Chapter Text
“So is it I see the watchers or I feel the watchers first?”
“See them milord.”
Ever since Martyn had bowed his head and agreed to become his hand, the man had begun opening up more, finally allowing Ren to take part in his unique celebrations and beliefs.
“...and I finish the line then clap?”
“Yes exactly!” Martyn beamed at his king, practically vibrating where he stood despite the heavy axe that had accompanied him for the past week.
It was refreshing to finally see his companion begin to be freed from the shackles of his past that had seemingly plagued him since they first met.
Now the man smiled, he even initiated their dance session two days ago and had snapped back even more ferociously at any who wished him ill or insult. Ren found himself growing fonder and fonder of him with every passing moment spent together.
They were interrupted by a clearly amused Etho knocking at the door. “The final day of the festival begins at sunrise my liege, in other words, an hour and a half from now.”
Ren waved him off thankfully and after promising to continue practicing another time, led Martyn down to his favourite part of the palace gardens.
The king took a moment to brush his leathery gloved hand over some of the resilient flowers that had somehow survived the ongoing winter, before turning back to face his hand- patient as always- who stood alert and at attention, always remaining close to his side.
The steps taken towards him were clearly hesitant with a feeling akin to nervousness before he cleared his throat. “Martyn, we have been good friends for what seems like an eternity despite just meeting a year or so ago.” He began.
“I have come to truly value you as both a companion and an advisor, now a hand I suppose…”
He chuckled light heartedly and relaxed slightly at the sight of Martyn’s smile widening on his face. “I- I have realised that- for me at least- friends is too shallow of a word to describe what I feel for you.”
“It does not encompass the full extent of the admiration and affection of which my heart has been seized by.” His voice was beginning to tremble now, why? He couldn't quite tell.
Perhaps it was fear of rejection? But Martyn would never be so cruel as to ridicule him, especially with such a vulnerable and private confession as this.
Maybe it was the fear of causing a rift in their relationship? Maybe it was the fear of an incurable tension and awkwardness that would follow the pair for the rest of their unhappy lives?
His train of worries was cut short as the other man reached out and held his King’s hands in his own. Ren immediately looked up and was met with nothing but pure happiness practically spilling from his gaze.
“I- I think it has been mutual for a while milord.”
Ren hesitantly tightened his grip on his hand only to be met with a comforting squeeze. He gleefully matched the beaming expression on his hopefully now lover's face.
Nothing more needed to be said between them.
---------
As the festival concluded that same day, Ren was expected to give a speech celebrating their victory. Naturally he took this as a chance to experience the event itself without any formalities.
Due to the risk of recognition from rebels or rebel sympathisers, each man had a hood pulled over their head to hide their identities from any quick glances across a crowd.
However it did little to stop the shopkeepers from refusing payment for any handmade trinkets or show of craftsmanship they had set up in their uniquely small stalls.
Being the King, Ren half expected the treatment, receiving the grand majority of gifts from enthusiastic subjects of his. He was however unable to keep a fond smile off of his face as his hand was stubbornly praised as well by passers by.
A small laugh was swallowed up by the noisy crowd as Martyn practically squawked in protest when an elderly lady placed a weaved necklace around his neck, now resting on top of the watcher pendant the man would sooner die than part with.
He grabbed onto his hand and hurriedly led him away to behind the main stage as both the sun rose higher and the crowds grew denser.
Martyn led out a fond chuckle at Ren’s dishevelled hair upon pulling the hood back. Quickly running his hands through soft, well groomed brown locks, he helped the King prepare himself for the upcoming speech.
“I will announce your new position after the festival so it doesn’t shy away from its true meaning.” He reassured him. Martyn nodded understandingly in response and slowly pushed him towards the stage.
As the knights made their way to their respective opposite ends, the King hastily turned to Martyn and impulsively pressed a gentle kiss to the back of his hand before rushing off, cape bellowing with the movement.
He tried to ignore the embarrassed rise in temperature and the memory of Martyn’s face flushing red that was already beginning to engrave itself permanently into his memory.
Not that Ren would ever complain.
---------
Grian was seething.
Scar had spotted Martyn making his way around the festival that morning alongside the King himself, and immediately rushed back to let the rest of them know.
Pearl and Jimmy were now laying in wait nearby for Grian’s signal as both him and Scar stalked the pair throughout the town.
While they were talented and well practiced at sneaking around, he had a suspicion that if it weren't for the immense crowd following their every move, they would have been instantly spotted.
Even still, Martyn wasn't alone for a single moment. The King had constantly kept him at his side as if he were a pet, beckoning and calling for his presence every chance he got.
Scar placed a comforting hand on the other’s shoulder to dissuade him from jumping out early to immediately confront the man.
Martyn must have spent at least an entire year under his control. The very thought made his blood boil.
Finally, the pair eventually retreated behind the stage in preparation for the main event of the day. The King’s speech, in which he celebrated the blood forever dripping from his hands.
He was forced to watch as his friend, his Martyn, delicately fixed the hair of his oppressor with no complaints but instead a gentle smile meant towards the man.
Grian covered his mouth with his palm to prevent any shocked or disgusted sounds from escaping.
His eyes instead remained fixed on the pair as the King leaned down and pressed a kiss to Martyn’s hand, leaving him smiling and laughing under his breath like a teenage girl with a crush.
As the man looked down longingly as his now contaminated hand, Grian’s grip on Scar’s shirt tightened.
How dare he.
“I'm going to kill him. I'm going to rip him apart for daring to touch him like that.” He hissed to his partner, voice trembling with the sheer amount of anger emanating from his body.
Of course! He realised. If Martyn was so surprised to see Jimmy then he must have thought the rest of them dead as well.
The King would definitely have used his vulnerability to start imbedding his own twisted ideas into his friend’s head, slowly manipulating him into the servant he was today.
Well not for long. Grian swore to himself.
As cheering rang out through the air, signalling the emergence of the tyrant to the stage, Grian gave the signal and all four of them surged forwards, tackling Martyn to the ground.
This had naturally been well rehearsed- none of them were willing to take any chances after all- so despite Martyn initially creating some distance from his rescuers, they maintained the upper hand.
The man kicked out at the hands reaching for his feet before looking up as Pearl jumped on his chest, rope in hand.
His eyes widened upon recognising her, and he hesitated.
---------
This was bad.
Ren’s speech was still ongoing and would be for a while, so he had to somehow escape or call for help on his own.
He had not expected Jimmy to show his face so soon- especially after his warning-, much less with everyone else and a random boy with him. So Martyn could admit that they absolutely got the jump on him when he was completely unprepared.
He never stopped kicking and yelling through the gag tied around his mouth as they collaboratively dragged his restrained body through alleyway and alleyway.
“-Stop Martyn! It’s okay!” Grian kept repeating, looking around with a fierceness in his eyes that Martyn clearly hadn't forgotten.
His precious axe had been hastily thrown to the side by the new man accompanying them. The four had probably been planning to be safely out of sight before the speech ended.
If Martyn kept delaying them then maybe someone could find him-
Find.
The flare Ren gave him immediately weighed heavily on his belt, securely tucked away and concealed by his cape. He knew what to do.
By forcing his limbs to relax, Martyn went completely limp, causing his kidnappers to stumble briefly, giving him a small window to snap his foot against the stranger's calf and take his hand back.
It shot down straight to his belt, unclipped the tool and before Pearl could hold him down again, he raised the flare and pulled the trigger.
His hope for rescue came as red and orange smoke, the same colour as the sunrise creeping through Martyn’s window every morning, flying to the sky in a giant cloudy haze.
Pearl immediately pulled his arm down and threw the flare a good distance away before shouting at the others to keep hauling him along.
She nodded with a reluctant yet firm look on her face to the stranger, seemingly giving some kind of signal, as the scarred man removed a damp cloth and pressed it over his face.
He turned his head away but Pearl’s strong grip in his hair pulled it back, forcing Martyn to breathe in the artificial herbal smelling mixture soaking up the fabric.
“I’m sorry Martyn, we didn’t want to do this-”
He could hear her say, but Martyn eventually lost focus as his eyes grew heavier and heavier…
…and the darkness swallowed him whole.
--------
“...thank you for your gifts and kind words this past week towards both myself and my guards-”
The king was cut off by a cloud of red and orange filling the sky near the edge of town. He stared at it for a long moment, hoping it would explain itself and not result in what he most feared.
The crowd began whispering amongst themselves in confusion; some suggested mistimed fireworks, others muttered about a possible attack on the kingdom being signaled, but Ren knew what those colours meant.
After all, he handed over the flare himself.
“Please enjoy your celebrations for the rest of the day!” He finished with a clap of his hands before leaving the scene, trying to hide the rush in his steps as he ordered the stationed knights to hand him a horse.
Skizz was quickly entrusted with his cape and crown until he returned. If he were to give chase, any extra weight would be a significant hindrance.
The cloud had begun dissipating by the time his horse had gained sufficient speed to begin the hunt for his hand. However the wind seemed to still after Ren caught sight of the metal glint of an axe, messily thrown to the side.
That confirms it then. He concluded grimly, squeezing his legs slightly against the horse’s body and pressing himself lower to try and encourage it to gallop just a little faster.
He swung a harsh right, harsh pants from his steed sounding in his ear when he caught sight of that blond head of hair that he had grown to adore.
With him were four shocked expressions before they turned and continued dragging his limp body along.
“-GO GO GO IT’S HIM!”
The other blond shouted as the rebels broke out in a sprint. The fourth member, a brown haired girl wearing a dark cotton jumper remained, pulling what must have been a hidden lever which collapsed the supply of barrels stacked in the nearby brewery.
One of these hit the horse in his leg, causing the animal to whine in distress and throw Ren off before fleeing the scene.
By the time he looked up, the girl was gone.
He surged forwards, recalling in which direction her companions had taken Martyn, and continuing on foot through a narrow passage until he finally spotted them again at the end of a clearing.
One of the boys had paused to momentarily check over the now reunited girl before turning his head towards the King who was now sprinting towards him with determination etched in his face.
“Now Scar!”
The ground cracked and erupted in light, throwing him against a nearby wall due to the shockwave of the sudden explosion.
Ren coughed and pressed a hand to his heart and throat, his most vulnerable parts, before sighing in relief as they came back covered in only soot and dirt.
The cloud of ash had hidden the escape of the rebels with his Martyn, leaving Ren unable to do much more than slowly stand to catch his breath.
His knights arrived shortly after, helping him out of the rubble and asking what on earth had happened. Ren coughed lightly again and leaned on Etho’s firm stance.
“The rebels have both made an attempt on my life… and taken away my hand.”
---------
Martyn groaned and opened his eyes, adjusting to the darkness of the room he found himself in. His hands were tied together on his lap and his eyes could vaguely make out what seemed like metal bars at the entrance.
He leaned against a nearby curved wall to help himself get to standing as he surveyed the rest of his surroundings. He soon found that he had a freshly made bed and a sturdy chair to sit on.
Martyn sighed against the wall as he recalled the insanity of the previous day. Ren’s confession, the festival and his… friends.
His friends that had knocked him out and were now keeping him restrained in a remodelled prison cell.
With little else to stave off his boredom, he began muttering the song that he had taught the King that same morning upon request under his breath. However before even finishing it once, the door opened and a familiar face walked in.
“Hey Martyn.”
“Hi Timmy.”
The man laughed awkwardly, “still remember the nickname after everything I see?” Martyn smiled and nodded before sitting down in the available chair, inviting Jimmy to walk over.
He had hardly changed apart from his clothing, now made from a much finer material than they were used to back home. Jimmy also seemed to proudly wear a collection of stitched patches, each probably telling its own unique story.
They remained in silence until Jimmy spoke up, concern glinting in his brown eyes as he asked, “Martyn, what happened to you?”
He scoffed with a grin tugging at his lips before he met his friend’s eyes. “I was enjoying the festival and stepped back for the King to give his speech-”
“-real egoist that one…” He muttered under his breath before Martyn immediately snapped back at him.
“Don’t speak badly of him! How dare you! Show your King some respect Tim!”
He stood up taller and began to raise his voice with anger. “I won't show respect to the man who murdered BigB!”
Martyn instantly matched him and shot up from his chair. “You don’t understand, Ren didn’t kill BigB!”
“We all found and saw his body Martyn, we all saw the arrow, please!”
“The old King murdered BigB by sending him away like he did!” The blond shouted back in response. “Why aren't you believing me Tim!?”
Jimmy panted and took a step closer towards the King’s unwavering hand. “Because we saw him, Martyn! I know the King has said a lot of things and done a lot to you this past year, but he is a bad man-”
“-Even the Watchers agreed with me!”
“What?” He whispered breathlessly, looking stunned.
“We’ve always trusted them, you’ve never gone against them before Timmy, why now?”
Martyn whispered desperately, searching for something he couldn’t quite name in his friend's agonised expression.
Strong hands found his shoulders and gripped him stiffly, as Jimmy looked at him with tearful eyes.
“They aren't real Martyn! They never were! It was just us, playing around in the woods and being stupid kids!” He pleaded, voice strained in a harsh whisper.
He finally let out a drained sigh, the quiet sound echoing through the room before beginning to painfully shake his head upon seeing the disordered sheen now present in Martyn’s eyes.
“Of course it was.” He whispered, something erratic and shaky in his voice as he stared at Jimmy with a confused expression. “They never would have appeared for anyone else.”
“MARTYN!” Jimmy found himself shouting, tears now threatening to spill down his cheeks.
“Please! Whatever ideas or beliefs the King encouraged or- or put in your head- it's not true!”
“I have to go back. I have duties, Timmy.” Martyn responded calmly despite the moist glassy look in his eyes.
“No! No you don’t! You don't have to stay with him anymore!”
“Send me BACK Jimmy!” Martyn cried shakily, gripping his friend’s hands so tightly that they began to turn white. He eventually let go and averted his gaze to the floor.
They remained silent, desperately panting for air in an effort to ground themselves before Martyn interrupted it with a small sniffle.
“Am I your prisoner now?”
“No, of course not.” Jimmy responded, voice breaking with emotion.
“Then why can’t I leave?”
He opened his mouth but upon lacking a response, remained silent instead, wiping away another stray tear and heading towards the exit.
Martyn didn't follow. He didn’t even look up as the door closed with a harsh metallic clang.
He bent over and quietly wept into his hands.