Chapter Text
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Scott whirled around, wide eyed, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Martyn leaned against the doorframe, ankles crossed with a stern look on his face that held just the slightest hint of amusement.
Scott, meanwhile, had one foot out the window and a hand on the ledge. He offered a sheepish smile, faltering when Martyn gave him no reaction.
“Okay, I know this looks bad—”
“It looks, ” Martyn interrupted flatly, “like you’re trying to sneak out again.” He pushed himself upright and sauntered into the room, one hand on his sword. Sometimes Scott wondered if his hand was glued to that thing, since he always seemed to clutch the handle like his life depended on it.
Scott groaned and swung his leg back inside. He sat down on the windowsill, folding his arms over his chest. “You’re no fun,” he complained petulantly.
“Need I remind you, Your Highness, that your family is entertaining Queen Cleo and her sons tonight?” Martyn asked pointedly, coming to a stop in front of Scott with a raised eyebrow. “You are expected to be there, you know. I doubt Her Majesty will take very kindly to you ditching her for whatever adventure you’ve gotten into your head to go on this time.”
“Cleo wouldn’t mind,” Scott shot back. He leaned back, a jolt of panic running through him as he went a touch too far, and scrambled to sit back up before he fell out the fifth story window. He saw Martyn jerk forward with a half aborted hand reaching out to catch him should he need it. “She doesn’t care about that kind of stuff,” he said quickly, before Martyn could scold him.
“But your parents certainly do,” Martyn said, stepping forward and holding out a hand. Scott pouted for another moment, but reluctantly let himself be pulled back in. His bodyguard reached behind him and closed the window. “Where did you even plan to go, anyway?”
Scott felt a flush of shame, and pulled his shoulders up to his ears. Martyn’s gaze didn’t relent, nor did he retract the question, so Scott sighed. “I was…” he muttered the rest, too indistinct for even himself to make out the words.
“What was that?”
Scott scowled. “I was going to go down to the festival, okay?” He huffed and pushed past Martyn, crossing the room and flopping back onto his bed. “Are you happy now?”
“You were there this morning,” Martyn pointed out.
“But that was the opening ceremony! I didn’t actually get to do anything. I just sat in a big fancy chair and listened to a million people I don’t know give speeches, and then we went straight home!” Not that he hadn’t protested the whole carriage ride back. He was sure his parents and especially his older brother were sick of him by the end of it.
Martyn came over to the edge of the bed, hovering but not making any move to sit. Scott rolled his eyes and grasped his hand, pulling him down onto the plush mattress. Honestly, three years and he still acted like it was the most sinful thing in the world to touch anything of Scott’s. Including Scott himself.
As soon as he was down on the bed, Martyn tugged his hand away, recoiling as though he had been burned. He tucked the hand close to his chest, and turned his back to Scott, hiding his expression. Scott tried to ignore how that stung.
“You could just ask to go down, you know,” Martyn continued after a moment. “I’m sure your parents wouldn’t deny you.”
“No, they wouldn’t,” and if they did, his brother certainly wouldn’t. “But then I’d just go down there and it would all be ‘yes, Your Highness,’ ‘no, Your Highness,’ ‘Forgive me, Your Highness.’ They’d all be scrambling out of the way and letting me win their games and giving me all these things for free. Well—okay, that last one isn’t so bad, but still! How am I meant to enjoy myself when everyone is treating me like—like—” He struggled to find the proper way to say it.
“An overly sensitive, spoiled, arrogant brat?” Martyn filled in. The corners of his lips twitched upward.
“Well I wouldn’t put it like that, ” Scott said, glaring, but there was no real anger behind it. His bodyguard, for someone so sworn to his duty, didn’t seem particularly worried about offending his prince. “But… yeah, basically.”
“I find it hard to believe that bothers you so much,” Martyn said. “Given how much you love to remind people of your position at every available opportunity.”
Scott felt his cheeks flush. His bodyguard wasn’t wrong. Scott did like to flex his prince status frequently, mostly in the face of a member of the aristocracy who was getting a little too comfortable with him for his taste.
“I mean…” How did he put this in a way that made sense? “Yes, I do like being treated like a prince most of the time. But that’s around nobles. ” People who were not quite on equal footing with him, but about as close as they could get to it. Scott sat up and brought his knees up to his chest. “It’s different with commoners. I don’t want them to be… scared of me.”
As much as he pretended otherwise, he was all too aware of the power he had over others. He could never quite decide if it was a blessing or a curse. But as he stared at Martyn’s golden bangs, long and always flopping in his face despite his headband, he felt as though he were leaning towards curse.
Martyn snorted fondly. “While I understand the sentiment, Your Highness, you cannot just run off whenever you please. Your disappearances cause your parents no small amount of stress,” he chided. Like Scott was a small child who needed to be kept under constant surveillance.
Scott shook off the bitter taste in his mouth.
“Oh come on,” he hummed, bouncing right back from his solemn moment. “I’d be back before dinner! No one would even know I was gone.”
“That’s what you said the last time, and then you came home twenty gold coins poorer and wearing someone else’s cloak.” Martyn grinned at Scott’s indignant spluttering.
“That wasn’t my fault!” It absolutely was, but Martyn didn’t need to know that. He knew he shouldn’t have trusted that boy in the market. It had been too good to be true. He’d been so distracted by the other shoving his tongue down his throat that he hadn’t even noticed the hand reaching into his pocket and taking his coin bag until he was already home.
“Oh, and the time before that you came back covered from head to toe in mud.”
“I was pushed!”
“And the time before that, you—”
“Okay, okay!” Scott’s face was burning, the tips of his ears bright red. “I get it! You don’t have to keep going.”
Martyn laughed smugly, eyes shining with something indescribable, which did not help at all. Scott hated that look. He hated that Martyn always wore it when he’d won, or when he turned out to be right, which was often. He hated how good it looked on him, how well it fit his face, as though it were always meant to be there. He hated how it made his stomach flutter and his heart beat faster every time he saw it.
He hated that it made him feel this way knowing that nothing could ever come of it.
“Look, it’s just for a few hours. I just want to go out, get some food, play a few games, and then come straight home. That’s it!” Scott spread his hands out in front of him to emphasize. Martyn raised an eyebrow, thoroughly unimpressed, and Scott resisted the urge to sigh again. He really hadn’t wanted to do this.
He leaned over, setting his hand down next to Martyn’s so that their fingers just barely brushed. Martyn stiffened at the contact, turning his head only to find that Scott’s face was now inches from his, putting on his best puppy eyes.
“Come on,” he pleaded. Martyn’s eyes widened, life flashing before them. The tips of his ears turned red. Scott dialed it up to eleven, lowering his voice and adding just a touch of a whine. “Please?”
Martyn’s breath caught in his throat. “Y-you’ll get us both in trouble,” he protested weakly, trying to loosen his collar with his finger. His resolve was wavering, Scott could tell. Just a little more…
“I won’t tell if you don’t.” He winked. He could see the exact moment when Martyn folded, and cheered internally.
“Fine,” Martyn huffed, and Scott grinned. “But,” he held up a hand, “I’m coming with you.”
What!?
Scott opened his mouth to protest, but Martyn cut him off. “This is non-negotiable, Your Highness. If you’re going to insist on going out into the middle of a crowded area without your parents’ knowledge, then you need some form of protection.”
Scott snorted. “What, do you think someone’s going to try to assassinate me in a festival no one even knows I’m at?” The look on Martyn’s face said that that was exactly what he expected to happen. Scott rolled his eyes, but acquiesced. “Fine.” He knew how to pick his battles.
Martyn seemed satisfied with his agreement. “We’ll need disguises. I’ll go see what I can find.” He stood up and started to leave, but when he reached the door, he stopped. “Don’t jump out the window while I’m gone.”
Scott gave him his most innocent smile that he knew would fool most people, but not Martyn. Martyn eyed him suspiciously for another few moments, before pulling the door open and stepping out.
As soon as he was gone, Scott slumped over and looked at the window. He really did think about it. If nothing else, it would be really funny. But… it would be nice to have someone to enjoy the festival with, instead of just going alone. He would have gone with Xornoth, but they were too busy to do anything with him these days.
Besides, he knew Martyn could be a little… overly mistrustful. If this would put his mind at ease, Scott didn’t mind. It was better than the time he’d tried to convince Scott to carry a knife around with him everywhere he went.
When Martyn came back, it was with two cloaks, plain in design and lacking any of the decor Scott usually would have preferred. Then again, he understood the intention. No crest and no guard insignia meant that they wouldn’t stand out in the crowd.
One of the cloaks was tossed to him, and he shrieked as it hit him in the face. By the time he had gotten it untangled enough to throw it around his shoulders and close the clasp, Martyn had already gotten his on and was waiting by the door.
“Well?” Scott said, spinning around. “How do I look?”
Martyn studied him for a moment. “Draw your hood up.” Scott blinked, taken aback as always by the unusually blunt nature of his knight in shining armor. Still, he complied, and flipped his hood over his head. Martyn sighed as though irritated, but there was a warm gleam in his eyes. “It’ll do. Just… try not to draw too much attention to yourself, okay?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Scott replied. Martyn raised an eyebrow, which, okay fair, but all the same he turned away and motioned for Scott to follow him into the hall.
“Let’s go.”
The town square was alive with activity. Bright streamers and colorful lights had been strung between the buildings. Ribbons were tied around every streetlamp they passed. People were dancing, singing, and laughing, welcoming in Spring with style. There were children running about, chasing one another with sticks. Games and makeshift market stalls had been positioned all around the edges, displaying their wares for the partygoers to peruse.
And of course, there were flowers everywhere.
The florists in charge of decorations had really gone all out this year. Everywhere Scott looked, he could see arrangements spewing from every window box, crate, vase, and whatever other containers were lying about. There was a whole congregation of stalls dedicated to purchasing bouquets, and a group of people sat together by the fountain, weaving the blossoms into crowns.
Scott could get lost in the ambience of the festival. He felt lighter, like an invisible weight was lifted off his shoulders. There were no rules here. None of the strict “proper etiquette” that must be followed. No cold and heartless aristocracy that judged his every move. No cordial, forced small talk and thinly veiled hostility. Everyone here seemed so joyful.
Despite the lively atmosphere, however, Martyn remained glued to his side, eyeing the crowd warily. Scott wondered what was up with him. Why was he so tense? This was a celebration!
“Come on, loosen up,” he said softly, nudging the guard with his elbow. “This is supposed to be fun.”
“I find it hard to have fun when we are surrounded by strangers,” Martyn muttered. His head swiveled around, scanning the people closest to them. “You have no idea who could be hiding out here. We wouldn’t even notice them until it was too late.”
“ Or, ” Scott countered, “They wouldn’t even notice us until it was too late. It goes both ways, Marty. What are the odds that some guy with a grudge is going to be able to pick out two random people actively concealing their identity in a crowd of hundreds? ” Despite his quite convincing argument, Martyn didn’t seem reassured. His eyes kept darting around, fingers twitching. Scott glanced down and saw he had a tight grip on the hilt of his sword. He seemed… less cautious, more… paranoid.
He bumped his shoulder against Martyn’s. “Hey, what’s got you so nervous?” he asked softly. “I know you don’t like that I’m here, but I promise I’m not going to try anything stupid.” For all his teasing, he didn’t really want to scare Martyn.
Martyn looked over at him, and his gaze softened, some of the panic dissipating. “I’ll just feel a whole lot better once we’re back at the palace and away from here.”
Scott frowned. Something about this place was making Martyn antsy.
“Is it all the people?” he asked hesitantly. “If you’re getting overwhelmed, we can leave. I know that it’s really crowded and-”
“It’s not the people,” Martyn assured him. He chewed on his lip. “I’m alright, Your Highness. Don’t worry about me. You said that you wanted to come here, so I’ll stay with you for as long as you want to remain.”
Scott hesitated. “Are you sure?”
Martyn nodded. “Positive.”
A part of Scott wanted to leave anyways, festival be damned. Maybe this had been a bad idea, if Martyn was this nervous about it. But the determined set in Martyn’s eyes said that he’d already made up his mind, and the last thing Scott wanted to do was make decisions for him.
Was there anything he could say that would reassure him?
“We’ll be fine,” he tried, gently touching Martyn’s elbow. It didn’t feel like enough, but it was all he could think of. “We’ve got nothing to worry about, okay?”
Did he know that for certain? Of course not. But he would say anything to make that horrible tension in Martyn’s frame go away. Truly, he didn’t think there was anything to worry about. This festival was beloved to his people. Anyone who tried to disrupt it would not be looked upon kindly by others.
Martyn took a deep breath, gave one last glance at the crowds, and slowly released his grip on his sword’s handle. “You’re right,” he said, smiling unconvincingly. “I’m sorry, I just…” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“You’re fine, really.” A moment passed, then two. Then Scott’s face started to burn again, so he turned away and clapped his hands together. “So, what should we do first?”
First, it seemed, were the games. They meandered about, attempting and failing miserably to win any of the prizes hung up as enticement. Scott tried a ring toss and did so poorly he nearly hit the stall runner’s head with one of the wooden rings, and knocked over a vase. Martyn had tried his hand at a dart game, but despite hitting the balloons dead on, none of them would pop. They had mutually agreed that that one, if not the other one as well, was rigged.
Martyn ended up paying for them, since as it turns out, Scott had left his coin pouch back in his room. It was embarrassing, and he promised over and over to pay Martyn back when they returned. The guard agreed, but didn’t seem all that bothered about it.
As the day wore on, Martyn seemed to forget his earlier apprehension. His shoulders relaxed. His expression became less guarded. He started laughing more. Scott watched the transformation with a smile. This was a side of Martyn he so rarely got to see in full. The most he usually got were glimpses hidden in a snarky remark, an eye roll, or quiet snort. It was mesmerizing to watch.
After getting their fill of games, they wandered over to the food stands. Martyn paid for a couple of lamb skewers, and after minimal begging on Scott’s part, a few pastries for them to split as dessert.
As they ate, a little girl with daisies braided into her hair and a basket full of flowers came up to them and offered Scott a cornflower. He accepted it with a smile so wide his cheeks began to hurt, waving as she skipped away towards someone else to give them a flower as well.
“How sweet,” Martyn commented as he finished off his skewer, tossing it into a nearby trash can. “Good color, too. It matches your eyes.”
They both froze as soon as he said it. Scott’s eyes widened, and Martyn looked mortified, like he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. It didn’t take long, though, before Scott’s shock melted into a grin, and he put a hand on his chest.
“Aww, you do care,” he teased. He expected Martyn to clap back with some variation of “shut up,” but instead his bodyguard’s head turned away, and he coughed into his fist.
“Was that ever in question?”
Scott’s face warmed.
He didn’t mean it like that, Major. You're his prince. It’s his job to protect you. Don’t get your hopes up.
He looked down at the flower in his hands.
Don’t break your own heart again.
Scott reached up and tucked the cornflower behind Martyn’s ear. The deep blue contrasted nicely against his golden locks. Martyn started, face whipping back around to Scott in shock.
“There you are. Now you have a reminder of my eyes wherever you go.” His tone was lighthearted, likely he was making a joke. But secretly, he hoped that Martyn would be reminded of Scott’s eyes whenever he looked at the flower. The same way he saw Martyn’s hair in every golden coin he owned.
After lunch, the two of them looked around at the items for sale. They weren’t so much shopping as they were aimlessly wandering, until something caught Scott’s eye.
He immediately grabbed onto Martyn’s hand and dragged him over, towards a jeweler who was displaying various necklaces, bracelets, and rings. They were different from what Scott was used to. Instead of rubies and diamonds and silver, she used bits and pieces of stained glass. They caught the light dazzlingly, practically glowing under the sun and casting the table in an array of colors.
There was one in particular that he was drawn to. A bracelet with a rounded, gold rimmed piece of seaglass as a centerpiece, set into a braided leather band. Each of the three strips of leather had a design intricately pressed into it, painted in gold dust, reminiscent of the bubbles and waves of the oceans. It was fairly simple, especially compared to the elaborate crowns and necklaces he was used to wearing. He loved it.
Scott reached for his money, but belatedly remembered that he didn’t have any on him. Staying his hand, he glanced over at Martyn, but quickly dismissed the thought. Martyn had already paid for him several times today. Even if he was going to pay him back later, it felt unfair to ask this of him.
“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to hand this over to me now, and I could come back and pay for it later?” he asked the shopkeeper, pointing down at the bracelet. Martyn leaned over his shoulder to see what he was pointing at.
The shopkeep shook her head. “Nice try, kid. I don’t give out stuff for free.” Scott bit back an irritated retort. He didn’t like being denied.
You’d give it to me if you knew who I was.
But she didn’t know, and the whole point of this trip was to stay under the radar. For all she knew, he could be trying to rob her blind. Besides, hadn’t he said to Martyn that the whole reason he wanted to be incognito was so that he could be treated like everyone else? That included the good, with the bad, whether he liked it or not.
So he grinned. “Well, it was worth a shot,” and both of them laughed it off.
He lingered on the bracelet for another minute or so, before forcing himself to look away and look at the stalls next to them. There was a person selling children’s books to the left, and someone with woven shawls to the right. None of it looked particularly interesting to Scott, but he saw that the group of people braiding flower crowns was still there.
He tugged on Martyn’s sleeve. His guard glanced up, a questioning look on his face. He pointed to the people by the fountain silently. Martyn barely glanced over before returning his attention back to the jewelry. He seemed lost in thought.
“You should go ahead, I just want to check out one or two more things,” he muttered distractedly.
Scott furrowed his brow. That was… unlike Martyn. His eyes drifted down to see what it was that had him so captivated, and saw that he was still staring at the bracelet. Did he want it for himself? Scott never took him for a jewelry person.
Or… did he want it for someone else? Scott felt his heart clench. He didn’t think that Martyn had anyone special, or if he did he never talked about them. But then again… he didn’t know that for sure, did he? The thought made him grow quiet, tucking his hands close to his chest.
“Uh… yeah, sounds good.” He walked away quickly, trying not to let it get to him. He didn’t know that for sure. He didn’t even know if Martyn wanted the bracelet anyway, or if he just happened to be looking at it. Or maybe he really did just want to buy it for himself. He hadn’t done anything to even suggest that there was someone else in the picture.
And so what if there was? It didn’t change anything. Scott already knew that nothing would come out of this little crush of his. He just has to learn to get over these things. Martyn didn’t owe him anything, much less reciprocated feelings.
Besides, that wasn’t even touching on their social statuses. Scott was a prince. One wrong move could completely ruin Martyn’s life forever. One night stands were one thing, and those were risky enough. But what he wanted went so far beyond that. If anyone ever discovered his feelings, regardless of whether or not he acted on them, Martyn’s position, if not his life, were as good as forfeit.
Relationships with him were dangerous. It was why, for all his gallivanting around, he’d never actually had a serious romance. And it was why he and Martyn could never be anything more than friends.
The little girl who had given him the cornflower earlier was now sitting by the fountain with the others, braiding another girl’s hair. She smiled when she saw him approaching, and waved him over. He smiled back and sat down next to her, observing as she expertly weaved the stems of tiny daisies into who he assumed was her older sister’s locks.
“Hey, Mister,” she said, not even looking up. “Where’s your flower?”
“Oh, I… gave it to my friend,” Scott replied, glancing back over to the jewelry stall. He frowned, noting that Martyn was no longer standing by it. Huh. Where had he gone?
“That’s nice,” the girl said distractedly. “You two must be really close.” She nodded wisely, sure of herself in the way that only a child could ever be. It was adorable.
“We are,” Scott affirmed. At least, he would certainly hope they were. He hoped that Martyn didn’t find him unbearable all the time. He rubbed the back of his neck.
“Are you in love with him?” Scott just about choked on his spit. He snapped his head down to the girl, who paused in her braiding to grin. “Cuz your face is really red right now.” Scott reached up and touched his cheek distantly, noting that it was indeed quite hot. He swallowed.
“N-no,” he tried, although it felt like he was talking around a rock in his throat. “I’m just sunburnt.” It was a terrible lie, but thankfully, the girl didn’t question it.
She shrugged, said “Okay,” and tied off the final braid. She looked over her work with a sense of satisfaction, before turning back to Scott again. “Do you want me to do yours next?”
He thought about it. His hair only reached his shoulders, but it would be enough to do something with it. He reached up to comb his fingers through it, but the back of his hand brushed his hood, and he was reminded of why taking it off, for any reason, would be a bad idea.
“That’s alright, I’m fine.” He pulled his hood a little lower. “I’d prefer if people didn’t see me right now.”
The girl gave him a quizzical look. “Why?”
“Because I’m not supposed to be here.” Scott grinned and held a finger to his lips, winking. “Promise to keep my secret?”
The girl’s eyes widened, and she nodded vigorously. Scott laughed, and started looking around for Martyn. As his eyes swept over the masses of people, an inkling of concern formed in the back of his mind. He didn’t see his bodyguard anywhere.
Granted, it was crowded, and Martyn was wearing a cloak. But as Scott strained his eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of his companion, he could see nothing. He stood up slowly, continuing to flick his gaze from one person to the next, uncertainty steadily growing as he searched. Where was he?
Scott started to feel a bit nervous. He walked back towards the jewelry stall, hoping that maybe the owner would’ve seen where he’d gone. It suddenly felt as though someone were staring at him, invisible eyes pressing in on all sides. He quickened his pace.
The stall runner wordlessly pointed in the direction Martyn had gone when she saw him coming, her brow twitching in curiosity and concern as she took in his bloodless expression. Scott nodded to her gratefully and hurried off, head darting from side to side for any sign of Martyn’s blonde hair. His heart was really pounding now, and his breaths were coming short and fast.
Oh gods, where was he? Why had Scott thought it a good idea to leave his side? There were so many people here, had he not stopped for even one moment to think that maybe one of them could have been lost in the crowd?
A hand darted out and grabbed his wrist. Before he could even process it, he was yanked into an alleyway, his back pressed up against his assailant and an arm wrapped across his chest like an iron bar. Scott tried to scream, but a large, calloused hand covered his mouth, muffling the sound. He struggled, kicking and writhing, but his attacker held firm.
“Relax, it’s just me,” a voice whispered in his ear. Relief flooded through Scott’s veins, so potent his knees went weak. Martyn released him, but grabbed onto his forearms to steady him when his legs buckled.
“Don’t scare me like that,” Scott said with a shaky smile and laugh. His bodyguard had the decency to look guilty, withdrawing his hands as though it hurt to touch him. “What was that for? Couldn’t you just get my attention like a normal person?”
“I apologize, Your Highness,” Martyn spoke in a low voice, bowing his head. He glanced out at the opening of the alley, as if to make sure no one else was there. “But we need to leave. Now.”
Scott’s nose scrunched. “What? Why on Earth would we do that?” Weren’t they having the time of their lives just a few minutes ago?
Martyn shook his head. “It—it’s difficult to explain. But we have got to go.” Scott scowled irritably. Already? They didn’t have to be back at the palace for at least another hour or so. Maybe more if he really hurried to get ready for the dinner. They’d been enjoying themselves, hadn’t they? Why the sudden insistence on their departure?
He opened his mouth to protest, but Martyn sucked in a shuddery breath, making him pause. The guard’s face was pale. One hand was shaking, clenching and unclenching over and over. There were small, crescent shaped indents in his palms from his nails. The other was back to gripping the hilt of his sword, knuckles white. He looked scared. No, not scared, terrified.
“Martyn, what’s going on?” Scott had never seen him like this. His bodyguard could be cagey and anxious, but it had never been this bad before. He looked three seconds away from bolting. “Tell me.”
Martyn looked over at him, and Scott could see the conflict in his eyes. His duty to Scott, his prince, and his desire to keep his secrets to himself battled it out behind his frightened gaze.
Because the thing was, despite having known him for three years, Scott barely knew anything about Martyn’s life outside the palace. The man was extremely private, and unusually touchy when it came to anything personal. He kept everything about his past especially close to his chest, so much so that Scott didn’t even know his birthday.
It was the behavior of someone with something to hide. Scott wasn’t an idiot, he’d known there was something shifty about Martyn right from the beginning. Even beyond his mysterious origins, Scott could list any number of suspicious behaviors his bodyguard probably didn’t think anyone had taken notice of.
Like his tendency to sneak out at ungodly times in the night, although ironically the only reason Scott knew this was because he would also sneak out at ungodly times in the night. Or how most of the castle staff would whisper behind his back, staring at him with mistrust and, when they thought Scott wasn’t looking, barely concealed contempt. Scott knew Martyn was a stick in the mud at times, but he still thought it was a bit unreasonable. He wasn’t that unlikeable.
He’d never pried out of respect for Martyn’s privacy. The man had always done his job exactly as he was expected to, so what did Scott have to complain about? Whatever it was he was hiding about himself, he had a right to that, and besides. He knew that Martyn came from humble beginnings, to say the least. He’d never been told outright, but it had been clear as day from the first time they’d met that the world had not been kind to him.
Everything from the state of his clothes to his sunken cheeks and dark eye bags suggested a life full of struggle. So who cared if he was taking a few more coins than his salary provided, or pawning off stolen jewelry or something like that? It wasn’t like Scott’s family couldn’t afford it.
But this time, it was different. If this was something that could potentially endanger the both of them, Scott felt as though he had a right to know. Maybe not all the details, but a summary, at least. Something to explain why Martyn had suddenly gone from on edge but mostly contained, to full blown panic.
He narrowed his eyes, boring into Martyn’s skull. The blond hesitated, but still looked uncertain. So Scott dropped the glare, letting his concern shine through. The other man crumpled. Pain and some other unreadable emotion overtook the terror that had seemed so consuming just moments ago.
“Don’t give me that,” he huffed, a laugh dying on his lips. Scott gave no response, and after a few moments Martyn groaned exasperatedly. “Alright, alright. It’s just that there are some people here that I was really hoping to avoid. There could be a lot of trouble if any of them found out I was here.”
That… didn’t answer any of Scott’s questions. If anything, it only produced more. Slightly irritating, but Martyn held up a hand before he could complain.
“I know, I know. I’ll explain more, but only once we get back to the palace. It’s not safe out here for either of us right now.” Scott found himself taken aback by the raw emotion in Martyn’s voice. “Please, just trust me, Your Highness,” he begged.
Scott’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, at a complete loss for words. But Martyn was looking at him in a way he never had before, in a way that made him squirm uncomfortably, and he moved before he had really thought it through.
He slipped his hand into Martyn’s, keeping it loose in case the other was too uncomfortable. Martyn stiffened, but didn’t pull away, and after a few moments gave Scott’s hand a light squeeze. Scott gave him a small, slightly saddened smile in return.
“You know I trust you,” he murmured. “Alright, let’s get out of here. But you owe me a proper explanation when we get back.”