Surprised By Joy, Impatient As the Wind

The Farewell

Despite his staunch position on the issue of Jack's innocence, Mark found sleep hard to come by.

Sleeping beside his peaceful young wife brought him no comfort. It wasn't until the sun was peeking above the trees that the kind found himself in a doze, dreaming of rain that stuck to his hair and ran down his skin in rivulets, and then he was tumbling without control into the lake to find himself underwater, surrounded by dozens of others who couldn't move, either.

Mark was alone when he opened his eyes again, greeted by a headache of a knock on his chamber door and a voice announcing the start of the day.

By the time midday slugged about, the king's mood hadn't improved. The role of monarch was an important one: The people prospered morally from a strong leader to look up to, and many issues were directed to him for his sole decision. The paperwork, however, was miserable. Signing, sealing, sending, like a time loop in hell. Settling disputes between villagers and giving everyone what they deserved, whether it be land, gold, or time in the dungeons.

All members of the council were dismissed from the throne room once all duties were finished at midday. Mark, as always, was shadowed only by Cry, who held his tongue until the room had emptied and the king had slouched into his throne as if he'd be willing to be swallowed by it.

"What's the matter?" the royal informer asked into the echo of the abandoned room. "Your friend's free, you're still king, and your kingdom's prospering like never before."

Mark felt as if he had aged 80 years in a single night. His bones were slipping away from his melting flesh, and if he slept forever, he wouldn't mind. When he opened his mouth to try and explain the feeling, though, no words came to mind, so he only sighed. "I don't know, Cry. Maybe I'm not fit to be king. Maybe I never was."

Mark had never seen his shadowed friend hesitate before now. The man shifted his footing and took a few extra seconds to respond. "You're a Fischbach. You're royalty. It's destiny, all of it."

The king huffed out what could have been a short-lived bitter laugh. "It's a goddamn tragedy. Thomas should be king. If he were here..."

A pause in the conversation made it seem as if the entire world had stuttered to a stop for a split second. The chirping of new birds broke the illusion, and the royal informer took it upon himself to speak again.

"I think...that we should accept what's happening. You're king now, and that's that." Cry cleared his throat. "Maybe you should go take another of your rides through the woods."

That caught Mark's attention. Another ride... It couldn't be safe, not in the least. Their prime suspect was innocent and free, so whoever was responsible for the deaths of the king and his eldest son remained at large. No doubt they wanted the entire royal family dead. For whatever reason that was, no one knew.

Every ride through the woods Mark took was a risk to his life and to his lineage. He expected to have a son one day, a prince to raise, but even a future child would be in danger until the assassin was found.

And yet he felt as if nothing else could help him. Alone, relaxed, with nothing but the forest and his horse. He'd promised Jack a visit, anyway.

"Well...alright," the king conceded. "A ride usually clears my mind." He gave Cry a pat on the shoulder and a tight smile. "I'll see you later. And...thanks."

He barely looked at the stable boy as he strode over to his mare, mounted her, and took off into the woods.

-----

The scenery was like medicine, reminding Mark that life wasn't all meetings, declarations, laws, and sustaining the weight of a golden crown on his head without letting his neck crumple like an organetto. It settled his mind bit by bit, familiar flowers dry of the morning dew from the noontime sun warming the greens.