Chapter Text
Gerard walked the halls of the castle. This was one of the very few moments he got alone, able to think for himself. One of those moments where he didn't have to take responsibility for the country and one where he didn't have to wear his crown. Thank God. He thought it was far to heavy.
His anxiety was eating away at him again. Being next in line for the throne wasn't fun. So much stress and so many decisions. Gerard's anxiety had become worse after his brother, Mikey's death during the now-finished war.
He stopped before Mikey's painting on the wall and let his eyes drink in his every feature. His hooded eyes, the slight smirk upon his lips.
Gerard had to walk away as tears threatened to fall, and he walked to the library; the one place his head was finally quiet.
He strolled through the bookshelves, reading each book's title before picking up a book of poetry and sitting down near the window overlooking the front of the castle. Gerard read in silence, save for the scratching of his fountain pen on the book. Luckily, no one else used this library and definitely didn't read these books.
He spilled his thought about each poem carefully, underlining techniques the poets had used. Gerard's gaze shifted to the courtyard below him and he watched a carriage pull up to the gates. He frowned. They weren't expecting visitors today.
The door to the carriage opened, and a tall, thin man with short, curly black hair stepped out, impeccably dressed with infinite ruffles and in all the darkest colours.
Something we have in common, Gerard thought. He couldn't remember when he'd last worn something with actual colour that wasn't the darkest shade of it, but he knew it was sometime before Mikey died.
"Thought I'd find you here." The voice pulled Gerard from his trail of thought. It was Frank, his servant.
"Hello, Frank," Gerard greeted him. He liked Frank. He was sassy, cocky and playful.
"Hello, Your Highness," he sighed, walking to the windowsill and resting his arms next to Gerard's feet. "I see you've noticed the new jester."
"Him?" Gerard breathed.
"Yes," Frank replied, annoyance clear in his voice. "Apparently, he's just as cocky as me, some say he's worse."
"Hm," Gerard hummed with a smirk. "I will eat him alive."
"That's what I said," his servant sighed. "The Queen wants you to come and greet him."
Gerard rolled his eyes and returned the poetry book to the shelves before following his servant down to the courtyard.