Mark went back to his room to change into his training clothes, and on the way saw a hurried Matt, another servant.

"Good morning, my prince!" Matt exclaimed as he sped past him.

Mark jumped out of his way and watched him run off, not bothering to respond. What was he running to? And was he holding shoes..?

"MATT, YOU BASTARD," came a voice down the hall, which Mark immediately recognized as Ryan's. As if on cue, a barefoot Ryan sped past him, calling to him as well, "Morning, my prince!"

Mark stepped over again, watching as the servants turned into the next hall, Matt laughing and Ryan shouting empty threats. Mark's mouth twitched down, and he felt a certain distaste for the situation. For a moment, he let this distaste overtake him, and his hand clenched into a fist. He blinked, realizing what was happening and quickly shook off the negative emotion.

What the fuck just happened?

After a moment, he turned around and got back on track. He couldn't just stand in that hall and watch nothing... He had to get ready for training.

Well, actually... did he?

He could just go tomorrow to make up for it. Mark sighed, running a hand through his hair. But that didn't really matter did it? He didn't know what to think at the moment, and it didn't help that his mind had been muddled for the past week. Just earlier, when he had made the decision to pick up the discarded crown, it had been a battle to convince himself to care.

Mark threw the previous idea of going to bed away and decided to go out into the stables instead to take a ride and clear his mind.

Clearing his mind...that meant relaxation. Something that he wasn't getting enough of. Mark's sleep for the past week has been shortened due to constant tossing and turning. It felt as if he couldn't agree with himself, his body wanted one thing but his mind wanted another. He was just tired, tired of being unappreciated. He was simply hungry, hungry for something new. He needed to calm down, he needed to take control.

These thoughts wouldn't be so distressing if he had thought them before. But they were so out of the ordinary, so out of his usual mindset that he had no other choice than to worry. These thoughts caused the skin on the back of his neck to raise and his hands would start to shake. Mark felt as if he would hurt someone to get what he wanted, not caring about them as long as it got him closer to this... this desire. He was beginning to loose his sense of empathy, and for some reason the thought of controlling others became less and less frightening.

Mark wasn't like this at all. He cared about his people, his kingdom. They adored him for the good deeds he's done, and he wouldn't ask for anything more. He was handsome, according to the ladies, and he was respectively intelligent. He wasn't the most talented with his hands, admittedly, but his voice wasn't bad at all. He was humble nevertheless, and he was okay with being in the background... well, no.

He didn't care for the background. Being in the background meant your reputation would be cast in artificial light, which when turned off gives way to the darkest of shadows. No, he wanted nothing to do with that. Unfortunately, since he was the youngest prince, he had only two options for his life after his brother became king; join the background or live like a commoner. He wouldn't mind the second option if it didn't mean stripping away his freedom.

Mark went to push open the door to the outside yards when a call from the opposite end of the hall caught his attention.

"Brother!" Thomas called, jogging towards the younger prince in a hurry.

Mark grew anxious at his brother's tone and responded quickly, "Yes? What's happened? Is everything okay?"

"No, no, Mark, it's dad!" Thomas yelled in his face, panting in fright and anxiety. Mark's already stressed expression melted. His eyes widened and his jaw went slack. He didn't need to hear anything more to start running in the direction of the King's quarters. The older prince ran with him, explaining what had happened along the way. "We were simply negotiating dinner plans with the chef when he cried out in pain. He had broke into a sweat and I called for a healer immediately. I left once they came to take dad to his room. It's that pain again, Mark. Dad said that it's been getting stronger," Thomas was gasping for breath, but he didn't slow down until they reached their father's doors.

They practically knocked them down, and there he was. Lying in bed with wires and machines all around him. The best of the best technology, preserved for the royal family. The high ranking servants around the room quickly shut the doors, and stood guard once more. No one else in the kingdom besides those in this room could know what was happening.

This was highly classified.

"Dad!" Mark tried to reach him, but one of the nurses pulled him back.

"I'm sorry, sir, but he needs to calm down. I suggest you step back to prevent making matters worse. We're doing the best we can."

So Mark and his brother could only watch as doctors and nurses hovered over their father, using advanced gadgets and instruments to inspect him inside and out. Mark wanted to scream and shout at them to stop messing around and get to the healing part. They had exactly what they needed to help him, so why were they stalling?! They said they were supposed to protect us and keep us alive, not toy with our lives! Mark thought sourly, furiously running his fingers through his hair. For the first time today, no other voices were debating with him in his mind.

Then one quiet, terrified announcement from the leading doctor brought him to the edge of hysterics.

"His body is rejecting everything! It doesn't make any fucking sense," he said under his breath.

Mark was going to push the nurse holding him back away, but his brother joined her in holding him back, clamping a hand over his mouth and clasping his shoulder with the other. Mark flailed in outrage, wanting his brother's vice-like grip off of him. When he looked back into his eyes, however...

His brother had completely changed. Gone was the terrified panting and yelling. Even though his eyes were glistening with tears, his jaw was set. The reality of the situation had dawned on him, and he was forced to kept calm. He didn't let his emotions overtake him, unlike Mark had. Thomas looked like a statue that had been carved to express grief and suffering. He was being tortured, but he put on a brave face and held back his own brother. Mark overlooked the fact that his brother's lips were trembling.

Mark hated seeing how much of a king he already was. Especially at a time like this, but still... the sight completely dissolved his anger towards the situation  He stopped fighting, and the blood rushing through his ears drowned out the sounds of scurrying professionals and beeping machines. Tears of his own ran down his cheeks and he fell limp in his brother's arms.

And they stayed like that until the doctor finally declared,

"He's stable... for now."