The Gifts We Share [A Medieval AU]

Chapter Fifteen - Lesson One

"We will start simple," King Seán states. "Today, I will get you to feel the magic and gain a better understanding of it."

"Sounds good to me," Mark replies.

"Good." The king gestures for the man to follow. "The space in here is not adequate for our needs, so we will head to the room I have in mind."

Mark nods and they head out into the hallway. Even when walking, the king exudes regality. He carries himself with confidence, his strides even and his posture perfect. Mark can't imagine what kind of training he received from a young age to be able to walk like that on command.

"Mark, do you have a question?" the king asks without glancing over.

The farmer immediately flushes red upon the realization that he was staring. He coughs. "Uh, I was just curious about how much training it took to get you to walk like that. It is incredibly sophisticated."

King Seán makes a scoffing noise, but his lips don't turn up into a smile. Mark internally curses. He wanted the king to smile so badly. "When you are raised as royalty, you are taught to walk like this in public spaces. For the family image and all," he explains.

"How old are you, anyway?" Mark asks. "It's okay if you prefer not to answer."

A beat of silence passes before the royal speaks again. "26."

The farmer nearly chokes. "Seriously?! I'm 27!"

"Just because you are older than me does not mean you have seniority over me, Fischbach," King Seán replies, straight faced as always. However, his eyes twinkle for a moment, and Mark feels a surge of victory wash over him.

The royal pushes open a set of doors and they enter a nearly empty room, furnished with only a fireplace, two chairs against the far wall, a coat hanger, and a rug.

Mark glances around, narrowing his eyes slightly. "Why is this room here?"

"It is simply a quiet space. I come up here sometimes because the guards and servants never think to check for me here," King Seán replies. He kneels down by the fireplace and stacks some logs into it before setting it ablaze with the flint and steel on the mantle. As the flames begin to swallow the wood, he straightens up and unclips his cloak. Mark watches as he hangs it up on the coat rack and pushes up his sleeves, revealing more pale skin.

"Stand across from me, Mark," he orders, gesturing with his hand. The farmer obeys and stands where he orders, pushing up his own sleeves in the process. The king nods in approval before taking a deep breath.

"I've never seen you look so casual, your majesty," Mark says in a teasing manner as he refers to the simple shirt, vest, trousers, and boots the king wears.

He rolls his eyes. "It's Seán."

The American grins at the subtle annoyance in his voice. "I know."

King Seán sighs. "Focus, Mark."

The farmer nods, serious this time, and the king speaks again. "Do you feel that energy?" he asks, taking a step towards Mark. Sure enough, the hum grows a bit more intense.

"Yes," the farmer replies, shutting his eyes momentarily as he allows the feeling of magic to wash over him.

"Magic loves connection. When two people with abilities like ours approach each other, the magic seeks a link," King Seán explains. He steps closer. "The feeling is more intense depending on who you are with. With family, you are unable to feel the connection because it has already been established and strengthened. It is rare for anyone to be able to feel their family member's magic. On the other hand, when the person is new to your life, the bond is new and frail and untrusting."

"So, theoretically, if we were to spend a lot of time together, we would stop feeling the connection?" Mark asks.

King Seán nods. "But, since we haven't known each other very long, the link is not strong." He takes several steps towards Mark, leaning in so that their faces are mere centimetres apart. The energy increases to a point where the farmer feels almost dizzy from the intensity. "With practice, our magic will create a bond and we will stop feeling it."

"What can I actually do with my magic?" Mark asks, attempting to focus on anything other than the close proximity he has with the king and the waves of power that rattle his bones.

"Anything, really," King Seán replies, stepping back from the farmer. "Your magic is your friend. With a strong enough emotional connection, you have very few limitations." He lifts his hand and gestures to his hair. "You mentioned in one of my letters that you thought it was odd that my hair was green. That's magic too."

He takes his crown off and sets it down before running his fingers through his hair. As he does, the green disappears and is replaced by a chestnut brown. The slightest of smiles graces his face at Mark's shocked expression, making the farmer's heart pound.

The royal ruffles the soft tendrils of hair again and the green returns. "That was one of the first tricks I learned. I was kind of a brat when I was young, and I thought it would bug my mum if I turned my hair green."

Mark nods, awestruck. He was the rebel of his family? It seems impossible due to the emotionless way he carries himself now. "Can I do that?"

King Seán returns his crown to his head and nods. "Yes, but after you actually learn how to harness your magic. I assume you attempted to use it after our first lesson, yes?"

Mark nods sheepishly. "Nothing happened."

"Let me guess... You focused on the feeling of magic running through your veins and up your arms." Upon observing the farmer's guilty look, the king nods. "Amateur mistake. Instead of focusing on your veins, feel the same feeling in your heart and mind. It could make you a little dizzy, but that's part of the learning process."

Mark nods once and shuts his eyes, following the royal's instructions. His magic is warm, friendly, familiar... It looks like fire and glitter and light. It circulates through him like blood, travelling to his heart and mind. He focuses on the feeling of magic, warmth, love, and excitement, and opens his eyes.

Fire-like magic swirls around him, glittering and bright. Everywhere it touches, it warms his skin and makes his chest swell. He laughs from excitement when he sees it, unable to contain the joy that fills him to the brim. He looks to King Seán, and finds that the king is watching the show with the corner of his mouth turned up into a smile. Instantly, Mark's heart leaps into his throat and the magic responds, glowing brighter and warming up significantly. The reaction sends a jolt of panic through the farmer and he squeaks, causing the magic to return to his body and him to stumble back. Sure enough, his head spins from the exertion and he has to steady himself against the fireplace.

Then, laughter. Real, honest to goodness laughter like music and joyful birdsong. Mark stares at the king in shock as Seán covers his mouth, his eyes twinkling.

"You had it for a second," he says. "And then you failed and it was hilarious."

The farmer blinks a few times, his mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out. He made the king laugh. Sure, it was because of his own idiocy, but it was still a laugh!

Mark can't help but grin.