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

[parenthetical]

Part Three

* * *
Unfortunately, that's the last time anything between him and Frank feels natural for a long while.

There's silence between them when they ride out of the orchard, and eventually it fades from a respectful silence to one of awkwardness, staying quiet not by choice but by what feels like necessity. They eat and rest with only a few words to one another; Gerard can feel Frank watching him sometimes, but determinedly averts his eyes, forcing his expression as blank as possible.

The distance from the outer edge of the orchard to the hills at the base of Mount Hybrid can be done in five days if the journey's quick; Gerard estimates that at their current pace, it'll take a little over a week.

They're not easily distracted, but they're almost being slowed by the weight of the silence between them. The longest conversations they have are Gerard briefly explaining that by keeping to the borders of the kingdom, they're avoiding running into dangerous creatures like other dragons, sphinxes, and basilisks (as well as the nicer ones -- he briefly contemplates mentioning that Mikey's last letter contained talk of the unicorn he and Brian have adopted, but decides against it) and his quick, brisk history of Mount Hybrid, how it used to be a popular camping ground -- and still bears the dirt trails leading close to the top -- before the sharp, icy winds started to blow around it, even near the base. Every night, Gerard checks Frank's wound -- true to his word, it's healing quickly and without complication -- but he does this almost entirely silently, avoiding asking any questions past whether it still hurts and how badly.

It's the evening of the fourth day when Frank finally snaps. They've just finished their quick dinner -- Frank had had the presence of mind to take one of the apples from the orchard and each slice feels like a complete meal -- and they're sitting opposite the fire from one another, Frank studying Gerard and Gerard avoiding Frank's eyes.

Finally, the word comes as softly as a puff of wind, though the air's completely still, and for a moment Gerard thinks he's imagining it -- "Gee," low and almost pleading -- because he's never heard Frank use the nickname before. He turns back to him before he can think better of it and once he looks at Frank's face, sees the quiet intensity in his eyes, he can't look away.

"What's wrong?" Frank says, just barely louder than before, tone gentle, closer to coaxing than pleading now. "Don't say nothing. I know you better than that -- I think I do, anyway. Please. Tell me."

Much as he'd like to, Gerard can't possibly resist that. He lets his breath out, slowly and shakily, slumps a little. "It's -- stupid," he replies, automatically self-deprecating in the face of several days' worth of sulking, then suddenly straightens, frowning faintly, eyes sharp.

"No," he says, firmly, feeling more confident now that he has Frank's attention, now that he's finally talking. "No, it's not stupid. I'm completely fucking justified in being upset about this and it's all right that I am and I'm damn well not going to pretend otherwise."

In the dim light of the fire, it's difficult to tell, but he could swear that Frank's smiling faintly, actually looking kind of proud.

"It's -- the dragon," he confesses, instinctively feeling a little sheepish despite his show of confidence. "I know I couldn't've killed it, I know you're the one with magic, but -- I still feel like I should have tried to do something. Something more. Something real. It feels like -- " He stops, hoping Frank won't take offense, then deciding to say it anyway, as neutrally as possible. "It's not your fault. But it's still that -- you had a chance to kill it because you're the boy."

Frank doesn't say anything for a moment; Gerard sees him bite his lip. When he finally speaks, his voice is cautious. "Um, Gerard -- I don't know if you've noticed or not, but -- you're a boy too."

"That's not what I meant," Gerard snaps, quickly following it up in case Frank asks something idiotic like what he did mean. He'd have to get angry with him, then, and he doesn't want that. "I'm just a princess, too, and that obviously trumps any maleness involved."

Frank blinks, once, uncomprehending, but Gerard can practically see the understanding starting to sneak up on him, slowly but surely.

"The princess never kills the dragon," Gerard explains anyway, voice going quieter. "Not ever. Even -- " He breaks off quickly before he says "a stable boy"; that sounds too scornful and he really doesn't want to fight with Frank. Instead he continues, "Someone with no weapons experience at all -- if they're not a princess, they get the chance. They do it. It's so fucking typical and even if I'm a male princess, I don't get the important part of the quest. I just sit back and watch."

Frank just nods slowly once Gerard finishes, and he thinks that maybe part of the reason he told Frank, more than just because he asked, is that Frank knows him -- even if he doesn't agree or doesn't quite understand, he'll know how to answer and he won't make fun of him.

"I would've switched places with you in a second, if that means anything," Frank says eventually, a wry note to his voice. "At least, if I didn't mind seeing you hurt, which I do. I didn't kill that thing because it was expected of me as a guy, I killed it because -- " He stops, shrugging, running a hand through his hair. "Because I was the only one who could. Because I had to. I didn't like it, I didn't do it for -- honour or glory or perpetuating the male stereotype or anything. It just happened that way.

"And what do you mean, you didn't get the important part?" he continues, a faint frown now on his face, leaning in a little across the fire. "I don't remember you sitting back and watching. I remember you distracting the dragon, twice, once in enough time for me to recover and start thinking a little about what other weapons I had and once to help me kill it -- which was also your idea. I remember you giving me your sword and I remember you cleaning and dressing my leg after. Speaking as the injured part, I find that -- and all of it -- pretty damn important, Gerard."

"It's not the same," Gerard murmurs, not quite able to look at Frank anymore now. He's starting to feel stupid again, but he doesn't know how to articulate the quiet burn of inadequacy deep in his heart. "It's just -- that needs to be done, sure, but it's what princesses always do -- tending the wounds. Distractions. That's not important, it's a really shitty consolation prize."

"It is too important," Frank half-growls, a note of ferocity in his voice that surprises Gerard. "You're the one who's all about -- breaking down the stereotypes and shit, aren't you? Well, maybe it is what princesses always do, but that doesn't mean it's a consolation prize that's not important. If you hadn't distracted the dragon, I could've been hurt even worse, maybe killed -- there's no way I could've recovered from hitting the tree that quickly. And I wouldn't have set up the sword to kill it, either -- and that's another thing I wouldn't have thought of on my own. Maybe later, but I'd've been tired by then, I wouldn't have the strength to set the sword up. And how the hell would I have killed it without the sword, too? And my leg would probably be infected or some shit, too, it'd definitely feel a hell of a lot worse than it does now, and you think that's not important?"

"Probably not," Gerard says half-under his breath; the intensity of Frank's expression makes him vaguely uncomfortable. "Your magic would've killed it."

"That's not the point!" Frank almost yells, then brings his voice down, even more intense now. "Gerard. This isn't trying to make princesses or women or whoever feel better by trying to stick reasons their work is important onto them, okay? It's not a consolation prize, it's not anything but the truth. Just because something isn't sung about in ballads or epics aren't written about it or what the fuck ever -- it doesn't mean it isn't significant. It doesn't mean it's something that only women are suited for, so they get stuck with it. It doesn't, okay? It means that -- that every part of shit like this is important, and every role, even if it's a tiny one, contributes to the whole, and that makes it important. Just because you're not out doing all the dirty work doesn't mean you're feeding the stereotype monster. If nothing else, I'm going to remember that I couldn't have done this without you, and if anyone asks, that's damn well what I'm telling them."

Gerard stares at Frank for a moment, utterly speechless and kind of wanting to cry. It's not because of what he's said -- and he recognizes the truth of it, in his heart if not in his numb mind just yet -- and not even because he's starting to feel almost stupidly petty now, but because he's about ninety percent certain that before Frank met him, he wouldn't have been capable of this kind of speech -- that he's embracing this belief so thoroughly because of Gerard. At the same time, he knows that the opinions are genuinely Frank's own, and the combination does things so fierce to his heart that he's amazed it's still beating in his chest.

"It's just," he says after a long moment, voice small and a little shaky. "Just -- I know, okay? I know. I know I -- helped and everything. I know I did all I could. But -- the bit of the painting you found, it's -- all of it was like that. Women -- killing dragons, fighting wars, facing criminals -- and I wish that for once, someone like that actually got to do something like that. And I know I'm a guy and all, but I'm still a princess and -- the first time I get a chance to do something like that, try to break down a barrier or another -- I didn't. I couldn't. I had no real chance to."

It's Frank's turn to be silent for a moment, watching him across the fire with something that Gerard desperately wants to believe is tenderness. "Okay, how's this," he says eventually, tone gentle if a little husky and vaguely wry again. "Once we finish -- this whole prophecy thing -- we'll go on another quest, and this time we'll hunt dragons, and you'll kill every single one and I'll sit back and watch. That sound good to you?"

"Oh, god," Gerard says reflexively -- he never wants to see another dragon again -- but he can't help laughing. It makes Frank laugh too, and for a moment it feels like the tension between them's just a distant dream -- and then because Gerard is a complete idiot, he blurts out, "What'll Brendon think of your doing that?"

A beat of silence follows, in which Gerard wishes more than anything that time travel wasn't past the skills of even the most accomplished sorcerers and Frank gives him a completely blank look. "Brendon?" he says, sounding so utterly incredulous that Gerard supposes he should be relieved but can't manage anything other than defensive embarrassment; then Frank's eyes widen and he murmurs, "Oh, god. Gerard -- Gerard, no."

"And why not?" Gerard demands, knowing he's flushed either with mortification or anger, avoiding looking at Frank again. "You were engaged -- you saw each other again -- you obviously get along really well, and everyone totally noticed, you didn't even hear them laughing about it and looking at you because you were too busy -- "

His voice has sped up to be almost incoherent and it's probably good that the hand on his shoulder stops him. Gerard jumps a little -- he didn't even notice Frank getting up and walking over to him, let alone hear it -- but his expression's oddly gentle. "And you didn't like it 'cause you wanted me all to yourself, is that it?" he asks, managing to not make even that sound teasing.

"No," Gerard says, weakly protesting; it's suddenly difficult to talk with Frank this close, Frank touching him, especially on the tail of his obvious jealousy.

"Really?" Frank's shifted a little closer to him; Gerard can tell because his breath's starting to quicken a little more still. He nods, not quite able to manage further speech.

"Huh." With this, more of an exhale than a proper word, Frank's tipping Gerard's chin up, gently but firmly, and brings their faces barely a few inches apart from one another. "Well, that's too bad, because it looks like you've got that anyway."

And Gerard has barely a second to wonder wait, what? before Frank uses the careful grip on his chin to bring their mouths together, and then he's not wondering anything at all.

It's not quite a good kiss -- Gerard's startled and despite the confidence of the gesture, he can tell Frank's uncertain, and both of them are shy and tentative and closed-mouthed at first, parting their lips only briefly and hesitantly, and the contact would be innocent were it not for the startling heat that they can both all but sense leaping between them. It doesn't last too long, either; it's only a few seconds in that Gerard feels the need to draw his mouth away and gape at Frank, well aware that he must look completely stupid.

"Oh," he says, barely managing the word, but the look on Frank's face is summoning a certain emotion past his numb shock and he knows that the expression he feels slowly taking form on his face is a giddy grin. "Really?" he can't help adding, tone hopeful even now that he has proof.

This time, he doesn't need to hope that Frank's expression is both affectionate and tender; even in the dim light, it's openly both. "Really," he replies quietly, then adds a cheerful "You idiot" before sliding smoothly into Gerard's lap, taking his face in his hands, and kissing him again.

This time, it's much better; this time, Gerard's ready for it, ready to let both hands slide to Frank's hips to pull him closer and part his lips readily to accommodate both Frank's tongue and his own. It lasts longer this time, too, the initial exploration over, both of them settling into the feel of one another's mouths, kissing more slowly and intently despite the heat and feeling still obviously there. Frank is warm and solid against Gerard and he can't help a muffled moan into the kiss as the tip of Frank's tongue does something to the roof of his mouth; he retaliates when they finally pull away by biting down firmly on his lower lip.

The sound that Frank lets out at this is extremely gratifying. "God, Gerard," he murmurs, sounding a little strangled and a lot awed, and for the first time Gerard realizes that he's not the only one feeling overwhelmed with how affected by this he is.

Still, as both he and Frank have acknowledged already, he's kind of an idiot, so he can't help asking again, "So Brendon -- "

Frank lets out something like a half-laugh, distracting himself from how obviously stupid this question is by tracing both hands slowly down Gerard's chest; even through the cloth of his shirt, it makes him shudder. "Is a friend," he replies firmly, kissing the corner of Gerard's mouth. "A good friend. And I think the world of him, but God, you seriously thought he could ever even begin to compare to you?"

Gerard thinks that he could definitely, definitely get used to this. "You didn't mention him," he says, more as a statement of fact than an accusation.

Frank lets out a low, impatient sound at the back of his throat, shifting closer to slide a hand under Gerard's shirt, tracing it back up his chest until it's pressing firmly over his heart. "I didn't mention him," he says slowly and deliberately, "because from the minute I saw you, I wasn't thinking about anybody else. The minute I really saw you," he adds, just as Gerard is starting to feel his insides melt. "You weren't much to look at thirty feet in the air surrounded by a dragon's claw."

Gerard's startled into a laugh, almost unconsciously shifting closer to Frank. "Not like you were either," he retorts, even as his hand is moving to rest over Frank's through his shirt. "Did I tell you I thought you were a kid because you looked tiny?"

Frank snorts quietly, then gives him a look obviously caught halfway between a scowl and a grin. "Oh, thanks," he says, expression shifting closer to a grin as he leans back enough to pull his shirt off, shaking his head to get his hair to lie flat again. "Do I look like a kid now?"

Gerard's breath catches in his throat. He's never before had a chance to really appreciate just how fucking gorgeous Frank is, but like this, the lines of his chest so close to him, finally seeing the entirety of the tattoos covering his arms, his eyes reflecting green and grey and gold and light brown in the firelight -- yeah, he's definitely being reminded that he's not a kid.

His hand moves to press against Gerard's heart again, an eyebrow quirking in invitation, and Gerard proves that he's an idiot one more time by blurting out, "Does it really not bother you that I'm old?"

Frank sits back a little on Gerard's lap, expression completely disbelieving, and he hastens to add, "Not -- that I'm really old, even, I don't consider myself old even though I know a lot of people do -- like thirty-one's this ancient thing for princesses and it's seriously not bad at all, I feel awesome and everything, just -- I mean -- Brendon's ten years younger than I am. A few more and he could be my kid, isn't that a little weird for you?" he finishes, doing everything he can to make this sound like an earnest concern and not a stupid impulse, pretty sure he's failing.

"Gee," Frank says, slowly and gently, and Gerard can tell that the nickname sounds as natural for him to say as it is for him to hear, "I'm not wearing a shirt and I'm on your lap. Can we stop talking now?"

Gerard laughs, quietly and a little breathlessly, knowing he looks sheepish and knowing Frank probably won't mind. "Yeah, we can," he says, and follows suit with the removal of his shirt.

The first thing that Frank does at this gesture is kiss him again, and there's a deeper urgency to the movements of their tongues against each other now, lust and wanting joining in with emotion as they both shudder at the feeling of skin against skin. Frank traces his hand down Gerard's spine and Gerard arches his back into it, bringing them closer; Gerard's thumb briefly flicks against Frank's nipple and he feels the answering shiver as if it's going through his own body.

He hasn't even noticed just how hard his hips are pressing forward into Frank's until Frank breaks the kiss, slowly pulling back despite Gerard's low sound of protest. Frank's hands are tracing down his chest again, more slowly than before; when Gerard looks at him, he's looking back with an expression of wonder that makes the way he looked at the orchard pale completely. "Fuck, Gerard," he murmurs, voice low and a little shaky, "you're so fucking beautiful."

Gerard feels the words all the way down to his toes (they stop at his mind and lips and heart along the way, along with other places he's pretty sure princesses were never meant to discuss), but the smile on his face is crooked and half-teasing as he all but whispers in reply, "That's what every princess gets called. Got anything more creative?"

He feels more than hears Frank's quiet laugh, even if it's right in his ear, and he also senses the soft rumble of the "I'll try to think of a few more things," spoken around the impediment of Gerard's earlobe caught between Frank's teeth. "Stunning." His tongue flicks lightly into Gerard's ear. "Striking." His lips glide down Gerard's jaw to his neck. "Sexy." He bites down at the spot between Gerard's neck and shoulder and Gerard hopes it leaves a mark. "Really fucking attractive." He pauses with his lips at Gerard's collarbone and the word he speaks there is barely audible. "Mine."

It's more of a question than a claim and Gerard's sure he's still supposed to be feeling indignant at any thoughts of possession and that sort of thing, but he answers instead by carefully tangling a hand into Frank's hair and tilting his head up just enough to meet his eyes. Why play coy when it's so fucking obvious it's true? "Yeah," he breathes quietly, and Frank kisses him again.

Their next actions are a blur, if a very pleasant one -- Gerard can't quite recall just when he had stretched out fully onto his back, when Frank had properly straddled his hips, which of them had tugged the other's pants down just enough, and it seems like they never stopped kissing or touching through all of that -- but the next thing he knows is that Frank is breaking the contact again to murmur quietly right against his lips, tone suddenly serious, "Did you want to top?"

Dazed by their proximity, not expecting the interruption, all Gerard can do is let out a quiet, questioning sound; Frank continues quickly, sounding completely breathless and a little nervous. "Just -- I'm not gonna assume that I will just because you're a princess or anything, I can, but I really don't mind if you want to either, not at all, all I want is -- I just thought I should give you the choice, y'know?"

Gerard melts, completely and helplessly. No one, none of the small handful of people he's been with before, would have even thought to ask something like this, let alone phrase it this way -- so completely selfless, yet so genuine -- and he's pretty sure that that's why he's with Frank right now instead of them. He's utterly aware of the fact that if he tries to speak now, no sound will come out, so he takes a deep breath, swallows, and manages a quiet "You -- you can. It's okay. I want you to. This time," he adds after a moment, both to prove that he can do it too and to confirm that there's definitely going to be a next time, multiple next times.

Frank smiles, for a moment completely affectionate, with no trace of the slightly baser emotions Gerard can sense with how closely pressed together their hips are; he bends to kiss the corner of Gerard's mouth, then shifts away enough to properly tug his pants off. Gerard does the same with his own, taking this moment -- and the next, when Frank digs briefly through the bags near them for the ointment intended for Frank's leg as it healed -- to properly study the line of Frank's back as he moves, the marks inked between his shoulder blades, openly admiring as he suddenly realizes he'll have a chance to do for a long time after this -- no more sneaking looks, no more uncertainties.

Frank coats two fingers in the ointment first, settling his free hand at Gerard's thigh while he slides his fingers into him; from the way that Gerard feels his muscles tighten and the choked "fuck, Frank" forced from his throat as he squirms into the touch and his eyes shut involuntarily, he thinks that this reaction's the only reason he did it. Still, when he manages to half-open an eye to give him an impatient, almost pleading, fuck, come on look, he can tell that patience isn't high on Frank's list of virtues right now either, and it's mere seconds later that he's easing Gerard's legs apart and sliding inside him like -- it's such a goddamn cliché, but like he's meant to be there, and cliché or not, Gerard's sure right then that he is because there's no other excuse for this to feel so fucking good.

It seems to go like a series of still pictures rather than the single, endlessly long moment Gerard might have expected; one second, his legs are wrapping around Frank's to hold him tightly where he is on top of Gerard, the next his hips are arching forward into the hand Frank's wrapped around his cock, not bothering to stifle his moan, the next he's tilting his head back for Frank to bite his jaw, his neck, his shoulder, knowing the marks will be visible the next morning and wanting them to be, the next he's digging his nails into Frank's shoulder hard enough to leave marks of his own.

They don't say too much, he remembers that- a few curses, "fuck" for obvious reasons being the most frequent, a few breathless, fervent utterances of one another's names -- but the sounds they do make most frequently are wordless, moans and broken whimpers, low hums and purrs against one another's mouths, and finally, hoarse, breathless cries -- Frank's in his ear, Gerard's into Frank's neck -- that completely convince Gerard that if this isn't where he belongs, the place he's meant to be, fucked if he knows where a place like that is.

* * *
In the middle of the night, Gerard opens his eyes, abruptly utterly awake, as everything falls into place.

He nudges Frank's temple gently with his nose; they fell asleep curled around one another, Frank's head buried firmly into the spot between Gerard's neck and shoulder. "Frank," he whispers when this proves ineffective. "Frank, wake up."

Frank lets out a noise that can best be described as "mmfghmm". Gerard's nudging him again gently when he demands, voice soft and thick with sleep, "Really, really hope you realize -- how lucky you are that 'm not hurting you for this. 's it important?"

"Mmhmm," Gerard breathes into his ear in reply, trying to stay as still as he can despite his sudden excitement. "Really."

Frank shifts a little at that, muffling a yawn into Gerard's shoulder and moving a fist to rub at one eye. "Can it wait 'til morning?" is his last, hopeful question.

Gerard considers this for a moment, then shakes his head. "No, it can't."

Frank lets his breath out, but he's at least a little more awake now. "Well, in that case…" He yawns again, runs a hand fiercely through his hair, and tilts his head up to look at Gerard expectantly. "What is it?"

Gerard bites his lip to keep his grin from being too ridiculous; it doesn't quite work, nor does the deep breath he attempts. Still, his tone is as solemn as he can make it when he says, "I love you."

Frank's expression undergoes a few quick shifts, from sleepy unconcern to shock to disbelief to something like cautious delight. "Oh," he says, tone completely different, and his second "Well, in that case -- " sounds like he's saying something else entirely, especially when it's followed by his hand moving to the back of Gerard's neck to pull him closer and kiss him, slowly, like he's still half-asleep.

"Really?" he asks when they pull away from one another, touching his nose lightly to Gerard's.

Gerard pokes his side in response, just under his ribs, grinning faintly at the squirm this elicits. "Duh," he replies, grin going a little brighter just at the thought of it. "Yeah, really. You've saved my life -- half a dozen times over, at least. You trusted me enough to drop everything and come with me on this -- ridiculous fucking quest and look how it's ended up. You're -- stubborn and strong and funny and fucking magical, okay? It doesn't get much better than that." He kisses Frank's nose at the low laugh this elicits, then adds a little more quietly, "Yeah, I think I kind of really fucking love you."

Frank's expression goes a little softer still at this, his own grin a little disbelieving still, and this time the kiss lingers longer, deeper, like there would be more intent and purpose behind it were neither of them still feeling the effects of not quite enough sleep. Still, Frank's hand gently twines into the hair at the nape of Gerard's neck and Gerard draws him closer with a hand at his hip, and they stay that way for what feels like hours.

When they pull apart, still touching nearly everywhere except their mouths, the silence between them is almost expectant, though Gerard knows it's not because of him. It simply feels that way, and eventually Frank takes a deep breath and looks up at Gerard properly.

"I don't think you know how it was for me, having you fall into my life -- literally," he adds with a faint, wry grin; for whatever reason, he looks vaguely nervous, and Gerard's fairly sure that Frank never had cause to make this many speeches before they met. "I mean, I'm living in this tiny shithole, I've spoken to maybe twenty people total in my life, the most exciting day of my life was picking a rock from a pile of rocks at the castle -- and all of a sudden this gorgeous fucking princess comes out of nowhere and asks me to go on an adventure with him." His voice goes just a little quieter, more intense. "All I did was save you from death. You took me out of my shell and took me places and showed me things I never even thought to dream I'd go or see. I'm doing things, really doing them. I'm not even afraid of my magic anymore. I feel more like myself than I ever have before in my entire life and it's all completely thanks to you."

He shifts closer, speaks right against Gerard's lips. "You saved my life," he murmurs softly, eyes full. "I couldn't not love you, not if I tried," and like the total idiot he is, Gerard bursts into tears.

He doesn't stop until he feels Frank's lips pressing to the corner of his eye, and he doesn't sleep until long after Frank's head's dropped back to his shoulder, because this time, he thinks, this time it'll really be a miracle if his heart doesn't burst out of his chest.

* * *
It's kind of a good thing, Gerard thinks a little giddily, that they're not on any sort of real schedule here, that they have all the time in the world, because otherwise they'd be really fucked (though maybe that's not the best word choice, considering).

The first day is the worst because they're distracted by everything about each other -- Frank wakes Gerard up by tasting along his collarbone (payback for the middle of the night, he supposes, might be a secondary motivation), Gerard finds himself unable to abandon the camp because he's fascinated by the way Frank's head tilts just enough to expose his tattoo there, they lock eyes across their horses and in an instant, wordlessly decide that an early stop for lunch is a really excellent idea. It gets to the point where, as they're readying to leave again, Gerard finds Frank's chest pressed to his back, arms going around his waist, the only excuse whispered into his ear being "You existed."

They cool down over the next few days, though Gerard's pretty sure it's more exhaustion and the craggy spire of Mount Hybrid looming closer and closer than any dampening or lessening of sex drives or love (he still has to suppress a stupid grin at the mere thought sometimes, when it dances through his head in a refrain of "love love love love," and sometimes he catches the same grin on Frank's face when he thinks Gerard isn't looking and it only makes him grin more brightly). This doesn't really signify much, relatively speaking; all it means is that they limit themselves to twice at night and maybe once during the day if they feel they've made good progress.

Not even Mount Hybrid's cold, windy peak drawing closer can dampen Gerard's spirits, though -- the last five days of their trip leave him with a soreness that's even pleasant when it's being exacerbated by riding a horse (continuing to think of it as pleasant isn't an easy task, but Gerard manages) and a quiet, warm, constantly glow in his heart. There's no awkwardness, no confusion, no worry anymore -- just Frank's smile every morning, Frank's promises in his ear, Frank in his arms every night. He doesn't have to worry about what's going to happen when they're done anymore, not even a little bit, because he knows now -- he's going to take Frank home, they're going to get married, and then they'll live happily ever after. It's a little bit ridiculous just how often that last phrase pops up in Gerard's thoughts, but he figures, not caring if he's being stupid, if he's married to Frank, what the hell else could ever after be?

It's early evening of the ninth day from the orchard when they reach the base of Mount Hybrid, and Gerard can already feel the winds starting up. Air, all right, he thinks darkly, and glances over at Frank, who's studying the mountain even more solemnly. Gerard supposes he should, considering he's the one really orchestrating the prophecy and this is the stage where it ends, but he reaches to take his hand and squeeze gently instead, just to test -- selfishly -- if he can draw him out of this mood.

He can; Frank starts slightly, then visibly turns his thoughts away in order to give Gerard a faint, distracted, yet genuine grin. He returns the quick, lightly squeeze and lets Gerard turn him towards the business of looking for tonight's campsite.

* * *
After everything else, especially the Tree of Life, Mount Hybrid seems almost pathetically easy. There are no volcanoes to run from, no dragons to fight, and even no kings' meaningful looks to fend off. Even the trails are already there for them -- worn from disuse, yes, but nothing grows on Mount Hybrid thanks to the low temperatures and very little rainfall, so there's nothing to cover the dirt paths but dust.

Their only impediments are the winds, sharp and icy, cutting to the bone even when the sun shines highest in the sky, blowing from the start of dawn all through the night, sometimes producing low, eerie shrieks that set Gerard's teeth on edge. They're both distracted during the three days it takes them to make the trek -- Gerard by navigating the paths (he memorized the map on their way there when he wasn't thinking about Frank), Frank by protecting them as well as he knows how. During the day, he clutches the gold nugget to keep the wind from blowing any of their things off of the earth (their horses were left tied to the last tree before the mountain, ordered by Frank to stay put); at night, when they curl together as close as possible, he holds the fire rock to keep them warm. They find ways to remind one another they haven't forgotten their intimacy -- holding hands during their long walks up the mountain, exchanging touches when they sit down to eat as quickly as possible, brushes of lips and whispers of words against skin when they lie down for sleep -- but the environment for anything more than that is a terrible one and both of them try to deal with that as best as they can.

The third night, they don't speak to one another at all, not even their customary reminders to one another before sleep. Gerard knows they're both reviewing the journey that took them here -- that brought them to one another -- and what'll happen when they reach the top and face the last element, the fulfilling of the prophecy. He's not sure what they'll find there, what Frank'll have to do -- he's equal parts excited and nervous, anticipatory yet worried for Frank and a little bit for himself too.

He's not sure when his mind actually slows down to let him sleep and he's not sure Frank sleeps at all -- he's awake when Gerard drifts off and awake when he blinks himself into consciousness -- but it's the longest night with the shortest amount of sleep he's ever had.

They face the snowy peak of the mountain without touching -- it's mid-June, so the snow comes in mere flurries, the ground covered with only a light coating, air only a little colder without the ice of the winds rather than downright frigid. The place where the dirt ends and the snow begins is as clearly defined as a landmark, a line marking the end of the rest of the mountain and the start of the top, the point of no return, and they stand before it, simply staring.

Then Frank's hand tightens on the fire rock and the snow recedes by an inch, melting into water, the spot between the dirt and the snow melting into mud before their eyes. Fierce triumph is in his expression for a moment -- he's proving, Gerard knows, that he has some control over where they are now, that he can handle it if he wants to -- and Gerard reaches to slip a hand into Frank's free one, grip tightening even as Frank's did a moment ago, and together they step onto the snow.

They haven't been walking for more than ten or fifteen minutes when Gerard grabs Frank's arm and points, not speaking (they've gotten used to saving their voices rather than trying to speak through lips numb from cold and chapped from wind, the most frequent sounds of their day its low whine around them). Frank sees it right away -- a pedestal, maybe three feet tall, of iron so dark it stands out like an inkblot against the mountain. Neither of them have any sense of how high Mount Hybrid is, having very little experience with scaling mountains, but Gerard knows that Frank's thinking, as he is, that this pedestal indicates the top of the mountain, marking the end of their journey.

Contrary to what he might have expected, they slow their pace as they approach the pedestal -- really nothing more than a block of iron, Gerard notes as they get closer, though it's carved in a perfect rectangle, edges only looking smoother the closer they get -- though it's more out of respect and awe than fear. Gerard honestly feels as if he and Frank are incapable of thinking in anything but unison right now; the noise of the wind seems to drop away, almost as if to let them share their thoughts. They're slowing to calm themselves (or to try -- it's not working for Gerard and from how tightly Frank is holding his hand, he doesn't think it's just him either), to approach the pedestal and the fulfilling of the prophecy with as much dignity as they can possibly offer it.

When they're finally there, close enough to see each stripe in the iron that's a just barely lighter shade of charcoal grey than the rest of it, Gerard's grip on Frank's hand tightens involuntarily; he's seen the center of the pedestal, an indentation the shape of a circle, and he knows without reaching a hand under his shirt and encircling the gold that it's a perfect fit for his crest. They're in the right place, they're exactly where they're meant to be, and this confirms it past what both of them already believed.

They stand at opposite ends of the pedestal, Gerard trailing fingertips across the outline of the circle. "This is it," he murmurs, words almost inaudible over the wind. Frank glances up at him sharply, expression almost warning him not to desecrate the moment with speech, but his eyes are understanding. He knows -- it's in his slight nod and faintest of smiles -- he understands Gerard's sudden necessity for something mundane, normal, a stating of the obvious to root this in reality at least a little.

There's no room for speech now, though, not anymore. With an economy of motion but still with a certain reverence, Gerard carefully tugs his crest off over his head, springing the locket open and resting the top half, with the holes for the stones, in the circle -- it fits exactly, of course. Calmly, though his face is pale and his lips are pressed tightly together, Frank sets the fire rock, the water stone, and the gold pit next to one another in front of the crest.

Without thinking twice or even glancing at one another, they clasp hands, as if it's the natural progression of events. Frank rests his fingertips on the edge of the crest -- the magic, Gerard thinks -- and Gerard leans a hand against the iron pedestal, just for support. This way -- joined together, joined to the ingredients of the prophecy, eyes fixed on the gold spiral, wind howling around them -- they wait.

When the first rumble comes, it's so low they almost miss it; it's only the second, just barely louder but enough not to be mistaken for wind, that convinces them they heard correctly.

Soon, the rumbles are loud enough to shake the mountain, rattling through Gerard's bones as he feels the same endless, heavy shudders running through Frank's hand. Just as he thinks he can't take it anymore, he sees them -- small silver glints in the air, small sparks outlining the currents of the wind, almost in rhythm with the shrieking howls, which are growing louder to match the rumbles. His ears are pounding so hard that he almost doesn't notice that the sparks and slivers of light are congregating towards the pedestal, not until he sees Frank watching them too.

The minute one of the sparks touches the crest, the wind picks up, howling louder than before, blowing harder until Gerard feels like his skin's going to be torn from his body, let alone his clothing; his eyes hurt to keep open, but he grits his teeth and does so anyway. He watches as the wind lifts the fire rock, sparks settling into it, turning it the deep red of a ruby, carrying it to the first hole in the crest; it lifts the water rock, turning it a paler blue, and the gold nugget, shooting it through with darker shades, and places them into their respecting holes, shrinking them as it does until all three fit snugly into the crest, shimmering with red and blue and gold lights, reflecting the crazy silver sparks swirling in the wind above them.

Gerard thinks his grip on Frank's hand tightens -- he can't tell anymore, it barely even feels like he has a body now, let alone a hand -- when a spark shoots out to touch the spiral of the crest, swirling into it, making it glow a vivid silver for a moment before fading. The lights are getting brighter now, flashes glowing almost blinding, trails of light winding longer still, all gathering around the pedestal with little variation, all coming together in shimmering, sparkling bursts that keep growing larger and brighter by the second.

The rumbles, almost forgotten until now, are back, still low and loud and shaking the ground around the pedestal; the lights turn from sparks into full-out flares, causing Gerard to stumble back for a moment, letting go of the iron if not Frank's hand. The ground around them is starting to grow uneven, practically folding under the force of the shaking and rumbles, and Gerard tugs at Frank's hand as hard as he possibly can and yells "Let go!", or at least he thinks he does -- and he must have, because the next second Frank pulls his hand away from the pedestal and stumbles back along with Gerard, and the largest, most blinding column of silver light erupts from the crest, shooting straight into the air. Gerard thinks it maybe divides when it hits the sky, spreading all over the kingdom in an umbrella of light, but he can't quite tell because the shock of the rumble knocks both him and Frank backwards and the light is so bright that he has to close his eyes.

It's only a few minutes of the existence of only darkness and noise before things seem to calm down again. Even the keening of the wind's dwindled to something softer, though the low whistle is still there, the only existing sound once more, and the ground is still again, so Gerard tentatively opens an eye.

He's still on the ground and he still hasn't let go of Frank's hand -- that much remains the same. Another thing that's done so is the landscape -- it looks exactly as it did when they first came across it, no sign of the earthquake or the blinding lights.

Next to him, Frank is holding his head in his free hand but looking a little less dazed than Gerard's sure he is. Upon seeing him, he gives him a faint, crooked grin, squeezes his hand, and stands before helping tug him to his feet for their most important errand.

The iron rectangle looks exactly the same as it did before, with the notable exception of the closed crest on top of it; when Gerard lifts it, carefully, he sees that the place beneath it, where the indentation was earlier, is empty. He pries the lid of the locket open -- it goes a little harder than before -- and when it gives, he sees a small puff of silver-tinted air spiral up before dissolving. Inside the crest, the three gems glitter in their places; the spiral opposite then seems to reflect their light in a strand of silver that appears and disappears if the locket is tilted a certain way.

Gerard glances over at Frank, who's watching with the same air of slightly disbelieving awe, before closing the crest and carefully sliding it over his head again. Neither of them speak the magic words -- "is this it?" -- indeed, neither of them speak at all until Gerard hefts the crest gently in his hand and murmurs, "This is definitely going into the royal museum when we get home."

Frank grins faintly at this, squeezing Gerard's other hand. "You have a royal museum?"

"We will build one," Gerard says firmly, "just for this," and Frank laughs.

* * *
The trip back down the mountain feels like an exhale that's been a month and a half in coming. The winds have calmed a little, though not by much, but they never have any trouble keeping their things together or staying decently warm at night -- probably because the stones are all where they should be now, always under Gerard's shirt inside the crest, and maybe they know what they need even like this.

They don't speak most of the journey down the mountain -- they're too busy thinking and digesting and trying to process that it's done, it's over, but they don't know what exactly happened or what the aftereffects are -- so it takes less time, since they don't feel the need to slow their pace for any reason and they're moving downhill. Gerard breaks the silence on the third night, when they've already reached the horses and are enjoying the warmth further away from the mountain at their camp. "We're going to have a hell of a story to tell my parents when we get back."

Frank tenses. It's so unexpected that Gerard doesn't even notice for a moment, but he frowns faintly at him over the fire; Frank doesn't meet his eyes as he asks, carefully, "Will we?"

Gerard's frown deepens a little. "Well -- yeah, we will. I'm guessing that when my parents let me go look at what could be found in the kingdom, fulfilling a prophecy -- not to mention helping volcanoes erupt and fighting a dragon twice and finding an entirely new purpose for the family crest -- really wasn't what they had in mind. And introducing you to them'll kind of require telling the story, too."

"That's not really what I -- " Frank breaks off, running a hand through his hair, still not looking at Gerard. "I mean," he says after a moment, voice going quieter, "we're going to have a hell of a story to tell?"

Gerard blinks blankly twice before it clicks; he suddenly feels himself going a little cold. "I -- well, I was assuming," he murmurs, suddenly awkward. "I guess not everyone who's in love wants to get married, and that's totally fine and all, every lifestyle is valid if there's good reason for it, I don't want to force my own onto anyone or anything," he explains quickly. "I just -- I was assuming, because that's how I've always known it'd be for me, but I guess that was pretty stupid of me, I shouldn't have -- "

"Gerard," Frank cuts him off, looking more than a little confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Do you not want us to get married?" Gerard blurts. "I mean, I do -- shit, that was the least romantic proposal ever, fuck, I'm sorry, I'm an idiot, just -- you knew I needed to get married and I've never really been in love before, so I guess it makes sense that the only person I'd really want to marry would be someone I love, someone I know I could spend my life with 'cause we've kind of been doing everything together for the last month and a half or so and I'm definitely not even starting to get sick of you yet."

Frank looks a little dazed, like he hasn't quite understood the last chunk of that (maybe his tendency to speeches is rubbing off on Gerard -- he never babbles when nervous, usually just stays silent and awkward), but also a little incredulous. "Of course I want us to get married," he says as if Gerard should have doubted the sky was blue before he doubted that. "Yeah. Of course. I love you. I want that."

"Oh." Gerard feels more relieved that he would have thought possible, grinning stupidly without remembering that there's still a problem, if that's not it. "Well. That's good, then."

"Just." Frank's gaze falls again, teeth capturing his lower lip between them, fingers fiddling with the edge of his sleeve. "I don't know if it's a good idea," he finishes after a long pause, again speaking cautiously, like each word could set off an eruption from Mount Pencey again, yet somehow giving the impression of having spoken in a rush despite that.

It's Gerard's turn to look completely blank again, even more confused than before. "What? Did you somehow miss the -- wanting to marry someone I love part? Do you think I'm going to find someone I love more or instead of you or something? Because I can tell you right now that's not going to happen."

"No -- " Frank says quickly, then breaks off, letting his breath out, running a hand through his hair. "Just -- I'm not a prince, Gerard," he bursts out, looking genuinely anguished. "I'm not -- a king, I'm not nobility, I'm not even of decent birth -- I'm not anyone. I've seen the castle once in my life and that was from the outside. I have no idea about how -- hell, anything in a castle works, not even close, not even vaguely approaching close. I'd have no fucking clue what to do if you gave me any royal responsibilities -- I don't even know what they are. How the hell can you consider marrying me when it's so fucking obvious I'm not what you need?"

Gerard just stares, so shocked that Frank actually thinks that this matters at all, let alone to this extent, that he literally (if only for a moment) stops breathing.

"Frank," he says once he manages again, tone as gentle as he can make it, "Frank -- it's okay. I told my parents when I left, I told them that I was going to marry whoever I wanted -- that he didn't have to be royalty or even someone from the aristocracy. That if they wanted me married, they were going to have to deal with whoever I picked out on my own. And they said yes, okay? They said that was fine. They just want me to be happy, Frank, and I'm not going to be happy unless I marry you, so it's okay."

"No, it's not," Frank replies immediately, now looking more than a little miserable. "It's not okay. It wouldn't even be okay if the law was that you had to marry someone like me -- don't you get it? That wouldn't change anything. That wouldn't make me good enough for you. Nothing could."

This time, Gerard keeps breathing, but that doesn't keep his jaw from dropping open or his expression fading into one of pure, self-righteous outrage.

"Are you serious?" he finally manages, voice low, something in it strong enough that Frank looks back up at him, biting his lip again. "You save my life at least five times over, you show some of the strongest magic I think I've ever seen in my life, you help to fulfill a prophecy you half-figured out yourself that no one's been able to solve for five years -- and you're talking about how you're not good enough for me? And even if," he continues, actually getting to his feet now, voice going more intent and almost fierce, "even if none of that were true, even if all you'd done was live without any idea I existed, it wouldn't matter, because you'd still be you and I'd want to marry you anyway because you're you and I love you for that, not any stupid fucked up idea of what's good enough for me and what isn't, okay? And if anyone objects to that and wants to tell me to my face," he half-growls, gesturing into the air at some unnamed objector, "I'll stuff them into Mount Pencey myself and then you can prove your worth one more time by making the thing erupt on their fucking faces. Let's get exactly one thing straight here, this is what's going to happen. You're going to come back to the castle with me, we're going to get married, you're going to be crowned prince, we're going to rule when my parents die -- which hopefully won't be for a really long time -- and we're going to kick ass at it, we're going to have lots of babies that might be magical princes and princesses, and we are damn well fucking going to live happily ever after."

There's silence at the end of this speech, both in the surroundings and in the audience; Frank has gone utterly still, staring at Gerard like he's never seen anything quite like him before. Unable to take the stillness in the air after too long, Gerard throws his hands up impatiently and demands "What?"

Frank's slow, faint smile wobbles just a little, matching the slight shakiness of his voice when he says "I love you so fucking much."

Caught off-guard by this, Gerard lets his breath out all in a rush, startled, before tentatively returning the small smile. "Good," he says, quietly but fiercely. "Now, are we going to do this or what?"

Frank reaches for the hand Gerard holds out to him and tugs himself to his feet, shifting closer to him. "Well," he considers, "you snore a little, you care about every-fucking-thing in the world way too much until it gets annoying, and you really smell sometimes." He peers thoughtfully at Gerard's face before grinning broadly, sliding an arm around his waist. "But I think I can deal with that."

Gerard laughs quietly -- before now, he would've said it was impossible to be this happy -- and rests a hand at the back of Frank's neck. "Well, you're short, you have a really bad temper -- with magic powers, to boot -- and you think too little of yourself until it gets really annoying," he retorts, thumb absently outlining the outline of the scorpion under his ear.

"Yeah," Frank replies cheerfully, half into the corner of Gerard's mouth as he presses closer. "But you're stuck with me anyway."

Gerard smiles, willingly leaning into him. "I think I can deal with that too."

* * *
Everything goes more or less as Gerard predicts; the outcry that the princess is coming home is raised the minute they ride into one of the villages near the castle two weeks later and so everyone knows to expect them when they reach the royal gates. At first Frank tries to hang back, give Gerard his glory, but Gerard slows his mare down so much that she starts to have trouble starting to walk at all and after a while, Frank takes the hint and rides next to him.

Gerard is greeted enthusiastically (and rather like he's been gone forever rather than just four months) by his parents and almost as enthusiastically if with rather less teary-eyed pride by Ray and Bob. As he predicted (and hoped), all of them immediately take to Frank, who tries not to show how awed he is by the existence of the castle alone and fails (though he gets used to it as quickly as he can). Even Mikey and Brian return to the castle a week after Frank and Gerard do, for the wedding, and they take to Frank just as quickly; the six of them, Gerard and Frank and Mikey and Brian and Ray and Bob, spend most of the nights they're all in the castle together, talking and playing cards and poking at the new inventions the sorcerers leave in the castle, and eventually split up to go to their separate rooms -- Frank and Gerard, Mikey and Brian, and -- well, Gerard's starting to have his suspicions about Ray and Bob. Still, the time they all spend together is more indicative of real friendship than anything he's ever had in his life and he's more grateful than he can say for the easy camaraderie between all of them.

The first night, Gerard and Frank stay with the king and queen, telling them the entire story of fulfilling the prophecy in bits and pieces, trying not to interrupt one another too often (and glossing over certain parts with exchanged meaningful glances). Once they finish, the king formally thanks Frank for his service to the kingdom and the queen charges him with continuing to save her son's life whenever it happened to be necessary (following with a quick overview of all the truly soundproof rooms in the castle, which makes Gerard bury his face in his hands and demand if Frank knows how to make someone disappear).

After their story, they listen to the effects of the prophecy. On the day they finished fulfilling it, King Donald finished negotiating a fifty-year peace treaty with a southern kingdom with which Belleville's always had trouble, a large village plagued by a sphinx for weeks finally captured and killed it, and an isolated northern village experiencing a two-year drought got the largest storm ever recorded. Small but notable things have been happening across the kingdom, not the least of which is a sharp decrease in the sightings of dangerous creatures. Gerard makes a note to also spread the news about the orchards around the Tree of Life bearing fruit again, all the while barely being able to contain his beaming and knowing Frank is doing the same -- Frank because it's people like him that this is helping and Gerard because it's all he's ever wanted to do, make a difference on this sort of scale. He's beyond thrilled that he's already done more than he ever expected to do as queen.

Two weeks after their return to the castle, Gerard stands in front of the assembled crowd and makes a formal announcement, a deeply toned-down version of what he told Frank the last night of their journey, and even toned down as much as it is, it's forceful enough for Frank to confess that night to finding it kind of hot. While Gerard is more than happy with this side effect, the primary purpose seems to have succeeded -- everyone he sees that day is smiling and excited and everyone he speaks to has nothing to offer but seemingly sincere congratulations and good wishes. He's pleased, really; he wouldn't have liked to commit murder on his wedding day.

A month later, Frank is crowned prince in front of an even bigger crowd. He gives a speech before the ceremony, obviously nervous and at a complete loss as to what protocol dictates; it contains a lot of "um"s and hastily-broken-off curses, and at one point he refers to the kingdom as "a pretty cool place". Still, he receives both a standing ovation at the end of the speech and deafening cheers after the actual coronation, Gerard glowing with pride through both. As he'd expected (and hoped), everyone loves Frank; those of lesser birth because he's one of them, and those of higher birth because of his effortless combination of harmlessness -- his humbleness, height, easy grins, and complete ignorance of rules governing royalty -- and power -- his tenacity, unexpected physical strength, and obviously extremely powerful magic. All in all, it goes brilliantly and Gerard never needs to commit murder that day either.

As for the two of them, they don't spend a single night apart in all of the month and a half they're at the castle, barring the night Frank's due to hold a solitary vigil before his coronation. Some nights they spend more time talking than anything else, discovering all of the little things about one another they missed in their preoccupation with saving the kingdom, Gerard teaching Frank all that he can about what their lives are going to be like from now on. Some nights, they don't talk at all, but they still discover quite a bit about one another.

Sometimes, Gerard thinks that he's never going to stop half-believing that this is all some sort of strange, amazing dream. He loves this feeling and hopes it never quite goes away, though in the end, he also doesn't want to lose things like Frank's cold hand casually sticking down his shirt in a public place, the scowl that spreads across his face when he's sure he's right and fuck everyone else, the way he bites Gerard's lip just a little too hard -- the things that remind him that it may not always be smooth, but yes, it's actually real.

And they lived happily ever after.