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In the beginning, it was them.
George can’t bring himself to dwell on the past, and thoughts of their days in the community house always tug at the back of his mind. If there’s anything he’s learned, it’s that all you can do is keep your chin up and look to the future.
The future, at the moment, is looking quite shit.
Dream has requested his presence for some vaguely important, nondescript meeting. Wouldn't be the first time; it's not like Dream communicates with him these days. No, these days, George only sees him when there's trouble to be had and tears to be shed. Sitting here by Sapnap's side in waiting, he has a feeling this won't be good.
He just hopes whatever poor soul that gets subjected to Dream's will meets a better fate later on.
"You know he doesn't care about us, right?"
Sapnap's words are an outburst. He has the look of someone who's been holding that in for days.
"What?" George asks.
"He doesn't care about us. Either of us. You know that, right?"
Sapnap is watching him, he can see it from his peripheral vision. George doesn't want to look.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he replies in his most collected tone.
"Dream is using us. Both of us. And I'm tired of pretending I'm not rotting inside," Sapnap says.
"Whatever you're upset about, we can discuss it later."
Sapnap grabs him by the hand, and George gives in to his pleading gaze. He looks older, more worn than George remembers.
"I can't watch you keep smiling through this bullshit. We can't trust Dream like we used to, do you understand?" Sapnap asks.
"That's not true," George says. It even sounds unsure leaving his lips.
"Then why does he spend all his time fighting wars with children? Why did he foster the destruction of our home? Our home, that we built? When was the last time you talked, and I mean really talked to him?"
"If we don't talk it's because I won't go to him," George says.
"Why? Why won't you go to him?" Sapnap asks. George chews his lip. "You're terrified of Dream. You fucking should be!"
"Lower your voice! Don't say something like that, he could be listening."
Sapnap grimaces as if to ask "do you hear yourself ?" George digs his fingernails into the wood path.
"Listen. There's nothing we can do about it. Lord knows how he would react if we said anything. It's easier this way"
"Are you kidding me? It's not easier to live life like you're drowning. I had to every day you two were-" Sapnap stops himself, forcing his eyes away. It takes a few moments for him to compose his thoughts. "We need to stop settling for misery. Safety isn't worth the expense of freedom."
"Did we ever have freedom? We ran from a kingdom and carried its legacy with us. Petty battles and choosing sides. There was no escaping that fate," George says.
His hand feels numb from Sapnap's grip. Staring out at the towers and castles of yonder is easier than facing Sapnap's broken expression. The dreams they came to this land with are gone. All that remains are ghosts and politics.
He didn't think he would miss tedious work and construction with Dream this much. Even the little things- the new callouses forming on his hand, the boot prints he left by the door.
George hates that he's lamenting Dream like a passed loved one. He might as well be.
“I wish I could ask him for a piece of wisdom right now. He was always waxing poetic, telling me the most wonderful things. When he wrote poems for me, it was like he was giving me the world,” George says.
"What did it feel like? Hearing him spin words like gold, just for you?" Sapnap asks. His jaw is tense.
"Like the world was a canvas, and I his palette, his paint, and his muse. It felt… complete. Like I had purpose."
Sapnap shouldn't look so dejected.
"How about you?" George asks. "What did it feel like for you?"
He appears caught off-guard by that.
"He never wrote me anything. Not like that," Sapnap says, decidedly bitter.
"Sure he did. What do you mean? There was that one he was really proud of, how did it go? Let me be your light?" George says.
If Sapnap wasn’t stunned before, he is now.
"What?”
“Yeah, he recited it to me once. Said he was… what was the word? Inspired. He said he was inspired by you.”
“That- that wasn't for me. I’m sure of it," Sapnap says.
"Are you? Or do you just not want it to be? Because then, it’s easier to hate him? Because then it’s more black and white?” George says. He doesn’t mean it to come out as accusatory as it does.
“Of course it’s easy for you to say that. He fucking adored you. It’s always been black and white, I’m the only one who’s stopped pussyfooting around it,” Sapnap spits out. Just like that, he gets up and leaves.
Dream loved Sapnap, he's sure of it. It’s not like he imagined the nights he laid awake, envious of their friendship. Dream and Sapnap grew up together, and no matter what, they had something George would never come close to. He remembers how willing he was to give anything- just to have that.
Remember? How long it’s been since he’s remembered.
The prospect of recollecting what once was whisks him away, and he’s powerless to stop it.
George is no longer in this place, in this time.
First, he remembers where Dream’s hand rests on his hip, the other on his shoulder. His breath is warm on the back of his neck. Emotions awaken in him that he left buried long ago.
“You’re getting the hang of this.”
Dream’s voice used to be so different. So delicate.
“I’m really not,” George replies. Each time he holds a sword, it feels just as heavy as that first time.
“Be steady in your hand and steadfast in your love,” Dream says, in a spur of the moment prose. Words always flowed out of him so effortlessly. “You’ll need to swing heavy and hard someday. Someday I won’t be there to protect you, and neither will Sapnap."
“Sapnap will always be there to protect you,” George mutters.
“He’ll want to be. But every day this place grows. Such is building something bigger than yourself- you can’t control its fate. A nation lives and breathes, it takes on a life of its own. Our place in its future? We can’t quite predict that.”
“Promise me anyway,” George says, stubbornly.
Dream laughs, almost doleful.
“I can’t exactly-”
“I don’t care. Promise me anyway.”
George holds his sword at his side, looking up at Dream expectantly. He has a point, but that doesn’t matter. A life without Dream isn’t one he wants to live.
“Alright. I promise I’ll always be there.”
“Good. I’ll hold you to that,” George says.
The expression on Dream’s face is one he wishes he could capture on paper, in words, any form at all. He looks both bewildered and impressed.
“Every time I think you can’t test me,” Dream muses.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” George asks.
“Nothing. Every day I spend with you is a pleasant surprise. You should speak your mind more,” Dream replies.
George's smile falls.
"You know I- it's not that simple."
They weren't much younger when they met, it must've been years ago, now. One thing he'd always relied on Dream for was venting about the pressures of princehood. He trusted him with every cruel lesson he endured, things he internalized until they became part of him.
"It will be. We left all that behind. Focus on the now," Dream reassures him.
This is how George wants to remember him. Immortalized in his compassion, his altruism, the things George knew him to be. The things he no longer is.
It's almost as if Dream’s been dead for ages, and all that remains is a husk.
George wouldn't be surprised.
"Hey. It's time to go," Sapnap calls from afar, breaking him out of his state. The world feels grey now, the present not nearly as warm as the past. This is why he doesn't remember. George follows him to Tommy's house, praying his hopes for the better won't be in vain.
Once he arrives, that front isn't looking good.
“We had our disagreements. I would like you to be king again,” Dream says.
He's facing Eret. It barely registers what's happening here.
“I know that sounds ridiculous, but I’ll tell you why-"
“I’m still king. I’m- I’m right here,” George interjects. It's not fair, this isn't fair.
“Listen, George-”
“ I’m right here -”
“Shush.” Dream says. “Eret, you and your actions showed that you were loyal, and that you were caring, and that you were a good friend, and a good ruler. And that was good, I think you were very well-behaved. I was mad because you didn’t listen to me. But, the reason you were king was not because you listened to me. The reason you were king was because you did what was right.”
As if he cares about what’s right. Right isn’t giving your friend a title only to tear it away the moment he finally accepts it. George is many things, but a fool is not one of them. He wonders if things would’ve been easier if he didn’t bother with the benefit of the doubt.
“That’s why you betrayed L’manberg in the first place, because you thought it was right. So I want to appoint you back as king. George took your place temporarily, and he did a good job, but he’s been getting attacked. You’re not like George, you’re not right behind me. You’re not gonna back up everything I do.”
That’s what George is. His backup. His right hand. His patsy.
“I’m very much... neutral,” Eret says.
“Which is exactly the point of the king, like I said. Neutral.” Dream replies.
This is it, then. It’s like he’s not even there. He just now notices the crossbow Sapnap is pointing square between Dream’s eyes.
“The king didn’t step down,” he says. His words are vitriol. George can’t tell if he’s ever seen him this angry.
“George, George. You can give your blessing. That way- I mean it’s- you’re not-” Dream stammers, evidently looking for a way to say this. “First of all, what did you do as king? You didn’t do any decrees or anything.”
Despite Dream’s floundering, it still manages to wound him. It might be wrong of him to fight the loss of a crown he never wanted. Somehow it still feels like Dream is taking something from him, and all he can do is helplessly try to defend it.
“I’ve been the best king this server has ever had,” George protests.
“I agree. But, you’ve also been the least safe king. You just get attacked all the time because people don’t like you.”
People don't like you.
George wants to be angry. He wants to be able to wreck something, burn something, like all the others can. But now, even feeling betrayed, all he can muster up is miserable, crushing angst. Feelings of guilt. Feelings of debt.
A speech he heard time and time again, from what feels like a lifetime ago, it’s blaring in his head.
There is no weakness fit for a king. Cower, and you lose. Lie, if you must. Never falter in your apathy.
The hand Dream places on his shoulder feels cold, just as his father’s did.
“I- I worded that wrong, people don’t like me, and therefore they don’t like you because you’re behind me and you’re my friend,” Dream
Friends? Are they even that, now? George stares at the grass beneath his feet, his chest feeling oddly cold and numb as the world begins to sway. There’s a silent ringing in his ears as the group around him grows in volume. He forcefully grounds himself back to reality to try and grasp what they’re saying.
“Listen, I’m not demoting him. He wasn’t king before, he didn’t even-”
“He’s king now,” Sapnap says.
“No he’s not. Eret’s king now,” Dream replies, resolute.
“George, I think this is for the best,” Punz tries to console him.
“It is for the best. It keeps him the safest,” Dream agrees.
Everyone chimes in with their empty sympathies. It feels like pity. They’re all trying to let him down easy, but George has already fallen. Sapnap clearly isn’t content with that, now loading up his crossbow.
“Sapnap, you’ve always been- why are you- Sapnap, stop this. You’re purposefully trying to divide us,” Dream says.
“I’m not dividing anyone. I stand by George.” Sapnap pushes further as Dream tries to interrupt. “He’s my king, but most importantly, he’s my friend.”
“Yeah, he’s my friend too, but he’s not my king. Eret’s my king. If you’re going to be part of our team, you need to recognize that. George is soundly on our side.”
Sapnap is poised to challenge Dream, eyes studying the eerie smile staring back from his mask. He must’ve come to a different conclusion because he lowers his weapon in defeat.
“Whatever George decides I’ll stick with him.”
The show of solidarity almost breaks him. Sapnap, the one person who showed his unconditional support since the beginning. Despite their battles, it was Sapnap who stayed when he needed him. He’d take that over someone who puts up a facade of niceties when it benefits him.
Oh god. The world feels like it’s crashing down on him. George feels like he’s made a terrible, terrible mistake.
The voices around him go bleary again.
“-And his house got griefed!” Dream yells.
The concern in his tone sounds so impossibly forced. He doesn’t want to remember when he sounded like a choir, noble and true. He doesn’t want to remember how soft his touch was, how loving his eyes.
“George is sad,” Captain Puffy says woefully.
“He isn’t even sad, he’s just pretending,” Dream says, audibly rolling his eyes. “George, stop playing.”
Everyone crowds closer to him, and it gets more and more difficult to suppress his emotions. They all try to catch a glimpse of his face, almost corralling him, and it’s suffocating. He waits until they lose interest, assuming the defensive.
Dream makes toward the castle, and like sheep, they follow.
He can barely muster the strength to drag his feet along the prime path, eyes fixed on the grooves and dips of the wood. Eret seems content to return to his position; Dream seems unbothered about his decision. Not once does his smile falter.
George lets a whimper slip out, clamping a hand over his mouth. Dream practically scoffs.
“George, listen, you’re just proving you shouldn’t be king. You’re being a baby."
“You can just leave him alone, Dream. You’ve done enough,” Sapnap snaps at him.
Hard eyes soften when they land on George. Sapnap offers his elbow, ever the gentleman, and he appreciates it greatly.
Sapnap has the resolve and patience of a sturdy old oak, unyielding to the will of adversity. George admires that in him, how he appears so larger-than-life. Whatever they face, all he has to do is ask, and he has Sapnap to lean on.
Underneath the hardened lour of a grizzled knight lives the loyalty and compassion of a friend. Through all the wars and bloodshed, it remained there, gold at his center.
At George's center is a doormat.
A very, very stubborn one.
When he reaches Eret’s castle, he looks at the empty space at the end of the hall, chewing his lip. As petty as it is, he builds a dirt throne out of spite, sitting in it one last time. Sapnap stands at his side, expression unreadable.
George only stays as long as he needs to. The moment Dream’s attention shifts to his conversation, he takes his leave. George runs past the castle with his arms to his chest and overhears a final sentence to Eret from beyond the walls.
“It’s like you never left.”
George stops to catch his breath, leaning against a tree.
A tree? He takes a look around and realizes he's deep into the forest, not quite sure how or when he got here.
It's quiet out, all the wildlife are hushed for the night, nothing but the rustling of wayward leaves for miles around. George sinks to his knees, squeezing his eyes shut in hopes that he'll open them to someplace better.
"Hey."
He cowers until he sees Sapnap hovering cautiously above him.
"How did you- how did you find me?"
"I come out here sometimes, into the woods. It's peaceful out here. Untouched," he replies. "Why are you out here?"
"I don't know, I had to get out of there, I had to run, I just needed to get away," George stammers.
"You're a long way away from civilization. It's been hours, George. What was your plan?" Sapnap asks.
He's been out here for hours?
"I don't have a plan, I'm just sitting here, okay?"
"So what, you were going to strand yourself in the wilderness? Maybe starve to death? What, is this your little act of protest?" Sapnap asks, gritting his teeth.
"I don't know, I don't care. I give up."
"You don't get to give up."
They face off in a stare, George clinging to his knees in defiance. Eventually, Sapnap's furrowed eyebrows settle, so he shuffles next to him and sits down.
The whistling breeze weaves through the spruce, George slowly becoming aware of his body. The anxious energy mellows out, quelling in the places where Sapnap is leaning against him. He feels the sun on his face, solid earth beneath him.
After his breathing has stilled, Sapnap offers him a hand.
"Let's get you home."
George gladly takes it.
As they trudge through the forest, crushed pine needles in their wake, stray raindrops crescendo into a leaden downpour. The pair hobble into the closest refuge they can find, an abandoned wood shack with enough of a roof to shelter them. It could’ve been a home once; with all the warfare this country has faced, it’s destroyed beyond recognition.
George strips to his linens and wrings out his clothes, shivering something fierce. Sapnap stands like a sentinel by the door.
“You were right, I didn’t want you to be right,” George says.
“There’s no right and wrong anymore. We just need to survive,” Sapnap replies.
“It's so hard to remain composed, I'm trying to remain composed, but it's all just crashing down on me," George mutters. He glances to the side and notices Sapnap still donning all his armor.
“It’s freezing out, take this off,” he says, going to place a hand on his chest plate. Sapnap grabs his wrist in a knee-jerk response. His grip is crushing. His eyes go cold before he sees what he’s doing, and immediately lets go.
“Fuck. I- fuck. Fuck . I didn’t mean to. Goddamnit-”
George strangely isn’t afraid.
He doesn’t flinch, in fact, he takes a step forward. The throbbing shooting up his arm goes ignored.
“Why don’t you take your armor off around me?” George asks.
“I don’t take my armor off around anyone,” Sapnap replies.
“Even me?”
Sapnap takes his wrist again, gently this time, and rubs apologetic circles with his thumb.
“I- It’s not about that. I only did around-”
“Dream,” George says. “You were only vulnerable around Dream.”
He doesn’t reply, but his eyes say enough.
“I know how it feels, Sapnap. The way he can make you feel. Like you’re worth something. And now that he’s this, this thing-”
“It makes you wonder if any of it was real,” Sapnap adds.
George steps in closer, moving slowly as one would approach a lion, wary that he’ll spook. Sapnap tenses up and makes him pause.
“We’re the only people who know what the other has been through, we’re all we have. It doesn’t bother you that we’re only here, like this, because of, what? Shared trauma?” Sapnap asks.
“Maybe. But right now, this is enough. So take it off. Talk to me,” George replies.
It appears Sapnap is frozen for a moment. And then, like one long sigh, his netherite drops to the floor, and so does he. George joins him, sitting back-to-back, supporting each other’s weight.
“I think you force yourself to be quiet, I see it in your face,” Sapnap says.
“I think you put walls up, and you carry every bad thing you’ve ever done on your shoulders,” George says.
“I think we’re two pining, helpless idiots. When I thought I wanted us to be closer, this isn’t what I meant,” Sapnap chuckles.
“I think I’m in mourning of the past. I can’t fathom that the days of the three of us are over, so I’ve spent the last several months being numb. When I saw Dream today, it’s like the wool was lifted from my eyes,” George says.
“I think Dream is in love with you. I think he’s yours.”
“I was always his. He was never mine.”
George opens his mouth to laugh and breaks out into heaving sobs, shaking against Sapnap’s back. The latter turns around and holds him, and George feels silent teardrops wet his own hair.
The storming outside has settled into a gentle rain, the universe seeming to take pity on the heartsick, fragments of former men. It’s a temporary solution, a band-aid on an open wound. For now, they can slot these broken pieces together to feel a little more complete.
So for now, they cry in each other’s arms and feel a little less alone.