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    Summary

    Henry could have reminded him that he didn’t actually have a writ from the king or any local lord allowing him to hunt here, but secretly he loved that in this one way Hans was just as much of an outlaw as the rest of them. No matter how much he claimed special privileges, Trotsky had made it clear that Hans Capon was a mortal man like any other. Even Hans understood that now. So long as he didn’t go boasting about it anymore, Henry would be a hypocrite to tell him off for poaching again.

    “That’s right. You owe me,” Henry teased instead. “I believe there were plans for a picnic as well?”

    Saying that aloud, and the way Hans’s eyes softened in response, made Henry wonder how long they’d been wooing each other without realizing.

    Or; another post-canon hunting excursion as a thin cover for fucking and plotting

    Language:
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    Chapters:
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