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Summary
“Do you swear yourself to me, Sir Strohl?”
Strohl exhales, hot and heavy, mesmerized by the intensity in their eyes locked. The man finds himself at his knee once again, toe curled to keep him positioned right. He doesn’t realize the desperation edged in his tone as he speaks. “I do. I’ve sworn to you since the day I met you.”
Will’s lips curl into a smile, one devoid of the devil’s tint, one of gratitude and devotion.
“Then prove to me your fealty.”
Strohl fumbles Will's coronation and it's guilt (and desperation) that leads him seeking out the king late at night.