The Gifts We Share [A Medieval AU]

Chapter Twenty-Seven - The Song

"Mark, are you okay?"

The farmer looks to the king and nods, blinking a few times in an attempt to get rid of the sleepiness. "I'm fine."

He lifts his hands and gets his magic swirling around his digits, using it to lift a book from the floor with a non-verbal command. It shudders after a few seconds and collapses, thumping against the carpet. Their entire magic lesson has gone the same way. All the progress that Mark had made in previous lessons seems to have disappeared, and it's infuriating.

"You're exhausted," Seán insists.

"I am a little bit tired. It's not a big deal."

"Did something happen?"

"Why do you keep asking?"

The king watches Mark, his eyes adopting that icy, annoyed, intimidating glare that the farmer absolutely hates. Mark meets his gaze and shrinks away slightly.

"I had a nightmare. It's nothing."

Seán's eyes soften in an instant. Mark tries to lift the book again, but before he gets a chance, the royal moves it out of the way. The farmer has to stop himself from glaring at Seán. Instead, he crosses his arms and stares at the floor.

"What was it about?" Seán asks.

Mark has to bite back a snappy comment. Instead, he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Um... my family."

The king gives him a sympathetic look and Mark has to stop himself from crying or yelling or doing something irrational.  "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Distractions are good," the farmer replies with tightness in his voice. He glances at Seán. "Can we just keep going with the lesson? I'm finally getting the hang of non-verbal commands and I really don't want to think about my family."

Seán purses his lips, but doesn't push the subject as they continue their lesson. By the end, Mark can comfortably order his magic to do things without him needing to say the command out loud. Seán congratulates him, but his tone holds an element of concern. He still watches Mark with those understanding eyes, and the farmer can't decide whether at a time like this, he likes emotional or emotionless Seán more.

"Mark, you said distractions help," he says before the farmer can propose the idea of going back to his room. "Would a dancing lesson help? I can teach you how to make music with just your magic as well, if you want."

Mark watches him for a moment before sighing. In reality, he doesn't want to go back to his room. When he's in his room, he usually cries or punches his bed or screams into his pillow. Being with Seán is the exact opposite of that. "Sure."

Seán smiles and Mark's heart rate increases dramatically. "Alright. I think today should be a refresher on one of our traditional dances because if you're creating the music, it should be a song you know."

"Should I pick just anything?" Mark asks, wracking his brains for a song he knows.

"Anything," the king confirms. "Your magic will understand when you give it an order."

The song that comes to Mark's mind is one that his mother used to sing as a lullaby when her sons couldn't fall asleep. It was the first song she learned upon coming to Viride and was always a favourite of hers. She sung it all the time, when she worked and when she was simply strolling down the street. It's a song about how the world falls asleep at night and will always wake in the morning, no matter how bad things get. Mark learned the dance when he would go to parties in town, but his fondest memories are the ones of his mother singing it to him and Tom when they went to sleep.

His magic flows from his fingers, filling the room with the oh-so-familiar song. Although it's not his mother's voice singing it, it has the same tone and gentleness that her song had. Mark watches the red, glittering magic flow through the air like fire before looking back to Seán, whose eyes twinkle like diamonds.

Mark reaches out his hand to the king, and after a second Seán takes it. They go through the motions of the dance, swaying and stepping in perfect synchronization. Their eyes lock, and neither of them can tear their gaze away. Crystalline blue, shimmering like water and as vibrant as a jewel, meeting warm brown, rich like chocolate and as dark as the soil after the rain. The music dances with them, sweet and strong as it fills the space and alights their features with the firelight of his magic. Mark can almost feel his mother's ghost in the room with him, smiling at her son as he dances to the music she loved so dearly.

The instruments sing their final note, and it takes a few seconds for the pair to slow to a stop. Tears fill Mark's eyes, but he doesn't move to wipe them away. He keeps his hand firmly clasped in Seán's, a smile finding its way onto his face.

The king, his mouth slightly ajar, glances from the farmer's face to their interlocked hands.

They linger there, lost in the moment, for a few more seconds before they let their hands fall away.