midnight madness |frerard; boyxboy|

A Most Pleasant Agreement

Before the Read:

i dont know why i thought of this one shot but here it is. also, I didnt know how to end it so I hope it isn't too bad! i thought the serenade i was listening to fit this one shot really well. & theres some smut! it isnt detailed as im not totally comfortable writing it yet like i used to, but its a start. anyway lemme know what you think fam

There was chanting and shouting all around me, some joyous and some resentful, as the Royal family walked slowly up the stairs of the stands where they'd be sitting during the festival. They looked like a dream; flashes of gold and silk and jewels. None of them smiled, rather held their lips in firm lines with their noses raised a few centimeters. Though subtle, the condescending expression was obvious.

"What pricks," I muttered, spitting at the ground. I stared at them from across the fairground, leaning against a splintered pole.

Bert nudged me with a snort he tried to hide, "Don't you work for them?"

He was right about that. I had worked as a servant for the Royal family for the last two years and I hated every day of it. It was degrading, back-breaking, and just not worth it. I barely made enough to buy meats and bread, yet I worked twice as much as the average peasant. The only reason I wasn't working this very second was because of the festival, but it was right back to it tomorrow morning.

"Yeah, so I have reason to hate them."

Bert shrugged, looking at them in thought again. They were sitting now and a few peasants started approaching them with elegant foods and wines to enjoy while the events took place. It almost made me choke. They wasted so much of the finest foods all the time, never thinking about anyone else.

"I think they look eloquent, Frank. So fancy." Bert said with a shrug.

"Sure, at what cost? I think they look like pigs up there." I looked away, focusing on the two men approaching on horses.

They each went to their assigned sides, armored shoulders pulled back as they lifted their lances. I always loved watching jousting; it was so dramatic and catastrophic. Something about it felt tailored for him, so perfectly gruff and unruly. Most of the royalty looked away during the initial impact, when that was the best moment to give all your attention.

They crashed together, myself and fellow onlookers screaming excitedly. The left horseman's body was slung backwards from the power behind the others' strike, nearly knocking him off the horse. In that moment, I looked up at the stands, finding that the prince was already staring at me.

"What are you looking at, asshole?" I mouthed, hoping the prince wasn't as good at reading lips as the guards could be.

.

.

.

The next day meant I was going right back to routine, catering to the needs and wants of the Royal family. This meant doing anything they deemed fitting, no matter how trivial or unachievable. I'm convinced that the eldest daughter in particular orders me to do pointless things just to watch me suffer.

As I was folding sheets in the washroom, I heard the door shut behind me. At first, I put my arms up around my head in defense. It wasn't unusual for the guards to sneak in and attack me every now and then, as with any lowly servant. I hated looking pitifully beaten up, but the paranoia I felt whenever I was in the castle was much worse.

In a bitterly pleasant surprise, I discovered there were no guards there planning another sinister attack, but the prince.

"Oh," I sighed in relief. "It's you."