The Gifts We Share [A Medieval AU]

Chapter Thirty-Five - Gone

Seán moves down the hallway towards his office, stifling a yawn and moving his hair out of his eyes absentmindedly. The morning sun shines through the window, and he can faintly hear the sound of birdsong outside. Despite all the potential distractions, his mind continuously wanders back to Mark and the gentle kiss he gave him last night, leading the king to mentally kick himself. Why does he have to be so hesitant and nervous with Mark all the time!?

He settles behind his desk and starts working, but his minute amount of focus is soon broken by Flora, who charges into his office out of breath and panicked. Gasping, she points towards the door.

"Your majesty, it's Mark. He's gone!"

Seán's blood runs cold. "No. There's no way."

"I checked!"

Doing his best to hide the fear on his face, the king gets to his feet and motions for the girl to follow him. "Do you have any proof? Are you absolutely sure he's not just... somewhere else in the castle?"

"I found this on the bench in the garden. He always keeps it under his pillow or carefully protected," Flora replies, pulling a leather journal from her apron pocket. "He told me last night that he was just going for a nighttime stroll, and he wasn't in his room this morning."

The king nods a few times, trying desperately to regulate his breathing. Maybe he's not gone. Maybe he just forgot the book on the bench!

Another wave of dread floods him when two guards, who had been stationed at the gate the night before, come stumbling up to him.

"Your highness, there was an attack last night. Every guard that was on duty was knocked unconscious by a group of unidentified men," one gasps.

The other nods, panicked. "They have Prince Mark. I saw them knock him out before I was knocked out myself."

Seán tries to stay calm, placing a hand on his forehead. "Do we have any idea where they're heading?"

"One of them yelled something about getting to Nuxvar for a rendezvous," one guard says. "It's a small town about a day and a half from here, known for being a hub of illegal activity and the black market."

Seán nods and exhales heavily. "I need fifty soldiers on horseback ready to go in the next hour. I will be leading the charge. Have my horse ready when I get to the gates."

"Are you sure, my king?" Flora asks. "They can go, but we need you here."

"I am positive." Seán takes the journal from her hands, his heart pounding. Oh god, oh god, oh god, Mark... "I must be there when we find him."

The maid nods, her eyes filled with worry. "Shall I help you get ready?"

"No, I can do it myself. Thank you, though." King Seán turns on his heel, trying not to race to his bedroom. "Get the cooks to prepare enough provisions for three days. We can get more if we need them."

"Yes sir." With that, Flora hurries away.

Seán tries his hardest not to run through the frenzied halls of the castle, his heart pounding in his ears. Are they going to kill him? Who would do something like this? News of the attack spreads fast, and soon everyone in the castle is panicking. It doesn't help Seán's mental state in the slightest.

He bursts through the door of his bedroom and starts donning the appropriate gear, trying his hardest not to start sobbing. Mark can't be gone. Whoever took him wouldn't kill him, would they? He can't handle another death of someone he... He stops his train of thought and dons his emotionless mask as he ties a travelling cloak around his throat. He can't think that way. Mark will live. Won't he?

With his elaborate clothing switched out for more practical ones, he rushes down the stairs and towards the front doors. A good majority of his knights are already at the gates, and the stragglers are joining the group. Seán strides to the front of the charge and leaps onto his horse, and a few minutes later they're galloping through the front gates and into the morning air.

——

Mark opens his eyes and immediately winces, his chest stinging and his head throbbing. The space around him is shrouded in darkness, making it nearly impossible to see anything. A small, barred opening is cut into the door, allowing Mark to see a small square of cloudless sky only. He tries to move, but finds that his feet and hands are both shackled.

"Oi, lads, he's awake!"

Mark's head snaps in the direction of the voice, and when his eyes adjust to the darkness he can make out the face of the man who initially kidnapped him. He immediately scowls.

"King Seán's army will find you," he utters, his voice scratchier and weaker than he had anticipated. "You will not get away with this."

"Ooh, cliché fighting words. I'm real scared, princess." The man cackles at his own joke, making Mark's glare harden even more. "We've already got the advantage."

He stands up from his seat and crouches next to Mark, who still can't move due to the chains that hold him in place. He takes a handful of the prince's hair in his hand roughly, forcing Mark to look at him.

"I've read up on royal magic, pup. I know what to do to make sure you can't use it against us."

Before Mark can reply with a sarcastic, backhanded comment, the man straightens up and lands a swift kick to his wounded chest. A strangled yell escapes the prince's throat, the pain flaring up and his ability to breathe diminishing significantly. Tears spring to his eyes as coughs ravage his body, which only makes the stinging, burning sensation worse.

"Aww, is the little pup crying?" the man mocks. He nails him in the stomach and Mark's coughs get worse, mixing with harsh sobs. He smirks and returns to his seat, watching as the prince curls himself up in a desperate attempt to protect himself. His breaths come out in wheezes as he lies there on the cold floor, willing himself not to pass out.

"It was so easy to find you. Seriously, lighting the Rubellus candle at the ball? How much more obvious could you get?" the man asks with a sneer.

Mark doesn't respond, trying to imagine nice things in his mind to distract him from his current hellish reality.  Is Seán realizing he's gone right now?  Is he panicking, or simply sending out other men to find him?  Mark finds the slightest amount of solace in picturing the king's brilliant blue eyes, which look the prettiest when they sparkle with laughter. 

His momentary peace is shattered the moment the man approaches him again. 

The ride feels like forever. Every time Mark feels okay enough to attempt to channel his magic, the man in the corner stands up and beats him again. When the physical abuse isn't enough, he gets off his seat and crouches next to Mark, a maniacal smirk on his face as he describes in gritty detail how he's going to kill Seán. He toys with the prince's emotions, doing everything in his power to hurt him mentally, physically, and emotionally until Mark is begging him to stop.

When the carriage comes to a halt, Mark nearly starts sobbing again. The man in the corner stands and unchains his ankles before dragging him to his feet, grimacing when he has to support the bleeding, weakened prince out.

"The other group got caught up," one of the other men grumbles. "Hopefully they will arrive before King Seán's men do."

"Let's just get him into the dungeon, yeah?" the man holding Mark snaps.

Mark takes in his surroundings as he stumbles along. The village is dark and filled with traders, whose eyes only linger on the prince's beaten form for a moment before turning away. A small jail sits on the outskirts of the town, but Mark figures that there are so many illegal things happening in this ragtag town that it's useless to try and house everyone.

The three men enter the dungeon and move towards the furthest cell from the door, where one of their comrades stands waiting. The man guiding Mark shoves the prince to the ground, earning a pained groan.

"I've had my fun, lads. You can go at him, but don't kill him," the initial kidnapper orders.

Mark shuts his eyes as three men approach him, a gleam in their cold eyes.