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george opens his eyes, staring up at the beautiful details on the ceiling. the room is large, priceless details and furniture was perfectly placed. though everything seemed perfect, and really, everything was- george didn't really like it at all. being a prince was, in fact, boring as hell. he wasn't like the king. he was mysterious, cunning, going on hunts and coming back with treasures; with his large white mask blocking the view of his face, and real identity. george... didn't really have that. sure, he was best friends with him, but he wasn't really that good at hunting like dream. and he also had stupid prince duties, like randomly having to wave, sign pointless papers and attend dumb parties. george was happy. truly, but at the same time he wanted to hide away from all of these riches in the castle, grab a long cloak and flee away for a bit. stay in a little cottage, try out hunting and craft his own items rather than taking everything already perfectly made. he had always accepted the bows, swords and axes that were magically enchanted, to his annoyance. george wanted someone new, something fresh like wood and grab his own things. but of course he would be stopped every goddamn time by his so called, "advisors," and his "helpers," bugging him all the time.
but today is different, he assumes. today is the day for a new task, which is looking at the recent riots for a recently opened shop. he didn’t exactly know what was happening, as the shop was quite far from the central town, nearing towards the large dark trees and eerie caves hidden from sight. george had also asked sapnap, the next prince and close friend, for more information rather than his advisors for the thousandth time. he remembered him claiming that it was a family potion shop, opened around a month ago with new residents in the town. it consisted of a family of four, and has been recently been receiving hate from the town as their ingredients seem to be dangerous. potion making in this town was rare, but that was only for simple medical potions and health ones, not obscure and different potions like damage or fire resistance, those were imported hardly for extremely important issues; like war or hunting.
so, george thought when he started to get ready, luring his horse and putting on his cloak, should probably ask them what’s up, maybe look around and see what they’ve got. but at the same time he was genuinely worried for them, what if their house caught on fire? sure, they probably could take that down easily but emotionally? he didn’t know about that. and now, his horse was ready, his bag clasped on his shoulder. he was ready to look, and to hopefully also not be as formal as he should in the spotlight. he rode his horse into the thick forests, rather than taking the shortcut through the town, savouring the peace and quiet he would be allowed for a little while. he felt like he was escaping, but truly, he was just doing another “duty,” something he hated. but at the same time, he was able to see something that was considered dark and impure, being the acts of potion making. he could already imagine the dark cloaks and thick atmosphere, probably a black large fancy house or something.
but when he had arrived, he had to double check if he was actually there. he stepped on the path, tied his horse, and was in shock of the so called “evil” that the town was disgusted with. it was a large cottage, shining in the summer lights, with loads of different flowers; some that george himself have not seen. daisies, roses, and more dominated the grass. large patches for farming grew crops and vegetables, wolves scrambling around in their pens with their pups. it seemed nothing as the town would claim, but george had noticed the new large wooden fence that was built around the house, for probably security after being attacked. looking closely down at the grass, he could see tomato stains, and as he came closer to the door, there were still major ones drying. the sign had been covered as well, and the windows were covered. so he had knocked. knocked twice after a few seconds, tapping his foot. he was expecting probably an old woman slowly walking to the door, dressed in a dark robe and a smirk. but, (again) surprisingly, he looked up at someone different.
he was tall, but his face was friendly. he had brown fluffy hair, that seemed soft to the touch, and wore a large mustard jumper. he also was wearing an apron, with a little patch with the initials, “SBI” which george assumed was their branding. the man looked down and smiled, but his eyes quickly held a flash of mistrust. george coughed, looked awkwardly around, and sighed.
“hello, i’m the prince of the town, er, and it seems that your shop has been causing trouble for our citizens. i’m here to ask questions, if you’re not busy?”
”mm, sure. i’m wilbur, by the way. we’re a family business,” he replied, opening the door for george. “i guess we’ve been having issues.. apparently ingredients are dangerous? that’s not true at all. i’m fine with showing everything, prince! want anything to drink?”
”ah, it’s alright, wilbur. so, tell me about your... business?” george looked around the room, in sudden awe. it was pretty homey, but had a lot of brewing stands and ingredients all around the area; some filled in baskets, some filled in little cabinets. glass bottles were displayed on a large cabinet, and books were neatly placed on the book stand. plants surrounded the room, some even on the table and one on the chair in the room. “well, this is our main room for making potions, and other materials. want to try anything?”
george hesitated at that. try the actual potions? the advisors would probably slap him. it would be terrible, and he could already imagine the long speech about “touching dangerous things” and “mingling with the enemy!” but snapped out of his thoughts once he felt a hand on his shoulder, and a careful smile.
“look, i know you’re a prince, and the whole prince thing is pretty.. well, tight. it’s rough, i know someone who escaped from that lifestyle.” wilbur started, picking up the steaming kettle, pouring a glass. “but, you’ll be safe to try the potions here. they’ll only last around three minutes, and we won’t tell anyone.” he stopped, putting a teabag in. “you have no worry, mate. no worry at all.”
and george felt more.. relaxed. a taste of freedom, and he realised that this little potion shop.. was something else. no one had really told him that he could have his own little moments of trying out new things, it was always forced on him. but wilbur had no care at all, smiling and offering him something new, something fresh. he liked that a lot. he wanted to get to know wilbur more, he seemed genuinely kind. someone different, who wasn’t destructive. “well, if so.. what options do you have?”
“well, we’ve got all you want, really, george,” george.. not prince, nor prince george. just george, like he was an old friend, rather than someone loaded with riches and control. “i guess fire resistance might be a good one? it’s pretty quick, and i’ve got some fire already for you to test.” wilbur looked at the cabinets, quickly finding the orange potion, bubbling inside. “so! try some out, i’ve got the fire with me, just drink the potion.”
the potion had smelt quite weird, a little bit of mist and cream. but it was exciting. new! so he had drunken it quickly, feeling the effects as his body started to tense up a little. george looked at his hand, then at wilbur, who was holding a rod with fire on it. he was smiling, and he held it out. so.. george had carefully reached.. and touched the fire.
it was mystical. it just.. went through. nothing happened, his body was fine. though wilbur seemed to take it as something normal, he did notice on how eager george was, and how he was in awe (again) from the potion shop in general. “that’s sick, woah.”
“thanks, everything here is crafted by us, every ingredient, everything. we’re a family business, and, well, it’s not illegal.” wilbur said, pointing to the ingredient box next to him. “these, you can check em out.”
and so george did. there were many little things, and some mysterious ones. he first picked up a little bottle, with misty liquid. wilbur looked. “those are ghast tears. from the nether, quite a hassle to get sometimes, but i don’t really do the collecting.” then another. “oh! those are golden carrots, they’re pretty easy to make, just carrots.. and well.. gold.” and another. “magma cream! that’s used in the fire resistance potion i gave you.” and so they had both talked about the basics of potions, and george felt... like he had made a new friend, someone who hasn't royalty, nor someone who had to be his friend because of his status. wilbur was an ordinary (well, not really having the mystical potion shop..) guy who george could really vent towards, and he did. how stupid his duties were. how he had to witness every other prince do what they wanted, but himself being left in the dust. and wilbur talked to him, helped him. offered george to try some more potions, and genuinely was trying to clear up the situation. in exchange, he told about his own little family which ran the potion shop.
"we were runaways, you see- from different areas of land." wilbur started. "we met each other. well, i met phil- he's like our dad, y'know?" he points towards a man in the photograph, wearing a striped hat and green clothes. he's smiling, and he's holding large wings, and once he looks closer-
"is that a elytra? those are... rare." they were. impossible to find, only the brave could achieve them. he heard a snort from the taller man, and looked back up. "yeah! he's a fighter. surviving for years, he's never sold it. it's cool, i've tried it once.. nearly drowned, pretty ass. and that's.. techno!" george looked towards the right of the photograph, and noticed a tall man with a cloak, pink hair and a diamond sword. "he's a sarcastic guy, but we all love him. fighter, too. he's great at combat, it's how we got so many materials! and er, well. he hasn't really started like that. no one has, in our family. rags, you know. but now, instead of the whole rags to riches, it's just rags to family. and i'm good with that, and our potion shop."
"ah, you forgot the teenager?"
"ugh, don't get me started on tommy. well, he's funny. funny to mess with, a lot! you would laugh when seeing his face after i stole his emeralds from him. his idol is literally one of our helpers in the other lands. businessman, i think you would know him. schlatt? ram horns, coins, stupid laugh." after noticing the slow nod, he stopped a little. "family is really important, man. i'm sorry you don't really.. have that. but you're always welcome to come hang out here, you know. if you pay up, i'll give you a little more of that potion! but, if you're struggling, or want a little bit of adventure, with us, just ring up or come."
and wilbur takes his hand. "always, mate."
always, george thinks to himself.
he's always allowed. until he isn't.
until, the potion shop is exposed again. exposed for having the infamous runaway prince, who shines in blood and dirty jewels traded for simple potion making ingredients. the shop is closed again. the tomato stains increase, the gate is crashed. brewing stands, crashed everywhere. the sleepy boys, george finds out- are gone. dream says, the runaway prince, and their family. the one, who has doubted me. they're gone now. gone, well, i don't know how- but i now know his identity. george, i don't think you should worry, really-
wilbur is gone. removed, forced out. no more smiles, little chats and sparkling potions. he is a prince, of course, he has no right to invest himself with so called runaways and criminals. george is smiling. it's a mask, he tries to keep it in place. but he knows, it's not working.
the next week, he visits the remains of the shop. there's.. something there, george notices in the rubble and dust. a little album cover, wrapped in foil.
your city gave me asthma.
and the family runs away, again, whilst the prince plays the music,
everything is burnt, and george doesn't go without a day remembering his smile and singing.