Chapter Text
Dream hasn’t heard a single word, not a ballad or a poem or even a whisper on the wind, about his newest assigned knight. Which was odd, considering that protection of the crown prince was of the utmost importance to the kingdom.
And yet the name Grayson continues to stare up from him on the scroll. No last name. By all accounts, this knight appeared to have come from nowhere.
With a sigh, Dream rolled the scroll up and set it aside on his desk, folding his hands on his desk and taking a moment to wonder how exactly a knight with no last name ended up on his paper. There isn't very much room to wonder though, and he still indeed has a job to do. That job only being to see who exactly this 'Grayson' is, and why they're here.
Any new knight assigned to Dream would always have to come meet him here in his office first. A bit of small talk would be struck up, names would be exchanged, the usual. It's all to really get a first impression on the new people, see how they act and what areas they may or may not succeed in. But more or less, if they really do deserve to serve the crown prince in this position.
He knows how to read people, figure out what their motives might be for joining. Perhaps he's a little interested in meeting this stranger with no last name, no record, no face.
Sure enough, there’s a knock on Dream’s door.
Behind it’s a knight in white—an extremely strange color, considering the paint required to stain plate armor (though it is chipping)—with fair skin and near-white hair.
His energy feels… invisible. Like he has nothing substantial for Dream’s eyes to catch on.
The knight, with no helmet to be seen, extends an armored hand.
“They have my name down as Grayson, but call me Punz, please,” he requests, voice low.
He really hopes this works. He does not want Purp to be trapped into this.
Dream stands from his seat at the knock on his door. It's only polite; good manners. The mystery knight is both not what he expected but at the same falls within the range of what he probably should've. Punz, they said. A strange name choice, but he's never one to judge. At least, not a name. Everything else however...
"Dream," he introduces himself, taking the hand and shaking it, firmly, once. Punz seems to come from a place that is also a mystery. He's never seen another kingdom's armor to be clad in white, and Dream looks the man over, taking in his posture and stature, how no helmet appears to be seen. Interesting.
He sits down after the short handshake, gesturing to the chair just in front of his desk, "Take a seat," he hummed, clasping his hands together as the thoughtful and analyzing look seems to never leave the man's face.
"Do you have any last name I can put you under for the report?" he asks casually, glancing at the scroll set to the side. A question he's never had to ask before, but there's a first time for everything.
“I know,” he responds to Dream’s introduction. It’s hard to miss with the whole prince thing and all.
He enters the room and remains standing, well-disguised worry nipping at his heels.
“No last name.”
The room is tastefully decorated in green and gold, and he finds his eyes wandering far too much to be proper for a knight.
He probably should’ve at least reviewed his studies from his time as a squire since he’s far from an actual knight.
“They didn’t give me a proper procedure for this—the scouters were in a hurry with what happened to your last knight. So—how does this work?”
Still no last name. The quill sitting in its stand looks almost disappointed, but Dream ignores the suspicion for now, watching the new knight as his eyes wandered the room. He can admit, it's a little glamorous in his office, but it wasn't like he had any decision in the decoration ideas.
He remembers rather distinctly what happened to his last knight. Rest the poor man's soul. The analyzing look seems to fall away, a warmth taking its place that Dream usually puts on when he's around other people of royalty and his citizens. It's welcoming, and that's the whole goal of it.
A hand lifts the crown that rests on his head to absently fix his tousled hair, humming in thought at the question, "Well, right now I would like to get to know you a little better, considering we'll be spending quite a bit of time together from now on, and I'd like for us to not be complete strangers," he said, a simple smile on his face.
"After our meeting here," Dream continued, tapping his chin, "I believe you will meet with the head guard and speak with him for a little while, but I'm not entirely sure about what. They don't tell me many details about that part. Then after that? If I'm correct, you will then begin your duties as my guard, and essentially follow me around everywhere I go. That's what the last few have done," he informed. Hopefully it helped the new knight in the slightest.
Being the prince doesn't mean you get to know how everything works, considering they believe that you should focus more on politics and running a kingdom than the little details such as what your personal guard does.
Punz nods at Dream’s request, still stiff in the shoulders.
“Alright, ask away.”
He hummed in thought, seemingly examining Punz for a moment as he considered what he wanted to ask the man. His questions always varied so it didn't feel like he was handing them a survey to fill out each time they came in. Punz wouldn't be that difficult to think of new questions.
"Where did you come from?" he asked lightly, reaching to take the scroll with the stranger's name and retire it into his desk drawer, "Normally I know a little bit of background with my knights, but you seem to have just come up out of the ground," Dream said with a chuckle, folding his hands on the desk once more.
"And I insist on taking a seat," he mentioned, nodding at the empty chair, "I imagine you've been standing for quite some time now, no?"
He lets the pause stretch, mind flitting through option after option before finally taking a seat. His awareness rose, circling the room like a hawk.
“I came from Snowchester,” he says. Technically true, if technically meant not at all.
“I was at the top of the forces there, but I kept local to teach a few newer trainees.”
Give enough information to be believable, and nothing more. Nothing less.
Snowchester? That's quite a ways from here, but that would explain the paler complexion and white armor. Dream hummed in acknowledgement, his head tilting slightly.
"So Punz, what made you want to be my personal guard?" he asked, an eyebrow quirking, "Not just anyone gets to be in this position, much less applies. You'll have a lot of responsibility," Dream chuckles once more, light and easy, "And you'll be quite bored with the things you'll have to stand in on. Is there any specific reason?"
Dream found no problem with these questions, considering that most would say that they just wish to serve their kingdom, or something noble like that. He knows a couple have only applied for clout. Those few didn't last very long.
“Money.” He cracks a grin, the first one he’s shown to Dream. That much was true.
“I’m broke as shit. Sending what I get home.”
This was a bit talkier than he was expecting, to be fair. He expected to say ‘hey I’m Punz’ and never talk to him again, only standing silently in the background.
Well Punz will simply have to deal with it, because Dream is a talkative person. The people know him as kind for the most part, but an ego certainly exists somewhere.
It was, nonetheless, nice to see the knight smile.
"Money?" he said, nodding, "That's understandable. Sending it back to your family then I'm assuming?" This wouldn't be a first either, considering how much this position gives. Punz's family-or friends- will be well off in a few months.
“Girlfriend,” he says and has to instantly quell the intense urge to cackle. “Her and her family.”
Punz was more likely to get with someone’s dad than a girl. He just didn’t want to give any hint to Purp’s existence.
“Any other questions, your highness?”
The grin on Dream's face hasn't faltered for a moment. He thinks he'll actually enjoy this one's company, even if they won't talk as much as now. Who knows, this might be the last conversation they actually have. One can never be sure.
He shook his head, "No, I think that's all, really." Dream leaned back in his seat, rings clinking together as he pulled the middle drawer of his desk out and began to search the contents within. Good gods he needs to organize this thing.
A brass key was pulled from the mess of papers, a dark green ribbon tied around the end of it as a marker to show where it went to, "This is for your room," he explained, nudging the drawer shut and leaning across the desk to hand it to Punz, "I hope the commander isn't too mean to you, I hear he has words sharper than steel."
It wasn't unusual for Dream to hold onto the key to his knights' quarters, or at least a spare. In case of emergencies, "I will see you tomorrow morning, yes?"
Couldn’t be worse than Purp.
“Yeah. Good evening, your highness.”
His quarters were kept nearby to Dream’s room anyway, in case of emergencies.
He stands, taking one last note of the room, and departs.
He’ll get a quick tour of the place. Then a quick in and out of the prince’s room tonight, and he’ll never have to take another job again.
Dream watches Punz leave, giving the man one last friendly wave goodbye before the door clicked shut. The chair creaked when he slouched back in it, pulling the heavy crown off his head and dropping it on the desk with a dull thud. It always hurt after wearing it for too long. Running a hand through his hair, Dream sighed to himself, the room now feeling a little emptier than normal.
It felt like he was going through one too many knights as of late, and he didn't know if they were either leaving the job or just simply dropping dead. Hopefully this knight stayed around longer, he already quite likes this one.
Spinning in his seat, Dream peered out the massive window behind him, down at his kingdom and his people. He knew he had a meeting he had to go attend, but they could wait a few minutes.
We'll see how the knight enjoys his time here.
It’s late—or early. The space just between where no one is awake; not even the servants.
The prince’s bedroom door opens silently, kept perfectly oiled. And Punz creeps in, no loud plate armor in earshot.
The main reason he wore it near-constantly was to ensure no one realized how quiet his movements were.
What happened to the prince’s last knight indeed.
Punz stops by the prince’s sleeping form, wreathed in moonlight. And he raises his knife to plunge straight into his throat.
No hard feelings. This is the last job he’ll ever need to take.
It had been another dragging day, and of course, Dream had been exhausted, practically dragging himself back to his room to change and go to sleep already. The overstuffed pillows welcomed him like every other night, and he sank easily into the familiar comfort of darkness and dreams.
But something was off about tonight.
Normally, Dream sleeps all night long, peaceful and uninterrupted, but this night he doesn't. The near silent sound of feet padding across carpet rises Dream from his slumber, humming in exhausted confusion as to why he was awake. What time was it? What woke him up?
Stifling a yawn, Dream turned his head to view the other side of his room-
And was met with the looming figure of someone he didn't recognize yet, poised to strike him dead in what would've been his sleep. That's one way to wake the prince up.
Dream's eyes shot open completely, staring at the assassin above him. There's a reason why his family were the ones in power and no one else.
Green eyes flash in the pale light for a moment, " You're not going to do anything to me ," he stated, almost hissed. The people think that he was good at speaking and persuading people, at somehow always getting things to go his way during discussions. Truth be told, Dream was blessed with the slightest amount of brainwashing people, of telling them what he wants them to do and them having no choice but to obey. A puppeteer, picking and choosing what strings to pull on whom. A gift from the gods that Dream took full advantage of.
And that person he used was the one threatening his life.
“ I’m not going to do anything to you ,” the assailant murmurs in turn, lowering the knife.
His eyes hum a gentle green, a sign that the magic’s taken hold. He stays with his head tilted down, a doll in every sense.
What was he doing…?
Seeing that he was successful, Dream slowly sat up in bed, internally breathing a sigh of relief, before moving to take the dagger away from the stranger, making sure to keep eye contact with his would be killer so the magic would stay in effect.
With the knife in hand, Dream pressed the point of the steel to the man's throat, fully ready to get rid of a life that was useless to him, until...
"....Punz?" he said, confusion clear in his voice as he recognized the face he had seen earlier that day, that had grinned at him, that had stood in his office as he prepared to get ready to be his knight.
Another betrayal. Dream sneered, " Why are you trying to get rid of me? " he asked, almost growling. This was obviously not the most pleasant of things to wake up to, considering that the man standing before him had sworn to protect the crown prince, not kill him .
“ Money. ” Punz lets the knife be taken from him. It seems to gleam green under the light, the blacksmith’s signature of an explosion at the base of the blade.
His mind’s fuzzy, falling through his fingers like sand and moonlight.
There’s not a single blacksmith Dream knows with that signature.
Of course it's because of money. Dream grumbled to himself, glancing at the strange dagger in his hand for a moment before fully getting out of bed. He used the point of the blade to push Punz back, glaring at the man he had been hoping would be perhaps a good acquaintance.
" Who hired you? " he questioned, tilting his head indifferently as a droplet of darkness welled at where steel met skin. Nothing wrong with getting real information this time. He's not even sure he should believe everything that was said to him in the office.
Dream won't right now, and quite frankly, he has every right to.
“ Don’t know. ” Could he be giving better answers? Absolutely. But telling as little as possible was so deeply ingrained into his bones that, if Dream wanted deeper information, he’d be here all night interrogating.
His eyes narrowed at the man, but he let it go for now, watching as the dark droplet ran down the blade once it got too heavy to stay in place.
But he had to admit, there was some potential with this one to be able to not only fool the guards, but gain the position of the crown prince's knight, giving him full access to Dream's chambers. Call him selfish, but he wanted someone like that on his side.
"You want money," he hummed to himself, tapping his chin with his free hand as he considered his options, " Can I make you actually loyal to me? " he asked, quirking his brow at Punz.
If it was as simple as out-paying the previous employer, then he had really nothing to worry about.
“ Blackmail. ” Punz’s hands twitched, something in his mind fighting hard against the bars of green that were trapping him.
It made sense now, why the employer refused to pay half up front. He wasn’t expected to come back alive.
His blood beads at the bottom of the blade, holding like baited breath.
A hum. Blackmail huh? He didn't really have much information on Punz, at least, any that could be used against him, considering that he came from the wind. The twitch of his hands was certainly noticed though. Hm, a fighter we see.
" What kind of blackmail? " I mean, he was here and had to answer, why not ask, right? Perhaps his supposed girlfriend? Any of the family he mentioned that possibly wasn't even real?
“ I have a brother. Two. ” The blood beads, holding, holding.
“ They mean the world to me. ”
It falls like the lowering of a curtain, like a heaving sigh, like the quiet unsheathing of a blade.
It hits the ground, and something barrels into Dream’s head like an asteroid.
Punz starts breathing again.
He gasps in a silent scream, falling on his ass back and away from the prince with a quiet thump against the perfect wood floors.
A hand comes up, protective against his throat and he stares up at Dream. It almost looked like fear in those blue-green irises.
The feeling of his head being crushed between two anvils is harsh and sudden. A sudden severing of connection can be painful, and it appears that that's exactly what just happened.
The dagger falls from his grasp as Dream stumbles back against the bed, holding his head between his hands as he groaned. Dammit. Blinking blearily at the floor, he let the wave of pain pass before looking down on the assassin.
There was certainly something to fear in those too-green eyes.
A wicked looking smile spread across Dream's face, a humorless chuckle bubbling up his throat, "Two brothers you said?" he hummed, his left eye twitching at a sudden spike in his temples.
Dream pushed himself away from the bed, stooping to collect the dagger once more and weigh it in his hand. The fresh line of blood glinted in the moonlight as he narrowed his eyes at the man.
"I suppose I'll have to organize a few search parties then," he said casually, low, dangerously, "Nothing wrong with that. Unless you wanna make it easier for everyone and tell me where they are?" he knows Punz won't tell him, he's broken the connection, and now a mental wall has been put up. It'll take a bit before Dream can get through it.
“You’re like them,” he breathes, which was concerning for a number of reasons.
Magic was nearly nonexistent, and the mages that did crop up were kept under lock and key and dismissed as fantasy.
Easier for the royal family to keep control.
But Punz is familiar with the feel and taste of magic, starting with the blood blooming beneath his fingers.
He has a job to do. And he can’t let the prince live with that information, so really, everything works out.
A dagger, small, barely more than a pocket knife, is slid from his boot as he dives to create a neat slice right through the prince’s achilles tendon.
Even in the near darkness, Dream can see Punz shift in place, preparing to dive, and he's able to dance out of the way before he's struck, the dagger held loose in his hand before he throws it down where Punz's arm would be.
He wasn't completely worried about striking the man, considering that he noe stood between Punz and the door. Could he stay here and try to fight? Yes. Would he win? More than likely not. Punz was better equipped than him, and there weren't many objects in the room that could be used as a weapon.
Leaving and fetching the guards would be a higher chance of survival than trying to play a hero, and that's not what he is.
So Dream sneered at Punz, and went for the door.
Oh he can not have the guards roped into this.
The knife sinks into the door when Dream reaches for the handle, and with his heart in his throat he says,
“You leave this room, I tell every fucking person I can that you keep control through magic and mind control.”
It’s Dream or his brothers, and fuck if he’s letting Boomer and Purpled fall.
This is blackmail of it’s own, no?
His hand flinches away on reflex when the knife sinks into the wood. Dream turns slightly, glaring at the man who's currently trying to blackmail him. So what? So he can just lay down and let himself be murdered? Like fucking hell.
"And you expect me to just sit down and let you kill me? It's your word against mine," Dream draws himself up to his full height, probably to seem more intimidating, "And last I checked, you're just some nobody who hasn't been my knight for one day, and I'm the crown prince who's helped keep this kingdom peaceful and prosperous."
There was a challenge on his face. If Punz didn't give him a good reason to stay, he's going to open that door and start yelling for the guards.
He grins the grin of an animal, cornered and spitting.
He grins sharp, wild, and with the edge of a jackal.
He prays Dream can’t hear the jackrabbiting of his heart. He needs this fucking bluff.
“So I die. Then what? You get a new guard, one I know you won’t be able to trust. And oh, something’s happened to the princess’s guard. Has anyone seen her? Her newest guard has arrived today after her old one was mutilated,” he almost sings, eyes the cold, unfeeling parlor of the moon. “ Oh, she was hung by her neck on the front tree— ”
" You shut your fucking mouth, " he snarls, taking a threatening step towards Punz despite not having any weapon in his hands.
Despite the glare, Dream considers what the man says. He hates to, but he does anyway, and he especially hates that there's some sort of truth to it. There's no guarantee that someone else will come along, and take someone else out from the royal family. Someone that isn't as well equipped as he is. Like his sister.
His hands curl into fists, but he tries his best to cool down enough to actually think. Okay, they're both at a standstill at the moment, so how can he make this work in his favor? His mind fell back to the main reason Punz was here. Money. He was here to get paid.
One hand was placed on the handle, a silent reminder to what he could still do, "Okay, fine. You're here to kill me for money, to send it back to your brothers," he stated, keeping a sharp eye on the man across the room in case he made a move, "Then what if I were to pay you more than what you were initially offered?" he bargained. His life was on the line, but Dream would be damned if he put all his years of practicing persuasion tactics to shit.
It’s easy for Dream to see just how everything rolls off his assailant’s shoulders in a relieved, soundless sigh.
“Yeah. Sure. How? You’re-fuck, it’s just begging to look like extortion or something.”
He presses the heel of his palm beneath his eye, willing it not to start twitching. It doesn’t.
“And shut the fuck up about my brothers, I hate people knowing about their existence and you’re only serving to antagonize me.”
Dream rolls his eyes so hard he almost sees the back of his head, "Well excuse me for not wanting to get murdered," he said, letting his own posture relax when Punz's visibly did as well. His guard remained up though; he wasn't going to be caught slacking so soon.
There was an awkward pause of silence before Dream continued, "How much were you going to be paid originally?" he asked, the edges of his words sharp. He wanted to hurry up and get this over with so Punz could get out of his room, preferably out of this wing of the castle, or even better, the building as a whole.
"And you better not say anything about my magic, or I'll personally kick your ass," it was a bit of an empty threat, considering Dream lacked in that department, but damn if he wouldn't get a few good punches in.
“I’d like to see you try.”
He walks up to Dream, as casual as ever, and reaches over his shoulder to pulls his knife out of the door.
There’s a glint of that same blacksmith’s signature, before he folds and tucks it back away into his boot.
“Guess. How much would I be paid to kill someone with a high a profile as you, who has dispatched half a dozen other assassins through their guard.”
When Punz approaches him, Dream's grip on the handle tightens, and he takes a half step back. He knows full well who could kick who's ass right now, but still, he holds his ground for the most part.
He doesn't think he'll get around anytime soon to figuring out who made that blade.
Dream's brows furrowed at the question. Guess? Why does he want him to guess? He doesn't know how assassin payments work out. Whoever it was had to be paying a lot if they were so determined to kill the royal family.
"I don't know," he huffed, rolling numbers around in his head to see what might sound appropriate, "5,000 gold shillings? Though if you say that many have really cycled through my guard, then this could very well just be a suicide mission," and it very well still could be. Was Punz's mental wall weakened, or better yet, down? As Dream stared at Punz, mental glittering green strings descended once more into the assassin's mind, poking around and trying to find a good place to latch onto. To create another puppet again. It's to no avail though, and with a grumble under his breath, Dream pulls his strings back. Maybe he can catch him off guard later.
He knows it wasn't exactly a secret though that Dream just visited Punz's mind, but most people dismiss the feeling as tingles and nothing else.
Punz’s eyes snaps to Dream’s, a warning dare there.
“Do that again and I slit your throat where you stand, guards within screaming range or not.”
He hated manipulation. Everything he does is on his own fucking terms. And if Dream controls him, then he breaks out of it and wrings that skinny little neck of his until the prince stops moving.
“And it was 8.5k. You want to double?” That was absolutely a lie, but hey, if he can swindle he fucking will.
Dream narrowed his eyes back at Punz, but he understood well enough. Fine then, no strings.
The amount makes Dream mentally cringe, considering that doubling it would be 17 thousand gold shillings. That sounds almost absurd, but at the same time it would guarantee that no one else could buy Punz off of him. He huffed, placing his free hand on his hip.
"17k? That sounds like too much. How about I bump you to 10k?" he negotiated, quirking a brow at the man.
“15k, take it or leave it.” He plucks his other knife—the one he intended to stab Dream with—from his victim, spinning it between his hands.
“You’re the prince, you can spare some extra shillings.”
It’d immediately go to savings and be budgeted out for the next few however-longs, but by god it’d mean the world.
The handle is released in favor of crossing his arms, watching as the knife is spun almost directly in front of him.
"13k," he said, daring Punz to say 15k again. It still sounded like way too much to him. Who would've thought that he'd go from almost dying in his sleep to negotiating a price in which the assassin would leave him alone.
“Deal.” He holds out a hand to shake before Dream could change his mind.
That’s a massive fucking sum. He’ll be splitting it for the others to pick up.
“I can be out by dawn if you can get me the cash,” he confirms, not knowing for certain what Dream even had in mind for him.
The hand is taken, though with a hint of hesitance in case the man had any second ideas. It was a stupid thought, yes, but one can never be too careful when making deals with your should be killer.
"I don't think I can do that by dawn, but we'll see," considering how much 13k gold shillings are, he would have to go visit the vault where they keep their money and collect it himself. Thankfully though, the coins were counted into bags of 500, so he didn't have to count all the way to 13 thousand one by one. Still though, it would be quite a few bags to be carrying out. 26 to be exact.
He didn't want to seem suspicious walking out of the vault with 26 small bags in hand in the middle of the night. The assassin will just simply have to wait until the morning.
He snorts. “‘Course. 13k is a massive sum.”
Almost immediately after, Punz makes a face.
“Ugh. You’ll be my first living target. That’s annoying. I’m never going to live it down.”
Purp’s going to hold it over his head forever. God.
With the agreement made, Dream let go Punz's hand like he suddenly had a disease, crossing his arms instead and making an attempt to not show the distasteful look on his face.
He's not very successful.
"Okay, that's great and all, now will you leave my room? I can meet you in the courtyard tomorrow at noon to give you your money," he huffed, looking away from the man to stare out the window. He'd rather not ever see Punz again, but he has to at least one more time. Of course he's going to make it an issue.
He snorts. “Yeah, okay.”
Except he walks over to Dream’s window, opening the towering arches. He turns back to Dream with a smile as sharp as his knife.
“See ya, Princy.” And, like the dramatic bitch he is, he gives Dream a salute and jumps out.
He watched the intruder leave through his window, finding no taste in his decision to fall out of his window. Once the man was out of sight, Dream groaned and leaned against the door, running a hand through his hair and pulling at the blond strands. What the hell did he just get himself into. It was almost outrageous to think he had to pay for his own life, but there was clearly no other option.
He's just more or less surprised it actually worked.
Dream can get the money in the morning. For now, he'd like to get the small amount of sleep he still can. The soft mattress welcomed him back as he climbed under the sheets, and all thoughts and worries for tomorrow were pushed tot he back of his mind for the time being.
When he awoke the next morning, Dream took his time getting dressed. Perhaps to delay what he had to do? Possibly. Breakfast wasn't as appetizing as he thought it would be, but that's to be expected with a troubled stomach like his. It was around 11:30 when Dream finally began to make his way to the vault to collect the money he had promised. He brought his travel bag with him to make it seem like he was going to collect some road money, or just something to buy some things he saw while he was out.
No one batted an eye when Dream entered the vault by himself, and exited a few minutes later. Tied to his belt were two bags of coins. In his bag were the other 24. No waves were given to the guards as Dream left the castle, going outside and down the stairs to the left that led to the courtyard. There was a rather hidden bench somewhere towards the farther end of it, dappled in the branches of a weeping willow and shaded from both sun and sight. Hopefully the assassin would have two sense and meet him there.
He'll admit, he was a little early, but there was nothing wrong with sitting down for a few minutes and letting his eyes rest, soaking up the feeling of the outdoors around him. It was much more peaceful out here than in the castle.
One of the guards clears his throat.
There weren’t supposed to be any guards in the gardens, one, and two, the way Punz managed to blend into the background was almost terrifying. One second, no one. The next? It was someone you noticed, but paid no attention to.
One of the very best at what he does.
“I’m kind of surprised you actually kept to your word. I was prepared to try and—“ he makes a little hand motion that easily translates to kill , “if, you know and all. No offense, your highness.”
That familiar scowl crosses the prince's face at the voice, his moment of peace interrupted. It was inevitable, but that didn't make the moment any better. With a sigh, Dream leaned forward in his seat, looking up at the fake guard with a barely contained glare.
"None taken," he said in a way that sounded like a lot was taken. He hated people thinking that he would go back on his word. If he said he would do something, he was going to do it. End of story. Drawing his bag onto his lap, Dream opened it to display the multitude of shillings that lay tucked away, neatly separated into individual bags.
The two smaller bags on his belt were untied as well, and Dream handed the small things over, "They're pre-counted in groups of 500, so there should be 26 bags here for you," he informed, pointedly keeping his gaze on the containers he held. He'd rather not look at Punz again. A gesture was made for the assassin to take the bag and count for himself, just so issues couldn't arise in the future, or the man couldn't leave and suddenly declare that Dream had underpaid him and demanded for more.
He stands at attention, the perfect mimicry of any other guard, and walks past Dream like it was nothing more than coincidence that his patrol brought him across the crown prince.
“Thank you.”
It’s said quietly, nothing more than a breath on the wind before he’s walking away, travel bag at his side.
He’d have to cover a few things in the guard ranks, but honestly, after that was smoothed over, he was fucking set. Not exactly life in luxury, but certainly life out of poverty.
It was nice, and he tried to shove as much gratitude into the short phrase as he could.
If they were lucky, they’d never see each other again anyways.
If only they were lucky.
He just barely hears the thanks, but Dream lets the simple yet weighted word carry on its way with the wind. With that out of the way, and the fake knight out of his sights, Dream takes the time to sit back and actually relax for the time being, considering he had the better part of the morning off before he had to go attend anything.
From there it's like any other typical day at the castle. Dream gathers himself up and returns to his room to get changed into something a little nicer. He had a meeting about trade routes that he was instructed to sit in on, and hopefully he'll be able to get his opinion in. His own opinion, that is.
See, magic was indeed a rare find, that was no secret. So what does one family already in power do when a child with an almost revolutionary gift is conceived? You make it worth its weight of course. Dream sat in on a lot of these meetings to make things went his father's way, and if not, a subtle signal would be given, and Dream would do what he goes in those rooms to do.
It's not the most pleasant thing to do, but he's doing it for the greater good of his people, and for his family. He can't let them down.
Once the meeting is finished, Dream falls back into a more comfortable style, one that lacks his flashy jacket and part of his dress shirt is untucked. Lunch—which is potato soup and buttered rolls—goes down rather nicely. Much better than breakfast in his opinion. Perhaps it's because there isn't the threat of an unknown dagger hanging just over his head. Dream certainly felt lighter despite the heavier meal, walking about the castle grounds and greeting some of the servants on their way to do tasks. Others would agree if the question was ever asked. The crown prince is in an exceptionally good mood today.
From there it's the normal classes, studying the lay of the land and making fake decisions about what could be beneficial for the kingdom. Boring stuff really; Dream almost dozes off several times. No matter your age, it feels like the classes will never end.
Unfortunately there will be no swordsmanship training today, which doesn't bode with him considering that it's his favorite subject, but he understands. The general still has an army to train as well.
By the time dinner rolls around, Dream is already tired. An excuse is made to stay in his room, and Dream eats his meal by the window, book in hand as he stares down at the gardens beneath him. It feels like it's been a long day, but at the same time, he's barely woken up. In his journal, Dream vaguely wrote about the events that transpired that morning and the night before, the candlelight flickering gently in the dimness of his room. He always liked it darker anyways.
Perhaps he'll retire early tonight to make up for the sleep lost.
The days roll by as normal, one after another, until they slowly start to blend like a fine chicken soup.
Or maybe he was just hungry. Either way, time passes.
Until one day, Dream wakes up in a place that’s not his bed.
Dream wakes up to hushed arguing. It’s in a foreign language, one that Dream was taught but with a dialect so heavy it was barely recognizable.
“I’m telling you, he has magic! Lord Joey felt it himself.”
“Okay, okay, I won’t enter the room until we bleed him dry.”
“Good.”
A tiny square of light opens in the door, illuminating the black space Dream was set in.
It certainly wasn’t a comfortable position. Not at all. Hands chained above his head pulled taut, and pulled just high enough to let him stand on his toes. Go flat-footed, the chains would dig gashes into his wrists.
It didn’t help that he was stood on a large, metal grate. Or the fact it was stained with blood.
“Not awake.”
“You sure master will like this?”
“Obviously. Now shut it, the drug should be wearing off soon now.”
It had been quite some time since the exchange with Punz at that lonesome bench. A week? Two? He wasn't completely sure, but it was certainly long enough for Dream's duties to wash over his head again and make him forget that tense night.
So his confusion was understandable when he awoke to sharp whispers and painful wrists. It took his mind a moment to process the foreign language, the drug still weighing heavily on his thoughts. Where was he? Why was he here?
His feet hurt, but the slight attempt to go flat-footed made him wince at the sting that became aware in his wrists and hands. Dream was even still dressed in his pajamas. Bloody hell, they apparently had an incredibly bad guard structure at the castle if they were able to slip in and out with the prince.
The loud clanging out metal being moved and light shining into the dark space made Dream groan, the sound ringing in his ears. He had barely been able to open his eyes before he was practically blinded by the yellow light. Not like there was very much to see in his cell anyways.
Still though, Dream mad an attempt to gather his bearings despite how it felt that some things were distorted. From the drug more than likely, but too soon the light vanished, and the prince was plunged into darkness once more.
As the seconds ticked by, Dream became more and more aware of his situation. He'd been kidnapped. Why? Well why else would someone do so? Probably for ransom money. Not many people were exactly original with their ideas. He'll take what the men outside with a grain of sand for now.
As much as he hated it, all Dream could do was wait for something to happen, or for someone to visit him, and to try and stay as comfortable as he could. He already missed his bed and plush pillows.
“He’s awake.” Must have heard the groan.
The door opens fully, and in the moment Dream’s blinded, a man’s shoved in the room and the door’s slammed shut, the heavy clang of a lock following.
The man left with Dream is sputtering, red-faced and indignant. He’s thin and of average height, maybe 5’10, with pale, sun-deprived skin and mousey black hair.
He bangs on the door, shouting every curse he knows in the same language. The dialect is different, at least.
When the door opens, Dream seems to lean away on reflex, expecting someone to come storming in with a knife on their tongue, and perhaps in their hands as well.
But that doesn't happen. Instead, he hears the door shut again, and the desperate banging and cussing of what might as well be a doomed man. The prince curses under his breath, the loud bashing of fists against metal only making his headache worse. What exactly were they looking for by doing this? Something flashy? Some new weapon to have under their control? He doesn't think they'll get much of a show this way.
Still though, the banging was getting annoying, and Dream was already in a bad enough mood as it was, but as much as he'd like to make the frantic stranger stop, he was still too tired. Too out of it. His strings would be weak and frayed; they wouldn't be able to hold the man's thoughts in place long enough to be much help at all.
"Will you please quit that," he grumbled instead in the stranger's tongue, hanging his head since there wasn't very much to look at; his diction was a lot more formal than that of his captors, "I don't think that's going to do anything." Trying to be at least a little polite? Yes, but it won't last very long at all if the man continues what he's doing.
The stranger sighs, stopping his tirade.
Above all, he looks scared. And he’s got something in hand. It’s not quite a knife, too dull and completely the wrong shape, but it’s sharp enough to gleam.
“ I’m—I’m really- “ He takes a breath, looking like he’s steeling himself.
And then he charges at Dream, aiming the sharp piece of something at his chest.
The attack is sloppy, like he doesn’t know how to kill.
While Dream normally prides himself on being observational of how people act and react, this isn't exactly one of those moments when he's on his A game. It's dark, he's tied up and exposed, and there's now a stranger rushing at him with something in his hand that Dream would prefer not to see what when it's in his chest somewhere.
Adrenaline kicks in finally, hands balling into fists as Dream leans away once more, and brilliant green flashes in the dim room. Invisible strings of his own snap down on the man's thoughts like a bear trap, the aggressive thought enough to stop him in his tracks without a word having to be uttered.
Dream stared at the almost trembling man, frozen in place with the item still raised in the air. His throat felt dry, his wrists hurt, he was tired and most of all, Dream was scared. The breath he had been holding was shakily released when he realized that he had the man, and he wasn't going anywhere unless he told him to.
" What- What do you want? " he questioned almost breathlessly, glancing about the room like another man might come rushing from the too dark shadows.
“ They said if I killed you, they’d let me go, ” he breathes, halting all motion like someone had pressed the pause button on him.
In a way, Dream had.
His shoulders don’t even heave with breath, but his chest steadily flows with air that’s just enough to keep him.
“I want to go.”
There's no way that these people would keep their word. He's heard of it before, of men acting out in hopes of a promised freedom, only to be made a fool and either returned to their cell or simply murdered in cold blood.
" They won't let you go, " Dream huffed, shaking his head, " Come help me get out of these cuffs, " if he couldn't walk out, then he'd at least like to be able to walk around, to get a scope of the room he's in and hopefully come up with an idea of how to get out.
Even if his chances were incredibly slim, he had to at least try.
He reaches up, piece of metal in hand, and… stops.
“ How? ”
"I don't know," he hisses, craning his head to look up at the cuffs holding him in place and cutting into his wrists.
" Can you pick the lock? " Dream asked the man, looking back down at him.
The man uselessly holds up the metal. It’s about an inch and a half in length and width, though roughly cut and jagged.
Dream huffed at the useless display, a frown cutting deeper into his features than the sad piece of metal held up for him to see.
"Okay," he grumbled to himself, trying to figure out what he could do next if his hands couldn't be freed. This scraggly man would just have to be his hands for him, which isn't desirable, but it was better than nothing at all.
" What else is in here? " he questioned, looking about what little of the room he could see.
“ There’s— ”
The door slides open.
Then, it sounds like something explodes. The clamor covers them both all at once, clinging long after the source is gone.
It rings, and it leaves behind the oil-slick feeling of vertigo.
The door slides shut, the funeral toll of the lock almost silent in the aftermath.
The man slumps at Dream’s feet, a bullet wound between his eyes.
The opening of the door was terrifying enough, every muscle in Dream's tired body tensing up as he prepared for someone else to enter the room and finish what his puppet had started. But aside from the light from outside stinging his eyes, there was no sight of another person.
And then it was like a bomb went off.
Dream flinched heavily at the loud noise, the ringing bouncing off the walls and reverberating inside the prince's skull, who gritted his teeth against the sound. Just barely, over the sound of too loud white noise and the clattering of chains, Dream heard something heavy fall to the floor. Something person sized.
His eyes darted to the ground in front of him, blue spots still visible in his vision from the light that had attacked his pupils. He squinted through them, making out the ragged form of his puppet laying motionless on the dirty prison ground.
He hadn't even been able to get the poor chap's name.
Cursing under his breath, Dream returned to his previous objection: figuring out some sort of way to get out of here. It was a vague goal, but something was better than nothing.
While his eyes searched the darkness, Dream found himself wondering why exactly the other prisoner was sent in here if they simply planned for him to die either way. It felt pointless to him, to waste an able body.
He didn't plan on being wasted anytime soon.
Minutes pass by. Hours, maybe? The blood continues to seep from the stranger’s body, trickling into the drain at Dream’s feet.
Then someone steps in, the door as loud as ever, just to clean up the body.
The momentary silence was, albeit worrisome, welcomed, giving Dream a chance to mentally recede from the present situation he was in to try and formulate a plan. Needless to say, nothing immediately came to mind.
For a while, Dream rolled his thoughts around, trying to take what little was given to him information wise and make it useful. A door, the same door across from where he hung, ripped him from the almost safe area he had created for himself to ponder in.
Dream watched the newcomer through his eyelashes, remaining mostly still as the man approached the dead body at his feet and bent over to collect the corpse. His strings, severed from the previous puppet now rendered useless, waited restlessly on the edges of his mind, ready to wrap and constrict free will and thought like a python and its prey.
" Stop. " Dream muttered to the man, the unseen glittering green pulleys reaching to grab, to take, to steal whatever he needed; wanted.
The man straightens, corpse in his arms, and…
Doesn’t stop. Collects it in a manner easier to handle and turns to leave.
Test of powers look like a success. Now that they know they existed and how to keep it from working, the real fun could begin.
He knocks twice on the door, waiting for it to slide open and let him out.
His influence seemed to ricochet of the man, bouncing harmlessly away from him like pesky fleas, and Dream's face screwed up at the sight. How-?
Helplessly, he watched the guard return to the door and knock on it, almost leisurely if not for the dead man in his arms. "Hey!" he called, pulling on the chains that cut uncomfortably into his wrists, but nothing happened. No, no no no this was the only thing he had going for him, but now that wasn't working. They had to have something in their ears in order to keep their thoughts their own.
Frustration evident, Dream yanked on his restraints, spitting at how it pulled on his tired muscles, "Let me go! Now! "
He was but another man again. A man chained up and ready to be poked at like an animal.
And poke at him they did. They had to see where his magic came from, and how it swirled into his being so they could feed it to their demon overlord, after all.
The disappearance of the prince raises a few heads from Punz’s neck of the woods. Not that he cares or anything. Princey’ll be fine . Mages are rare. There’s not many that’ll be able to get the drop on them.
He glances back at Boomer, who’s warming a sword with his hands until it’s a gilded red, then at Purpled, who’s napping in the sunlight. No one strays this far from town, instead preferring to wait for them to go to the town themselves as they do on a near-daily basis. They’re safe here.
And the little prince has nothing to do with him picking up his bag and a promise to take a shorter job. He’s just going to get some extra cash for a surprise present for Boomer. That’s all.
And besides. Kidnapping rings are easy to infiltrate and take down.
Easy money. That’s it.
How many days has it been? There’s no way to tell with aching arms and the trickle of blood. No change in the outside light, no consistency in rests. Just the ragged screech of that damned, heavy door.
The only thing different is that, today (tonight?), there’s a commotion outside the four walls Dream has come to know.
Days felt like weeks. Or months. He wasn't sure anymore. There was no real way to keep track of time in his dark hole, the only sure thing the headache inducing door and the distant trickle of water somewhere behind him. Water... They fed him and gave him water, sure, but only just enough to scrape by. His lips had never felt more parched, a part on his bottom lip having split open after a particular session.
The sessions.
They were absolute agony. It was like the men that did the dirty work scrounged up whatever thing they could find, ranging from knives to scissors, to whips, to fists and words as disgusting as the ground Dream's bare feet graced against. His shirt had been removed after the first few whippings, leaving his bare and battered skin exposed to the cold, damp air. He wasn't living. He wasn't even surviving. Dream had become their plaything; their puppet, and his hope for getting out was dwindling as each hour(day?) passed. He had tried every so often to catch someone who had slipped up on their ear protection, but Dream failed every time.
By now, he had grown too weak to keep himself up. The constant shed of blood and near impossible act of getting proper rest rendering his body near limp. The chains cut into the circulation of his wrists- he could care less about the feeling of pins and needles in his palms.
Dream had been taking a very light nap, the sound of dripping water lulling him into a restless and uncomfortable sleep, when yelling reached his ears. Perking up at the noise, he squinted into the dark to make out the shape of the door, straining his hearing to figure out what was happening beyond it. Was his family here? Had they finally figured out where he was and had come to save him?
His heart soared, a new energy reviving his tired body, and he found it in himself to relent on the weight pulling at his hands. His excitement of potential freedom was almost too much to bear, and he called out in a raspy whisper, "Hey, I'm in here, let me out..."
The few words made him swallow harshly, voice ragged and torn from yelling in pain. Please, please find him.
These guys really weren’t suited to weaponized combat. Punz takes them down quickly, a knife through their throat, and opens doors as he goes along.
They grab at his clothes as he frees them, and he lets them, as uncomfortable as it is. They need something new to cling to. He can take the extra hour to clean the extra blood.
Last door, then he’ll have cleaned this place out.
Oh, there he is.
What Dream sees is a figure in black and white and blue, and then his arms are free in a dizzying rush of blood to the limbs.
While he waited, Dream listened to the sounds of dying men and that familiar screech of metal. Other people were being set free. How many more were down here with him? That question quickly became irrelevant when his own door finally opened, the light from the hallway spilling into his room and illuminating the dirty, blood stained and rocky ground beneath the prince. It nearly blinded him, turning his head away and squeezing his eyes shut to protect his retinas after too many hours spent squinting into the dark.
It was a single person, one set of footsteps approaching, and he tensed out of reflex, a feeble attempt made to shrink under the eyes he felt on him.
But before he knew it, the weight pulling at his wrists was shifted and removed, the only thing keeping Dream standing suddenly vanishing, leaving the prince to slump forward. He tried to stand on his own, he really did, but the sudden rush of blood to his head made him dizzy and he clung to his rescuer in order to keep steady. Swaying on his feet, Dream tries to make out who it is that came to his aid, but the harsh light behind the stranger covered their face in shadow, and so he thanked a person with no name at the moment. It was quiet, and just barely audible over the sounds of the other freed men getting their revenge on the few captors that remained.
"Can we leave please?" he rasped, slowly retracting himself from the stranger as his balance returned to him, "I'd like to go home."
He breathes out a soft huff. Sure as hell was the prince.
"Sure. I'll hand you over to the rest of the captives. They'll make sure you get home alright, princey. I can't stick around too long."
The info-gathering bit took longer than he would have liked, and he'd like to be paid and home before Boomer's birthday. Well, less of a birthday and more of just... his day. They didn't really have birthdays, didn't think they needed one.
He helps him out the door, hood and mask still firmly in place. He wasn't making that mistake again, at least.
The mask was simple. Just something to keep him from being recognized and convicted. A black skull covering his eyes and nose, mimicking the creature, the wither, from the myths.
Punz goes to hand the prince off to the dozen, frantic ex-captives helping each other out.
Debt fucking repaid, or something. He's good to never get tangled into something like this, with the prince, again. Weight off his shoulders.
There was something familiar about the way the masked stranger spoke, mayhaps he had exchanged a few words with him at a market somewhere, or somewhere in the halls. He wasn't sure, and his tired mind couldn't find the motivation to scrounge through hazy memories to find a small conversation. Home was all he could think about fully. Of a warm room and soft pillows and clean clothes.
As the pair walked, Dream did his best to not be too much of a deadweight, a limp evident from the lack of walking around. When he was passed off to the others, Dream paused for a moment, turning to capture one last look at his rescuer. There was something about this person, but he couldn't place exactly what.
"Thank you," Dream murmured again, the simple words dripping with sincerity. It didn't feel like enough though. Hopefully one day he can properly thank him.
Taking a fragile woman's hand, Dream carefully left the hellhole behind with the others, coaxing a few of the weaker ones to continue on, perhaps with a little prod of something else. It was refreshing to use it again after so long, despite how frayed he felt.
When he returned to the castle after parting ways with the others, Dream was almost immediately swamped by guards and servants, people yelling at each other to fetch medical supplies and clothes while the prince was looked over. Dream shied away from the reaching hands, but was never able to fully escape them. He allowed them to drag him around essentially, bringing him to the medical ward in order for the lacerations and mistreated wounds to be properly dealt with.
Everything passed in a blur, medicine being injected into his bruised arm and nurses dressing his cuts, stitching him closed; making him whole again. After what felt like just a few moments, Dream was finally left alone to rest, sinking into the pale white bed gratefully and falling asleep faster than he had in his entire life. The sun warmed his face as he drifted off, and the lightest of smiles graced his chapped lips.
As the days passed, Dream slowly healed from his time in that damp hole. He was still required to take medicine, and he still had a limp in his right leg from a nasty cut across his thigh, but he felt considerably better. His parents visited him when they had the time, his mother on the verge of tears as she held his face like fine china, and his father standing stoically by her side. It was nice when they stopped by, considering he was able to learn about what happened while he was gone. Which wasn't very much, but Dream still found it enjoyable to listen.
After some time, Dream was asked about the person that found him. The details were foggy, but he relayed the masked man to his parents, and a light seemed to come to life in his mother's eyes.
"We must find him, so we can properly thank him for rescuing our son," she stated, turning to look over her silk clad shoulder at her husband, "A ball sounds pleasant, does it not? We haven't had one for quite some time. And this man might show at it."
The king hummed thoughtfully, shifting his weight where he stood, "We can discuss it later."
His mother beamed at the man, the response a telltale sign that he was actually considering the proposal. A ball sounded pleasant actually. A livelier atmosphere than the sterile one had been bound in for some time now. That, and he could wear something other than pure white. He missed his nicer clothes.
"I think that sounds like a wonderful idea mother," Dream said, taking hold of her bejeweled hand and smiling gently at her. She was always the kinder soul of the two, and thus understandably Dream's preferred parent. His mother's smile lit up her dainty face, and she cupped her child's face like she would when he was but a boy, "You continue to get better. Your father and I will go and talk, okay?"
And with one last brush of her thumb across his freckled cheek, his parents left the room to discuss the dance.
Dream could tell the next day that they had decided to go through with it. It was all he could hear the servants out in the hall talk about. The ball would be happening in a couple of weeks, giving Dream time to recover a bit more and figure out what exactly he would be wearing. This would be the first time he returned to his room in weeks .
It certainly felt strange returning to it after so long.
A servant girl with curly ginger hair tied back into a ponytail accompanied him, standing idly by and waiting for the prince to choose what he would like to wear to the dance. Of course, many other royals have others pick their clothes for them, but Dream knows he has a good taste in fashion. It'd be an insult if someone was sent to do what he enjoyed doing himself.
There was a lot to choose from though. He was going to be here for a while.
News of the dance spread like wildfire throughout the town, people talking excitedly about who could possibly be there- and a fair portion of the women swooning over what the crown prince would be wearing. Every man, woman and child knew about the ball commemorating the return of the prince. It was near impossible to go somewhere and not hear about it.
The day of the ball, Dream stood in his room in front of his mirror, candlelight flickering all around him and illuminating the crisp forest green with gold accents suit he adorned. His crown rested atop freshly washed curls, emeralds glinting in the soft light and providing a grounding weight for him. The 'before' part of dances always made him nervous, and he fidgeted with his fisticuffs.
He knew full well that many Lords and Ladys were in the ballroom, drinking and snacking and enjoying their time. The King and Queen had decided that it would be a masquerade ball, in hopes that Dream's rescuer would find the heart to join their celebration if identities were meant to be concealed.
Raising his own brilliant green and gold mask, he placed it over the bridge of his nose, adjusted how it sat over his eyes, and huffed a breath of encouragement before exiting his room.
It was time to dance.