The Gifts We Share [A Medieval AU]

Chapter Forty-Seven - Swords and Fears

After a full day of riding, the caravan finally stops again and the servants start setting up camp. Seán dismounts quickly before grabbing Mark and heading to the outskirts of the makeshift camp, one sword in his hand and one on his belt.

"Sword lesson?" Mark asks, although he already knows the answer.

Seán nods and passes him the sword in his hand. "I'll teach you basic maneuvers and then we'll spar."

"I won't accidentally kill you, will I?" Mark asks, a sudden fear entering his tone that makes the royal nearly laugh.

"Of course not. These aren't sharp, and I'll be able to disarm you before you even get close." Seán gestures to a few potato sacks stuffed with hay. "And I've got some dummies for you to practice on."

"Oh good." The prince exhales a little, looking at the blade in his hand. "I used to take my dad's rake or his hoe and pretend it was a sword back when I was younger and living on the farm. He taught me a little, but it's been years and I've never used a real blade."

Seán smiles when he imagines little Mark playing around the farmyard. "So you won't be utterly hopeless then?"

"Nope." Mark winks. "Just mostly."

Seán rolls his eyes, a blush dusting his cheeks at the prince's wink. Coughing a little, he gestures towards the dummy. "Start by getting comfortable with the feel of the sword in your hand."

Mark glances at his blade before stepping towards the makeshift dummy, taking a swing that ends in the prince falling forward and his sword getting lodged in the side of the potato sack.

Seán grins. "Nice."

"Shut up, your majesty," Mark replies, trying to hide his own smile as he yanks his sword free. "It's a lot heavier than a rake."

Mark continues to practice until nightfall. By the time their training session ends, the prince can hold his ground when sparring with Seán, although he can't actually disarm him yet. He wipes the sweat from his forehead as he lowers his blade, grinning at the king.

"I'm getting good!" he exclaims.

"You are," Seán agrees. He sheathes his sword and reaches out, taking Mark's hand in his. "We should probably head to bed, though. We still have a lot of ground to cover tomorrow and we need sleep if we're going to stay awake."

"Oh Seán, the king of telling me things I already know," the prince teases, earning a playful punch from Seán.

"Hey, I never know when you might need a reminder." The king smiles a little, squeezing Mark's hand a little tighter. "You're in a really good mood."

"I feel great. I feel like I can finally hold my ground against the conqueror."

Seán nods, his face falling slightly.  Sometimes, he can easily ignore the fact that every day, they grow closer to that man.  Other days, the fear seems like too much to handle.  He glances at Mark, his blue eyes filling with concern that he doesn't bother to hide.  "Are you scared? About facing him or going back, I mean..."

Mark shrugs, pursing his lips. "A little, I guess. I mean, he's the reason I have no family..." He pauses, his eyes flashing with remembrance. "This is what my mother wanted me to do. Even if I'm scared, I won't turn back."

Seán nods, worry welling in his heart. The possibility of Mark dying is still present. Despite all the abilities they may possess, this is still a ridiculously dangerous mission. The truth of the matter is that Seán loves Mark far too much to lose him.

"What are you thinking about, Seán?" Mark asks, his voice soft. The king snaps out of his thoughts, glancing at the prince with a small shrug.

"You," he replies honestly. "This. I know I'm here with you, but I'm still afraid of all the things that could go wrong. Everything that could end up with me losing you."

They reach their tent and step inside. As soon as the flaps fall closed behind them, Mark places his hands on Seán's shoulders and turns the king so that he's facing him.

"We're going to protect each other, Seán. I know it's dangerous, but I will do everything in my power to make sure this doesn't end badly."

"Okay," the royal whispers. He takes a shaky breath and presses a gentle kiss to Mark's lips, a silent promise, thanks, and plea.

We'll protect each other.

Thank you for being here.

Please, please don't die.