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Dream’s arm cages him in, blocking his view of the busy street. His head is tilted down so that his soft, dirty blond hair brushes against George’s forehead. His free hand is placed on the other boy’s hip, a barely noticeable weight against his skin. Shallow breaths make their way from his parted lips—panting from the fast sprint down the crowded roads. The swordsman’s head tilts away from him, scanning the busy roads with sharp, cat-like eyes.
George is as still as a board, his back pressed against the rough brick wall and his arms resting stiff at his sides. He doesn’t dare to move or speak, knowing of the redness in his own face and the way Dream’s featherlike touches set his skin on fire.
Dream is clearly not paying attention to him. He’s too focused on the potential danger coming their way to notice how the prince’s breath was hitching in his throat or how a fiery blush bloomed on his cheeks. He didn’t even seem to notice how his own leg was pressing slightly into George’s.
His smell wafts into the older boy’s nose, sending tingles of pleasure running down his spine. The jerking movement causes the man caging him in to look at him, intelligent green eyes locking with his darker brown ones.
“Sorry,” he whispers, wincing at the sound of his raspy voice. The blond glances at him worriedly, squinting through the darkness of the empty alleyway. He determines after a moment that George is alright, shifting again to stare back at the bustling streets. The movement causes more of his delicious scent to fill the other’s nose. He fights the rampant urge to lean closer and take another whiff.
A few moments of tense silence pass before Dream speaks, his voice low and uncharacteristically serious, “We need to find Sapnap.” George strains to hear his rough voice over the sounds of chatter and horse hooves, processing the murmured statement after a short moment.
“Okay.” He whispers back, watching Dream back up a little to free him from their position. He begins to turn slightly, pausing before peering down at the shorter boy.
“Your face is red. Are you okay?” He asks, eyebrows lowering in concern and his hand raising up to press a cool palm against George’s forehead.
It didn’t help in the slightest, and he almost jumped at the sudden touch. “Yup!” He squeaks with a nervous laugh, raising his arms to nudge Dream away, “Perfectly fine!” The swordsman raises a questioning eyebrow at his far too cheerful behavior, before shrugging and backing away. The white mask that had been previously resting on the side of his head was pulled over his face, replacing the animated features with a monotonous smiling face. To add to the look, he pulls up the green hood of his cloak to hide his dirty blond hair.
George mourns the loss.
“Alright,” He says, clearly not believing him. Dream looks around at the trash filled alleyway to see rats scuttling along the sides and flies buzzing. “Let’s get out of here and find Sapnap, it smells like shit.”
He agrees readily, ignoring the fact that he had been paying attention to the smell of Dream rather than the trashy alleyway. His friend grabs George’s wrist, barely giving him enough time to adjust his goggles from where they had moved from the top of his head when Dream had abruptly bundled them into the cramped space.
He sets off, pushing through the crowds and ignoring the people yelling at them to watch where they were going, dragging George behind him. His feet began to burn from tiredness, only able to touch the cobble floor for only half a second before being lifted to take another step as they dashed through the streets.
George keeps his eyes out for a familiar white headband tied around black hair, trusting his friend to drag him out of the way of any large objects. The stalls of the marketplace pass by in a blur of brown and rainbow, the colors mixing together as they dashed by. Dream was far too fast for him and he was sure that if the swordsman didn’t have such a tight grip on his wrist he would’ve fallen far behind by now.
Then again, as a prince George didn’t get much exercise anyway.
His eyes are drawn to the bark colored sheath strapped to Dream’s back, the easily accessible hilt of a sword peeking out from the top. He had never seen him fight seriously with it, only training spars with Sapnap—though they weren’t very exciting as the black haired fire mage wasn’t too skilled with a sword—the thought of seeing him battle seriously with the sharp weapon kind of scared the brunette prince.
A cry rings in his ears, the words unintelligible but the voice strikingly familiar. It was worried, laced with panic and getting progressively louder. Immediately, George tugs on Dream’s cloak.
“Do you hear that?” He asks, suppressing a sigh of relief as the blond slowed them down into a slow amble. His legs would be eternally grateful.
Dream tilts his head, straining to hear whatever it was that George had. It comes after another second of waiting.
“George! Dream!”
George gives a little cheer of relief, glad to see that their friend was okay. Dream makes a similar happy sound, tugging him in the direction of the call.
“SAPNAP!” The swordsman yells, the sheer volume of his voice easily ringing out over the mass of ambient chatter from the other people in the marketplace. George strains to see over the swarm of heads, once again cursing his short stature. Dream looks back at him as they push their way through the crowds. Much to his annoyance, his protector did not miss the disgruntled look on his face. The reason for his discontent is easily deciphered and Dream snickers—the white mask unchanging in its bland expression despite the owner’s obvious shift in demeanor.
George makes a point of not craning his head back to glare at the taller man like he usually had to when they were side by side like this. Instead, he settles for puffing his cheeks out angrily and staring daggers into the Dream’s back.
He catches sight of first the trademark white headband, then the disheveled black hair poking out over the tops of people’s heads. Dream seems to light up also, increasing their pace to catch up to their mage.
“Sapnap!” The blond yells when they are just a few feet behind the magic user. Dream’s hand lands on the other’s shoulder.
George chortles when Sapnap flinches, clearly caught off-guard. He whirls around with wide eyes, taking in first the sight of his mischievous comrade and then the equally sly prince they were protecting.
“What—the hell—Dream!” He exclaims loudly, “Jesus, you scared me half to death!”
“Sorry.” Dream chuckles unapologetically. Now in the presence of the third member of their party, George is suddenly acutely aware of the rough fingers curling around his wrist. It was embarrassing—really—that he was reacting so dramatically about something so small. Luckily he doesn’t have time to ponder over it as Dream’s tone flattens into a serious, low mutter. “We have to get out of this city. It’s not safe.”
“They’re not chasing you, are they?” Sapnap asks, suddenly alert and wary of their surroundings. The fire mage straightened to peer over the crowd, searching for any suspicious figures.
“I don’t know.” The masked man replies honestly, “They lost us when I pulled me and George into an alleyway, but I have no idea if they noticed.”
“Let’s hope not.” Sapnap mutters under his breath before nodding in agreement, “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”
George stays silent, his mind wandering to recall their threatening pursuers. He had only caught a glimpse of them once or twice before his view had been obscured. What he had managed to see wasn’t much though. The only defining features were black cloaks they wore and the green scarfs pulled around their lower face. Other than that, they seemed to be dressed like any other civilian.
He had locked eyes with one of them just before Dream had dragged him into the swarming mass of passersby. Shining within the attacker’s narrow magenta eyes was a storm of hatred and disdain, something even George could see despite his limited expertise with expression reading. It had scared him—what could he have done to deserve such raw, unadulterated hatred? The prince had suddenly become hyper aware of the way he talked to people—from his facial expressions to the tone he had and even how he stood.
Dream pulls back, slowing down to walk beside them as Sapnap keeps a lookout for danger at the front of their trio. His mask had been pulled to the side again, resting at its usual place at the side of his head. The dark green hood stays covering his hair.
“Are you okay?” He asks softly. His eyes are uncharacteristically gentle, sympathy shining within the whirling kaleidoscope of greens.
George nods cheerfully, “Of course I am!” He chirps, almost wincing at the blatantly fake happiness oozing from his words. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
His friend’s lips press into a thin line of disapproval. “George.” He says sternly, like a mother hen caring for her chick, “You don’t have to lie to me.”
George sighs and shrugs, pursing his lips as he stares down at the ground. “Does it matter?” He asks, kicking a few pebbles on the ground. He felt like a child having a tantrum—but he couldn’t help being angry. “All I do is drag you and Sapnap into danger.”
“That’s not true!” He receives a deadpan stare from brunette, “Okay, maybe it’s a little bit true--but that doesn’t matter!” He adds on hastily, gathering a few looks of annoyance from others at his loud voice. The glares are promptly ignored. “You’re my friend, George.”
“That doesn’t change anything.” He points out. Dream gapes at him, his eyes wide before they narrow into determined slits. The swordsman takes a breath, tugging the prince out of the way of a horse.
“George,” he begins, “you are wonderful. You’re handsome and you’re kind—you’re funny and you’re a great friend.” George sucks in a breath, trying to cool the redness that was slowly starting to color his cheeks. He glances away as Dream continues on, spitting out word after word of compliments, “It’s not you causing the trouble, it’s them . You are— were a good prince, they’re just angry bastards who’re desperate for some money.”
His chest twists in delight, his heart skipping a beat at the sincere words. Those coupled with the way Dream’s head inclined to peer down at him and how his freckled features had softened into a small smile—it made warmth bloom in his stomach like a field sunflowers during the summer. God, he wonders if Dream could hear the violent thrum of his heart hammering against his rib cage. That would be embarrassing.
He doesn’t respond, opting to rather stare at the ground with pursed lips to stop a beaming smile from stretching across his face. They had long since cleared the marketplace and stepped onto quiet roads, steadily making their way to the edge of the small city. The forest comes into view, the luscious green foliage peeking over the tops of the houses. Sapnap slows to walk beside his two other friends, humming softly.
“Where to next, unofficial leader?” He asks, glancing at the green cloaked swordsman out of the corner of his eyes. He walks carelessly, hands resting behind his head as he strolled along.
Dream rolls his eyes, choosing not to comment on Sapnap’s playful statement, “I was thinking Arcora next.” He answers.
“The fishing town?” The fire mage gasps dramatically, “You know I hate water!”
“And that’s why you never wash.” George pipes up, wrinkling his nose in disgust.
Dream snickers, covering his nose with his hand. “Eww, stinky Sapnap. Get away from me!”
Instead of getting playfully defensive like George has thought he would, Sapnap dons a shit-eating grin, pointing his magical staff at his two friends, “And that’s why you should be nice to me, or else I’ll make you smell my feet!”
George snorts, the quick exhale of breath morphing into a series of giggles. Dream is in a similar state, clutching his side as he wheezes for breath. Abruptly, a young boy races by, chased after by similarly dressed children. The boy was clearly not paying attention to his surroundings as heading straight for the brunette. Dream recovers enough to tug George out of the way, his rough hand slipping into his softer, smaller one.
The brunette glances at him, seeing the blond’s mirthful green orbs fixated on him as a grin stretched across his lips. George wasn’t quite sure if the grin was because of him or Sapnap’s joke. He gave a shy smile back, cheeks dusting in pink at the thought of Dream looking at him (him—of all people!) and smiling.
He watches Dream’s smile soften from one of entertainment into an affectionate one. His stomach curls at the sight—seeing Dream’s usually sharp eyes staring at him with such soft, unrestrained warmth lit a fire in his chest that he had never before experienced.
Strangely enough, even as the swordsman turns back to chat with Sapnap, he does not let go of the prince’s hand. Their fingers are not intertwined— If Sapnap saw them God knows they would never hear the end of it —but Dream’s thumb caresses slow circles on the back of George’s hand. Predictably, like whenever Dream made contact with him, his heart thrums against his chest. He was only half listening to Sapnap and Dream’s conversation, unable to focus through the hurricane of thoughts in his head screaming ‘ OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD’ and ‘AM I DREAMING?’
The swordsman laughs at a joke, the sound angel-like to brunette as his side. They don’t pay him any mind, not forcing him to join the conversation but not making him feel left out either. To be treated this way, like he just another person….it felt nice. He didn’t have to worry about his reputation when he cracked a joke, and he didn’t need to watch how he looked at certain people—he didn’t feel like his friends just liked him for his (now abandoned) position as the crown prince. With Dream and Sapnap, he wasn’t Prince George III of Cerus. He was just George—occasionally Georgie to Sapnap—resident danger magnet and nothing else.
Looking back now, they were an odd bunch. A runaway prince, wanted knight, and a sometimes maniacal fire mage. The thought that such an odd group could get along so well made him smile, a soft sentimental one that didn’t slip under Dream’s radar. Not missing a beat in the playful conversation he held with Sapnap, the blond squeezes his hand slightly. George smiles.
Being a prince was overrated anyway.