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"Keeping me company, are you? You really are a strange one. My kind of strange, if I'm honest."
The moment the words leave his mouth Strohl wants to smack himself. Who says something like that to someone trying to comfort him, let alone to someone they've just met? He'd surely been alone for some time, but he didn't think it would have made him this socially inept.
He's truly lucky that Will takes it all in stride by the way he lets out a quiet chuckle. "I'm honored," he replies lightheartedly, as if he's joking— but only partially. "But, really. If you'd like to talk about what you're thinking, I'd be glad to listen."
Ah. Right. That's what had led him to say something bizarre in the first place.
"Well…" Strohl flexes the fingers above his knee as he searches for a thought to land on, but they rush through his mind like a stampede, rendering him unable to capture one. "…I wouldn't even know where to begin. It's just— just a lot, I guess."
"Then we can talk about something else," Will offers with a slight tilt of his head. "Whatever's fine with me."
Will's ever-so accommodating nature is still unfamiliar to him, and, frankly, he instinctively wants to pull away. From many people, this sort of kindness does not come without a price; and yet, Will feels like a wide-open book, with not a single ulterior motive behind his heterochromatic eyes. After Strohl essentially shoehorned himself into the team, he supposes it's only right to push his doubts away.
"Something else…" He muses out loud, absently staring at the wall in front of him. "…Ah, I've got it. If it's not imposing…" he clears his throat and forces the question past his lips: "…How did you get to know the prince?"
He focuses on Will's face in time to see the younger man blink in what he assumes is surprise and hurriedly reiterates: "If it's too painful, you don't have to—"
"No, no, it's not that," Will reassures, shaking his head. "I just wasn't expecting you to ask about him, I guess." He glances up at the ceiling for a moment, taking a deep breath along with it.
"I've known him as long as I can remember… I'm not sure how we met, but I'd guess it would be one of the first times he snuck out to read… I think." his face scrunches up. "Yeah, that sounds right. He loves that book— this book—" he taps the cover of the novel with his fingers. "—so much. The idea of utopia means a lot to him."
"A utopia, eh?" Strohl echoes. "Is that what it's about? Feels like months ago now that I spotted you buried in it on the carriage ride to the fort."
It felt as if he had known Will for months, too, but he keeps that sentiment to himself.
"Want to read it?" Will picks the book up from the mattress with a smile.
"If you don't mind, since we've finally some room to breathe."
Will nods and pushes himself off the mattress before crossing the short distance from his bed to Strohl's. Strohl shifts so he can let his legs hang off the side of the bed, allowing Will enough room to settle in next to him.
The book is opened to where Will left off, discussing measures of security and designating sovereigns in this utopia. As they read, Strohl can't help but let his mind wander within the optimism of the book's ideals. It seems impossible to achieve any steadfast unity between all of the tribes. He'd seen how fellow clemars treated anyone 'lesser'; he's watched people whisper behind their hands or even yell insults towards Will on the sole account of him being an elda.
Despite this, as he looks down at the man next to him, he wonders if something— or someone— could bring the diverse people of Euchronia together. Perhaps the prince's idea of a utopia is feasible so long as he believes in it enough. At the very least, Will seems to believe it wholeheartedly, so why not hold a little optimism for this goal of theirs to save the prince, to put him on the throne as he so rightfully deserves?
The idea placates his barrage of thoughts and brings on a tiredness he's sure has been lingering without him noticing. "Well, this helped clear my thoughts," he admits once he finishes reading. "Thank you, Will."
"Of course." Will closes the book shut with a snap and rises from the bed, stretching his arms with the momentum. "Good night, Strohl."
"Good night."
Strohl lays himself down and, with dreams of a utopia filling his mind, gives himself to slumber.
Strohl supposes it must be fate to have put the team in Martira.
He lies awake in their inn room— a more common occurrence since setting out on this journey, he's noticed— and attempts to wrap his head around it all. He could have never imagined the suggestion of taking a bounty for a kidnapper in order to attain their head for the tournament to lead to all that had happened: a new member for their team, a mystery solved, and above all the fact that the missing townspeople had been used to feed a human that Lady Joanna kept as her 'child'.
As much as he hates to admit it to himself, he couldn't understand Joanna in the slightest. How could she see that thing as a replacement child? She was grieving, certainly, but how does grief warp into affection for such a creature? His head aches trying to address the conundrum. He wants to understand, to break the typically insensitive nature of clemars, but he instead finds himself frustrated at how short he falls.
Strohl's progressively self-deprecating thoughts come to a halt when he hears a mattress creak and feet hitting the floor.
He lifts his head just enough to see a slim silhouette quietly slip out of the room— no doubt it's Will. What could he be doing out at this time? Strohl hesitates between ignoring it or following Will. Eventually curiosity— and only the slightest bit of worry— wins out, so he rolls out of bed and carefully exits.
He's not entirely sure where Will went, but the inn is quiet enough that the slightest noise would disturb it, and he figures the other man must have made his way outside. The cool night air hits his face pleasantly when he opens the door to the main circle of town. Despite its horrible secrets, he thinks, Martira feels… Almost homely, in a sense. Like what Halia could have been.
With a sigh, he shakes himself from his thoughts. He's getting distracted. He came outside to find Will, not to reminisce.
"Strohl?"
Strohl jumps at the call of his name coming from his side. "Will! You startled me."
"Sorry," Will chuckles, not sounding sorry in the slightest. "You looked like you were thinking about something. Can't sleep?"
Once again he finds himself at a decision: tell Will the truth, or lie to save face? Now that he stands here, it's embarrassing to have followed after his captain in the middle of the night. However, if anyone were to judge him, it would not be Will.
He confesses: "I happened to hear you leave, so… I guess I came out to see if something was the matter."
"Oh." Will scratches at his neck, where he would typically pull at his coat collar. "I'm alright. I was having trouble sleeping, so I figured a walk might help."
"Mind if I join you, then?"
"Not at all."
And so he falls into step with Will, staying cognizant of his pace as to not leave the shorter man behind. No matter how often they've stood shoulder-to-shoulder, from the first time back at the recruitment center to now, their difference in height never failed to fascinate him. It's easy to put on the air of someone powerful when you seemingly have the physical advantage— a fact learned quickly in the context of his brief military enlistment— but Will holds no intimidating stature nor tribal leverage. Instead, he possesses a quiet, almost gentle confidence, a virtue that has already brought more people to stand behind their cause than Strohl could have ever imagined.
He's also envious of it, in a way. He, in comparison, is inclined to speak before he thinks, and it's gotten him into enough trouble as it is. It was easy to brush off when he was a kid, and his parents would always explain to him that people do not take so kindly to such blunt remarks; but, would they disagree with how he interjects now? When it's for the sake of standing up for their name, his people, his companions? For the nature of justice itself?
"You're thinking again."
Will comes to a halt at a bench in the center of town, bringing Strohl to realize he'd been elsewhere their entire walk. "Ah—"
"It's okay," Will cuts him off before he can apologize. "Do you want to talk about it?"
The same late-night proposition from a month past. He can't believe so little time has passed since then.
"It's nothing serious," Strohl says, sitting down on the bench with a sigh. "Just… Thinking about my own faults."
"Your faults?" Will questions, joining him. He sits close, just enough to let their knees brush. "Like what?"
From anyone else the question would seem mocking, but Will sounds genuinely curious, so he indulges: "Like… How my mouth tends to get ahead of my thoughts," he starts, mulling over his thoughts from the evening thus far. "Or how I feel like I don't understand others enough. Or… That I don't have enough strength in my own personality to get people to see me past being a clemar."
His last statement surprises even him. Combined with his other sentiments, he supposes it makes sense to feel that he's lacking as a whole, especially when he stands next to someone with the very virtues he finds himself coveting.
Will lets out a quiet hum. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to improve," he replies, slowly. "But I think you're too hard on yourself."
"Am I now?"
"Yes." Will firmly nods his head. "You have so many strengths that I'm impressed by. You have no issues with looking past someone's tribe to see their character. You're never afraid to speak your mind, or stand up for someone, even if it's for a person you've barely even met." He's smiling, now. "Your belief in your convictions is so strong that it makes it easier to stay true to mine."
Will's forthright praise is nothing short of overwhelming. Strohl turns his head away to hide the heat rising to his face. "You— You don't have to flatter me to make me feel better."
"I mean it."
He knows, and that's what makes it all the more embarrassing. He knows because he trusts Will, more than he's ever trusted a single person before, and it's a strange— but not unwelcome— feeling to have so much faith in someone else in such little time.
"Well… Thank you," Strohl finally manages to say after a deep exhale. "I suppose if our captain says it, it must be true."
With a satisfied grin, Will concurs: "Exactly."
Their conversation drifts away, and they sit in comfortable silence for a little while longer. The idea that someone, especially someone like Will, could see his flaws in such a flattering perspective fills his heart with a comforting warmth. Of course, it doesn't resolve him from his imperfections; but it does round out the edges of an otherwise sharp insistence in his mind.
The stillness is broken by the sound of a yawn escaping from Will. "We've been out here for awhile," he says, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. "We should probably head back."
Strohl fails to fight back a yawn of his own. "Quite right. Shall we, then?"
Will leads them back to the inn, and Strohl follows, just like always.
"Are you coming back inside, Strohl?"
"In a minute. I'd like to enjoy the breeze a bit longer."
Will comes to stand next to him, leaning his forearms against the rail. "I'm surprised you're still upright," he says, concern underlining his voice. "You got hit pretty hard."
"Nothing I can't handle," Strohl shifts his back against the railing and grimaces. "Though I'm certain I'll feel it in the morning."
He had only been struck by the human's tentacles a few times before the combined efforts of him and Will sliced them to pieces, but the force of them had left welts in areas he anticipates will bruise terribly.
"Let me know if you need me to heal you again," Will offers. "I don't mind."
"You needn't worry so much about me. I don't want you wasting your energy on such minor injuries."
"It's not 'wasting energy' if it means keeping my friend in the best shape possible," Will retorts with a frown. "Even a small wound can become dangerous if you don't take care of it right away."
The captain's never-ending kindness will kill Strohl one of these days.
"…Alright. I'll let you know if I need it tomorrow," he concedes. "And only if you're up for it."
"Always, for you."
By God, Will truly will be the death of him. He turns his gaze out to his east, praying it only seems that he's looking at the ocean and not trying to hide the blush he's certain has appeared on his face. Why did those words embarrass him so? He wasn't unaccustomed to words of praise or loyalty, but the passing months have found him significantly more flustered by the simplest of statements from the man.
"How do you think the residents of Virgia Island will take to us?" he asks, making conversation in an attempt to ignore his discomposure.
"Not well, probably," Will sighs, closing his eyes. "Not only are we trying to take something important from them, but we're doing it under the guise that they belong to the church…" he glances back briefly before continuing quietly, "…And we're handing it over to Louis."
"My sentiments exactly," Strohl huffs along with him. "The fact that the Church is using this tournament to essentially steal relics is revolting."
"When we break the prince free from the curse, we'll return all of them," Will states. "I know he wouldn't condone taking something from another tribe just because they follow a different religion."
As always, Will's calm yet firm optimism fills Strohl with a fiery hope. "Yeah. We'll make sure of it."
Will gives him a smile before turning back to the vast waters in front of him. "You know, speaking of the prince… I think he'll really like you."
"Me? Really?"
"Yeah. He always enjoyed those traditional fantasies about knights rescuing royalty. I once asked him if it was because he wanted to rescue someone, but instead he said that he would want to be rescued by a knight." He looks up at the star-filled sky with fondness. "You're the perfect image of those knights, I think."
How is he meant to respond to that? How? Strohl's heart feels as if it wants to break out of his chest and make a run for it. He rubs his fingers against his palms in an attempt to quell the sweat gathering there and hopes that Will doesn't notice; or, if he does, that he attributes it to his usual fidgeting.
"I guess that was an embarrassing thing to say…" Will adds sheepishly.
"Not— not at all," Strohl forces himself to stammer out, swallowing thickly. "I'm, ah, I'm honored. Truly."
He didn't know the prince, and he wouldn't say that he had an active enough imagination to conjure up scenarios of him rescuing just any random person from mortal danger. Yet he could imagine saving Will. He had protected him out of pure instinct back at the fort, but now he would put his life on the line because it would be for the sake of Will. Of course he would be the shield to the person who has showed him the way, who has heard him out at every turn, who has become—
He takes in a silent, stuttered inhale.
Who has become the one he loves dearly.
The revelation hits him harder than any human has. Of course that's the answer. How did he not realize sooner? He supposes he didn't exactly have a point of reference to go by, but despite that he has no doubt in his mind that love is what plagues him.
He turns towards Will, who luckily has his eyes closed, and lets the reality of it set in. He's not sure when— or even if— he's meant to say something. He's unsure if Will even feels the same. Yes, he's overly kind to Strohl, but he's plenty kind to both their friends and other acquaintances. It could mean nothing.
At the same time, however, he doesn't want his feelings to become a buried secret. Strohl is well aware that he's always worn his heart on his sleeve, sometimes to his detriment, but he feel it'd be unfair to try and mask his affections until their journey is over. He's lost enough by waiting until the right time that never came.
…But now is not the right time. They both need to keep focus. His feelings won't matter if they fail.
"I think—" Strohl cuts himself off with a yawn. "—I'm going to turn in for the night."
"Alright." Will watches Strohl push himself off of the railing. "I'll come down in a couple of minutes."
"What, are we taking turns now?"
"Hey, you had the right idea. The breeze is nice."
As much as Strohl would rather be in the proximity of Will for just a little longer, he's already made his commitments. "Don't stay up too late, then. Good night, Will."
"Rest well, Strohl."
He makes his way down the deck with feather-light footsteps.
The Dragon Festival is the perfect reprieve before their journey to Altabury.
The festivities are in full swing even before the Dragon's Tears are brought out, and the delirium-inducing fruit only amplifies the revelry. Strohl had only taken a couple of bites before he noticed the… Intriguing way his companions were acting after eating more, so he decided it would be in his best interest to abstain. The gentle buzz in his mind was more than enough.
He's eventually forced to escape the table once Eupha and Hulkenberg begin using his arms as swords. Luckily for him, it gives him the ideal excuse to settle next to Will, who currently stands at the shoreline. Gallica had flown off just moments prior, mumbling something about keeping the team from going overboard with the fruit, leaving the two of them perfectly alone amidst the festival goers.
"What a party, huh?" Will remarks, looking up at Strohl. "I wasn't expecting that fruit to be… What it is."
"Tell me about it," Strohl sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "We've got Heismay babbling on and crying his eyes out… Then Hulkenberg and Eupha were having sword fights with my arms… I had to escape before they pulled them clean off."
Will chuckles. "I don't think that would've happened."
"Maybe not because of Eupha, but Hulkenberg?"
"Fair enough."
The conversation lulls. Strohl fidgets with the bottom of his coat, wondering if the time was apt to say the things that have been on his mind. The bright flames from the Dragon Statue flicker into his peripheral, as if to tell him 'not yet'. "Ah. Right. Now seems as good a time as any to go make our wishes at the Dragon God statue."
"Oh, you're right. Though I'm not sure what to wish for…" admits Will.
"Well, you've got until we walk over there to figure it out," Strohl teases. "Come on."
They make their way over to the Dragon Statue, which stands grandly above them, sitting atop a blaze so bright that islands beyond could see it. In any other context, it would feel intimidating— foreboding, even— but at this moment Strohl feels nothing but anticipation, both for his wish and for the thoughts he wishes to express. He closes his eyes and forces himself to focus on a single wish.
What does he hope for the most? In a brief moment of selfishness, he wants to wish for Will to return his feelings. He perishes the thought as soon as it comes to being, for no matter how strong his feelings are, no wish could change the way someone feels. Even if it could, then it wouldn't be real, and he doesn't want that either. If Will holds affection for him, it should be wholly of his own accord.
So instead his attention ambles towards their journey, their goals. Their next stop to Altabury would be the end of it, assuming all went to plan. He decides that even if he holds confidence that they will succeed, a little help from the Dragon God couldn't hurt; and so he solidifies his wish that they succeed in defeating Louis. If they could manage that, the rest would fall into place.
Strohl slowly opens his eyes with a deep exhale. He's suddenly aware of the feeling of eyes on him and turns to meet Will's gaze. He doesn't know how long Will had been watching him, but by the way he jumps when Strohl looks at him, it must have been for a good while.
"What did you wish for?" Will hurriedly asks. "You were deep in thought for awhile."
"I considered a few, but settled on wishing for our victory over Louis," Strohl says. "It felt important enough. We'll have no second chance, after all."
Will nods his agreement. "I… Wished for the country," comes his reply. "For things to improve, however that happens."
"As selfless as ever. I feel as if your wishes always come true. It's… Something I've always had faith in. In you, that is. I always will."
"I'm glad." Will gives him a timid smile. "And… I'll always have faith in you too."
Perhaps it's the juice of the Dragon's Tears flowing through him, or maybe it's the heat of the fire in front of them, but Strohl can hear his beating heart resonate within his ears. Finally, finally, this feels like the right moment, but there's far too many people around for his liking. So, with what he hopes is with a kept composure, he suggests to Will that they head up to the gauntlet runner to give themselves some space from the others.
Now that they sit on the front deck, knee-to-knee in their similarly cross-legged positions, Strohl feels his anxieties shoot into the stars above. He believes he knows Will enough that, even if he were to reject Strohl, it wouldn't breed any animosity or discomfort. He'd rather not face a rejection at all, though. The humiliation might do him in before there's even a chance to create discord between them. Still, he is committed. Leon Strohl da Haliaetus is not a noble who cowers in the face of self-inflicted adversity.
"It's nice, seeing everyone celebrate from up here," Will comments, pulling Strohl out of his pep talk. "I wonder what they all wished for."
"I'm sure our friends wished for similar things," Strohl responds, looking out over the sand. "But the villagers probably all have their own wishes. Them, and everyone across the country… When you think about it, we're carrying their wishes on our backs, too."
"Does it scare you?" Will asks. "That burden?"
"Of course it does." Not more than what he's planning to say to Will, he thinks. "But this is the path we've chosen, and we'll see it through. For the sake of the country, just as you said." Will hums contentedly at Strohl's words, sitting back on his hands.
Strohl finds himself compelled to continue his train of thought: "You know, sometimes I have this dream…" he hesitates for a breath before pressing on. "…That we fail, that Louis kills us. I know it's ludicrous, but it still manages to scare me."
"That's understandable," Will acknowledges gently.
"But that dream is why—" the words catch in his throat. "—there's something I want to tell you. Before we go to Altabury."
He looks over to Will and their eyes meet again, this time with far more intention. If Will has an idea of what he's about to say, he doesn't show it. His silence seems to be an invitation for Strohl to continue.
So, with a slow, deep inhale, he bares his heart.
"It feels as if I've known you forever, and not only for a few months," he begins, drowned out by the noise of his heart thumping against his ribs. He can't help but glance away from the intensity of Will's gaze. "You are… So different, so unique from anyone I've met before. I'd even go so far as to say that you're special."
Will takes a sharp, audible inhale.
"You amaze me in every way. You are strong in both heart and mind. Your kindness extends further than mine ever could, and you bring people together so easily." The words are tumbling past his lips faster than he can process them, but for once, he feels it's the correct way to speak. "At first I thought it was some sort of envy, that I simply wanted to be like you." He begins to tap his foot between the floor and his calf. "But that wasn't it at all. Instead, I…"
Strohl flounders. He's said far too much to back away now.
He swallows the rest of his trepidation and, just loud enough so only the two of them are sure to hear it: "…I am very much in love with you, Will."
He can't bear to look at Will. He can feel an all-consuming heat across his face, down his neck, even up to the tips of his ears. The noises of the festival are muted, covered by the breeze that passes by them as Strohl waits for Will to say something, anything.
"…Strohl, look at me."
Unable to deny an order from his captain, he slowly drags his gaze across the gauntlet runner's floor, over to Will's coat, and finally up to his face. He's… Not upset, Strohl realizes. Will is turned fully towards him, his pink-tinted cheeks complemented by the most gentle smile Strohl believes he's ever seen. He's positive this means he isn't being flat-out rejected, at least, but—
"Can… Can I kiss you?"
The request and its implication makes his breath hitch, and he barely manages to recover enough to sputter out a hasty "of course", much to his further chagrin. But then Will pushes himself upwards and presses his lips to Strohl's, and all of his distress melts away in an instant. He's never kissed anyone before, and he assumes— hopes— that Will hasn't either, yet the way their lips slot together and his hand tangles itself in dark blue hair like its second nature lets him understand that, inexperience be damned, it feels as if they're made for each other.
Will pulls back slightly for only a fleeting moment, though it's still a moment too long for Strohl. He immediately kisses Will again, half aware of the both of them moving to be more comfortable until suddenly Will is fully in his lap with his arms hanging over his shoulders. He isn't sure how long they sit there for, like they're the only ones that exist within the world around them. Even if it's the first time he's felt this way, Strohl knows he'll never tire of the feeling, the warmth, that comes with it.
Eventually, they separate, and Will rests his forehead against Strohl's. The sound of their breathing intertwines so deeply that they're in sync— though he supposes that's nothing new for them.
"What does this mean?" Strohl whispers, hating to be the one to break the silence. "For us?"
"Anything. Anything you want it to mean," Will replies effortlessly. "I love you too, Strohl. I want— I want to see this through with you. Especially you."
"Of course." Strohl finds Will's hand and intertwines their fingers. "I will always be by your side, Will. I swear my life on it."
"It's a promise."
How could Strohl fail so spectacularly at keeping his vow?
He feels miserable on the way to the Eldan Sanctum and even worse when Will barely gives a half-hearted reply to his apology. Not that he can blame Will for that, really. Undergoing a horrifying transformation in front of thousands of people along with the knowledge that he could be turned into such a monster in the first place must have been nothing short of traumatizing.
No, he's not upset with Will. He's not sure he ever could be. Any and all animosity is directed purely at himself for his reaction when Will was forced to transform. All he had managed to do was yell at Louis— essentially, he had been utterly useless.
On top of that, their time at the Eldan Sanctum had been nothing short of a violent, emotional pendulum. The initial devastation of the group when finding out the prince had fallen despite their efforts had almost been too much to bear, even more so knowing that Will had just lost his childhood friend. They had followed him down to see the prince in silence, collectively unsure of whether to grieve themselves or to comfort their captain.
And then, a miracle. The prince wasn't truly dead, but instead an empty vessel— one that Will is meant to fill. It was hard to believe, not because Will didn't seem princely enough, but because the thought of someone's will being so strong they created another entity was almost… Fantastical. The fantasy of Will's novel had nothing on the reality of their situations.
Standing now in the Hushed Honeybee inn, watching Will with vigilant eyes, Strohl feels his inner turmoil continue to brew. Even if Will just so happened to be the prince, he was still Will, right? He certainly still felt like Will, albeit an exhausted version of him, but Hulkenberg's earlier insistence on the team addressing him by his title throws him for a loop. He isn't sure what the correct answer is, especially considering how he feels about his own position relative to Will.
At some point, Will breaks away from the others and heads up the stairs to rest up for the night. Strohl follows after him, not bothering with any subtleties — if anyone notices, they know better than to not point it out at this moment. He passes by Basilio and Heismay in the hallway, but Heismay only gives him a knowing look before heading down the stairs.
He knocks on the inn room door lightly. "Will?" he calls, quietly. "It's me."
"Come in."
Strohl pushes the door open and steps inside before closing it behind him. Will currently sits on a bed— his bed, the bed he always took when they stayed here all that time ago— looking completely worn down. He's been putting on a brave face since the beginning, Strohl knows, but it still hurts to see his lover so drained.
…Did he even have the right to call Will that right now?
He pushes away those thoughts and takes a seat on the other bed. "…How are—"
"Why are you sitting over there?" Will asks, effectively cutting him off. He sounds a little angry, and almost wounded, but mostly tired. "You can still sit next to me, you know."
The statement surprises him, but he isn't going to take the offer for granted. Strohl stands and quickly sits next to Will instead. Will moves just enough for them to sit with their knees touching, and Strohl is grateful for them to be able to still have close proximity like this. He isn't sure what he'd do without it.
"How are you feeling?" Strohl tries again.
"Tired, mostly," Will answers, staring down at the floor. "Today's been… Stressful."
"I can only imagine," is all Strohl can find it in him to say.
Will turns his head to look up at Strohl, a frown crossing his face. "What about you?"
"Me? You don't have to worry—"
"Not this again," Will groans, nudging him with his shoulder. "Something's bothering you. It's all over your face."
Is he that much of an open book, or is it Will's ever-perceptive nature? He supposes it doesn't really matter.
"I…" Strohl sighs. "I don't want to burden you with my thoughts after the day you've had."
"I'm asking you to," Will insists. He grabs onto the cuff of Strohl's shirt sleeve, gently tugging. "Talk to me like you normally do."
The phrasing of his request— more like demand, in a way— stands out to Strohl, but he opts to leave it be for the moment.
"…I suppose I'm still upset with myself," he mutters. "With how I reacted when Louis did that to you."
"I told you it was behind us," Will says, intertwining their fingers. "And I wasn't… I didn't blame you for being upset. I know what you lost because of humans."
"It isn't even that, really," Strohl scrubs at his face with his free hand. He's barely spoken and he's already getting far too emotional. "Well, it is, but… It's not about the 'turning into a human part'. It's the fact that I thought I lost you. Like I've lost everything and everyone else I've ever loved." Will's stunned expression is visible in the corner of his eye, but it's quickly blurred by the formation of tears. "I couldn't handle that. Not again."
"Strohl…"
"And then the sanctum…" he lets out a shuddered exhale, reliving the memories of the past hours. "…I thought it happened again. I was so worried you became someone else, some stranger that vaguely looked like you." A feels a tear trickle down his face, the thought serving to upset him further. "And through it all I've been helpless. I couldn't protect you from Louis, and I wouldn't have been able to save 'you' had you been lost in your reunion with your true self. I would have never forgiven myself."
His head aches from how disordered his mind feels. "I'm sorry," he apologizes, though he's not entirely sure what for.
"You don't have to apologize," Will answers, bringing a hand up to Strohl's face to wipe the stray tear away. "But you didn't lose me. I'm right here."
Strohl reaches up and covers Will's hand with his. The warmth against his cheek proves that Will truly is still with him, and he feels the tension drain from his body ever-so-slightly.
"I'm glad that…" Will pauses. "…You're not treating me any different."
"…What do you mean?"
Will furrows his brow. "The others seem… Unsure of how to act," he says. "Since I'm actually the prince, I guess they suddenly feel more distant. Like you did when you first came in."
Ah. That would explain his strangely-worded ask.
"I don't want them to treat me like that," Will continues. "We're friends first, before any titles."
"And I think you should tell them that," Strohl retorts. "Everything happened so suddenly that I'm inclined to believe that they simply wanted to give you some space."
"I guess…"
"It's a discussion we can have tomorrow." Strohl gently runs a hand through Will's hair, pushing the silver-white locks behind his ear. "I have no doubt everyone will understand. The only one who may be otherwise stubborn about it is Hulkenberg."
His half-joke receives a weak chuckle from Will. "You're right. I don't think Hulkenberg would give it up no matter how many times I asked. It's worth a try, though."
They sit together in peace for a beat before Will adds: "Thank you."
"For?"
"Everything," he clarifies. "For coming to check on me. For still being on this journey. I… Don't think I would've made it this far without you."
Strohl's heart swells, and all his previous doubts fade into the back of his mind. "I will see this journey through with you and forever beyond… If you'll have me."
Will smiles at him, making Strohl realize just how much he missed it. "Of course I will. You're stuck with me now."
"I wouldn't have it any other way," Strohl chuckles. He leans down and places a gentle kiss on Will's forehead. "There's not a single place else I'd rather be."
"Then…" Will looks up at him through his eyelashes. "…Would you stay with me tonight?"
He thinks he understands what Will is asking him, but decides to tease him instead: "Aren't we already staying in the same room?"
Will pouts at him, and it's so adorably ridiculous that Strohl can't help but burst into laughter. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Yes, of course. Of course I'll stay here."
With a 'hmph' that makes way for a quiet laugh of his own, Will slides himself across the bed and lays down while Strohl steals the pillow from his usual bed and sets it next to Will's before laying down himself. Will wastes no time in wrapping his arms around Strohl's midsection, clinging to him tightly like he fears Strohl might leave. Strohl only wraps his arm around Will's shoulders in a quiet promise that he truly isn't going anywhere.
"Good night, Strohl."
"Rest well."
Strohl falls asleep, lulled by the warmth of Will's body heat.
It's remarkable that over a year has passed since their journey ended.
Strohl means that in the most positive way, of course. His fellow partisans and the king have made significant progress in making the changes they've wanted to see in the country, but there is always plenty more work to be done for them to achieve their dreams of unity among the nation.
Work is the last thing on Strohl's mind, currently. Rays of light spilling into the king's bedroom gently rouses him from his sleep, and he doesn't fight his eyes opening to the new day. It seems to be fairly early by the sky's indication, but that isn't the first thing he sees. Instead, the king's face comes into view, propped up on his hand with a smile even more gentle than the early daylight.
"Good morning," Will greets. His voice is clear, as if he's been awake for awhile now.
"Good morning yourself," Strohl responds, failing to fight back a yawn. "How long have you been awake?"
"Not too long. I don't usually wake up before you, though, so I decided to take advantage."
"…To watch me sleep?"
"You're very handsome when you sleep," Will says with far too much seriousness. "You can't be this surprised. I thought I was 'your kind of strange'?"
Even this far into their relationship, Will manages to find new ways to embarrass him. One would think he would have gotten use to his antics by now, but Will is still ever unpredictable in certain aspects. Strohl lets out a groan of embarrassment and, in some form of self-defense, reaches over to pull Will into his chest.
"Strohl!"
"What? It's too early to start our duties," he excuses, noting that Will puts up absolutely no resistance to his embrace. "And far too early for your excessive flattery."
"I don't think it's excessive at all," he can hear Will's mope without needing to see his face. "It's just the truth."
Strohl sighs in fake exasperation as he lets go of the other man, who pulls away just enough to see his face. "And people say I'm too honest."
"You are," Will agrees, "But that's why I love you."
He can't win. He lost the battle the moment he fell for Will, and it's a loss he takes with great pride.
"…I can't believe we made it this far," he mumbles. "Sometimes it all feels like a dream."
"Yeah. I understand." Will nods, now a bit more serious. "We've accomplished so much in such little time."
"That is impressive, but not surprising, given the strength of your rule," Strohl says. "But… The fact that you won in the first place sticks with me. I don't think I'll forget that battle for as long as I'll live."
Will hums. "Neither will I. But, despite it all, the only thing I regret is that not everyone could see what we've built." He reaches under the covers to hold Strohl's hand in his own. "And that was our win, you know. All of us, for the same ideal."
"Of course."
It's the first time in his life that Strohl doesn't find himself thinking about the what-ifs. His work as General only has him looking towards the future, after all, and he's grateful that no matter the tribulations they face, they'll find themselves in a gradually bettering world each and every day. Between that fact and with his own bright future laying in front of him, he believes in only the absolute best possible outcome— for everyone.
"Maybe we should get up, now," Will calls to him. "I don't want Hulkenberg bursting in here because we woke up late again."
"Ugh, don't remind me," Strohl groans, sitting himself up. "I don't think I'll ever have a more humiliating day in my life."
Will laughs— which Strohl takes offense to, because he should have also been embarrassed— but the sound is sweet and beautiful in ways he wish he would never be able to describe to another.
As he joins Will in his laughter, he knows he's finally found the person he wants to be; and, perhaps, the person he's already become.