After an extended period of just sitting and being content, Seán pulls himself away from Mark and stands. The farmer immediately misses his warmth against his side and finds himself standing as well. A short, sweet goodnight ensues before they part ways, heading to their individual bedrooms.
The night does not go as well as the day. When Mark finally manages to fall asleep, his dreams are haunted by his family and images of Seán dying at the hands of a faceless adversary. He never screams, however. He just jolts awake, sweating and shaking, staring into the darkness until he regains his grip on reality. Then, when he's mostly calm, he falls back against the pillows and tries to sleep again.
At first, today is no different. He jolts awake, sweat soaking his neck and back, and tries to get a hold of himself. What changes his usual routine is the soft creaking of his door, followed by a pale face poking through the crack. He gazes through the darkness, trying to discern facial features, before resorting to speaking.
"Who's there?" he whispers, his voice a harsh mixture between sleepiness and tentativeness.
"Oh, Mark, you're awake." The Irish lilt of the king is unmistakeable, and Mark immediately relaxes. "I'm sorry. Um, it's stupid of me to be here. Sorry, I'll just go back to bed now..."
"No, it's okay. Come here," Mark assures him. "Nightmare?"
Seán nods a little and moves into the room, closing the door softly behind him. Mark takes him in; the nervousness in his face that's illuminated by the pale moonlight, the white cotton shirt, the... oh sweet Jesus, the green mop of bedhead. Slowly, the king moves across the floor and settles, cross-legged, on the very edge of Mark's bed.
"Why are you awake?" Seán asks, his voice soft and sleepy.
"Nightmare." Mark rubs the back of his neck, smiling lightly at the royal. "What was yours about?"
"Today? My family, the kingdom... you, sometimes..." He pulls his knees into his chest and takes a deep, shuddering breath.
"It's the same for me," Mark says, scooting closer to the royal.
Seán watches him for a moment before exhaling heavily, pressing his face into his knees before mumbling his response. "I know I'm being ridiculous. I am a king, and yet I run to someone else because I can't deal with my nightmares."
"Hey." Mark reaches out, resting gentle fingertips against Seán's jaw and leading the king to meet his gaze. "You can't always be strong. I'm a safe place, okay? Anything you tell me will never reach the ears of anyone else."
"Okay," Seán whispers. He slowly uncurls himself, moving closer to Mark. "Can... can I stay here? I don't want to go back to my room."
The farmer nods, opening his arms as an invitation. Hesitantly, the royal crawls across the bed and into the hug, letting his head fall against Mark's chest.
"This is a pretty good end to a hard day," he murmurs.
Mark chuckles and presses a kiss to Seán's hair. He could definitely get used to this. Gradually, the king falls asleep, and the farmer tucks him under the covers as gently as possible. Mark settles beside him, and before long, Seán has his arms wrapped around his waist.
The farmer smiles. He's a clinger? That's adorable.
Mark falls asleep easily for the first time in what feels like forever.
——
The next morning is what Mark would qualify as "the best". Seán is pressed against his side, his green hair tickling the farmer's jaw. He looks innocent and sweet when he's asleep, totally unlike the emotionless king that sits on the throne. Mark exhales, settling deeper into the pillows with a peaceful smile on his face.
Seán wakes up a short while later with a jolt, his eyes attempting to take in a room that his brain can't seem to process fast enough. Mark grabs his hand, pulling the king's attention to him. He locks eyes with the farmer, although he doesn't relax right away.
"Mark, if the servants find me here-"
"What are they going to do?" Mark asks, his tone challenging the king's workers.
"Spread rumours. Lose respect. If they knew that their king can't handle a nightmare, they could dethrone me." He shudders. "Or get the people together and do worse."
The farmer frowns. "They wouldn't do that."
"I can't afford to assume anything else." Seán sighs heavily and pulls himself away from Mark, absentmindedly ruffling his hair. The farmer almost reaches out for him, but stops himself and instead tucks his hand under his leg. The king sighs again and stands, looking to Mark one last time with the emotionless mask donned. "The other monarchs are leaving today. I have to go get myself ready for them."
Without another word, Seán slips out of the room. Mark watches him go before flopping back into the cushions, his hands over his face. The blue eyes, dulled with an expressionless façade, drive him nuts. His constant fear of how the world sees him is infuriating. Mark's heart clenches uncomfortably at the very thought of the king.
Reluctantly, the farmer drags himself out of bed and gets ready for the painfully long day ahead.