Chapter Text
George stared through the large windows of his bedroom, his gaze landing on dark clouds and grey mountains. It hadn’t stopped raining since the war started, and the kingdom had, bit by bit, been drained of its usual vibrance.
War will do that to a nation; it tends to soak up the life of everything in sight. It had been a long time since there had been any displays of emotion through the kingdom. Sure, there were occasional bursts of happiness here and there, but it never lasted long. Although George’s high status meant he could barely experience for himself the true struggles of the citizens, he still felt remorse for those whose family members were constantly leaving for war. His own father didn’t even attend all the battles, yet every time the king left, George would be desperately waiting to see if he would return safely.
He couldn’t deal with that pain a third time. This first agony of death was unbearable, not to mention the second that had come creeping up so unexpectedly. The young prince couldn’t even comprehend what had happened until after the funeral.
George shook his head aggressively, brushing off his thoughts. Not him, not now. He sighed and interlocked his long fingers together, resting his chin on his thumbs. How long would it be till the next time someone else goes and leaves him bitter and broken? Intrusive thoughts filled George's head, one after the other. It is times like these when George is alone that his self-destruction starts escaping the iron bars of his heart. Maybe I should go for a walk, get some fresh air.
Prince George heaved his slim body off of his canopied bed and pushed open the wooden doors of his bedroom.
“S-sir!” A squeaky voice called out from the left of him.
George turned to see a flimsy-looking palace guard that could barely hold up his armor. “Yes?”
“You shouldn’t be leaving on your own, it’s getting dark out.” The newly recruited knight stared awkwardly, trying not to drop his gear. "Shouldn't you have someone protecting you right now?"
"I'm not a child. I can walk around perfectly fine in my own home."
"Uh, um sorry, Your Highness. It's just that His Majesty said you were supposed to meet someone later." He stared at his feet, clearly uncomfortable.
"With whom am I meant to meet? I don’t recall any orders to stay put.”
"Something about a new personal guard."
“Well, I won’t be gone for long so I'll be leaving now." He insisted.
Before he could get a reply, George turned away and left down the hall. Neophytes hardly ever had the confidence to talk back to someone like George in the first few months of working. The gentle beat of rain echoed as he walked. George whistled a quiet tune as he strolled down the halls and through the entrance of the courtyard, feeling slightly better once out of the confinements of his room.
The downpour worsened as George stepped out into the open. Loud drops of rain battered the leftover water in the nearly dried-up fountain, sitting lonely in the courtyard. As he stared at the dull stone statue, his knees caved in without warning and George crashed to the ground. He ran his fingers through his hair, straightening out his slight curls as they dampened. What am I doing? I can’t do anything right. George turned to lean against the base of the statue. Staring up at his mother’s joyous smile, he threw his hands onto his face, slicking his soaked, dark brown hair back and tightening his grip. Would you be proud of me, Mother? Am I the man you wanted me to be?
“I wish you were here,” George mumbled to himself. “I wish both of you were here.”
The young man let out a pained groan and cursed out at the sky above. At the same time, he heard two sets of footsteps coming from the peristyle. George turned his head awkwardly to the side to see the Knight Commander, accompanied by a masked man turning the corner past the courtyard. George could sense the glare radiating out from under the mask of the unknown blonde. Eyes glued to the back of his ragged green top, George watched the muscles ripple under the fabric as he disappeared down the hall. He disliked the unfamiliar pull towards the man and cursed again as he became self-conscious.
On his knees in the middle of a rather empty courtyard, drenched in rain, yelling at some unknown god, looking like a complete moron, George realized how strange he must have seemed to the others. Fortunately, one of the perks of being the Prince was that nobody ever questioned you. God, I’m such an idiot. I look like a bloody prat or something, don’t I? Sighing, he stood up and made his way back to his room.
A sense of relief and calmness flowed back into George’s shivering body as he walked back in the direction he had come from. The anxious guard had stayed at the end of the corridor, waiting. He tried not to make a face at how soaked the Prince was, but let out a shaky breath when he saw that George was fine and that he would not be fired almost immediately after getting hired. George gave him a nod before returning to his bedroom.
He pulled the dripping plain shirt off his body, leaving a moist sheen on the clammy skin. George’s body was even colder and paler than it was a few months ago. He quickly pulled on a clean, warm top to cover his bare body. George layered the shirt with more formal clothing, remembering he was meant to meet someone later. It would be unacceptable if the guest's first impression of him was of a sopping wet mess.
George's head turned sharply at the prompt sound of knocking.
"Come in," he answered.
The large, double wooden doors opened loudly with a heavy push. George’s eyes widened as the guest strode in, accompanied by the awkward knight.
"Your Highness, your father has assigned you a new personal guard. He's just arrived from the northern regions of the kingdom and wasn’t trained in our regular training facility, but apparently he's very skilled."
George nodded at the knight and he left quickly, leaving the Prince and his new guard alone.
Standing in front of him was the very man he had seen earlier. The one who had witnessed George having his weekly existential crisis, George realized with embarrassment. He looked the tall guard up and down a few times. He wore a round, white mask over his face. It had a simple, smiling face on it, which was funny, but also somehow intimidating.
George grew tense, not wanting to address the earlier situation. He scoffed. "What is this, a costume party?"
"No,” the man said plainly. “I just don't ever take the mask off. Not even for you."
"Is that any way to talk to a prince?" George glared.
"You're just another employer, don't think that means you have my respect."
The guard's smiling mask mocked George silently. They had barely met for a minute and the man was already getting under George's skin. George clenched his fists hard, digging his nails into his palms, trying to stop their first conversation from going wrong.
The seconds ticked by as the two men stood facing each other.
"Well, at least tell me your name"
"Dream. You can call me Dream."