The Gifts We Share [A Medieval AU]

Chapter Fourteen - Flame and Shamrock

As soon as breakfast is finished, Mark heads down to King Seán's office with a certain air of determination. He needs to find out about the mark that has plagued him all night.  He must have his questions answered.  When he enters the office, the royal is sitting at his desk with a quill in hand.

"I did not expect you so early," King Seán comments, glancing up at the farmer as he enters.

"I have questions about the mark you mentioned yesterday," Mark replies, settling into the chair across from his desk. When the king nods, the American continues. "First of all, what does the mark look like?"

"That depends on the kingdom you are from. I believe the Rubellus mark looks like a flame," King Seán replies, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he digs into his memory.

"What about the Viride marking?"

"A shamrock."

"How do we know who was born with the mark?" Mark asks. "And what happens when the person with the mark dies?"

King Seán watches him for a moment. "You were not lying when you said you had a lot of questions." He pauses, tapping his chin with his finger lightly. "Usually, you grow up with the people who have the marking. That was not the case for you, however, so we can access that information through other means. Now, in the case of the person with the brand dying... then it passes on to the next most worthy until there is nobody left."

Mark nods, his mind racing. "Can we find who in my family has the imprint?"

"Yes, but first I want to test something. Since it is incredibly likely that you are the only one with royal blood left in your family, you are most likely the one with the mark," King Seán replies. "The magic I'll use will make the insignia burn a bit. No lasting damage, but it will hurt a tad."

"That's okay," Mark replies. "I just need to know."

The royal watches him with emotionless eyes for a moment before standing and moving towards the farmer's chair. The intensity of their magic grows the closer he gets, the familiar magic buzzing fervently between them. He stops in front of him as a tendril of green magic flows from his hand, gripping Mark's wrist and sinking into his skin. The moment it does, searing heat tears through the American's back and makes his spine feel like it's on fire. He grits his teeth and shuts his eyes, attempting to hold back a scream as what feels like a thousand burning needles drive themselves into every section of skin. After a few moments, the heat centralizes on his shoulder blade and stays there, and Mark manages to pry his eyes open. King Seán clenches his jaw slightly and walks around to the back of the American's chair.

"The mark is on your shoulder blade, as you can probably feel. The intensity is high, which means that you're probably the second person to have it," he states. "Is it okay if I look?"

"Go ahead," Mark squeaks, his eyes still watering from the pain. "That hurt more than a tad, by the way."

"My apologies," the king replies, sounding only slightly apologetic as he pulls the American's shirt off his shoulder. His cold fingers press against the spot that burns the most, instantly easing the pain and making Mark sigh with relief. "The Flame of Rubellus is right here."

He pulls his hand back and lifts Mark's shirt back into place before heading towards his numerous bookshelves. The American watches as he digs through his shelves, his cloak swishing back and forth as he moves. He's sort of captivating to watch; he's lean, serious, young. Mark can't help but wonder how old he is. He can't be much older than him, can he?

The king locates the book he wants and opens it, flipping a few pages before landing on the one he wants. Clearing his throat slightly, he starts to read. "Genealogy of the Kingdom of Rubellus." He skims the next few lines before speaking again. "Prince Edward. Son of King Phillip and Queen Maria. Grandson of High King David. Prince Edward had no siblings, but two children, Prince Thomas and Prince Mark." King Seán shuts the book. "I assume your brother was originally born with the Flame of Rubellus, and since he is gone, you have it."

Mark nods, his eyes creasing a bit in determination. "I need to reclaim my kingdom. I am the rightful ruler, after all."

King Seán sighs and sets the book back on the shelf. "You need to learn how to harness your magic first, Mark. You cannot fight a battle and win if you are unable to perform magic, much less wield a sword."

Mark takes a step towards the king, feeling the magic around them increase in intensity slightly. "Then teach me, Seán."

The royal inclines his head. "As you wish."