Chapter 2

“Your highness,” gasped Jackson when he noticed the prince slide out cautiously from behind the servant’s door that had been the designated meeting place. Jackson threw decorum to the wind and grasped Mark’s wrist so that he could hiss into the prince’s ear, “I said to wear peasant clothes.”

While others may have to resort to a shrug to communicate their lack of concern for what the other had said, Mark had mastered the way to communicate using his eyes so all he did was look at Jackson and Jackson knew what the prince was thinking. Perhaps it was also the slightly raised ‘who are you to question me’ eyebrow that made Jackson bite back a sigh of frustration. “Your royal highness,” Jackson tried again, willing his voice to calm down and not sound so accusatory but really, the prince was really trying his nerves at that point, “you’re meant to be in disguise. This,” Jackson said, gesturing to the sheen of velvet of Mark’s surcoat that showed off the finely woven linen of his undershirt, “is not a disguise.”

Again, Mark gave Jackson that quelling look. “I have nothing else,” he commented, the natural aloofness in his tone was there in spite of the fact that Mark was really stating the obvious. These were the oldest, most threadbare clothes he had. These were clothes that he would never wear to court or even as daily attire around the castle. Besides, the only alternative was to borrow clothes and since this was meant to be kept a secret, he could not ask anyone. The only person who knew he was leaving the castle that night was Jackson and for some reason that Mark did not want to explore, he did not feel comfortable wearing Jackson’s clothes.

Jackson clenched his teeth in response. He had had an inkling that the prince was going to difficult and though he had been right, he wasn’t even remotely gratified.

“Just,” said Jackson, “just keep this on at all times.” He handed the prince his spare cloak that he had brought along just in case the prince needed something extra. The cloak wasn’t new or spotless but at least it was clean. Jackson hoped that if at least people didn’t catch sight of the expensive garments the prince wore and with the hood over Mark’s fair hair that had been tucked under a hat, the prince wouldn’t draw unwanted attention. Giving a quick nod of approval, because the cloak did manage to mask most of Mark’s form, Jackson sighed and took a step back. Sinking into a half-bow, the squire put forth a request to the prince.

“Your royal highness,” said Jackson with no hint of jest, eyes directed at the floor where Mark stood as manners required of his social class, “please allow me to stay by your side the entire time we’re at the fair.” After a slight hesitation, Jackson added in a smaller voice, afraid that he was asking too much, “Please allow me to protect you.”

If Mark had been affected by Jackson’s sudden formality, he gave no indication of it. “Very well,” was Mark’s answer but in truth, Jackson’s request had made Mark want to smile at his evident earnestness. The possibility of slipping away from Jacksons’ side had not occurred to him in the slightest so he was tickled that Jackson saw it fit to even ask. Jackson’s second request, however, sank into Mark’s consciousness like a drop of warm, liquid nectar that tasted sweet in its very simplicity.

“Thank you, your royal highness,” replied Jackson solemnly before he stood up again. The formality over and done with, Jackson broke into a playful smile, his excitable nature rising to the surface. “Let’s go.”

*            *            *

Earlier that day, Mark had managed to ‘accidentally’ cross Jackson’s path that he knew the squire took to go to and fro between the training grounds and where Jackson stayed in the barracks with the others of his group. It was a path that included a sheltered courtyard home to a few shrubs and trees which conveniently lay on the border between the squire’s quarters and the rest of the castle. In other words, it might still be a little surprising for the prince to be there but it wouldn’t raise any suspicions which was perfect for Mark’s purposes. He hadn’t seen the squire in a while and though Jackson still came to watch Johan fly, the squire often arrived just as the hawk’s training began and only to scuttle off immediately afterwards, not forgetting to thank Mark each time. Obviously, social decorum and routine dictated that the prince and the squire would rarely have chances to meet but there were often times that Mark used to be able to at least catch sight of Jackson on the grounds. Sometimes the raven-haired lad could be seen jostling with his friends, other times Mark could hear Jackson’s distinctive laugh echo along the corridors of the castle so there were indications of Jackson being around. But lately, there had been no sign for weeks. It unsettled him for some reason.

Yugyeom noticed the subtle changes of course, but made no comment because he was sure he just didn’t understand the prince. If it had been any other individual, Yugyeom would have laughed and concluded that that person was pining. Surely, the prince wasn’t. Couldn’t. Impossible. There had to be another reason and Yugyeom would rather keep his mouth shut than risk being punished.

When Jackson finally rounded the corner into the courtyard, Mark stood up from the carved stone bench upon which he had been sitting, closing the book he had brought along to occupy himself while he had waited. The slight upswing Mark had felt the moment he heard Jackson, however, dropped when he realised that Jackson had his arm slung around the shoulders of another boy, and, Mark noticed, the other also had his arm slung around Jackson’s shoulders. They were obviously engaged in a humorous conversation judging from their animated faces. Jackson’s smile looked so open, so unguarded that Mark couldn’t help but wonder when or if Jackson had ever smiled like that at him. The drop in his mood brought with it a heightened haughty demeanour, a demeanour that just waited to prick Jackson like a thorn.

Unknown to Mark, Jackson had been training hard every moment he could spare ever since the Captain had announced that they’d be selecting a squire to join Mark’s personal guard. It was what Jackson had always wanted to do – to protect Mark. Finally, the chance to do so had come. It was going to be difficult to get chosen because there were many others who wanted the same position, all of them fit and able and willing though, perhaps, each for different reasons. Some saw it as a way to rise in ranks, others saw it as a chance to gain some political favour. Jackson, on the other hand, just wanted to protect Mark. It was for that simple reason he had chosen to train as a squire in hopes of one day becoming a knight to serve in the prince’s honour. Not knowing when another chance like this would come again, Jackson threw his heart, body, mind and soul into his training. He had to be the best and was determined to make the choice a fair one as Jackson half suspected that if he were chosen, rumours would fly about how he had an upper hand because the prince himself seemed to favour him. To shut those gossipy slanderous tongues, Jackson worked on improving every skill for the three tests the Captain had set.

The three tests mirrored the ones used for knighthood tournaments which included archery, horseback riding and hand to hand combat with their weapons of choice. Jackson had done well enough in the first two tests, coming in second for archery and first for horseback riding. The last test which was to take place in a couple of days time was the hand to hand combat for which Jackson had opted for a sword and shield. It was the test that Jackson had been least worried about for he knew that Nicholas, his closest rival, still had yet to best him in swordplay. But Jackson was not one to be complacent and still trained as much as he could without wearing himself down completely. He had to be in his best form and though the selection had yet to be made, the Captain had already given vague hints by way of nods that there was high probability that Jackson would be chosen. So it was with a light heart that he slung his arm around Nicholas and about being selected for the King’s guard instead of the prince. The jovial mood coincided with a decision to head into town that evening to watch a visiting troop perform and basically, let their hair down after tense weeks of training and competition. It was in this mood that Jackson suddenly found himself in Mark’s presence.

Dropping their arms from each other’s shoulders, Jackson and Nicholas bowed hastily in respect, all conversation and jibes cut short as they then stood at attention. They had to wait either to be dismissed or ignored. One or the other.

Turns out, Mark merely signalled to Yugyeom and the page went over to Jackson. “His royal highness would like to have a word.”

Jackson listened, eyes slightly wide because this was unexpected. He clicked his heels together, dipped his head in a bow and followed after Yugyeom. Nicholas realised he was dismissed so with a bow of his own, he left the courtyard. He was curious why the prince wanted to speak to Jackson but at the same time, he valued his life too much to snoop. So off Nicholas went to the barracks leaving Jackson to fend for himself because even if Nicholas hadn’t seen the prince much, he could tell that the prince wasn’t exactly happy at that moment.

“Your royal highness,” said Jackson in greeting, bowing his head again. Without a word, Mark turned and started walking which meant that Yugyeom and Jackson just followed after the prince, not knowing where they were heading. Jackson nudged Yugyeom a couple of times, silently asking what was going on because there was an added force in Mark’s usual stride. All Yugyeom could do was shake his head and shrug. He had no idea what was happening and even less of what was going to happen. They kept walking, footsteps echoing along corridors and hallways until they reached Mark’s study. With a flick of his eyes, the prince indicated that Yugyeom stay outside and guard the door because Mark didn’t want to be interrupted.

Yugyeom stood aside and Mark left the door open for Jackson to enter which Jackson only did after gulping and shooting an anxious look at Yugyeom, asking the pageboy to save him from the unknown. All Yugyeom could do was to give him a sympathetic look. There was no escaping so Jackson entered the room, shutting the door behind him and then stood at attention, eyes focused on the tapestry right behind the prince’s head instead of on the prince himself who had sat down on a cushioned chair placed around a large table that held a scattering of books, manuscripts, quills and ink. Jackson had to consciously stop himself from gulping because he had never been in a situation like this before, well, at least, not one where Mark had sought him out and then wanted to ‘have a word’ in private.

Mark allowed the silence to drag on until he could see Jackson anxiously shifting his weight from one leg to the next. It was exactly what Mark wanted. He wanted to see Jackson unsettled to suffer for the irritable mood the squire had put him through.

Deciding to end the silence only when Jackson’s eyes flickered to his face, Mark asked in a slow contemplative murmur, “What have you been preoccupied with these days?”

Jackson’s eyes snapped back to the tapestry behind the prince’s head. “Training, your royal highness,” Jackson answered in a clipped voice a squire would use in an interrogation by his master. 

“Hmm,” hummed Mark, who idly picked up a quill to study the pattern that adorned the feather, “for?”

“The selection of the royal guard, your royal highness,” came Jackson’s abrupt answer, still in the clipped voice he had used earlier. Every nerve of his body was tensed while his mind worked desperately to understand the situation he was in. What did the prince want? Why was he brought to the prince’s private study? At any other time, Jackson would have welcomed the chance to explore Mark’s study given the opportunity but not right then, not when Mark seemed angry.

“Selection?” repeated Mark, the inflection indicating that it was a command to explain.

“Yes, your royal highness. In three days, the Captain will select a squire to join your royal guard, your royal highness. There are three tests, two of them are over and there’s another in two days. It was archery and horseback riding and now it’s hand to hand combat. I wasn’t very good at the first two so I had to make more effort to improve my skills, your royal highness. The outcome seems promising although I did miss my target in archery. It was the wind, your royal highness, it picked up with a sudden gust that blew my arrow-”

Mark raised a hand to cut short Jackson’s answer that was beginning to ramble, no doubt because Jackson was nervous. Mark could see it in the increased agitated movements of Jackson’s hands and eyes coupled with the constant repetition of ‘your royal highness’ as he tried to explain not really knowing what it was that Mark wanted to hear.

“My royal guard?” asked Mark.

“Your royal guard, your highness,” quipped Jackson.

Mark pondered for a moment. He had heard of a guard who was leaving but hadn’t given it much thought. Matters like that had never concerned him before because they were just individuals who were assigned to his service. The individuals changed, rotated and he had never seen them as more than just faces. Yet here Jackson was, telling him that he had spent every waking moment trying to join his royal guard. That was the reason why Jackson had disappeared, that was the reason why Mark had not seen him in the halls, that was the reason for the squire’s firmer built and the fading bruises Mark could trace on the lad’s jaw. It was a new idea to consider and to be certain, Mark asked cautiously, “You trained because you hoped to be selected?”

A look of confusion clouded Jackson’s eyes as he pulled his gaze from the tapestry only to meet the prince’s stoic face for a moment before focusing on the carpet at his feet. “Yes, your royal highness,” answered Jackson with noticeably less spirit because Mark’s question and tone seemed to indicate that Jackson was not wanted in his service. He had intentionally not told the prince because he had wanted it to be a surprise. He had wanted to be selected and then appear before Mark in the uniform of the prince’s royal guard, a beautiful deep blue ribbon sewn to the sleeve of the otherwise standard tunic. He had imagined how Mark’s face would light up and perhaps, perhaps Jackson would even be rewarded with a smile. That smile would be worth all the toil but here in harsh reality, it went nothing like what he had dared to dream. Foolish, foolish lowly servant, Jackson chided himself.

Mark noticed the change in Jackson’s countenance and spoke in order to break into whatever thoughts that seemed to have saddened the squire. “You should have told me. I could have given the command,” Mark said, cutting off the word easily that he almost tagged on. It would not do to belittle how much effort Jackson had put in and it was certainly improper to lord how much power and authority he had over others.

Jackson’s eyes flickered upwards. He bit his lower lip, before reluctantly replying, “I… I wanted to earn that place.” That place of honour to stand behind the prince, that place that was coveted by many.

Not for the first time Mark realised how much pride and dignity Jackson held within his character. Never had Jackson been one to take the easy route for Mark knew that many others who had been in Jackson’s position would have asked for favours from the prince and yet, never once did Jackson ask, imply or hint at anything of the sort. That was another reason why Jackson was different, why Mark sought to maintain that connection with Jackson. And to think all this time he had been indignant because it had seemed like Jackson had been avoiding him only now to be told that Jackson was doing everything in his power to seize the opportunity to be closer to Mark’s presence. It was… heartwarming.

“I see,” Mark replied with a small nod and certainly in a lighter voice more like the banter they usually shared. “Then I wish you the very best in your efforts.”

Jackson registered the change in tone and dared to pick up his chin, to smile albeit hesitantly because he still did not know why Mark had dragged him to his study.

“Thank you, your royal highness.”

“Now then,” said Mark, leaning back against the chair so his posture was more relaxed. Seeing Mark release the tension in his body made Jackson feel less on tenterhooks but still cautious. “As there is only one more test, you shall accompany me to do some birdwatching tonight.”

Jackson could not help but blink. It wasn’t that Jackson was surprised at Mark’s suggestion. They had gone birdwatching at night before because it was the only time to see nocturnal birds like the owl or to catch the song of the nightingale. It was the suddenness of it all especially in the switch of the prince’s mood. The real problem was that this time, Jackson could not say yes.

“I-I’m sorry, your royal highness. I’m afraid I cannot accompany you tonight,” Jackson cursed the timing. He would have loved to spend time with the prince and during these nocturnal birdwatching sessions, it was almost exclusively a time shared between the prince and himself. Yugyeom came along, of course, but he would mostly be dozing while the prince and Jackson would listen for the rustle of wings or call of birds.

It was Mark’s turn to blink but it was soon accompanied with a slight frown. “Why?” Mark not used to Jackson saying no. The first time Jackson had said no was when Mark was eight and at that time, Jackson didn’t even know he was the prince. Ever since then, Mark was fairly certain that Jackson never refused any of his requests.

Clearing his throat, Jackson explained, “A group of us are going to the fair tonight, your royal highness. It’s the last night the travelling troop is in the kingdom and we’d been occupied with training so we decided to go this evening.”

Mark drummed his long, slender fingers on the arm rest of his chair. A night out with the other knights in training? No doubt that other one, the one Jackson had his arm around earlier would be going too. Allowing impulse to dominant for once, Mark announced, “No matter. I’ll go to the fair as well.”

To say that Jackson was shocked would oversimplify the sudden rush of worry, anxiety, disbelief and excitement he felt as the prince’s statement. “B-but your royal highness, you can’t. His majesty the king would not agree. It’s too-”

At this, Mark stood up, a mischievous gleam appeared in his eyes, not unlike the time when he had jumped out of his study’s window as a boy. “I know full well my father will not agree. That is why I shall not be asking permission.”

“But, your royal highness, you don’t have to go and see the troop. Just ask them and they’d be more than honoured to be invited so-”

Mark held up his hand in a gesture Jackson was beginning to see too often. “I am going,” stated Mark, “in disguise.”

Jackson could hear the anticipation in the prince’s voice and though the part of him that wanted to spend time with the prince was rejoicing at the fun they could have outside the inner walls of the castle, the more responsible part of him knew this was too big a risk. Mark was the prince, extremely important to the kingdom. If anything should befall him…

“Your royal highness, please reconsider-”

“Jackson,” Mark said with finality, “I am going, irrespective of your opinion.” The impromptu plan, made even more exciting because it was created in the spur of the moment, had taken hold of Mark. He rarely did anything reckless and what was born as a desire to monopolize Jackson’s time had fired up his imagination. He had never experienced a town fair. What would the atmosphere be like? What would happen? Will everyone be enjoying themselves? Will everyone be singing perhaps bawdy songs, shouting the vulgar lyrics to the night air? He wanted to see all that. After all, if he were to govern the people, he should know what they’re like.

The squire was at a loss. The prince seemed determined and in truth, Jackson could not object to the prince’s wishes. And if the prince were to go, he’d have to be protected because Jackson was quite certain that Mark had no idea what life was like outside the castle walls.

“Your royal highness, if-” Jackson started to say before Mark gave him a cutting look. “Since you are going, please allow me to accompany you.” Mark nodded in agreement, especially because he’d not have it any other way.

*            *            *

“Your royal-”

“Hush!” Mark hissed, clamping a hand over Jackson’s mouth before pulling him behind a stack of barrels as they navigated the town’s many narrow streets. “Stop calling me that,” Mark whispered, standing in very close proximity to Jackson. If anyone heard it, it’ll be nothing less than blowing a trumpet to get everyone’s attention.

Frowning, Jackson grasped the prince’s hand to pull it away from his mouth. “What should I call you then?” he half-demanded with a pout of his lower lip that Mark did not fail to notice, not when Jackson’s face was so close. The prince had been quite trying in the time they had escaped the castle and made their way to where the travelling troop had set up a stage. Mark was distracted very easily, once by an old lady selling delicious looking loaves of bread and another by a group of young men who were busy placing bets on which of three cups held a bead after being shuffled. Jackson felt like he was minding an inquisitive child of ten but then realised that in many ways, Mark was inexperienced with the way of life outside the castle. Knowledge, ideas and history he had aplenty but what was common to townsfolk was exotic to Mark. The isolation had just been part and parcel of his upbringing and though it sometimes irritated him, Jackson did find himself marvelling at the way Mark’s eyes grew livelier whenever he discovered something new.

“Just call me Mark,” the prince said boldly but the squire could only gasp, press his lips together and shake his head anxiously in reply. No one addressed the prince by his first name except for fellow royalty. It was against the every social law and earned anyone who dared try such foolish impudence a day in the stocks. Even if there was no punishment, Jackson could not bring himself to do so. It would be too, for lack of a better word, intimate, for being on a first name basis with the prince meant that one could overlook his social status and stand as equals. To the squire, the very thought of addressing the prince as Mark was too large a responsibility – one that he did not think he was ready to shoulder.

 Seeing Jackson’s absolute refusal, Mark thought for a moment after putting aside his disappointment when Jackson didn’t want to address him by his name. Until he had asked, the prince had no idea he had wanted to know how his name would sound like in Jackson’s voice. Would Jackson call to him as excitedly as he had greeted Nicholas just now while Mark pulled the hood of his cloak lower to hide himself? Would there be a lilt in Jackson’s voice? Or if Jackson were angry, how would Mark’s name sound on his lips? Needless to say, Mark was curious and now it seemed he would never find out.

“Hmm… then call me Ian.”

“Ian?”

“Ian,” Mark repeated.

“Alright then, Ian,” Jackson grinned before gently taking hold of the prince’s wrist. “Come on!” clearly excited because the night had just begun. They arrived at the stage where the troop was currently putting on a juggling act but juggling with plates, pots, pans and cups to the oohs and aahs of the crowd. Then it was a juggling act of daggers which had the crowd watching in fearful fascination until the performer caught all three daggers in one hand and ended his performance with a deep bow.

“Bravo! Bravo!” the crowd yelled, before filling the air with claps and roars of approval. Both Mark and Jackson had lifted their hands to clap only to realise that Jackson had still been holding Mark’s wrist. A little startled, Jackson drew his hand away with an apologetic and sheepish smile to turn his attention back to the performer who was enjoying the applause by bowing again and again. Jackson found it was surprisingly comfortable to act like this with the prince outside the inner castle. The lack of high ceilings and stone walls made it easy to see the prince as, if Jackson would hazard the word, a friend just as he would have held Nicholas’ wrist. Or would he? Mark followed suit in clapping, his wrist suddenly missing Jackson’s warm and gentle grasp but thought it wise not to ask or initiate such contact. When the performer left, the crowd dispersed.

“Ahem,” Jackson cleared his throat, “so, Ian, what would you like to do next?”

“What does one usually do?”

“Drink I guess.”

“Then lead the way,” the prince said with a smile.

“You sure, your-Ian?” Jackson was only beginning to get used to this. “The beer here is quite different from the one you’re used to. Less… refined.”

“Lead the way, Jackson,” a note of Mark’s usual commanding stance appearing again.

“If you wish,” replied Jackson, walking towards the tavern he usually frequented for beer, “but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Jackson got the prince a pint of beer and they sat at a quieter corner of the tavern. Groups of men were drinking, giving random toasts to strangers and yes, as Mark had expected, belting out song after song. Mark just watched, taking in the free manner in which the people interacted. It was not altogether different from the royal banquets they had in the castle although as Jackson had warned him, the quality of the draughts left much to be desired. Still, the merriment was familiar but amplified.

Catching Mark’s curious gaze, Jackson explained, “It’s one of the few days they can rest. These same men will be up before sunrise to tend their fields and lifestock. They work day after day to feed themselves and their families so times when they can forget surviving every day are rare. They just make the most of it.”

Mark nodded as Jackson fell into a contemplative silence. There were sides to Jackson that Mark realised he had never seen. Such as this one, the quiet, thoughtful observant Jackson. For a few moments, Mark caught himself staring at Jackson’s features as the squire swirled what was left of his beer in his tankard. He seemed deep in contemplation which made the prince hope that Jackson didn’t notice he had been basically tracing the outlines of Jackson’s face. The prince tried to drink more of his beer as a way to change his state of mind but couldn’t manage beyond a couple of mouthfuls at a go. Coughing a little as the liquid burned down his throat, he felt Jackson thump him on his back.

“Ready to go, Ian?”

Mark nodded. He stood up, careful to pull the cloak around him and waited for Jackson to yell his goodbyes to those he knew by name. “To King Raymond!” cheered one of the farmers and there was an answering toast by all in the tavern. Jackson had joined in and as he took Mark’s wrist, he noticed the slightly awestruck look on the prince’s face.

“What?”

“They… cheered for my father?”

“Yeah, they do it all the time.”

“But why? They don’t know him, I don’t think they’ve even seen him.”

Jackson chuckled. “It’s because your father is a good king. His reign is peaceful and that’s all we can wish for really. Come on, we’ve got to get back.” He tugged lightly on the prince’s wrist and started making their way back towards the inner castle walls which left Mark with his thoughts. A visit to the town had revealed to him an aspect of kingship that he had been taught about but, he realised now, he hadn’t really understood. All these people, in the town and he knew there were many villagers beyond as well, all these people depended on his father keeping peace in the land. So many men, women and children relied on the one who wore the crown to rule with wisdom. All of a sudden, Mark started to feel intimidated by the faces he saw as he followed Jackson’s footsteps. He wondered if he would be a good king.

“Jackson, do you-”

Screams and angry yells rang through the air. A ripple of tension ran through Jackson’s veins like quickfire as he gave a firm tug on Mark’s wrist in order to pull him closer. Latching on to the prince’s arm, Jackson said into Mark’s ear, “Stay with me.”

____________________________________

Author's note: i used Ian cause it's the closest i could get to 'yien' without feeling too far out of place XD