The Gifts We Share [A Medieval AU]

Chapter Thirty-Nine - Ride Home

Seán pries his eyes open slowly, the sunlight streaming through the window and greeting his tired countenance.  He grits his teeth as he straightens up, his back aching from leaning against the bed.  His crown is on the verge of falling off his head, so he reaches up with his free hand and places it gently on the side table.  At some point during the night, Mark clenched his hand around the king's, and it remains there as he sleeps soundly.  His chest rises and falls steadily, his physical wounds looking better than they did the night before.

    Seán tries not to sob.  He couldn't protect Mark, and those men hurt him.  They were captured, yes, but that gives the king no satisfaction.  They broke Mark. His Mark. He wants them to pay, but he knows that right now, he doesn't have the energy.  He wants to stay with Mark and make sure that nobody else hurts him.  He should have relished in that one glorious morning where he woke up in Mark's arms.  He shouldn't have freaked out and worried about his royal reputation.  He should have let that last kiss linger instead of being so afraid.  The guilt and anger mixes in his gut, making him feel physically ill.

    A knock sounds at the door and the king bolts to his feet, cramming his crown back on his head and straightening his shirt.  He glances at Mark quickly, breathing a sigh of relief when he sees that the prince didn't wake up.

    "Come in," he calls, masking the expression on his face.

    One of the knights steps inside and bows before lifting his gaze to the king.  "Your majesty, we must get going.  Shall we wake the prince up or shall we borrow a carriage?"

    "Get a carriage.  I will ride with him," Seán answers.

    The knight nods and exits the room with another bow.  The king takes a deep breath and leans down, lifting Mark with some help from his magic.  The prince stirs, but stays asleep as he's carried out of the inn in the king's cloak and placed on a cot in the back of the carriage.  Seán nods to his men, proud of how fast they can get ready, before one of the knights shuts the door.

    Mark stays asleep until the carriage starts moving. The moment it does he bolts upright, his eyes flickering back and forth as he tries to take in his surroundings.  He groans from the sudden movement, but doesn't lie back down.  Seán's eyes lock onto Mark's and he reaches out, taking the prince's hand in his.

    "Where, uh... no, Seán... ow..." he gasps, fidgeting as though he's searching for every escape possible.  The carriage bumps and he freezes, his entire body growing stiff.

    "Look at me, Mark," Seán says softly.  When the prince's eyes lock onto his, some of the tension disappears from his muscles.  "Focus on me.  Breathe."

    Mark takes a few deep breaths, followed by a few coughs, and squeezes the king's hand.  "Seán?"

    "Yeah, it's me, Mark.  You're safe."

    He opens his mouth to speak, but the only thing that comes out is a harsh sob.  He curls up, burying his face in his knees, and tries to get himself under control.  His torso and back are painted black and blue with bruises, and the gash on his chest, although smaller thanks to medicine and magic, is still painful to look at.

    Seán stands and wraps his cloak, which had fallen off when the prince awoke, around Mark's shoulders again.  The prince lifts his reddened eyes, glancing from the cloak to the king before slowly reaching out, taking Seán's hand in his.  The royal smiles a little through the tears that threaten to fill his eyes.

    "I don't like this," Mark croaks, resting his cheek on his knee.  "The carriage."

    "This was the only thing we could do.  I'm sorry," Seán replies.

    Mark nods a little and tries to breath evenly, closing his eyes in a desperate attempt to block out his surroundings.  "I'm sorry," he murmurs into his knees.

    "For what?"

    "For being weak."

    The king shakes his head and slowly, hesitantly, moves closer to Mark.  The prince tenses, but when he feels Seán squeeze his hand, he relaxes slightly.

    "Mark, it is my fault that I couldn't protect you."

    "No, no..." Mark shudders, choking on his words as his hand clenches tighter around Seán's.  He opens his mouth to say more, but instead bites his lip and stares down at the bed.

    Seán moves from the chair to the bed and Mark watches him, his eyes welling with tears again.  The king opens his arms, inviting the prince for a hug, and Mark observes him for a good minute before closing the distance between them.  His movements are slow as he gently rests against Seán, shuddering as he inhales the scent of the king's shirt.

    "Can you tell me what happened?" the royal asks softly.

    "I..." Mark shrugs a little before shaking his head.

    "Okay."  Seán moves to rub his back, but figures that's probably a bad idea due to the bruises that paint his skin.  Instead, he rests his hand gently on the prince's shoulder.  "You should probably get some sleep.  You have a lot of healing to do, and rest will help."

    Mark nods a little and shuts his eyes again.  After a moment, he opens them again.  He grips the king's shirt in trembling fingers, and when he speaks, his voice is soft and weak.  "Please stay..."

    "I'm right here," Seán murmurs.  His royal reputation means nothing now that Mark in his arms.  The prince may be scared now, but at least he's not dead.  As tenderly as possible, Seán lies down on the bed so Mark can fall asleep against him.  The prince quivers lightly, his fingers curling around the king's hand, as the carriage bumps along the roads and fields leading to Viride.  Sometimes the wheel will hit a rock and Mark will sway, groaning as his wounded body bumps the sides of the bed.

    Seán holds him close, trying not to worry too much about the wounded prince beside him.  Instead, he savours in the fact that Mark's face is pressed against his chest and that in a couple hours, they'll be back home.