The Gifts We Share [A Medieval AU]

Chapter Twelve - Hurts From the Past

Mark stands for a moment longer, watching the closed door and feeling incredibly lost. King Seán glances at him before sitting back down, moving his crown in order to run his fingers through his hair.

"Sit down, Mark," he orders. When the farmer doesn't move, the royal rolls his eyes and uses a tendril of magic to pull him down. Mark blinks a few times, but soon returns to his melancholy expression. The king sighs. "Your mother will be alright."

Mark shrugs a bit, glancing at the man in front of him. He seems distant, his blue eyes focused on the window. The farmer watches him, his eyebrows furrowing. The longer he studies King Seán's face, the more the expressionless exterior melts away. He realizes, with a start, that the thing he mistook for a lack of emotion is actually something resembling loneliness.

King Seán averts his eyes from the window, instead placing his attention on Mark. He sighs heavily. "Is it okay if we just talk instead of me teaching you magic for today?"

It's unexpected, but Mark finds that he doesn't object. "Sure. What do you want to talk about?"

"What's it like?"

The farmer frowns. "What?"

"Being carefree. Still having people around who really care about you. What is that like?"

"Uh, good, I guess?" The question bothers Mark, mostly because of its source. King Seán has always come off as a stoic, proud man who could hide emotions unlike anyone Mark has ever known. Now, he appears... tired. Lonely. Sad.

"Must be nice." King Seán shuts his eyes momentarily, a long sigh escaping his lips. "I can barely remember what it's like."

Mark observes the king, taking in all aspects of him. The longer he looks, the more amazed he is that King Seán was able to hide all of it from everyone. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't know," he replies.

"What happened, your majesty? It's obviously something, because you wouldn't ask if it was nothing."

King Seán watches Mark, his blue eyes piercing. "You are more intuitive than you give yourself credit for."

The farmer smirks lightly, but isn't prepared to drop the subject. "So, what happened?

"In every generation, a child is born with a mark somewhere on their body, like a tattoo. It signifies which sibling is best fit for role of king or queen. Others can be ruler, but it's always best if the person with the mark is in power. Anyway, my grandfather had the mark, my mother had the mark, and then I, out of my siblings and I, was born with the mark." He takes a deep breath, his eyes growing distant. "My siblings went off to conquer other lands; make their way in the world. I was fine with taking my mother's place as soon as I came of age, and they were fine with me, their youngest brother, being in power. But going abroad as a member of royalty is dangerous, and one by one, we were sent letters that my brothers and sisters had perished in battle, succumbed to the plagues that swept foreign lands, etcetera. My parents eventually passed away as well, leaving me. I sat here helplessly, doing menial tasks and settling squabbles between peasants, while my siblings died before they could get home. And when my parents died, I could do nothing."

Mark exhales heavily. "That's a lot."

King Seán nods, resting his head on his hand. "I have magical powers, and I could do nothing to save my parents."

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you."

Mark watches the royal, all previous thoughts taking the back seat to King Seán's story. He doesn't fully understand the king and all his ways, but this helps him understand why he hides his emotions and has a cold way about him. You can't break down if you're a king. You have to stay strong because you're the face of an entire kingdom.

"You told me this because there's no way you can hold it back anymore. You have servants and guards, but nobody who really understands," Mark says softly.

King Seán glances at the American. "As I said earlier, you are more intuitive than you give yourself credit for."

Mark smiles lightly. "Your majesty, if you need to talk, I am all ears."

To the farmer's gratification, King Seán smiles a little in return. "That's good to know."

He sighs heavily, leaning back in his chair and shutting his eyes. Mark forces himself to stay sitting, unsure of what to do but knowing that he wants to help in some way.

"You can go back to your room if you want," the royal says, opening his eyes for a moment. "If you want to go outside, you do not need an escort."

"Wait, really?" Mark splutters. "Why? I tried to escape yesterday."

King Seán gives him a stern glare. "Yes, and if you try again, I will enforce an escort. Be wise with your privileges, Mark. I am giving you a small amount of trust."

"Thank you, your majesty."

"Call me Seán, alright?"

"Okay."

King Seán nods and closes his eyes again, sighing heavily. Mark stands in order to go back to his room, but upon glancing at the king, moves instead to the chest under his window. On top of it lies a thick quilt, which the farmer picks up and throws on top of the royal.

"You look tired. Get some sleep," Mark says when King Seán's eyes fly open. The royal nods a little and shuts his eyes once again, his breaths becoming even as the American heads back to his room.