make me stay.

twentyeight

"he should be checked by a physician, but i believe, rest would allow his body to heal on its own." i smile, meeting the father's eyes. 

"thank you, your mayesty," he bows his head for the time it takes him to address me, my mouth opening a slight before i close it again. 

i attempt to form words, but they all seem to stumble off of my tongue with no meaning before i can gather them into sentences. i had not even told him my name. 

"your eyes," he whispers. "they resemble the king's," he nods, respectfully, before i suddenly feel a sharp pain spread in my right hand. i i bite my hand, keeping a whine from escaping, behind my teeth, as a deep frown folds on my forehead. i shake my hand, trying to relieve the pain, but it continues, unbothered. 

i glance down,  moving my fingers which all feel broken. it had begun in my knuckles, like had i punched a wall, and had then spread out to my fingertips. but despite the sharp painful strike, the pain almost felt hollow. like was it not my own, which it shouldn't be. i hadn't even moved my hand when i felt it. 

"is anything wrong?" the commander questions. 

"my hand is just aching," i reply, shaking it again. 

"shared pain, i assume?" his words are casual, like would i know what that meant. i repeat the words back to him, and he chuckles. "you share intense pain with the king. if you get hurt, he'll feel it and opposite," 

my mouth forms into an 'oh' sound, but no word actually sounds. i sit on the grass, my mind twisting, ready to crack in a few places. 

shared pain. or, at least, intense pain. what had hurt his hand? it felt like he had broken a fall with his fist. like had his fist struck a hard surface, like a punch. had he punched someone?

oh god. wesley?

without a warning, i excuse myself. i stand up on my shaky legs, my eyes wide. 

"your majesty," the commander interrupts the spiral in my mind, grabbing my wrist. he gives it a squeeze to gain my attention, but his grip is careful. 

"yes?" i finally reply, before turning around the moment before the entire front side of my body collides with another one. 

one of the daughters pulls me into a rough hug, holding onto my for dear life. i am only the lest bit taller than her, but she manages to pull me down the few inches, only tightening her arms around my neck. 

"oh-" i exclaim softly, surprised and lacking air due to her hug. 

"madelaine, dear," the mother pulls her daughter back the slighest bit, but the girl doesn't move. "please, let our queen breathe,"

suddenly, madelaine millans pulls back, like had i set her back on fire. her eyes are wide, ready to roll out of their sockets any time, as she swallows what appears to be the size of a lemon in spit. she struggles to swallow properly as she meets my gaze, apologising for her behaviour. 

"i sincerely apologise, your majesty. i was not thinking clearly," she mutters, starring down the tips of her shoes, before i reach out to stroke her arm. 

her head shoots up, eyes tearing up ever so slightly. i smile, a soft chuckle dancing on my lips. "no apology needed, madelaine."