The Gifts We Share [A Medieval AU]

Chapter Seven - Response

The days pass in a similar fashion. Mark spends his time reading the books he was provided until there's nothing left to read or staring out the window and watching the birds fly past. Flora drops by to deliver meals and offer assistance when the farmer needs it, but she never stays long. Mark finds himself desperately wanting a conversation or some sort of connection with another person.

The rain outside does little to improve Mark's deteriorating mood. The water blocks his view of the village and nature in general, as well as lower the temperature in the room significantly. He doesn't mind the sound, however. It helps a bit with the homesickness.

Mark sits by the fireplace, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a cup of coffee clutched in his hands. Flora mills about, preparing a bath for him. He had requested that she not bathe him, considering the fact that he's capable of doing it himself and unaccustomed to having someone else do everything for him, but he has no idea how to actually fill the baths in this place. The farmer glances over at her every once in a while, pulling the blanket tighter around himself.

"Flora, when do you think I'll be allowed to go home?" he asks.

The girl tenses at his words, avoiding eye contact as she continues to pour water into the tub. "I don't know, sir."

"Do you know why I'm not allowed to leave?"

"I am not classified to reveal that information. King Seán will inform you when he sees fit."

Mark huffs and turns back to the fire, the flames flickering in his eyes. "He hasn't seen me in a week. I doubt he will ever see it fit to tell me anything."

"Sir, his Majesty is a very busy man. He cannot dedicate all his time to one prisoner," Flora replies. "He will see you as soon as he is able." She finishes filling the bath and turns, heading towards the door. "Enjoy your bath, Mr. Fischbach. When you're done, just call."

He nods and watches the door close behind her, his heart sinking the moment he realizes he's alone again. When he first arrived at the castle, he got anxious every time he had to meet with the king. Now, it's the opposite. He would do pretty much anything anyone wanted if it meant he could get at least one step closer to freedom.

Mark stands and tosses the blanket onto his bed, discarding his clothing and sinking into the hot, soapy water with a contented sigh. If there's one thing he'll miss about the castle, besides the constant supply of food and comfortable bed, it's the baths that are actually hot.

He soaks until his fingers are wrinkled and the water is lukewarm. He immediately misses the warmth as he stands, and the towel he wraps around his waist is a poor replacement. As quickly as he can, he dries himself off and changes into fresh clothing that was warmed by the fireplace.

When Flora returns, Mark is sitting in his chair and watching the rain patter against the window. She stands in the entrance for a moment before approaching him, setting a letter down in his lap.

"This is from your mother, sir."

Mark's head snaps towards the paper, his eyes widening significantly as he gathers the letter in his hands. He notices that the envelope has been opened already, but he hardly cares. He just wants to know how his mother is. While Flora empties the tub, Mark unfolds the letter with shaking hands and starts to read.

Dear Mark,

Hearing from you has brought me more joy than I can even express. When the messenger came to my door I feared the worst, but hearing that you are alright is the best news I could have received.  I worried about your wellbeing and was only soothed when I got your letter.  Hopefully you can get more sleep now that you have heard back from me. 

The king sounds like a good man. I only know the things I have read about on the bulletin board in town, and I find that those fail to mention his accent or the colour of his hair. I can now picture him in my mind better, thanks to you, dear. I am glad he has been kind to you and that you have a good place to stay. It brings peace to your dear mother's heart.

The thoughts you expressed about your abilities have brought up memories that I try my hardest to repress. Your father and I never explained much about our past due to the complications that might arise from it, plus it was easier to stay hidden if you were unaware that you had anything to hide. With that said, I feel like this subject is not something to attempt to explain over a letter. You should be able to ask questions and come to understand our past. What I will tell you in this letter is that your ability to feel magic is okay. It is a trait that your father passed down to you and your brother, and King Seán is probably suspicious because it is an ability that potential enemies have. That is all I will explain in writing. If I explained it word for word, there is potential for someone to steal this letter and reveal its words.

In terms of my health, things have not been well. It is getting harder and harder for me to move around, and I have started coughing. The medicine helped, but it is not enough. Already, it is almost gone. Despite this, I forbid you to worry about me. Mark, you are old enough now to stop worrying about me and start your own life. If you are staying at the castle, enjoy it. Do not lose sleep over your elderly mother. I will find time to come and visit you, where I can explain everything. On top of that, I hope King Seán is able to help you harness your abilities, since your father is gone.

Sincerely,

Your Loving Mother

Mark reads over the words multiple times before folding the letter and pressing it against his chest. Finally, he has a few more pieces of the puzzle.