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When George was nine years old he got married to Dream.
It wasn’t a real wedding. It was simply just a group of boys messing around in the forest behind the castle with wildflowers and sticks, guarded by knights. None of them were old enough to truly grasp what weddings were, but Dream’s older brother had just gotten married and the excitement from the large event had prompted the kids to reenact their own down by the lake.
They had run off shortly after the ceremony at the king’s request, after Sapnap had hidden behind a curtain that was much too close to a candle on the wall and nearly caused a fire.
They were down by the lake they always played at, the sun high in the sky without a cloud in sight. The long grass had been trampled down by them days earlier when they were playing tag.
“Come on George, I need to practice!” Dream had claimed, grabbing the other boy’s hand in his own and dragging him down closer to the lake they were playing around, “Dad says I’m going to have a wedding of my own one day and I need to be ready!”
He was only eight at the time. His crown sat lopsided on his head—much too big for it. Likewise, his shoes still had enough room in the toes that he had tripped several times on their walk down to the spot. George was dressed in the fanciest clothes his father could afford and they hung off of him like sheets.
“Ew, no way! Marry Sapnap or something!” George had scoffed, crossing his arms.
“Gross! You marry him!” seven-year-old Sapnap shot back, looking up from the drawing he was sketching into the dirt just long enough to flash George a disgusted look.
Somehow despite his protests, George found himself marrying Dream anyway. Even back then, George had a hard time saying no to him.
They had found a larger rock down by the lake, so big that they could barely see over it. Sapnap stood behind it, only able to see the other two because of the rock they had carried over, and even then only the top half of his face peeked over. The rock was old and covered in green moss and dirt, but to the kids, it was as grand and beautiful as the alter they had seen at the wedding.
George and Dream stood on the other side of it, facing each other but several feet apart, marked by sticks placed on the grass. After all, they were kids and utterly disgusted by any form of affection even if it was just for pretend.
Karl, who was much too busy wandering and picking flowers to hear the start of the discussion, had weaved George a flower crown out of twigs and leaves and whatever decent wildflowers he could find. Like Dream’s crown, it was much too big. The flowers kept falling down his head and onto the bridge of his nose every time he moved slightly. Threaded into his brown curls were strands of long straw grass because Sapnap insisted it was supposed to represent long hair. Most of it had fallen out before the “ceremony” had begun.
“Dream, do you take George to be your queen?” Sapnap asked the two of them at the start of the ceremony. None of them had paid any attention at the actual wedding and so instead they recited words they thought made sense.
“I do!” Dream beamed, hands on his hips with the proudest smile.
“George, do you take Dream to be your king?”
“I do,” George said, though his words were a little more disgusted and reluctant, mad that he had to be the girl.
“You are now king and queen!” Sapnap shouted, and Karl clapped from the audience. The noise prompted a flock of birds to fly out of the tree above the rock, disturbed by the loud sounds.
“Now you kiss!” Karl added.
“Gross!” Dream grimaced.
“Ew!” George said at the same time.
The shift in the mood prompted the kids to all burst out into fits of laughter. It would be soon after that when they were told to head back in for a feast. The flower crown would be thrown on top of the rock and then tossed into the grass later by the winds where it was left to wilt away.
Their little pretend wedding would become a distant memory.
When George was nineteen Dream was set to be married again.
This time in the castle, in the very same room that Dream’s older brother was married in all those years ago. Instead of the mossy rock, the altar was carved from wood, smooth and cold to the touch. Though, it made George’s skin burn. This time the only flowers were the ones embroidered onto the white wedding dress the princess would be wearing.
This time it wasn’t George who Dream was set to be married to.
This time George wished it was.
It was only a day before the wedding. Though the wedding had been planned for a long time, since George was eleven and since Dream was ten, George couldn’t help but wish that he had more time.
The bride was from an island just off the coast, her name was Margaery. The name meant pearl, and George was reluctant to admit that she was just as elegant and beautiful as the stone she was named after. She had pretty pink cheeks and a smile that lit up a whole room, infatuating anyone who had the chance to meet her. The first time Dream had met her, he had claimed she was the most beautiful girl in all of the kingdoms. Although he did so with a bitter tongue, George agreed.
The preparations for the wedding had only made the entire thing feel more real, it was no longer just words thrown around or contracts inscribed on paper with royal signatures. The hanging of the banners and the scrubbing of the floors each brought the whole event closer, and although the castle was almost completely prepared for the wedding, George himself was no wear near. It had been ten years since he learned about the contract, and now it was no longer just a contract.
George stood at the end of the long red aisle, hands laced together in the same position as they would be in if he was holding a bouquet of flowers. They were empty.
He wished to be anywhere else.
He could have easily slipped away; he was insignificant, no one would notice his absence. He could have run out to the woods or down to the village, he could have gone anywhere. Still, he stayed.
Dream stood on the other end, hands running along the wood of the altar, tracing every single detail with his fingertips as his father talked to him. Though Dream’s attention was focused elsewhere; head turned to look through the stained glass artwork and eyes flickering over every single detail.
The golden glow of the afternoon sun peeked in through the window, hitting just right so that George could see every detail of the prince; blonde curls that had been cut so short he could no longer tuck them behind his ears, straight jawline that had been freshly shaved for the first time in years, eyes as green as the emeralds in the crown that sat on top of his head.
The brightness of the sun didn’t compare to that of the smile that curved onto Dream’s lips the second his eye’s landed on George.
For a second, they locked eyes, and could not look away from each other.
For a second, a cruel second, George imagined that it was what it would be like if things were different. He wondered what if Dream would give him the same smile, or maybe it would even be brighter. He let himself imagine that there were hundreds of people lined along the aisle and the organ was playing the sweet melody.
The second didn’t last very long, and he was brought back to reality.
Dream held a hand up to his father, and George could only faintly make out that he was saying he had enough, and before the burnet knew it Dream was happily parading down the aisle towards him.
“I was hoping you’d come.” Dream said when he had reached George, wasting no time to grab the brunet’s hand and drag him along, “I thought I’d never have an excuse to leave.”
George obliged, eyes distracted on the way their hands linked together. He wasn’t too sure where they were going, but it didn’t matter much to him anyway, he would let Dream take him anywhere.
“I thought you were busy,” George said, and he couldn’t help the thick bitterness that bled through his tone. “Shouldn’t you be rehearsing your vows or talking with your wife?”
“Not my wife.” Dream was quick to deny, the unspoken yet laid heavy in the air, “And there wasn’t much to do, really.”
He pulled George through a set of large wooden doors, and George had to shield his eyes, blinded by the light. They were outside, on a balcony George had never been to before, overlooking the entire kingdom. It was small, tucked away between large walls on either side, and it overlooked the valley and forest, not the kingdom like most of the others did.
George rested his hands on the railing, wood warm from the sunlight. Dream stood beside him, much closer than appropriate though he didn’t seem to care. George couldn’t help but notice the way their shoulders pressed together, and the way that Dream’s fingers brushed over his hand before he rested it beside his on the railing.
Each point of contact, even if it was just barely, sent sparks through George that he wished he could ignore. Maybe if he had been stronger, he would have moved away, would have made space, but the warmth made him press in closer to Dream. He couldn’t bring himself to care about the formalities either.
Their story, his and Dream’s, was complicated.
“Besides,” Dream spoke up, “I would much rather spend my time with ”
George felt his heart leap into his throat as Dream said the sentence so casually. His eyes darted around, searching to see if there was anyone who could have possibly heard.
There wasn’t. They were alone.
“You shouldn’t say things like that,” George muttered.
“But it’s true.” Dream said.
He reached his arm around George, fingers grazing over the exposed skin on the other’s neck and then coming to rest against his upper arm. George hated the way that his breath hitched at the touch, and the way his heartbeat quickened as Dream pulled him closer. The gesture could have been seen as platonic to anybody else, but to them, it was anything but.
Their story was complicated.
It started much earlier, years earlier, two boys sitting on the logs in the forest talking about crushes. Then it became much more than that. George wasn’t sure when he had fallen in love with Dream, there wasn’t an exact moment in time that he could pinpoint. It had happened slowly, gradually—it wasn’t much like a fall at all.
Their first kiss in the castle gardens. It was after a large event, they were fifteen and had stolen two bottles of wine from the table and slipped out the backdoors. George could almost remember it all—the way it made his heart jump, the way he melted into it, and when it stopped the only thing he wanted was for it to happen again. Perhaps that was the start of it all, truly. Perhaps it was a little silly that it seemed so easy.
Falling in love with Dream was easy.
Too easy.
It was everything else that made it hard.
“You’re to be wed tomorrow,” George mumbled, looking over at the blond.
He wasn’t sure if it was meant as a reminder for Dream, or a reminder for himself.
“I am.” Dream said. His eyes flickered down to the railing, and the sly smirk that he had before slowly disappeared off of his face.
George couldn’t help but notice.
When they were kids, after Dream had met the princess for the first time, Dream used to gush about the wedding they would have. He was always so excited; to be married, to have a wife and maybe kids, to rule a kingdom. As he grew older the excitement was replaced with nervousness, and even then he would talk about the day he got married with a smile on his face.
Even with everything between him and George, he always saw the wedding as something positive.
It was the first time he said those words with an undeniable and certain dread.
Maybe the realization about what was going to happen had finally caught up with him.
For a moment, the air between them was silent, tense, and only interrupted by the small breeze whistling against the stone bricks and wooden pillars. Then, slowly, Dream grabbed George’s hand from where it was resting on the railing, and hesitantly he brought it to his lips. The small kiss lingered, and his eyes flickered back up to meet George’s.
He pulled back slowly, and just barely above a whisper, mumbled, “But you know that if I had a choice I would much rather be marrying you.”
Their story was much too complicated.
“She’s a princess. She’s gorgeous. She is everything you deserve.” George bargained, “I don’t even begin to compare.”
Dream dropped George’s hand and raised his own to meet the soft skin of the brunet’s jaw, “So?”
They were facing each other now, Dream’s other hand slowly sliding off of George’s shoulders, taking his hand instead.
“It’s wrong.” George sighed, turning his head to look at the stone floor. What they were doing, what they were feeling, was wrong.
Dream’s thumb ran over George’s cheek, and George hadn’t even noticed that tears had started to fall from his eyes. He hated the way that he leant into the touch, hated the way that it made him feel so warm, and he most of all hated the way that he longed for Dream to pull him closer and connect their lips.
It was wrong.
Countless men had been put to death for it; he and Dream were no exception to that.
“You’re getting married tomorrow,” George repeated under his breath.
“You act like it’s going to change anything.” Dream said, and it only reminded George of how naive he really was.
If anyone found out, it would be George would meet the consequences—he was the one to taunt the king. Dream would be seen as innocent. It was why Dream was always so careless, and why George was always the mediator. If anyone saw them, George knew that he would meet his fate with the swing of an axe, in front of the whole kingdom for all to see.
Somehow, it didn’t seem to scare him like it used to.
Maybe it was because the axe would be quick, painless.
Dream acted as if the wedding wouldn’t change anything. George knew it would.
Maybe it wouldn’t happen right away, but it would happen. Slowly, over time, George would lose him. Rather it was to his wife or his responsibilities or maybe even the family that he would eventually create, George would never be as important to Dream as they would.
Losing Dream was inevitable; a slow profound pain that would infect him, and it would stay with him, constant, for the rest of his days.
At least the axe got it all over with quickly.
“It’s going to change everything.”
“George…” Dream mumbled.
“Tomorrow, it all has to stop,” George said, and he wasn’t sure where the confidence had come from, “I can not be your little secret... I can’t afford to lose my head.”
He brought his hand to rest on top of Dream’s, fingers curling around, but he couldn’t muster enough courage to pull Dream’s hand from his face.
They drifted into silence once again, like they had many times before, but it was different than they were used to. It wasn’t comfortable, quite the opposite, the air full of words that were unsaid, words that neither of them had enough courage to say out loud.
Dream was the one who broke through it.
“We could run away,” he suggested, eyes flickering over the landscape below.
“They would hunt us down before we even left the valley.” George countered quickly. He had thought of it before—he had thought of everything before. Long nights staying up staring at his ceiling trying to piece together a future where he and Dream lasted.
The only conclusion that he ever reached was that it was hopeless.
“We’re not meant to be.” George eventually said.
“Do you really think that this all ends tomorrow?” Dream asked, “Do you believe that tomorrow I will suddenly stop loving you?”
“I believe that tomorrow you will no longer have any room to.” George said, “Don’t you?”
“I don’t.”
Dream was sure of himself.
George wished he could believe it.
Their story was complicated, but the ending to it was simple. There was no room for idealities; there were no happy endings. There were only two options. It either ended before the wedding, a simple agreement to stop what they were doing, or it ended after, with someone finding out about them and George’s head on a chopping block.
George was afraid of the second ending. But it wasn’t because of the axe.
He was afraid of the fact that he was all too willing to risk it all, because it meant more time to call Dream his, even in the sick and twisted way they would be together.
So he held his ground. He chose the first option for both of them.
“I can’t be your mistress.”
“You wouldn’t be.”
“By the very definition, I would be.” George shot back. Finally, he had enough courage to pull Dream’s hands away from him. Dream’s hands fell to his side, his eyes full of confusion and hurt, and he didn’t try to touch George any longer.
“This isn’t where we end.” Dream said.
“It is,” George said, “It has to be.”
“We’ve been able to hide this all for years George! Sure, we have to be a bit more careful, we have to be more cautious but that’s fine! We can do it!”
“We can’t,” George said. “At some point, someone is going to find out. Someone is going to walk in and see us and then that will be it! You don’t understand the consequences because when they do find out, it’s no longer we. It’s nothing but a slap on the wrist for you... but it’ll cost me my entire life! And Dream, I… I can’t do that.”
He was met by silence. For the first time, Dream didn’t have a counter. George saw that as good of a time as any, he saw that as the end.
“Goodbye, Dream.” George sighed.
And then he left.
George was certain that their story ended there. He thought that it ended with him walking off that balcony, tears falling from his eyes freely, and Dream standing alone staring down at the stone on the ground, silent.
But it wasn’t the end of their story.
George hadn’t been back to the spot down by the lake in years, not since Dream had taken on more responsibilities, or since George had taken over his father’s role as the record keeper in the kingdom. He missed the smell of the trees and the way the morning mist soaked through his shoes as he walked through the untouched grass. It brought him back to his childhood, brought a certain sense of innocence back to him that he had lost long before.
In his hands was a scrunched-up piece of paper from Dream, slipped under his door much too late the night before. At first he had been reluctant to read it, balling it up and throwing it on his desk. But it tempted him, and he did.
It said to meet Dream at the lake before the sunrise.
So there he was.
He wasn’t going to go, but he lost all self-control.
The area really hadn’t changed much from when they were younger, though there were more flowers than George had remembered; camellias and forget-me-nots, daisies and tulips, and others that George couldn’t even name. The rock had more moss on it, but it still stood tall. Much like the real altar, it was smooth and cold, but somehow it was more inviting, almost calming. The grass was long, no longer trampled to the ground, and it was a little greener.
Dream arrived just as the sun started to peek over the mountains and through the trees, pushing his way through the ferns that grew on the path and into the clearing. He was wearing a black overcoat, threaded with gold and silver designs, embroidered with gems, much too expensive to be wearing in the forest.
When he saw George, he smiled once again, and despite everything that had happened between them the day before, George found himself smiling back. Despite everything, Dream still made him feel warm, still made his heart beat quicker.
For a second, George forgot that it was Dream’s wedding day.
For a second it was just the two of them, surrounded by large trees and nothing else. For a second, they were the only two people in the world that mattered.
“You came.” Dream said, hints of surprise in his voice.
“How could I not have?” George responded, and it was the truth. It didn’t matter what happened between them, and that was what scared George so much. No matter what the dangers were or what the consequences were, George would always come back to Dream.
They met each other in front of the rock, facing each other as they did all those years ago, though they were much closer. It wasn’t on purpose, and they didn’t even notice it until they both looked to their sides and stupid smiles carved onto their lips as realization struck and memories flooded back.
Then George looked back at Dream, eyes trailing up and down the beading of the jacket and that was when the realization hit that he was getting married in only a few hours. He was supposed to be at the castle getting prepared, but instead, he was out at the lake with George.
His crown was gone from his head, and it stuck George with fear as he remembered the conversation they had the day before.
“I am not going to run away with you. I- I can’t run away with you.”
Dream grabbed George’s hands in his own and somehow it managed to calm him down, “I wasn’t going to ask you to.”
“Then what were you going to ask me?” George raised his eyebrow.
“To marry me.” Dream said.
Silence.
Only the chirping of the birds and the whistling of the wind could be heard.
“You’ve gone insane.” George laughed.
It was completely irrational.
“When I said that I would rather be marrying you, I meant it, George,” Dream said, and George stopped laughing, “and I can’t do it in the way I want to—I can’t give you a real wedding in the castle, but that doesn’t matter because I still want you in any way that I can.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Maybe I am.” Dream sighed, “You said that our story ends today, that today we have to stop. We aren’t in control of that. But we are in control of how, it ends, and I am not letting that be on the balcony. I want it to end with me showing you how much you mean to me.”
Everything about them was irrational.
So maybe it was fitting.
George’s eyes shifted to the rock, and it was as if he could see Sapnap stood behind it back when they were kids.
“It’s just make-believe.”
“Nothing about us is make-believe,” Dream said. He stepped closer to George, so much so that their foreheads were nearly touching. George looked up at him and their eyes locked.
George was the one who leant in, standing on the tips of his toes and connecting their lips. Dream tasted of honey and berries, an infatuating familiarity.
Dream was the one who pulled away, resting their foreheads together.
“Let me marry you, here, now,” he muttered, “Let this be the end of our story.”
It was George’s fatal flaw; no matter what he would always be Dream’s.
“Okay,” George breathed, and he didn’t even need to open his eyes to know that Dream was smiling at him. He wondered how they would do it, despite the preparations for months, neither of them truly knew much about weddings. But it seemed that Dream had it all planned out.
When George was nineteen years old he got married to Dream
It wasn’t a real wedding. It was just two boys, stood down by the lake as the sky filled with white clouds started to turn pink and orange as the sun started to rise. They held their hands together, facing each other in front of the very same altar they had when they were kids.
For most, weddings were the beginning. For them, it was the end.
A happy end, the end that George had never thought possible.
“We don’t know what the future holds.” Dream started, a bright and confident smile on his face as he read his vows. The birds in the trees chirped, no doubt annoyed at the sound from below, though neither of the boys cared much, “But I know how I feel now, and I love you, and despite everything, I don’t plan on that changing ever. But this is about right now, and right now, I am your husband, and with these vows, I will always be your husband. Though it may never be on paper, it doesn’t make it any less real.”
He paused for a minute, eyes flickered down to their hands interlocked, and George gave them a squeeze to assure him.
“I can’t give you a real wedding, and I can’t promise you a future without problems… but I can promise you that I love you, and no matter what happens, I will protect you.”
It was George’s turn.
“Our story is complicated, it was never easy. But maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe, if it was easy, we wouldn’t have known what we truly meant to each other.”
Dream looked back up at him, and George continued, “Though our world may try to tear us apart, we still found a way to each other, and that’s enough of a sign from the universe that this, we were meant to be. Our future will only become more ravelled, more complicated, but the fact that I love you will be something that never differs, never changes.”
A negative voice in the back of George’s head taunted him, making him wonder how long it would take for the promises they made to be broken. But then Dream suddenly stepped away, wide eyes, and it made those thoughts disappear.
“I almost forgot!” Dream beamed, dropping George’s hand and reaching into his jacket pocket, digging around. He stopped once he had found what he needed.
And then he pulled out a ring.
It was just a simple emerald in the middle of a gold band. Most people would say that it wasn’t extravagant or special in any way, but to George it was beautiful.
“I stole this from my mother.” Dream chuckled, shaking his head in embarrassment, “I thought that you would like it. It’s something you can have to remind you that you are mine and that I am yours, no matter what happens.”
He slipped it into George’s palm, closing his fingers around it and holding their hands together, “Do you take me to be your husband?”
“I do.” George smiled, “Do you take me?”
“Without question.” Dream replied.
“Then I believe this is the part where you kiss me.”
Dream chuckled, “I do believe that is required.”
Their future was uncertain, neither would be able to predict how it played out. But at that moment, clinging onto each other, lips pressed together, nothing else mattered. For that one moment, it was just them, as it should have been. Though in only a few short hours, Dream would belong to someone else, one thing was consistent throughout everything.
No matter what happened, no matter what the universe threw their way, George and Dream would always belong to each other.