closed starter for @princemordecai location: eterna note: uwu
If someone were to tell Agron years ago that he would be here with Leander, he probably would've told them to fuck off. But here they were. They had fought together, trained together. Now they were bonded by this whole thrall thing and he was second-guessing everything. Not that that really had anything to do with Leander personally though. It had everything to do with the fact that he didn't want it to look like he was fucking his way to the top. Agron didn't really care what people thought about him when it came to most things, but he did when it came to something like that. After he had worked his ass off to even become a Blademaster, it had felt like he took several steps backwards when Valerius had turned him. After that whole debacle, it felt like he was somewhat moving in the right direction. He was a Queensguard. He mattered to these people. He mattered to the Lysaran throne. Nothing could take that away from him. That didn't mean the thoughts weren't still there though.
That was what brought him to his current position at the foot of this bed that he felt he wasn't supposed to be in. The hilt of his sword was gripped within his hand, the heron mark the only thing he was focused on. This was the one thing that couldn't be taken from him. He wouldn't let it. His head turned slightly towards where Leander was as he cleared his throat, but his gaze was still on the heron mark. "Have I ever told you how I got this?"