The Gifts We Share [A Medieval AU]

Chapter Thirty-Four - Of Royals and Robbers

The day is exactly as Mark anticipated; long and exhausting. He finds himself trailing Seán, his chest aching every time the king stops himself from showing his emotions. One by one, they bid the different monarchs farewell and watch as they depart.

Dan and Phil approach the door, travelling cloaks tied around their throats and boots thumping rhythmically against the ground. Mark feels a surge of jealousy when he sees their hands clenched together between them, smiles on the faces of both royals.

"This has been lovely," Dan says, glancing from Seán to Mark. He nudges Phil and grins. "However, I'm hoping that as soon as we get home, Phil will stop worrying about his plants."

"His plants?" Seán asks, raising an eyebrow.

"He filled our room with plants and doesn't trust the servants to water them," Dan replies.

Phil glances over, pouting lightly. "They are my plants and I don't like it when anyone else waters them!"

Dan chuckles, letting his partner's hand drop in order to pull him closer with an arm around the waist. Phil laughs and leans into him, looking back to Mark and Seán with sparkling blue eyes. Mark shoots the Irishman a side glance and wiggles his eyebrows, making Seán turn bright red and turn away.

"We hope to see you two sometime in the near future," Mark says, beaming.

"The same to you," Phil replies. "I hope you return to Rubellus soon. The group that conquered is doing terrible things, and it won't be long before we have a full war on our hands."

Mark, his eyes flickering with worry for a moment, nods and bids them farewell. Dan and Phil say their own goodbyes as well before hopping into their carriage and riding off.

"If only you were so affectionate," Mark muses, batting his eyelashes at Seán as soon as the two foreign royals are gone.

"You are utterly ridiculous," the king replies, his first smile of the day brightening his face. The farmer nearly cheers from the sheer joy that wells in his chest.

"Hey, if I ever get in a situation where I can't smile, you should grin like that for me," he comments with a teasing look.

"That is also ridiculous, Mr. Fischbach," Seán states. "How would that even happen?"

"I don't know. Maybe I get kidnapped by a tribe of savage cattle and they cut my lips off as sacrifice to the cow goddess? You never know, your majesty. There are crazy things out there."

The king chuckles incredulously. "How do you even come up with these things?"

Mark taps his temple with one hand and snakes the other around Seán's waist. "Imaginative mind."

Seán attempts to hide his giggle behind his hand, making Mark smile broadly. The king seems to relax a bit more, letting his eyes sparkle instead of hiding it behind a wall. He appears at ease as they bid goodbye to the rest of the royals before heading to his office, spending the rest of the day together. They talk, sharing subtle hand touches every once in a while, until the moon is rising steadily into the sky.

Seán glances to the window, his face falling when he sees the time. "I should probably head to bed soon. My advisors dislike it when I'm exhausted."

Mark tries not to show his disappointment on his countenance. "For a king who's in charge of everyone, you sure heed to others a lot."

"Yes, well... I guess I just miss having parents."

"I get that." Mark exhales heavily and stands, Seán following suit. "I guess this is goodnight."

The king nods and Mark steps forward, taking Seán's chin between his thumb and pointer finger. He presses a feather-soft kiss to the royal's lips and almost immediately feels his magic thudding through his veins with the beating of his heart.

"See you in the morning," Seán says, his voice a mere whisper.

"Goodnight."

With that, Mark heads out of the king's office and into the hallway. He's not tired at all, so he races up to his room and grabs his mother's journal. On his way back down, he nearly runs straight into Flora.

"I'm going for a walk in the garden before bed," the farmer says before she even has a chance to ask.

The servant nods and he continues on his way. He's always loved going to the garden at night due to the peacefulness of it all, and today is no different. Nobody walks down the paths or fills the space with chatter. It's quiet, the only sound being the gurgling of the nearby fountain. He strolls over and settles on the fountain's edge, moonlight illuminating his face as he pulls out his mother's journal.

Phil's words echo in his head. I hope you return to Rubellus soon. The group that conquered is doing terrible things, and it won't be long before we have a full war on our hands...

He grimaces and opens to the page he keeps returning to, reading the same line he reads every single day. "I pray that someday, my sons will return to their kingdom and reclaim what is rightfully theirs."

Mark sighs heavily, running his fingers through his hair. What is he supposed to do now that he has affections for Seán and aspirations to return to his kingdom? How is he supposed to decide?

His attention is diverted the moment he hears a snapping twig. His eyes flick back and forth, but upon realizing that he can't actually see anything, illuminates his hand with red magic. Even with the light he can't see anything, so he settles back onto the fountain edge.

A scuffling sounds behind him and before he can react, a hand is over his mouth. He lifts his arm to swing at his attacker, but the cool metal of a blade against his throat stops him in an instant.

"If you scream, this blade will end your life," a man says, his voice cold and quiet. Mark attempts to channel his magic, but the moment a swirl of red circles his hand, the blade is lowered from his throat and pressed into his chest. "If you use your magic, you will never see King Seán again."

Mark absorbs his power back into his skin and the man snickers. "He really has trained you well, pup."

"I am not a dog," Mark snarls.Oh God I'm getting kidnapped. The moment the realization hits, a wave of panic washes over him.

The sword is pressed harder against his chest at his comment and he grits his teeth, the pain like needles across his skin. The man drags him to his feet and leads him across the garden as quietly as possible, his grip strong and uncomfortable. Every time Mark struggles the blade is pressed deeper into his chest, so much so that blood eventually drips down the sword.

Mark's mind races, unanswered questions zipping through his mind at a rate that he's never experienced before. He sees the carriage at the edge of the castle grounds, sitting beside the unconscious bodies of the guards that protect the gates, and clenches his jaw.  The closer they get, the more fragments of a plan formulate in his frazzled mind.

They approach the carriage and before the man's two helpers can open the door, Mark yanks himself out of the man's grip and throws his fist at the nearest kidnapper. Blood gushes from his nose as he crumples, clutching his face. Mark, adrenaline pumping through his veins, turns to throw another punch but before he can, a sword slices across the already tender area of his chest and widens the gash in his shirt. Mark gasps, and a moment later the man that grabbed him clubs him over the head with the hilt of his sword.

Seán's words ring in his ears as he crumples, on the brink of unconsciousness.  "See you in the morning." 

Sorry, Seán.