“I made you a knight, for you are strong and sure and loyal, and not a day goes by that I do not regret my choice,” the king said, voice low so as not to carry. His lover smelled of oiled leather and polished steel, the barest hint of linseed oil lingering in his beard.
“Say the word and I shall discard my sword, Sire,” the knight breathed, clutching the king’s forearm and tugging him closer, wanting just one more kiss before his journey began.
The king scoffed, nipped at his lower lip. “And deal with you sulking day and night, sitting in a tower window like a prince held captive? I miss you when you are gone, but that only makes your return sweeter, and I dare not clip my handsome robin’s wings.”
“Flattery to ensure my return?” The knight laughed, his chuckle sparkling down the corridor.
“Does it not work?” The king replied, grinning through their kiss.
“And will you romance me still when my good looks are withered and gone?”
“It is easier to ask me when I will die, because I shall never stop.” The king pulled back slightly, catching the knight’s chin and turning him to meet his gaze. “For as long as you live, I shall wait for your return. Even if my flattery falls short and you swear fealty to another, I will watch the horizon for the glint of your golden hair, the sparkle of your smile.”
“And should I fall?” The knight shook his head ruefully. “Even in death, my heart would break to think you alone and unhappy. Wait not for me, if such happens.”
The king smiled, pulling one of the two golden rings off his finger. He pressed it into the knight’s palm, then raised that closed hand and pressed his lips to his lover’s knuckles. “Once you leave the city’s walls, stop by the Weaver’s Hut and show her this ring. She’ll laugh, but she’ll know what must be done. Ah—!” The king pressed a finger to the knight’s lips. “No questions; no time. You’ll lose your daylight.”
“Are you binding me to you, you wonderful sap?” The knight asked anyway, with no real venom in his tone but a flighty wariness that tugged at the king’s heartstrings.
“Never without your consent, my love,” the king said. “She will merely extend the blessing of my protection over you as well. Will you accept, so as to waylay my worried soul?”
The knight took the king’s face in his hands, gently rested their foreheads together. How lucky he was! So easy was it for the king to strip him of his rank and title, keep him close and contained, but no. He had found a lord and lover that respected him and honored him, and the knight’s heart already ached with the loneliness of their parting despite the warmth of his king so close to him now.
“With your blessing I will venture forth, and with your blessing I will return.”
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