The Gifts We Share [A Medieval AU]

Chapter Eighteen - Leaving

Mark feels completely and utterly torn as he stands and leaves his room. On one hand, he wants to get back to his mother as soon as possible. On the other, he doesn't like meetings with the king when he's in the throne room. His cold demeanour, the emotionlessness in his eyes that hides even the loneliness... Mark isn't sure he can handle it. Every time he gets one step closer to friendship with Seán, it feels like he takes another two steps back.

With dread in his heart, he exits his room and moves down the various hallways that will lead him to the throne room. The guards don't watch him warily anymore, which Mark figures is a good thing. At least they're used to him.

The hall leading to the throne room doors is the longest one in the farmer's mind. Every step brings him closer to the cold gaze of King Seán, and it gives him as much anxiety as it did the first time he was brought up from the dungeon. Bracing himself, he approaches the large pair of oak doors and the guards pull them open.

Sure enough, King Seán sits in his throne with one leg crossed over the other, his cloak surrounding him and increasing his look of regality. His crown slants slightly towards one cold blue eye as the king leans on his closed fist, watching Mark. Cold. Emotionless. It makes Mark want to scream.

"Your royal highness," he says, bowing. Half of him wants Seán to correct him, saying "It's Seán" in that lightly annoyed tone, but he knows the royal won't. Not when so many advisors and guards sit around watching. "I have a request."

"Speak, Fischbach," King Seán answers.

"I have just received a letter from my mother stating that she is dying." He pauses a moment as he feels his throat close up. He will NOT cry in front of all these powerful men and women. "I kindly ask that you allow me to stay with her for her last few days."

King Seán watches Mark for an uncomfortable amount of time. The American shifts in place, awaiting a response so he can book it back to his room.

"You may leave tomorrow morning. However, if you do not return to the castle in a reasonable amount of time, I will be forced to send my guards after you," the royal says finally.

"Thank you, your majesty." Mark's eyes lock onto Seán's and for a second his emotionless barricade cracks, revealing deep loneliness and pain. Nobody seems to notice anything as the farmer, his eyes burning, bows again and exits the throne room.

He wants to be there for Seán. He doesn't know the full extent of what causes that hurt and he doesn't know why that loneliness is there, but he does know that when he makes the king laugh, those things go away. He can't explain the connection he has with him, or why every time he sees the lights leave Seán's eyes he feels his heart break in two. He does know, however, that he can make the Irishman smile. Maybe, if the king was happier and more open, they could quench each other's thirst for companionship.

Mark reenters his room and collapses into bed, wanting to sleep away the time but feeling far too awake to do so. He focuses on his hand again and gets the red magic to start swirling far faster than before. It's calming and takes his mind off of his thoughts, which is a relief more than anything. He's always been an emotional person, and it turns out that that part of him didn't change very much from childhood to adulthood.

The only interruption is Flora entering to give him supper. Mark does his best to avoid anyone seeing his magic, only channeling it when he's alone. The night drags on, and the entire time the farmer's worries for his mother increase. She had been so vague in her letter...

The next morning, Mark drags himself out of bed and packs a few essentials into a leather messenger bag. He doesn't want to stand out among the other townsfolk, so he swaps the fancy clothes he was provided for the ones he arrived at the castle in. Flora kindly washed them for him, so he looks rather clean and collected when he leaves the room and heads down the stairs to the entrance of the castle.

When he gets to the front doors, King Seán stands there waiting for him. To Mark's surprise, the guards are nowhere to be seen.

"Your majesty," Mark greets, bowing.

"Seán," the royal replies instantly. "Call me Seán."

The farmer nods. "What are you doing here, Seán?"

"I wanted to see you off." The king glances at the ground, the emotionless exterior melting away when he looks back at Mark. "I also wanted you to promise me something."

"What?"

"Promise me that you will come back and that you will not run away."

Mark nearly chokes. It's by far one of the most sentimental things he's ever heard the king say, and he has to stop himself from demanding WHY.

"I will come back," Mark manages to say. "In a few days."

"Good." The king takes a deep breath. "I want to continue our lessons. And..." He cuts himself off and waves his hand. "Never mind. I look forward to your return."

Mark bows. "Farewell, Seán."

The slightest of smiles pulls at the king's lips. "Farewell, Mark."