Markiplier Moments

M'lady (Part 3)

"Yes?" spoke the man, who turned out to be much younger than Mark had assumed with a childlike voice.

This made his majesty relax somewhat. "I'm very sorry to bother you, forgive me please, but is there anywhere nearby that I could keep my horse while I run some errands around town?" Shockingly, the thought flowed out effortlessly and required little thought to formulate a decent scenario. The boy scratched the back of his neck all the way up to the dusty blonde locks that lay in a straight line above his eyebrows.

He exhaled, "Uh...I could ask my father."

"Yes! T-thank you sir," Mark stuttered with an unexpected burst of excitement.

The boy then politely motioned for him to step away, as he continued up to a heavily used trail leading to a little cabin house. With every step the wooden porch groaned beneath his feet and the loose door creaked loudly when the boy entered his home, calling for his father. Mark's eyes thoughtlessly searched for something to fixate on as he waited patiently outside by his horse. He, without reason, found a pair of weathered twin rocking chairs that matched the cabin's exterior; they swayed freely in the mild breeze, this alone some how kept his curious mind at bay.

Looks like a war was lost, he thought to himself. He said this facetiously of course but he meant no disrespect or belittlement; to him, this is how he imagined a war zone looked. Deserted, rundown, dusty, and shells of what could be small but extravagant castles at every corner. A random and unexpected feeling crept up in his throat - sadness. Sadness knowing second hand what great success can truly become of such a life.

Muffled talking of a loudly spoken voice drawn with authority could be heard through the logs of the house. The pausing periods between the voice signaled the boy must've had to negotiate with his father. Mark cringed a bit, hoping he hadn't already caused any unnecessary tension since entering this new area. He lit up with nerves when the boy emerged from the house and approached him.

"Come along then," the blonde boy flicked his arm, motioning the Prince to follow him. "You can keep it in one of our pens but for no longer than an hour." Mark beamed with a distant relieved smile as he wrapped the chain holding Daisy's snout around his wrist loosely.

"Thank you, erm..?"

"Holton."

"Thank you Holton, very much. A-and be sure to thank your father for me as well, yes?"

He nodded shortly without looking back up again. With no shading of trees or balcony ledges at all, Mark now felt what he saw Holton walking through on his way up the hillside. The sun's heat was dreadful. He found his body condensating at the seams and unfortunately, he hadn't thought of how the clothes would feel after hanging in his closet for years without washing. Velvet never felt rough against his skin like his cowhide tunic did at the moment.

While following the boy and simultaneously guiding the golden steed gently behind, the Prince lay eyes on the endless rolling hills of bright green grass ahead of them, soon becoming lost in their curves. The rich farmland that sat behind such an anachronous township greatly surprised him. Just when things were already beautiful enough, pens of free roaming animals came into view just ahead of them. The residual smile on Mark renewed once again upon seeing such beauty.

It reminded him of home, a feeling that should've been comforting. But as the truth laying behind all of this persistently lingered in his mind, the thought of home made him feel negatively...he wasn't quite sure why. He could hear Thomas in his head picking at him playfully, you're becoming too comfortable as a peasant already. Keep at it and you may stay as one!

...Maybe he would.

He's abruptly broken from his thoughts by a nearby pubescent voice. "So, stranger. I told you my name. Do you plan on telling me yours?"