[and i dream of what i need; 2/4]

[parenthetical]

Part One

* * *
Eventually, through the help of the villagers (congregating again now that the dragon is gone; a few apologize to Gerard for their cowardice and unwillingness to help him, and he reassures them that there's no harm done or blame to be had), Gerard and Frank arrive back at the baker's, settling in James's room (where Frank is to stay, James moving to his younger brother's room), alone for the moment. Frank's ankle is indeed sprained and Gerard's knee is twisted, and they were both advised by the village doctor to stay off of them for a week before attempting to function with the injuries again.

Honestly, Gerard is more or less pleased with this arrangement, as he finds himself unaccountably curious about Frank, who comes from an even smaller village on the outskirts of the kingdom, two days' worth of a journey from here. He works in the last stable before the enormous forest that's the Belleville-Wilmette border, providing horses for those who make the journey (he was visiting the village to buy new horseshoes from a reputable blacksmith). It's fairly profitable thanks to the amiable relations between the kingdoms, but because Frank is of low birth with few things to his name, he sees little of the money. It's a decent livelihood, though, he explains -- his boss is tempermental and sometimes shouts, but he's never struck him and he keeps to their agreements about salary.

That this is Frank's definition of a decent job -- no physical abuse and no being cheated of his money -- shocks Gerard a little, but he's starting to realize that it's this way in many of the smaller, less prosperous areas far from the castle. Not bad, but satisfied with far lower standards of living than should be acceptable.

He quietly vows to change this when he's queen, and not just for Frank's sake.

"He's not gonna be happy when I come back with orders to 'take it easy' on my foot for at least a week," Frank is saying now, in between bites of a large, fresh roll (the baker's been providing them with free food during the course of their injuries, but Gerard plans to pay him back the minute he can unobtrusively do so). "He says I'm the best he's got, not that he's got too much to begin with. Well," he amends after chewing a particularly big bite fiercely and swallowing, "he says I'm the least incompetent and someone who can actually get a goddamn job done every once in a blue moon. Which I think's kinda what he means."

Gerard grins faintly, taking a moment to chew at his own roll. He's surprised by how much he already enjoys just listening to Frank talk about himself. Though he's always liked people, talking to them and hearing about their lives and especially when they're so different from his own, he usually doesn't have quite so much anticipation for hearing even mundane, everyday details like this about someone's life. "Don't worry about it," he says, catching a crumb at the corner of his mouth with the tip of his tongue. "You saved my life, so I owe you one. I'll give you enough to shut him up even if you have to take it easy for a month."

Frank looks a little embarrassed, like he'd like to turn down the offer but can't deny a life debt. Gerard thinks that everyone in the village has been assuming that he's of relatively good birth, some low-level aristocratic family or another, and he's either exploring or fallen on hard times or run away from home for some reason, which explains his good breeding and occasional shows of wealth past what they might expect of the average person. They have no idea, he sometimes thinks wryly, but it's an innocent enough thing to have them believe and it's not like it's really that far from the truth. No one's said a word to him about it, which he appreciates -- it's like they're giving him the freedom to be whoever he decides he wants to be here and he loves that.

Still, lying -- though it's just lying by omission -- to Frank makes Gerard feel a little more guilty. Maybe it's just because he owes him so much or because he feels like Frank is a basically honest person by nature, but he can't be honest with him about this and he knows it, though that doesn't mean he has to like it.

"Thanks," Frank is saying, busying himself with finishing off his roll. "I'll really need to head back the minute the doctor says it's okay -- not that this isn't a nice place, but sitting here getting fat from the best bread ever isn't gonna do me much good in life, fun as it is."

"About that," Gerard says, hesitantly, after a moment of silent chewing from Frank; he's not entirely sure that this is a good idea, but if he doesn't ask, he'll never get an answer, so he speaks before he can think better of it.

Frank glances over at him, and Gerard forces his speech not to speed up more than a little bit. "I was wondering," he says, then takes a quick breath. "I've sort of -- I like it here, I like it a lot, but I've felt like I need to move on for a few days now -- to go see more of the kingdom, since that's the entire point of me being out here -- and I was just wondering, y'know -- "

"You should come with me!" Frank puts in unexpectedly, sitting up a little more, tone almost excited as he grins at him broadly.

Gerard's train of thought sharply derails, and he breaks off to return Frank's grin with a slightly more hesitant one. "Really? You wouldn't mind?"

"Hell no," is the definite reply. "Not at all. Having someone to go with'd be really fun and -- " He breaks off sharply in turn, now looking a little shy. "Well. I'm not -- I mean, my place -- it's really not that great," he finishes rather lamely. "I mean -- really. It -- might not be what you're used to at all."

"Good," Gerard says firmly. "That's the entire point of me being out here too. If I was living the way I'm used to, I might've as well just stayed home."

Frank looks relieved, then, his grin bright again. "Awesome. We'll head out when we can, then." Dumping the napkin full of crumbs into his mouth, he adds, "It's seriously not great, though. You might regret it. During the fall, there's a lot of rain, y'know, and there's this one spot on my roof..."

* * *
To everyone's surprise, Frank and Gerard are both able to walk, if haltingly and for short periods at a time, after only five days. The doctor is startled but cautiously optimistic -- simple luck, he proclaims it, quick healing, but they should be careful in case either injury starts to hurt again.

This means that they can leave for Frank's village earlier, which Gerard didn't realize he was looking forward to as much as he is until it happens. There's not much for either of them to pack, so they're ready to go quickly; the only difficult part is saying goodbye to everyone in the village, especially James and his family. Gerard promises to visit again as soon as possible and to write, as he feels as if he's made a friend for life.

Gerard didn't bring a horse on his kingdom-wide journey; while he might be able to blend into crowds relatively easily, but anyone with half an eye for quality of horses would be able to tell which belong to the royal stables. So Frank picks one out for him, a pretty but obviously stable slightly-larger-than-average mare that he takes to right away. Frank's own pony (Gerard can't help a soft snicker, despite the dirty look he gets for it, because of course Frank rides a pony) seems restless, but quiets quickly once Frank rubs his nose -- almost unnaturally quickly, even for someone used to working with horses. Gerard finds it interesting, anyway, to see Frank doing his work in close quarters. He charms even Gerard's mare, whom he's never met before, within minutes of knowing her; Gerard thinks Frank might just have this effect on living, breathing beings in general.

They reach Frank's village in just under two days -- two days of casual but brisk riding, stopping for food and getting distracted by talking to one another, sleeping on the ground under the shade of trees -- and it's both better and much worse than Gerard had thought.

He was half-expecting to see accommodations practically a set of dung heaps, so the sight of serviceable houses and dirt roads are a welcome sight. Still, it's obvious that this is a place where no one aspires too high, where standards are low and even a little luxury is a distant dream, and there's never too much room for happiness or contentment or even too much rest, and the fact that a place like this exists when Gerard has enough worth on his person to buy ten times this amount of land and it wouldn't be a drop in the bucket of the royal funds makes him feel a little bit sick.

It doesn't seem to have affected Frank too adversely, though, which is a relief to see; he's a little embarrassed by the state of the village as he leads Gerard to the stables, that much is true, but he's also cheerful and optimistic and kind entirely out of place here, and Gerard quietly vows that he'll get him out of there as soon as he possibly can.

Frank's boss is exactly the way Gerard pictured him, somewhere between his and Frank's heights, solid, hairy, rather filthy, and seeming to be perpetually scowling. He doesn't even seem to see Gerard as he glares down at Frank and growls, "Where the hell you been, boy? You're lucky the group we're gettin' soon ain't come by yet, you probably lazin' about up in the village like some rich ass thinkin' he's better than the rest of us, and lemme tell you, if I was a worse man the skin on your back'd be gone by now -- "

Gerard's flinching at the words, horrified that someone could speak to another human being like this, but Frank seems to be taking it perfectly calmly. His left hand's open near his thigh and empty, but he raises it as his boss draws a breath and the next second, a sapphire the size of his pinky nail is resting in his palm, the jewel Gerard gave him that morning to help ease his way back into his job.

The man breaks off mid-word in his tirade -- something about ungrateful wretches -- and stares at the gem, eyes going huge with awe and greed.

"It's real," Frank says levelly, giving him a faint but pleasant grin. "I hurt my ankle helping a rich man and he rewarded me." Gerard can't help another slight wince at this phrasing, but as the boss still hasn't noticed him, he figures it's what'll help Frank most, so he stays silent.

The man is still staring at the jewel, as if afraid to take it for fear that it'll vanish. "I'll be back to work tomorrow," Frank says cheerfully, and this seems to snap him out of it; he scoops up the sapphire quickly, examines it, then gives a grunt and a nod.

"Best use of you workin' your magic's here, anyway," he mutters under his breath, examining the gem once more before turning away from them and all but waddling off.

The words interest Gerard less than Frank's reaction does; at the word "magic", he suddenly stiffens, body going rigid, expression hardening just a little, eyes seeming to lock on a place far away until his boss is out of sight. Then, not looking at Gerard, he strides back to his pony, mounts it, and waits, grip on the reins tight, expression tighter still.

"So what did he mean by that?" Gerard waits a few minutes to ask this, until they're on their way to Frank's place, aware that it's a sensitive question but unable to help asking. "You know -- you working your magic."

Frank tenses again; if Gerard had thought last time was a fluke, now he knows for sure it wasn't. Something about this genuinely bothers him. "Y'know," he says lightly, but Gerard can tell it's difficult for him to fake a casual tone. "Nothing. I'm just -- I'm good with the horses. Better than anyone else who works here."

"Really?" Gerard asks quietly, tugging his mare to a gentle stop; Frank stops his pony as well, a foot or two ahead, but makes no reply, doesn't even turn back to look at him.

"You are good with the horses," he continues, just as quietly but knowing Frank can hear every word. "Really good. But you also healed more quickly than anyone expected and you managed to get a gem from your right pocket into your left hand within a second, making it visible just when you needed it to be." Frank tenses a little more, almost imperceptibly. "Frank." Gerard lets his voice drop more, going softer still, speaking as earnestly as he can. "You don't have to tell me what it is. But -- if it really is something -- don't tell me it's nothing. Please."

There's a long moment of silence during which Gerard worries that maybe he's overstepped. He doesn't think they know one another well enough to be completely comfortable making statements as strong as this, but he hopes that Frank's felt this too, the odd sort of sensation between them like something's being built, something that'll be strong with time, something that requires care and trust and honesty. Gerard doesn't want to push Frank away, he wants him to feel as if they could be closer, and he can only hope that Frank senses that and wants it too.

Finally, hesitantly, Frank slumps just a little, almost defeated if not necessarily -- Gerard hopes -- in a bad way. "I -- okay," he says, and he sounds vulnerable enough that Gerard suddenly wishes there wasn't two horses' worth of space between them so that he could pull Frank into his arms and hug him tightly. Instead, he inches his mare forward a little more, expression as gentle as he can make it.

"He really did mean that -- what I said," Frank begins, voice halting and uncertain; Gerard almost says that he doesn't have to talk about whatever it is, but curiosity wins over concern. "He thinks that's all. But -- it's not." He stops, closes his eyes, takes a deep breath -- the real story, it's obvious, starts here.

"I -- can do things." Frank's tone is a little distant now, head raised again, eyes fixed on that same spot in the distance as if this is the only way he can talk about it. "Like -- all of what you said. Like that. Not too much and not too strong. But -- I can. I can't -- control it or anything. I don't know how it works. But -- when I want it -- it happens. It hasn't -- I haven't had it my entire life, but it's gotten a little stronger as I got older. I wanted us to be able to leave for the village earlier -- you healed because I touched you, by the way," he adds before Gerard can ask. "I need to make money, so the horses listen to me. I needed to only distract my boss when it was convenient for me, so -- he didn't see the gem until I needed him to.

"It's not," he says abruptly, then stops, obviously trying to phrase his thoughts better. "It's not -- well, it's -- some kind of magic, probably. Something. But it's not -- I'm not a sorcerer or anything. I don't know what it is. But -- it's not the same thing. I'm just -- me. That's all." He looks at Gerard now, finally, as if daring him to deny this.

Gerard can't ever, not with anything in him, imagine denying something like this. He's leaning across his mare, his grip on the reins tightening in excitement. "I -- that's so -- damn," is all he manages at first, breathless with wonder. "I thought -- it was probably something like that, but I've never -- " This isn't strictly true; there's a castle sorcerer, of course, and he's met the assortment who interpret prophecies as well as King Peter's court sorcerer Nathaniel, but this is different. This isn't someone who's done this their entire lives, whose magic is their calling, their lifeblood, as each sorcerer clearly believes -- this is magic in a simple, everyday setting in a simple, average person, and that makes it all the more striking. "What -- what else can you do? What else have you done?"

Now that the anxiety of the revelation's over, Frank's obviously relaxed, urging his pony towards the makeshift stable in front of the building where he rooms. "It's up here. C'mon, I'll show you once we get inside."

It turns out that Frank can also light candles, float small objects a distance of a few feet, open and close doors, make hard chairs feel a little more comfortable, and gather a little more strength in his frame than he should by right have. They're not quite under his control, as he mentioned -- lighting the candle didn't work at first and Gerard jumped with surprise when it had sprung alive a few minutes later -- but it's still one of the most fascinating things Gerard's ever seen. He asks lots of excited questions, stopping only when he notices how short and terse Frank's replies are, how uncomfortable the subject makes him. He can't imagine this -- he'd absolutely love to have magic -- but he thinks the profession of sorcery is viewed with less prestige and more suspicion on the outskirts of the kingdom and of course anyone with the slightest hint of magic is swept into the profession, with how little the kingdom has left. He imagines Frank's had to get used to hiding it and barely understands it himself, let alone wants to develop it or do anything else with it.

"So, now that you know my dirty little secret," Frank says, with cheer that sounds a little forced but mostly natural, climbing up the small, cramped staircase to his bedroom, "you can probably see my most prized possession, too." The workers' building he lives in consists of one-story and two-story rooms, but the two-story ones hardly have any more space; Frank owns a living room, a tiny kitchen, and a small bedroom and smaller bathroom on the second floor of his rooms. Gerard's bedroom is bigger than all of it put together and he has easily a dozen more rooms in just his wing of the castle. He feels a little sick again.

Stifling it firmly -- he'll get Frank out of here one day, he resolves again, quietly -- he follows Frank into the bedroom, which contains a bed and a tiny closet and very little else. "Most prized possession?"

"Yeah -- here, sit," Frank replies, gesturing vaguely towards the bed before diving into the closet; Gerard sits amidst a chorus of soft thumps, clangs, and rustles. He's not sure he wants to know exactly what Frank even has in his closet.

"It's kind of silly," comes the muffled confession as Frank -- presumably (Gerard has to assume, as he's more or less disappeared) -- riffles through things. "But it's still really cool, I think you'll appreciate it. Now if I can just -- ha!" he exclaims triumphantly, appearing from within a small mound of clothing. "Here, catch," he adds, and tosses a small, unevenly edged rock at Gerard.

Gerard catches it and, upon closer inspection, nearly drops it. It's simple enough, vaguely in the shape of a trapezoid and only a little smaller than Gerard's hand, coloured a light grey. On one side of it is a picture, obviously vividly coloured when it was painted but now a little worn. It's only the portion of a picture, a very small detail, but it depicts the hilt of an elaborately-carved sword, smeared just barely with traces of blood, and a hand around it, bloodstained fingers holding it tightly -- an obviously feminine hand.

"Isn't it neat?" Frank asks as he emerges from the closet. "It's from the castle -- when some important magic rock or something smashed into it and tore off a bit. I was taking a horse someplace nearby, so I went to see it and I managed to get this -- it's really good. I wish I could've seen the whole thing."

Gerard can't manage to speak at all -- he thinks he gives a brief, appreciative sound -- just stares at the rock in his hands. The rock that was part of the wall he painted. The rock that Frank's kept and admired for almost six years now. The rock that's his most prized possession.

It's more than a coincidence. It feels kind of like fate. Gerard has absolutely no idea what to do with this or even how to properly sort out his feelings about it.

"It was pretty intense." The mattress bends a little bit as Frank plops down next to Gerard, who finally manages to turn back to him and smile faintly at his bright grin. "Pretty much the most exciting thing to happen around here. What'd they do with the rock, I wonder?"

Even barely knowing Frank as he does, Gerard knows that this reply is characteristic of him and it makes him smile again. "Kept it in the castle. There's a prophecy on it," he explains, feeling a little more at ease now.

Frank looks a little curious at that, despite it involving magic. "A prophecy? Really? Haven't had one of those for a while, I don't think."

Gerard does his best to not look surprised that Frank hasn't heard of the prophecy or mention that everyone he's been in contact with recently has known what it says. Strange as it is for him, he really needs to start remembering how different things are this far from the castle. "Yeah, it was carved on the rock," he says instead. "So it's being kept really carefully. I've seen it a few times." Which is the truth -- he was never too interested in it -- and something that nobles in the area have the privilege of doing should they want to.

Frank now looks a little bit fascinated, leaning in closer to hear the rest of this story. "What's it say? What's it about? Do you know it by heart?"

Most people who see the prophecy more than twice tend to learn it by heart; it helps if it's a short one, like this one is. It's something about the prophecies, probably, or maybe they're just repeated so often that people can't help but pick them up. Gerard doesn't mention this, though. Instead, he clears his throat and recites:

"'Cross the kingdom, elements of old
Combine with magic and spiral of gold.
Four elements unite as one,
Strife and war will be done.
O'er gold bring the elements four,
Unrest and trouble will be no more.
The magic you seek is the key
To fulfilling this prophecy."

Frank lets out a low whistle when Gerard finishes. "Pretty straightforward, isn't it?" he asks, tilting his head to one side. "Are they usually like that? That's kind of cool."

Gerard shrugs. "I don't know, we haven't had one since before I was born. And it sounds straightforward, but it's been around for five years and no one's figured it out yet."

"Really?" Frank looks curious again, all but bouncing a little bit on the bed. "How's that? Has anyone come close?"

Gerard can't help that quiet laugh, sitting back a little to start explaining. "Well, bits of it are easier to get than others. General consensus is that the four elements -- you know, fire, water, earth, air -- refer to the four huge landmarks sort of resembling each one -- Mount Pencey, the Southwest Sea, the Tree of Life, and Mount Hybrid. No one's really sure what about them exactly, though. I mean, you could take water from the sea and uproot the tree, but how do you move a mountain, y'know?"

Frank nods, looking even more fascinated by this explanation. "Right. And I guess bringing, like, rocks from the mountains and bits of the tree to the water didn't work out?"

Gerard's kind of impressed that Frank's already started to think about how the prophecy could be fulfilled. "No one can touch the tree," he explains. "It's -- guarded, in some way. Or so everyone assumes. No one's ever come back from trying."

"Damn," Frank murmurs, eyes widening a little. "That's a serious buzzkill. Okay, so a no on the elements. What's the spiral of gold?"

"The royal crest," Gerard replies promptly, only just stopping himself from reaching into his shirt to reveal his own. "So it probably involves the royal family in some way, just no one's figured that one out either. And magic is pretty simple too -- someone with magical ability's involved -- but we're really low on sorcerers as is, let alone those who've been able to offer up help in any way. So it's kind of stuck there for the past few years."

Frank nods again, his fascination now mixed with something that looks like regret. "It sucks that it has to stop there," he says, the regret now obvious in his tone. "It sounds -- well, it sounds amazing. I'm never going to be involved in anything like that."

It's the first time Frank's ever expressed any negative opinion about his position in life, the first time he's let himself show that it's truly a crushing disadvantage, and it all but physically pains Gerard to hear in his voice not the regret, but the resignation. That Frank sees no way to improve his life and is all right with no longer trying seems to him the greatest injustice in the world and he desperately wishes he could find some way to fix it.

And then, as suddenly as if a goddamn genie was lurking outside of the window, he can.

"Hey," Gerard says, leaning closer abruptly, then forcing himself to pull back a little so as not to scare Frank. "I said that -- I know I said that there's not too many sorcerers and shit in the kingdom and that everyone's tried and it hasn't worked, but -- they don't know about you. They don't know you exist, that you can -- that you can do things too."

Frank retreats a little, his expression tightening at the mention of his magic, but Gerard persists, voice going gentler. "Hey," he says again, grabbing Frank's hand before he can let himself think better of it. "I know it's weird for you. I know you don't like to think about it. But you've got it, and -- it's magic. Who's to say the prophecy can't be about you?"

The hand in Gerard's is limp, unmoving; Frank's expression is closed-off and cautious, as if he's afraid to let himself properly listen to what Gerard has to say. "It's not -- no," he says weakly, shaking his head. "It's not. Prophecies don't -- they just don't get made about people like me. I'm not important enough. I'm needed -- I have to stay here. I don't have anything else to do. I can't afford to do anything else."

"I'll take care of everything," Gerard says without thinking, impulsively and lightly squeezing his hand before he's even quite realized he's doing it. "I'll -- deal with your boss and make sure you have someplace to be and something to do and -- and everything. I'll provide whatever you need."

Frank now looks the slightest bit incredulous. "That's -- really nice of you," he replies slowly. "But I really -- I appreciate it, I do, but I don't -- even if you really want to, I don't think you have that kind of power."

Impatience makes Gerard's decision for him. "I'm the princess, Frank," he exclaims in hushed tones, as if someone might overhear even in the privacy of the house, squeezing his hand again. "Me. Gerard Arthur Way, older son of King Donald and Queen Donna, princess of Belleville, to be queen when my parents die, which I hope won't happen for a really long time. Here -- " He tugs his crest from his shirt, waves it at Frank before dropping it. "See? My name's the same as the princess's because I am the princess, and I have the power to do pretty much anything I want."

Frank's mouth drops open.

"And -- " Gerard reaches for the rock with his free hand, grabbing it and shaking it in front of Frank's face. "I did this, too. Me. I painted the entire wing and I redid it when the rock fell -- it looks better now, I think, but I never expected to see a piece of the old one like this again. I can't believe you kept it."

Frank takes the rock, now looking more than a little dazed, staring at it like it's the thing that surprised him, not Gerard. "The -- the princess?" he almost whispers, voice shaky.

Gerard nods, earnestly, tightening his hold on Frank's hand just barely. "Yeah. And -- I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but -- Frank, you should do this, you really should. You have to get out of here, you're so much better than -- than this place, than your life, I can tell that already, and this -- this could really do something for you even if you can't fulfill it, and no matter what happens, I promise I can get you a good place or even a good job if you want it in a really nice place because you deserve that, you really do."

There's a few minutes of silence; Frank is looking distinctly shell-shocked, not moving at all, expression staying completely still. Gerard is starting to worry that he's seriously overstepped, that he won't be able to fix this, when Frank drops the rock on the bed and reaches for Gerard's crest, holding it in his hand, studying it closely, expression still not changing. Gerard holds his breath.

Finally, Frank speaks, almost inaudibly, voice a little shaky. "I will," is what he says, then again, a little more firmly "I -- I will." His grip on the crest tightens just barely. "I -- want to. I want to get out of here. I want to do it. And -- I trust you." He glances up, giving Gerard a faint, hesitant grin that makes his breath catch; no one's ever looked at him like that, like they're turning their life over to him and trusting him to take care of it. It's a powerful feeling. "I trust you to take care of it. I want us to do it."

Gerard can't help smiling at that, slowly but with mounting hope; it's what he'd wanted, but had been too anxious to voice straight out. "You want me to come with you?"

Frank gives him a look that clearly states that if Gerard doubted this, he was obviously stupid. "Duh," he says reproachfully, holding up the crest. "Even if I didn't, you're a part of it already, remember? We need me and the golden spiral and I'm not about to steal this from you."

Gerard's sure that this is his cue to be upset that Frank is only taking him along out of necessity, but he can't find room for anything but delight and anticipation. "Okay," he says, a little breathlessly. "Where do we start?"

Frank barely needs a second to think about it. "Mount Pencey."

* * *
They leave early the next morning, early enough for Frank to tack a note to his stall at the stable reading "Here's my two weeks' notice: I quit as of two weeks ago." He confides to Gerard as they ride out of the village that he's always wanted to do something like that, and Gerard's pleased to see him stand up to his boss; when he offered to leave another jewel for him, Frank stopped him, saying firmly that he didn't deserve it.

They ride for most of the day to the next village, maybe twice the size of Frank's, where they buy supplies and another map just in case Gerard's fails them. In the evening, they camp out near the outskirts of the village to piece together the prophecy a little more.

Frank's holding Gerard's crest in his hand -- it's on a long enough chain that he can stay a comfortable distance from Gerard and still study it. It seems to fascinate him. "There's something weird about this," he says finally, thoughtfully. "Not -- maybe not outright weird. But strange. Unusual."

Gerard grins faintly; freed from any constraints of birth or responsibility, Frank's enthusiasm for everything involving this impulsive, ridiculous venture is maybe excessive but absolutely charming. "Well, there is something. Here -- " He reaches to trace one finger down the side, then tap a spot lightly. "A hinge. See? Up here, too. It's actually a locket."

Frank blinks, then grins in turn, disbelievingly. "Seriously?" He feels the hinges himself, looking thrilled. "Wow. What do you keep inside?"

"Nothing. I've never opened it." Gerard taps the opening now, a catch so small it's nearly invisible in the gold circle. "It's stuck, always has been. We always figured it's either not important or too important to unveil."

Frank looks a little happier still, then gently takes the crest back, touching the catch. He watches it for a moment, just long enough for Gerard to wonder why he's looking at it with that expression, utterly focused and intent -- then he lets out a quiet, triumphant sound and with a small click, the catch snaps open.

Gerard's eyes widen. "Holy shit!" he exclaims, genuinely impressed. "You did it! You actually did it, I thought -- you said you couldn't control it."

"I usually can't." Rather than closed-off or stiff, Frank is actually a little flushed with pleasure at his victory, and it makes Gerard even happier for him. "But -- I guess shit happens when you really need it to, huh? Here." He thrusts the crest at Gerard, eyes glowing with anticipation. "It's yours. You do the honours."

Gerard nods, taking the crest, barely able to believe that this is actually happening. He studies it for a moment, admires just how fine the work of the crest is, then -- with some effort, as it's been shut for a long time -- carefully pries the locket open.

Inside the back cover is nothing but a mirror of the spiral carved on the front; inside the front cover, embedded in gold thick enough not to give any hint of its contents, are three holes as if for gemstones, carved out in perfect circles, set in a perfect triangle. They're small, unobtrusive, and the entire thing is thin enough to just look like a heavy medallion when closed.

Both of them stare at it for a moment; neither of them seem to even breathe. Frank is the first to look up, meeting Gerard's eye with an almost blindingly bright grin.

"Elements," is all he says, in a tone of breathless awe.

Gerard feels more than a little off-balance. "God," he says, tone filled with fervent agreement. "Yeah. Yeah. But -- there's only three. Where's the fourth?"

Frank pulls back a little at this, biting his lip and frowning faintly in thought. It comes to him slowly; Gerard can tell, as he's watching it do so. "Air," he murmurs tentatively, then nods, more firmly. "Air. You can't solidify air. You don't bring the elements to the water, you bring them to the air. See?" He traces the spiral on the inside of the locket with a fingertip. "Like this. We need something from -- fire, water, and earth, then we take them to air -- to Mount Hybrid -- and that's where it happens. All four of them together, in here -- see, the spiral envelops them since it's on both sides, 'o'er gold bring' and all that -- and then I guess I have to do something -- but that's it."

His enthusiasm is catching; Gerard can feel his eyes widen and he knows he's shaking at least a little bit. He lets the importance of the moment linger a little longer -- because he can tell that this is it too, that they actually have a serious shot at this -- before whispering (it seems to require hushed tones), "So -- fire's first, then?"

Frank nods, face all but glowing from the thrill of finally having a chance and starting on the journey with true purpose now. "Fire's definitely first."

* * *
Mount Pencey is the southernmost point of Belleville, three days west of Frank's village; halfway through the second day, they can see its hulking mass looming ahead of them, looking a lot closer than a day and a half. Unconsciously, they slow their riding pace, and Gerard only notices when it starts to get dark and it feels like they've traveled less than they ought to.

He doesn't mind, though. It's not as if they have a time limit on their adventure; spring stretches on for another month, then the long three months of summer come, and things could even be fine for a good month or two of autumn, if they're lucky. And if for some reason things take longer, well, it's not as if he'd mind staying somewhere with Frank for a few months, waiting for weather to be good for exploring again. But he doesn't think it'll take them that long; despite their delays, they have an air of purpose about their venture and he's already quietly convinced, for whatever reason, that they're going to succeed. Maybe it's silly, maybe it's stupid, maybe it's a long shot or simple wishful thinking, but he thinks it'll happen anyway.

They camp out again, and even in the dark of the evening, Mount Pencey rises up above them, dark and craggy and looking for all the world like it might crumble around them without warning, with the most innocuous of sounds triggering the collapse. Frank eyes it warily over dinner, which is a quiet, rather distracted affair.

"It's a volcano, right?" he says dubiously, refusing to turn his back on the mountain. "That makes this a little bit scary, don't you think?"

"It hasn't erupted in forty-one years, and that time was a small eruption that sustained minimal damage," Gerard replies, words from his history books conjured almost automatically. "And the last real eruption, y'know, ash-spewing, people-screaming, buildings-being-destroyed-in-floods-of-lava eruption, that was eighty-nine years ago under rule of King Victor, my great-grandfather. And before that, it was one hundred forty-eight years ago under King Ronald. There are still scars on the base of the volcano from the size of the rocks that fell from the opening, but few people get close enough to see it."

Frank blinks at him, looking a little startled, then shakes his head as if to clear it; he's been doing that a lot, as if being around Gerard is too strange to automatically understand anymore. "Damn," he says, clearly impressed. "How do you remember that? Is it, like, a princess thing?"

"More like a learn-this-or-you'll-be-sent-to-your-aunt's-up-north-where-princesses-are-still-locked-away-in-towers thing," Gerard replies wryly, taking a slow, cautious sip of his ale; it isn't his drink of choice, but in such small areas, few other decent drinks were made. "I've got a lot more random history I know by heart, if you have any trouble falling asleep tonight."

It takes them another two full days to reach the area near the volcano; they wait until morning to approach it more closely, still on horseback for an easier escape route. They don't come close enough to see the scars Gerard mentioned, more out of nerves than out of respect for the mountain or anything; neither of them says it out loud, but it's obvious they're more than a little terrified and it's not all due to being at the prophecy's first landmark.

"A fucking volcano," Gerard thinks he hears Frank mutter under his breath, shaking his head a little before speaking more loudly. "What exactly do we do here?"

"Fire," Gerard murmurs under his breath in turn. "Seems like we need an eruption. otherwise it's just -- a mountain. Rock. Earth."

"Don't suppose that we got it wrong the first time and this one's actually earth," Frank says in the hopeful tones of someone who knows they're probably wrong.

Gerard smiles, faintly and grimly. "And I was going to say, we've already got that. Not a chance."

Frank lets his breath out in a quiet, shaky huff. "Damn. So -- we need an eruption. Okay. Apart from the minor problem of -- y'know, we could die -- how do we do this thing?"

Gerard tilts his head at him in response, thoughtfully. "Could you induce one?" he asks after a moment, hesitation due mostly to knowing what the reaction'll be to this suggestion.

Frank chokes quietly on air, as predicted. "Come again?" he demands, incredulous.

He shrugs, a little awkwardly. "Well, I don't see what else we can do. Climb it and poke inside with a stick?"

"Long as we're courting death, we might as well make it really stupid," Frank mutters darkly, shaking his head. "But fine. Putting aside your seriously having way too much faith in this magic thing of mine -- I'll give it a try." Gerard tries to give him a faint, encouraging smile at this, and he thinks it might at least vaguely lighten Frank's scowl.

An eerie silence seems to descend on the area as Frank closes his eyes and bows his head; Gerard wonders if this is normal and wonders what exactly Frank is doing, what he's thinking of. It takes him a few minutes of this to turn away from Frank, who hasn't moved, in order to look at the mountain, which also hasn't. And because the silence is so absolute, so utterly all-pervading, when the rumble comes, low and distant and barely audible, Gerard senses it right away.

He couldn't have told anyone if it had been five minutes or half an hour of his feeling like the only creature on the planet -- the surrounding woods completely still, Frank utterly motionless, the low rumble sounding miles away -- when Frank suddenly slumps, all but collapsing off the pony, as if all of the air's suddenly gone out of his body and the resulting shell is crumpling.

Gerard lets out a startled cry and reaches for him -- his skin's gone paler than usual, too, and he doesn't even look conscious -- but then he's distracted by the mountain letting out a deafening roar and exploding.

It's the only word to describe the phenomenon. It shudders as if rocked from its foundations, it belches ash what looks like miles into the sky, turning it from pale blue to navy-dark, it spews rocks varying in size from pebbles to boulders, and vividly-coloured lava begins to flow at an alarming pace from the opening. The earth shakes in response, the air's filled completely with the sounds as if nothing else in the world exists but this moment, this disaster.

Gerard lets out another sound of alarm, his mare rearing back at the unfamiliar, terrifying event, and he has to try desperately to calm her enough to edge her over to Frank's horse. "Fuck, Frank," he murmurs desperately, reaching for him again.

Suddenly, Frank's arm shoots out to the side, making Gerard jump; barely a second later, he sits bolt upright, eyes wide. A single, pebble-sized molten rock shoots out from the mountain, fiery tail leaving sparks across the sky, and sails right into Frank's outstretched hand. He closes his fingers around it right away and suddenly among the bouquet of ash, earth, and burning in the air is the smell of seared flesh.

Gerard gapes, frozen in place with shock. "Holy shit," he breathes.

"Holy shit," Frank whispers, sounding as stunned as Gerard feels. He winces as he squeezes the rock tighter, then opens his hand around it. His burns are healing already, before their eyes, and the rock is bright red-orange, still glowing a little, barely bigger than a thumbnail.

Frank turns to Gerard, who hasn't looked away from him. Both of them are thinking the same thing, though neither one says it, and Gerard knows his worry is showing on his face.

They hold the gaze for a moment, then Frank smiles crookedly and murmurs, "And for my next trick..."

Gerard bursts into shaky laughter, relaxing a little under that despite their situation still being dire. "You get us the hell out of here," he suggests, and Frank nods, turns his pony in the other direction, and leads the way.

* * *
"Fire," Frank says almost dreamily, studying the rock resting innocently in the palm of his hand. It's retained its fiery hue, as if glowing from the inside, where any rock would have cooled by now, which is what awes both of them, convinces them completely (as if they needed more convincing -- that show would have thawed the heart of the coldest skeptic in seconds) that this is what they're looking for.

"Yeah," Gerard says absently, nodding. It's not that he's not thrilled by the discovery, he just has a slightly more pressing concern. "Are you sure you're okay? Your hand -- and you just fell over -- "

Frank glances over at him, faint smile tinged with vague impatience. "The nursing act was cute yesterday, but anything gets old after a few dozen repeats," he says gently, making Gerard flush. "I'm totally fine. See?" He wiggles his fingers pointedly at Gerard, and it's true that his hand isn't even scarred from the rock's burning descent.

"And, I don't know, I guess the magic took some effort out of me? I have no idea, I've never done anything like that before." He shrugs, obviously not willing to spend too much time worrying about it, and it's a little frustrating to Gerard that he's so concerned when Frank is willing to brush it off so easily.

"Well, if this sort of thing is going to keep happening, they can keep the fucking prophecy in storage forever for all I care," he huffs, then glares at Frank when he throws back his head and laughs.

"Sorry," he says with an apologetic grin once he stops. "Just -- don't worry, okay?" He nudges his pony closer to Gerard to rest a hand on his shoulder and squeeze gently. "Nothing's gonna happen to me. We're going to do this. Got that?"

Gerard finds himself unable to stop a faint smile in return, nodding a little more firmly now. "Okay. Yeah. Let's go."

* * *
The Southwest Sea is, predictably enough, a sea that engulfs most of the southwestern border of Belleville; it's picturesque, lovely enough, with a craggy coastline, fine sand, and white waves, but never gained much popularity as a resort. A few generations ago, sorcerers used the clear, cold waters as experimental grounds for all sorts of obscure, potentially dangerous magics for decades and afterward, anyone who tried to swim in the water ran the risk of being turned into something nasty. Once the practice was banned, work was undertaken to remove the remaining enchantments from the water; this was finally finished a few years before Gerard was born. The sea is big, though, and the magic was strong, and the stigma stays with the sea even now; someone undergoing a risky venture, says King Donald, is "stepping into the Southwest Sea".

"Wow," Frank murmurs, awed, when Gerard tells this story. "Who would've thought that something like that's possible? Magic strong enough to enchant -- an entire fucking sea, and stay there until someone else tries to remove it. Damn." He shakes his head, impressed.

Gerard quirks an eyebrow at him. "Have we forgotten that some of us can make volcanoes erupt? I'd say that's pretty damn impressive."

"Oh, you," Frank retorts in mock scorn. "You and your soft castle life. You haven't seen the real world. Anything would impress you."

Gerard tries to kick him across both of their horses; Frank bursts out laughing again at how miserably this attempt fails.

"That's actually sort of true," Gerard says after a minute; he can hear Frank turning to face him, but he keeps his expression focused forward for now. "But -- I've also seen the most impressive displays our remaining sorcerers can conjure. I've seen the extent of what they're capable of, what their magic can do. And none of it -- even the things they can do together -- none of it even comes close to forcing a volcano to erupt."

He does look at Frank now, sees a faint, hopeful smile. "And maybe someday -- after all of this -- maybe you'll have this kind of power too. It's not impossible. Maybe you can enchant an entire fucking sea, too."

Frank smiles again at that, a little shakily, and nods, turning away in turn. "Maybe," he says, and in the quiet tone Gerard hears the hope of someone trying desperately to avoid it. "We'll -- we'll see what happens. For now, we're just -- focusing on the prophecy. Okay?"

Gerard nods, eyes still fixed on Frank though Frank's looking forward again. "Okay."

Part Three