Sworn to whom, I wonder. A lord, a comrade, or a...lover.

[Or all three, mayhap, but he daren't put those words in Haurchefant's mouth, not without hearing them first on his own. And quickly, as much to give him time to think about it as to forestall any sudden answers, Aymeric leans over and kisses him, tucking more firmly into his arms.]

Whichever it may be, what little strength I may possess is yours nevertheless.