"Papa?" Heinrich Sat Up In Bed, Clutching His Little Toy Wooden Duck, "what Happened After Uncle Henry

"Papa?" Heinrich sat up in bed, clutching his little toy wooden duck, "what happened after uncle Henry fell off the cliff?"

"I brought him to a local herb woman," Hans said simply, sitting beside his son on the bed, "she saved his life."

Heinrich frowned, confused, "oh. That's not how uncle Henry sees it."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you carried uncle Henry through the woods. He was really hurt and talking nonsense," Heinrich explained enthusiastically, "you kept him sane and alive. You're a hero, Papa! A brave knight!"

Hans chuckled, shaking his head, "I didn't do anything Henry wouldn't have done for me."

"Does that mean uncle Henry isn't a hero?" Heinrich asked, lying back down onto the bed. Hans folded his arms thoughtfully.

"No. Of course not."

Heinrich smiled sleepily, "so why is it different for you? You can be a brave knight, too."

Hans just smiled softly, brushing his son's hair from his face as he drifted off to sleep. He found Henry by the fire, pouring them a goblet of wine each. He took one gratefully, sipping at it thoughtfully as he sat with Henry.

"You've been telling him fairy tales again," Hans murmured, staring into the fire, "of brave knights and heroes."

Henry chuckled, nudging his lord, "nah, I don't believe in fairy tales. I only told him the truth."

"Thank you, Henry," he reached across, gripping Henry's knee, "you're my hero, too."