Until things calmed down. Until circumstances changed. Until he knew his feelings didn't serve as a distraction to the people who needed them.
Will and Strohl would keep waiting, no matter how long it took.
(Warning for post-game spoilers.)
At times, Strohl questioned the practicality of such a massive palace. Yes, it served as the centerpiece of the kingdom, the brain to the veins that made up the roads, cities, and countries that stretched to every end of the landmass called home. It made room for the many organizations that ran the country to meet and live in, to keep this kingdom oiled and active from day to day. More than anything, the palace craved the room to breathe, for all its occupants to not be packed into a can that a smaller structure would enforce.
And yet.
These damned halls became his worst enemy whenever the prince went off on his little jaunts. Then, and only then, did Strohl allow himself to curse the inefficiency of such a complicated structure.
At first, Will stayed at the side of Hulkenberg, and in her absence, his. At first. Then a few months passed, and the fervor and uniqueness of the new king began to blend into the normality of the kingdom. The sun rose, the sky stayed blue, and the king saved the country with unknown magic and now managed an entire country with a gentle yet firm disposition.
The first time he slipped out, it was on Maria’s request. A group of homeless individuals took up residence near the Hushed Honeybee, and she’d asked him during a visit to the cathedral if he could help them—Hulkenberg insisted on delegating the matter of offering assistance to a couple guards, given the dangers of a sneak attack in such an alleyway ridden place.
So. Of course Will took that as an opportunity to sneak off by himself. Plainclothes donned, he reached out to and found the group of homeless Paripus, newly arrived to the city, jobs. They were woodworkers who ended up laid off in Brilehaven and decided to come to the capital for work, only to find the change they hoped for had not quite reached as far as they hoped.
No one minded that Will decided to bring them on to help replace the broken and sold furniture of the palace, but since that day, his wandering had become a scourge on the never ending pile of paperwork waiting to be juggled.
Not to mention, their security…
Strohl stopped at the door to the palace, fresh air drunk with each desperate breath until his mind cleared. Not here. Not anywhere—
Not in the palace, but perhaps…no, he already knew. It’d be a longer trip, but he’d hopefully make it before Will slipped away from him again.
“I trust you’ve made it a meal for two?”
After he slipped inside the Hushed Honeybee, right as the quiet period post-lunch rush came about, he spotted Will at a table, waving goodbye as Maria slipped away and back to the kitchen, presumably to catch up on a monstrous pile of dishes after the chaos of earlier. As if invited, Strohl stole a seat next to Will and greeted the young man—though to his annoyance, Will hid the shock of being discovered too well, and betrayed nothing but a smile at the other’s arrival.
“I didn’t plan for that…but if you don’t mind sharing, there’s always a place for you.” Will sat up and scooted over to make more room for Strohl, an act that elicited a sigh of annoyance from the general.
“If only we had the time for that,” Strohl bemoaned, “but you’ve got a lot to catch up on. You still haven’t looked at the incoming grievances from two days ago.”
“I know,” Will said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I don’t want to ignore the voices of the people. Still, sitting at a desk only gets you so far. If I stayed there day after day, I’d never see anyone—only read their discontent from a distance.”
“You could take Hulkenberg with you on your excursions,” Strohl added. “I understand the need to hear from your citizens face-to-face. Letters and forms will never substitute having a person to express your wishes to.”
Strohl leaned forward, gaze fixed on the table. “We just…we worry, that’s all.”
“…” Will pursed his lips, a thoughtful look on his face. For a moment, Strohl thought he got through to the young king.
“I understand—” Will began, to which Strohl felt relief, “—why Hulkenberg wants to know where I am, but you’ve got a lot of work on your desk, too. Is finding a runaway prince at the top of the list for the state army general?”
If Will intended to scold him for his skewed priorities, the intent muddled too much with the delivery. The lighthearted dip to his voice combined with the way he looked at Strohl made him realize that, yes, the question was quite serious. To Will, anyways.
“Because.” Strohl began, and ended. He cursed himself for his tied tongue and the odd thrum in his head before he forced more words out. “Because…if something were to happen to you, it’d put everything you worked for in jeopardy. If you went missing, or even died, the power vacuum left behind would be enough to fracture this country into thirds.”
“You’re very important—to this country.”
And to us. To me. Unsaid, irrelevant thoughts he chose not to voice. Not that he was too embarrassed or never said these kinds of things to Will before, far from it, but he’d said it so many times before that Strohl figured Will had heard enough of his praises for a lifetime.
…
No, not that. Strohl patched his feelings with rags and switches of excuses, but in truth, his head swam, his voice cracked, and his thoughts hid because of one central emotion the young man never dared to acknowledge.
He cared for Will. Cared so deeply, so strongly, that those feelings worked against each other, the desire to keep Will “on rails” fought against his dream of whispered honesty, of confession.
Of a life where the two of them lived in peace, lived in happiness.
Lived.
But.
But!
But Strohl stood as the general of the army. And with Will as the king, any sort of voiced feelings would only distract him in his time of tumult. So Strohl wouldn’t dwell on those thoughts, he wouldn’t voice them, all to make Will’s hope of a better future come true—whether there was a future for them or not.
Yet at Strohl’s answer, Will faltered. Strohl ignored it—but the twitch of the young king’s smile, the way he squeezed his eyes shut as if to push the same storm to the corners of his mind, almost as if he grappled with the same struggle. The same feelings? The same…
No.
None of that.
“Thanks,” Will said. Simple, safe. A word he could say to anyone, at anytime, no matter how he felt. “I ordered redgrass-roasted bidou earlier. Before we return, I’d like you to have some of it. Please?”
Strohl swallowed. Even the small smile set off the din in his head, yet he stepped into the silent eye and nodded in agreement.
“It’ll be my pleasure. It’s always been my favorite meal of hers.”
“It’s really good, isn’t it? Maybe one day we’ll learn to make it just as good as her.”
“I hope so. But the journey always leaves more of a memory than the destination—doesn’t it?”