"You won't resign," Jonathan says, clutching his royalness to him as close to him as ever he has before. "I won't allow it."
Wyldon is tired. "You don't have the authority, your Majesty."
Jon eyes the other man, his gaze lingering on the scar that mars his face. "No," the king eventually agrees. "I cannot force you to stay- however, I do believe that you will."
He would have been in the act of packing up his office if the king had not shown up. Wyldon could have been done with this job, with the palace. He could have been home with his wife and his youngest daughter, could see her grow, unlike her three sisters.
He could have, and he should.
"And why do you believe that, sire?" Wyldon picks up the stone figurine at the corner of his desk. Jonathan still stands, despite the empty chair. He is a king, and his presence is felt in the room. The other man can pretend to be unaffected, but he is affected by Jonathan's intense eyes and square-shouldered stance.
"You and I both know that you have reasons beyond duty that keep you at the palace," Jon says, staring directly at the training master.
"That is true," Wyldon says, for nothing is gained or lost with that admission.
Jonathan is steady. "Training Keladry of Mindelan will only have you bend, not break."
"That is also true," he admits, and he most certainly loses something in that admission. "But my reasons- they- they should not affect your judgment in any way, Majesty."
"It should not," Jonathan says lowly, "but it does."
"Well." Wyldon inclines his head, but he cannot think of anything to say.
"I have always admired you," the king says, "and I would think that might be reason enough."
It is more than enough, but Wyldon cites duty to the crown anyways.
Jonathan doesn't mind. He knows how the training master is.