The Gifts We Share [A Medieval AU]

Chapter Twenty-One - Lesson Two

Mark is numb. That's the easiest way to put it. He thought that after the deaths of both his father and brother that he'd be able to cope better, but that is not the case. After a day and a half spent staring out of the rain-splattered window in his bedroom, he's had enough. If he doesn't do something to take his mind off of his deceased family, he's going to go crazy.

With a heavy sigh, he pulls himself out of his chair and strolls down to the throne room. He figures that there will probably be visitors or villagers with Seán or in the halls, so he does his best to go unnoticed as he approaches the doors. Trying not to draw attention to himself, he slips inside and stands along the far wall.

King Seán maintains his empty gaze as he speaks with villager after villager, solving their big problems and their more petty issues. Sometimes he smiles, but it never reaches his eyes. When Mark enters, Seán's gaze flickers in his direction and for a second the emotionless exterior breaks away. He inclines his head before looking back to the villager in front of him, causing Mark's mouth to fall open just slightly. Every time he gets that look, it never ceases to shock him. The farmer's eyes never stray from the king as he goes through the rest of the people with ease, standing the moment the last person leaves. He glances at Mark and motions for him to follow before striding out through an alternative doorway.

"I am glad you showed up. The villagers were becoming a bore," Seán states the moment Mark closes the door behind them.

"I want to have a lesson," the farmer says, slightly distracted by the surge of power between him and the royal. "I... cannot sit in my room alone any longer."

The king nods, his cloak swishing behind him as he climbs the steps towards his hidden room. "I figured that was the reason. And..." He pauses as he opens the door and steps inside. He glances back at Mark, sympathy filling his blue eyes. "If you ever want to talk, I'm available."

Mark nods and distracts himself with the fireplace as Seán discards his cloak. The room begins to warm up as the farmer tosses pieces of wood onto the ever-growing flame, and he finds the warmth comforting.

"I do not want you to see me as your king when we have our lessons," the king says, causing Mark to stop stoking the fire for a moment.

He glances back to see Seán standing there, observing the crown in his hands with a frown. "What?"

"You heard me."

"But why?" Mark stands, discarding the poker and turning to face the royal. "You are the king. Why would you want me to regard you as anything other than that?"

"Because..." Seán sighs and crosses his arms. "You're grieving. I want you to talk to me if you need, and wearing this crown makes me feel unapproachable."

Mark stares at him, studying the king's every feature. "I will never figure you out."

Seán smiles a little and rolls up his sleeves. "Alright, today we are going to work on actually doing things with your magic."

The farmer rolls his eyes, but pushes up his own sleeves and focuses on his magic. The power between him and Seán pulses more as red magic starts swirling around his forearms, his chest warming up considerably.

"Good. Now, focus on the feeling in your heart and mind and give the magic a verbal command. Eventually you will be good enough to just think your command and have it happen, but for now verbal commands will work best," Seán explains. He takes his crown from the chair and sets it on the floor between them. "Start by lifting my crown."

Mark nods and watches the crown, feeling every ounce of magic flowing through his veins. He takes a deep breath. "Rise." He makes a motion with his hand, and the crown slowly lifts from the ground. His eyes widen as he watches it lift a little farther before shaking and nearly clattering back to the ground.

Seán catches it before it can fall with his own power, sending shockwaves through Mark the moment their magic touches. Seán's eyes widen a little, but otherwise he shows no reaction as he retrieves his crown. The farmer stumbles slightly, his head pounding.

"You might feel a little lightheaded," Seán states. "It never feels like a lot of work, but in reality you are exerting a lot of energy."

"No kidding," Mark mumbles, rubbing his temples. He takes a deep breath. "One more try."

"Alright." The royal holds out his crown. "Move my crown from my hand to your head."

Mark raises an eyebrow. "Wearing the king's crown is a crime punishable by death."

"Not for you. Just do it."

The farmer rolls his eyes, a slight smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he lifts his hand. "Come to me." His magic reaches out like an extension of his arm and raises the crown, sending it floating slowly through the air. He allows the headpiece to lower onto his head and settle on his hair before pulling his magic back into his skin, his head spinning even more.

"Wearing a crown suits you," Seán says, tilting his head to the side slightly. "You look dizzy.  You should take a seat."  He rolls his sleeves down.  "That will be enough for the day."

Mark feels his ears heat up as he obeys the king's orders. He drops into the chair and slouches low, paying little attention to Seán's crown, which is still perched on his head. The royal walks towards the fireplace, watching the flames flicker for a moment before taking the seat across from the farmer.

Mark glances at him before looking to the window, his thoughts wandering back to his mother. His mind always seems to go back to her if there isn't a distraction. He can see Seán watching him out of the corner of his eye, but he can't seem to focus on that. His heart clenches uncomfortably and without thinking, he curls up in the chair. He nearly scoffs at how ridiculous he must look to the king. He has a crown on his head and yet he's not a king. He's just an orphan.

"Mark..." Seán begins. He pauses, biting his lip. "I understand what it's like."

"I know," Mark murmurs. His eyes prick with tears and he quickly wipes them away. "I know."

"I am not going to tell you what everyone told me. We are in the same boat. My parents and my siblings are all gone, and if anyone is going to sympathize with you, it's me."

Mark looks over at him for a moment before turning back to the window. "After I tried to escape, we talked in your office and I told you that if you ever needed to talk, I would be there to listen. It seems now the roles have reversed."

Seán exhales. "It seems so."

"How long ago did you become an orphan?"

"About six months ago, after my mother died. My dad had passed away because of an illness a few months earlier, and then we received a letter that my last remaining sibling had perished in battle." The royal takes a deep breath. "She couldn't take the heartbreak, and it eventually killed her."

"I'm sorry," Mark whispers, looking over at him.

Seán nods, and the farmer feels his heart break as he watches a tear runs down the king's face.