Agent 03

agent 03
Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/31792408.
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Category: M/M
Fandom: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Relationship: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Character: Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF),
GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Minx | JustAMinx (Video
Blogging RPF), Niki | Nihachu, Wilbur Soot, Technoblade (Video
Blogging RPF), TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Alexis | Quackity,
Darryl Noveschosch, Jack Manifold, Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF),
Cara | CaptainPuffy, Toby Smith | Tubbo, Floris | Fundy
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Not Canon Compliant, Sparring, Angst,
Heavy Angst, No Smut, Bittersweet Ending, Royalty
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2021-06-07 Chapters: 25/? Words: 31028
agent 03
by orphan_account
Summary
What so many wouldn't give to live Prince George's life, even for a mere moment.
However, nobody ever got to observe from his viewpoint. Nobody ever understood what
"living without a worry" was really like. Countless things were never vocalized, or shielded
from the public on purpose. He wasn't living a lie, he did get to partake in the events that
people would only ever experience in their dreams, but the matters that went on behind the
backdrop were enough to shatter the pearly white illusion that was living royally.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes

preface
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
hi and welcome to agent 03! this is originally a wattpad fic so sorry for this very not-chill intro
haha
(please do read all of this! it isn't mandatory but definitely encouraged!)
i would like to start off by saying thank you to everyone who waited these few months and stayed
patient while i rewrote it :)
these are just a few things to acknowledge before reading
1| the original can no longer be accessed at all if you do not already have access to the original
document (and no, you cannot ask to be added)
2| this is not a medieval au! just a plain ol' royalty au! i've seen people recommend it as fantasy or
medieval but i really wouldn't consider it to be either of those. it has a few fantastical elements (like
fundy being part fox and puffy being part sheep) and it may have some medieval inspirations, but
that's about it. however, if you're looking for medieval.. go check out bitter water (another one of
my books) ;)
3| it is not going to be identical to the original in regards to like, plotline and stuff. it is going to be
overall pretty much the same, but a lot of things are going to be added, taken out, cleared up, etc.
therefore, it's going to be a lot longer. the original was 30k words, this one is 50k so yeah, have fun
HAHAH (there's also about 5 or so added scenes/events and you'll actually get to read about
george's birthday party this time i promise)
4| my boundaries. i know lots of people know what agent 03 is and frankly it quite scares me haha.
basically, just stay courteous. i don't mind you talking about it on tiktok or twitter or whatever as
long as you aren't forcefully shoving it in people's faces. that goes for donos too! i don't mind them,
i actually think it's quite cool, as long as you're not forcing it into the cc's face! you can dono about
it, (i can't really stop you) just do not spoil anything, do not mention any of the triggering topics
involved, and do not say anything like "oh have you read agent 03?" or "read agent 03 right now"
because that just makes us all look bad :')
5| this kinda goes along with 4 but i've gotten a lot of "will ______ scene still be included?" and the
best answer i can give is... probably? all of the scenes i've seen been asked about are still included,
but there are a lot of scenes that have been majorly altered or even fully taken out so yeah, the best
i can say is maybe. just read and find out :)
6| characters. 1) there are a few added smp characters since the original 2) schlatt, minx, techno,
etc. i know a lot of people don't support them, but they're still going to be included. it would be
very inconvienent to change characters completely and in my opinion, i completely separate
character from person. this is all fictional. i don't see agent 03 schlatt as youtube schlatt, for
example. you don't have to relate them if you wouldn't like to. i'm simply using their names and
sticking em to characters i made up in my stinky brain. it's understandable if you don't agree, but
please respect my decision.
7| comment etiquette? ig? personally i do not really like keysmash comments. (ex:
"JDNBHUHBJSAKHBJIDKOHIDWUJISX") i find them obnoxious and annoying hhahahaha... if
you're going to comment, have it be relative to the story please! this includes talking about other
fics in my comments. believe me, i love those fics just as much as you, but it's disrespectful to do
that in an author's comments, especially on the fic of an author who looks at comments religiously.
there's a time and place for it.
8| names. since i discovered sapnap, tubbo, niki, etc. do not like their full names being used, i will
be changing/not using their real/full names in this story :)
9| there is going to be no smut at all involved. i am only 15, please have mercy HAHA
10| yes, i am aware of their real ages lmao but for the sake of the story, george will be 19 for a
short time but turn 20
11| again on the not being a medieval thing, it's pretty much timeless in a modern way. they have
cars and stuff but i never mention anything about phones and such so take it in any understanding
that makes sense for you. i saw a lot of comments on the original about having cars in a medieval
time period and they just made me physically violent (/j) because it is timeless, not medieval haha
12| im sure if you're reading this you already know but agent 03 is an angst fic. there is going to be
a lot of it. i've seen countless people cry because of the ending, but it is quite odd to me to see
people "brag" about not crying at the end. i get it, i really do, people all handle sadness differently
(and i personally do not even find it to be that sad myself) but i really do not care if you did or did
not cry lmao so saying things like "it wasn't even that sad didn't cry smh" is just unnecessary
13| SPOILING PLEASE DEAR GOD DO NOT SPOIL THINGS (ON ANY PLATFORM) keep
your big mouths shut /lh
14| this is "shipping" their characters, not them as real people. i don't even really like the term
shipping since it comes with so much... stigma? i guess? but yeah just wanted to clarify that
15| I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT SPLATOON THE NAME ISN'T A SPLATOON
REFERENCE I PROMISE :CRIES DRAMATICALLY: also if you're gonna abbreviate it, just say
03 or something because a03 looks so much like ao3 :cries even more:
<3 thank you for reading, and i hope you enjoy agent 03
Chapter End Notes
Join the agent03 discord server! https://discord.gg/PH6Y4vXHU2

Chapter One
Chapter Notes
from a prince’s eyes, living a royal life was considerably dull despite the romanticized daydreams
many had.
It often came as a shock to most. They envision it to be gloriously lavish and exciting. Grand
palaces decorated with finely clipped hedges in the shapes of beasts, elegant ballgowns that would
whirl across the polished marble floors like a silk river, corridors with vaulted ceilings that you
could dance through for hours while singing your heart out because it felt as if you were in a film,
and you ought to be, living like that. And of course, you couldn't leave out the fancy, expensive
meals served at even more expensive-looking receptions with venues the size of a small town.
What so many wouldn't give to live Prince George's life, even for a mere moment.
However, nobody ever got to observe from his viewpoint. Nobody ever understood what "living
without a worry" was really like. Countless things were never vocalized, or shielded from the
public on purpose. He wasn't living a lie, he did get to partake in the events that people would only
ever experience in their dreams, but the matters that went on behind the backdrop were enough to
shatter the pearly white illusion that was living royally.
If an ordinary, lower-middle-class villager that lived an average, somewhat stressful life was
questioned what arose to mind when they heard the word "royal," possibly the colors red or gold
would, signifying vigor and abundance. Maybe heaps of gold coins and an enormous, fanciful
castle with dreamy piano notes echoing throughout the halls. A throne embellished with priceless
gemstones and a heavy crown that anyone would desire, perhaps? However, what would a prince
ponder about the word if he was familiar with noticing and encountering everything associated
with the word on a daily basis? He might correlate it to everyday life, and George's "everyday life"
was far less impressive than pockets packed full of gold coins, glittery coronets resting atop the
heads of those that ruled, and the prominent castles that sheltered them; the ones that ordinary
people gazed upon with envy and longing. To George, the term "royal" was nothing but a word that
the less fortunate used to describe the ones they wished they were. Sure, he was a member of the
royal family, that was a fact, but it had been so overused that its meaning deteriorated to him over
time. Now, it was nothing but a word that he loathed hearing, and he heard it much more than he
would have preferred to.
George's everyday life consisted of approximately three things. Those three matters consisted of
remaining still and looking professional for the cameras, sitting silently and looking professional
for company, and doing absolutely nothing in his room that seemed to get smaller and more
suffocating every minute he spent in it, despite it being much larger than it needed to be. Very
rarely, he'd be permitted to visit the flower garden by himself, but that was the furthest extent. His
limitations were tighter than the corsets all the ladies dressed in to the manor festivities.
The kingdom's solitary prince was approaching his twentieth birthday, it was utterly absurd that he
wasn't even authorized to leave the castle by himself. He never got to partake in typical teenage
ventures like adoring a significant other, participating in competitive sports that almost always
ended in injury, or anything of the likes.
All he was obliged to do was sit idly in his room and take part in "non-dangerous pursuits" such as
counting the clouds that lined the sky, reading every book the monarchy owned until he could
repeat them word by word, front to back; or his personal favorite activity... laying like a starfish on
a plush rug on his tauntingly chilly floor and wishing he was born to a peasant family.
He understood his parents only wanted what was best for him. They only wanted to shield him. He
knew he should be grateful to have parents that worried about him. Many didn't possess that
luxury. However, sometimes he couldn't help but assume they only cared so much because he was
their only child. He was their sole son, the one they claimed they treasured most. But did they
genuinely mean it? Or were they just protective of their only heir to the throne? Was he truly
cherished by them, or was he just an object they needed to preserve until it was necessitated?
Birthdays were never of importance to George. His birthday was arriving soon, which proposed
there would be a gathering. The pitiable prince eternally tried to force himself to deem parties
enjoyable. They weren't. Even his own birthday party was more about his parents than him. That's
why he had never grown to look forward to them. All that came with him aging a year was a dinner
full of businessmen and their prissy wives with too much lipstick addressing business matters with
the king and queen. Nobody would even directly wish him a happy birthday. He'd get a cupcake
with too much frosting, a pat on the back, and a worthless gift that had no value to him. He desired
something he could become fond of. Something he could develop an attachment to. Not a new
clasp for his crushed velvet cloak or a silk blanket he would be destined to cast to his closet and
never look upon ever again.
He craved a life that wasn't so guiltily unendurable.
---
It was late. Much later than George ordinarily stayed up. He couldn't sleep, which was odd seeing
as he adored sleeping more than anything. Closing his eyes and drifting to rest was a justification to
evade the real world and experience whatever his brain decided to conjure up that evening. He
could skip the entire day so effortlessly, instead spending it in a blurry fictitiously comforting
world. It was much more enjoyable than perching on his floor and determining whether he wanted
to play Uno with himself and still somehow lose or rearrange his wardrobe for the 57th time that
month. Maybe by material instead of color this time around. He wasn’t exactly phenomenal at
organizing by color.
Gently, his chest rose and settled again. He inhaled deeply, taking in the scents he was so
unwillingly accustomed to, his thin body sprawled out carelessly on his velvety bed. Musingly
gloomy and hazy moonlight was the only thing illuminating his now-tinted azure room.
He couldn't stand it.
Chapter End Notes
follow my twitter- https://twitter.com/oh_dreeeam?lang=en

Chapter Two
Chapter Notes
mornings were perpetually groggy.
George had never favored getting up. Essentially because it stripped him from his fantasy worlds,
but also partially because it meant he'd have to persevere through yet another day of sheer apathy.
It was a never-ending cycle. At least when he was still of age to attend school, he had something to
do or look forward to. Even if it just consisted of readings directed by a privately hired mentor in
the castle library, it still gave him something to think about.
A wide yawn slipped from George's mouth as he reached his arms out, trying to stagger off the
dreariness. The same routine every single day.
George trudged out of his room hesitantly, wishing he could just have ten minutes more in the bed
he slept his worries away in. He treaded through the finely furnished halls, ones that common
individuals would take much enjoyment in viewing, with much disinterest on his face.
Breakfast varied every morning. That was one of the very few things George sincerely enjoyed
every day. And to say that the only thing retaining your joy was wondering if you were going to get
an omelette for breakfast is quite disappointing, wouldn't you believe so?
"What a pleasure for you to finally show up, dear!" George's mother, the Queen, said in a slightly
passive-aggressive tone whilst buttering her toast at the unnecessarily long dining table of theirs.
For a family of three, who needs a table to sit twenty-five?
Her temper was always polluted with sardonic enthusiasm.
The queen had always been one to honor a tight schedule. George rolled his eyes but only enough
for himself to discern and feel better about. "Mother, I'm only ten minutes late. Besides, it's only
breakfast, I'm sure you'll survive me missing ten minutes of stuffing my face full of bread." George
huffed. It wasn't often he taunted the beast, but he was feeling especially cynical that morning.
His mother shot him a piercing glare as if to say "watch your tone" without actually voicing it. The
queen's dreadful glower was more effective than a scolding. George sat down at the opposing end
of the table to eat. He didn't want to have to interact with his mother if he didn't need to, especially
if their first interaction of the day had already started off on the wrong foot. The tension between
them was uncomfortable and confined. Like the walls were closing in on him at his mother's fault.
---
After he had filled his stomach with foods that he had frequently that others would visit sumptuous
restaurants for, George went straight back up to his room, as per usual. He sat snugly on top of the
pillow resting upon his window seat, admiring the looming oak trees that lined the horizon. If only
he could get the opportunity to see the trees up close one day, or even brush his hand against them.
To touch another life with his bare hands.
Unexpected movement alongside a pale rosebush grabbed his attention. Somebody he had never
before noticed in the castle was stooping anxiously by the roses, glancing around frantically.
Though, George could not discern their facial features, as they were hidden to mysterious secrecy
by a porcelain, ivory-white mask with a somewhat sinister smiley face painted across the surface
like a child had been given a canvas. George rose from his seat slowly, contemplating alerting his
mother or a guard about the unfamiliar person.
George got a grasp on himself and determined it must have been a new operator or groundskeeper
that he just hadn't had the glorious pleasure of meeting yet. The mask was a peculiar addition, but
he hadn't ever been one to judge. To each their own. His mother was very judgemental, he didn't
want to be even remotely comparable to her. He decided it would be best to mind his own business.
He'd meet him eventually. The guards would have already taken care of it had they been an
intruder. Nobody suspicious would be able to get through those gates. At least, that's what
everyone had automatically assumed.
He did feel somewhat uncomfortable, but it wasn't enough to edge him to seek cover. The masked
individual could just be incredibly shy, or maybe part of some odd belief. George was scouring his
brain for reasons not to feel unsafe.
The unusual person caught sight of George staring out of the glass and promptly vanished behind
the dense rosebush, certain George didn't notice him. However, George very much did notice him.
He nudged his head against the glass, trying to spot the person again, but he gave up after a few
minutes of waiting. George wasn't entirely sure the person was even there in the first place. Maybe
he had started to believe himself to be going mad. It wasn't a farfetched idea to him, his life was so
insufferably monotonous, it would make sense his mind would start deceiving him into perceiving
things that weren't actually there in an attempt to make the world more enjoyable.
George decided a nap would do him good.

Chapter End Notes

Chapter Three
Chapter Notes
the time had arrived to commence the planning for george's birthday banquet, which was
inevitably going to end up with him sitting isolated in a darkened bathroom, wondering why he
wasn't allowed to do what he wanted for his birthday.
Even though it was George's birthday, he wasn't involved in the majority of the preparation. That
wasn't his business, according to every adult he came in contact with. Though, he did get to select
the occasional decoration or offered snack. It may seem so insignificant to someone different, but it
was enough for George. He was grateful he got to choose at least something rather than nothing at
all. Of course, he still didn't feel in control in any sense, but he had that tiny ounce of authority.
George was instructed growing up to be appreciative of everything he was allowed and to never
complain about not being given something. He was taught to be pleased that he even had
something as simple as a birthday party. It was essentially a positive thing, but it was taken much
too far in the royal family. To the king and queen, anything that was “desired but not deemed
required” was an absolute privilege. George never received anything he coveted no matter how
respectful he acted, even if it was something as small as ice cream after mealtime. If George had
asked to be more involved in the planning of a gathering many attended, he'd be ignored, if not
punished.
To add to the pitifulness of it, he was never undeviatingly told why he wasn’t allowed to assist in
planning. George always had the impression it was due to how much babying his mother and father
had always done towards him. They believed he wasn’t mature enough to make his own judgments
despite him being a legal adult. Sometimes it felt as if they had no idea he was almost twenty years
old, and it infuriated George for good reason. He wanted to do things for himself, but it was a lost
cause. His parents did all of the assemblage planning for him because they didn’t want him to
interfere with their business opportunities.
---
"Would you prefer blue or green streamers? And have you decided on a cake pattern yet? We
determined having the party in the dining hall wouldn't work after looking back at the guest list.
We've moved it to the ballroom floor so it'll be more spacious." The queen was digging through a
crate of decorations that had already seen years of use, conserving what looked presentable and
flinging what she regarded unusable into the trash bags next to her. Based on her mannerisms, she
was already acting as if he didn't answer in the next 2.5 seconds, she would detonate. It was ironic.
She could buy anything she desired, yet still preserved decorations each year.
She never gave George a proper chance to respond to her ridiculous commands. She never had, and
it was presumed that she never would in the future either.
"Um, blue I guess," his heart pained knowing she clearly didn't even recognize the fact that he
couldn't even see green, "and not yet, I was never even told we were having a cake this year. Also,
isn't the ballroom too big for something like this? Why wouldn't we have enough space in the
dining hall?" George responded, trying his utmost to answer as quickly as possible to avoid the
fiery wrath of an angry mother.
She seemed quite annoyed. "Honey, dear, you ask too many questions." Her words dripped with
hypocrisy and it was enough to make George nauseous. "The dining hall isn't large enough for the
guests attending. About the cake, check in with your father. He was supposed to take you to the
bakery today."
The part about having too many guests stood out to the prince. George had never had any events
formal enough to require any more guests than the palace staff; and surely not formal enough to
expect enough guests to flood the dining hall. George shook it off, assuming he would find out
why there were so many people attending at a later date and went on his way to find his father.
There was no use prying for an answer he'd never receive.
---
The village bakery had always been quite a charming and serene place. The scent of freshly baked
pastries saturated the air and the atmosphere was just delightful. George didn't get to come often,
so he made sure to thoroughly enjoy the few times a year he got the chance to. The bakery could
benefit from a renovation, as it was run by an elderly couple who couldn't take impeccable care of
it, but that didn't stop George from treasuring every inch of it. The paint was starting to yellow, but
it fed into the worn and homey environment. It was inherently a glorious day when George got to
leave the restrictions of his prison-like home.
Birthday cakes were not at all the bakery's specialty, but they agreed to take on the challenge of
baking a large, three-tiered cake of Prince George's choice, along with 75 cupcakes for guests to
choose from. They needed the money and the bakery was conveniently close to the castle. George
didn't particularly have anything in mind when it came time to describe what he wanted, so he just
blabbered whatever came to mind first.
"Just a plain white cake will work... Or chocolate if it's easier, I don't mind. I like any frosting,
really. I'm sorry, I'm not very good at this.." He felt sorry for making his father and the poor old
lady writing down his requests wait on him for so long.
Chapter End Notes

Chapter Four
Chapter Notes
only three days were remaining before george would leave his teen years in the dust, though
nothing would feel remotely different.
The melancholic prince was savoring the alone time he was having in the flower garden, even
though he could practically count most of his days as "alone time." The flower garden was a
pleasant area to unwind in. It was less of a garden and more of a vast, slightly sloping meadow
filled to the brim with wildflowers of all sorts, but it sounded more dressy when the queen could
say to people that she owned a flower garden rather than a field of weeds. It included about ten
acres of soft grass and hundreds upon thousands of wildflowers growing scattered about. The
perimeter of the meadow was blocked in by dense oak trees and only a forlorn willow tree grew
lonesomely in the heart of the garden.
It was an astonishing sight to behold at sundown, however, George was required to be back in his
room by five. He glimpsed at the miniature clock fixated to his wrist, morosely reading half-past
four. Most days, he turned to watch from his window instead. The way the last glowing bits of
daylight melted around the petals made him feel like everything he lived through was worth it in
the end. No matter how dull his life was, he could take comfort in the smaller things. It sounded
underwhelming to even himself, but he truly appreciated it.
George was resting delicately in a patch of flowerless grass in order to avoid breaking any fragile
flora. He valued a flower's life just as much as his own. Plucking at the blades of grass, George
sweetly smiled as he reminisced on his younger days. The days before his cheerfulness was forced
to decay.
---
"Come along, young one." George's nanny spoke softly and cordially, extending her palm towards
the 7-year-old prince. "I have something to show you- it's a surprise I've been waiting to reveal!"
Whenever George got to encounter something out of the ordinary, he became very eager.
She courteously bowed to the king after a futile attempt to calm the prince and directed George
through the enormously towering entrance that allowed one to access the pathway to the garden.
After a brief stroll past the courtyard fountains that housed some of George's beloved lilypads and
beyond the looming willow trees with souls older than the castle itself, the little prince gazed upon
wildflowers as far as the eye could see. He had never been to this section of the palace.
His eyes lit up with the intensity of a thousand stars. "Flowers!" George giggled, letting go of the
tight grip on his nanny's hand and springing directly into the field. He moved as speedily as his
stubby legs would allow him and, of course, tumbled over himself and landed in the pasture
blanketed with blossoms. His nanny glowed with delight in response and hastened to go help him
to his feet.
Rather than allowing himself to be propped up and brushed off, George rolled over onto his back
and swung his arms up above his head while outspreading his legs; he was pretending to make
snow angels in the flowers.
His nanny found much joy in his antics and also rolled into the grass to join him at the edge of the
field where sorrow was no longer acknowledged. The brilliant blue sky was dotted with puffy
white clouds and the air was scented like every herbal tea George had ever smelled his nanny
make in the late afternoons. The evenings when the earth was still heated from the sun and the
heavens were just beginning to turn rosy.
When the pair rose up, the prints of their bodies lingered in the grass in the form of petals and
stems compressed against the soil.
That was one of George's most treasured recollections. One of the only truly memorable ones from
when he was a child.
Strangely, his nanny disappeared a few weeks after that and George felt as if his spirit had been
utterly shattered. He eventually came to accept the departure of his dearest friend, but it still
seemed like his heart was only just recklessly pieced back together with a few adhesive Hello Kitty
bandaids and some school glue that never proved to dry. He never did discover what happened to
her.
---
George snapped back into actuality, a little more miserable than before. It was a bittersweet thing
to look back upon. On one hand, he was grateful for the memories. On the other, he certainly
wished she had been there when everything came crashing down on him. He didn't want to feel
so... abandoned.
George swung his head back up when he overheard something passing through the flowers. They
clearly weren't being particularly stealthy about it.
It was the masked person he had observed earlier. Directly in front of him. It instantly sent a
panicked shiver throughout George's body.
Chapter End Notes

Chapter Five
Chapter Notes
immediately, george recognized just how tall the person was when he wasn't peeking at them
through a window and alternatively was sat helplessly in front of them.
George began to back up somewhat, still taking caution to avoid damaging the wildflowers his
palms threatened to press upon. He didn't utter a word, he simply stared.
The masked individual rested down crisscross in front of him. They sat in silence for what seemed
like ages but was really only but ten seconds. George was striving to form a sentence, except he
was essentially too confused to actually do that.
"Hey."
It was unsettling—distinguishing a voice arising from a mask with a mouth that never moved.
George didn't respond. He didn't know who this person was and he positively wasn't that stupid.
The person inched a little closer and readjusted his position. "Gonna answer? Or are you just going
to keep staring?" George shook his head, eyes wide with uncertainty, and backed up in response to
him getting closer. "I- I-, no?"
"But you just did."
A scoff was delivered as a reply. "Who are you?" Instead of George receiving a simple answer, the
masked man reached his right hand out, asking without words to shake George's hand. It was
bound tightly with ivory white bandages, giving off an unusual sense of mysteriousness, and was
visibly larger than George's.
The prince's hand lingered nervously at his side, his other propping himself up in the greenery. "If
you don't tell me who you are right now, I'm informing guards immediatel-" "Dream."
He got his answer.

"Excuse me, what?"
"It's Dream. My name."
George's intense nervousness wore into hesitant curiosity. "I... don't mean to sound arrogant but...
Is that... is that your real name?" He still couldn't stare directly into the beady eyes of the mask. His
gaze was instead on his own fingers. "Mhmm." Dream hummed in rejoinder, not a trace of disbelief
lacing his tone.
It crashed over George like a tidal wave that he was speaking to a potential criminal in the royal
grounds. However, he hadn't hurt him yet. "Oh... That's," he hesitated, scanning for a word that
wouldn't offend, "unique." George glimpsed behind himself, wordlessly searching for a guard in
sight.
The stillness was uncomfortable and stagnant until Dream decided to break it again, finally
lowering the hand that George never took to shake. "And yours is basic. I've met a million people
named George. And they're all pricks. At least mine has personality." Though Dream was
venturing to make light of the conversation and allow himself to make a sarcastic joke, George
didn't pick up on the tone. "What?"
Dream waited in silence for George to begin the next topic of disturbing conversation.
George didn't like this. "How the hell do you know my name, anyway?"
The smiley mask ridiculed him. "You're the prince. It would be stranger if I didn't."
A nod of realization arose from the prince. "Ah, that is true. My apologies. But who are you,
really? Why are you here?" The concern had dissolved into pure confusion.
Before Dream could react, his attention drifted to a guard at the very edge of the meadow looking
to notify George that it was time to return. He rapidly readjusted his mask and raced off without
leaving a verbal answer for George. However, his sudden escape was enough of an answer in itself
for George.
---
Later that evening, George had been left to his own thoughts again. His mind wouldn't let go of the
encounter, which was reasonable seeing as nothing had ever happened like it before. Luckily,
nobody had directly come across them chatting. The entire castle's security would go up in flames
of rage and confusion.
Dream didn't seem particularly dangerous. He definitely possessed the capacity to be, but he never
ended up hurting George. He found himself unable to stop querying about what his intentions
were, and if he'd be back.
George sat desolately at his windowpane, observing the stars twinkle like they were loudly
mocking him. They were so free, he was so cemented. He resented it.
Chapter End Notes

Chapter Six
Chapter Notes
dream rested solemnly at the far edge of the now deserted wildflower grassland, peering up at the
dismal sky and sighing deeply.
No guards ever bothered investigating the flower field nightly. It was so seemingly endless and
would be exasperatingly dull to walk the entire thing, checking over each and every nook. If they
didn't have to do something, they weren't going to.
Dream concluded it was most manageable for him to simply relax in the garden rather than to
creep out of the palace grounds to someplace in the village. It may have appeared to be overly
risky, but he had his reasons. Firstly, he wouldn't have to slink furtively back into the densely
guarded areas every single day. He was perfectly capable of it, he just found it to be more of an
inconvenience than anything. Secondly, he wouldn't have to speak with painfully drunk
townspeople sauntering about at ungodly hours entreating him unusual questions or pleading for a
few dollars, presumably for another beer that the tavern should have already denied the request
for.
Lastly, the grass was surprisingly very pleasant to lay into. The stars that freckled the sky were
delightful to study with their soothing, radiant luminosity. Truthfully, the crickets were ordinarily a
nuisance, but on this rare occasion, they were instead a pleasant addition. He let out a faint breath
as he propped his head up stiffly on his arms behind his head. The midnight air was warm but not
muggy, the ideal temperature. He wondered what George was up to in his regal life.
Dream discerned that he was probably sleeping, when in reality, he was gazing upon the very same
stars as George was in that same moment.
Dream dissipated into thought fairly quickly. He was appointed to execute the pitiful prince. He
typically didn't have much of an issue with eliminating members of the royal family since he had
already done it various times, so he didn't know why he felt so uncertain about having to kill
George. He was just like any other prince, why was he feeling sorry this time? Perhaps it was the
circumspect way he chose his words. Or his particular mannerisms? Maybe it was the way he so
absentmindedly made sure not to harm the wildflowers that besieged him.
But he had only known him for a fleeting time. So far, he had solely communicated with him in
person once, and it hadn't exactly gone flawlessly. Dream didn't want to get attached to him; that
was the plan at the dead bottom of his mental to-do list. It hadn't worked out strongly in the past.
Thoughts correlating to that conflict were not welcomed with open arms in his head, but sometimes
his thoughts engulfed him like an inescapable tsunami.
Distinctly, he could recall the roaring, raging flames that snapped at the atmosphere and the
choking fumes of soot that flooded his lungs with no regret. Tormenting outcries from the
individuals attempting absolutely anything and everything they could to get their beloved families
out of the blaze played like looped cassettes in his mind. Jeopardizing their own lives, adrenaline
taking charge. He could remember the very second he released that matchstick over the heap of
books. The second everything went up in sparks. He could evoke the one sound he'd never forget.
One last desperately fearful scream. One that would plague him for his entire life, never giving up.
The scream that indicated his target was successfully eliminated.
Dream detested remembering that outcry with every fiber of his being. He had even gone as far as
to deliberately attempt to give himself amnesia so that there was the chance he would no longer
have to remember it. To give him the chance to sleep a full night without any issues.
He had, by mistake, befriended a target once. Additionally, it was not just an average friendship. It
was that of a soulmate connection. Not the affectionate, lovers soulmate variety, it was a friendship
bonded together by two souls. The kind of friendship you would give anything to keep safe and
healthy. You would die just for the other person to be satisfied and beaming because to you, they
deserved it more than anyone else.
Dream never considered he'd encounter that type of admiration. He cherished him so profoundly.
He was his most faithful friend even though he had only known him for four abrupt months. It felt
as if he had known him for several lifetimes the moment they first spoke.
Those four months were packed to the brim with beaming smiles, goofy midnight conversations,
merriment, and acceptance, but trepidation and guilt poisoned the final week.
Dream's life was endangered when he brought up a potential exemption from his target. He was
taught a lesson and that lesson was to never create authentic, genuine relationships with your
targets. Gain the trust and eliminate. As simple as that. But it wasn't simple when you had to kill
the one person you wanted to live forever with, listening in extensive torment until their cries of
limitless agony subsided to an eerie quietness.
Dream had even contemplated giving up his own life before the date arrived so that he wouldn't
have to take out another, but he knew thoroughly that his organization would just send another
agent out. He didn't want to be selfish by taking his own life so he wouldn't have to undergo the
strain.
So he drained the gasoline over the mound of novels the two had spent incalculable hours
reenacting and ignited the match. The severest mistake of his life. He wished he had also burned in
that fire so that maybe, just maybe, their souls could be together again, and he could just explain .
Alternately, he had to exist with that guilt his entire life. And he was only twenty.
---
Dream snapped out of his hopeless reverie. His breathing was rapid and irregular. He was balled up
in the grass, sweating bullets, his nails digging crescents into his palms as an involuntary
punishment. His subconscious was racing with so many negative thoughts, switching like
television stations. He felt so incompetent, so trivial, so vexatious. He wanted to shred out all of the
grass and let all of his emotions out but he was told that displaying negative emotion was wrong.
He would never confess it to anybody, not even himself, but he was crying. The mockingly warm
tears spilling upon his cool skin were subtle, but they were there. Slowly taking long breaths,
Dream eventually gained authority over his emotions. He sat in unbroken silence for a few
moments, his head rested on his knees as he plucked small shoots from the ashen soil.
"I still miss you. A lot. I... I'm sorry."
Chapter End Notes
If you’re a rereader, please don’t spoil who Dream’s target was haha
I’m writing it into a different part, so if you already know, just keep it to yourself :’)

Chapter Seven
Chapter Notes
two days remained until george's birthday ball arrived, leaving him with a sharp sense of
impending despair.
George had barely finished breakfast before considering asking his mother if he could visit the
flower garden again, expecting to run into Dream. He was heavily under the impression that she
was going to instantly decline since he had just been out the preceding day, but he figured he'd at
least try. He was somewhat fearful of Dream still, but feeling frightened was much favored over
interminable monotony enough to kill him. At least there was a thrill in fear. Dream possessed
quite an intriguing personality, he wanted to chat with him again, no matter where the conversation
went. There was just something about him that he wanted to know more about.
After a minute of hesitation, George sat down his fork and began to speak. "...May I be excused? I
want to spend a little more time in the garden today, if that's alright." His mother glanced up as she
plucked up her glassful of orange juice in the most detailed mug feasible. It felt as if she was
striving to prove her wealth to people who already knew she was well-off. "Why? You were just
out there yesterday, isn't it hot outside? All the insects out there don't bother you?"
George was quick to shake his head. "Not really, I tend to ignore them. May I? I swear I'll be back
early." He was very eager but he tried not to let it show in fear of being charged with even more
questions.
The queen considered the circumstances for a moment, leaving George in a state of crushing
anticipation. "I'd... rather you not," George instantly sank his shoulders in response, "I want you to
help me set up the tables in the ballroom today. Knowing you, you'll waste the entire day outside
and I'm not running out there to get you, nor am I going to send one of our lovely housemaids out
there in that heat. Just wait until after your party, it's only a few days, I'm sure you'll survive."
George frowned but remained civil and modestly accepted it. He traveled back upstairs, his heart a
bit dejected. He never really looked forward to anything or even asked for anything specifically,
and the one time he actually did, his mom shut him down without a worry. He genuinely wanted to
go anyway despite his mother's orders, but his only means of escape would be exiting through his
window. He would probably shatter his legs if he attempted that so he instead sat by his
windowsill and tried to brainstorm ideas.
The door to the court of the north wing was never guarded. There was no need for it to be
supervised, it didn't lead to anything other than the orchard. He could leave through that door and
just travel around the side to the garden path.
George smiled, a spring of excitement washing through his body as he bounced up to get dressed.
He was majorly stunned that he hadn't been criticized for wearing his sleepwear to breakfast.
George slid on one of his most comfortable ruffled, white button-up shirts and tucked it into a
simplistic pair of dark pants. It was pretty standard royal attire, but he did enjoy it.
---
Dream had been up and about since daybreak just roaming around, developing his next plans of
action. He had a basic idea of how he wanted to go about his tasks, but they positively needed
some fine-tuning. The night guards were lazing around by the main gates, waiting for eight o'clock
to hit so they could clock out on the dot. He had spent days memorizing their schedules beforehand
so he'd have a lesser chance of getting seized before initiating his plan. Dream knew every spot a
guard would be at any precise time.
He was remaining stagnant until he had George in his sight to do anything productive that day. He
was supposed to be obtaining his trust, after all. He couldn't do that by breaking in. Dream didn't
know exactly where George was, but he did have a vague idea.
The prince was frequently seen peering out his window, eyes fixed to either the range of
wildflowers that beckoned his presence or the blanket of stars that piqued his ever so restless
curiosity. Dream wondered how George could put every ounce of interest into something as simple
as a flower bud or ball of gas and never once grow bored, even for a moment. An unprecedented
desire for understanding and liberation.
As foreseen, he was sat wistfully upon his windowsill, examining the trees in the distance as best
he could from acres away, lost in thought as he determined the final points to his escape strategy.
Dream bounced up from his heels and waved his bandaged hands to try and get his attention.
George flinched, shifting back a little in surprise. He immediately slid open his window. "What the
hell are you doing here?"
Dream smiled under his childish mask and replied, "Oh, nothing. Just a bit jaded. Would you be
interested in joining me on a little walk?" The question opened too many doors for George to be
comfortable with; most worryingly the feasibility of being butchered in the woods that bordered
the meadow.
Raising an eyebrow, George asked, "To where? And for how long?" He was already planning on
leaving in hopes of locating the person standing underneath his window like Romeo Montague, but
this option came at the price of viable misfortunes.
Dream glanced down in thought, a few bunches of dirty blonde hair poking out from the top of his
mask and edge of his hood. It was nice to know he was a real person under it. "Not long. Just
wanna have a short chat with someone who would understand what I'm talking about. Just around
the garden."
"Understand what?" George asked, tilting his head a tad.
"Why don't you stop asking questions and just tag along?"
George was extremely confused, but more so curious than anything. He sighed, locking his
windowpane delicately, and unobtrusively rushed downstairs. He had no clue where his mother
was but the adrenaline was enough to blur it from his mind. A few minutes later he appeared next
to Dream in the yard below his bedroom window. There was about a half a foot height difference
between the two. The maids wouldn't be checking on George for another two hours, so he believed
he had more than enough time to spare.
Dream laughed at how nervous George was. "You're especially paranoid, huh? You're obviously
not a rule breaker." To others, the prince would seem perfectly fine; confident even. However,
Dream had become considerably skilled at analyzing people throughout the years. George was
putting on a front. He was faking his confidence in an endeavor to appear unfazed.
George's cheeks went a touch red. He had been called out. "I-I can be a rule breaker! I just kind of
follow rules because if I don't... then it doesn't end up well..." He sounded very defensive, mostly
because he wanted to seem fun and engaging to Dream, not just a withdrawn prince that did
anything and everything he was told. He wasn't making himself look good.
"Sure," Dream replied sneeringly, grasping George's arm and beginning to walk, "let's just go
before you embarrass yourself." George just went along with the striding but was still bewildered.
"Are we just going to the garden? We'll get our heads chopped off if we go any further."
"Executions like that aren't used anymore around here. I thought you of all people would know
that, being a prince and all. You'll see when we get there." Dream didn't cease his trekking, but he
had let go of his clutch on George, who turned his head in annoyance. "You know what, mask boy?
I don't think I like you very much."
"Mhmm," the aforementioned 'mask boy' hummed in response, "whatever you say, prince boy."
Chapter End Notes

Chapter Eight
Chapter Notes
the more intricate part of dream's plan was approaching quickly.
It was unsettlingly surprising to George that Dream knew his way around the grounds so well.
Seeing as George had never seen him prior to their recent meeting, it was understandable. The
prince, expectedly, already knew the grounds like the palm of his hand, but he followed Dream in
pursuit regardless. Watching as the masked figure took every turn he was supposed to in order to
get to the garden without George's aid was indescribably unnerving.
However, to George's surprise, Dream did instead lead him through the opposing exit of the east
wing courtyard, leading split through the middle of a castle corridor running the other way. Given,
the gate parallel to the one they were currently at was an easier escape to the garden. However,
that hall was almost always bustling. It led directly to the ballroom, the very place George's
birthday party was being held. Of course, it would be hard to sneak past with so many staff
members rushing in and out in a frenzy.
"Are you crazy? Someone is going to see us and we are dead!"
"We'll be perfectly fine. Come on." Dream snickered, ignoring the 'crazy' part altogether. He took
hold of George's wrist and started towards the gate. The nervous prince tried to hook his heels into
the stone pathway but failed at doing so, opting to just get hauled along by Dream.
Approaching the gate, Dream peered into the hall and turned towards George. "Just run. Don't stop
or you will be dead. We'll be fine if we hurry. Ready?"
"Not rea-" George got cut off as Dream slipped through the open gate and began to sprint. The
distance from one gate to the other wasn't much, but he wanted to cross as quickly as possible,
especially with George.
Before he could even register it, George was being yanked across the corridor by someone he
barely knew. The squeaking of their boots against the polished pearlescent floor was hardly
audible, deadened by the excitement that fueled them both, even if neither would admit to it. In
actuality, it was all over within three seconds, but as they were moving, it felt nauseatingly
sluggish. Like everything was melting into one another but blurred beyond recognition. George
could see several maids balancing empty platters and dragging lavish seats across the floor, but that
was all that time allowed him to perceive before the black gate pillars blocked his view and drew
him to a withdrawn place he hadn't been in a while.
The pair were now in the central courtyard; a court that was unlike the other four wing yards. This
one was straight in the midst of all four, claiming its title with ease. It was undoubtedly the most
stunning of the four, showing off its glittering pools and flowering vines with pride. The towering
walls of the castle that encircled the courtyard prevented any sun from beaming directly in the yard
no matter the time of day– with the exception of the very peak of the walls– which gave it an
ethereal ambiance. The air was warm, but a cooling, serene cerulean dimness enveloped all who
stepped in.
George was a tad bit perplexed as to why they were in the central courtyard since he always left
through the north wing to get to the garden. "What are we doing here? Did you finally get lost?"
George smirked, crossing his arms and putting on a triumphant smile, comparable to the one that
adorned the disguise of the one he was staring right at. Dream appeared to be looking around
vigilantly, nudging George back a few feet.
"No, just refreshing my mind. We're not going to the garden," Dream spoke flatly, crushing all
hope that George still clung to frantically.
The prince let himself fall back against the ivory white walls of the castle. "Why am I not
surprised?" He turned his head upwards, his eyes observing carefully as Dream shifted to make
sure no guards would be approaching anytime soon. The softened darkness of the courtyard
brought light to the brighter aspects of Dream. He placed his palm gently against an off-white
column tinted blue by the light as he examined the vicinity, his back turned to George in a way that
made it possible for the prince to admire him from afar.
As much as he hated to admit it, the masked boy was quite comely. Dream's tall and assured
stature matched his joking, somewhat cocky demeanor. George didn't entirely dislike it.
The moment was calm. A few fleeting seconds of absolute quietness with no fleeing or prowling
around. Just faint breathing and waiting in a place that nobody ever wanted to leave.
Dream was tasked with escaping the royal grounds without getting caught with George. A duty that
might appear impossible to some, but nothing more than a slight, excitable challenge for the
assassin. "Alright George, just follow me and perhaps you won't end up in a ditch." His remark
caused George's eyes to widen with shock.
"What if I don't want to follow you?"
A light giggle could be heard softly from Dream as he spun back to face George, his head tilted a
little bit. His hands were tucked nonchalantly in his pockets, the flour-white bandages stretching up
his forearms like a hug desperate to heal still visible thanks to his rolled-up sleeves. They told the
mysterious tales Dream never revealed himself. "I know you want to, don't even try that on me.
Let's get going before your family's stupid little guardsmen reach us on their route."
---
Once the prince and his captor successfully fled the courtyard with little to no obstacles, they
arrived at a gateway path. The towering posts presented an entranceway to a cobblestone trail that
winded its way around the borders of the castle, uniting all the wing courtyards. It would take them
directly out to the rear of the palace, but George still had no clue where he was being led. They
weren't traveling towards the forests that encompassed the flower garden which eased George's
concern a slight margin, but the itch for familiarity still pried at his consciousness.
The silence wasn't particularly uncomfortable, but it surely didn't feel right either. That was until
Dream chose to break it. Maybe it was for the comfort of himself, maybe it was for George, he
didn't truly know. "It's almost your birthday, isn't it?"
Polished boots were the only articles of interest in George's view. "Yeah. I'm guessing you can tell
by all the decorations and committed maids?" His arms swayed at his sides as he strolled side by
side with a person he understood he should be running from.
"It was kinda rhetorical, but yeah. You're the prince, of course I know when your birthday is. Also,
why the hell do you talk like that? Committed? Who uses that in everyday conversation?" Dream
grinned, turning the corner of the floral walls. George was the slightest bit offended.
"I was raised to talk eloquently and professionally. If you don't like it then I will take my leave
right back to my room," George scoffed, crossing his arms but not halting his movement.
Dream stopped in his tracks. "It's not that I don't like it, it's that you don't need to feel professional
around me. I couldn't care less about your level of eloquence," he shrugged his shoulders, "but if
you want to go back, go ahead, I won't stop you. Guess you just won't get your surprise." His tone
was laced with knowing sarcasm.
Just as Dream had expected, George furiously shook his head and apologized. "No, no, no, I would
still definitely like that surprise!"
"That's what I thought," Dream smiled through his mask, directing George through the exit and out
into a field comparable to the flower garden, just minus the flower aspect. A barren version of the
field George's cherished memories lay locked in golden petals and the field in which Dream's
haunting remembrances came to sink him in guilt.
"May I now ask what exactly this... surprise is?" The prince asked halfheartedly, almost as if he
was nervous to.
"The market. Reckoned you needed a day out and with your birthday coming up, thought it'd be
nice to get you a little something." The excitement that plastered George's face after Dream's
statement was simply unforgettable.
Chapter End Notes

Chapter Nine
Chapter Notes
the unoccupied area held no emotion comparable to its flowery twin.
Dream was somewhat worried a watchman would see him and the prince crossing the lengthy field
heading towards a line of dense hedges and trees at the far edge, but he'd never reveal it to George.
He wouldn't want to trouble him more than he probably already was, for several reasons. Reasons
that expanded far beyond just leaving the grounds without permission.
By this point, the prince had gotten the gist that they were going to be passing through the hedges.
Before Dream had confessed to their destination, George didn't know what laid beyond those
backwoods; he never sought to find out or ask, which was obscure due to his inquisitive nature. He
always wanted to know everything. Even the most simplistic of questions, like "Why are rocks
different colors?" or "What causes tree branches to grow in such a manner?"
Luckily, they had crossed the deserted yet not overgrown field without issue thanks to Dream's
intense studying of the guardsmen routes. It was hazardous to walk around so much in broad
daylight in castle property, but there was no way George would yet leave with him in the dead of
night to an undisclosed location.
Lush greenery reached high in front of Dream and George, extending their pleading leaves to the
shining sky. Dense brambles and abundant trees barred their way, but it was nothing but dodging a
few branches to Dream. The assassin had slithered through the thickets several times, to and from
the marketplace. This time was no different, he just had an accompaniment.
Dream turned his face towards George while checking that he had everything required with him.
"Ready? Just hang on to me, I'll lead the way and make sure you don't trip over your own feet."
George rolled his eyes yet nevertheless beamed sunnily. It was just like the romanticized tales of
two forbidden lovers that would escape every night to be with each other in the books he'd read
over and over. Except, this wasn't his destined lover. It was solely just someone that had shown up
at the right time to make his life more ever so slightly less dreadful. "Alright, let's go get lunch and
have you try normal food for the first time in your life," Dream said, grasping onto George's puffy
sleeve and drawing him into the plants.
The two nudged themselves through twiggy bushes at the far back of the grounds for what seemed
like hours despite only being the length of a simple song. George was truly so lonely in his forlorn
regal life that he was completely willing to leave the castle with somebody he had just recently met
in an instant. All plausibilities rushed through his mind, he'd never be able to prevent that, but
getting harmed in the end was the least of his worries. He didn't care and he didn't want to care.
After years of unbearable stillness and suffocating precepts he was required to follow every second
of his life, it didn't matter to him who or what his derivative of joy was. He was willing to do
anything or go anywhere to evade being constricted like a rodent to a serpent.
The hedges were abnormally thick amidst the intention of keeping out intruders to be more
"environmentally friendly," yet here they were, exiting through them. Dream elbowed aside stick
after stick, stalk after stalk, making sure George didn't get whacked in the face with a springy
branch or march into a thistle bush. The plants seemed never-ending, but it was strangely calming;
they had their own little world. A world nobody else would ever intrude upon unless they were
Dream and George.
Dream mistakenly let go of his grasp on a handful of branches, triggering them to shoot straight
towards George's face. "Drea-!" was all that George managed to shout before tumbling to the leafy
floor.
Dream contained his wild laughter while helping the prince back to his feet, George's hand against
his reddened cheek. The twigs weren't that painful to get nailed in the face with, it was just the
shock of the moment. "Are you good?"
Brushing himself off, George responded, "Yeah, good enough. If you pull that stunt again I'm
pushing you into a fucking thorn bush."
Dream giggled in acknowledgment, knowing fully that George wouldn't be able to shove him into a
thorn bush no matter how vigorously he tried. George wasn't the one with years worth of intensive
physical training.
---
After about three minutes of gradually maneuvering through the hedges, they emerged in front of a
high, very weathered black fence with dozens of flowering vines hugging its supports. It was
evident these gates hadn't seen use in decades. All they had to do was pass through the bars. It
wouldn't be hard, it was simple to just squeeze through the bars no matter your size. No wonder it
was no longer used.
At the sight of the overgrown gates, it had sincerely hit George that he had just snuck out and they
were too far for him to easily run back. He had left the grounds without authorization or
notification. His mother didn't even want him to go to the flower garden, let alone leave the castle
entirely; especially with someone like Dream.
Dream didn't think it'd be so easily accomplishable to get George to go with him. It showed him
how pitifully desperate George was.
The poor prince was getting progressively bothered by the second. "If my mother finds out, I might
actually die," George uttered, his voice somewhat unstable. His palms were getting sweaty and he
couldn't stand still. Dream could understand how George felt so he decided to sit and take a second
for the prince to calm down. It wouldn't do either of them any good to continue while George was
panicking.
"Hey, George. It's fine, you're okay. Just breathe," Dream spoke like honey, sitting George in the
grass against a fencepost and taking a place next to him. "If it helps you any, I'll tell you exactly
where we're going and what time we'll be back," Dream smiled, even though George couldn't tell
he was doing so. The anxious prince lowered his head, his eyes examining the twigs that littered
the ground like they were the most fascinating things he'd ever seen. Like if he stared long enough,
they'd catch fire and spark up the entire forest. Maybe then he wouldn't have to fret about going
back at all.
"I'm taking you to the market square, you already knew that, but we can go to any shop you want. I
doubt you've been to many so you can do a little exploring. We'll be back by two at the latest but
we can leave earlier if you feel uncomfortable. Deal?"
George's composure immediately relaxed. Maybe all he needed was a little reassurance after all.
"Why are you doing this?" He asked, his attention quickly shifting from the grass to Dream like a
kid to ice cream.
"It's almost your birthday and... I want to make a good impression. Since I'm a guard," he recoiled
at his silly little lie, "it won't seem suspicious that you're out. Just say you're going birthday
shopping or something." Dream suggested. Dream didn't expressly enjoy having to pay out of his
own wallet, but it was an effortless, tried and true method of gaining trust.
George turned to Dream and slumped further down the gate post. "You know, I'm well aware you
aren't actually a guard. There's no need to fake it, I know. It's kind of obvious. When you've grown
up your entire life around the guards, you kind of get to know what they're like, and you definitely
aren't guard-ish enough to pass."
"How rude," Dream joked, his tone apparent.
"And no, I don't care. I wouldn't care if you stabbed me in these woods right now, actually,"
Dream's heart dropped at the prince's sudden statement, "because I don't even want to go back in
general. I'd rather bleed out amongst living things that don't have the highest of expectations for me
rather than return to my 'perfect life.'"
High expectations were the bane of George's feeble existence. "What are you getting at?" Dream
questioned, sitting up straight next to a depressingly slouched George.
"Thanks. For, you know, giving me a reason to leave. I appreciate it."
"You could've easily left on your own."
George shook his head slightly. "I know, I know. It's always on my mind. Trust me, it is. I'm never
not thinking about getting out of that terrible place. But it's hard and I'm not strong enough."
It was understandable to Dream. He felt the same way about something he wished he had never
gotten involved in. However, he didn't want George to feel like he was if there was still time to turn
those stormy thoughts into clear skies. "George, you are strong. You put up with snobby assholes
every day of your life and still somehow turned out so curiously appealing. You're resilient, and
that's the best quality."
Nervous mystery still enveloped George's perception of Dream like an unopened letter with a black
wax seal. "Why are you saying all of this? If you're not a guard concerned with my protection, why
do you care so much?" His tone wasn't defensive or hostile, he was genuinely confused.
The smile of Dream's disguise aimed away from George to face the direction of the market.
"Because I lost someone like you, and," his voice trailed off for a moment as he recalled past
memories, "I don't want it to happen again."
Quietness ensued. Whether it was comfortable or not was disputable.
Chapter End Notes

Chapter 10
Chapter Notes
there was only a sheer layer of foliage between the desolate prince and an abundance of people
who wanted what he had.
George sometimes wished the townspeople that fantasized about living a life such as his would
actually get the chance to endure it. He wanted to switch with them. He'd get what he desired and
they would learn that what sparkles like a delicate jewel is nothing but stringent commands and
dizzying solitude with nobody but your walls and the stars to talk to.
His concern shifted from fear of not wanting to return at all to being recognized. "What happens if
someone notices me? My parents are sure to find out, there's no possible way they wouldn't,"
George pouted, second-guessing their little escapade.
"No worries, I always come prepared," Dream drew a familiar object out from a pack fastened to
his belt, "I doubt anyone would think twice about it, but I understand your worry." He handed
George a mask.
It looked just like his, except this one was frowning. George wondered why it was so blue. Like
him.
As George examined the pessimistic mask, a heavy piece of fabric fell upon his shoulders. At first,
startled distress sparked in his chest, but he quickly understood it was just a cloak. Dream fastened
the clip and stood back to look at George. "Normally I'd have an extra cloak but I don't have
everything I usually do with me right now. Too much to carry, y'know?"
George awkwardly nodded.
"Alright, now put on the mask and let's get going!" Even though his face was covered, George
could tell he was smiling.
Dream stood back and waited for George to step out into the market first. The prince took a deep
breath and did just that.
---
The world instantly seemed more alive. Colors were more vivid, noises meshed together like
gauze, the bustling square felt welcoming. George felt more at ease knowing he was disguised and
free to do as he pleased. Dozens of travelers passed through the townsquare every month, so seeing
individuals dressed like the prince and the assassin wasn't too unusual.
He didn't know what to do first. George didn't exactly know where things were; he had only ever
been to the bakery with his father. He gazed up to Dream, his cynical smile gawking right back at
George's dismal frown. "Well?" Dream asked, looking back at the shop signs. "You can read,
right?" he joked, George bleakly rolling his eyes under the mask and starting to wander, evading
gatherings of people crowded around street performers or road merchants.
Eventually, they came upon a shop that held one of George's favorite things. A flower shop. A
shop that marketed items to the public that George always had access to. Items that George felt an
attachment like no other to. It was anticipated as he eagerly rushed in through the door, a tiny bell
signaling his presence.
However, the flowers weren't what immediately caught George's attention.
It was the cashier.
He instantly raced over from behind the counter, seemingly delighted to see a potential customer.
Cordiality resonated from him, his radiant smile beaming. He had pointed teeth, but it was evident
he'd never use them.
Dream read "Fundy" on the small white nametag that was pinned to his work uniform. He had
pointed reddish ears and a tail. It wasn't often anymore you'd come across someone that wasn't
entirely human. Dream only knew one person like him, and he never wanted to be around them.
Negative association polluted his and Fundy's first interaction.
"My name is Fundy, it's a pleasure to meet you! Have you come for anything specific?" His tail
darted playfully behind him as he held out his hand.
George, without any hesitation, took the handshake and turned his head to glance around the store.
Perhaps it was because he couldn't look Fundy in the eye. "Uh, hi! Do you happen to have any
flame lilies? I read about them once but I've never been able to see one in person," he asked
hopefully. Dream grimaced at the name. He hated that anything and everything that had to do with
fire had an effect on him. It wasn't George's fault, though, he didn't know.
Pondering for a moment, Fundy flicked an ear in thought and headed to the back of the store.
While he was absent, George bounced around in excitement. "Did you see how neat he was?
Imagine having a job dedicated just to flowers!" George buzzed.
Jealously was an emotion that wasn't easily admitted to. Nevertheless, it was without a doubt
recognizable. Envy felt like a sinister shadow, swallowing all other feelings and making you think
like a terrible, no-good person.
Dream resented this feeling. He never wanted to feel it ever again, but what would a life be without
jealousy? Typically, he'd feel envy towards someone and work to be like them so he could achieve
what they had, but this time was different. He didn't know why he felt envious. Pushing it to the
dark depths of his mind was his solution.
"Yeah, he's pretty... cool," Dream finally responded right as Fundy appeared again, a clay pot in his
arms. A bright red and yellow blossom bobbed along with his steps, lighting George's eyes up just
as the name suggested. Dream had a suspicion it wasn't just the flower that made George so
bubbly.
---
George ended up purchasing dozens of items from that shop five separate times within two hours
just so he could talk to Fundy at the register. He bought flowers, seed packets, handbooks, among
other botanical objects. It was nice to have a conversation with someone that had a huge shared
interest.
Meanwhile, Dream ended up waiting patiently outside of the store every time after the second
entry. Not because he didn't want to, but because he didn't exactly want to speak to Fundy. There
were several contributors, most of which he couldn't even figure out himself. He felt guilty for
inherently disliking Fundy for seemingly no reason.
After Dream had persuaded George to leave the shop for the final time, they decided to get lunch.
They had been walking for a while now and Dream hadn't had a proper meal in ages. Living off
bread crumbs wasn't desirable. Plus, he promised he'd get George his first-ever "normal" food.
"Dream?" George inquired quietly, almost hesitantly.
"Hm?" the smiley-masked boy hummed in response.
"Can I maybe... I don't know. Can I go ask Fundy if he would like to join us for lunch? I want to
ask him how to propagate succulents since I didn't have a chance to while we were talking!" The
two had talked for over two hours, Dream found it strange they hadn't yet reached that topic. How
long could two people talk about plants for?
Dream didn't like the idea. He wanted to say no and get to know George without Fundy's presence.
When he inevitably had to kill George, Fundy would give identifiers to the policemen. His height,
mask, clothes. Disguise changes weren't practical. It crossed his mind again that he was here to kill
George. To assassinate him; to deprive him of life that could potentially get so much better.
To Dream, the world wasn't appealing. It was morose, it was rainy, it was brutal, unfair, and
aching. However, George was confined to a life of dullness yet still found beauty in the small
things. He was comforted by a bunch of weeds, and Dream found that interesting.
He didn't want to put an end to that innocent curiosity. Dream so easily lured George into a false
sense of security and feasible friendship, the thought of double-crossing him like he once did by
ending his love for the world would result in death for more than just one person.
He wanted George to just forget about Fundy. Why was he so significant to him? He was only a
village cashier for a flower shop nobody ever went to, why did it matter? He wanted him to be
pleased, though. Being able to recognize excitement without even seeing his face was something
that brought Dream joy, and George being content surely outweighed the bad. "Sure," his response
was emotionless and quiet but a yes was a yes to George.
Dream pretended not to mind. Acting had started to come naturally to him after a while. He had to
get a hold of himself. Before Fundy came into the equation, he was perfectly fine. He didn't know
what happened. Dream took a deep breath through his mask and told himself that once they got
back to the castle, he'd be out of both his and George's mind and the prince would fixate himself on
something new.
For now, he just had to endure puppy love at lunch.
---
Dream was sitting alone at a café table, his head resting against his bandaged arms as he waited for
the dreaded moment that George came around the corner with cashier flower boy.
He fidgeted with a little twig he found on the wooden table. It reminded him of the ones George
wouldn't look away from at the gate. To Dream, it was just a stick. It existed and that was all. He
tried to look at it from George's viewpoint. He'd probably first recall that it came from a tree, and
wonder what specific tree it came from. George would wonder how old that tree was and how
much oxygen it has produced in its life. And then he'd wonder if he ever breathed that oxygen.
He'd then thank that tree, no doubt.
George was a rare one.
As soon as Dream heard George's easily recognizable giggle, he looked up. There he was, right
next to Fundy as they approached the table.
"So what are we having?" Fundy asked, his voice filled with thankfulness. It was nice for a
moment until Dream realized he was still holding the twig and remembered George was currently
infatuated with the flower shop cashier.
The still-disguised prince smiled, his voice overflowing with happiness. He finally got to spend
time outside of the castle and talk to someone who enjoyed nature just as much as he did. It was
sweet to see him so excited. However, there was one issue. "Are you going to take your masks
off?" the fox boy asked.
George looked at Dream.
"I'm afraid not. We're travelers; we're not from here and can't show our faces around people that are
not from our kingdom. Apologies for the inconvenience, but we're still able to eat. It's just a little
more difficult." The way Dream could so effortlessly conjure up an excuse amazed George.
Luckily, Fundy was understanding.
The three shared a meal together, George never once hesitating to voice his opinions on the new
food. It amused both Fundy and Dream.
Chapter End Notes

Chapter Eleven
Chapter Notes
going back to the castle was not only melancholic and heart-heavy for george, but it was also
guiltily bothering for dream.
George would not cease to continue talking about Fundy. Dream was contemplating attempting to
switch the subject, but he knew all conversation would lead right back to Fundy like a deer to a
river. He was striving to convince himself that it was just irritating in general, not because he
wished he was the person George wouldn't stop gushing over. It wasn't because he liked him, but
because he wanted to be liked by George. It would make his job endlessly easier, after all.
"Wasn't he just marvelous? He was so interesting, right? We were talking about plant varieties and
he has bonsai trees! Have you ever seen a bonsai tree? Fundy said he really wants to get lotuses in
the shop but since they're so difficult and risky to transplant, he doesn't know if it'd be a good idea.
If he ever does, I'm getting one right away. I've always wanted to pair one with the lilypads in the
fountains by the willow trees. He also plays the piano! I remember taking mandatory piano lessons
when I was younger, but it never really came easily to me. Isn't he just excellent? He's so fascinat-"
At this point, Dream was tuning him out. It was going smoothly until one portion of the prince's
blabbering stuck out to him like he just stepped into a bear trap made of fiery hot metal.
"Maybe I could invite him to a dance at my birthday party when it arrives. It's the day after
tomorrow, surely you could bring me back to ask if he'll be in attendance before then?"
That struck like a bullet in Dream's heart and he didn't even know why, nor did he want to know
why. In the unaccessible ends of his mind, he knew enough. He knew exactly why. But his heart
and brain were at war.
He had to be respectful, though. After all, it wasn't his place to decide who George wanted to spend
time with, as much as he wished it was himself. If he wanted Fundy, he couldn't stop him, even if
he had only known him for a few fleeting hours; but then again, Dream had only known George for
a short while as well.
"That's cool," was all Dream could manage to say.

---
Once they crept back through the hedges into the grounds once more, George instantly felt a
heaviness overcome him. A sinking trepidation tugging him by the ankles like an anchor made of
lead, strung out and winded around every bone in his body.
They made it roughly midway across the meadow when Dream stopped. He hesitated to speak, but
did nonetheless. "I... gotta go. Can't really go back with you."
In turn, like the anchor somehow grew more burdensome, George slumped his shoulders. He knew
it was coming, but he still wasn't ready. "I know. I had a lot of fun, thank you," he softly laughed,
trying his utmost to appear content. He was appreciative of the outing, but it admittedly only
provided to him momentary bliss. He wanted to leave his royal life behind more than anything
now.
"It's no problem. We should go again sometime," Dream half-waved goodbye after taking the cloak
and mask from George, beginning to walk in the other direction, even if he really didn't want to. He
didn't know when the next time he'd see George would be, but he wanted it to be soon. Before he
could completely process it, George's arms were wrapped around him, embracing him in an
ambivalent hug.
It felt cozy. George wasn't sensational at displaying emotion through words, so he opted for an
alternative and Dream didn't seem to mind. He didn't hug back, he just let George cling to him for a
moment, but it was obvious he wasn't annoyed with it. No words were exchanged, just mute
yearning.
After some time, George let go and allowed Dream to finally depart.
George remained standing wistfully in place for some time, watching as Dream slipped into the
brush again, off to do whatever it was he did. The prince felt conflicted. For quite a surplus of
reasons, as well. He didn't know who Dream was. He didn't know anything about Dream. Why
was he here?
However, it was an intriguing uneasiness that surged through his chest. Dream, if he was out to get
George, undoubtedly would've killed him already given the fact he was handed so many
opportunities, right? George didn't know what to believe. He didn't know how he felt about it, or
how he wanted to feel about it. All he knew is that Dream made him feel alive and he craved
another chance to feel free once more.
---
The following afternoon, the castle was buzzing with activity. Maids mopping the limestone floors
until they were sparkling white, silky pennants being strung from wall to wall, the candles in the
great chandeliers being lit. The next evening would be George's long-awaited birthday ball, and he
had finally found out why there were going to be so many people.
"But, why!? I didn't agree to this, I thought I could wait until I was older? There's no point in it
right now-" George was sharply cut off by his mother's vicious utterance.
"You are going to listen to me and you are going to be obedient. Understood, young man?" He
wanted to retort that he was no longer a young man, but there was no importance to it anymore.
"You are getting betrothed whether you like it or not. You're our only heir, we must get you
married and settled now in case anything ever happens. You wouldn't want to ruin an entire
kingdom, now would you?" Emotional manipulation was a strong suit of hers. It may have been
unintentional, but George was no stranger to it.
"Just one more year, you can bear one more, right? You sprung this on me, it's not fair to me at
all!"
"I'm not altering my decision. You will respect it."
Her statement made him furious. It was as if she was forcing him into a narrative he didn't want to
be in at all. George stormed from her and into the nearest empty corridor.
Just the idea of getting married to someone he didn't even know the favorite color of was frightful
to him. To add to that, he knew for sure that he didn't even like girls. However, if he ever
mentioned that to his mother or father, he was sure to be overlooked. They wouldn't attempt to
disown him or dishonor him, he was much too valuable to them to go to those extents. They'd
simply ignore he ever said anything and continue to disregard it if he ever brought it up again.
He wanted more than anything in the universe to go to the flower garden, but unlike Dream, he had
no clue what the guard schedules were like. If he was caught without permission to exit, he'd be
rigorously penalized. George would give up anything he had to be amongst the forgiving petals. He
didn't have much to give, though.
The lengthy corridor eventually led to the very ballroom he ached to escape from. In less than a
day, he'd be stood upon dozens of wealthy men and women, a prosperous young dame perched
right beside him with her arm wrapped around his. It made him tremble in repugnance just thinking
about it.
He wondered if Dream would be in attendance.
Chapter End Notes

Chapter Twelve
Chapter Notes
dream was beginning to recognize that his feelings towards george felt eerily similar to those he
felt towards his now blazed-up friend.
He really didn't want to leave George in the meadow. He'd do anything to go back, away from the
flower field that the prince cherished so dearly but brought Dream so much misery. However, he
couldn't meet with him that day. It was the last day before the ball, final touch-ups were being done
everywhere that was visible. George's family never went small with parties.
It was around sundown. Dream was composedly strolling through an empty cornfield just to the
right of the southern grounds as the sky turned a milky pink and blue. He was trying to formulate
ways to get George out again. Just for one more night. He wanted to talk with him.
The fact that guards were out and about everywhere wasn't what was worrying Dream the most at
that moment. It was his own emotions. His compassion towards George was identical to the
friendship that ended in literal flames.
His name was Sapnap. Prince Sapnap of a kingdom he couldn't recall the name of. His attempt at
giving himself amnesia worked in a way he didn't want it to. He was also the reason how Dream
got his nickname. His actual name was Clay, system name Agent #03, but he has referred to
himself as Dream ever since Sapnap gave him the nickname. It was more than important to him.
In Dream's agency, agents were numbered, not named. If you referred to yourself by your name,
you were ignored. You were only but a number to them. He happened to be number three. He
never got to meet Agent #01 before his untimely death during a mission, but Agent #02 was
someone he had grown close to for a short time. Emphasis on short; they couldn't agree to disagree
and it ended in death for one side of the party.
There were also agents #04 and #05. Dream had no chance to form any opinions on them because
he was sent on George's expulsion crusade before he could get the proper chance to meet them. All
he knew is that they were suck-ups to the industry leader and that one of them was a female;
something that was new to the agency.
His administrator mentioned something about looking into bringing in a sixth agent and that he had
his eyes on someone, but Dream had no clue who it could possibly be. New agents were never
someone he was previously acquainted with.
The moment Dream realized he didn't have the guts to kill Sapnap felt just like the moment Dream
was wandering through the cornfield, heart aching at the thought of George dying right in front of
him. He could remember this feeling when he wished he could spend more time with his target
even if he didn't have to. He couldn't bear to think of Sapnap's body being located, littered in burns
from the fire he lit, leaving him unrecognizably charred and stiff. He was stuck in another loop.
Dream's designated assassination method for George was drowning. He started growing uneasy
when he envisioned having to shoulder George underwater as he twisted around, trying every
possible thing he could to get a gasp of oxygen while quickly losing consciousness, his vision
fading into blurry darkness. His lungs would feel like they were engulfed in barbed flames as he
would take his final waterlogged breath, liquid flooding his body, all while wondering what he did
to Dream to deserve this. Dream knew how it would play out, he's done it multiple times before.
He imagined how George would feel or what he would think of while being suffocated by his only
friend. Betrayal, horror, panic. Dream already knew enough about his personality to presume that
George would entirely blame himself. He'd think he did something wrong, something horrid
enough to be punished by death. That stabbed at Dream's heart like a rusted dagger to soft wool.
He didn't want George to think it was his fault he was being executed.
"No... No, no, no. Please," Dream whimpered, dropping down to his knees in the cornfield, brain
full of distress and violence. "I can't do this again. I can't fucking do this. I'm not going to put
anyone through that again, nor am I going to put myself through that again," he choked on his
tears, "but they'll just kill us anyway! What's the fucking point!?"
Dream felt as if he was going crazy. He was at war with himself, and his indecisiveness was
crumbling into delusion.
He wanted to go back to George and protect him but he really didn't have a choice. If he renounced
his assignment, they'd simply send out a different agent. #03 would be deemed inadequate and
eradicated for hesitation on a second interval. If he ran away with George to a faraway kingdom,
they'd send teams out searching for them until they were either found lifeless or alive. Teams from
both sides; George's frantic kingdom and Dream's relentless assassination agency. They'd never be
able to live in tranquillity. Always on the run in fear of their lives.
Dream got himself dug into inescapably rooted trouble by joining the company. Truth be told, it
wasn't wholly his fault, but there was no getting out of it now. His life was bound to the agency. If
his ties were cut, so were the strings of his life.
He was going to make a highly hazardous decision. He feared it was too selfish. But George wasn't
aware of how serious the case was. He didn't even know why Dream showed up in the first place.
If they both wanted to keep living, he was going to have to take the risk.
Chapter End Notes

Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Notes
dream was aware that the only way he could get george out of the castle was by taking him out
himself; he had a plan to do just that.
The morning of Prince George's birthday was foggy and calmingly misty. The weather wasn't of
importance, the banquet was being held indoors. Nonetheless, Dream didn't hesitate to pay
appreciative mind to the day. It was soothing, and he positively needed a calm in the storm he was
about to conjure up.
He hadn't been formally invited — he hadn't yet gotten around to that part despite it being
considerably crucial — but he was sure George wouldn't mind the visit. If anything, he would
presumably be delighted at the sight of Dream. They felt mutually content around each other.
Being around George was like lying under a huge tree, observing the stars. It felt peaceful. The
prince's company was an escape from his hostile "home" environment.
Conservatively outfitted women in hoopskirts and petticoats paired with men in cream-colored
suits and orange boutonnières stood in front of the gates to the castle, waiting patiently for the
festivities to start so they could seize a trade deal with the king rather than wish his son a happy
birthday.
They spoke quietly amongst themselves, adjusting their outfits and checking their overly elegant
watches. Dream was going to fit right in. Before the shops closed the previous night, he had
purchased clothes with his procedure allowance. His agency provided him with a certain sum of
money to assist with operations, and he had decided to use quite a bit of it on an impressive outfit.
For an unexplainable reason, he wanted to look nice for George.
It fit the dress code to a tee. Sneaking around the castle had its perks; he had learned of the dress
code before he had even met George.
Dream wore a clean white button-up messily tucked into beige pinstripe pants, burnt orange dress
shoes, and a tie of the same shade. It was expensive, but it undoubtedly made him feel confident.
Even if he easily came off as confident regularly, it wasn't always genuine.
His face was still decorated with his smiling mask, but this time it wasn't an issue. George's
birthday party was a ballroom masquerade. Masks were welcomed and appreciated. Of course,
most would wear masks adorned with feathers or rhinestones, but a mask was a mask.
Before he knew it, the gates slowly opened, and his plan was put into action.
---
George stepped nervously into the ballroom, his sophisticated attire melting in faultlessly with the
crowd, just as he had planned. He didn't want to stick out, especially since it was his birthday and
people would be paying slightly more attention to him than normal anyway. He wore a cream-
colored dress shirt tucked into slender dusky coffee-colored pants and a formal vest, all paired with
a burnt orange tie that was perfectly fixed around his neck. He looked very put together and
precise.
His choice of masquerade mask was an elegant, angelical half-face piece that still revealed his
eyes. It had an incredibly detailed orange marble floral print and it made his appearance all the
more admirable.
George's stomach turned when he realized he had invited neither Dream nor Fundy to the party. He
was going to be completely alone on his birthday yet again. He was used to it, though. As used as
one could get to desolate loneliness. Within an hour, he knew he'd end up in a darkened bathroom
or closet to escape the noise.
The queen had hired the most renowned string players available to perform at the reception along
with the castle's frequented pianist. The air swirled with refined piano notes and string vibrato that
would melt any orchestra enthusiast's heart.
The prince strolled around mindlessly for some time, awkwardly adjusting his tie and vest,
searching for absolutely anything to take his mind off the uncomfort that his birthday perpetually
brought. However, he was given something to take his mind off his pain. His honey eyes settled
upon a familiar joyful mask. Dream.
He had never felt more relieved than at that moment.
Dream was relaxed nonchalantly against an ivory pillar, wordlessly examining the room for the
one and only prince. Once he came into view, it was like nobody else was in the enormous
ballroom. Only him and the one he wished he didn't feel so connected to. George's hair was so
neatly swept to the side, his mask enhancing all of his visible features. Dream couldn't take his
eyes off the boy as he approached.
"Dream," George smiled, his hands agilely behind his back.
"George," Dream replied, admiring George's elaborate attire.
"I didn't know you were coming. How did you get in?" George asked, surprised that his friend was
so dressed up and even more surprised that he had successfully entered.
Dream lowered his shoulders and giggled a little bit. "They let anyone in who looks the part. Spent
a shit ton on this, how do I look?" His nature was boldly sly, it was evident he knew he looked
grand.
"I've never seen all of your hair because of your dumb cloak, it's such a pretty color!" George
beamed, leaning to the side and praising Dream's golden brown hair. It was messy, but he
somehow pulled it off regardless of the formality of his outfit.
Dream jokingly scoffed. " Dumb? You're the dumb one. Happy birthday, asshole," he laughed,
playfully elbowing George and beginning to walk to the center of the ballroom, the prince right
behind him.
"Thanks. You're the first one besides the maids that have told me that. Really, I appreciate it," he
answered. It baffled Dream that George was so grateful for such a trivial gesture.
Once the two reached the spot Dream had his eyes on, the masked boy spun to face George, moved
one hand behind his waist, bowed a tad, and held his other hand out. "May I have this dance, good
sir?"
It was an unexpected advance, but George was not at all displeased. "Look who's the fancy talker
now," he played, scrunching up his nose and taking Dream's hand. They fit perfectly together, like
puzzle pieces; he had found the piece he lacked.
"I don't know how to dance by the way," Dream snickered, allowing George to take leadership with
his concise steps.
In turn, George's smile brightened. "Of course you don't. Just follow my lead," he replied, directing
Dream through the waltz.
Traditionally, the individuals dancing the waltz were supposed to look away in the same direction,
but the prince and his newfound dearest friend couldn't take their eyes off each other. George felt
an emotion he had never felt before. One he never believed he would ever feel.
It was like how protagonists were supposed to feel. That excitement when they meet the one
they're assuredly destined to be with. The one that changes their entire path. It was a fuzzy
sensation that made his steps shaky and his heart race. His cheeks were dusted rosy and his mask
was failing at hiding it.
Something about being around Dream made George feel safe. The nights he spent alone got more
and more unbearable. Ever since he met Dream, he felt some way he couldn't yet describe. George
felt dead without him. His soul decayed in his room and his mind eroded. Dream was the water that
his withering soul so desperately needed.
Dream brought him the same feeling as flowers did.
The grasp on George's hand lightly tightened, bringing him back to reality. For once, George felt
genuinely comfortable.
"You look nice, George."
His words were honest.
The prince's mouth upturned into a content smile, resting his head gently upon Dream's chest as
they danced. Dream had finally gotten the hang of it.
Neither of them knew exactly how they felt about each other. They hadn't known one another long
enough to confirm. All Dream knew was that he couldn't lose George this time. He just couldn't.
Not after Sapnap.
Dream wanted to be angry at himself for the flutter in his chest, but he couldn't bring himself to be.
He wasn't some tough, scary assassin like he was expected to be and tried so hard to live up to. He
loved people and wanted to be loved back. Not have to shoot an arrow into their chest, char them,
or hang them from a tree.
"Hey George, can I show you something?"
Chapter End Notes

Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Notes
nighttime was hastily nearing, but the party didn't cease; neither did the prince and his lovestruck
assassin, either.
The two had narrowly escaped the noisy and buzzing masquerade ball and into the central
courtyard. It looked the most impressive at night, but George only ever got to experience it on
birthdays where he could easily leave without being regarded.
The darkness clung stagnantly to the walls, but the succinct sparkles of light from the moonlit
fishponds and tiny fireflies that inhabited the court were more than enough amenities to ward off
the fear of not knowing what was in the dark. "I take it you brought me here... for a reason, right?"
George pondered aloud, taking in the virtue of the courtyard. All at once, while following George's
eyes, Dream finally understood to a higher degree what the prince found so picturesque about
nature.
"I suppose so. I felt as if I've become close enough to you to show you something I'm very
sensitive about. It's unfair to you to be kept behind a closed door that I refuse to open," Dream
answered with contentment, sitting at the edge of the fishpond and peering down at his rippled
reflection, George soon appearing next to him with an inquisitive expression.
He took a long sigh, the clear air of the courtyard flushing out his apprehensive tone with an
assured one. "I'm certain you wanna know what's under this mask, huh?"
George didn't know what exactly he was anticipating, but it definitely wasn't about Dream's
trademark mask. He had only ever known Dream to be the boy with the mask that mystified him so
greatly. Of course, George had wondered relentlessly what the face that owned such a flawless
voice looked like. But he had been taught to be courteous and to never push anything. George
didn't want to make Dream uncomfortable by asking, however, this time, he was asking.
"I mean, of course I wonder what you look like. Though sometimes I'm not sure I want to know,"
George said softly, sitting curled up next to his friend by the pond, both sets of eyes observing the
reflections that taunted them so immensely.
"Why wouldn't you want to know? That was an answer I didn't expect," Dream turned his head
towards George, his arms behind him, propping his body up. "I'm not scary, I promise!" Dream
laughed, his hand moving up to his masked face like he was hiding his smile, even though his real
one wasn't visible.
The prince shrugged, a meager smile on his face. "I guess the mystery of it is kind of fun.
Curiosity is hell, but I put up with it for you. If you want to show me, go ahead, I don't mind either
way."
The thumps of Dream's heart grew stronger by the minute. "Alright, alright. But first, what do you
think I look like?"
Being put on the spot was typically bothersome to George, but he somehow didn't mind it this time.
"Hmm," he hummed, "let me think for a second. I know you have pretty tan but peachy skin and
dirty blonde hair, that's a fact," George reached a hand up and ruffled Dream's already-messy hair,
leaving them both giggling like children. "Blue eyes?"
A shake of Dream's head served as an answer.
"Brown?"
"Nope."
"Hazel!"
"Still wrong, buddy."
George leaned back against the grass, his arms behind his head. "There aren't that many possible
eye colors, how have I not guessed it already?" Then it struck him. "Green! Like your cloak!"
"Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner," Dream smirked, laying back next to George. "Took you
long enough." A playful shove was answer enough from George.
"What next?"
"Hmm. Facial features."
At first, George couldn't think of any, but it soon came to him like second nature. "Oh my
goodness, do you have freckles!?"
The sudden excitement exuding from the smaller took Dream by surprise. "Yeah... why are you so
excited about that?"
"I love freckles so much! I wish I had more, but mine only come out a little bit in early summer. I
admire them so much, my old nanny used to call them starkisses. I'd pretend they were
constellations and we'd get in trouble for tracing lines on my face with paint pens," George tittered,
looking back on heartbreakingly bittersweet memories.
Dream had never looked at it that way. He only ever saw them as dots of worthless pigmentation.
"That's super adorable that you guys did that," he responded, the smile in his voice unmistakable. It
was like he just couldn't stop smiling around George. "Next time you, me, and a paint pen are in
the same room, promise to draw constellations on my face?"
"Pinkie promise."
---
Half an hour had swept off the clock before Dream realized he had never done what he brought
George to see.
"Okay, okay, we've had our fun. Are you ready to see me? The real Dream?"
"I think so. I'm excited to stare in awe," he said confidently, earning a laugh from Dream.
"Alright, but there's somethin' you gotta know first, okay?" Dream's voice grew softer.
The sudden change in tone sparked curiosity in George. "Okay, what is it?"
"Two things, actually. Maybe three, we'll see. You deserve to know," he loosened his stature. "I
have a huge scar on my eye. Happened a few years ago when I was younger. Got mixed in with the
wrong crowd, still haven't really escaped it," his statement made George grow even more eager for
knowledge, "and it isn't pretty. You don't have to pity me or console me, it's been years. Secondly,
I think it's kind of... obvious... that my name isn't, y'know, Dream."
"Go on," George tilted his head slightly.
"It's Clay. An old friend nicknamed me Dream. I made a huge fucking mistake and lost him
forever. Can't even talk to him anymore to tell him how damn sorry I am. It just kind of stuck and
means a lot to me, so yeah. You can keep calling me Dream if Clay feels weird, I don't mind," he
looked down at the illuminated grass, "I just thought you deserved to know."
The prince inched closer to Dream in an attempt to soothe him. "Hey, it's okay, I understand.
Mistakes happen. I lost a friend too, I know how it feels. And I don't care at all about the way you
look. Your scars mean absolutely no harm to me and I... adore you just the way you are," he
stammered, "a-as a friend, of course!"
The two looked away from each other with reddened faces before Dream carried on with his
reveal. "Thank you, George. You have no clue how much that means to me. Not many are like
you. In my life, at least."
His bandaged hand delicately unfastened his mask and let it drop with a faint thud to the dewy
grass. His shaggy golden hair covered his eyes at first, but his fingers were quick to brush it away.
George was in fact in awe, to say the least. Dream's heart was racing with anxiety, embarrassment,
and perhaps a touch of excitement.
His eyes were an emerald green, glistening radiantly like the water that shone in front of them. A
long, serrated scar proved his courageousness on his left eye, and his freckles were perfect for
drawing constellations on.
Something about it felt almost sinful. It was immensely surreal, and George felt as if he had just
come into possession of crucially dangerous information, even though his friend had only shown
his true face to him. Somehow, Dream almost looked exactly like George had pictured him in the
previous moments before he had removed his mask.
The moment in between was one Dream wouldn't ever forget. George hugged him, and he felt truly
okay for the first time since Sapnap's death. He had experienced dozens of moments of happiness,
that is true, but he had never felt truly safe since his days with Sapnap spent in the libraries
reenacting scenes from Shakespeare's plays. With George, he finally felt okay again.
Chapter End Notes

Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Notes
after dream's anticipated reveal, george's mind teemed with unanswered questions.
Most potent of all, how did he get that scar? George was too nervous to ask, but curiosity wouldn't
neglect his mind, even for a moment. It could be anything. However, Dream had specified it was
because he got in with the "wrong crowd."
"So... mind telling me how exactly you got it? The scar?" George questioned, quick to realize his
tone was too demanding, "but you don't have to if you don't want to! Don't worry, I won't push it,
you don't even have to ever tell me at all-"
"Hey, hey, George. I'll tell you, it's fine," Dream giggled at George's sudden panic. "But if I do,
there's a lot of other doors it'll open up, too. I'd rather explain it to you all at once rather than little
by little. Is that okay?"
George eagerly nodded, hoping he'd learn why Dream was even there in the first place. He
obviously had a reason, and he felt bad for still doubting in a sense that he had malicious
intentions.
The now unmasked boy double-checked the area with a short glance to make sure there were no
eavesdroppers. "Can we do it somewhere else, though?"
George had to keep reminding himself not to push questions. He thought for a moment and stood
up, brushing small pebbles from his shoes and grass from his pants. "We can go to my room! If I'm
correct, you haven't seen it yet, have you?" Showing his room to people was an uncommon feat
that excited him beyond belief. When he was younger, an old friend and his nanny helped him
decorate it with sticky stars, planets, and rocket ships. He had since lost both that friend and nanny
and never took the decorations down. He couldn't bring himself to, no matter how childish they
were.
"No, I don't think I have. And I promise I'm not lying about that either," he laughed to ease any
tautness in the air, "I swear with my entire heart. I may have been skulking around your castle, but
I'm not some creep."
George enthusiastically bounced to pull Dream up from the gravel. "Okay, let's just be mindful
around the corner. Wanderers looking for bathrooms always saunter around the stairs at parties."
" Saunter? Your words are like that of a poet's, George," he meant it to come off as taunting and
lighthearted teasing, but the prince's face lit up at the comment. He didn't have the heart to tell him
he was just playing with him.
Precisely, the two passed inaudibly through the gigantic hallways, making sure to pay
consideration to their surroundings. When one was trying to stay as silent as possible, every minor
movement seemed to echo like a fallen vase.
The atmosphere of the castle versus the courtyard was dramatically distinctive.
---
"Here we are, my oh so humble and beloved abode," George strained the words to ensure Dream
could pick up on the fact that he was being remarkably sarcastic. His room provided him with very
contradictory sentiments. On one hand, it was comforting. George would sleep his days away,
nestled up in blankets that shielded him from the world. On the other, it was like downing a
cyanide cocktail. Painful and panic-inducing.
His door was much taller than he was and it was embellished with diminutive engravings. It looked
like an ordinary castle door until George turned the silver handle and revealed a room that should
belong to a galaxy-obsessed child. The walls were dull blue and had dozens of glowy, adhesive
golden stars stuck to them. His floor was comprised of glossy, sable wood, but a large, shaggy rug
warmed the boards. Paper mache planets were strung from his ornate ceiling lights and baldachin
bed. The only light brightening the room was from that of the silvery moon that was directly in line
with his two sets of tremendous windows.
It was beautiful to anyone other than George.
The melancholic boy brought Dream inside and promptly shoved the door shut with a creak. "The
housemaids won't check on me until tomorrow morning, we're good for now."
Dream casually sat on the corner of George's sumptuous bed, looking around the room in awe,
mask in hand. He set it down delicately beside him and laughed tenderly. "You really like stars,
huh?"
"I guess so. Earth as a whole, really."
Dream glanced down at his grassy pinstripe pants and sighed. They'd undoubtedly need to be
washed, but it was worth it for the silly conversations the two got to have.
"Oh, would you like a change of pants? And a sweater, if you'd like. I doubt you want to stay in
such formal attire," George suggested, turning to his wardrobe before Dream could even respond.
The prince was a lot more petite than Dream, but fortunately, he enjoyed sleeping in oversized
clothes. He tossed a deep green hoodie and shorts to his friend and delved back into his closet to
find clothes for himself. "That hoodie was a gift from another royal family. Guess they didn't know
I'm colorblind."
Still unmasked, Dream's fingers grasped the silky fabric and grinned. "Thanks, George. I guess
we're having a sleepover?"
"Sleepover?"
"Yeah, have you never had one?"
"What is a sleepover?"
Dream had to use everything in his power to not facepalm himself. "You know, when a friend stays
the night and you stay up as long as you can playing games and stuff?"
George pouted. "I don't believe I've ever had one of those."
In turn, Dream giggled. "This is going to be a lot like when I was sixteen."
"What does being sixteen have to do with any of this?" George scoffed playfully, crossing his arms.
"Oh, nothing, nothing at all. Would you be interested in playing sleepover games?"
The prince shrugged while he changed into a more comfortable outfit. "Again, I've never even had
a sleepover. What games are played at such a gathering?
"Well, there's card games, truth or dare... spin the bottle," he was well aware that spin the bottle
required more than two people, but he would have no issue bending the rules for someone who had
never even heard of it before. "But let's start with truth or dare. It's pretty self-explanatory."
Even though George didn't have much of a choice, he still did aspire to play. They sat criss-cross
across from each other on George's bed as the moonlight grew brighter. Dream spent a moment
explaining the rules to George. There weren't many at all, George just didn't know what kinds of
questions were typically asked or accepted. He kept questioning what kinds of subjects were okay
to ask, but Dream didn't object to having to reexplain every time.
Dream began first so George could catch on. "Alright, Georgie, truth or dare?"
The prince rolled his eyes at the nickname and thought for an exorbitant amount of time, finally
settling on truth. By the looks of it, choosing truth was the reliable route.
"Hmm," Dream hummed in thought. "What do you like most about being a prince, since you're
always talking about the things you dislike?" he asked.
George pondered an answer. He had never thought about it before; he was always so focused on
his disdain for the royal life. "I guess I really like the library. I don't have to have a library card, I
can take whatever I please and return it whenever as well. It's also super huge!" George's
wholesome answer was enough for Dream's satisfaction.
For the following question, Dream also selected truth.
"Hmm... Oh, I know! Why is your mask a smiley face? Why not a regular mask?" the question had
been on his mind since he met him.
Dream laughed and proceeded to answer to the best of his ability. "It's because it makes me less...
threatening? I guess. I don't want to seem scary when I meet someone new. I have to wear the
mask, might as well add a smile." It was true, he wasn't exaggerating. He didn't want to alarm the
people he was supposed to be prattling with. George nodded in understanding, even though the
choice was strange to him. The smile came off more sinister than Dream seemingly intended, but
he was blissfully oblivious.
During the next round, George decided to take the safe course of truths again.
"Aww, come on George! Afraid of a dare?" Dream played, leaning forwards and scrunching up his
nose.
George shoved him away and crossed his arms again. "No, just give me a truth! There are no
precepts that determine my choice... from my understanding."
"Fine," Dream dragged out the middle of the word and decided to make things entertaining by
asking the most generic truth or dare question ever. It would be fun to mess with George, and he
was genuinely curious as well. "Have you ever liked someone?"
"Of course I've liked someone. I've liked lots of people! Like my nanny, the-"
"No, no, not like that. I mean like, having a crush on someone!" Dream shyly giggled, rethinking
his choice.
"What does that mean!?" Not understanding outside slang was really starting to frustrate the poor
boy. By the sound of it, it seemed very unpleasant.
Dream caught his breath and sat up straight. "Okay, let me rephrase it. Have you ever been in
love?"
George's face flushed pink and his stature went stiff. "Um, perhaps. That's all I'll tell."
"No, do say more, I'm interested now."
The prince faltered. "U-uh, no. I answered the question, that's it. Let's move on, this round is over.
Truth or dare?"
Dream wondered why George was so persistent about moving on. "Just tell me who! I swear I
won't tell anybody, I have nobody to tell in general. I won't make fun of you or tease you, I
promise!" Dream's curiosity was reaching levels comparable to George's. "It's a standard truth or
dare question, man, I gotta know!"
George shook his head furiously, sinking it into the blanket he had clutched in his arms. "I know
you'll make fun of me," his words were muffled by the plush material. He wasn't uncomfortable, he
just didn't expect to be interrogated about such a topic that night.
Pulling the blanket from George with gentle strength, Dream said, "Look at me, George. I promise
I will never make fun of you," his tone was laced with a seriousness that startled George. But it
was also strangely soothing. To a degree, it was also humorous considering the circumstances. He
was being so serious over such a trivial topic, but his words extended far beyond their senseless
little game.
The flustered boy directed his gaze down to the bed, studying every fiber of the sheets as he chose
his words without much thought. "It doesn't matter anyway, I'll never see Sap again." As soon as
he realized he dropped the name of the person, his palms flew to his face.
Dream's broad, glowing smile fell. Not in an unenthusiastic way, he was just astounded. He
thought for sure he was going to say Fundy. "...Sap?" His blushy face drained at the name. It felt as
if his heart was sinking to his feet like it was being dragged by a tidal wave. A sickening wave of
dizzy infirmity.
George tugged his blanket back from Dream. "Uh, yeah. I'm sorry, it's weird, I know, I shouldn't
have said anything."
Not minding the sudden lack of blanket, Dream weakly smiled. He wanted to know if it was the
same Sap he was thinking of, so he gradually attempted to shift the topic.
Dream immediately felt really dejected for making George uncomfortable. "No, no! It's not weird,
it's not strange at all. That's perfectly normal. I just thought you were going to say Fundy. I didn't
expect you to say the name Sap. I... also knew someone that went by that name."
Heavy, chocolate brown eyes slowly looked back up at Dream. "Really? Who?"
"Well, tell me who your Sap was first. Deal?" Dream asked, checking to make sure his mask was
still beside him.
George sighed and sat up straight. "Okay, deal. He was another prince," he paused, almost deciding
to halt his explanation, "and our kingdoms were trade partners so our parents met up a lot... which
meant we saw each other a lot in turn. We were best friends for years, it was pleasant. I don't really
want to talk about the rest."
The "I don't really want to talk about the rest" pained Dream's spirit. He could sense the aura of
sorrow emanating from the prince, but he also understood that they probably shared the same
friend. Dream did recall Sapnap having other noble friends as well, so it was far from improbable
that they had known each other. Like an axe to timber, Dream's merriment was sliced into two. He
had killed not only his own best friend, but George's, too.
"Oh. I'm so sorry, George. I... think I knew him as well."
"...You did?"
Indecision laved over Dream like flooding water into a conduit.
"Uh, yeah. I'm pretty sure," he replied, even though he was certain, "Sapnap, right?"
All color drained from Geroge's face. His lips hung slightly apart and his eyes were shaded with
anguish and confusion. "But how?"
"Look, look. I'll explain, I promise. It's what I wanted to talk to you about in the first place. It's why
I wanted to come up here, I guess."
Dream wanted more than anything to explain to George the incidents and have him understand. It's
all he desired. Dream wanted to protect George. He wanted to keep him sheltered from the brutality
of his agency, but it was something he hadn't pulled off in the past. Dread engulfed him; if he
failed, his kill count would involuntarily rise just like his budding admiration for the prince.
The mask beside him pleaded to be put back on.
Dream shifted his gaze from his intertwined fingers back up to George's disoriented, yet delicately
innocent face. "If... If I tell you everything, you have to promise to listen to everything before
freaking out, okay?" He cursed himself for phrasing his sentence so poorly.
A troubled eloquence crossed George's face. "I... promise."
He lifted his arm to hold out his pinkie finger. No matter how uneasy he felt, he still wanted to trust
Dream. To the prince, a pinkie promise was the noblest form of dependable reliability. To break a
pinkie promise was to give up a friendship readily.
"Thank you, George," Dream softly murmured, intertwining their fingers.
Chapter End Notes

Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Notes
dream bit his tongue, weighing his only options.
He could either admit to George the reason he had met him in the first place as well as his
proposition, or he could remain hushed, savoring his last few days with the prince before his
agency came to finish the job. They would come to finish both their days without as much as a
second thought. They were utterly wicked and heartless.
However, he had now warranted a commitment between the two. Even if was just a childish
tradition, it was a promise nonetheless. It was evidently significant to George, so Dream felt he
only had that one option, after all.
Dream feared what would happen if he stayed quiet. Sure, George might be relieved and contented
for a few days, but it would be at the cost of his life. Additionally, he would never learn what was
really the cause of his dear childhood friend's demise. Against his will, a friend that he trusted, a
friend that he cherished would be cast to holding him underwater with wavering force.
George's body would weaken under the pressure. His eyes would press shut for as long as he could
hold them until he would open them to take one final devastating, betrayed, glossy look at his
"friend."
Dream would no longer be his companion. He wouldn't deserve that title to any degree.
George would undoubtedly attempt to free himself, but it would end in no victory. His lungs would
burn like nettles pricking delicate skin, his brain begging him to take a breath. Involuntarily, he
would do just that; causing him an untimely and horrific death.
All the while watching someone he thought he loved be the reason it was happening.
Dream's disturbing imagination left him alone when George's melodious voice asked him if he was
alright. The boy's disheartened gaze held a disordered spirit. He didn't know if he was alright.
"Uh, yeah. Sorry. Anyway," Dream lightly shook his head to rid him of his nightmarish thoughts
completely and continued to speak, "you know I'm not a guard. Both of us know that."
Selecting the words in his sentences proved to be more difficult than anticipated.
"I really don't know how to say it without scaring you. I- just please, know that I am not going to
hurt you, nor do I even remotely want to do that." He could sense the uncertainty in George's faint
frown already. "I will never hurt you. This is something I was forced into and I'm trying my utmost
to set everything right again and to get away from it."
George was anxious, and admittedly afraid, but told himself he was going to try to understand, no
matter what it was. "Get away from what?"
Dream couldn't bear to look at George. "I work for a business, more or less. A business that I'd
rather die than keep working for. I got dragged into it against my will and it ruined my fucking life.
I'm so ashamed of the things they've made me do. However, if I try to leave, they'll kill me." His
breath caught in his throat. "They'll kill me and you."
Both hearts were beating faster than ever. George felt like he might faint.
"I was hired to...," Dream didn't want to finish the sentence, "assassinate you."
The prince wasn't aware of what he was expecting, but the answer he got was more than he could
wrap his head around. It felt like his veins were dried and withered and his palms went cold. "W-
what?"
Dream withstood the urge to bite his tongue even harder. The trouble in George's voice hurt more
than expected.
"I'm not gonna assassinate you! I can't, I just can't do that, you're too special to me for me to go
through with it, I knew the first fucking day I met you," Dream was suppressing tears that loomed
to humiliate him.
So was George.
"There are two ways we can get out of this. I've been thinking for days and we can either fake our
deaths or... do something else that is definitely much riskier. I'm supposed to drown you, that was
my assigned method, so if we make it look like we both drowned-"
George's poor head was spinning. It was all too much for him at once. "So that's all this was?"
Words froze, and Dream looked up mid-sentence. "What?"
"It all meant nothing? You were just here to kill me?"
Dream panicked, intuitively wrapping George in an embrace and resting his chin atop the
brunette's head. "Hey, Georgie, it's okay. It's alright, I swear. I know it's a lot to take in, I know.
You mean a lot to me, why else would I be trying to save us?"
What George wanted to do was to push Dream away and yell until his throat became hoarse.
However, there was something about Dream's arms around him that calmed him to an extent as his
eyes overflowed with tears. He was so bitter and bewildered, but he couldn't propel his body to do
what his brain wanted.
Dream lamented, George still in his grasp. "I had to... kill..." the word punctured his chest like a
poison-tipped arrow drawn from a quiver of betrayal, "my best friend a few years ago. I wish I
never would've done it. I wanted to save him so badly but it didn't work. That's why I can't let you
go like I did him."
The person Dream spoke of was none other than Sapnap, and George was not unaware of the fact.
He just didn't want to admit it to himself. He still hadn't completely accepted the fact that Sapnap
was gone and it had been five years.
The prince sniffled. "...You're the reason Sapnap is dead?"
His voice cracked at the end of his broken sentence.

Chapter End Notes

Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Notes
george's promise to himself of understanding decayed to rot the moment he learned dream was the
reason he was pitched to a life of desolation and obscurity for so many years.
Dream's optimism faded to despair as he studied George's distressed appearance. The prince's
desires finally took charge as his palms pushed against a green hoodie, shoving Dream away from
him. At this point, he didn't care how damp his cheeks were with tears. "You killed Sapnap?"
Dream just continued watching George with dim, sorry eyes.
"Are you going to answer me, or are you going to leave me in the dark again?"
"Again?" he finally answered.
"Yeah, again! You're the reason the only light in my life was extinguished. I thought I had found
another, but I was so, so wrong."
It felt as if both of their worlds were collectively fragmenting.
"George, I didn't want to, I really didn't! I swear on everything that I didn't want to do that to him. I
tried so hard, I just couldn't do it in time, we would have both been killed! I didn't want it to end
like that," he was practically pleading for forgiveness, trying not to choke on his own tears with
every begging word.
Dream had messed up. Never mentioning Sapnap would have resulted in a much more joyful night
for them both. Especially for George; it was his birthday, after all.
Emotions were not something that George could burrow away anymore. Tears soaked his sleeves
more and more with every wipe, frantic attempts to dry away the despondency. "I loved him,
Dream. He's gone because of you."
"I promise, George, I didn't want to take anything away from you, I didn't even directly know of
your existence at the time. I never wanted to kill him," repeating words was doing no good. He was
losing hope.
The room had turned from comforting laughter to overbearing distress within fifteen minutes.
Everything was silent for a minute.
"Clay, I think you should just go," George managed to mutter, his voice high and his tear-stained
face turned away from the one he had called a friend just an hour ago.
The use of Dream's actual name grieved him. The first time George ever used it was in an
overwhelmingly morose way. Dream grabbed his mask and glanced at George once more before
regretfully stepping towards his window. He wished he had never mentioned Sapnap at all.
George was left in familiar silence, a little more pitiable than before.
---
Dream wasn't offended. He didn't have a valid reason to be. Instead, he felt utterly terrible for
George. It was completely fair, he didn't blame him at all. The boy he finally felt safe around had
just learned that he was hired to kill him and had previously been the reason his first love was
stripped of life forever. No more garden walks, no more early morning discussions or sharing
wafers with tea. All thanks to Dream.
The hardest part had arrived. Deciding.
Dream knew for a fact that being granted forgiveness by George was going to be near-impossible;
if he would ever be forgiven at all in his seemingly fleeting lifetime. It was going to take a lot of
time, patience, and effort, but Dream didn't have much of one of those factors. However, he was
willing to try anyway.
The chilled wall of the castle scraped at Dream's back as he sat considering each option. The one
he ended up deciding on was going to be remarkably unpleasant. It would arguably be the most
arduous thing he was ever going to do.
Clenched fists and disassociative eyes stared at the brittle paper in front of him.
George,
Meet me in the garden at sundown. I don't expect you to show up, but I would appreciate it more
than you'd believe if you did. I have something for you.
dream
His handwriting was abnormally shaky and messy. He was trying to desensitize himself to the
situation while also keeping the note vague in order to spark George's timeless curiosity.
---
Now masked again, Dream ascended carefully up to George's window on one of the higher floors.
To his fortune, it was still open from when he had left an hour ago. George was now asleep, his
blankets untidy and discarded to the floor.
It felt incongruous watching him when he wasn't aware of Dream's presence.
The note was hastily crumpled up into a ball of emptied sentiments and pitched to George's side
through the open window. He'd find it in the morning.
Within the note, a bundle of lavender remained as an apology.
---
Dream hummed melancholically to himself as he trudged back through the tall grass to where he
had been sleeping. If he would've kept quiet, he could've been next to George at that moment,
drifting into a serene sleep. He hurled away the chance to grow an inch closer to the prince, to
figure out how he really felt about him. He threw away the chance to listen to George's steady
heartbeat as drowsiness overtook them.
However, here he was, battling the urge to break down bawling while trekking through a field of
blues in the cool, summer night's air.
Dream hated himself.
Chapter End Notes

Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Notes
that night, sleeping seemed entirely impossible.
Dream craved that he wished he could neglect his feelings and actually do his job right. He
couldn't do that though. He was glad he didn't wish it, it proved he wasn't as wretched as he
sometimes believed himself to be, but he couldn't help but wish that he didn't care. At least enough
to get the job done.
All he had to do was hold the boy underwater for a few minutes, that's all it took. So simple! He
was easily ten times as strong as George, it wouldn't be troublesome at all. But for some reason,
just even thinking about it made his body ache with guilt.
He'd be all alone if the prince was gone.
Repercussions were something Dream didn't exactly want to deal with. He'd be praised by his
agency, yes, but he would be completely and utterly alone. He didn't even stop to consider that he
might be quite alone already, even without George dead.
If the one he mistakenly hurt didn't show up to the flower field the following night, it was a lost
cause. He wasn't going to kill him, he'd just let his company do it. At least he wouldn't have to do it
himself and he'd be dead as well.
Dream was laying in the dry grass, staring at the lustrous sky. The blades of grass loomed above
him like they were encaging him. The stars reminded him of George. Everything reminded him of
George.
His plan would either hit perfectly or miss devastatingly. At dawn, he'd travel to the neighboring
kingdom. He was well acquainted with the King and Queen and it wasn't an agonizing walk; it
would only take until noon to get there. That would give him enough time to conference with them
and get back to George's kingdom before nightfall. Dream could only hope his prince would be
there. Hope like his life depended on it, and it very well did.
He was going to ask the rulers for aid in something crucial to their survival.
Falling unconscious was greatly difficult with so many disturbances rushing through his brain at
once. He was restless and so, so nervous. What if he wasn't able to get help from the king and
queen? What if George didn't come or never found the note? What was his life going to be like
without George in it? He already lost Sapnap, if he lost George as well, his life wouldn't be worth
living.
He'd watch it all disintegrate to ashes.
Even if George didn't want anything to do with Dream at that moment, at least he'd be alive. That's
all that was important to Dream. That would be more than enough.
Eventually, his eyes remained closed and his body quit turning.
---
Dusky daylight shone upon his cheeks, alerting him that it was time to start on his life-dependant
journey.
He was still wearing George's hoodie. It smelled of flowery, vintage cologne and earthy plant soil.
Dream walked in muteness the entire way there.
Meanwhile, George was lying on his mockingly cold floor, clutching a pillow tight to his chest as
if it would somehow fix things. He hadn't cried for a while, but his throat was still tight and his
nose was still runny. He woke up earlier than he ever had before. He didn't dream of anything.
He could've still had Sapnap in his life if it wasn't for Dream.
Sapnap was George's very best friend. They were the closest as friends could be for as long as they
could remember. Countless long summer days full of hilarity and getting into absurd situations that
never failed to end in light punishment for the both of them. They'd laugh until their sides pained
them and their eyes watered.
At age sixteen, George realized that maybe, just maybe, he enjoyed the company of Sapnap more
than he should have. However, there was no way he'd ever make any advancements. He knew
Sapnap strictly only liked him as a friend, platonically only. George understood Sapnap's parents
would also entirely disown him before they'd let either kingdom rule with two kings. It would
cause the downfall of one kingdom and an uproar in the other.
So he kept his affections bottled up in firefly jars until the day Sapnap died.
Sapnap's kingdom tried to cover up the incident. Both him and his mother, the queen of their
kingdom, perished in the fire, as well as dozens of castle maids and courageous onlookers. George's
parents didn't have the heart to tell him what exactly happened, so they just evaded the topic
entirely and removed any media from the castle that might explain to George what actually
happened.
They didn't do a well enough job of that, evidently. George found out on his own. He went into a
profound depressive episode that left him emotionless and mute for months. He hadn't ever been
the same since. The prince would have nightmares every night about his castle sparking up in
flames and killing him as well; it got to the point where he was too horrified to go to sleep at all.
When George met Dream, he became attached to him so readily despite his mysteriously abrupt
appearance because he was yearning to again feel the same thing he felt around Sapnap.
Contentedness and conceivably admiration as well. Finding out that Dream was the reason Sapnap
was dead was something that further fragmented the unhealable fissure in his heart.
George's floor was colder than his hands. He wanted to cry more, but no tears would allow him that
luxury.
---
After hours of traveling in complete silence with the sporadic bird chirp or snap of an aspen twig,
Dream had arrived at the stone gates surrounded by grey ashlars. Thankfully, he didn't have to
sneakily creep into this castle. The rulers were friends of his.
Voice a bit hoarse from hours without speaking, he cleared his throat, informing the blonde boy in
the front bailey of his presence. "Hey, Tommy!"
A teenage boy bolted around, his eyes widening. "Dream, Big D!" He was carrying a blue plastic
sword in his fist; it appeared as if he was about to mug the feeble groundskeeper wincing in fear
against the parapets.
"Good to see you, too, Tommy," Dream cringed at the godawful nickname Tommy had given him.
"Just mugged a woman, feelin' good," Tommy smirked, bounding away from the shocked woman
and over to Dream who stood behind the bars of the front gate.
"...Gonna let me in?"
Tommy considered his options for a moment. "It's kinda funny seeing you behind bars like this, but
fine, I guess. Let me go fetch my parents, I guess ."
Chapter End Notes

Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Notes
dream was let in through the gates without hesitation by a man even taller than him.
While in the kingdom, he was always referred to as Clay. Except for Tommy, he thought it was
more interesting to call him Dream.
Tommy tagged along next to Dream as they were escorted through the stone castle halls. Their
castle was much different from George's. Theirs was made of ashen rock and polished mineral,
George's was made of glossy marble and white granite.
It wasn't every day the castle got a visitor, especially one that Tommy enjoyed. He was starting to
get bored of browbeating the employees.
"So, Tommy, how's prince life been treating you?" Dream asked, trying to put on a cheerful face,
which would have been much easier if he had been wearing his mask. Nevertheless, it was pleasant
to not have to wear it in the kingdom.
Tommy rolled his eyes. "Treating me like shit, I hate it here. Why can't a man just get his hands on
dynamite without getting shrieked at?"
Dream burst out laughing as the guards escorting them tensed up. "What in the world did you do,
Tommy!?"
Classic Tommy, doing everything in his power to entertain himself in the most bizarre ways
possible.
The guards opened the extravagant doors to the dining hall where the king and queen were
standing, arranging the table for lunch together while two chefs brought out covered platters. It
already had a much more untroubled and even a more heavenly feeling compared to George's
family.
The dining hall had gigantic stained glass windows with imagery of knighted steeds and dragons
that lined the parallel walls, casting cerulean and golden light to the quartz floors.
A tall, curly brown-haired man looked up from ordering a set of utensils and instantly grinned
radiantly. He nudged the blonde-haired woman next to him, who finished pouring ice water into a
pristine glass and turned her attention to Dream. They both hurried over to greet him, smiles wide.
Dream hugged them both. It had been a long time since he had last seen the family. Wilbur and
Niki. Their kingdom was such a pleasure to be in again.
"What brings you here, Clay? Wilbur inquired, sending a joking, warning glare towards Tommy
when he saw him sneaking a bread roll from the table before lunchtime. He thought he was being
slick about it.
"Um, something quite serious, actually. I need help very desperately. I got myself into a situation
that I'd do anything to get out of and I can't do it alone."
Niki's face turned to a concerned frown. "Clay, would you like to stay for lunch? We can talk for
as long as you need, I'm sure you're starving if you walked all this way."
Dream nodded; he couldn't remember the last time he had a full meal. Generosity was something
that never ran low in the Soot kingdom.
---
Tommy was sat next to Dream while Wilbur and Niki convened across from them.
"Tom, what do I have to remind you about every single day? Why do you insist on bringing your
weird sword to every meal?" Wilbur facepalmed, questioning his son greatly. Niki just giggled.
Wilbur and Niki were the adoptive co-parents of Tommy. They ruled the kingdom as best friends
and did a splendid job of taking care of the castle and the small village.
"Father dearest, it is my enchanted diamond sword with entirely maxed out stats. It has fire aspect,
I cannot let it get into the hands of anybody... suspicious," Tommy responded in a skeptical
manner, shooting a glare towards a guard standing near the door, his "diamond" sword protected in
his arms. The guard immediately looked away in alarm. It was apparent they were all terrified of
him.
Wilbur was beyond confused but allowed his son to express himself in the ways he desired
regardless.
"So, Clay, about your situation," Niki started, "what happened?" It was a great way to shift the
attention away from Wilbur and Tommy's conversation.
Dream took a sip of his water, his body quickly feeling more refreshed. "It's... a long story, if you're
willing to listen. In short, I basically misjudged something by a longshot and can't finish a
responsibility I promised I would," he paused, "I need to save somebody but once it's evident that
I'm trying to do that, our lives will be on the line. I have a plan, but I can't do it without assistance...
and I was hoping you guys could help."
Tommy immediately shot up, sword in hand, spilling his can of Coca-Cola in the process. "Can I
help!?"
Aware of the fact it would be too dangerous to involve Tommy, Dream looked to Wilbur and Niki,
silently pleading that they'd decline.
Wilbur was about to say no after noticing the doubt in Dream's eyes, but Niki smiled and allowed it
to all three of their surprise. Seeing Tommy so passionate about something other than causing
unintentional emotional harm to the castle staff was astounding. "Tommy, you can help with as
much as Clay allows you to, understood? Whenever he says it's time for you to return, please
listen."
Tommy jumped up in excitement, sparkling smiles all around. Niki turned her gaze to Wilbur.
"Wil, I'm going to put Jack down to nap. Make sure Tommy doesn't spill anything else. It was
lovely seeing you again, Clay! Please do catch me up on what exactly you need in a bit," her lovely
grin flashed as she gently waved goodbye, taking her plate with her.
Brown eyes turned to Tommy, who instantly froze, fearing he was in trouble. "Tom, I'm going to
have an adult talk with Clay. Please go elsewhere and please don't repeat last night's incident. I'm
practically begging you, Tommy," Wilbur pleaded.
The teenager rolled his eyes and sighed. "Adult talk? What is that supposed to mean? Wil, I'm
seventeen, I'm nearly an adult. I'm involved too, can't I come?"
The king took a deep breath to regain his composure. "Thomas, we'll talk later." Full name meant
seriousness. Tommy reluctantly gave in and headed away after soaking up his sticky spilled coke,
two bread rolls in one hand and his "diamond sword" in the other.
Wilbur proceeded to lead Dream to the upstairs balcony for privacy as they talked.
Chapter End Notes

Chapter Twenty
uncertainty could be sensed in the air; wilbur had always been excellent at reading emotions.
He stood leaned against the balustrade, a glass of scarlet wine delicately held in his hand. "Alright,
Clay. What might this proposal of yours be?"
"Your hand in marriage-!" a troublesome teen shouted from inside the room.
"Thomas! Get out! Christ, you satanic child," Wilbur cried out, the red wine rising to spill from his
grasp as a lanky boy laughed and raced back down the stairs of the bedroom.
Wilbur pinched his nose bridge. "I am so sorry for that, Clay. He is a nuisance. As I was saying..."
he straightened his posture again and took a sip of his wine.
Dream loved this family to death.
He began to speak, but didn't know where to start. "So, before I begin, I need to know that you'll
protect me throughout this. It's a big request," Wilbur raised an eyebrow, "but I'm scared, Wilbur.
Genuinely scared."
Seeing Dream in such a vulnerable state was unique to Wilbur. He had always come off as such a
bold, assertive person. Ever since he was a teenager, living in the very kingdom they were standing
in.
"I've said it years ago, I'll say it again, Clay. You're always safe in my presence."
Dream felt the tenseness of his body release somewhat. "I messed something up a long time ago
that led up to this. It's something that could get me killed if the information gets into the wrong
hands. You could so easily have me killed if you inform anyone, so I need to know I have your
complete and undivided trust." This came as a surprise to the king, but he was absolutely willing to
help him.
"Clay, of course I'll protect you. Whatever you've dug yourself into, I am here to assist you. I am
sure it couldn't have been that bad, could it?"
"Wilbur, did I ever tell you how I got this scar?"
Wilbur froze his words and lightly shook his head. Whenever he had asked, Dream would turn
about the topic and completely disregard it. Wilbur recognized it as a sensitive subject and always
went along with the topic change.
Turning his gaze to look upon the rolling vineyards of wine grapes, Dream sighed. "When I lived
here all those years ago, thirteen or so, I got pulled into something. I'd rather explain it at a later
time because I get so fucking mad talking about it, but he made me do gruesome and horrific
things to people. I tried to get away one night and he hurt me with my own knife."
The memory was one that haunted him at night. His nightmares revolved around the very incident.
He was only a child. A kid who made a mistake and wanted to fix that mistake. He tried so hard,
but in return, got a blade ripped through his face.
Dream could no longer remember to what degree the injury hurt, but he did remember his shaking
palms drenched with his own blood, the red that clouded his stinging vision, and the roaring
beratement of his agency leader. It was all too much at once. Cowering in a shaking ball on the
snowy ground while holding an arm against an eye he didn't know remained or not, all while
getting unrelenting, despicable words shot at him. He wanted to genuinely die that night.
The distinct remembrance of looking in a cracked mirror the following night and thanking the
heavens that he could still see made him shiver.
"Clay, who did this?" Wilbur demanded, his tone as serious as it could get.
"That's what I'm getting to. I'll explain everything, I promise."
---
The next half an hour was spent standing out in the warm air with Wilbur, explaining everything.
Every detail, every name, answering every question, letting everything spill out. Dream had never
been able to let the words escape to anyone else; it felt so liberating. The entire time, he had been
trying to convince himself that it was all his fault, but Wilbur ensured him that it was not.
"I don't deserve him, he deserves the world and everything in it for what I put him through. He told
me... that I'm his world. I fucked that up. I can't turn back now, they'll shoot him square in the face
with me right after him no matter where the hell I go or how long I spend trying to run and hide. If
I ever make it that far," Dream tried to get himself to stop talking, but everything kept flooding out,
"I can't tell you how badly I want to give up."
Wilbur looked at the boy with heavy eyes.
"In conclusion, I want to bring him here until I can convince him to follow through with the plan.
He hates me right now, I fucking know it. But his life is at such high risk right now and I don't care
if he'll hate me for the rest of his life if it means he gets to see another day," Dream finally ended
his rant, his throat sore and scratchy.
The now-empty glass of wine sat idly on the balustrade as Wilbur started to speak. "Clay, I want
you to know that I will be here for you throughout all of this. Know that it is not one bit your fault.
None of this is. I'm ashamed of your actions, not you. Ashamed of the people that have put you into
this position. Bring him here tonight, I'll have a room downstairs prepared. Nobody but direct
blood and our guard commander is permitted in there, so he will be safe. I assure you. Niki and I
will be waiting."
Dream began to shake Wilbur's hand but ended up embracing him in a hug instead. Wilbur meant
more than him than ever for supporting him with something that was going to be so immensely
dangerous for everyone involved.
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Notes
george was still curled up like a napping cat on his ice-cold floor, even hours later.
He didn't want to get up for anything.
The uncrumpled note had been read over and over again what seemed like hundreds of times. The
prince couldn't decide whether or not he wanted to go. He was lightly rocking back and forth in a
futile attempt to comfort himself. A few sniffles could be heard before he opened the note to read
it again. George squinted his eyes to read in the low amount of light even though by this point, he
had essentially memorized the note.
A decision was made when he looked towards his starry clock. It was sundown. If he was going to
go, it would have to be then.
His brain told him it was a poor idea, but his heart was urging him to leave. It was a big fault of
his; he had always been too easily forgiving. When his nanny disappeared, he forgave his parents
for never telling him why she left. When Sapnap passed, he forgave his parents for not wanting to
break his heart. He forgave them for not allowing him to attend his funeral because it would crush
him again. They just wanted him to be content, right?
George had replayed Dream's words in his head on loop. He knew Dream didn't want to do it, but it
didn't change the fact that he still did. George's feelings were at war.
Yet still, he found himself slipping on a light sweater and taking a shaky breath as he approached
his window. It was still open from when Dream left, his curtains swaying gently in the breeze.
Sneaking out was never something George had willingly done by himself, but it felt like he had
done it a million times when he slipped his legs through the window.
"Dumb, stupid boy," George muttered under his breath as he took a look at the finely-trimmed,
green bushes beneath his window. He opened the crinkled note once more just to look at Dream's
handwriting.
---
Dream was waiting in the heart of the flower field, right under the forgotten willow tree, every
second growing more and more difficult for him as he wondered if George would appear from
behind the gate. He kept questioning whether or not he was making the best decision.
The second the masked boy spotted movement at the far edge of the field, his face lit up. Despite
George looking thoroughly irritated, Dream almost forgot that they had fought for a moment.
Once George finally reached Dream, he looked down at his own feet and the sprouts that hugged
them.
"...You actually came."
"What do you want, Dream?" George asked softly, flinging the wrinkled, tear-stained note to the
grass in front of him. He didn't want to look up. His eyes were puffy and his cheeks were red.
George's tone saddened Dream.
"I guess you could say... I want another chance?"
Immediately, George wiped his eyes with his sweater sleeve and turned to walk back to his room.
Dream quickly reached out to grab his sweater. "Please, George. At least listen?"
"I don't owe you my attention, Dream," George stated, on the verge of tears as he jerked his
sweater from Dream's grasp.
"I know, I know that. I understand. You don't owe me anything at all. I owe you endless apologies
and so many regretful hugs. But please, I just want to ask something. It might potentially, well,
actually, it will save you. I don't care if it saves me, I just care that it saves you. But you have to
listen, George."
The prince spoke without turning back towards Dream. "Why should I have any reason to believe
you?"
Dream sighed. It was just as challenging as he was afraid it was going to be.
"Please, come to the Soot Kingdom."
George stopped attempting to walk away. "What? Why?"
"I know Wilbur and Niki. The rulers. They're good friends of mine, they helped me a lot when I
was younger. If you're not out of this kingdom, I can't do anything anymore. You might as well say
goodbye to this field now if you don't come. I refuse to kill you. I can protect you in Castle Soot.
We'll all protect you."
Worry was starting to overwhelm Dream. If he didn't agree, he'd have to hear of George's death
while hopelessly hiding because he was too afraid to face his company head-on. Their graves
would be dozens of miles apart. Dream might not even get a grave at all.
Finally, George spoke. "I need a minute to think."
"Does that mean yes?"
The prince sat down into the grass and rested his head against his wool-covered arms. "It means I
need a minute to think. I need space, Dream. Please?"
It was a lot to speculate about. He didn't know if he could trust Dream again. He wasn't sure if he
wanted to die yet or not.
Sometimes it felt like he really did want to.
Dream agreed to give George as much space as he wanted.
Messing up even more by disturbing George would not be very beneficial, considering the
conditions. Dream stood a few feet from him, wondering if the silence was uncomfortable or
pleasant. The line was too blurry to tell, but he assumed the former rather than the latter.
He wanted to say something, but not a word seemed appropriate to say. Opting to stay soundless
while watching the long, willow tree leaves sway along with the breeze, living their simple and
untroubled lives was something he much preferred. Maybe George had taught him to pay more
attention to what the world had to offer, after all.
Dream kicked at the grass with his feet, his hands resting in his hoodie pockets. It wasn't George's
this time, it was one of Tommy's. It was fairly tight on him, but it was better than nothing and he
was appreciative of Tommy's benevolence. George still had Dream's suit in his room. He wondered
if he'd ever get it back.
It had been a few minutes and George finally faced Dream to give him a definite answer. "I'll come
with. But I'm not happy about it and I'm not going for you. I'm only going because I know you're
not joking about the death. I guess maybe I don't want to die yet. I still haven't gotten those water
lilies."
Even with so much going on, Dream was surprised that George's mind was still on something so
unimportant as a flower. Nevertheless, that was something he admired about the prince. Dream let
out a relieved breath and nodded. "Understandable, I'm not angry at that. You have reasons to
dislike me, I'm not going to try anything. Let's go before we lose any more time, okay?"
Dream gently grasped George's wrist, not exactly thinking before his action. George pulled his arm
away and said, "Okay, first, you're not holding my hand. That's off limits."
"I'm not holding your hand, I just wanna go-"
"Shut up! Second, am I allowed to bring anything? Like, we're leaving right now and not coming
back?"
Dream just stared at the prince. "George, I'm supposed to 'kill you' within the next three days. We
don't have time, we gotta go right now. I can come and get whatever you need tomorrow, don't
worry."
George faintly frowned and looked back towards his kingdom once more. He didn't know what his
future held. Maybe it would be the last time he ever felt the comfort of thousands of flowers
surrounding him.
"Okay, I'm ready. I guess."
---
The pair were about halfway to the Soot Kingdom. Niki had suggested sending a coach, but if as
little as one soul saw George out of the castle with an unidentified person in a Soot Kingdom coach,
their plans would be set to fire.
They were walking through a deserted, forgotten, densely overgrown forest trail. Dream went
through this path quite often whenever he had assignments in either kingdom. Nobody ever went
down it, he had it all to himself. It led directly from the Davidson Kingdom market square to the
outskirts of the Soot Kingdom.
No words had been exchanged the entirety of the walk until George whispered gloomily, "I miss
him."
It took not even a second for Dream to recognize who the prince was talking about.
"I know, I miss him too. More than I could ever put into words," his voice was a matching volume.
It was tranquil for a few more moments. Dream wanted them to go back to normal. To be able to
talk again. He didn't like the silence, it was painful. It reminded him of the eerie stillness when the
fire had subsided that night.
"I thought that if I got it over with, that would be it. I wouldn't have to dread it anymore. I thought
it wouldn't affect anyone as much as it did and that I'd forget about him. It obviously did and I am
so fucking sorry. I won't ever forgive myself for it."
Dream knew it wasn't enough for George to forgive him, but he at least wanted to touch upon it. He
didn't want George to think he didn't care.
The prince didn't continue the conversation.

Chapter End Notes

Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Notes
even though dream hated it, the remainder of the walk was completely soundless.
In regards to spoken words, at least. Sticks snapped every so often as nocturnal creatures roamed
about, obnoxiously loud as they went about their nights.
They finally arrived on the other side. It was just a brief walk to the gates of Castle Soot, now.
George was astonished. He had never been this far away from home before. "This is it? It looks
so... old."
"Wilbur and Niki like restoring aspects of the original castle that belonged to Wilbur's father many
years ago. They like the rustic, traditional stuff. Seems your parents went a much more modern
route," he motioned for George to follow him as he slipped his mask off.
"No mask?"
"Nope. Grew up here, they know me."
A mighty king emerged from the heavy doors, a lush cloak hanging an inch from the ground as he
walked. He looked relieved that the two had arrived safely. Wilbur was very tall, it frightened
George.
The king reached his hand out to the prince. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Prince George. I'm sure
you've been made aware, but I'm King Wilbur of the Soot Dynasty." George gently took his hand
out of instinct.
In the background, a woman could be heard shouting at someone. Very faintly, George could
make out the words, "Tommy! Get back here right now!"
Wilbur pretended not to notice.
The infamous Tommy came bounding out of the doors, excited to meet George. "Georgie! I'm a
prince too, you know, isn't that cool!? Look, we've got matching crowns!" Tommy beamed as Niki
rushed out to gain control of him.
George just stared at the teenager. "Oh, uh. Awesome," he didn't really know how to respond to
such an energetic person. He was, though, furious at the fact that this kid was taller than him.
Wilbur led the commotion indoors in fear of attracting too much attention at such a ridiculously
late hour.
---
While Wilbur and Niki finished preparing the downstairs room for George, Tommy was sent back
upstairs. He was disheartened that he never got to be included in anything. He tried telling them
that Dream said Tommy could help, but they wouldn't regard him. They were too busy focusing
their attention on George.
Tommy felt as if they treated him like a child most times.
He sat in his room, arms crossed as he awaited a reply from his best friend through their matching
set of walkie-talkies.
As soon as his friend Tubbo's voice could be heard through the other side, Tommy started raging
his tongue off.
"They don't let me do anything, Big T! There's another prince in this household right now and I'm
not even allowed to talk to the bitch!"
Niki, who happened to be passing by Tommy's room at just the right time while gathering
necessities for their new guest, yelled "I don't allow that word, Tommy!"
"You don't allow shit, bitch!" Tommy replied, kicking his door shut. "Finally, something
interesting happens and I'm told to wait upstairs. Can you believe that, Tubbo!?" I can't!"
Tubbo patiently listened. He was always the best at that. That's why Tommy chose him as his best
friend, he always listened.
"Tommy, how loud are you being right now?" Tubbo's calm voice asked through the walkie-talkie.
That was something he always asked Tommy when the boy was driven up the wall with a strong
emotion or a lot of energy. It reminded Tommy to quiet himself and regain his composure.
Tommy took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. "Very. I'm sorry. I'll be quieter."
"Don't be sorry, it's okay, Tommy. Do you feel okay now?"
"Better, at least."
---
It was only Dream and George in the prince's temporary room.
Wilbur and Niki decided they needed some much-needed alone time to sort things out. The tension
between them was easily recognizable, though they both chose to deliberately act oblivious to it.
George was sat on the edge of the king-sized bed, his head rested against the bedframe. The room
was very comfortable and elegant, it was just slightly dusty due to not being in use for so many
years. The housemaids weren't permitted into bloodrooms, so it hadn't seen proper cleaning in a
while. Niki did her best to tidy things up before George arrived, though.
The prince looked over to Dream, who was leaning against the wall, studying the mask in his
hands. "So this isn't some kind of... set-up?"
Dream was disappointed that the thought even crossed George's mind.
"Of course not, George. We're gonna protect you. I care about you, George. A lot. Why would I set
you up?"
George went quiet again. The silence was unbearably loud. It was so overpowering, Dream
couldn't deal with it anymore. He walked over to sit next to George. He couldn't take the tension
anymore, he wanted George to enjoy his presence again, and he wanted to enjoy George's without
feeling like he was going to say something wrong.
"Listen, George-"
"This again? Dream, I don't want to listen to your sappy apology over and over!"
Dream bit his tongue to stop himself from arguing back. That wouldn't help either of them. He just
didn't understand why George wouldn't even attempt to try to understand. He wrapped his arms
around George, pulling him into a cautious half-hug. "...I just wanted to say once more that I'm
sorry. I am."
Without warning, Tommy turned the handle and swung open the door without as much as a knock.
He stared for a split second and promptly swung on his heel to leave again, the door shutting
behind him, eyes wide. From behind the closed wooden door, he said, "Niki told me to tell you that
there are snacks upstairs if you want some and also goodnight, I think."
"Thanks, Tommy. Go to bed, it's two in the morning," Dream laughed, looking back towards
George.
Maybe they needed the lighthearted moment, because George surprisingly returned the embrace.
"Okay, Dream. Here's the deal. You are not in any way forgiven yet, nor do I believe I will ever
forgive you. But I'll tolerate you. I still like you, Dream. I just don't like what you had to do. I'm
sorry I acted as I did, it wasn't your fault."
Dream smiled widely, instantaneously forgetting about Tommy's entrance just moments ago.
"Thank you, George. I was so terrified you hated me," he said softly, almost mournfully, "I still
like you too, but I don't think that matters."
"Why wouldn't it matter?"
The two stared at one another while Dream contemplated saying what he certainly wanted to say.
"Because... you don't like me the way... that I like you." He couldn't believe he actually did it.
Dream's heart raced faster than it ever had before.
"...What?"
"I'm sorry. Very bad timing." Dream looked away, his face comparable to the roses in the vase on
the bedside table.
George's eyes sparkled as he forced himself not to jump up and around the entire bedroom.
"Dream, what do you mean by that?" He wanted to make sure Dream had truly meant what he said.
"Nothing. I'm sorry."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah."
Chapter End Notes

Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Notes
it was getting later and later by the minute, and george and dream's exhaustion was growing with
the time.
The whole bringing-George-to-the-Soot-Kingdom venture was very draining. At least they were
safe for now, and at least they were no longer silently fighting. They had each other, and that's all
they needed.
There were of course various upstairs guest bedrooms for Dream to choose from, but he had
already fallen dormant in George's room. The prince contemplated gently waking him for a short
time, but he knew well how exhausted his friend was mentally and physically. It wouldn't be very
kind of him.
George didn't know if Dream would be made uncomfortable waking up next to him in the morning.
Though, after their conversation a bit ago, he didn't think he'd seem to mind at all. It made him feel
cozy inside to know that someone might like him as much as he liked them.
The prince curled up beside Dream, pulling an extra wool blanket over his weary body. Despite
how tired he was, his thoughts wouldn't leave him be. He had just run away from his kingdom with
his assassin and probably wasn't ever going to go back. It felt wrong to call him an assassin
anymore.
George yawned, still timid of what was to come, but willing to face it with Dream at his side.
---
It was about four in the morning, and Tommy was still wide awake. He would typically be
sleeping well before an hour such as this one, but he had something to do that night.
The boy eagerly shot out of bed and rushed to slip his socks and shoes out without causing much of
a ruckus.
He positively failed in doing so when he knocked over his desk chair into his wardrobe. Niki came
hurrying in, terrified that something had happened to her son. She had been on edge all night; they
were housing an escaped prince, after all. Tommy apologized, used the excuse that he was just
getting water, and hastily threw himself back in bed, acting as if nothing had happened in the first
place.
After Niki had checked on him once more, he knew the coast was clear.
Tommy shoved open his window, speedily hopping to a branch of the tree that reached well up
past his window. He had been using this method of nighttime escape since he was thirteen.
Jumping directly down from the second story likely wouldn't end in a successful escape.
Not an ounce of tiredness drifted throughout his body, the adrenaline was fueling him now.
After stealthily snaking down the oak tree and jumping with a soft thud to the lawn, Tommy
whipped out his walkie-talkie from his bag. He held the button, watched the miniature light flicker
on, and said quietly, "Tubbo! You there, big man?"
A few seconds of static passed.
"Yes, I'm here, Tommy! You almost at the spot?"
"Just got down my tree, I'll be there in ten!"
Tubbo could hear his smile through the static.
---
After ten minutes of excited speedwalking, his path illuminated by vanishing and reappearing
fireflies, Tommy reached a small clearing in the middle of the forest where the pine trees parted
and the sky was fully visible. It was their favorite spot. A spot of memories and laughter.
"Tommy!"
The voice instantly recognizable, Tommy darted towards his friend, bouncing towards him to hug
him, sending them both into the dark grass in a fit of laughter. It wasn't very often they got to see
each other in person.
Tommy was a prince with royal responsibilities, Tubbo was a village boy who worked at his
mother's fruit grocery. They went to different schools since Tommy was a prince, and the poor boy
was almost always busy, so the rare times they got to see each other were always cherished.
They had originally planned to meet earlier than the dead of night but with the arrival of George,
their plans got shifted.
Tubbo brushed off his green button-up shirt, beaming as bright as the stars above them. "I'm so
glad I get to see you again, even for just a few hours. I missed you so much, Tommy!"
Tommy wasn't as good at verbally expressing emotions as his friend was. "It's nice to see you too,
Big T."
---
"So, Tommy, what's it like having another prince in the castle?" Tubbo asked, sitting himself up in
the grass, leaning backward on his elbows, his feathery brown hair resting over his eyes.
Tommy groaned. "It's shit! Nobody pays attention to me anymore! Can't even get a ride down to
the arcade without getting shushed, man!"
"Weren't you... banned from the village arcade for committing theft?" Tubbo innocently
questioned.
That day could be remembered like it was yesterday. Tommy jumping behind the counter,
shoveling all the plastic guns in the bins into his arms as employees sat back in anguish. They
couldn't do anything, he was notorious for getting townspeople in profound trouble for "attacking"
him. He clearly abused his princely powers.
"What of it?" Tommy giggled.

The two caught up on typical life stuff, such as what they were learning in school and what was
going on in each household. Tubbo let himself fall back into the grass to view the stars. He could
immediately point out a few constellations and the name of every star that they were composed of.
Tommy always felt so proud to have such an intelligent best friend.
"So what's that one?" Tommy asked, pointing to a random constellation, "It looks like a woman
and you know I love women!" he joked, playing into their silly little inside joke.
"That's Equuleus, Tommy. How in the world does that look like a woman to you?" Tubbo knew he
was joking, but laughed along anyway. "It means 'little horse' and it's one of the forty-eight
constellations recorded by Ptolemy. It's one of the eighty-eight modern constellations."
Tommy didn't know what any of the nonsense Tubbo just spewed out meant, but he listened
anyway while pointing to another. "That one?"
"Lyra. That's my mum's favorite one. It's also listed by Ptolemy and it has five main stars. Vega,
Gamma Lyrae, Mu Lyrae, Eta Lyrae, and Delta two lyrae. See that one over there?" Tubbo asked,
pointing to Lyrae's bordering constellation. "That's Vulpecula. It means 'little fox' and none of its
stars are brighter than the faintest one in Lyra."
It baffled Tommy to know these visible dots seemed so close, but in reality, they were so far away
that he'd never get remotely near any of them. Learning about them through Tubbo was interesting
him greatly, though. He kept pointing to more and more, earning interesting facts.
"That's Cygnus, the swan constellation. I think it's a really pretty one. Its brightest star is Deneb,
right there," he pointed to the brightest of the nine stars.
"How do you know all of this?"
"I just think it's really neat. If you ever wanna learn more, just ask me, I'd be happy to tell you
everything you wanna know!" Getting to talk to his best friend about something that fascinated him
so profoundly was comforting to Tubbo.
He was so glad he had someone to talk to about his interests.
Chapter End Notes

Chapter Twenty Four
Chapter Notes
birds never failed to be obnoxiously boisterous every morning.
Dream woke up before George did. He cringed at himself when it hit him that he had
unintentionally fallen asleep in George's bed. Whether George was too scared to wake him or didn't
mind his presence was a mystery to Dream. He wondered if George was irate at him for it.
The prince was a peaceful sleeper. He looked so serene and pretty. Dream knew he was nothing
like George at night. He'd toss and turn due to his nightmares and wake up with his hair matching a
lion's mane. However, for some unknown reason, Dream slept fine that night. He didn't deal with
his recurring nightmare for the first time in three years.
He didn't want George to wake and catch Dream staring at him, so he hopped up and began his
day.
At least they didn't wake up to any carnage.
---
It was lunchtime when George awoke from his tranquil slumber. He awakened without the
remembrance of Dream taking him to another castle, but soon realized where he was.
George waddled into the dining hall, following the scent of pancakes and maple syrup while
looking around for Dream. He didn't know Wilbur or Niki as well as he did Dream and he would
rather drink spoiled milk than have another conversation with Tommy.
He couldn't find him after a brief search of the confusing halls, so he turned to tentatively
approaching Niki. She seemed the most congenial of the family.
"Uh, hello ma'am. Do you happen to know where Dream is?" he asked shyly, unable to make direct
eye contact with the blithe woman.
Niki turned around from placing a plate of neatly sliced blueberry pancakes in front of a small child
in a high chair. "Oh, good afternoon, George. There's no need to address me so formally, just call
me Niki! Dream left about an hour ago to go retrieve some of your belongings, I believe," her
German accent was shining through, which oddly comforted George. "You also made it just in time
for lunch! Well, breakfast I suppose. None of us except Clay awoke in time for actual breakfast,"
she giggled, covering her smile with a gentle hand adorned with all sorts of stunning rings and
bracelets.
George smiled back, feeling a lot more at ease thanks to Niki's warming aura. "Thank you, Niki.
I'm glad to know he's okay."
If Dream had been gone for a few hours already, George assumed he'd be back in about three or
four more. He wished Dream would have woken him so he could come with or at least tell him
what he wanted Dream to bring back, but he was already gone and there was nothing he could do
about it. He also knew tagging along in broad daylight would be a death wish.
George wasn't exactly sure what to do to pass the time.
Tommy popped out from behind the long dining table, shooting a foam bullet towards the fellow
prince. "HAHA, got you bitchboy!"
Niki turned on her heel and seized the plastic gun right from his hand. "Thomas! Do not use that
word in reference to a guest, and please do not shoot them either," even though she was trying to be
serious, her voice was still soft.
Tommy was devastated. "Niki, give me my vlog gun back!"
Niki stayed put, crossing her arms. "You shot our guest, you don't get vlog gun privileges anymore,
sir."
George wanted to beat his head against a brick wall. This family was insane.
"Tom, how about you show George around the castle? Let him know where everything is? And
don't cause any trouble for him or you're grounded."
"You can't ground me, woman."
Niki whacked Tommy in the head with his gun and sent him on his way, George beside him. "Fine,
fine!" he grumbled, rubbing his forehead with his palm.
He glanced to George with wide eyes. "Guess I'm stuck with you, Georgie-poo!" Tommy cackled,
dragging George to their first stop: every single bathroom in the entire castle. Twenty of them.
"I hate you," George muttered. He couldn't wait until Dream returned.
---
Spending more than an hour with someone so energetic was new to George. He wasn't used to it.
However, he did actually begin to appreciate it after a bit. It was debilitating at first, following
Tommy through elongated halls as he cracked jokes that an eleven-year-old would be expected to
make. After the "tour" was over, Tommy presented his room to George.
It was surprisingly tidy and displayed all sorts of things from his plastic sword hung on a hook—
clearly of importance—to framed posters, sketches, childhood photos, and strings of polaroid
pictures; all of him and the same other person doing goofy poses. "Who's that?" George asked,
getting a closer look at the boy beside him, whose eyes were never visible due to his thick brown
hair.
"That's Tubbo, he's my best friend. He is so very cool and smart, he tells me about constellations
and I tell him about how many bullets my vlog gun can shoot in one minute."
"That's wonderful, he likes stars, too?" George asked, completely disregarding Tommy's half of the
contribution.
"Yeah! A lot, he tells me their names and what stars are in them and how bright the stars are and
who discovered them and what season they show up in and how far away they are and their
nicknames and their bordering constellations and their Flamsteed designations-"
Tommy seemed so genuinely cheerful babbling to George about his best friend, and he looked so
excited in the pictures. It was kind of heartwarming even though Tommy was too much for George
to handle most times. He was solely used to living a withdrawn life, not rushing around a castle
with a seventeen-year-old as they shot plastic bullets at each other pretending to survive a zombie
apocalypse. Tommy grabbed his beloved sword from the hook.
"Tubbo keeps me in line when I want to start stabbin' shit," he laughed, playfully stabbing George
in the chest. George smiled and shoved the sword away from him with one hand.
"Seems like you two are very good friends."
"Well duh," Tommy huffed, "have you not figured that out yet? Are you stupid? Are you dumb,
Gogy?"
George burst out laughing. "Gogy!? What kind of nickname is that?"
The pesky teen "stabbed" the prince with the sword again. "Man, don't ask me, I just heard Dream
say it!"
"Seriously!?"
---
After three hours of being explained to the history of the castle and all of the fond memories held
within the ashlar walls, Dream had finally arrived back with a backpack packed to the brim and an
armful of neatly tied bundles of clothing.
The second George distinguished his voice from the rest, he ran to the recreation wing as fast as his
legs would take him. It was strange that he missed him, he didn't want to miss him in fear he'd lose
him and care just that slight bit more.
Dream slid the backpack from his shoulder with a sigh, allowing it to hit the fluffy, carpeted floor.
He flung the bundles of clothes into George's arms, almost knocking the boy over entirely.
"Thanks, Dream. What'd you bring back?" George asked like a curious child, unzipping the
backpack to reveal its simple contents after setting down the bundles. He saw a few random
trinkets from his desk and some drawers, such as pens, notebooks, and a small bag of some of his
sticky stars. His smile grew wider as everything became more and more familiar. The object that
really caught his eye, however, was a sheepskin journal. He instantly recognized it.
The lavender that Dream had bound to the note two nights prior was placed in between his two
favorite pages; George was pressing them to preserve their memories together. When they were
fighting, he believed they'd never stop. The prince wanted a way to remember him in case he never
returned. Quickly covering the book with his arms, a timid blush spread across his cheeks. "H-
How did you know about that book?" George asked nervously, hoping Dream hadn't read any of
the pages.
It was his poetry book.
Tommy, being the "I want to know everything going on right now" type of boy he was, jumped up
in excitement. "What book?"
George rolled his eyes, shoving the journal back into the backpack, pulling it away from Tommy.
It was no use, the energetic boy had already thrown himself over to George to unzip the backpack
again. He seemed to not have a sense of personal space and property.
Dream shrugged. "Don't know, it was just on your bed and looked important, so I grabbed it."
When opening the book, it turned right to the page with the lavender. Since it had only been two
days, they weren't dry yet; just still in the process, therefore leaving light purple stains soaked into
the crisp paper that held George's fragile thoughts within. To Tommy, the flowers had no meaning,
so it didn't matter. "Flowers? Why are there flowers in your notebook?"
The prince panicked, trying to think of a worthwhile excuse while also avoiding telling Dream that
he had kept the sorry-flowers. "U-um, they're from someone. Named Fundy. Owns a flower shop in
my kingdom... gave them to me... for free. Yeah."
Dream's enthusiastic smile quickly turned to a frown. Fundy was still on his mind, it seemed.
Out of seemingly nowhere, a guard turned the corner and looked to be considerably annoyed. She
had long, lustrous purple hair; something very unique for a royal guard to have. Typical attire
involved a very strict dress code of tied-up, smooth natural hair. It was kind of Niki and Wilbur to
rewrite the manuals to allow staff to express themselves more on the job.
"Niki, Wilbur, we may or may not have quite a large issue at the gates," her accent came as a
surprise to the two who had never previously met her. She was fully Irish.
"What is it now, Minx?" Tommy groaned, fearing it would somehow be about him. Minx always
seemed to be on his tail about something. She didn't dislike him, she just really relished in messing
with the poor kid.
She shot a cutting, flaming glare towards the boy. "It's not about you, dumbass. There's a guard
from the Davidson Kingdom requesting access to the grounds. He said if we deny him, he'll come
back with a search warrant. Won't help that if we deny him in the first place, it'll raise suspicion.
Your call, hotshot."
Her speaking mannerisms were also very strange for a royal guard. Especially one of her status.
The Soot Kingdom prince sighed in relief while Niki quickly motioned for George to follow her
downstairs. Wilbur looked to be reasonably concerned.
Dream turned towards Tommy. "This isn't something to be relieved about, Tommy," he murmured,
following in pursuit of Niki and George while Wilbur followed Minx through a different door.
Tommy allowed himself to fall back onto the couch, staring at the faraway ceilings. "Alone again,
it seems."
Chapter End Notes
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End Notes
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Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

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these are just a few things to acknowledge before reading

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He craved a life that wasn't so guiltily unendurable.

He couldn't stand it.

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mornings were perpetually groggy.

Her temper was always polluted with sardonic enthusiasm.

George decided a nap would do him good.

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"But you just did."

He got his answer.

"It's Dream. My name."

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"I still miss you. A lot. I... I'm sorry."

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"Understand what?" George asked, tilting his head a tad.

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the more intricate part of dream's plan was approaching quickly.

"Are you crazy? Someone is going to see us and we are dead!"

"What if I don't want to follow you?"

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the unoccupied area held no emotion comparable to its flowery twin.

"How rude," Dream joked, his tone apparent.

"Thanks. For, you know, giving me a reason to leave. I appreciate it."

"You could've easily left on your own."

Quietness ensued. Whether it was comfortable or not was disputable.

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George awkwardly nodded.