to help Queer and 2SLGBTQIA+ people move from unsafe environments to Colorado and provide connections and resources t
Some additional notes:
🏳️⚧️ I will need some sort of proof of your donation, but I do not need any personally identifying information
🏳️⚧️ I can't guarantee a set timeline on when I will be able to finish your request, but I promise you I will
🏳️⚧️ Check with me about your request before hand - there are things I won't or can't do
🏳️⚧️ If there is another org you know of that is relevant, please let me know! I'm happy to support any and all help in this time
🏳️⚧️ I am just a guy, and this is just a way of encouraging you to donate - giving you a little good for doing good. It is not a business deal. Please be kind, please be patient
🏳️⚧️ I am not affiliated with either of these organizations in any official capacity
"Help me, Henry! Please!"
He tries to speak, to explain, but even here his body fails him and nothing comes out but a pathetic half-whine. The pain is overwhelming. He can't think over the top of it.
Once more, he tries to shift the beam but he barely has the strength to raise his arm. His hand shakes. His fingers curl. He can't even grip the wood.
With a defeated thud, his hand drops to the floor, the rest of him following, a cloud of dust echoing the impact. He watches with an almost detached fascination, as his fingers crawl to find Hans' gauntlet, threading mournfully between his lords'.
"I'm," he manages, hauling his lungs like sacks of coal.
…sorry.
…dying.
…here.
Nebakov Fortress has been destroyed with Hans and Henry still inside. read on ao3
Kingdom Come: Deliverance | Hans Capon/Henry of Skalitz | E | tags: time-loop, during-canon, siege of suchdol, religious guilt, angst, hurt/comfort, temporary character death
Summary:
Hans was having the worst day of his life and it just kept happening. – Or, during the siege of Suchdol, Hans is plagued by visions and days of Henry’s death.
Twenty-five whole days had passed since the siege on Suchdol had begun with Sir Hans Capon, Lord of Pirkstein, and his squire, Henry of Skalitz, trapped within its fortress walls.
Although becoming a noble hostage appeared to have become all the rage for nobility these days, Hans had some rather… strongly worded notes of complaint still, to put it mildly. Or at least when it came to the subject of ‘being held up in terribly tiny spaces for more times than Hans would have ever hoped for in his entire sorry life’.
Despite the fact all of his hair stood on end whenever he reflected upon each and every second of the many a time he had the misfortune of becoming a noble hostage himself, now he had at least come to appreciate the little joys that came with noble hostagedom. After all, when he’d been trapped in Maleshov, he had at least had the pleasure of receiving the proper food and care befit to his station.
However, during this cursed siege, he was all rather reminded of his time in the dungeon of Trosky. Only that this was markedly worse.
At the very least, when he was in that dingy Trosky dungeon, his executioners had the decency to inform him on when exactly he’d meet his end. But here in Suchdol, death came and went whenever it so pleased. Sometimes it did so quickly and other times slowly. But it was never predictable. And it was that exact uncertainty which was slowly gnawing at them. At all of them.
With each passing day – even the ones without any attacks from the Praguers – defeat was steadily approaching them from the horizon. With hunger and time ravaging them more than a single blade ever could.
In order to cope with it all – ‘it’ being the constant stresses of hunger and death surrounding them – Hans had started to go in search of as many opportunities as he could to shut his eyes and rest. And fortunately, with him having been a nobleman who wasn’t expected to burden himself with any of the work around the fort in between the attacks, Hans managed to elude with most of these plentiful naps of his without hearing much reprimand for them.
It was rather regrettable for Hans when he discovered that this brilliant tactic of his had gradually lost most of its effectiveness however. Once the feelings of dread and despair started to seek him even in his very sleep in the form of night terrors, leaving him as exhausted as before he’d ever closed his eyes.
Relocating his resting spots to places outside rather than inside had helped quite a deal, so had having someone – that someone being Henry – to watch over his sleep. That way, Hans felt none too confined nor alone whenever he awoke from another terrible nightmare of his.
It was around midday when Hans woke up from one such nightmare, his head and heart pounding.
He was sitting on the ground leaned up against the broken remains of a bench right outside the smithy – a spot he frequented quite a lot to find rest during these few days prior. His vision was clouded in drowsiness still when his eyes glanced around in search of his squire.
Henry was sitting in the same spot as before, next to his lord, as the blacksmith’s boy was gazing up into the overcast sky above the encircling fortress walls. Silent.
Hans yawned and carefully extended his trembling limbs before following Henry’s gaze with equal silence, starting from the servants working below the wooden ramparts and up into the grey, rumbling clouds Henry appeared to be staring a hole into – perhaps in hopes to pierce through them and reach the blue beyond.
It appeared not as if Henry knew he was yet awake.
“Look on the bright side,” Hans said once he decided to break that silence at last. “We may be trapped and starving to our deaths in here, but at least the weather’s fucking shit, too.”
“Someone’s in a good mood…” Henry offered a smile, his eyes heavy as they laid upon his lord.
Hans had no need to tell Henry for the man to know he’d had another nightmare. His sleep had gotten especially horrendous the few days prior. Hans oft woke up in a cold sweat, many a time without even knowing why. Fortunately for Hans, the memory of this particular dream of his had long escaped his mind upon waking up, even if the pounding of his heart remained as a reminder of it still.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
...and another one!
Chapter 12: One Cannot Love What One Doesn't Fear
Chapter Summary:
“But he asks nothing of me,” [Guenevere said.]
“My lady,” said Galehaut, “surely he doesn’t have the power to do so, for one cannot love what one doesn’t fear.”
In which, tormented by signals real and imagined, Hans takes a chance and Henry to the woods.
sing ninety-nine and ninety
jan žižka/dry devil | e | 5800 [1/9]
"Jan Žižka, of wherever the fuck," someone says, and of course it can only be Hynek: lilt, rasp, vague half-joking menace. Jan turns on the railing to look at him: out of his armour proper, now, the high collar of his aketon dark against his pale scarred throat.
"Hynek of, theoretically, Kunštát," Jan says, raising his cup, and Hynek throws back his head and laughs.
Thirty years of question and answer, and no closer to any sort of truth.
He’d certainly hoped to find his old pal soon and go to the wedding together, but he wouldn’t have imagined that Henry would all but literally land himself on his lap all of a sudden.
“...I missed you,” was Henry’s answer.
Hans expected a lot of possible replies. “I was worried about you getting into trouble without me again”, or perhaps “I can’t believe you’ve been here all along, you certainly know how to hide!”, or in his wildest dreams “I can’t do this without your help, Sir Hans, please help me.”
But not the raw simplicity of “I missed you”.
--
Or: Henry stumbles into Hans' hunting camp during the night. Hans wakes up.
This is the first chapter of a series set during "missing moments" in KCD2, all focusing on canon-compliant pre-relationship Hansry. Next parts will all be focused on For Whom The Bell Tolls.
"If he's truly as good with wenches as he is with swords, I might have to trouble him for another lesson." Eržík says around a mouthful of boar, cheeks fat.
Jitka hisses at her brother, and Hans buries a laugh in the pheasant between his own teeth.
"Do excuse him," She sends Henry an apologetic look. "Your lord has told quite a number of colorful tales over dinner these past nights, and Eržík only seems to absorb certain details."
"I have to, uncle's made him recount his rescue from the Italian Court four bloody times already,”He moans against the rim of his goblet. “If I didn't squeeze a tangent out of him about you and Kunzlin's daughter, I'd pass out into my soup."
Chapter 4 of Gethsemane I really hope you enjoy it and I hope to have the next chapter out later this week.
