Markus was shaking quite badly when Oliver picked him out of the barrel, dripping wet and cold. It was no wonder he was so sick, and that mixed with malnutrition, and his normal underweight being, that it had gotten so bad.
He could barely keep himself upright when he was set down, sagging slightly forward. “No..”, he mumbled quietly as reply. He couldn’t keep his eyes open. He was so tired.
“Should I carry you?”, he asked, merely out of politeness. Considering that Markus couldn’t walk, it was his only option if they intended to leave the ship during the night. He would carry him if he had to, king or not, whether he liked it or not. “That is to say I’d have to.”
Oliver noticed that Markus looked exhausted in the small amount of light that shone through the cracks in the wooden boards above them. “Once we’re off this ship, we can rest. We’re near a busy harbour – there’s usually other ships nearby.”
Markus nodded weakly at the question. Not that either of them had a choice if they wanted to get Markus away from here. He didn’t really care about his status at the moment, he didn’t look like a king either after all. He was, technically, still a year or two too young to be king, but he had been forced to be king as child.
“Might… pass out..”, he was pretty certain he’d pass out while Oliver carried him. He was fighting to stay awake right now after all.
emptynarration 