The Gifts We Share [A Medieval AU]

Chapter Twenty-Four - Closer

A moment later, the king pulls away. The lack of warmth from the king is evident almost immediately, and the farmer subconsciously pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders. Mark takes a deep breath before coughing in an attempt to clear the emotion from his voice.

"You probably have to get back to the throne room," he says, his voice still tight.

Seán nods, his eyes flickering for a moment. "Yes, I suppose. You can stay here for as long as you want and just relax."

Mark nods gratefully and watches as the king starts moving towards the door, a certain hesitance in his steps. The farmer sighs heavily before speaking again.

"How do you deal with it? The grief, I mean."

Seán places his hand on the door handle, a deep sigh escaping his lips. He glances back at Mark for a moment before looking down at the floor. "Um, I think connections with people you care about helps." He steals another glance at the farmer. "For distractions and other... things like that."

Mark nods and the faintest of smiles graces the king's face. With that, he slips out of the room and closes the door behind him, his footsteps fading down the stairwell. The farmer sits in the silence, his mind frazzled and his heart confused.

More than anything, he doesn't want to be alone. Whenever he's alone, his thoughts wander to his deceased family and the overwhelming reality that he's an orphan. He wants Seán to stay and talk with him and help him block out the memories. It felt so good to get hugged because, for just a moment, the cloud of grief that seems to constantly follow him faded away. He buries his nose into the blanket once again, which smells like Seán, and shuts his eyes. This entire ordeal has been emotionally exhausting, and now all he feels like he can do is sleep.

With a deep sigh, Mark curls up in the chair and lets himself drift off. 

——

Seán strides back into the throne room, his cloak swishing out behind him. He effortlessly returns the emotionless look to his face as he moves past his advisors and guards and takes his seat in the throne.

"Is everything alright, your majesty?" one of the advisors asks.

"Yes, the matter was resolved," he replies. "Is there anything that I need to deal with currently?"

"Just a few peasants who have come in with an assortment of questions. Shall I let them in?"

"Please do."

The advisor nods and makes a motion to the guards. Seán watches them, crossing one leg over the other and leaning on his hand. His crown slips a little lower on his green hair, and although he attempts to adjust it, it just slips back down again. Giving up on his endeavours to fix his crown, he turns his attention to the small group of peasants that approach him. He tries to block out every other thought except them, but his mind finds a way of wandering back to Mark.

Seán can't help but see himself in the farmer, or rather, prince. The grieving process is so similar to what he went through, and the fact that they're both royals with magical powers connects them. However, there's also so many differences between them. When he's feeling okay, Mark is silly and friendly and makes plenty of inappropriate jokes for the simple pleasure of making the king laugh. He cares so much that it's practically infectious. Seán hasn't shown his emotions to anyone since his family started passing away, and then one guy comes along and changes everything. Seán hugged him because he wanted to. That hasn't happened in what feels like ages.

He snaps back to reality, focusing on the peasants in front of them. All of them have issues that he sees as petty, and he solves each of them easily. They thank him, they bow, and they leave, like so many people before them. Seán can't help but feel tired of the repetitiveness of it all.

"Is there anything else?" he asks, turning towards the advisor.

"There is a letter from Kings Daniel and Phillip of the Divum kingdom stating their intention to attend the Autumn Ball," the advisor states. "There is also a letter from Queen Marzia of Aequor asking about whether the ports will be open, as she is travelling here by Viking longboat."

"Send a letter to Kings Daniel and Phillip thanking them for their response, and tell Queen Marzia that we will open the ports for her ships and that we await her arrival with excitement," Seán replies. "Is that all?"

"That is all, your majesty."

"Good. I will be retiring to my private study, so simply ring the bell if there is an urgent message awaiting me."

The advisor nods and Seán stands, moving down from the throne and striding across the room with a certain regality in his step. He maintains his emotionless exterior as he walks, but inside he can't help but feel a stab of worry for Mark. Is he managing okay on his own? Did he have another meltdown that nobody could help him out of?

Feeling the anxiety rise in him, he struggles not to jog up to his private little room. He attempts to calm himself as he clasps the door handle, taking one deep breath before pushing open the door.

There, Mark sleeps soundly, curled up in a chair with his face half-covered by the blanket that surrounds him. Seán exhales, glad that the prince isn't sobbing like he thought he would be. The chair, however, does not look like a comfortable place to sleep, so the king uses his magic to extend the chair into a couch. Gently, he lays Mark down and places a pillow under his head. The prince stirs slightly, but altogether stays asleep.

Seán smiles lightly at Mark, who looks so peaceful in his slumber, before heading back down to his office. 

A/N: I'm going on a trip, so this will most likely be the last update for the next week.  I'm sorry about that.  I'll get right back on that update train when I come back!