"What agency??" I know, I hear you. That's what we're here to talk about. Because that too shaped him as a character in a massive way.
Essentially from day one in this world Hans had his agency stripped away from him. What he wants doesn't really matter. Growing up as lonely as he is, his life is comprised of two things: being bored and lonely and learning how to govern. No wonder he tries to make the most of his noble position. He loses all the fun he could be having by being a normal kid and makes up for that by boozing and hunting and whoring and fighting. There is agency in those things.
In one of our first interactions with Hans, we play witness to him being told the following:
And Hans instantly fires back with irreverence. He is going to go up against Henry even if it gets him in trouble
You couldn't ask for a better demonstration of him clawing at reality for some amount of agency. Later on Henry learns that he's far from the exception here:
Who is Hans to himself? Very little, as we've already found in part 1. In many ways, Hans only knows himself in comparison to others. Whether that's comparing himself to Hanush specifically (as per part 2), other nobles in general (as per part 1), or even his subjects. If all he needs to do to stop feeling so damn insecure is beat little upstarts like Henry then great! He can do that and prove he's his own person all in one go!
Shame that it doesn't work that way.
It's unfortunate that the things in which Hans sees his own agency are precisely those that Hanush takes away from him when he steps out of line. His attempts to reclaim agency are often precisely those things that result in him being punished.
Which is where we need to pull Henry in.
As Hans tells him, he's a bit of everything—Laborator, Orator, Bellator— and that has lent him a fair amount of social mobility. In a lot of ways, Henry always lives on the fringes of society, able to flit back and forth over the boundary freely in all the ways that Hans deeply envies. He can have a Jewish brother and a nobleman for a father. He goes against direct orders from his liege lord and not only gets away with it, he gets promoted. Like, of course he hates this little shit who gets to have all the things he ever wanted and gets praised for every misstep to boot.
But then, something interesting happens.
I know we make fun of Hans for being a damsel in distress, but I think there's actually a narrative purpose to this besides showing us that he's the narrative's favorite. As Hanush tells him after his fight with Henry, Hans was supposed to go settle a dispute between some landowner. But then, Henry is the reason that he gets to go out hunting after all.
And then, while they're on their hunt, Henry rescues him again, this time from the Cumans. Henry rescues him when Arse-n-balls tries to drown him and then later when he gets shot in the ass. Throughout KCD1 (and you'll find that this theme carries on in KCD2!) Henry ensures and represents freedom for Hans. A return of some manner of agency.
It's no great surprise then that separations from Henry generally lead to a loss of freedom as well. When he rides off to go after the boar, he's captured. The noose tightens around his neck as soon as Henry was removed from the prison cell with him. Henry fights Zizka in order to try and keep Hans safe and out of captivity. His entire time imprisoned in Maleshov resulted from him being forcibly parted from Henry. Right after, they're forced apart once more, only for Hans' freedom and agency to be torn from him in the most acute way, by being betrothed against his will.
This is a crucial turning point. It's almost as if Hans catches on to the fact that being apart from Henry is a threat to his freedom and does everything in his power to prevent it.
Only to be stopped at every. fucking. turn.
Exhibit A, at Raborsch before the pogrom:
Exhibit B, at Ruthard Palace before they go after the legate:
Exhibit C, at Suchdol before the suicide mission:
He's shot down at every possible turn. Everyone treats him as some precious porcelain doll that has to be handled with tremendous care. If something happens to him, it could be costly, either on account of a ransom or because Hanush won't get the money from Hans marrying Jitka. Hans isn't his own person. What fucking agency does he have over his own body? Kissing Henry is one of the most agency-affirming things that boy could possibly do.
And it's interesting that even if you don't romance him, Hans expresses his frustration with exactly this lack of agency:
There is so much freedom to be found in accompanying Henry here, in being given the chance to not only protect Henry, but to die by his side on his own terms.
The end conversations with Hanush feel like a final fuck you to his attempts at cementing any amount of agency for himself. And it's here that you really see him fight tooth and nail against what his uncle is trying to push on him (some excerpts included here and here). His opponent just happens to be, well... his uncle, most stubborn man alive. Hans knows this, and inevitably gives in knowing that arguing any longer would lead nowhere.
Does that mean he's given up, as this anon fears? Definitely not (and certainly not if he's been romanced; he seems a lot more eager to fight in that case). Hans is a mimic. I have lost count of the number of times that conversations between him and Henry have gone as follows:
Hans: What would you do about [thing]?
Henry: I would do [option].
Hans: Are you sure? But what about [counterargument]?
Henry: I still think it's the right way to go because of [reason].
Hans: You're right, I'll go with your decision.
The exchange that sticks out to me most in recent memory is what happens to Arse-n-balls. The conversation starts as follows (and you'll have to forgive my crude photoshopping their names on to help here):
You then are given two options. You tell him to punish him or let him off the hook. Here's what happens if you tell Hans to punish him:
And here's what happens if you tell him to go easy on him:
This boy is so moldable. So easily influenced and always looking to Henry for guidance. Why? Because the lack of agency means that he's never really had to make his own decisions ever before, they were always made for him. And when he did make decisions, they were often punished.
It doesn't surprise me one bit that talking to Hanush left Hans feeling extremely hopeless. His conversation with Henry afterward has Henry asking what they're going to do about the wedding, and Hans, understandably, says that they can't do anything, not in the face of the browbeating he was just treated to. He's trying to make the best of a shit situation (promising to name his son after Henry), and anyone watching this could easily assume that he's fully resigned himself. But he hasn't.
As Henry talks to him, not only does he realize that he does actually have two options and not just one...
... he starts brainstorming ways out with Henry:
I think this is especially relevant here because it feels like a pretty clear and deliberate callback to the romance-exclusive dialogue:
This is the answer. Trying to figure out ways in which to at least put off the wedding is part of waiting and seeing how things turn out. Seems like he actually is sure of what he wants to do. He's just had his agency taken from him so many times that he second-guesses himself at every turn and ends up looking to those most important to him for guidance, Henry and Hanush. Devastated as he seems after his/their conversation with Hanush, he seems equally uplifted and hopeful after talking to Henry about the whole thing.
Hans spends the whole second game discovering his agency (that it exists at all in concept!) only to watch it be repeatedly torn from him over and over again. Loving Henry is the one thing he chooses for himself. And after that, it's on Henry to remind him that that's okay.
Henry knows full well that this is a shit situation and naturally commiserates. But if it was all gray clouds from here on out, there would be nothing for Hans to stay strong for.
Hans' relationship with Hanush plays a considerable role in both games where Hans consistently tries to impress his uncle, but it isn't until KCD2 that this relationship (and the attempts to please) lead to a pretty blatant disillusionment with the nobility. Everything he learned, everything he ever thought he knew with complete and total certainty, ends up challenged in the face of the tremendous growth he experiences over the course of KCD2.
We'll start by talking about who Hans is as a person and where his personality and behaviors are coming from both before and after Henry meets him.
There's something to be said here about how growing up as part of the nobility is inherently dehumanizing and uniquely traumatizing, but I think for Hans in particular this is true. Even he realizes that his life had the potential of being just that little bit better had they been in the picture:
And let's be honest, even if it wouldn't have been better or different at all (let alone in any significant way), the fact is that Hans knows that something better could have been. It's even possible that he could have ended up with siblings to play with at some point! The idea of potential denied or just out of grasp for him is a theme that comes up quite frequently for him!
We know that Hans grew up under Hanush's tutelage if not in his love and affection. For Hans, that meant learning about how to govern a territory and learning to read and write, Latin and other languages included… but little else. I can say this with some amount of confidence because Hans wasn't taught social skills. At all. One of the most tragic visual examples of this comes from the meeting(s) at Raborsch. While Jobst makes his announcements, Hans is busy watching the other adults around him to see how they act and doing his best to mirror their behavior. This is heartbreaking.
@codeword-art made an amazing post recently about how incredibly lonely Hans is, and by god, they are correct. There are so many good points made in that post, many of which point to the fact that Hans has a LOT of learned behaviors. I've touched on this before in my Hanush meta, but @georgecostanzaatemysoup brought up the very good point that Hans most likely learned that negative behavior got him attention. But that's far from the only thing he's learned. As @codeword-art pointed out, Hans has learned that people treat him either like a "troublesome child" or like something precious to be protected. And when people default to treating him that way, even people who don't know him (!), he falls back into old habits. This is how life is, how life has always been, and how life will always be. The way Hans is treated has pretty directly affected and even shaped his personality.
This goes hand-in-hand with one of my all-time favorite meta posts in this entire fandom, which is this one by @antivanwine14. They make the incredible point that boar hunts were very social activities for nobles at the time. And that as soon as Hans finds his first actual friend in Henry he immediately goes to take him boar hunting. Hans has spent his entire life learning by watching and doing his best to echo what he sees.
You want to know where Hans got his personality from? I would bet good money that he saw the kind of commanding presence that his uncle bore and did his best to learn. Hanush is, in many ways, quite bratty himself. He's loud, boisterous, and gets what he wants. Hans got used to being called useless and did his best to be better. To be more like his uncle. Here's what Henry is told by the innkeep right before the boys start fighting:
Does that... remind you of anyone? Because it reminds me of Hanush!
Of course, that didn't get his uncle's approval either. So when that didn't work, he turned into a self-fulfilling prophecy. A kid can only be told he's a useless little waste of space so often before he starts to not only believe it in earnest but also leans into the suggestion.
@codeword-art made this point absolutely beautifully here as well where they talk about how people view him throughout Rattay and what sort of effect that would also have on him. In Hans' eyes, no one aside from Captain Bernard and Oats think he's worth anything. Yet that isn't even entirely true. When Henry is given the tour of Rattay by Nightingale, he ends up learning the following:
But there's no doubt in my mind that Hans isn't hearing "Hanush should hand over the fiefdom to you, my lord" but rather Nightingale's comment about how these people are fools. It's not surprising then that this fake persona that Hans projects is just a protective facade that he puts in place when he has to interact with the outside world.
Hanush shouldn't be part of that category, and yet he inevitably is because he pushes his nephew away emotionally at all times.
Need I remind you that when Henry goes to check on Hans at the beginning of Next to Godliness... this is how Hans responds:
Okay. Reread that.
Hanush. wouldn't. let. anyone. near him????????????
Like…… why?????? Hanush wouldn't let anyone near him except the priest who treated him like he was already dead???????? No doubt growing up in the castle must have felt a bit like being dead too! He cared about the friends he was drinking with the night he got in that fight with Henry so much that they literally never came up ever again. This boy was never socialized! He is so lonely he has no one to even spend time with, if Hanush would even let him! So whom does he even have to impress?
Hanush. Just Hanush.
And this comes up quite a lot.
Because he wants so badly to be loved by his uncle.
This is what really gets me in terms of his relationship to Hanush. Hanush is an objectively terrible parent. And even in spite of this Hans very clearly wants to categorize him as his uncle instead of just as his guardian, this far more personal thing, but still feels compelled to restrain himself from that in everyday conversation. Even if that conversation happens to be with the guy who is rapidly sliding into the position of Hans' best friend.
Moreover, we know that Hans calls him uncle when that isn't actually his role in Hans' life:
I've noticed that Henry does a lot of code-switching depending on whom he's speaking to. In a lot of ways, even despite the irreverence he exhibits at times he treats Hans much nicer than he does most people. The annoyance that comes up with others does not generally show up with Hans.
And there is a lot of variance in how Henry treats the people around him outside of that. He knows how to juggle the different worlds he traverses in his myriad social roles that he occupies simultaneously.
Meanwhile, Hans only has two settings: deep and vulnerable and personal... and everyone else.
Hanush sits pretty solidly in the latter category. In fact, I would go so far as to say that Henry's existence alone created the first category to begin with. Without him, it would not exist. Hans doesn't let down his walls until he meets Henry because he doesn't even know he has them.
Only at his most emotionally vulnerable, usually with the people he cares about most (and vice versa), does Hans open up. At the end of KCD2, while he's drinking with Godwin and lamenting the fact that his soulmate might die out there, we learn the truth of why he decided to take the message to Trosky to begin with:
I mentioned in part 1 of my analysis that he's talking about nobles as a whole here. If only he took the message to von Bergow, everyone would finally take him seriously and stop treating him like a child.
As he puts it when he meets Henry in front of his room at Suchdol:
But Hanush is at the heart of all of this.
Let's rewind a bit to KCD1 again.
I know we joke a fair amount about Clothes Make the Man and how quickly Hans starts throwing his gifting love language at Henry and latches onto him plus playing dress-up with Henry but there's a lot more going here.
The opening already gets me. It takes him 0.2 seconds to turn Henry into his emotional rock.
It's pretty transparent that this is at least in part about wanting to throw presents at Henry to make sure that he stays around (consider also the timing: he does this right before he knows they're both going to get a talking-to from his uncle... it's like he's trying to butter Henry up in advance of that meeting to make sure it doesn't freak him out. He didn't have to put Henry into his own clothes!!), but the fear of looking bad in front of Hanush isn't an excuse. That is a real fear here.
And we know these sorts of lectures are far from rare; if anything, they're a common occurrence!
So much so that it even comes up again in KCD2 where Brabant drops this line post-Maleshov:
Implying that Hans talked to Brabant quite a bit about his concerns regarding precisely this while they were both in captivity. This was clearly something that weighed on him heavily, so much so that Brabant remembered it well enough to bring up here!
This isn't particularly surprising. From the very beginning, he's genuinely invested in his uncle's opinion of him (not that that comes as much of a surprise) and ends up viewing the trip as a sort of test that he can either pass or fail:
If you look at his growth through that lens it is quite frankly heartbreaking to watch him go through all that he suffers.
At the tavern in Troskowitz, Henry suggests going back to Rattay, and Hans immediately shoots that down because they'd be a laughing stock and Hanush would never let him forget about his failure:
The fear here is net negative approval.
By the time the lads are riding out to deal with Nebakov, he's come to terms with the fact that this will right the initial wrongs and things will return to normal!
I think this is very telling. The best he's hoping for at this point is a net zero approval gain.
The prospect of Hanush having to pay a ransom for him briefly pops up while they're locked up at Nebakov. And then Godwin shows up, reminding him that he can't even deliver a letter. We're back to net negative approval.
Henry reminds him that it's fine! At least they're alive!
And then we're treated to a strangely somber look from Hans and silence, one that Henry also notices and responds to by trying to inject a spot of good news (their return to Rattay):
Hans knows how his uncle reacts to failure. Not just here, but in general. He's generally not given the chance to plead his case. Case in point? After Next to Godliness, he tries to explain the situation to his uncle:
And... Hanush doesn't believe him:
He knows that optics are everything here. If it looks like he fucked up, that's how it'll be taken. To that point, the night before Nebakov Hans points out to Henry that he suffered all of those situations just because he was "trying to do the responsible thing."
Okay, now we're getting somewhere! He's honestly been trying here, all for the benefit of his uncle. Henry can even ask if he isn't worried about Hanush will say, given that it's pretty obvious that that is precisely what he's worried about:
With that, we're back to net zero gain in approval. Which is quickly turned into a net negative again the day after when he's taken hostage. Again.
And then gets to spend at least a week (possibly several) thinking about how badly he fucked up and how much Hanush might have to pay in ransom to get him back. As we noted earlier, it's fairly obvious just how much Hans cares about that as per his conversation with Henry and Brabant after the escape from Maleshov:
At this point he tells his uncle that he fucked everything up (which just isn't fucking true, Hans, you are way too hard on yourself) and Hanush is quick to reassure him that it's fine:
Even he recognizes that Hans has grown at this point! Or... at least he says as much. I think this gave Hans a sliver of hope that he could actually earn his uncle's approval.
Of course, later on Hanush reveals how he really feels about the matter and this is, of course, what leads to the Devil's recommendation to just marry him off. My beloved mutual @audentesfortunaiuvattwrote an excellent post about how infuriating this whole conversation is, and I agree 100% with her argument and the follow-up.
Hans' real feelings on the matter are revealed after the announcement, only while he's absolutely sloshed:
Henry tries to point out to him later on after von Bergow's interrogation that he would have gotten Hanush's approval after his work at Maleshov, and it just...
... doesn't land. A part of me wonders if the announcement of the betrothal swept the rug so solidly out from under his feet that he lost any hope that he could have ever gotten his uncle's approval by his own merit. Which is also why he ends up sounding so resigned when he ends up talking to him later. Like he expected it to turn into an argument.
It's kind of heartbreaking to watch honestly. Because every time that Hanush is in the picture, you get to play witness to Hans grasping for his approval again with just that tiniest sliver of hope reawakening. While they're at Suchdol, that doesn't factor in at all. In this timeframe, Hans and Henry both exist in a space outside of society. As I stated in part 1, nobility and social stratification are meaningless in the face of, uh, hunger and despair. But as soon as Hanush returns, with him come the demands of the society around them.
All I see here is someone who desperately wants to impress his uncle. This is the sliver of hope.
Only for it to be promptly shattered into pieces.
And by the time of their end conversations, there's no repairing it anymore. Which is fucking tragic, because if you pay attention to Hanush, he clearly has no idea how to parent Hans. After giving Hans and Henry that lecture following Next to Godliness, this is his expression when Hans leaves:
These are two people that have spent their whole lives misunderstanding each other. Like, I truly believe that Hanush is doing what he thinks is best here (and, as I've said before, in many ways he's right! he's a great guardian, but he's a terrible parent; I go into that in more detail at the bottom of this post). In terms of being a good parent to Hans it just happens to be a sad miscalculation.
I went into this wanting to write one thing and then instead ended up writing something different entirely which, after watching it get stupidly long, I decided to split in two. So you can consider this an analysis triptych (they other two are already drafted and ready to go). It's still stupidly long, so I apologize for that.
We know that Hans learned what the platonic ideal of a noble looked like and from that point on did his very best to live up to that ideal. He saw what he was supposed to be even while realizing that he could never live up to that ideal. Hans spends all his time trying to reach for perfection only to find his best only ever being at best shy of where he wants to be. More often, his best is far removed from where he thinks he's meant to be / supposed to be.
This is a theme that comes up several times throughout the game. First, when they're at the inn in Troskowitz where Hans pulls the "excuse" about why he can't do work:
I say "excuse" in quotes because the more time you spend talking to Hans the more it becomes obvious that he actually believes what he's saying. All that stuff about the three states of man is 100% something that he was either taught directly or overheard. It's entirely possible that he once tried to help out the castle staff and was told he wasn't allowed to do that because it went against the will of God. Like I fucking love AUs where Hans and Henry met as kids, but there's a non-zero chance that any attempt to do so, if not simply preempted, would have been shut down by Hanush and the others around him. This is what it means to be a noble, Hans. You're not allowed to do any of these fun things. You have a job to do. You're going to rule Rattay someday and that comes with certain responsibilities.
Here are some choice excerpts from that conversation:
I want to draw special attention here to the role that Hans places himself in, the role of the Bellator, a protector of others. This is what he's allowed to do. Remember that for later.
The other thing I want to draw attention to is this bit:
This isn't just about losing face. This is about the fact that he grew up hearing how wrong it would be for him to do peasant work. This is about the fact that he was told that if he did this, he'd be going against God, and everyone would think less of him for not acting as he's supposed to / required to. Not just in the eyes of God, but in the eyes of society.
Remember how I said that Hans has an idealized notion of nobility? That applies here as well. As the codex entry on the Three States of Man tells us, this is the ideal medieval society, one that is meant to be conducive to peace. That lack of social mobility and freedom that Hans has been chained by his whole life has a purpose: to ensure harmony.
But the script he's so used to, that he clings to so desperately, fails him. Harmony could not be further from his reality. Case in point, at the beginning he tells Henry that he can protect him with his name and therefore his own noble status:
But then, that doesn't turn out to be true. He does everything in his power to declare his noble status, to invoke his name, even places his arm behind his back and attempts to bow in order to properly present himself as nobility to the guards at the Trosky Castle gates—all for naught. No one cares. Hans tries so fucking hard to stick to the script he's been taught his whole life, and no one gives a shit. Svatya makes fun of him, refuses to apologize, and then physically assaults him. Instead of seeing Svatya getting clapped in the pillory, he is.
During the divorce era, he once again tries to grasp for any amount of familiarity from his old life by turning to hunting. It's a noble sport and something he's good at. Camping and going out to hunt, being out in nature over an extended period of time, these are all things he's done before. Things he can comfortably fall back on. If he forgets about the fact that he's alone—no Henry, no horse, no hunting dogs—he can almost pretend he's back in his old life.
Even his attempt at romancing Enneleyn at the wedding fits into this desperate attempt to cleave to his understanding of his noble title. (This is a point that also crops up in this fantastic analysis of Hans' character by @codeword-art, that Hans knows what people think nobles should be like, this including a love for women. This post and the one that preceded it are analyzed in greater depth in part two of this analysis.)
And then even that is torn from him when he's told he'll hang for poaching. Nobility was the one thing that was supposed to act as a get-out-of-jail-free card for him, his guaranteed fallback. Nobility was meant to remove the noose from around his neck... and then failed to do so. What's the point of being a noble if no one believes that you are one? What's the point of being a noble if it only comes with a lack of social skills, a lack of relationships, and a lack of freedom? What's the point of sticking to a script if everyone refuses to play their parts? Growing up, nobility always acted as a panopticon for him, surrounded by people's judgments of him. His character, his aptitude, was always everybody's business. But that pain, that judgment, always came with benefits before.
This illustrates for Hans, quite clearly, how quickly those benefits can be stripped for him and made meaningless. Nobility can't save him. Nobility has only ever taken from him, and then, when he needed it most, it wasn't there for him as a parachute.
At the end of Next to Godliness we can talk to Hans about what he's going to do with Arse-n-balls. And if Henry advises Hans to punish him, first Hans tries to defend him.
At which point Henry invokes his noble status and suggests that letting this transgression go unpunished would lead to people questioning him in his position:
At which point Hans folds quite quickly:
How much do you reckon Hans' worldview was shaken in hindsight, upon realizing the reality of the punishments he might have subjected people to. A day in the stocks or pillory? Being hanged for poaching? Suddenly he's seeing these things from the perspective of a peasant and what that might feel like.
Nobles are meant to protect people and dole out punishments only when necessary. But this whole system is so easily upended the second corruption gets involved.
He's next confronted with this issue in a big way if you decide to sell out Olda and go to Semine with Hashek. Despite von Bergow's wishes, Hashek wants to burn the place down to the ground along with all the people in it. Everyone is to die. This isn't what von Bergow wanted (and if you do agree to Hashek's plan, he is appropriately outraged after) and while Hans questions if the two of you did the right thing if you decide to go against Hashek's wishes, he's quite distressed if you don't go against his wishes and kill everyone. It puts him into a funk for quite a while after and leaves him viewing himself as inherently tainted by the experience.
Horrified as he is that Olda, as a nobleman, would side with Zizka and co (and expresses this right after the possible torturing if the truth is discovered), he's just as horrified that Hashek, a nobleman, would order the slaughter of innocents. He objects on several occasions but mostly goes along with what Henry says, only questioning what the right decision was after.
Nobles are supposed to be better than this. If he was expected to do better, to be better, to live up to all these unachievable ideals, why does no one else give a shit?
The next time this crops up in a big way is after the Maleshov rescue when Hans become quite upset at the sight of a destroyed village. A conversation with Brabant follows that showcase a number of Hans' feelings on the matter:
This is unjust, he says. Because in his eyes, the nobility should be above such dirty, underhanded tricks to get what they want. Brabant insists that the village will be resettled before long ("people die, it's what they do" etc etc) and that this is just how war is.
Hans, however, is unsatisfied:
Here too we see his idea of the Bellator and what that means for him as a noble. In Hans' eyes, their job is to protect the common people. To do everything in his power to make sure that these atrocities don't happen.
If Henry then agrees with him, Hans says something else telling (regardless of what happens with Semine):
These things happen because of his failure. He's a Bellator, a noble who should be capable of protecting people. Instead they failed at Nebakov and he was captured. The death of these people, to Hans, is on his own head.
We know that our boy Luke lost rizz points with pretty much everyone because he decided to burn down the village near Maleshov during the siege, but this too is a moment that's worth remarking on. In the moment, Hans defers to Henry and insists that well, they're in a war, aren't they? But after von Bergow's interrogation, he has quite a few things to say to Henry:
On the flipside, if Henry goes against Dry Devil, Hans praises his actions while simultaneously acknowledging that he wouldn't have been strong enough to do the same:
It's interesting that at this point in the story he trusts Henry (not a noble) with ethical judgments far more than either himself or other noblemen. Deferring to Henry isn't entirely new for him, but that's another post entirely. What matters here is that we're witnessing the wool being pulled from Hans' eyes in real time here: the inherent superiority of nobles is rapidly evaporating.
In addition to that, the fact that he's constantly put into the position of damsel in distress means that he's frequently saved or protected by Henry. He's not the Bellator of his own life. Henry is. Henry is more noble in Hans' eyes than any noble he's ever met. This even comes up at one point early in the game, following their first romance option:
I'm sure I don't need to point out how this means that Henry effectively dismantles Hans' sense of self only to build it up again. All his self-esteem was rooted in the fact that he's a capable Bellator, a defender of the people and worthy of his position as a noble. Then Henry comes in, does it all better despite his peasant upbringing, and then shows Hans that he has value in spite of what he perceived all his faults to be.
Even before the siege on Maleshov, Hans is slowly starting to build up an increasingly robust view of himself as a Laborator. I talked about this in more detail here, where we see Hans volunteer himself for manual labor that we see no one else in the game do other than Henry. In fact, it's something that is often (and jokingly at that) offloaded onto Henry. But here, Hans presents the far more noble position (in this case, dealing with the hunted game) to Henry while taking the manual labor task for himself.
With what noblesse oblige is Hans left with then? Stripped of all the artifice, what remains?
Just his word. The word of a nobleman.
Hans and Henry both get into an argument with Hanush at the end of KCD1 when he gives Toth his word that his safety will be ensured if he lets Radzig and Lady Stephanie go. Henry is (understandably) upset that Hanush will just let Toth go, but Hanush insists that his word as a nobleman is his bond. At which point Hans steps in to argue that they may as well not honor that bond:
Henry also argues, but Hanush ultimately comes back with this:
It's a point that sticks with Hans, and we see it invoked fairly early on in the game:
It's also challenged right toward the beginning as well. Henry responds to what Hans says with something that makes no sense, invoking the idea of one's word but here in the name of him being a blacksmith:
Someone recently made a post about precisely this, and I unfortunately cannot for the life of me recall who it was, so you'll have to forgive me for making the same point (and if someone knows the post I'm talking about, please link me so I can reference it here!). In short, however, the post beautifully summarized that yes, this doesn't make sense. There's no such thing as the word of a blacksmith. It doesn't carry the same weight whatsoever. But Hans decides to take it that way regardless:
No pretension, no posturing about the importance of a noble's words over those of a peasant. Either Henry has been elevated in Hans' mind (no doubt) or nobility is losing the special, unique lustre that it might have once held for him (almost certainly true as well).
We fast-forward a bit. His next encounter with the word of a nobleman is at Raborsch, where his word is given... for him, when he's engaged against his will. If you ask me, this changes things. In a big way. Hans has very little, but the one thing that he thought he had was his word to give. Every thing he swears by from that point forward serves as a reclamation.
And the first thing he does with that reclamation is swear that he'll be there for Henry just as Henry was there for him:
(and then he did, etc etc)
I do find it curious here that he doesn't invoke the word of a nobleman here in this promise to Henry. Instead, he swears by God, their mutual belief system. Giving Henry his word isn't enough anymore. As if Henry has outranked it in his eyes. I wonder if he thought back to the moment when Henry responded to Hans' word as a noble with the word of a blacksmith here. Unlike social stratification, this is a place where they are on equal footing.
The next time that Hans does give his word is at Maleshov during the siege: von Bergow's safety in exchange for both Rosa's safety and von Bergow's agreement to switch sides.
This makes sense. He's speaking to another nobleman here, someone who would understand what it means if the word of a noble is given.
And it is, of course, then immediately put in danger by Sam:
If Sam kills von Bergow here, he takes the last remaining vestiges of any sort of sense of self or identity from Hans. Nobility is losing its lustre, he's not a worthy Bellator and instead always has to have Henry saving his ass, and this is all that remains. What is a noble without his word? As Hanush told him very clearly at the end of the first game, his word is his honor. And without honor, he's nothing.
What's left if the artifice is stripped away? If all he has left to him is his word, if that too is rendered meaningless, Hans, in his mind, will be left as nothing.
It should also be noted here that Sam is not held back by the rules of this society that Hans is so solidly part of. Much like queerness, he exists well outside of it, as both Jews and sodomites were considered heretics. Sam has that freedom that Hans so badly longs for, but it comes at a considerable cost, that of oppression. It's risky to exist at the fringes of society.
As @hallowedlore perfectly put it (in private conversation), when Sam attacks von Bergow, a statement throwing into question why he should care about the rules of their fancy nobility, the only thing that stop him is the threat of violence from Zizka. Death, not social decorum.
Hans is clinging on to this bit of identity with all his might here as though it's a life-raft. And Godwin immediately backs him up, reminding him that what he did there mattered.
But it doesn't get him very far. And certainly not with Sam, who couldn't care less about pleasing a Christian god. It strikes me as curious (and topical) here that he comes away from the big roundtable discussion with von Bergow and the other nobles feeling like insignificant shit while their talk at the Devil's Den did not leave him feeling that way.
Being a nobleman was meaningless here too. His nobility didn't matter one bit, all that mattered was being the strongest personality in the room. And Hans is anything but that. That boy is made of insecurities, his outward facing personality all a mask behind which is only hot air.
Only his jealousy regarding Sam's inbuilt relationship with Henry makes him turn back to old patterns:
See, Henry? He's different from us. But the argument doesn't work on Henry and barely even works on himself.
Increasingly, Hans realizes that the nobility isn't where he feels like he belongs the most. This worldview of his is fucked and all wrong. Who went and decided that he should be a Bellator while someone like Henry isn't?
Because he does associate Henry with nobility in a big way. When Henry goes to ask Hans what he should do about Erik's offer of a duel, Hans thinks it over and then comes back with this:
These are different times. Are they? Or is it just Hans' heart that has changed here? Because right after this, he asks Henry to stay. To forgo honor and nobility and not put himself in unnecessary danger.
The aftermath of the silver heist likewise serves as a painful reminder of what is waiting for him on the other side of all this: a marriage that he doesn't want to a woman he doesn't know. What benefits remain of nobility? All he'd see by this point is obligations. No one listens to him, no one cares what he has to say except for Henry. All the bluster is ultimately meaningless. He doesn't belong with the other nobles, and all his best attempts at fitting into the mold fail him. All his life he's spent his time trying to be like those around him, trying to be someone he isn't, and it's never good enough.
The people he feels most comfortable around, Henry and Godwin, are both people with ties to nobility while wanting as little to do with titles and related obligations as possible. They both have social mobility to a certain extent. The opposite of nobility, to Hans, is freedom.
Shorty after the attack by the Praguers, Hans goes to wait for Henry in front of his room. When Henry asks him how he's doing, because he's clearly got experience leading troops, Hans laughs it off:
If there was any doubt left that he views himself as an incapable Bellator, this is excellent proof, backed up even more later on following the suicide mission:
This is what being a noble has gotten him. People's judgments and expectations, obligation to marry and carry on a family line, and the ability to play God and decide who gets to live and who dies. All he wanted was to protect people. Instead he gets to send them to their deaths.
This will come up again in part two, but it bears mentioning here as well. After getting laid, Hans vents to Godwin about how much he hates that no one ever treats him like an adult. He's a noble and an adult, and none of it ever seems to matter:
Who's "they"? Because the rest of what he says mentions that he thought the Trosky delivery would make "them" take him seriously. This isn't just about Hanush. This is about all nobles. That he'd finally fit in.
But he doesn't, and he won't.
When Hanush arrives at Suchdol, he highlights that everyone there is a hero for their deeds there, but it doesn't matter. Hans once more has his noble obligations shoved down his throat, which effectively feels like the last straw in this disillusionment. Nobility has granted him nothing but pain and any child of his would suffer the same fate. There's even some easily missed idle dialogue you can walk in on where they're arguing about precisely that. It doesn't matter what he does, how heroic he is, how many good deeds he performs, at the end of the day none of it ever mattered (read left to right):
It always strikes me in that conversation how unbelievably bitchy Hans sounds here. The "I'm glad you noticed" could not be cuntier. He is not happy. And even then, Hanush barely offers him any guarantees.
Effectively, this leaves Hans open to questioning the harmony of society as it was taught to him and, in questioning it, realizing that that harmony never existed to begin with. He spends the whole game realizing that the social order he's been subjected to and thought he fit into perfectly is not only illogical but also something he has despised his whole life. This is discovered not only because he was shown an alternative in his own shift into more of a Laborator beside Henry (who to him embodies the qualities of a Bellator far better than he), but also in his own queerness.
It doesn't escape me that there's something to be said about Suchdol here. During the siege, Henry and Hans effectively live outside of the bounds of nobility or social stratification. Everyone is equal in the face of Hunger and Despair. And it's only in this space, this place outside of what is and isn't deemed acceptable by society, that Hans finds it in himself to kiss Henry. To breach every code of conduct he's ever known. Because they're already in the space outside of social acceptability. Hell, the entire Devil's Band is situated in precisely this space just by going against Sigismund. You couldn't ask for a more perfect environment for Hans to step outside of the bounds that have held him since birth.
This is even shown even more starkly with this anon's point in mind about how it goes if you don't romance Hans:
This is unjust. Henry is only in danger because he's not a noble. There's something to be said about agency here, but that discussion has to wait for part three of this analysis triptych. Nothing about this social stratification serves him any longer, all the more so when he romances Henry. It's also why he seems so uncertain about the two of them when Henry returns, and they are meant to return to reality and the expected social order.
This social order that was meant to bring with it harmony for all is the same social order that would demand that he marry and beget an heir. Why should he try to fit himself into this cookie cutter mold if he never fit to begin with? As we see with Barnaby especially, being discovered as queer spells an existence at the fringes of society if not outside of it entirely. Queerness is inherently and by definition at odds with social order, thus returning us to the nobility vs. freedom dialectic. And regardless of which of the two Hans ultimately chooses, obligation or what his heart wants, that disillusionment can never be undone.
I want to talk about how alone Hans really is. Straight up, before Henry barged into the picture, I couldn't even imagine how Hans spent his time.
Now, this isn't to say Hans doesn't talk to people. He clearly does, when he wants to, but the circumstances really dictate when he does. If it's him just seeking out a bit of comfort, he'll go flirt with a bath maid or woman, drink with a few laborers, or argue with annoying peasants that disrespect him, but put his ass in a room full of his "betters", and he just crumbles like a pillar of sand.
It is obvious that Hanush doesn't engage with Hans too much, even though he is his guardian. We know the Rattay priest often teaches Hans things like literature and scripture, and I'm sure other tutors have taught him diplomacy, as he's very good at it. However, Hans severely lacks social education. He's awkward, says many inappropriate things without seeming to realize it's inappropriate, and has difficulty making friends.
In KCD, Hans wanders around Rattay alone. He sits alone, he reads alone, he leans up against buildings, and stares off into space alone. He's never seen drinking with anybody, he never converses with anybody, and he just feels so isolated from everything.
This doesn't change in KCD2 either, not really. Sure, Hans has Henry as a genuine friend now, someone who not only likes him for him but also treats him equally, protects him, and stands by him, even when he's being a massive prick. However, when Henry isn't available, what does Hans do? The same exact behaviours. He isolates himself. He doesn't talk to anyone, and the few conversations he does have are very short and curt. He wanders around, eats by himself, sits by himself, and stares off into space. This does not seem to be an NPC-specific schedule thing.
Sure, NPCS do similar activities, but Hans specifically has less dialogue triggered with the Devils Pack or any of the NPCs in Von Bergows' castle. If at all, honestly, I don't remember Hans speaking to anyone at all there. He also purposefully stands apart from them as well, removing himself to the furthest parts of the Den where literally no one else but Henry goes. 99% of the time, Hans is leaning against some pillar at the Den, just thinking, or maybe people watching? I've caught him once, halfheartedly flirting with a bathhouse maid in my entire 180-hour playthrough. Then he says he takes strolls in the woods often as well.
The man can't even enjoy parties. Sure, it seems he does, but watch him more closely and you'll see he just drinks himself stupid and still stands off somewhere by himself again. At the Semine Wedding, he did this until he managed to woo Enneleyn to a one-on-one. At Von Bergows' party, he just gives up and goes to bed early, and then at the rebellion meeting, he slumps in a chair next to the fireplace and stares at the flames. Then he drinks himself into a frenzy after the wedding announcement.
It's incredibly alarming how used to this he is. I'm certain it's not because he wants to be alone, considering how excited and attached to Henry he is. He's just always been so invisible to everyone else. Literally. It isn't just that Hans isn't engaging; no one tries to engage with him. I'm not saying they're required to, but Dry Devil and Zizka very clearly have had their opinions set on the poor man from the get-go, and everyone else just seems to follow in line.
One would assume Hans would try to make more friends while he's able to. These people don't really know him yet, they're not from Rattay where Hanush has made sure to sour his name, (He also pulls this same shit at the rebellions meeting too) Yet, nothing is that different is it? Zizka treats Hans like an expensive, fragile glass cup, and Dry Devil, if talking about Hans at all, just seems to view him as a troublesome child. Hans is used to this, so he falls into his habits, not even bothering to defend himself or try to change their minds.
It's heartbreaking. This is obviously a deep-rooted issue and ties back to Han's lack of self-esteem. Oh, he acts like he has an ego, but look closer at that birdie and you'll see an empty space where any self-worth is supposed to be. He just adapts and makes himself as small and out of the way as he can. Until he's with Henry again, where he's a little more open and active, in all the good and horrible, chaotic ways. Which is why his relationship with Henry means so much to him, and why it terrifies him to possibly lose it. Especially in his romance, where I believe we get to see Hans with all his walls down and the most exposed and vulnerable he's ever been.
When Hans first heard the legend of Lancelot and Galeot, he laughed drunkenly in the face of the poet who was drinking with him then. That story about two knights seemed so absurd. It was too vulgar. Not as vulgar as the letters Hans wrote from time to time to his passions.
It was vulgar because it sounded beautiful.
Two knights, one of whom went over to the enemy for the sake of the other. They did everything together and even slept in the same bed, and in the end they died on the same day, because one could not bear the death of the other.
This simply could not be! Hans had no friends, but he had comrades, and he could confidently say that none of them would grieve so much over the death of a friend.
"What stupidity" - the lord thought then and forgot about it at that very moment.
The second time he heard the name of Lancelot and Galeot was already sober. Brabant, who never shut up, continued to babble in broken Czech about the history of his homeland, and among them, that very legend had crept in.
It sounded different. Not as intimate as it had been uttered for the first time at the feast one evening in Rattay, but the familiar names suddenly echoed in Hans with a shudder in his body. The story of the two knights no longer seemed so absurd.
It was about him and Henry.
He wanted it to be about them.
For the third time, he heard the legend of the knights from his hunger-weary, trembling lips.
He knew that it would not stop Henry. A stupid tale could not save his friend. Hans could not save him. But if Henry died, then Hans would die too. And he could only tell him about it this way.
"I will return. I promise" - Henry said, placing his hand on his, rising and Hans leaned forward, covering his lips with his own.
He was no Galeoth, but if they were destined to die soon, Hans would be willing to risk his life for him at least that way.
I've written some longer posts about this but in essence -
hans / henry works so well for a pretty clear-cut reason. it's not because warhorse did something groundbreaking in terms of politics or structure in their genre/medium (which they arguably did), but because of a much simpler formula, a writing-based focus that is overwhelmingly neglected in visual media of all sorts, especially games.
warhorse made you care about them as people. really. you care about their relationship because you know them as individuals - and you know them so well largely because of how you've watched their relationship grow, how their friction has shaped them, and how they've grown as a result of it. it's not the "here's the mlm romance option, here's your x number of flirts with a RED flavor or a BLUE flavor, here's your side quest culminating in a sex scene" of longstanding bioware tradition. it's here's henry and hans, they didn't like each other much when they met, but they've been through grief and joy together, they've changed each other's understanding of the world, they complete each other, they're dearest to each other above all.
and you can't blow that. you can't pick the wrong option and fuck it up. you can't fail the side quest. no matter which dialogue options you pick and which aspects of their relationship you lean into, it's always going to be henry and hans, and they will always be each other's most important person.
i can't think of a single romance in gaming that depicts the process of falling into friendly, familial, and romantic love with a person so well.
I deeply appreciate that Hans & Henry are still enjoyable as platonic soulmates and that romance is not positioned as the end all/be all of loving a person, but if I am to be completely honest: It's my opinion that ignoring their romantic progression dramatically limits the overall Hans/Henry relationship arc (even though it continues to exist independently), robs KCD2's main quest of an emotional locus that persists into the post-game (and potential future installments), denies Henry a positive personal driving force in the main quest to rival and eventually overcome revenge obsession, and functionally renders their signature audentes into a tacked-on non sequitur for physical bravery instead of the ultimate conclusion of Warhorse's interconnected observations about life/duty/love/family ("the greatest act of bravery is to pursue boldly who you are regardless of the expectations your environment has placed upon you; strive toward truth despite its risks; seek to rebuild joy after tragedy"), which I would argue is and has always been the point of Henry's internal hero arc and is the primary way we understand all his important relationships therein.
One of the things about Hans is that he's fucking lonely. His parents died when he was very young, and he's being raised by his 'uncle', who, in theory, is meant to give Rattay over to him when he's of age. In the games, he's 19 or 20 (?). And so he has no family, really, except Hanush and whatever staff is raising him. The people he spends time with are all trying to train him to be a better noble, a better politician, someone who will do what they want when he's the lord of Rattay. And anyone who isn't, isn't around for him; they're there for Hanush. And even though Hans is a noble, he has no real claim - it belongs to Hanush - and on top of that, he's very young, and a little hot-headed - and immature, admittedly - so they just don't respect him. At all. It's made very clear at different points in both games; he's at the table because he's a noble, but no one thinks he's earned more respect than that.
And then the commoners he spends time around pretend. They pretend to like him, pretend to respect him, pretend, pretend. Because he is a noble, because he does have power over them, because if they don't, they could be in very real trouble. So they laugh at his jokes, listen to his stories, play dice with him and lose at practice duels.
And as soon as he's gone, they whisper about how bad he would be as a leader, how they don't want Hanush to hand over Rattay, how hes immature and childish and snobby and annoying....
And then, this orphan from Skalitz shows up, half dead after running for his life and being saved at great danger to some great knights, and he has the AUDACITY to ask Sir Radzig to be his squire.
And then Hans hates him - and Henry hates Hans. And they argue. And they duel with swords, they compete at archery, they get in a brawl at the tavern when Hans wants to ignore the rules, but Henry doesn't think he should be allowed to. And Hanush punishes them both by making them go hunting.
And Henry doesn't laugh just because Hans told a joke - he doesn't respect him just because he should. He argues, insults him, makes jokes at his expense, and then, even after all that, he saves his life
And they carry on like that. And Hans grows fonder and fonder of this boy from Skalitz who isn't afraid of him, who actually, truly does respect him, but doesn't kiss his ass just because he's supposed to. And he isn't Lonely, anymore. And that's huge for him. And I think it's a big part of why he fell so hard for a village yokel.
Theres also a lot of times where someone is just plain disrespectful to Hans - ignoring his ideas or just whatever he said or telling him it's bad or ETC, ETC - and Henry can step in and stand up for him. It's another one of those things that I imagine no one else ever did for him. His only family was Hanush, and he's plainly more concerned with Hans figuring out how to act appropriately in court than he is with listening to his ideas or whatever
And Henry gets SO mad and fuckin fights with him at the start of KCD2, and for a while, Hans is so mad that he called him out, told him he's a spoilt brat and a fool, and then, when he sees Henry again, he keeps up his stupid act until Henry is in trouble, and he's there immediately to back him up, at the cost of his own freedom and almost his life. Because Henry is his friend, and he cares for him very deeply.
(And also! After their fight, he's all "fuck off, I don't want to see you, I'll figure it out on my own," but if you find him out poaching, he'll still say "I'm trying to get money so WE can get into the wedding")
And also the whole time he's agnozing that he might actually lose Henry because of his behavior - he admits as much to Henry, which is not easy for him at all. And Henry reassures him he does care about him, and gives "his word as a blacksmith" that he won't leave his side.
Henry is something he's never had. He's honest, and he cares about Hans. He doesn't serve him platitudes or try to make him pleased because he should. He's unafraid to argue when Hans is wrong, or call him out on stupid ideas. But, even so, he'll argue to defend Hans against people he has no business arguing with, and he'll risk his life again and again to save him.
And Henry doesn't need great romance poems or epic stories; he just needs his honesty. When he tells Hans he cares, he doesn't make a big show, he just says it, every time. "I care about you, maybe more than you know." And how often has Hans had that?
Looking at all of it through the lens of Hans, how he was raised, how lonely he must have been. He needed Henry as much as Henry needed him. Their love is so wonderful, and it makes so much sense. I do hope the beautiful folks at Warhorse are unafraid to make it a bigger part of the next game.
I don't personally think hans wrote the poems in the collection of somewhat bawdy poems, I think he was bored and leafing through it one day, laughing at them, and then he got to this one
and he stopped. and it's soooo stupid but it still made his heart beat faster and his palms sweat because he's seeing this impossible thing he has no words for that he's been keeping so close to his chest and even if it's just a four-line joke, it feels a little less impossible
I joke about Hans Capon being a damsel in need of constant rescue but he's actually so incredibly brave, and so skilled. His only flaw is caring.
He's a very good archer and he's been training under Bernard, so obviously his combat skills are commendable but he's not expected to be putting those skills to use in the frontlines. He was raised to be a diplomat, to talk, to lead, and he's also very good at that (you'll know if you let him lead negotiations in the game) BUT shit changes when he starts caring about people. When he starts caring about Henry. Pairing him with Henry was supposed to be punishment but they end up becoming best friends. Hans learns to respect, care for, and love a commoner, someone he always saw as below him. He was never supposed to be going on crazy missions but Henry is going, so he wants to go, he'd never leave his side!
He simply forgets the fact that he's not expendable, he's a goddamn noble, so the stuff Henry, the gang, soldiers and knights are doing on a regular basis are more dangerous to him because he's valuable to enemies. He needs to be constantly reminded by the others of how important he is, and still he ignores it, because all he wants is to prove himself brave and worthy, he wants to protect Henry, he wants to go wherever Henry goes, even though Henry is technically only doing his job to protect his lord.
He feels shattered when Henry leaves Suchdol with Sam and that's why I'm obsessed with that last romance scene. Hans has never been so vulnerable like that, he's scared, his voice is shaky, he knows this mission is ten times more dangerous than the others, they are exhausted and starved and people won't let him go with Henry. It's clear to me neither of them ever saw it coming. This ain't love, right? Right? But it has been from the start. Every single romance line with Hans is about caring. I care more than you know. I won't let anything happen to you. I'll be back and everything will be fine. That first kiss is a burst of emotion. If this was a musical Hans Capon would be singing. And he relaxes and smiles when Henry leads him to bed because for a couple hours they're safe, they're equals and there's only love between them.
Anyway all this blabbering was just so I could reiterate that love made Hans Capon brave, and that bravery mixed in with his young age makes him reckless, sure, but if having a noble title isn't stopping him from rushing to the trenches with Henry, imagine what he would do if he didn't have those shackles! My Henry would save his ass a thousand times over and over again, because Hans would do the same if he could.
Eyyyyyy it's part 2! I was going to post this earlier today and then ended up rewriting half of it instead. Writing life, amirite?
Title: Measured With Blood
Rating: M for themes of canon-typical violence and sexual content
Summary: Hans reflects on his relationship with Henry and how it is viewed by the people around them.
(Part 1)
Part 2: Godwin & Zizka
Hans had not met Zizka under the most ideal circumstances.
Face down in the mud and moderately concussed is not a great way to make any new acquaintance, let alone one who wants to take you hostage. His duel with Henry had Hans’ heart pounding so hard in his breast that he feared he might pass out from its pressure. Henry, precious man, already tired from the battle to get even this close to the fortress. Terribly loyal Henry, already battered and bloodied, hands slipping on the grip of his sword and eyesight marred by blood leaking from a cut above his brow.
Henry, the one man Hans trusted without question, even during their stupid fight after the night spent in the stocks, refused to stand down, pacing angrily in front of his fallen lord. Henry, more precious to Hans than anything else in this world, was going to die.
Henry was going to die at this man’s hands, and Hans would spend every remaining second of his life trying to kill him in return.
And yet Henry must have had some reserve of monstrous strength because by God’s merciful light, he won. He won, and took the bandit’s eye to boot. The victory was short-lived, as Henry blacked out shortly after their escort carried them past the gates of Nebakov. They had been thrown in a cell together, one of two, though Hans couldn’t bring himself to take note of the occupants of the other. It wasn’t until Henry awoke that Hans felt he could finally breathe fully again, and after that he seemed to be little more than a decoration for the events at Nebakov. Godwin swept in and saved their asses from the fire, leaving them to find occupation around the fort. Henry of course had slipped right into place among the ragtag group there, but Hans had felt as painfully out of place as a pebble in your boot.
He has nothing meaningful to contribute, so he spent his time recovering his composure, catching Godwin up on their misadventures, and drowning his sorrows in what ended up being some pretty piss-poor wine. A few games of dice later and he was announcing to Henry that honestly, it had been a bad fucking day and he just wanted to sleep. So he did.
When the Praguers came with Von Bergow, it was clear that Zizka didn’t think much of Hans’ usefulness in the fight, but he needed every man he could get.
“Put me on the wall with the archers,” Hans said, testing the bow he’d been given. It wasn’t bad, raided from the fortress’s armory, but it certainly wasn’t a stand-out example of the bowyer’s art. “I’m a good shot.”
Zizka’s face said it all. “No offense, sir Capon, but as a noble-”
“Give the lad arrows and put him on the wall,” Godwin rolled his eyes. “Noble blood doesn’t mean shit right now. He’s the most skilled archer in Rattay. Let him lead the archers at the gate.”
“Very well. I don’t suppose I need to tell you how important it is to keep men off the gates.”
It was only by reminding himself of his vow to be worthy of Henry that Hans managed to bite back his sarcastic response and said only, “I’ll do my best.” He didn’t even snap at Zizka’s obviously skeptical expression; merely turned and climbed to his position above the gates with the other archers. Hans rather felt he was already making massive strides towards self-improvement.
Nebakov wasn’t the end of it, though. When he had first met Zizka at the Devil’s Den, it was clear their acquaintance was not improving. Not that it was souring, necessarily. Hans had a grudging respect for the man, who fought and led his men with skill and conviction. But something about Zizka’s rough and hard-calculating ways rubbed Hans wrong, and it was also clear that something in Hans made Zizka hide a patronizing frown whenever he spoke up during meetings. And he did have to hand it to Zizka on that one, he did hide them. Hans only caught glimpses of them in passing moments.
Every time he volunteered to do something, to take a mission, go on an errand, to do something helpful of substance, Zizka was there to shoot him down. Hans was fairly certain, he reflected with surly gloom from the balcony as he very pointedly didn’t glare down at where Zizka sat, he might stab the next person who told him he was too valuable to be helpful. He was beginning to think it was sheer divine intervention that he was even allowed to go out on his hunting trips as he was, though he supposed the inn needed more food than usual these days and without his regular contributions, things might get much more tight come mealtimes.
He didn’t notice Godwin come to rest beside him until the man nudged his shoulder with his own. “Your lad will be back soon, don’t fret.”
Hans snorted, taking a long drink from the tankard he’d been nursing. “I of all people should know Henry’s capable,” he said.
Godwin drank from his own tankard and shrugged in return. “And yet here you are, sulking alone and staring out at the road like an abandoned lover.”
That time Hans snorted his ale, spraying it out over the railing so it fell in a disgusting mist on the table below, who yelled in annoyance. Hans ignored them, turning to stare at Godwin. “I beg your pardon?!”
“Henry will come back.”
“I know that!” Hans ignored the way his voice rose an octave. “I think out of everyone here I probably know that the best!”
“Oh, it’s that way, is it?” Godwin asked, the ghost of a smirk on his aging features.
“What way?”
“You know Henry best, do you?”
“That’s not what-” Hans snapped his jaw shut and took a deep breath. “What I meant was that I’ve seen Henry accomplish some of the most idiotic, suicidal, impossible tasks. They may all have faith because they’ve seen some of what he can do, but-” Hans gestured widely at the crowd slowly building beneath them, “they haven’t even seen the half of it yet.”
Godwin took his time with his drink, an eyebrow raised at Hans’ statement, but not quite directing it at him. “You’re bragging about him now, eh?”
“Bragging abo-” Hans turned in indignation. “You’d be bragging about him too if you were the type, father.”
“Aye, I might at that,” Godwin conceded. “Although I’d brag about you too, come to think of it.”
“Yeah, sure,” Hans snorted, his sour mood returning instantly. “Pull the other one, it's got bells on.”
“I would, lad.”
“Don’t lie on my account.”
Godwin frowned and turned to look at Hans more closely now. He had initially thought that perhaps the young man was lonely, watching Henry ride off again and leaving him behind with a group of hooligans that Hans would have a hard time fitting in with. Perhaps there was more to it than that, though. “If I were going to lie to you, I’d tell a better one. You’ve done a lot to be proud of.”
“Aye, well, feel free to start singing my praises any day then. Maybe if an angelic choir came down upon my shoulders Zizka would actually let me do something for damn once.”
Ah. The missing piece was found at last, Godwin realized.
“Jan Zizka is a tough man to get along with,” he said. “He’s a man who is used to his command, and is perhaps unused to impertinent young nobles with a history of being kidnapped.”
“He seems to value Henry well enough,” Hans snarled.
Godwin winced. He wasn’t drunk enough for this. “Aye, well, Henry is… When it comes to Henry, you know, he’s…”
Hans flopped down onto the floor of the balcony, letting his legs slot through the railing and kicking his feet fitfully. “Henry is Henry,” he said ruefully. “And I’m well aware that I’m not.”
“No, you’re not Henry-”
“Oi-!”
“-you’re something better. Because you’re someone Henry trusts and respects. And we both know that he doesn’t have too many names on that list.”
They fell silent, staring out at the darkening forest for a while before Godwin took a deep breath. “I won’t pretend I have some insight into Zizka and why he keeps tying you down, Hans, but I suspect it does have something to do with Henry.”
“What, sacrifice the peasant so the valuable noble gets to live? What rot.”
Godwin snorted. “Hardly. I think it’s because he knows if you’re taken again, or hurt, or – heaven and all the Saints forbid it – killed… Henry would be beyond Zizka’s control.”
Hans looked up at the old priest with confusion clear in his eyes. “What?”
“You were locked away so of course you wouldn’t know, but while he was working to save you, Henry was at odds with everyone every step of the way. Zizka and the Devil kept telling him to leave you where you were; you’re a noble, they wouldn’t hurt a valuable prisoner. His mission to get you was done entirely without Zizka’s permission or knowledge.”
“What does that have to do with-”
“You’re a valuable captive, Capon, but the question you aren’t asking yourself is, to who?” Zizka emerged from the doorway, bandage slightly askew on his head. Hans stood quickly, brushing himself off.
“Hanush is the one paying my ran-” Hans faltered at Zizka’s expression. “What?”
Godwin clapped a hand on their shoulders. “I… am not drunk enough for this. You two have fun,” he grumbled before making haste back inside to seek out ale.
Zizka frowned after him, and Hans took a perverse sort of joy in seeing that expression pointed at someone else for once. He turned back to Hans, scratching idly at his cheek under the bandage where his wound was still healing. “Hanush would pay a handsome ransom for you, that’s true,” Zizka said, leaning against the wall. “But what would happen then?”
Hans scoffed. “He'd drag me all the way back to Rattay by my ear, of course. I'm not a fool, I know he thinks I'm just a foolish child-”
“Aye, Hanush might. But despite what you think, I don't. You held together better than most at Nebakov, and Henry and Godwin have spoken very highly of you. I believe you do have skill. But you get taken ransom, and Hanush retrieves you – if he'd even be allowed to – and then you get dragged away. And Henry goes with you.”
Hans raised his eyebrows, figuring his yes, and? was fairly clear.
“Henry is a one-man army,” Zizka said.
“So instead of letting one of Sigismund's lackeys hold me hostage, you're holding me hostage instead, so Henry will work for you.” Hans’ eyes narrowed. “I'm not sure how this is supposed to look any better for you.”
“No, that’s not-!” Zizka sighed, crossing his arms in tense frustration. “You're no prisoner here. You know we let you come and go as you wish.”
“I'm just not allowed to ever actually help with anything.”
“Because if something happened to you, Henry would stop listening to reason,” Zizka growled.
Hans blinked in surprise. “If something happened to me, he'd be yours to hold.”
“No, he wouldn't,” the older man said, shaking his head. “I considered you a fairly intelligent man, Lord Capon but I'm reconsidering that. Do you really think that Henry thinks so little of you he'd run off to a new master the second you were gone?”
There wasn't really an adequate response to that, so Hans didn't bother coming up with one. In his mind, though, images of Henry were flashing past. Untying his wrists with Cuman blood still warm on his hands. Dragging him through Talmberg to safety. Pacing in front of where he lay on the ground. Immediately pinning Brabant with a dagger to his throat, demanding information. The strength of the hug when Hans emerged from the shadows to greet him.
“If you were injured, Henry would kill everyone around you and then ignore all else to carry you to safety. If you died-” Hans huffed a sigh as Zizka cut himself off, shaking his head before continuing, “I don't know if he could be stopped. I'm not sure he'd know friend from foe, at that point.”
Hans tries to say something, but after several seconds of trying to find words, he lets his jaw close and stares down into his empty tankard.
“So no, Lord Capon, we’re not holding you here like a prisoner. What we’re trying to do is keep you safe so that Henry doesn’t… doesn’t slip his leash. The lad’s only a half step from feral most days, and you being safe is the last log holding the dam back.”
That was going a step too far, in Hans’ opinion, and his head snapped up to glare. “If he seems that way, maybe you should give him a day’s rest once in a while! Those circles under his eyes don’t just appear there! If he’s running himself into the ground, it’s on your orders, Zizka! So you keep me here to keep him from going wild but it seems to me that letting him get a full night’s sleep on an actual bed and maybe three full meals and a bath might do just as much good!”
Zizka blinked, his eyebrows raised in surprise, and it wasn’t until he paused to catch his breath that Hans realized he’d been slowly advancing on the man. “...I see.”
Hans squinted, unwilling to surrender the momentum he’d gained. “And what do you see, sir?”
Zizka was unwilling to be cowed quite so easily, though, and he narrowed his eyes in return. “It seems you two are quite the pair. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a squire so devoted to his lord… and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a lord so devoted in return.”
“We make a good team,” Hans said quietly. “If you’d ever give us the chance to show you.”
Zizka took a deep breath and heaved it out in one great whoosh. “I won’t promise you anything, lad. But perhaps I’ll consider what you’ve said.”
“I’m not asking you for anything. I am telling you that the next time Henry returns, he will remain here for at least a day before he is sent off again. No!” Hans raised his hand to cut off Zizka, who had opened his mouth to say something dismissive by his expression. “No. I am not asking. This is not a request. I am telling you what is going to happen. I’m not here to upset your command of your men, but Henry is not your man, he is mine, and his well being is my concern. And we both know, if it comes down to it, whose orders he will follow.”
Silence fell between the pair. After several long moments, Hans pulled himself in, regaining some of his usual calm demeanor. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to go bathe my feet in the stream for a bit. It’s been a long day, and I think I fancy an evening of watching the fireflies. God be with you, sir.”
Hans stepped around him and disappeared into the building, leaving Zizka to stare off down the road into the distance. Godwin appeared a short while later, two tankards in hand. He passed one to Zizka with a chuckle. “I warned you not to underestimate him.”
“You warned me about Henry,” Zizka said, taking a drink. “You didn’t say anything about Capon.”
Godwin leaned out over the railing, watching as Hans slung a wineskin over his shoulder and snagged a couple of bread rolls off a table before striding off into the trees towards the stream. “If you’ll recall, I told you that they were very close friends. Quite willing to go to war for each other. I did mean both of them. Hans may seem like an indulgent sop, but he’s got steel in his core.”
“Aye, and I can see Henry’s put his smith’s hands to work on it.”
“They’re as bad as each other, those two. Be careful you don’t rile Hans like that again, or you may lose him. And you know that where he goes-”
“-Henry will follow. Aye, I see your point. I’ll be more cautious from now on."
This is a multi-part disaster that I wrote completely out of order and will be posting as I get things edited and comprehensible. Eventually it'll go up on AO3 but you'll see it here first, folks! However, as I am a terrible old person who got her fanfic start on ff.net back before the dawning of Fandom As We Know It Today, my formatting here is probably going to be trash. Please be patient while I learn the ways of Tumblr.
Title: Measured With Blood
Rating: M for themes of canon-typical violence and sexual content
Summary: Hans reflects on his relationship with Henry and how it is viewed by the people around them.
1: Hans
Hans was an expert at denial. It was perhaps the only true and consistent thing about himself, he felt. Of course, he would never say that out loud. But he knew, deep within his churning heart, that he was extremely good at ignoring things he did not want to acknowledge.
He had first noticed it in Nebakov. Well, no. That wasn’t true, but Hans wasn’t willing to admit that he’d actually observed the phenomenon happening not long after Henry had been assigned to serve him. But he had ignored it because Hans was, as previously stated, an expert in denial. Which was why he found himself watching in fascination as Henry ambled around the fort making himself useful, and that was probably the secret to it. Hans was decorative. Maybe that was the second true thing about Hans; his use was limited and everyone around him seemed to know it too. Except Henry, who seemed to value Hans higher than anything else.
Henry made friends everywhere. Even in places that, by all rights, should be extraordinarily hostile towards him. Hans didn’t make friends. But Henry did, and Hans had the feeling he didn’t actually know even half of the adventures and mischief he’d gotten up to while Hans was away from him To begin with, Henry had very plainly already had an in with that herbalist, Klara. She had greeted him with relief, and they chatted like old friends as she listed all the many things she had to do. Henry had promptly offered to tend to some of the wounded for her, and Hans had wondered briefly when Henry had developed his medicinal skills. Then he had seen Henry speaking hesitantly with the blacksmith whose name Hans had never bothered to ask. The man had an aura of belligerent busyness that encompassed the entire smithy and Hans had reflected that actually, his armor didn’t really need those minor repairs right now. When he had wandered past barely an hour later, Henry was hammering away at something on the anvil as the smith sat at the grindwheel, the two of them shouting a conversation back and forth over the noise of their work.
It was like his special power or something. A blessing from God, maybe, to make up for his unfortunate beginnings in life. Henry could charm almost anyone simply by being himself, and those he couldn’t charm he managed to get around anyway somehow. Hans, on the other hand, barely seemed able to charm anyone as himself. Oh he charmed them, definitely. He was good at it, even. But he charmed people as Lord Capon, as the reasonably rich noble Lord of Pirkstein. No one was ever charmed by Hans.
Except Henry.
Henry, who laughed at Hans’ jokes, even the stupid ones. Who asked for his advice and seemed to actually place value in it, considering what Hans had to say before making a decision. Henry, who did small things to make Hans' already easy life even easier, just because he liked when Hans smiled. Henry, who genuinely seemed to actually see something worth caring about in Hans Capon. It was baffling. Henry could have had anyone in the world, gone and done anything he wanted on the power of his sincerity and smile alone, and he chose… to stay. With Hans. A useless, stupid, spoiled brat of a man. He just didn’t get it.
Hans was no stranger to feeling inadequate. It was one of the things he was the best at ignoring. He had grown up spoiled, sheltered, held apart, never given anything of substance on which to value himself. Oh, he believed Hanush had his best interests at heart, but Hans also believed that Hanush had his own interests even deeper at heart, and Hanush’s interests didn’t involve Hans actually growing into a person worthy of taking charge of Pirkstein and Rattay. And so Hans had been raised into a somewhat indolent, idle prick of a man, and it wasn’t until Henry appeared in his life that Hans began to truly see what he was becoming. Because he knew. Hans knew exactly what was happening to him, but he had also never been taught to care so he ignored it. Then some impertinent peasant boy had stood in front of him, unwilling to be cowed by the title or threats of violence. Hans had been confronted by a mirror, a reflection of himself in Henry’s angry eyes. And it was terrible, waking up from that warm slow existence to the cold truth of his own insufficiency.
So he kept ignoring it. He went on as he had been, treating Henry more or less poorly, even after he had saved his life more than once. Because he was still in denial. Hans had been in denial about his situation all the way to the moment at the Semine wedding when he found himself launching a punch at a man approaching Henry from behind. Found himself thinking that was his bodyguard, damn it, how dare they try and hurt him.
Then they’d come to in the Trosky dungeon and Hans was staring down his own inadequacy again, seeing his own pathetic reflection in Henry’s eyes. His apology had been poorly executed and Henry had accepted it anyway, forgiven him for everything at the drop of a hat, and that was also the moment when Hans realized he was well and truly fucked because he hadn’t planned on this. Hadn’t planned on falling in love with the god damn impertinent peasant boy who looked at him like he was worth something.
When he had been younger Hans had heard a visiting lord say that a man’s worth could be measured in blood, and Hans had assumed he’d meant the strength of the noble blood. Or that perhaps it was meant to describe soldiers, and the amount of blood a man shed from his enemies. But now? God in heaven, now Hans knew. Whatever that lord had meant, he knew that he could measure the worth of a man by how much blood he would shed to keep him safe by his side, forever.
Hans would shed a lot of blood, to keep Henry safe with him. Because God have mercy on his sinning soul, Hans was in love with Henry, and he had spent all the rest of his time since that moment trying to become the sort of man Henry deserved by his side.
I just wanna talk about how SCARED Hans must've been during the prologue, at least up until they got to Bozhena's. Initially afraid they'd get caught by the camp, the fear left and shot right back through his heart when he looks over and sees Henry wounded and bleeding. A lot. Then having to watch as Henry, while injured, tries to find a path through the rocks. Then watching as both Henry and Mutt fall from the top of the rocks. And then when he finally gets to Henry after the fall he just... Won't. Wake. Up.
And when he finally does wake up, he can tell immediately that things are very wrong. The strong, unbeatable, stubborn person he's come to love care about needs his protection for once. And it's terrifying. Because he can't fail him, not when Henry has always come through. I just love how you can see his thought process when Henry starts to hallucinate, he simply just doesn't believe it at first. It's also most likely the first real time he's seen Henry's raw unmasked motions about Skalitz, seen his heart open and bleeding for everything he's lost. And he has no idea how to comfort him. They get more frequent, more horrific, and longer as time goes on. Henry is slipping and slipping fast.
It's been said before but him saying 'please' when they reach the hut. Is just so HUGE. At this point I do believe Hans hasn't fully realized his feelings. Though he does still have a VERY strong affection for Henry, seeing as how he is the first and so far only friend he has ever made. (I'll do another post about when I think both of them fell and who fell first, later.) He just can't lose Henry too, not after the others at the lake. Not when he already felt the beginnings of guilt for their deaths clawing up into his lungs.
Just been thinking about what must've been going through his head at the time.
**I often wondered what might have been going through Hans’s head in the quiet between crossing swords with Henry and drinking with Godwin. This is my attempt to step into that silence.**
The night was quiet, broken only by the crackle of logs in the hearth.
Firelight moved across the walls, the furniture, and two naked bodies, tangled together on the bed.
Henry lay on his back. Hans was curled beside him, his head resting on Henry’s chest.
One arm draped across his broad torso, their legs tangled, hips pressed close.
Henry’s rough fingers moved slowly through Hans’s hair, and Hans gave himself over to the moment, eyes closed.
He felt the soft brush of chest hair against his cheek, the heat of Henry’s skin all around him.
He listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and breathed in the scent of him — still warm with sweat from the love they’d just made.
Hans was exhausted.
Starving. Bone-deep tired.
And still, all he wanted was to stop time and hold this moment in place.
War, death, hunger — they were out there, inching closer with every hour —
but right now, they felt impossibly far away.
There was only this.
Only Henry.
Their bodies, their hearts, locked together.
Hans was slipping toward sleep, cradled by heat and breath and heartbeat —
when Henry drew in a long breath, and broke the stillness.
“I should go,” he said quietly. “The night’s well along.”
He sat up, eyes moving over the scattered pieces of armour and clothing flung across the room in want and haste.
Slowly, he reached for his trousers.
“I’ll help,” Hans said, kneeling before him to fasten the buckles on his leg plates.
As he worked, he caught himself wishing the armour could actually protect Henry.
That these pieces — cloth, leather, steel — could somehow hold back the worst the world had to offer.
After a while, they stood facing each other in the middle of the room.
Henry, already in armour, the fire catching on buckles and leather.
Hans, bare as the night he was born — so close, and yet already on the other side of something.
Neither said a word.
Their eyes met and held.
Then Henry reached out and took Hans’s hands in his.
“Don’t forget what you promised,” Hans said — quiet, steady, but it barely hid the break in his voice.
“I’ll be back,” Henry answered.
He let go of Hans’s hands only to draw him in by the hips.
Their kiss was slow. And full of everything they didn’t say.
Henry turned to the door, slid back the bolt, and opened it just a little.
Then he glanced back over his shoulder.
Hans hadn’t moved. He still stood in the centre of the room, eyes locked on him.
Henry smiled — that one smile Hans could have picked out of a thousand.
Quiet. Certain. And with just enough mischief to make it his.
His smile.
And then he stepped out, and closed the door behind him.
Hans listened to the fading footsteps.
The creak of a door.
The dull sound of boots on stairs.
And then — silence.
He sat down on the bed, slowly.
His hand moved across the hollow in the sheets where Henry’s back had been.
Maybe he imagined it.
But the warmth felt real.
He let out a breath, sharp and low, and pressed his hands to his knees.
He should have gone with him.
Should have stood by him.
Not as Capon. Not as a lord.
Just as Hans.
Just as his.
To watch his back.
To bleed beside him, if that’s what it came to.
But here he was.
Sitting still, nowhere to go, nothing to do but feel it twist inside him.
His jaw clenched.
And for a second, he hated every thread of the name that kept him here.
He stared into the fire, but it wasn’t the flames he saw.
It was Henry.
Scaling a wall in silence.
Laughing, breathless, with his hair damp from love.
Moving like smoke between armoured men.
That kiss. That look just before it.
The weight of his body, warm and certain, tangled with his own.
Henry in battle — eyes narrowed, blood on his cheek.
Henry, coming back.
Henry, not coming back.
Hans stood slowly.
The fire was burning low.
The room felt too small.
He stood for a long moment, still as stone.
This is too much.
He dressed without thinking, his hands moving on their own.
Outside, the night was cool and heavy with mist.
On the battlements, a figure stood outlined against the dark.
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Kingdom Come: Deliverance (Video Games)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Hans Capon/Henry
Characters: Hans Capon, Henry (Kingdom Come: Deliverance)
Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Romance, Period-Typical Homophobia, Religious Guilt, Spoilers for Kingdom Come: Deliverance II, Established Relationship, Crying, POV Hans Capon, Love
Summary:
In the darkness of the early morning, Hans’ body cannot find rest. Instead, his mind spirals into wicked thoughts of self-doubt and fear. He so desperately needs Henry’s comfort, but he refuses to wake him.
romaincrisis
dededos
blakekathryn
germansingergirl
turnnoffyourmind
andulkaphoto
yousharknotpass
