Chapter Text
Frank stood behind a tree, attempting to catch his breath. The stench of blood and smoke permeated his senses, making him gag, his eyes stinging. He hated battle, and was grateful that he was too sickly to engage in it, but that wouldn’t stop him from visiting the fallen soldiers. His men looked to him for guidance, and he’d gained quite the reputation by paying his respects to the fallen; his compassion hadn’t gone unnoticed.
“We can go back, your highness,” James, his faithful guard, said quietly by his side. He had to have known it was a moot point by now, but he still persisted. “Your mother will have my head if you fall ill.”
Frank waved him off. “Surely you know how stubborn I am by now, James. I can’t fight in this stupid war, so the least I can do is help these poor men not be alone as they pass.” He sighed, straightening his robes. “I can’t believe this bloody war still rages, after all these years. Do you even remember why we’re fighting?” James shook his head, causing Frank to sigh. “Come now, James. Time to face our greatest shame.”
The truth was, Frank himself had no clue what this war was over; it had been raging for decades, seemingly endless by now, and he was growing desperate to find a way to end it. He mulled over his options as he weaved through the innumerable bodies, young men with their eyes glazed over, swords and arrows sticking through their chests and limbs. Frank did his best not to study their wounds too much, trying to ignore the nearly black blood that stuck to their bodies and coated the earth.
Smoke wafted through the air as he and James walked in silence. He knew how his guard felt about this; he sympathized with the soldiers, knew that the war was a lost cause at this point, but he still saw them as the enemy. James didn’t understand how Frank could feel so kindly towards his enemy, and Frank knew James worried for him. Did this mean the future king was weak?
“Your highness, I think we should go back,” James mumbled. “These boys... they’re all dead.”
Frank surveyed the bodies around him and his heart sank; he was sick of this, the bloodshed, the terror, the unending heartache that this war had started. He hung his head as he continued forth, James trailing behind faithfully, his breath visible in the cold. A hand grabbed him by the ankle, making him leap in the air with a shout. As his heart settled, he looked down to the man who had grabbed him.
A young man, no older than he, lay face up, his hazel eyes wide with fear. A single line of dark red blood trickled from the side of his mouth, a stark contrast on his pale skin; a sword had left a deep gash in his side, blood saturating the earth beneath him. Frank knelt slowly, taking the boy’s hand in his own.
The boy sighed, closing his eyes as he squeezed Frank’s hand. “I’m afraid,” he coughed around the blood in his mouth, “I’m afraid I am a fool.”
“Now why would you say that?” Frank took in his uniform; he was, indeed, the enemy. A high ranking officer, clearly, Frank wondered how he wound up on the frontlines. “Speak to me, soldier, your secrets will be safe.”
“I’m a fool. A fool for fighting in this stupid war, for letting it go to my head. I should have listened to my brother.” His eyes welled with tears, squeezing Frank’s hand so tightly he was afraid his fingers would snap. “He’s so wise, he knew this would happen... god, he warned me of this.” His tears escaped then as his breathing faltered; he was clearly in a great amount of pain. Frank shuffled closer to him then.
“Tell me of your brother, soldier. You seem to love him quite a lot.”
The soldier’s eyes softened then, a smile playing on his lips. “He’s my best friend. Wise, outgoing, so, so smart.” He squeezed Frank’s hand. “The life of the party. Everyone stops when he walks into a room,” he laughed fondly. “I wish I could see him one last time. Just to thank him.”
It was now Frank’s turn to cry. He was an only child, which he’d always resented. He couldn’t imagine what this soldier’s brother would have to go through now. “Perhaps I could tell him for you. I know I am considered the enemy of your ruler, but... it’s the least I can do, to give you some peace.” The boy stared at him, his breathing becoming shallow.
“You’re Frank Iero, aren’t you?”
Frank looked away, as if he had done wrong. “Yes. Yes I am.”
The soldier closed his eyes, and gave one last firm squeeze of Frank’s hand. “Please, Your Highness, please let Gerard Way know his brother Michael passed, and that he was comforted by you, his supposed enemy. Please tell him I love him, and I was the luckiest brother there ever was.”
Frank heard James stir behind them, clearly as shocked as he was. The youngest Way brother, his sworn enemy, was dying in his arms; he was just a boy, who should’ve become a man, a husband, a father. A mix of emotions swirled in him then, rage, sorrow, confusion, guilt.
“I promise,” Frank’s words were thick with tears, “I promise you, Michael Way, to let your brother know. And I promise you I will end this war, even if it is the last thing I do.”
“Thank you, Your Highness. My brother was wrong about you.” He smiled softly, his eyes closing. The hand Frank held loosened its grip as Michael took his last breath. Frank sat with Michael’s body until the sun went down, not wanting to leave him. James was eventually able to coax him back to his feet, knowing their absence would not go unnoticed.
“How will you tell him?” James asked on their way back to the palace, referring to Michael’s brother.
“I don’t know; but I have to. I never break a promise.”
*
The next morning, Michael Way’s body was retrieved from the fields, cleaned, and placed in the finest coffin Frank could commission. His mother frowned upon this, unsure why her son was taking such care of a man that would’ve killed him if he had the chance.
“I promised, mother, and you know how I feel about promises,” he sighed as he rounded the staircase to his rooms. “He was just a boy, no older than I, I couldn’t just leave him there.”
“And I’m pleased to know I’ve raised a noble son, but darling, the Way family would have your head if they could,” she pleaded with him, grabbing his arm. He stopped in his tracks, turning to look at her. “I understand that you want this war to end, but please, let this lie, Frank. We will send them the body, but you needn’t correspond with the brother, it’s too dangerous.” The look in her eyes was one of fear and concern, and he understood. His mother only wanted to keep him safe, but with his father long dead and his mother’s declining health, she would step down, he would soon be king. Difficult decisions would fall to him frequently, and he was sure he was making the right choice.
“I love you, mother, and I’ll take your concern into consideration.” Her expression softened, and she let go of his arm. “But I’m afraid I must do this.”
“Frank, please!”
*
His Royal Highness PrinceGerard Arthur Way I-
My deepest sympathies for you and your family during this difficult time. I cannot know what it is like to lose a sibling, but I imagine your pain is immeasurable. You and your family are in my thoughts, yet I know that is not enough.
I spoke with Michael before he passed, and I made a promise to him that I intend to keep: he wanted you to know he loved you, and that he was the luckiest brother that there ever was. He didn’t die alone; I was with him as he slipped away, and we spoke of many things, mainly his love for you, and his desire for this war to end.
Perhaps one day we can come to a truce. I wish for it more than anything, and I hope we can learn to live in peace.
Regards,
His Royal Highness PrinceFrank Anthony Iero II
*
Gerard tucked the letter in his nightstand, running a hand through his short, white hair. His heart was beating double time, his eyes red and sore from the tears. There was nothing he wanted more than to talk to Michael about this, to tell him there was finally a chance for peace; his heart sank.
“Michael, what am I supposed to do without you?” He stood and headed for his balcony that overlooked the gardens, the moon hanging high and full that night.
“You know what he would want you to do,” he heard his mother’s raspy voice behind him. Turning to look at her, he didn’t understand how she could be so composed, so calm. He wished he knew her secret. “Shall I send for Ray?”
Gerard gulped, turning back to look at the sky. “Do you think it will work? Can we finally end this?”
His mother was by his side then, a gentle hand on his arm. “I cannot say.” Gerard laid his head on her shoulder. “But we should try, for Michael's sake. In his honor.” He breathed her scent in deeply, letting it calm him before he left the balcony and settled at his desk, preparing to send an invitation to Ray.
“I’ll inform Ray that we will meet with him,” he decided, straightening himself. “He’s been waiting for this for a long time.”
His mother was back at his side, hand on his shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Gerard. And Michael would be, too.” She left him then, her dress robes sweeping and billowing about her elegantly.
Taking a deep breath, he set his quill to the parchment in front of him.