Chapter Text
Martyn slammed the door shut and let out a long, slow sigh. His head tipped back and thunked against the wood, and his body sagged against the doorframe. For a moment, he went utterly still. He didn’t even seem to be breathing. Then his hands darted to the clasp of his cloak. He fumbled with it for a few seconds, but eventually slipped it off over his head and threw it as far from him as he could.
Scott took off his own cloak, folded it, set it down on his bed, and waited patiently for his guard to collect himself. Martyn buried his face in his hands, shoulders trembling and breathing shaky. Scott’s hands twitched at his sides, longing to offer some form of comfort. Given their track record with physical contact, he wasn’t sure if it would make things better or worse.
Martyn sank down to the floor, brought his knees up to his chest, and hid his face in them. Everything fell unbearably silent around them. Even the bird calls had ceased. The quiet felt heavy, pressing in on Scott like it was sand in a desert, and he was suffocating. He waited for Martyn to start the conversation, but as the moment stretched on, he said nothing.
“Martyn?” Scott eventually whispered into the silence, unable to take it any longer. He crossed the room and sat next to him, so close that they were a scant few centimeters from touching. His hand hovered over Martyn’s shoulder, the tips of his fingers just barely brushing the fabric of his shirt. Martyn flinched, and Scott quickly pulled away, shuffling to the side to put some more distance between them.
Martyn lifted his head, exposing his hollow, sunken expression. It remained quiet for a minute more, neither quite sure where to start. Scott held his gaze, wondering silently what would come next. He didn’t particularly feel like holding Martyn to his promise of an explanation when he was like this.
Martyn didn’t seem to share this sentiment, because he swallowed. He sighed, staring at his hands, and fidgeted with his thumbs. “Did I ever tell you how I got this job, Your Highness?”
Scott jumped, surprised to hear Martyn speak at all.
“You don’t have to—” he started, but Martyn shook his head.
“I-” his voice cracked. He rubbed his eyes and took a steadying breath, releasing it slowly. “I didn’t come from a well off family,” he began, still not looking at Scott. He frowned like he was ashamed of the fact, as though his poverty was some great personal failing. “I didn’t come from a family at all, in fact. I’ve been an orphan for as long as I can remember. The only person I had was… my little brother.”
“You have a brother?” Scott asked. Martyn gave him a sad smile.
“His name was Jimmy. He wasn’t—we weren’t brothers by blood. We met in the orphanage, but I couldn’t tell you when. I can’t remember a time when we weren’t close. It just seemed like… a fundamental truth, back then.” Martyn laughed sourly. “He was a scrawny kid. Sickly, too. Always the first one to fall ill when winter came around.
“I looked out for him. Stood up for him when the other kids were cruel, shared my food, spent what little money I made on medicine. Nobody else expected him to make it past thirteen. He didn’t expect to make it past thirteen. But he was all I had. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing him.”
“I’m sorry.” Scott swallowed. Guilt stewed heavily in his chest, growing as Martyn’s head dipped lower.
“I worked odd jobs here and there, wherever I could,” he continued, and now he was leaning his head back. “But a lot of folks in my neighborhood didn’t have a whole lot of coin to spare for hiring, and the ones who did didn’t want anything to do with someone like me. They were all too far up in the clouds to care about the people still on the ground. They didn’t give a rat’s ass about me or Jimmy.”
Scott’s hand curled into a fist, indignant. Imagine having the wealth and resources to help people in need, and refusing to do anything with it? Scott thought of some of the proposals Xornoth had put together. Wealth distribution policies that were stopped by haggard old councilmen who didn’t like the idea of parting from any portion of their money. He remembered his parents’ disapproval at Scott sneaking extra change into the pockets of stableboys and maids, even though it barely put a dent in his allowance.
“I think… I met them when I was fourteen,” Martyn’s voice startled Scott, who returned his attention to the blond. “They were the first people to offer me any substantial amount of coin in three weeks. Jimmy had just caught the flu, and he… he wasn’t doing well. He needed a doctor, but the orphanage couldn’t afford one. I was desperate. I never would have taken the job otherwise, and they knew it.”
“Who are… ‘they’?” Scott asked hesitantly, almost afraid of the answer. He had a sinking suspicion that he really, really didn’t want to know.
“The Watchers,” Martyn whispered, his voice quivering. Scott tried his best not to react to the name, but he couldn’t help the small, sharp inhale and the instinctive stiffening of his shoulders.
Of course he knew who the Watchers were. You’d have to live under a rock not to. An international criminal organization, known to be responsible for anything from petty crime to staging full on wars between kingdoms. Most people called them a “gang,” since that was the face most often visible to the public. Yet that wasn’t quite accurate.
No mere gang could have the impact that the Watchers had on the continents they touched. It was often whispered that they were working towards some larger goal, the likes of which not even most of their members knew of. The more paranoid said they were trying to bring about the fall of society as they knew it. Others theorized that they may be trying to start a nation of their own. No matter the truth, it was the lack of any concrete knowledge that made them such a widespread threat.
Martyn glanced over at Scott and winced at whatever expression he was wearing. There was a flash of hurt, maybe a bit of wariness, but also resignation and a strange kind of satisfaction. It was the weary gaze of a man who had imagined this scenario a thousand times before, and had expected this reaction. He didn’t look away, though. Simply stared and awaited Scott’s judgment.
But Scott didn’t know what to think.
“It wasn’t much, at first,” Martyn said when Scott remained silent. He sounded like a man pleading his case in front of a jury. “I was a messenger for them, delivering orders and keeping people up to date, just within the town. Sometimes they’d have me run packages from one location to the other. I don’t know what was in them. I was always too afraid to ask.”
As he spoke, his eyes flicked all over Scott’s face, searching for a sign, whether it be of condemnation or absolution. But Scott had none to give. He still didn’t— couldn’t —make sense of what he was hearing.
It was one thing to know that Martyn didn’t come from a pristine academy and a flawless record. It was another to suspect minor theft going on behind the scenes, something he could easily overlook. But to hear, from his own mouth, that he had joined up with people such as the Watchers… Now that was more than he had been prepared for.
“I don’t think anyone in our town was ever involved in the… bigger stuff, but I wouldn’t know. It was still dangerous, and I knew that even at the time. I questioned it every other day, it feels like.” He huffed bitterly. “But the pay was too good to pass up. I was making more money in a week than I had in the last year. I was even able to pay a doctor to come check out Jimmy a couple times. It didn’t really help, but… it made me feel like I was doing something, at least.
“I never told Jimmy where the money came from, but I think he at least suspected. He didn’t like it. But in the grand scheme of things, the things they were asking me to do weren’t all that bad. It was all small scale, local. As long as I kept my head down and did what I was told, I didn’t get into any trouble.”
There followed a long pause. The rest of the story hung ominously between them, not yet said aloud but still unmistakably there. Stories like this didn’t end well. If Martyn’s had, he wouldn’t be here.
“But…?” Scott hedged eventually.
Martyn grimaced. “But then things started… escalating.” He dragged a hand down his face. “I didn’t realize it was happening for a while. All I knew was that they were suddenly asking me to do things they hadn’t before. They started sending me on what they called ‘reconnaissance’ missions. I was supposed to scope out security for their targets. Robberies, mostly, probably to fund some project that I never got to see. I wasn’t meant to actually do anything, just… listen.
“And that wasn’t so bad, really. I mean, as long as I didn’t loiter for too long, it wasn’t actively dangerous. But then they started asking me to scope out specific people. Desperate people. People they could easily manipulate. People like me. After that, it was actually trying to recruit them. Then suddenly I wasn’t just scoping out jobs, I was participating in them. I was breaking into people’s homes and businesses and stealing whatever I could grab, all for the sake of less than an eighth of the value of whatever I took.”
Martyn’s eyes were turning shiny now, his breath shaky.
“You don’t have to keep going,” Scott said quietly. He was pretty sure he could figure out the rest. But now that Martyn had started, it was like he couldn’t stop. Like a dam bursting under the weight of what should have overflowed a long time ago.
“I hated it. I wanted out,” he confessed, as though he hadn’t even heard Scott. “But they wouldn’t let me leave. And I still needed the money, because Jimmy was getting worse. Even if I did go, I would never be able to find another job, much less one willing to pay me anything even close to what the Watchers were offering. I knew I’d still end up stealing, just… without their protection.” He sighed, mouth pinching. “I was trapped.”
Scott felt his blood boil. God, he’d only been fourteen when this started. Scott tried to remember what he’d been like at fourteen. A brat, probably. He was still a brat, but that was beside the point.
Martyn… He’d been a kid. Yet he’d been the only person keeping his little brother alive. And these despicable people had preyed on his vulnerability. They’d used him for all he was worth and he ended up with nothing.
“Well something clearly happened to change that, didn’t it?” Scott said in a tone he hoped was encouraging. “You’re here. You got away from them, didn’t you?”
“I thought I did,” Martyn muttered. There was another pause, and then he sighed. “I didn’t really leave. I just… ran one night. It all got to be too much.”
He looked over at Scott, as if trying to assess how much more he was willing to reveal. “It started out as just another burglary,” he said slowly. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Except it wasn’t some rich fucker who probably deserved it anyway, it was just a guy who lived on my street. He was a real nice person, too. Helped me out a few times when I was younger. Bought me and Jim cookies once.
“He wasn’t supposed to be home. He was supposed to be visiting family halfway across the country. But… we got the timing wrong, I guess. Maybe he was delayed, maybe his trip got canceled, I don’t know. I didn’t exactly have time to wonder why he was still in town. And when the others found out he was, it didn’t matter to them.” His eyes darted back to Scott. “They broke his leg so he couldn’t escape. Everyone was irritated, and since I was the one who had gotten the info on the house, they wanted me to… to…”
“No,” Scott whispered, horrified. He felt sick to his stomach.
“I didn’t do it,” Martyn rushed to say. “I couldn’t. I just stared at him. I had the knife in my hand, he was on the ground, everyone was egging me on. But I couldn’t do it. ” A noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob escaped the back of his throat. “It didn’t- it didn’t matter, in the end. They killed him anyway. And I just… ran. I never looked back.”
“And… your brother?” Scott regretted asking as soon as he said it. Martyn flinched, squeezing his eyes shut, and hid his face in his knees again. Stupid, Major. Real stupid. Why couldn’t he just leave it where it was? This was obviously a painful subject, and yet here he was, poking the wound. Why could he never just keep his mouth shut? “You don’t have to answer that.”
Still, “I don’t know,” came the muffled reply. “It was all such a panicked blur. I wasn’t thinking clearly, and then suddenly I’d fled the town. I was too scared to go back. I didn’t know what would happen to me if they found me again. I haven’t seen Jimmy in years. I don’t even know if he’s alive.”
Martyn fell silent, and all of a sudden the atmosphere grew thick enough to touch.
“I’m sorry,” Scott said again, but it felt woefully inadequate. He hadn’t been prepared to hear Martyn’s whole life story today. Had it really been less than an hour ago that they were at the festival, laughing and playing stupid, rigged carnival games and looking at pretty jewelry?
“What kind of person does that? Who abandons their dying brother? And for what? Because I was scared?” Martyn laughed, so full of self loathing that Scott could barely stand to listen to it. “And then on top of it all, I never came back! He’s going to spend the rest of his life wondering why I left him and I’m never going to have a good enough answer.”
“It-” Scott bit his lip. “It’s not your fault,” he offered weakly. It didn’t sound convincing even to himself.
Martyn snorted derisively, a clear indicator that he didn't believe it either. “It doesn’t even matter, because it was all for nothing. I came to the capital because I thought it’d be safe. I thought surely not even the Watchers would be bold enough to try and set up operations right under a monarchy’s nose. I don’t know why I thought that. In hindsight it’s kind of stupid, of course they’d have operatives here, but I just… I didn’t know where else to go. I got here and joined the guard and… and tried to forget about all of it.”
“I’m guessing… that’s not what happened,” Scott said slowly. Martyn lifted his head just enough to shake it and swipe at his eyes.
“At the festival. There were three of them. I didn’t get a good look at any of them, but on the inside of their jackets… I’d recognize the symbol anywhere. When I saw it… well, you know the rest.” Scott nodded. Martyn’s expression turned strange and unreadable. “I’ve never told anyone this before. I don’t think I’ve ever even said it out loud. I thought I was keeping it all together just fine, but now… Gods, I don’t know what to do anymore.”
He drew in a shuddery, deep breath, and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. Then, he lifted his chin towards Scott, wearing a tight lipped smile. Scott didn’t like the way his guard was looking at him. It was less the gaze of someone who trusted him, of a friendship three years in the making, and more reminiscent of when he and Martyn had first met. When Martyn was still afraid of him.
“So, Your Highness. There you have it.” Martyn’s eyes were empty. “I’ve laid the worst of myself bare before you. I am yours to decide what to do with.” He took Scott’s hand gently and bowed his head over it. He closed his eyes, a few tears slipping out and trailing down his face.
Scott’s mind was still reeling from all the new information. But this? He didn’t understand what was happening anymore. He knew the words coming out of Martyn’s mouth, he understood their meaning, but it didn’t make sense. What, exactly, was Martyn asking him to do?
“What—what are you talking about?” he asked, completely lost. He drew his hand away, the first time in their years together that he had been the one to withdraw from contact, especially when Martyn had been the one to initiate. But this was too formal, too much like how a normal guard treated him, and it felt so wrong. Martyn paused, glancing up at him in surprise, but quickly averted his gaze.
“I just mean that—I understand if, given what I have just revealed to you, you find that you no longer trust me.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Scott asked, shaking his head. It was as though his whole world had been flipped upside down. Martyn gave him an incredulous look.
“Your Highness—” he started, panic slipping into his tone. And then Scott understood.
Martyn had just confessed, of his own free will, to taking part in several serious crimes. He’d gone so far as to admit to being a former member of one of the biggest threats to Scott’s kingdom. Most in Scott’s position would probably call for his immediate arrest, maybe even execution. Or at the very least, removal from his position. But Scott didn’t even need to look at his guard to know that he wouldn’t be doing any of those things.
Martyn seemed to see the realization in his eyes. He moved away, nodding in acceptance to a verdict Scott had yet to give. “I’ll save you the trouble of dismissing me. I can only beg that you don't tell anyone what I’ve told you today.” Scott opened his mouth and Martyn seemed to panic, pushing forward. “I know you have an obligation to the king and queen, but please. If you let me go then I swear you will never see me again—”
“No!” Martyn flinched back at his volume. Scott reached out and grabbed both of Martyn’s hands. He tensed, as though expecting Scott to somehow pull shackles out of nowhere and bind his wrists, but Scott merely held them, brushing his thumbs along Martyn’s knuckles.
The thought of him leaving, especially after everything he’d just revealed, knowing that there could be people out there hunting for him, terrified Scott. “Don’t you dare . I have no intention of dismissing you or arresting you or anything else you might be thinking. Please don’t leave.”
Martyn’s apprehension remained, but his shoulders lowered just a fraction, and Scott smiled. “I have never doubted your devotion to my family. To me. I don’t care where you came from. I don’t care what you had to do to survive. You were a kid. They were the ones who took advantage of you. They are the ones at fault here, not you.”
“I—Your Highness…” Martyn drew his hands away, knocked off kilter by Scott’s outburst. “Why—”
“Because,” Scott interrupted. Martyn stiffened almost imperceptibly, his mouth tightening. “I know you, Marty. And I know that you are not a bad person. You’re kind, loyal, courageous. You risked everything for someone you loved. In the time we have been together you have always been there for me when I struggled, all while shouldering a burden heavier than anything I will likely ever know in my life.
“And I am so, so sorry that this happened to you, and that no one was there for you through it. But I swear on the graves of my ancestors, I am here now, and I will continue being here until you decide you don’t want me to be. There is nothing you could do to make me think less of you.”
“My—my brother—” Martyn protested, looking agitated and hopelessly confused in the face of Scott’s acceptance. “I left him behind—”
“To save your own life,” Scott said softly, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “Sometimes you have to put yourself first. Even if it hurts.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that alone.”
Martyn’s face crumpled, and then there were arms wrapped around Scott, squeezing so tight that the prince could barely breathe. He sobbed, burying his face into Scott’s shoulder, and Scott barely hesitated before returning the embrace. His whole body shook with his cries, no doubt ruining Scott’s shirt with tears and snot. But Scott decided he didn’t care. How could he?
Martyn was a quiet crier, almost as if he were trying to stifle it on purpose. It made sense, Scott supposed, in a horribly twisted sort of way. Martyn had been keeping secrets his whole life. To let his guard down, in his mind, was to sign his own death warrant.
A small part of Scott felt honored that Martyn was allowing him to see him like this. That he was no longer trying to push Scott away or hide his sorrow. He hoped that this meant Martyn really did trust him. He wondered how long it had been since Martyn had had someone he could trust.
The quiet around them was broken only by the soft sounds of Martyn’s grief. It didn’t last as long as it should have. Had it been up to Scott, they should have had all the time in the world here. Martyn deserved all the time in the world to mourn what he’d lost. This moment should have stretched on forever. But it didn’t.
The sound of a knock at the door had both of them startled, and then Martyn was removing his arms from Scott’s torso and pushing him away. Scott barely had time to feel a flicker of confusion before as the door opened, and the head of a servant poked in. Her eyes went back and forth between the two of them, still on the floor, before clearing her throat.
“Forgive me for the intrusion, Your Highness,” she said in a small voice, “but I was sent by your parents to remind you that you have dinner with them and Her Majesty, Queen Cleo in ten minutes.”
The dinner. Scott could almost slap himself. He’d completely forgotten about it. How had it gotten so late without his noticing? He opened his mouth to thank the servant and dismiss her, but hesitated, turning back to Martyn. His bodyguard was quick to hide any trace of his earlier emotion. If not for his red rimmed eyes, Scott never would have guessed that he’d been crying just moments before.
But that wasn’t right.
“Send my parents my apologies and tell them I won’t be attending dinner,” Scott informed the servant. Both her and Martyn’s eyes widened in tandem, jaw dropping ever so slightly.
“Your Highness—” the servant started, at the same time Martyn said “Absolutely not—” but Scott shook his head, folding his arms over his chest.
“I’m not going.” He turned to the servant. “Thank you for reminding me. You may go now.” The servant remained in the doorway for a few more stunned seconds, before nodding shallowly and slipping away. When he looked back at Martyn, he was on the receiving end of a narrow eyed glare.
“What?” Scott put on a small grin. Part of him was relieved to be back on familiar ground, rather than the emotional state he had been thoroughly unprepared to deal with. The other half silently mourned the loss of the intimate moment, and wondered how long it would be before Martyn allowed himself another like it.
“Your Highness, you can’t skip this dinner on my behalf,” Martyn hissed, pushing himself to sit up a bit straighter.
“Why not?” Scott asked, spreading his arms out wide. “It’s just one dinner. This is far more important to me.”
“Your parents, for one thing. They won’t be pleased with you,” Martyn said, sounding somewhere between irritated and pleading. Scott shrugged. He knew that, and it didn’t really bother him.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he pointed out. “Besides, I’m sure Cleo, Scar, and Bdubs are able to keep them entertained just as well with or without me.” His parents would probably ground him for a month when they found out. But it wasn’t like that had ever stopped him before. “I’ll make it up to them later.”
“Your Highness-”
“Nope, nuh uh, not listening.” Scott lifted his chin and turned away haughtily. Martyn let out a growl of frustration, and then there was a hand on his chin pulling his face back to look at him. Scott’s heart stuttered.
“ Scott, ” Martyn ground out. The sound of his name on Martyn’s lips suddenly left Scott breathless, all of his fight draining away in an instant. “If it is discovered that I am the reason that you missed dinner, who do you think is going to take the fall?”
That brought Scott up short. Martyn let him go, having clearly made his point, and sat back, one eyebrow raised. Scott’s hand ghosted over the spot where Martyn had grabbed him, feeling his face flush.
Oh, not this again. Get a hold of yourself before he notices.
“I wouldn’t let anything happen to you,” Scott said after taking a deep breath. “I’d take the blame.”
“I have no doubt you would try, ” Martyn replied. “But you’re a prince, Your Highness. The most you’d get is a stern talk from your parents, and maybe a grounding, which we both know means practically nothing to you. But me? I’m a commoner. I don’t have a noble family to protect me from the king and queen’s wrath. So if they find out that you skipped dinner in order to spend time with me, who do you think will be in more trouble?”
Scott clenched his hands. Martyn was right, of course. He was always right. He was an outsider, even to the rest of the castle staff. A stranger from outside the capital whom no one knew anything about. There were few whose positions were more precarious. And as Scott’s personal guard, he was already watched more closely than most of the castle staff.
Really, the only thing that let him keep his job was that Scott, for all Martyn protested to the contrary, was actually careful not to be missed when he snuck out. Sure, he’d messed up a couple times and stayed out longer than he meant to. His parents certainly weren’t pleased with his “habit” of “occasionally” slipping away, but they didn’t nearly know the true extent of it.
But skipping a dinner with foreign royalty? That was sure to be noticed. Even if it were just with a close ally such as Queen Cleo, Martyn was right. Scott’s parents would be furious, and Martyn would suffer the consequences in his place.
He crossed his arms, lips thinning. “I just don’t want you to be alone right now,” he admitted, staring at the floorspace between the two of them. “Not after… all of that.”
Martyn’s eyes flashed, and he swiped at his nose, turning his head to the side. Scott could have sworn he caught the edge of a smile, and a red tint to his sun tanned skin before his face disappeared from view. He did his best to ignore the way his heart jumped to his throat, and quashed the hope fluttering in his stomach like a butterfly.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Martyn muttered. “But I’ll be fine on my own. I’ve made it this far, after all.”
Scott frowned. He didn’t like that. But Martyn wasn’t looking at him anymore, which was about as close to a dismissal as he could get from the guard. So he sighed and stood up, quickly switching out his tear drenched “commoner” outfit for something more appropriate for a formal dinner, a stiff white shirt and a blue satin vest. Martyn politely covered his eyes, face scarlet at Scott’s lack of modesty.
He ran his fingers through his tangled hair to undo the worst of the knots, stuck on a pair of earrings and a ring or two, looked himself up and down in the mirror, and decided it was as good as it was going to get. Dragging his feet only slightly, he headed for the door.
Gripping the doorknob, he paused. He bit the inside of his cheek and turned back to Martyn. “If…” he began, “I meant what I said, you know. I’m here, if you ever need anything. I…” he trailed off, eyes darting to the side. “I’m here,” he repeated lamely, and resisted the urge to cringe.
Martyn met his eyes, his expression softer than Scott had ever seen it. He nodded. “I appreciate that,” he said, voice inexplicably gentle. “Really.”
Dinner was about what he expected. Normally, Scott quite enjoyed Cleo and her sons’ company. But with his parents always looming in the background, there was little else they could do besides polite smalltalk over inane topics they’d rehearsed and repeated a thousand times. The sheer boredom was eating away at all of them. By the end of it, Scott was sure everyone, save for maybe his parents, were dying to leave.
The whole time, he still couldn’t stop worrying about Martyn. He wouldn’t consider his guard emotionless by any measure, but the image of him sobbing into Scott’s shirt was, unsurprisingly, entirely new to him. He was sure the memory would be forever burned into his brain.
On top of that, there were also the implications of Martyn’s story to think about as well. Scott had already decided that no one else needed to know about his guard’s tenure with the Watchers. But that didn’t change the fact that there were Watchers in the capital, which could not be a good sign. What if one of them did end up recognizing Martyn? Scott had a lot of power as a prince, but even he couldn’t protect Martyn if his past was exposed.
He’d have to figure out a way to bring this to Xornoth discreetly. He was sure his older brother would be far more amenable to helping without requiring all of the details or the name of the “source.” He also really wanted to run back to his room and find Martyn again. But he couldn’t without seeming “rude,” and so he was stuck slowly picking at food that he really didn’t feel like eating.
“This has been lovely,” Cleo eventually said, taking pity on the lot of them. By then, Scott had resorted to drawing smiley faces in the sauce on his plate. She looked highly amused by this. “Thank you for inviting us, Your Majesties. I look forward to discussing the renewal of our trading contract more in depth with you both tomorrow. But, with your permission, I think my sons and I would like to retire for the night.”
Scar and Bdubs both nodded vigorously. Xornoth sat up straighter at the prospect of being able to finally leave, and it took all of Scott’s willpower not to get up and bolt that instant, gripping his fork so hard he could feel the metal bending under his grip.
Scott’s mother inclined her head. “Of course, Your Majesty. Have a good night.” Scott watched as Cleo and her sons got up from their seats and left the room. He waited until he had been dismissed by his parents before carefully standing up, wishing his family a hasty good night, and walking calmly out the door. Then, as soon as the door was shut behind him, he breathed in slowly, and sprinted down the hallway.
He got several startled looks and shouts from various castle staff he ran past, a few guards calling out to make sure everything was okay. He barely even bothered with a response.
He careened through the west wing of the castle and skidded to a stop in front of the door to his chambers Throwing it open, he stopped short at the sight of an empty room. Martyn, it seemed, had left in the time Scott had been at dinner, taking both of the cloaks they had worn into the city with him.
Scott tried not to let himself feel too disappointed. Of course Martyn wasn’t going to just sit there waiting for him to return for over an hour. He’d probably want some privacy after the day’s events. Maybe he was feeling embarrassed for breaking down in front of his prince. Or maybe he was just tired. There were plenty of reasons why he wouldn’t want to stick around.
Scott closed the door and bit his lip. He couldn’t say he blamed Martyn for turning in early for the night. The sun was barely set, and yet Scott felt exhausted. Outside his window, he could see the lanterns in the streets being lit, the festivities continuing into the evening. The stall runners and shopkeepers would be packing up, and most of the children would be heading to bed. But as for the rest of the townsfolk, a long night of drinking lay ahead of them.
Ugh. If there was one thing Scott didn’t envy about the festival goers, it was the massive hangovers they’d all be nursing by the morning.
Scott laughed at the thought and shook his head, beginning the process of undressing. He unbuttoned his vest, shucking it off and tossing it over his bed frame. He started loosening the collar of his shirt and unbuttoning the sleeves, sauntering from the window to his bed as he did so.
He grabbed his collar, preparing to take the shirt off, but paused at the sight of something unfamiliar in his periphery. There, on his pillow, was a small black box that hadn’t been there when he’d left.
Where had that come from? Scott let go of his shirt and cautiously reached out, picking it up and weighing it in his hand. Whatever was inside was light, and shifted a bit as he shook it gently. Deeming it… probably safe, or at least not likely to kill him immediately just by looking at it, he cracked it open ever so slightly, peering inside with one eye, and gasped.
He quickly tossed aside the lid, and suddenly found himself staring at the leather bracelet from the market. He’d completely forgotten about it in the chaos of fleeing the festival and sneaking back into the castle. Scott ran one finger reverently along the pattern embedded into it, and then brushed along the sea glass in the center. A smile broke out on his face, and he removed the bracelet from its box entirely, slipping it onto his wrist.
He felt giddy. A small laugh escaped him, and he spun around, flopping onto his bed and sinking into the soft mattress. Holding up his hand, he studied the dark color of the leather against his pale skin. It truly was the most lovely thing he owned.
A small piece of paper had fluttered out from the discarded box. Scott picked it up, unfolding it and seeing Martyn’s familiar, shaky handwriting on the inside.
I had fun today.