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That's arresting. That stops the king briefly dead in his tracks. It's something that has to happen, from time to time, yes--all the knights sometimes have to go back to their seats of power.

It's just it doesn't sound like that.

"Oh? For how long?"

If it doesn't sound like that, it's likely because it isn't. Elliot's not able to meet Edgar's eyes-- and he could attribute that to the way they're standing, or the document he's glancing down at, but neither of them would be reasons Edgar would believe.

He knows him far too well, after all. Of course he'll notice the hesitance to look at him, the stiffness in his shoulders, the underlying hint of nerves in his voice when he finally speaks.

"I'm-- not certain." His hands tremble just a tad as he sets the document down, takes a deep breath and lets his eyes settle on Edgar's shoulder as he's wont to do when he wants to look at him but can't quite bear it, "But I feel it would be-- no small amount of time, my king."

And after all this time, Edgar knows now, surely, the difference between when the title is used out of love and when it is Elliot remembering his place. There's no question the latter is true now.

It's not right. He can't quite put his finger on what's wrong, but the entire sensation in the room isn't right. The tremble isn't right. The avoiding of eyes isn't right. The rather stiff use of his title isn't at all right.

His head shakes rather abruptly. He hands over the next treaty to be perused without any allowance for pause.

"I won't allow it."

If he's going to be treated like a distant king, shouldn't he act like one?

"Ed--" He cuts off the use of his given name with a firm biting down on his lip. He can't do that anymore. It shouldn't have ever been permitted, and now look what it had led to.

Accepting the treaty is a mechanical gesture. It and the king's response has his eyes dropping again.

"...Your Grace. Please. I would not ask if I did not think it necessary."

For half a second, he almost lights up again. For half a second, he's almost the sense Elliot's back.

But then it's gone again. It keeps his brow furrowed and his nose wrinkling unhappily.

"How is having you away from my side necessary?" It can never be. He couldn't conceive of it. "I need you here. What could possibly be so important as to take you away from court?"

"My King... Sire, when you first came to power, I swore to defend you and yours-- your honor, your kingdom, and your queen." His eyes finally meet his, pain-filled but determined, "My actions here have-- protected none of those things. Her Majesty is whispered to be unfaithful to you-- with me-- and there will be those who will judge your strength by whether or not you can-- control those closest to you. This-- sire, if these whispers are about, they will doubt that and doubt you and I made an oath, Your Grace. No matter what it cost me, I must think of your safety above all."

And it would cost him dearly, leaving like this. It's already costing him dearly, saying as much.

"I must leave, and it must be clear it is by your orders, else they will take advantage of your perceived weakness."

It's something that has to be considered. It's something that he's sometimes found himself lost in thought wondering about.

It's something that he's never been able to fully get behind. It's something that has his head shaking roughly now.

"What's their perception compared to the actual weakness I'd have without you by my side, Elliot?"

"My King, you have other-- far better men than me."

Perhaps not necessarily in fighting, though there are those who come very close. But certainly there are those not as stained with scandal and-- it still grates on his heart to think it, but surely it must be, if these are the consequences-- with sin.

"A-- a brief absence of mine, with them to fill the gap, would surely not be remiss if it-- brings back honour to you and the Queen."

But how brief, exactly, was brief?

"But it won't be a brief absence."

It catches his breath just slightly in his throat. It sends his vision just a little blurry for a second as his hand reaches for Elliot's arm to keep himself upright.

"If you want to leave for our-- honour, Elliot, then you-- can't come back."

And that's inconceivable.

It's a difficult truth he'd been trying to avoid. It's one he had hoped could be changed by saying his return was of the king's mercy. But hearing Edgar say it makes it that much more real. That much more impossible to avoid.

His hand clings tight to Edgar when the king reaches out.

"For your sake, my King--" And his voice cracks, then. His face melts from the careful politeness of a knight to the anguished one of a lover, "--Edgar, I would do that for the both of you, if it must be so."

The clinging helps and doesn't help. The sound of his own name properly in that broken tone of voice cracks his heart that much further.

"You would do it for the kingdom, Elliot, not for me."

Because it wasn't the man behind the throne who would be gaining anything at all. Just losing a sizable piece of his heart.

"I-- cannot do this without you."

"And if it weren't for the kingdom, you wouldn't have to."

But despite personal feelings otherwise, on a public level throne and man are inseparable. They both know that.

"Can we not-- have me leave for-- a year, or some months, and then have you bid me back as though it is out of your mercy? And then by then perhaps we'll-- have a better idea of how to do this without raising suspicion."

"How should I survive a year without you?"

He loved his wife. He loved his kingdom. But he also loved Elliot--also needed that strength to keep himself going.

"Please don't ask me to do this."

"A few months, then," he says, a note of desperation in his tone as he shifts around the table to reach properly for him.

"It'll be as though I'm on a quest. Please, Edgar. I don't want this and I know you don't, either, but-- it's-- killing me, to be the cause of this much slander."

It still chokes his breath to think about. It's a little easier once he's close enough to wrap himself properly in against Elliot again, cling tight to the place that still made sense.

"It will kill both of us if I have to send you away. Don't pretend it won't."

"I know it will."

He can't help the way his voice trembles as he presses his face against the king's shoulder, "But I can't let them talk about the two of you like this."

"What good is-- talk?"

It's a desperate gambit. It's all he has left at this point, face firm against the other man's neck and breath shaky in his own throat.

"Let them challenge my authority to my face-- with a sword."

"Edgar."

The distress in his voice is palpable.

"Do you really want it to come to that?"

It shouldn't be. This situation shouldn't be. They should both be able to step back and handle this as the court dictates they must.

But Edgar can't stop the words from biting out of himself. "Sooner than lose you."

"You won't lose me, if you do this."

Not for long, at least, and even then it's only in the physical sense. Emotionally they'll still be just as entangled.

"Please, just-- consider it?"

"What if I don't?" He should just let it be, but he can't. He can't stop himself from murmuring out the hurt in his heart. "What if I tell you you must stay? Will I-- still lose you?"

He can't help the quiet sigh that escapes his lips.

"If you refuse to let me go, my King," and this time the title is one spoken out of love, pained though they are, "I'll-- have to keep my distance more, in public. From the Queen more, yes, but-- also from you. At least where people can see."

But if he's to stay, then he can't not be pulled into spending time with them behind closed doors. He doesn't have that kind of willpower.

Which is the problem, really.

"Where people can see."

Not where people can't see. Not in moments like this, where they could be alone and breathe for being allowed to cling tight together.

"But you... would still be here."

"Yes, Edgar." Because how could he be anywhere else, if he was to be in the same place as him, "But-- people will still question, even if we're not seen together so often."

And he's so distressed by the thought. He genuinely feels as though he's being torn in two by the dilemma.

It takes a few moments breathing before he can formulate another thought. A few moments just pressing his forehead against Elliot's shoulder.

"...don't leave. Don't-- leave until I've had a chance to think."

"If that's what you want."

He can hold off on putting distance between them. He can halt his plans to return to his estate, for now.

It's terribly easy, after all, when everything else in him wants nothing more than to stay here and be able to press a kiss against the king's hair.

"I want you."

All he ever wanted in the world, really, could be reduced to two names.

"I know."

And there's hurt in his voice as he says it-- It's always hurt to love him, but it hasn't been this particular brand of pain since before he'd realized Edgar had felt exactly the same.

"And I love you."

And that's why all of this is happening, really.

"I love you." It's impossible not to respond in kind. It's impossible not to squeeze the knight tighter and breathe it out over and over. "I love you."

And if it's what put them in this mess, he still can't begin to regret it.

But Elliot can. Or, at least, Elliot can carry the heavy weight of guilt that feels so much like regret, sometimes.

"I'm-- so sorry, Edgar."

He had never wanted them to have to face this decision.

"Please don't be." He has to shift slightly to get his forehead against Elliot's, to get their eyes meeting properly. "Please don't-- think you've ever done-- anything but given me the greatest joy."

It's hard to meet his eyes. It's harder still to actually believe his words.

"A-all right."

He'll get to believing it more entirely someday, when there isn't so much strife surrounding their love.

"I love you," he repeats, lips pressing to the other man's cheek as he murmurs. "Whatever hurts we've brought each other, Elliot, loving you more than outweighs."

The reassurance helps in getting him to smile slightly again. He returns the kiss to his cheek easily enough.

"And the same is true for me, my wonderful king."

He doesn't deserve him. He counts every day he's allowed to love him among his blessings.