[and i dream of what i need, 1/4; frank iero/gerard way, 37100 words]
Title: And I Dream Of What I Need
Author: blindmadness
Word Count: 37100
Pairing: Frank Iero/Gerard Way (mentioned Mikey Way/Brian Schechter and Pete Wentz/Patrick Stump, past Frank Iero/Brendon Urie, and implied Ray Toro/Bob Bryar)
Rating: R? There's not-too-detailed porn.
Fandom/'Verse: Bandom; Belleville and Wilmette-'verse
Summary: When one is the male princess of a magical kingdom, few things come as a surprise anymore. Princess Gerard Way of the kingdom of Belleville sets out on a quest to fulfill a prophecy and encounters dragons, climbs mountains, runs from volcanoes, banters with King Peter of Wilmette, and finds true love along the way.
Notes: OH BOY, WHERE TO START.
Written for peridium for mcr4u; obviously it, um, got a little bit out of hand. o__o Its original estimate was 15k and a good 34k of it was written over the course of two weeks (yeah, that's right). This is officially the longest complete thing I've ever, ever written, fandom or original, and quite possibly my favourite 'verse that I'm now going to be writing in forever and ever, thank you. >__>
LOTS OF PEOPLE TO THANK FOR HELPING CREATE THIS MONSTER. Firstly, the wonderful ladies of e5chat for letting me babble about my ideas when this was just in its fetal stage and convincing me that it was worth expanding into this enormous little fucker (you know who you are ♥). Secondly, lessthangreat, skyfalling, and candidlily for flailing over the first dragon scene and reassuring me that yes, it was actually not bad at all, and then once again for letting me give them a surprise piece of information about something near the end and reacting to it like I hoped they would. A million billion zillion thanks to burgaw for foregoing sleep and battling work and faily internets to give me a last-minute beta job for this when I had none; she is utterly amazing, made some great suggestions, and inflated my ego a lot while doing so. A million billion thanks to lessthangreat and thelemic for providing a test audience and enjoying it more than I'd dared to hope for, also inflating my ego quite a bit.
Last but not least, thank you to mcee for inadvertantly giving me my girlfriend to write for, because had I not had the reassurance that my recipient would love whatever I did, I probably wouldn't have had the courage to indulge a billion silly little whims and expand this into what it is now. ♥
And I Dream Of What I Need
It's not at all, Princess Gerard Way of the kingdom of Belleville thinks as he carefully lines the stone of the castle wall with a streak of vivid red, like he's complaining or like he's truly unhappy with his life.
By all standards, his life is really pretty damn good. The ideals of princesses getting less of an education than princes was vaguely old-fashioned even in his grandparents' time; now, it's simply primeval and so Gerard received the same education that Mikey's a year away from finishing. He's not lacking in any privileges that come with being royalty -- the castle, the prestige and influence, the access to more or less any material possessions he'd like, and the ability to express his views throughout the kingdom.
It's not even that being a princess is so bad. It's a little strange, sure, that his entire life is defined by a mistaken title; expectations surrounding him would be drastically different were he a prince like Mikey. King Donald never wastes an opportunity to mention that he was against the ancient midwife that had helped his mother-in-law deliver his wife also presiding over the birth of his firstborn child; it was thanks to her nearly-gone eyesight that the joyous announcement that a princess was born to the king and queen was made. For reasons Gerard had never had explained to his satisfaction, the titles of the royal children were carved into the family tree within minutes of their birth, so by the time the mistake was discovered, he was Princess Gerard and would be for the rest of his life. (He supposes he should be grateful that he got a masculine name -- something about tradition with passing a name down, though no one for a few generations has even been named Gerard -- because his life would be even more awkward otherwise. It's one of the things that makes him relieved he wasn't actually born a girl.)
Actually, a lot of the time, Gerard's all right with the princess thing. He has more free time than Mikey, who will soon be enduring lessons in statecraft and diplomacy and treasury management and all sorts of important tasks and information for the heir to the throne. Gerard's already getting a few of these lessons, of course, because his parents wouldn't dream of excluding him, but they're less important for him as he won't be ruling, so he can afford to miss some (plus he's studied most of it on his own for years). This free time gives him a chance to do things like paint an enormous mural in the new guest wing of the castle; his parents have given him free rein, so he's working through buckets of paint on the largest of the walls right now.
He has no pressure to find a husband (or wife, but he's less inclined to look there these days) like Mikey's starting to get; at the same time, he meets a hell of a lot of attractive knights who come by on quests or services to the crown (and are sometimes interested in the unusual princess, too). He even has a closet full of gorgeous, elaborate gowns, usually sent as birthday gifts from kingdoms close enough to feel the need for politeness but far enough away to not know that he happens to be male. Gerard never writes back to tell them that he is, because the gowns are absolutely beautiful and some are surprisingly comfortable and even flatter his figure well. (His parents feel vaguely awkward about this, but they've never stopped him on the occasions he decides to appear in public wearing the gowns. Sometimes he claims it's to show goodwill to the kingdoms who sent them, but usually he simply says that he likes them, and the king and queen shake their heads but allow it.)
No, Gerard's own life isn't what concerns him -- his parents are forward-thinking people who wouldn't dream of taking up old practices with their older son. What frustrates him is the general attitude towards women in the society; while things have definitely progressed in the past few generations, the society could still stand improvement. The fact that his title matters more than his gender is obnoxious sometimes -- it's not that he wants to inherit the kingdom, but being unable to do so simply because he has a female title is just unfair. He knows that almost nowhere can women inherit property before men, even if they're older, even when they're royalty. There are even convoluted rules in his own kingdom regarding what happens to a widow's property. Queens generally still hold power, even if it's diminished, after their husbands (or, rarely, wives) die, but the average woman (and, more often, the poor women) is left at a complete loss and next to powerless when left widowed. And that's just the start, and to put it bluntly, it pisses Gerard off.
He spends a lot of his free time reading scrolls in one of the castle's enormous libraries. It started when he was in his early teens and discovered (among the stories of his ancestor founding the kingdom and naming it for the small village in the violent area he'd grown up in) a scroll about Queen Maja, the queen of a kingdom on the other side of the world. She was the older of two sisters and inherited the crown along with her husband, though she had a history of ruling more strongly than he ever did, and had two sons; however, she broke every law of inheritance by passing the crown down to her sister-in-law's young cousin and ward, Greta. (History glossed over the reaction of her sons, but neither of them ever challenged the decision.) She never married, but ruled with the help of three trusted advisors for a long and prosperous time, giving the kingdom wealth and peace that stayed long after her death.
Gerard thinks that this should happen more often. In fact, he thinks that women should be allowed to do whatever the hell they want to do, up to and including taking jobs like this from men if they happen to be more qualified. He's aware that this makes him a minority (and also aware that he might not care so much did he not feel some of the sting himself, thanks to his title), but he's never much cared about that. He's just always earnestly, almost painfully, wanted to make the world a better place in some way, and this seems like a good place to start.
The times he really, seriously thinks about this (which happen pretty often) are some of the only times that he regrets not being first in line for the throne; if he were the -- queen, he supposes, more amused than anything else -- he could have the sort of influence for change he needs. Instead, this falls to Mikey and as much as he loves his brother, as well as they get along, he has to admit that Mikey will never have his ambition. He's far from lazy, of course, he's motivated when he wants to be, his dreams and goals are just much less far-reaching and while he'd never leave wrongs unrighted, he wouldn't go looking for wrongs to right either, not the way Gerard does. He's lucky at least to have the next best thing -- the trust and admiration of his brother, to the extent that he's fairly sure Mikey would listen to him to a point regarding the implementation of new measures giving more rights and privileges to women once the crown is his. It's not quite the same, of course, but he plans to take advantage of this as much as he can anyway.
In the meantime, Gerard sits back to study his handiwork proudly, pleased that he can still create things like this mural. It's not finished yet -- maybe two-thirds of the huge stone wall are still blank -- but the part that's filled in bears a beautiful young princess (female, Gerard decided earlier) in a stunning pink and silver ball gown, holding a sword nearly half her size over her head, both the weapon and her dress streaked liberally with blood. She's triumphantly standing on the head of a dragon, the body of the beast and the outlines of cheering villagers sketched in behind her. More scenes of feminine victory will fill the rest of the wall and maybe, Gerard thinks, this might help them come true sooner.
* * *
Two years later, an enormous, oddly glowing rock falls from the sky and lands on the castle; by some miracle, the only damage sustained is to the guest wing bearing Gerard's mural. For weeks, villagers from far and wide pitch in to help clean up the rubble, and Gerard tries to put the painting back together, but he's missing a few pieces. It doesn't matter, his parents reassure him, they'll build a new one and he can paint it again, but it's still disappointing.
The fact that the rock is discovered to be magical, made of some material created by sorcerers from a few kingdoms over, and engraved with a prophecy that appeared on the surface after a week, doesn't make it any better. Prophecies are a dime a dozen among kingdoms like this; Gerard's heard enough stories of the one King Peter of Wilmette found on the inside of his consort's hat to be unimpressed. He's willing to bet that some insignficant solution will be found within a few months, everyone will be impressed by the cleverness of whoever solved it, and then they'll settle back to wait for it to be fulfilled. When one is the male princess of a magical kingdom, few things come as a surprise anymore.
* * *
It never fails to be a surprise as to how much things can change.
Then again, Gerard thinks as he takes a deep breath, studying himself in the mirror, running his hands through his hair and adjusting his cravat one last time in preparation for the audience with his parents, if change was never a surprise there would be no more intrigue in life. Everything would be expected, known in advance, each change carefully planned and life would be a simple progression. He'd never want that; still, he thinks that sometimes he would like a little more warning or advance notice regarding certain changes in his life.
It's been five years since the magical rock hit the castle, three years since Gerard finished his new mural (much better than the previous one, he thought in satisfaction), a year and a half since Mikey disappeared, fifteen months since he sent back word that he'd eloped with their estate manager Brian Schechter, and nine months since he sent another letter stating that they were planning on living on the outskirts of the kingdom and not returning to the castle again. Gerard loves his brother, more than anyone in the world, but upon receiving that letter he could have happily strangled him and not regretted it for maybe a full minute.
It's not that Gerard isn't happy for him -- he is. He never saw signs of this while Brian was teaching Mikey about how to run the castle, but he knows that Brian is a good man, better than almost any he's ever met, and he knows he'll treat Mikey well. (Just to make sure, in response to Brian's letter apologizing for not having a chance to ask Gerard's blessing for the marriage, Gerard wrote a four-foot-long scroll filled with warnings that anyone living with Mikey would need to remember -- things like "never let him tend a fire", "keep him away from the local sorcerors", and "under no circumstances should he ever be allowed near a catapult".) As for Mikey's letters, well, he's never been overtly emotional, but it's still obvious that he's very much in love, and Gerard could never begrudge him that. The only thing he dislikes about the entire situation was that he wasn't present at the wedding.
That, and the fact that Gerard is now the heir to the throne, but he can't inherit it or even be properly included in the succession unless he marries first, because of his rank as Princess. That's the thing he dislikes most of all, if one wanted to phrase it very, very kindly. (His own thoughts on the matter require words that he couldn't ever say out loud if he wants the queen's heart to keep beating.)
He's never had too much pressure to marry before, because Mikey's healthy and attractive and everyone assumed he would make a good match -- no one counted on his making said match on the opposite end of the kingdom and leaving Gerard, at age twenty-nine, in need of a husband. And unfortunately, in another one of those double standards that he hates with every fiber of his being, while twenty-nine is a perfectly acceptable age for an unmarried man, it's downright scandalous for an unmarried princess, so Gerard's hopes for a decent marriage are now slimmer than they've ever been before.
It's not like his prospects have ever truly been dim, at least -- he's attractive and he likes to think his personality's acceptable (his views may be more radical than about eighty percent of the kingdom, but he refuses to apologize for that) -- but there are only so many single and eligible aristocrats in the kingdom. There are quite a few princes scattered across the continent (and one of them, Prince Bert, even courted Gerard for a long time, years ago, but no one is allowed to breathe a word of this anymore) and the neighbouring kingdom, King Peter's, is absolutely brimming with young men of wealth and position. Gerard's met most of them, from Andrew, Count Menomonee, to the three marquises, all named Alexander and all almost young enough to be Gerard's sons, and none are the sort of men he would like to marry. He supposes that for a spinster princess, his standards are too high, but he downright refuses, and always has refused, to marry for anything less than what his brother's ended up with. Never has this been a problem before now.
The truth is, Gerard has nothing against marriage -- he wants to marry -- but the assorted aristocrats of his own and his neighbouring kingdoms have as little interest in marriage with him as he does with them. He's had ample opportunity to fall in love with one of them, but it simply hasn't happened and after years of being sure that he only needed marry for love, he can't make the abrupt switch into needing to do so out of duty, and soon. So he's single, a few months past his thirtieth birthday, and should both of his parents die in some manner or another tomorrow, the crown would go to his nearest male cousin.
That's why Gerard asks his parents to meet him in one of the rooms of the guest wing he painted (they're always the slightest bit uncomfortable with all of the mangled dragons and bloodstained princesses, but they bear it for his sake) along with his two most trusted friends, Raymond Toro, Duke of Kearney and Robert Bryar, Earl Sabian (both highly eligible men Gerard will never find himself falling in love with) as witnesses. It's a proposal he's been thinking about for a long time and he's even dressed in his best male formal wear to please his parents as he offers it.
"This isn't working," he says without preamble; the king and queen exchange a concerned glance and the expression is mirrored on Ray's face. Bob looks mostly blank, but the grave look he gives Gerard tells him he's listening.
"You know what I mean," he continues, now starting to pace (if slowly), mostly because he hopes rather than knows it's true. He elaborates anyway, "If I stay here, sitting in the tower and -- I don't know, growing my hair out to dangle out the window or something, I'm never going to find someone to marry. Enough people are pretty sure that won't happen anyway. I know the gossip."
"Gerard, that isn't true," his mother protests earnestly, and Gerard turns to her, giving her a quick but genuine smile. Some mothers might blame their children for not attracting the appropriate suitors or for finding fault with the few appropriate suitors they did manage to attract -- not Queen Donna. Those not finding her older son to their tastes just don't know what they were missing, she always claims, and if he dismisses someone, she trusts his judgment and never even asks why. Gerard loves her for it.
"I've met every single aristocrat from either of our neighbouring kingdoms as well as our own," he says gently, more to spare her feelings than out of any real dismay of his own. "I've even tried to spend more time in private with a few of them. It never worked. They're all either spoken for or not men I could ever see myself married to. I've made up my mind. I can't keep staying here completely passive, waiting for them to come to me. I'm not going to get anything done this way."
His mother opens her mouth again, but his father lays a hand on her arm to stop her. King Donald's expression goes a little more serious as he watches his son. "You know how to get something done," he says, and it isn't a question.
This is, of course, what everything's been leading up to. Gerard nods, once, slowly. "Yes." He takes a deep breath, stops pacing, and takes a step forward before speaking. "I'm going to widen my pool -- I'm going to marry whoever I want to. If he's an aristocrat, if he's a landowner, if he's a worker, if he's a fucking stable boy -- if I pick him, I'm going to marry him. Or her," he adds after a moment, not willing to discount the possibility entirely. "But I'm done with this bullshit about rank. If I have to marry, I'll marry, but excluding hundreds of good men just because they're of low birth -- no. That's not going to happen anymore. I'm going to pick someone and no matter who he is, no matter where he's from or what he does, that's going to be that."
Silence greets this speech; Gerard looks from his friends, who knew to expect that, to his parents, who look less shocked than other rulers might at such news. He can tell that they were steeling themselves for worse and he's also aware that they know he's not done.
He takes another breath and drops the other shoe. "I'm leaving the castle."
Queen Donna lets out a quiet, distressed sound at this, moving as if to stand -- the king's restraining hand on her arm and Ray's reassuring hand on her shoulder make her go still for the moment. "I'm leaving the castle," Gerard continues calmly, "to widen my pool. Like I said -- I'm not going to be able to sit here and wait for something to happen. I want to go out and do something. If I have to marry, I'll marry -- but I'll marry anyone I want and I'll find him myself. If there's someone in the kingdom for me, I'm going to go out and find him myself. It'll help to see more of the kingdom, too," he adds; it's his backup plan, but he feels the need to put all of his cards on the table. There's never been too much guile in Gerard. "I haven't seen too much of it and if I'm out meeting people, talking to them, I can know what I'll be ruling over one day a lot better. It works out pretty well."
There's another silence, shorter than before if more loaded -- Bob looks serious, Ray concerned, Queen Donna anxious, King Donald thoughtful. The king is the first to speak, hand absently stroking his chin. "You've thought all of this out already," he acknowledges quietly, and Gerard nods. "You aren't asking us -- our opinion doesn't matter. You're going to do what you've decided because you know it's the best course of action for you."
"I don't need your permission," Gerard acknowledges, tilting his head a little towards his parents, then continues a little more softly, "but I'd like your blessing." He's willing to compromise this, but only so much -- it's important to him, maybe more than he realized until just now -- and at the same time, it's just as important to him that everyone he loves understand exactly why he's doing this.
There's another shoe to drop, so to speak, and Gerard decides that offering it now would be most honest, so he reaches into his waistcoat pocket to withdraw a small scroll, stepping closer to offer it to his parents. He knows without looking what their expressions will be -- shock, confusion, worry -- as expected when parents are handed their son's will.
Gerard isn't stupid, or even naïve. He knows what the kingdom has to offer -- or, rather, he doesn't, and that's why he's wary. If he leaves the castle, it'll be undercover as a common man, revealing his rank only when necessary; without the protection of his name, with few weapons and not much money, he'll be vulnerable to every sort of danger and he wants his parents to know that he's prepared himself for this in every way he possibly can. His possessions are divided evenly between Mikey, Ray, and Bob; everything he has with monetary rather than personal value is left to the people of the kingdom. To his parents, he leaves his crest, a flat gold medallion engraved with a single spiral, and a series of neatly printed reforms regarding the rights of women that he wishes for them to work to implement; he really has considered everything.
Gerard forces himself to stay still and not fidget too much with his cuffs as his parents' eyes skim over the scroll; Ray and Bob lean in as well, unfamiliar with this part of the plan, and Bob's expression grows a little darker as Ray's grows more anxious. Gerard starts chewing on his lower lip after a few minutes.
Eventually, four pairs of eyes turn to him, all serious, all assessing in their own way.
Bob is the first to react, a nod so slight it's almost imperceptible, almost lost in his unchanging expression, but Gerard is watching closely enough to catch it. And even though Bob's opinion has no bearing on the matter in practice, it's reassuring to know that he has his support and it makes him feel better about the whole venture.
Ray acts next, running a hand through his riotous curls before giving Gerard a faint, crooked smile and holding his hand out, palm up. He's too far for Gerard to take it, but the meaning's clear anyway -- he has his support and his help should he need it. Gerard returns the smile, briefly but gratefully, and relaxes a little more.
The next silence is a little longer; Ray and Bob stay respectfully silent and still, but Gerard's eyes are fixed on his parents. An odd little sound comes from the queen's throat; she swallows, then bursts out, "At least wait until the spring. Summer's almost over and autumn can be unpredictably cold -- at least in the spring you won't be cold if you can't find anywhere to stay on short notice."
Gerard laughs, more out of surprise than anything else -- it's such a motherly concern, after all, one he's not at all surprised to hear -- and then out of relief, because it's a concession, and his father's looking almost proud and so is his mother, past her worry, and for the first time in a long while he feels completely in control of his future and his destiny.
* * *
Things manage to take a full two months to start going wrong, and Gerard's honestly surprised it took that long at all.
It was a mild winter, much to Gerard's relief, and as the snow tapered off, he started quietly making plans. In early March, he finally convinced his mother that he should be allowed to go; since then, he's made remarkable headway, having aimed to get himself a fair distance from the castle before doing anything else, and he found himself in areas he didn't know rather quickly. The current village -- perhaps a whole week's journey from the castle at a brisk pace -- is one he's been staying in for nearly ten days now, a small, peaceful place that's simple and lovely, that was pleased to see him but not too ruffled by his sudden appearance in their lives, and that he's genuinely enjoyed in every way.
Gerard knows he'll have to move on soon. It's peaceful, yes, and he's truly liking a simple sort of life -- he rooms with the village baker's family, sharing a room with the son James (who's about his age) and pays his rent by working in the bakery, both baking the bread and helping the customers. He spent the first few days worried that someone might recognize him (he never intended to keep his identity as the princess anything but a secret), but soon rationalized that being so far from the castle and of modest means, few people in the village had likely even seen the castle, let alone had the ability to recognize him. Gerard has to guard his speech sometimes and it's an effort to keep his valuables hidden from especially James (he has some with him, but his emergency funds in the form of small, extremely valuable jewels are stitched into a few different places in his clothing to prevent a robbery), but overall, the existence is easy and comfortable, with no expectations and completely different standards than his usual life. He had expected to enjoy it, but he loves it even more than he anticipated.
He hasn't found anyone yet that he would be interested in marrying. A good handful of men have flirted with him and he's flirted back with a few -- after all, he's aware that he's passably attractive and when no one knows he's defying convention, he likes to think his personality's at least acceptable -- but nothing serious has come of any of it. He's even briefly considered James, but they're fairly firmly into friendship now and he wouldn't like to jeopardize that. Still, Gerard is far from even approaching seriously worried; love, to him, has always been something that he knows he could never force, something that would come to him when it was damn well ready. When he meets That Person, the one who'll be crowned prince and will ascend the throne with him when the time comes and with whom he'll rule happily and live even more so for the rest of his life, he's sure that he'll know.
It's near the middle of a warm spring when it happens. It's a bright, sunny day with a breeze that ruffles the leaves on the trees and Gerard's hair, and he's returning from delivering bread to the house of a woman with a broken leg. He thinks that he should probably start preparing to leave the village -- he knows he'll be back, he genuinely likes it here and he's made friends, but he doesn't want to stay too long in any one place just yet, not before he's seen more and at least pretended to search for his future husband. He tries to picture just the right phrasing to break the news to the baker's family; he thinks of leaving a small jewel on his pillow as payment for the kindness they've shown him.
He's deep enough in contemplation and regret -- he's always been easily distracted by his thoughts -- that he doesn't even see the dragon until its enormous scaly claw is closing around him and lifting him into the air.
Gerard's first thought, shooting through the disorienting sensation of abrupt rising higher and higher off the ground, is fuck, this is the oldest steoretype in the book. His second thought, coming as he processes the screams and cries of the villagers below, growing dimmer the higher he rises, is holy shit, a fucking dragon.
His reaction is still more of awe than anything else, though -- mostly at how skilled the beast's grip is, how it knows to close its enormous claw just tightly enough to completely immobilize Gerard but loosely enough so that he can still breathe. He feels the cool steel of its scales and the barest brush of smooth claws -- it holds him from his shoulders to his knees -- and when he turns to see its head, covered in the same gleaming forest green scales as the claw clamped around him, he's amazed by the size of it, more than twice that of a full-grown man. He quickly commits some details to memory -- he's been getting the proportion of the nostril-to-snout wrong in all of his drawings, and that's how the ears curve -- and then the dragon's huge glittering golden eye fixes onto him, empty of anything but calculation and hunger and predatory instinct, and Gerard feels his breath suddenly going shallow and his heart beating a little quicker as he thinks, shit.
Dimly, he hears the shouts of the villagers below him; he's not too far away to make out what they're saying, but it's the tone more than the words that stands out. They're panicked, anguished -- Gerard's fairly sure the dragon must have done some sort of damage to one house or another, as it's impossible to imagine something of this size traipsing through a village without ruining anything -- and utterly terrified. It also sounds like a lot of them are keeping as far away from the dragon as possible, which Gerard can't possibly blame them for but he thinks is probably not very good news regarding his own fate.
The dragon hasn't looked away from -- its prey, Gerard supposes he is -- and he doesn't think it's capable of smiling, but there's a definite satisfaction in its expression. It exhales, slow and sinister, with a low rumble in its chest; its breath smells of sulfur and brimstone and ash and he finds himself thinking irritably, where's a damn knight in shining armour when you really need one?
Just as Gerard starts to plan how to best escape from a cave (depending on the layout of this particular dragon's, of course) and trying to settle on the most appropriately dramatic last words he can think of should the worst happen (though they'll unfortunately be wasted on his audience), he realizes that the villagers' voices have died down, all but vanished, and that there's only one person talking anymore. He frowns faintly, trying to lean over the dragon's claw enough to try to see what's going on as he listens more closely to see if he can make out the words.
" -- up there! Hey, you! Yeah, you, you big ugly asshole! Down here!"
Gerard chooses to believe that the person in question -- male and, by the sound of his voice, maybe a little younger than Gerard -- is talking to the dragon and not to him. He strains a little more, though the dragon's grip is iron-tight -- still, he thinks he can make out the shape of the young man running around below, trying to catch the dragon's attention.
It's working, at least, and Gerard's grateful to no longer have to make eye contact with the eye the size of his head; the dragon's head is bending to study this new interference and he thinks it almost looks amused. The slight shift in the dragon's body means that Gerard has a marginally better view of the ground and his would-be rescuer, who looks smaller than he'd imagined -- maybe he overestimated his age, maybe he's much younger.
"Yeah, that's right!" he's yelling now, and Gerard catches some movement -- he's probably waving his arms or something. "Down here. See me now? Yeah, you do. Look, no one treats people like that and I am gonna fuck your shit up, hear me? You're definitely going down for this, thanks to me, and you better remember that."
The dragon lets out something that sounds like a low, muffled snort, seeming to find this new pseudo-threat entertaining enough to live for the moment.
"I'm not a damsel in distress," Gerard calls once he has enough breath left to manage noise, as there seems to be a lull in the yelling.
The dragon seems to have lost interest in Gerard for now, but the silence from the other man is oddly eloquent. "What?" he finally demands after a moment, as if not sure he's heard right.
"I'm not a damsel in distress!" Gerard yells again, a little louder now that he's starting to get the hang of breathing with a claw wrapped around his chest. "Just because I'm -- " He stops, abruptly, clamping his lips together; he'd been about to say "a princess", but of course no one knew that here, of course the probably-far-younger man wouldn't have recognized him as such. "In distress," he finishes instead, lamely, "doesn't mean I'm totally helpless."
There's another telling silence; if the dragon had been human, it would have certainly enjoyed watching this unfold, but it mostly simply looks bored, waiting for it to finish. "You're in a dragon's claw," his rescuer finally says, and though it's difficult to detect emotion due to the volume of his voice, Gerard thinks he sounds kind of incredulous. "You're like thirty feet off the ground. You think you have things under control?"
"I didn't say that," Gerard returns, as calmly as possible under the circumstances. "I just said I'm not totally helpless."
"Yeah, I can tell," shouts his rescuer, and it's difficult to imbue loud sound with the subtleties of sarcasm, but he manages. "You're in a dragon's claw. How successful is your escape plan going to be?"
Gerard scowls faintly, knowing no one but the dragon can see it. "I was working on one. Hard to tell before I see the dragon's cave, the layouts of them are all pretty different, I'd imagine, but -- "
"Dude!" It's much easier to sound impatient in loud tones, or so Gerard is discovering. "Do you actually not want my help? It's a fucking dragon! I don't know you and -- I don't know, I'm sure you're an awesome escape artist and all, but seriously, you're not getting away from this yourself. Dragon."
He says the last word in two drawn-out syllables, as if he thinks Gerard's never heard it before; it's obvious that he thinks Gerard is a little out of his mind anyway. And while he has his pride, he's not stupid, so he yells down, as graciously as he possibly can under the circumstances, "Thank you for offering your assistance when nothing but helping another is on the line; I'm most indebted to you and I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart." It's the reply he's been formally coached to give, which he doubts his rescuer will know.
There's a brief beat of silence during which he could swear even the dragon holds its breath; then, with a hint of amusement (again difficult to hear at this volume), comes the reply "That'll work, I guess."
Another, longer silence comes from the ground; Gerard strains to see what's going on around the claw of the dragon, who he's almost honestly almost forgotten is there. It's turned its head a little to watch the ground and lets out a muffled sort of snort, sounding almost irritated. Gerard's rescuer is talking, he thinks, but he can't hear him until he lets out a triumphant "there, you big bastard!"
There's a thump loud enough for Gerard to hear and the dragon screams, a loud, angry, rough sound that makes Gerard wince and close his eyes as the beast violently turns from side to side, jerking him through the air along with it. He finally opens an eye against the sharp motion, looking around to get his bearings, and he can't tell from up here, but judging by the way the dragon's moving and what he can see below, he thinks its tail is staked to the ground.
Gerard's estimation of his rescuer shoots up several hundred points.
The dragon growls, a vibration so powerful that Gerard can feel it in his ribs; he can also feel the tension in its claws as it tightens its hold on him, just barely. He feels a sudden heat, which he assumes is a burst of flame from the dragon's mouth, aimed to the ground; it feels like the tips of his hair might be singed, but the cries from below are startled rather than distressed, so he assumes the dragon hasn't hit anything.
After this last-ditch effort at violence, he isn't sure what to expect, but soon he feels the shift in the dragon's muscles as he's pushed downward with the claw, just as a disgusting tearing sound fills the air. The dragon takes a step or two forward and Gerard realizes it must have ripped its tail free of the stake.
The good news is that this means the dragon's in too much pain to wreak further havoc on the village; the better news is that the pain is distracting it from its prey and it lets go of Gerard. Or, at least, he thinks this is better news until he processes just how far above the ground he is and starts to fall.
He thinks he hears someone yelling as he drops through the air, but he can't tell, and it seems to be only a second before he's on the ground, unable to think of or fear what sort of reception it'll have for him -- and what actually happens is that he lands on something solid and warm, hard, but does so awkwardly, so he's definitely alive but it's not a gentle landing.
"Ow," says Gerard, tentatively sitting up.
"Ow," says the solid and warm thing he landed on, shifting around a little under him.
Gerard immediately shifts back in turn, rather awkwardly -- the solid and warm thing is a person, after all -- and tries to stand, then immediately thinks better of it as sparks of pain flicker across the back of his left knee. "Sorry," he says distracted, just moving to sit to the side for now. "Are you -- " and as the wincing face of the person comes into view among the shifting, Gerard abruptly breaks off.
It's his rescuer, of that he's almost completely positive, but to say that he's nothing like Gerard expects is to drastically understate. For one thing, despite the fact that Gerard correctly estimated his height (or lack thereof), he was wrong about reestimating his age -- he's definitely only some years younger than Gerard himself. He's dressed simply, in clothes that are practical and a little worn, and his arms have unusual-looking tattoos all but covering them. His hair is dark, a little messy and slightly longer on one side, and his eyes are a vivid colour that looks like green in the current light. Despite his small build, Gerard felt when falling onto him that his muscles are in perfect working order.
Gerard really hopes he isn't staring, though he doesn't think his rescuer's noticed; he's still squirming around, trying to get comfortable, wincing again as he attempts to sit up and tests his weight. "Shit," he mutters darkly, poking at his ankle for injuries and grimacing. "Think I sprained it when you landed."
"Why did you try to catch me if you knew I was bigger than you?" Gerard asks, because it's the first thing to pop into his head.
"No, I'm fine, thanks for offering," he mutters under his breath, too casual to really sound offended, as he continues tentatively feeling around his ankle. "How was I supposed to know you were bigger than me?"
Gerard leans back a little more in order to study him again. "I'm guessing you can safely assume that most people are bigger than you are." His mother tried for years to tell him how important tact was in dealing with diplomats and matters of state, but Gerard never really got the hang of it.
His rescuer stops his explorations for the source of injury and looks up slowly, expression a little incredulous. He opens his mouth but then, to Gerard's relief, he just offers a rather sheepish grin. "Yeah, that's true," he admits brightly. "It's something I generally do." It's a response that's more statement of fact than self-deprecating even if he would have been fully within his rights to get annoyed by the comment, and Gerard likes him better for doing it.
It does, however, make him feel a little guilty, so he pokes lightly at his ankle, making his rescuer wince. "Sorry about that. If I'd known I was going to hurt you I would've aimed my fall differently."
His rescuer laughs, which Gerard decides he likes. "And broken your neck? That would've made me feel pretty awesome, yeah." He reaches out and lightly touches Gerard's knee in turn, which makes him shudder a little and he hopes it seems like it's just from pain. He's surprised that he even noticed the injury while looking for his own. "Not like you're completely unscathed either."
"I'm Gerard," Gerard says abruptly, because it feels strange to be affect by someone's touch before an introduction; he even offers his hand.
"Like the princess?" his rescuer returns cheerfully, taking his hand without doing anything with it just yet.
Gerard feels himself start and hopes it wasn't as visible as it felt. No one who's heard his name here has made the connection right away (or, really, at all), at least not out loud, and this far from the castle he honestly didn't expect anyone to. "Yeah," is all he actually says, as casually as he can manage.
"Cool," is the thankfully blasé reply, then his rescuer lightly squeezes Gerard's hand and adds, "I'm Frank."
Frank, Gerard thinks, and likes that too. "Thanks for -- y'know, saving my life," he says after a moment, dropping Frank's hand. "I really do appreciate it, and I'm really sorry for hurting you. Here, I'll -- carry you back to my place or something so that we can -- "
"You are not going to do that," Frank puts in, sounding a little horrified. "No. No way."
"You saved my life," Gerard repeats as firmly as possible, ignoring his automatic wince as he tries to put his weight on his hurt knee. "It's the least I can do, seriously."
"Your knee," Frank protests.
"Your ankle," Gerard counters.
They look at one another for a moment, struck by the validity of each another's points.
"Well," Frank says at length. "I'm pretty sure we can agree that we're both definitely in distress right now."
Part Two
Author: blindmadness
Word Count: 37100
Pairing: Frank Iero/Gerard Way (mentioned Mikey Way/Brian Schechter and Pete Wentz/Patrick Stump, past Frank Iero/Brendon Urie, and implied Ray Toro/Bob Bryar)
Rating: R? There's not-too-detailed porn.
Fandom/'Verse: Bandom; Belleville and Wilmette-'verse
Summary: When one is the male princess of a magical kingdom, few things come as a surprise anymore. Princess Gerard Way of the kingdom of Belleville sets out on a quest to fulfill a prophecy and encounters dragons, climbs mountains, runs from volcanoes, banters with King Peter of Wilmette, and finds true love along the way.
Notes: OH BOY, WHERE TO START.
Written for peridium for mcr4u; obviously it, um, got a little bit out of hand. o__o Its original estimate was 15k and a good 34k of it was written over the course of two weeks (yeah, that's right). This is officially the longest complete thing I've ever, ever written, fandom or original, and quite possibly my favourite 'verse that I'm now going to be writing in forever and ever, thank you. >__>
LOTS OF PEOPLE TO THANK FOR HELPING CREATE THIS MONSTER. Firstly, the wonderful ladies of e5chat for letting me babble about my ideas when this was just in its fetal stage and convincing me that it was worth expanding into this enormous little fucker (you know who you are ♥). Secondly, lessthangreat, skyfalling, and candidlily for flailing over the first dragon scene and reassuring me that yes, it was actually not bad at all, and then once again for letting me give them a surprise piece of information about something near the end and reacting to it like I hoped they would. A million billion zillion thanks to burgaw for foregoing sleep and battling work and faily internets to give me a last-minute beta job for this when I had none; she is utterly amazing, made some great suggestions, and inflated my ego a lot while doing so. A million billion thanks to lessthangreat and thelemic for providing a test audience and enjoying it more than I'd dared to hope for, also inflating my ego quite a bit.
Last but not least, thank you to mcee for inadvertantly giving me my girlfriend to write for, because had I not had the reassurance that my recipient would love whatever I did, I probably wouldn't have had the courage to indulge a billion silly little whims and expand this into what it is now. ♥
And I Dream Of What I Need
It's not at all, Princess Gerard Way of the kingdom of Belleville thinks as he carefully lines the stone of the castle wall with a streak of vivid red, like he's complaining or like he's truly unhappy with his life.
By all standards, his life is really pretty damn good. The ideals of princesses getting less of an education than princes was vaguely old-fashioned even in his grandparents' time; now, it's simply primeval and so Gerard received the same education that Mikey's a year away from finishing. He's not lacking in any privileges that come with being royalty -- the castle, the prestige and influence, the access to more or less any material possessions he'd like, and the ability to express his views throughout the kingdom.
It's not even that being a princess is so bad. It's a little strange, sure, that his entire life is defined by a mistaken title; expectations surrounding him would be drastically different were he a prince like Mikey. King Donald never wastes an opportunity to mention that he was against the ancient midwife that had helped his mother-in-law deliver his wife also presiding over the birth of his firstborn child; it was thanks to her nearly-gone eyesight that the joyous announcement that a princess was born to the king and queen was made. For reasons Gerard had never had explained to his satisfaction, the titles of the royal children were carved into the family tree within minutes of their birth, so by the time the mistake was discovered, he was Princess Gerard and would be for the rest of his life. (He supposes he should be grateful that he got a masculine name -- something about tradition with passing a name down, though no one for a few generations has even been named Gerard -- because his life would be even more awkward otherwise. It's one of the things that makes him relieved he wasn't actually born a girl.)
Actually, a lot of the time, Gerard's all right with the princess thing. He has more free time than Mikey, who will soon be enduring lessons in statecraft and diplomacy and treasury management and all sorts of important tasks and information for the heir to the throne. Gerard's already getting a few of these lessons, of course, because his parents wouldn't dream of excluding him, but they're less important for him as he won't be ruling, so he can afford to miss some (plus he's studied most of it on his own for years). This free time gives him a chance to do things like paint an enormous mural in the new guest wing of the castle; his parents have given him free rein, so he's working through buckets of paint on the largest of the walls right now.
He has no pressure to find a husband (or wife, but he's less inclined to look there these days) like Mikey's starting to get; at the same time, he meets a hell of a lot of attractive knights who come by on quests or services to the crown (and are sometimes interested in the unusual princess, too). He even has a closet full of gorgeous, elaborate gowns, usually sent as birthday gifts from kingdoms close enough to feel the need for politeness but far enough away to not know that he happens to be male. Gerard never writes back to tell them that he is, because the gowns are absolutely beautiful and some are surprisingly comfortable and even flatter his figure well. (His parents feel vaguely awkward about this, but they've never stopped him on the occasions he decides to appear in public wearing the gowns. Sometimes he claims it's to show goodwill to the kingdoms who sent them, but usually he simply says that he likes them, and the king and queen shake their heads but allow it.)
No, Gerard's own life isn't what concerns him -- his parents are forward-thinking people who wouldn't dream of taking up old practices with their older son. What frustrates him is the general attitude towards women in the society; while things have definitely progressed in the past few generations, the society could still stand improvement. The fact that his title matters more than his gender is obnoxious sometimes -- it's not that he wants to inherit the kingdom, but being unable to do so simply because he has a female title is just unfair. He knows that almost nowhere can women inherit property before men, even if they're older, even when they're royalty. There are even convoluted rules in his own kingdom regarding what happens to a widow's property. Queens generally still hold power, even if it's diminished, after their husbands (or, rarely, wives) die, but the average woman (and, more often, the poor women) is left at a complete loss and next to powerless when left widowed. And that's just the start, and to put it bluntly, it pisses Gerard off.
He spends a lot of his free time reading scrolls in one of the castle's enormous libraries. It started when he was in his early teens and discovered (among the stories of his ancestor founding the kingdom and naming it for the small village in the violent area he'd grown up in) a scroll about Queen Maja, the queen of a kingdom on the other side of the world. She was the older of two sisters and inherited the crown along with her husband, though she had a history of ruling more strongly than he ever did, and had two sons; however, she broke every law of inheritance by passing the crown down to her sister-in-law's young cousin and ward, Greta. (History glossed over the reaction of her sons, but neither of them ever challenged the decision.) She never married, but ruled with the help of three trusted advisors for a long and prosperous time, giving the kingdom wealth and peace that stayed long after her death.
Gerard thinks that this should happen more often. In fact, he thinks that women should be allowed to do whatever the hell they want to do, up to and including taking jobs like this from men if they happen to be more qualified. He's aware that this makes him a minority (and also aware that he might not care so much did he not feel some of the sting himself, thanks to his title), but he's never much cared about that. He's just always earnestly, almost painfully, wanted to make the world a better place in some way, and this seems like a good place to start.
The times he really, seriously thinks about this (which happen pretty often) are some of the only times that he regrets not being first in line for the throne; if he were the -- queen, he supposes, more amused than anything else -- he could have the sort of influence for change he needs. Instead, this falls to Mikey and as much as he loves his brother, as well as they get along, he has to admit that Mikey will never have his ambition. He's far from lazy, of course, he's motivated when he wants to be, his dreams and goals are just much less far-reaching and while he'd never leave wrongs unrighted, he wouldn't go looking for wrongs to right either, not the way Gerard does. He's lucky at least to have the next best thing -- the trust and admiration of his brother, to the extent that he's fairly sure Mikey would listen to him to a point regarding the implementation of new measures giving more rights and privileges to women once the crown is his. It's not quite the same, of course, but he plans to take advantage of this as much as he can anyway.
In the meantime, Gerard sits back to study his handiwork proudly, pleased that he can still create things like this mural. It's not finished yet -- maybe two-thirds of the huge stone wall are still blank -- but the part that's filled in bears a beautiful young princess (female, Gerard decided earlier) in a stunning pink and silver ball gown, holding a sword nearly half her size over her head, both the weapon and her dress streaked liberally with blood. She's triumphantly standing on the head of a dragon, the body of the beast and the outlines of cheering villagers sketched in behind her. More scenes of feminine victory will fill the rest of the wall and maybe, Gerard thinks, this might help them come true sooner.
* * *
Two years later, an enormous, oddly glowing rock falls from the sky and lands on the castle; by some miracle, the only damage sustained is to the guest wing bearing Gerard's mural. For weeks, villagers from far and wide pitch in to help clean up the rubble, and Gerard tries to put the painting back together, but he's missing a few pieces. It doesn't matter, his parents reassure him, they'll build a new one and he can paint it again, but it's still disappointing.
The fact that the rock is discovered to be magical, made of some material created by sorcerers from a few kingdoms over, and engraved with a prophecy that appeared on the surface after a week, doesn't make it any better. Prophecies are a dime a dozen among kingdoms like this; Gerard's heard enough stories of the one King Peter of Wilmette found on the inside of his consort's hat to be unimpressed. He's willing to bet that some insignficant solution will be found within a few months, everyone will be impressed by the cleverness of whoever solved it, and then they'll settle back to wait for it to be fulfilled. When one is the male princess of a magical kingdom, few things come as a surprise anymore.
* * *
It never fails to be a surprise as to how much things can change.
Then again, Gerard thinks as he takes a deep breath, studying himself in the mirror, running his hands through his hair and adjusting his cravat one last time in preparation for the audience with his parents, if change was never a surprise there would be no more intrigue in life. Everything would be expected, known in advance, each change carefully planned and life would be a simple progression. He'd never want that; still, he thinks that sometimes he would like a little more warning or advance notice regarding certain changes in his life.
It's been five years since the magical rock hit the castle, three years since Gerard finished his new mural (much better than the previous one, he thought in satisfaction), a year and a half since Mikey disappeared, fifteen months since he sent back word that he'd eloped with their estate manager Brian Schechter, and nine months since he sent another letter stating that they were planning on living on the outskirts of the kingdom and not returning to the castle again. Gerard loves his brother, more than anyone in the world, but upon receiving that letter he could have happily strangled him and not regretted it for maybe a full minute.
It's not that Gerard isn't happy for him -- he is. He never saw signs of this while Brian was teaching Mikey about how to run the castle, but he knows that Brian is a good man, better than almost any he's ever met, and he knows he'll treat Mikey well. (Just to make sure, in response to Brian's letter apologizing for not having a chance to ask Gerard's blessing for the marriage, Gerard wrote a four-foot-long scroll filled with warnings that anyone living with Mikey would need to remember -- things like "never let him tend a fire", "keep him away from the local sorcerors", and "under no circumstances should he ever be allowed near a catapult".) As for Mikey's letters, well, he's never been overtly emotional, but it's still obvious that he's very much in love, and Gerard could never begrudge him that. The only thing he dislikes about the entire situation was that he wasn't present at the wedding.
That, and the fact that Gerard is now the heir to the throne, but he can't inherit it or even be properly included in the succession unless he marries first, because of his rank as Princess. That's the thing he dislikes most of all, if one wanted to phrase it very, very kindly. (His own thoughts on the matter require words that he couldn't ever say out loud if he wants the queen's heart to keep beating.)
He's never had too much pressure to marry before, because Mikey's healthy and attractive and everyone assumed he would make a good match -- no one counted on his making said match on the opposite end of the kingdom and leaving Gerard, at age twenty-nine, in need of a husband. And unfortunately, in another one of those double standards that he hates with every fiber of his being, while twenty-nine is a perfectly acceptable age for an unmarried man, it's downright scandalous for an unmarried princess, so Gerard's hopes for a decent marriage are now slimmer than they've ever been before.
It's not like his prospects have ever truly been dim, at least -- he's attractive and he likes to think his personality's acceptable (his views may be more radical than about eighty percent of the kingdom, but he refuses to apologize for that) -- but there are only so many single and eligible aristocrats in the kingdom. There are quite a few princes scattered across the continent (and one of them, Prince Bert, even courted Gerard for a long time, years ago, but no one is allowed to breathe a word of this anymore) and the neighbouring kingdom, King Peter's, is absolutely brimming with young men of wealth and position. Gerard's met most of them, from Andrew, Count Menomonee, to the three marquises, all named Alexander and all almost young enough to be Gerard's sons, and none are the sort of men he would like to marry. He supposes that for a spinster princess, his standards are too high, but he downright refuses, and always has refused, to marry for anything less than what his brother's ended up with. Never has this been a problem before now.
The truth is, Gerard has nothing against marriage -- he wants to marry -- but the assorted aristocrats of his own and his neighbouring kingdoms have as little interest in marriage with him as he does with them. He's had ample opportunity to fall in love with one of them, but it simply hasn't happened and after years of being sure that he only needed marry for love, he can't make the abrupt switch into needing to do so out of duty, and soon. So he's single, a few months past his thirtieth birthday, and should both of his parents die in some manner or another tomorrow, the crown would go to his nearest male cousin.
That's why Gerard asks his parents to meet him in one of the rooms of the guest wing he painted (they're always the slightest bit uncomfortable with all of the mangled dragons and bloodstained princesses, but they bear it for his sake) along with his two most trusted friends, Raymond Toro, Duke of Kearney and Robert Bryar, Earl Sabian (both highly eligible men Gerard will never find himself falling in love with) as witnesses. It's a proposal he's been thinking about for a long time and he's even dressed in his best male formal wear to please his parents as he offers it.
"This isn't working," he says without preamble; the king and queen exchange a concerned glance and the expression is mirrored on Ray's face. Bob looks mostly blank, but the grave look he gives Gerard tells him he's listening.
"You know what I mean," he continues, now starting to pace (if slowly), mostly because he hopes rather than knows it's true. He elaborates anyway, "If I stay here, sitting in the tower and -- I don't know, growing my hair out to dangle out the window or something, I'm never going to find someone to marry. Enough people are pretty sure that won't happen anyway. I know the gossip."
"Gerard, that isn't true," his mother protests earnestly, and Gerard turns to her, giving her a quick but genuine smile. Some mothers might blame their children for not attracting the appropriate suitors or for finding fault with the few appropriate suitors they did manage to attract -- not Queen Donna. Those not finding her older son to their tastes just don't know what they were missing, she always claims, and if he dismisses someone, she trusts his judgment and never even asks why. Gerard loves her for it.
"I've met every single aristocrat from either of our neighbouring kingdoms as well as our own," he says gently, more to spare her feelings than out of any real dismay of his own. "I've even tried to spend more time in private with a few of them. It never worked. They're all either spoken for or not men I could ever see myself married to. I've made up my mind. I can't keep staying here completely passive, waiting for them to come to me. I'm not going to get anything done this way."
His mother opens her mouth again, but his father lays a hand on her arm to stop her. King Donald's expression goes a little more serious as he watches his son. "You know how to get something done," he says, and it isn't a question.
This is, of course, what everything's been leading up to. Gerard nods, once, slowly. "Yes." He takes a deep breath, stops pacing, and takes a step forward before speaking. "I'm going to widen my pool -- I'm going to marry whoever I want to. If he's an aristocrat, if he's a landowner, if he's a worker, if he's a fucking stable boy -- if I pick him, I'm going to marry him. Or her," he adds after a moment, not willing to discount the possibility entirely. "But I'm done with this bullshit about rank. If I have to marry, I'll marry, but excluding hundreds of good men just because they're of low birth -- no. That's not going to happen anymore. I'm going to pick someone and no matter who he is, no matter where he's from or what he does, that's going to be that."
Silence greets this speech; Gerard looks from his friends, who knew to expect that, to his parents, who look less shocked than other rulers might at such news. He can tell that they were steeling themselves for worse and he's also aware that they know he's not done.
He takes another breath and drops the other shoe. "I'm leaving the castle."
Queen Donna lets out a quiet, distressed sound at this, moving as if to stand -- the king's restraining hand on her arm and Ray's reassuring hand on her shoulder make her go still for the moment. "I'm leaving the castle," Gerard continues calmly, "to widen my pool. Like I said -- I'm not going to be able to sit here and wait for something to happen. I want to go out and do something. If I have to marry, I'll marry -- but I'll marry anyone I want and I'll find him myself. If there's someone in the kingdom for me, I'm going to go out and find him myself. It'll help to see more of the kingdom, too," he adds; it's his backup plan, but he feels the need to put all of his cards on the table. There's never been too much guile in Gerard. "I haven't seen too much of it and if I'm out meeting people, talking to them, I can know what I'll be ruling over one day a lot better. It works out pretty well."
There's another silence, shorter than before if more loaded -- Bob looks serious, Ray concerned, Queen Donna anxious, King Donald thoughtful. The king is the first to speak, hand absently stroking his chin. "You've thought all of this out already," he acknowledges quietly, and Gerard nods. "You aren't asking us -- our opinion doesn't matter. You're going to do what you've decided because you know it's the best course of action for you."
"I don't need your permission," Gerard acknowledges, tilting his head a little towards his parents, then continues a little more softly, "but I'd like your blessing." He's willing to compromise this, but only so much -- it's important to him, maybe more than he realized until just now -- and at the same time, it's just as important to him that everyone he loves understand exactly why he's doing this.
There's another shoe to drop, so to speak, and Gerard decides that offering it now would be most honest, so he reaches into his waistcoat pocket to withdraw a small scroll, stepping closer to offer it to his parents. He knows without looking what their expressions will be -- shock, confusion, worry -- as expected when parents are handed their son's will.
Gerard isn't stupid, or even naïve. He knows what the kingdom has to offer -- or, rather, he doesn't, and that's why he's wary. If he leaves the castle, it'll be undercover as a common man, revealing his rank only when necessary; without the protection of his name, with few weapons and not much money, he'll be vulnerable to every sort of danger and he wants his parents to know that he's prepared himself for this in every way he possibly can. His possessions are divided evenly between Mikey, Ray, and Bob; everything he has with monetary rather than personal value is left to the people of the kingdom. To his parents, he leaves his crest, a flat gold medallion engraved with a single spiral, and a series of neatly printed reforms regarding the rights of women that he wishes for them to work to implement; he really has considered everything.
Gerard forces himself to stay still and not fidget too much with his cuffs as his parents' eyes skim over the scroll; Ray and Bob lean in as well, unfamiliar with this part of the plan, and Bob's expression grows a little darker as Ray's grows more anxious. Gerard starts chewing on his lower lip after a few minutes.
Eventually, four pairs of eyes turn to him, all serious, all assessing in their own way.
Bob is the first to react, a nod so slight it's almost imperceptible, almost lost in his unchanging expression, but Gerard is watching closely enough to catch it. And even though Bob's opinion has no bearing on the matter in practice, it's reassuring to know that he has his support and it makes him feel better about the whole venture.
Ray acts next, running a hand through his riotous curls before giving Gerard a faint, crooked smile and holding his hand out, palm up. He's too far for Gerard to take it, but the meaning's clear anyway -- he has his support and his help should he need it. Gerard returns the smile, briefly but gratefully, and relaxes a little more.
The next silence is a little longer; Ray and Bob stay respectfully silent and still, but Gerard's eyes are fixed on his parents. An odd little sound comes from the queen's throat; she swallows, then bursts out, "At least wait until the spring. Summer's almost over and autumn can be unpredictably cold -- at least in the spring you won't be cold if you can't find anywhere to stay on short notice."
Gerard laughs, more out of surprise than anything else -- it's such a motherly concern, after all, one he's not at all surprised to hear -- and then out of relief, because it's a concession, and his father's looking almost proud and so is his mother, past her worry, and for the first time in a long while he feels completely in control of his future and his destiny.
* * *
Things manage to take a full two months to start going wrong, and Gerard's honestly surprised it took that long at all.
It was a mild winter, much to Gerard's relief, and as the snow tapered off, he started quietly making plans. In early March, he finally convinced his mother that he should be allowed to go; since then, he's made remarkable headway, having aimed to get himself a fair distance from the castle before doing anything else, and he found himself in areas he didn't know rather quickly. The current village -- perhaps a whole week's journey from the castle at a brisk pace -- is one he's been staying in for nearly ten days now, a small, peaceful place that's simple and lovely, that was pleased to see him but not too ruffled by his sudden appearance in their lives, and that he's genuinely enjoyed in every way.
Gerard knows he'll have to move on soon. It's peaceful, yes, and he's truly liking a simple sort of life -- he rooms with the village baker's family, sharing a room with the son James (who's about his age) and pays his rent by working in the bakery, both baking the bread and helping the customers. He spent the first few days worried that someone might recognize him (he never intended to keep his identity as the princess anything but a secret), but soon rationalized that being so far from the castle and of modest means, few people in the village had likely even seen the castle, let alone had the ability to recognize him. Gerard has to guard his speech sometimes and it's an effort to keep his valuables hidden from especially James (he has some with him, but his emergency funds in the form of small, extremely valuable jewels are stitched into a few different places in his clothing to prevent a robbery), but overall, the existence is easy and comfortable, with no expectations and completely different standards than his usual life. He had expected to enjoy it, but he loves it even more than he anticipated.
He hasn't found anyone yet that he would be interested in marrying. A good handful of men have flirted with him and he's flirted back with a few -- after all, he's aware that he's passably attractive and when no one knows he's defying convention, he likes to think his personality's at least acceptable -- but nothing serious has come of any of it. He's even briefly considered James, but they're fairly firmly into friendship now and he wouldn't like to jeopardize that. Still, Gerard is far from even approaching seriously worried; love, to him, has always been something that he knows he could never force, something that would come to him when it was damn well ready. When he meets That Person, the one who'll be crowned prince and will ascend the throne with him when the time comes and with whom he'll rule happily and live even more so for the rest of his life, he's sure that he'll know.
It's near the middle of a warm spring when it happens. It's a bright, sunny day with a breeze that ruffles the leaves on the trees and Gerard's hair, and he's returning from delivering bread to the house of a woman with a broken leg. He thinks that he should probably start preparing to leave the village -- he knows he'll be back, he genuinely likes it here and he's made friends, but he doesn't want to stay too long in any one place just yet, not before he's seen more and at least pretended to search for his future husband. He tries to picture just the right phrasing to break the news to the baker's family; he thinks of leaving a small jewel on his pillow as payment for the kindness they've shown him.
He's deep enough in contemplation and regret -- he's always been easily distracted by his thoughts -- that he doesn't even see the dragon until its enormous scaly claw is closing around him and lifting him into the air.
Gerard's first thought, shooting through the disorienting sensation of abrupt rising higher and higher off the ground, is fuck, this is the oldest steoretype in the book. His second thought, coming as he processes the screams and cries of the villagers below, growing dimmer the higher he rises, is holy shit, a fucking dragon.
His reaction is still more of awe than anything else, though -- mostly at how skilled the beast's grip is, how it knows to close its enormous claw just tightly enough to completely immobilize Gerard but loosely enough so that he can still breathe. He feels the cool steel of its scales and the barest brush of smooth claws -- it holds him from his shoulders to his knees -- and when he turns to see its head, covered in the same gleaming forest green scales as the claw clamped around him, he's amazed by the size of it, more than twice that of a full-grown man. He quickly commits some details to memory -- he's been getting the proportion of the nostril-to-snout wrong in all of his drawings, and that's how the ears curve -- and then the dragon's huge glittering golden eye fixes onto him, empty of anything but calculation and hunger and predatory instinct, and Gerard feels his breath suddenly going shallow and his heart beating a little quicker as he thinks, shit.
Dimly, he hears the shouts of the villagers below him; he's not too far away to make out what they're saying, but it's the tone more than the words that stands out. They're panicked, anguished -- Gerard's fairly sure the dragon must have done some sort of damage to one house or another, as it's impossible to imagine something of this size traipsing through a village without ruining anything -- and utterly terrified. It also sounds like a lot of them are keeping as far away from the dragon as possible, which Gerard can't possibly blame them for but he thinks is probably not very good news regarding his own fate.
The dragon hasn't looked away from -- its prey, Gerard supposes he is -- and he doesn't think it's capable of smiling, but there's a definite satisfaction in its expression. It exhales, slow and sinister, with a low rumble in its chest; its breath smells of sulfur and brimstone and ash and he finds himself thinking irritably, where's a damn knight in shining armour when you really need one?
Just as Gerard starts to plan how to best escape from a cave (depending on the layout of this particular dragon's, of course) and trying to settle on the most appropriately dramatic last words he can think of should the worst happen (though they'll unfortunately be wasted on his audience), he realizes that the villagers' voices have died down, all but vanished, and that there's only one person talking anymore. He frowns faintly, trying to lean over the dragon's claw enough to try to see what's going on as he listens more closely to see if he can make out the words.
" -- up there! Hey, you! Yeah, you, you big ugly asshole! Down here!"
Gerard chooses to believe that the person in question -- male and, by the sound of his voice, maybe a little younger than Gerard -- is talking to the dragon and not to him. He strains a little more, though the dragon's grip is iron-tight -- still, he thinks he can make out the shape of the young man running around below, trying to catch the dragon's attention.
It's working, at least, and Gerard's grateful to no longer have to make eye contact with the eye the size of his head; the dragon's head is bending to study this new interference and he thinks it almost looks amused. The slight shift in the dragon's body means that Gerard has a marginally better view of the ground and his would-be rescuer, who looks smaller than he'd imagined -- maybe he overestimated his age, maybe he's much younger.
"Yeah, that's right!" he's yelling now, and Gerard catches some movement -- he's probably waving his arms or something. "Down here. See me now? Yeah, you do. Look, no one treats people like that and I am gonna fuck your shit up, hear me? You're definitely going down for this, thanks to me, and you better remember that."
The dragon lets out something that sounds like a low, muffled snort, seeming to find this new pseudo-threat entertaining enough to live for the moment.
"I'm not a damsel in distress," Gerard calls once he has enough breath left to manage noise, as there seems to be a lull in the yelling.
The dragon seems to have lost interest in Gerard for now, but the silence from the other man is oddly eloquent. "What?" he finally demands after a moment, as if not sure he's heard right.
"I'm not a damsel in distress!" Gerard yells again, a little louder now that he's starting to get the hang of breathing with a claw wrapped around his chest. "Just because I'm -- " He stops, abruptly, clamping his lips together; he'd been about to say "a princess", but of course no one knew that here, of course the probably-far-younger man wouldn't have recognized him as such. "In distress," he finishes instead, lamely, "doesn't mean I'm totally helpless."
There's another telling silence; if the dragon had been human, it would have certainly enjoyed watching this unfold, but it mostly simply looks bored, waiting for it to finish. "You're in a dragon's claw," his rescuer finally says, and though it's difficult to detect emotion due to the volume of his voice, Gerard thinks he sounds kind of incredulous. "You're like thirty feet off the ground. You think you have things under control?"
"I didn't say that," Gerard returns, as calmly as possible under the circumstances. "I just said I'm not totally helpless."
"Yeah, I can tell," shouts his rescuer, and it's difficult to imbue loud sound with the subtleties of sarcasm, but he manages. "You're in a dragon's claw. How successful is your escape plan going to be?"
Gerard scowls faintly, knowing no one but the dragon can see it. "I was working on one. Hard to tell before I see the dragon's cave, the layouts of them are all pretty different, I'd imagine, but -- "
"Dude!" It's much easier to sound impatient in loud tones, or so Gerard is discovering. "Do you actually not want my help? It's a fucking dragon! I don't know you and -- I don't know, I'm sure you're an awesome escape artist and all, but seriously, you're not getting away from this yourself. Dragon."
He says the last word in two drawn-out syllables, as if he thinks Gerard's never heard it before; it's obvious that he thinks Gerard is a little out of his mind anyway. And while he has his pride, he's not stupid, so he yells down, as graciously as he possibly can under the circumstances, "Thank you for offering your assistance when nothing but helping another is on the line; I'm most indebted to you and I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart." It's the reply he's been formally coached to give, which he doubts his rescuer will know.
There's a brief beat of silence during which he could swear even the dragon holds its breath; then, with a hint of amusement (again difficult to hear at this volume), comes the reply "That'll work, I guess."
Another, longer silence comes from the ground; Gerard strains to see what's going on around the claw of the dragon, who he's almost honestly almost forgotten is there. It's turned its head a little to watch the ground and lets out a muffled sort of snort, sounding almost irritated. Gerard's rescuer is talking, he thinks, but he can't hear him until he lets out a triumphant "there, you big bastard!"
There's a thump loud enough for Gerard to hear and the dragon screams, a loud, angry, rough sound that makes Gerard wince and close his eyes as the beast violently turns from side to side, jerking him through the air along with it. He finally opens an eye against the sharp motion, looking around to get his bearings, and he can't tell from up here, but judging by the way the dragon's moving and what he can see below, he thinks its tail is staked to the ground.
Gerard's estimation of his rescuer shoots up several hundred points.
The dragon growls, a vibration so powerful that Gerard can feel it in his ribs; he can also feel the tension in its claws as it tightens its hold on him, just barely. He feels a sudden heat, which he assumes is a burst of flame from the dragon's mouth, aimed to the ground; it feels like the tips of his hair might be singed, but the cries from below are startled rather than distressed, so he assumes the dragon hasn't hit anything.
After this last-ditch effort at violence, he isn't sure what to expect, but soon he feels the shift in the dragon's muscles as he's pushed downward with the claw, just as a disgusting tearing sound fills the air. The dragon takes a step or two forward and Gerard realizes it must have ripped its tail free of the stake.
The good news is that this means the dragon's in too much pain to wreak further havoc on the village; the better news is that the pain is distracting it from its prey and it lets go of Gerard. Or, at least, he thinks this is better news until he processes just how far above the ground he is and starts to fall.
He thinks he hears someone yelling as he drops through the air, but he can't tell, and it seems to be only a second before he's on the ground, unable to think of or fear what sort of reception it'll have for him -- and what actually happens is that he lands on something solid and warm, hard, but does so awkwardly, so he's definitely alive but it's not a gentle landing.
"Ow," says Gerard, tentatively sitting up.
"Ow," says the solid and warm thing he landed on, shifting around a little under him.
Gerard immediately shifts back in turn, rather awkwardly -- the solid and warm thing is a person, after all -- and tries to stand, then immediately thinks better of it as sparks of pain flicker across the back of his left knee. "Sorry," he says distracted, just moving to sit to the side for now. "Are you -- " and as the wincing face of the person comes into view among the shifting, Gerard abruptly breaks off.
It's his rescuer, of that he's almost completely positive, but to say that he's nothing like Gerard expects is to drastically understate. For one thing, despite the fact that Gerard correctly estimated his height (or lack thereof), he was wrong about reestimating his age -- he's definitely only some years younger than Gerard himself. He's dressed simply, in clothes that are practical and a little worn, and his arms have unusual-looking tattoos all but covering them. His hair is dark, a little messy and slightly longer on one side, and his eyes are a vivid colour that looks like green in the current light. Despite his small build, Gerard felt when falling onto him that his muscles are in perfect working order.
Gerard really hopes he isn't staring, though he doesn't think his rescuer's noticed; he's still squirming around, trying to get comfortable, wincing again as he attempts to sit up and tests his weight. "Shit," he mutters darkly, poking at his ankle for injuries and grimacing. "Think I sprained it when you landed."
"Why did you try to catch me if you knew I was bigger than you?" Gerard asks, because it's the first thing to pop into his head.
"No, I'm fine, thanks for offering," he mutters under his breath, too casual to really sound offended, as he continues tentatively feeling around his ankle. "How was I supposed to know you were bigger than me?"
Gerard leans back a little more in order to study him again. "I'm guessing you can safely assume that most people are bigger than you are." His mother tried for years to tell him how important tact was in dealing with diplomats and matters of state, but Gerard never really got the hang of it.
His rescuer stops his explorations for the source of injury and looks up slowly, expression a little incredulous. He opens his mouth but then, to Gerard's relief, he just offers a rather sheepish grin. "Yeah, that's true," he admits brightly. "It's something I generally do." It's a response that's more statement of fact than self-deprecating even if he would have been fully within his rights to get annoyed by the comment, and Gerard likes him better for doing it.
It does, however, make him feel a little guilty, so he pokes lightly at his ankle, making his rescuer wince. "Sorry about that. If I'd known I was going to hurt you I would've aimed my fall differently."
His rescuer laughs, which Gerard decides he likes. "And broken your neck? That would've made me feel pretty awesome, yeah." He reaches out and lightly touches Gerard's knee in turn, which makes him shudder a little and he hopes it seems like it's just from pain. He's surprised that he even noticed the injury while looking for his own. "Not like you're completely unscathed either."
"I'm Gerard," Gerard says abruptly, because it feels strange to be affect by someone's touch before an introduction; he even offers his hand.
"Like the princess?" his rescuer returns cheerfully, taking his hand without doing anything with it just yet.
Gerard feels himself start and hopes it wasn't as visible as it felt. No one who's heard his name here has made the connection right away (or, really, at all), at least not out loud, and this far from the castle he honestly didn't expect anyone to. "Yeah," is all he actually says, as casually as he can manage.
"Cool," is the thankfully blasé reply, then his rescuer lightly squeezes Gerard's hand and adds, "I'm Frank."
Frank, Gerard thinks, and likes that too. "Thanks for -- y'know, saving my life," he says after a moment, dropping Frank's hand. "I really do appreciate it, and I'm really sorry for hurting you. Here, I'll -- carry you back to my place or something so that we can -- "
"You are not going to do that," Frank puts in, sounding a little horrified. "No. No way."
"You saved my life," Gerard repeats as firmly as possible, ignoring his automatic wince as he tries to put his weight on his hurt knee. "It's the least I can do, seriously."
"Your knee," Frank protests.
"Your ankle," Gerard counters.
They look at one another for a moment, struck by the validity of each another's points.
"Well," Frank says at length. "I'm pretty sure we can agree that we're both definitely in distress right now."
Part Two