We're Burning (Frerard)

5. You Want a Part of Me? How About My Middle Finger

Yeah I definitely didn't go on pinterest and downloaded a bunch of Frank photos while looking for one of his eyes.

Anyway, you might wanna bring that axe now kc.

Enjoy.

———

Lindsey, indeed actually woke Gerard up. It was approximately afternoon when she did, borderline evening. Currently, it was around half past six and nearing seven, which meant that the feast was about to begin. There were twenty or so minutes until then and everyone was hurrying around.

Chefs yelled orders and maids went in and out of rooms, fitting the clothes of lords and knights and ladies that came to stay overnight in the castle. Apparently, it was their way of welcoming the Prince back.

Gerard almost laughed at that. They were all just a bunch of suck ups that wanted the King and Prince to like them. Sadly, the King was buying it, about the Prince—Gerard was going to find out soon enough.

Gerard steadied the dishes in his arms, his gaze intently focused on the floor ahead of him. He couldn't stop thinking about his dream, even though more than a half of it was a mystery he couldn't remember. It still lingered in the back of his mind, nibbling on his patience and growing its stomach of worries for Gerard to carry.

It made Gerard want to scream with frustration at something—or even better, someone. Though he knew that won't happen. So instead, he frustratedly and silently walked to the ballroom; where the feast would be taking place. His shackles trailed behind him like a lost puppy.

A few hours ago, the other elves had pushed the massive oak table inside the ballroom. Leaving it so Gerard and the others could dress and set it after thoroughly cleaning and decorating the room.

They were past that part by now, almost everything was done; they just needed to set the table and put the food on it before the feast began—the chefs were too stubborn and wouldn't let them put it there beforehand in fear it would go bad in the little space of time it would be there.

Gerard then, was just rounding the corner on his way to the ballroom, when his eyes came upon a pair of heavy black boots. Quite ungracefully he bowed his head, all while being careful to notice that none of the dishes in the pile in his hands slipped. He bit his lip, and took in a couple of deep breaths, hoping that whatever would happen won't be too bad.

Usually when someone who wasn't an elf passed past Gerard, they would slap or grab his ass, throw an insult or laugh at him, so when that didn't happen, he was rather surprised. But he was even more surprised when he heard a warm voice say: "you don't need to bow. You can lift your head, it's okay,"

Gerard's eyes widened drastically and he drew in a sharp breath; he recognized that voice. And indeed when he lifted his head—in a speed that caused black dots to dance in front of his eyes and make him feel dizzy for a second—he saw the Prince. He stood a meter or two away from Gerard in all his short glory.

Well, he wasn't that short, maybe a couple of centimeters less than Gerard. But still. Different clothes than the ones he came into the castle wearing hugged his body, Gerard noticed. And a lopsided grin was stretched lazily on his lips as he watched him curiously.

"M-My Prince," Gerard stuttered and gulped. "I d-didn't recognize you… F-Forgive me, please," he said softly and let his gaze wonder back to the floor.