Chapter Text
The boy did not know how long he had been running, but he knew he could not stop now.
The sounds of the king’s horses behind them pounded in the boy’s ears, becoming a garbled roar that sounded like a massive wave was cresting behind him, ready to swallow him whole. But the boy was nimble, and the boy was smart. He dove to the side, scraping the bottoms of his feet on the hardened frost that sat in a thick blanket upon the grass, then shot back in the direction from whence he’d come. The king’s horses spooked and squealed, buying the boy precious seconds as the knights fought to regain control of their mounts. One of them, a well-dressed man upon a hulking black monster of an animal, raised his arm and shot his crossbow. The boy ducked, feeling an arrow graze his cheek and leave it stinging in the biting night air. His lungs were full of fire and he tasted blood in his mouth. The forest was thick, unforgiving to even the most experienced of woodspeople, and the boy knew that he could not match the stamina of a dozen massive horses.
So he did the one thing horses could not: climb.
Two more arrows sliced their ways up his back as he fought his way through the tangled branches, leaving two open wounds in their wake that dribbled warm blood down his skin. The boy’s breath came out in clouds above him. He reached for another branch only to have the tree shake violently, nearly sending him crashing to the ground.
“Again!” Came a booming voice from below. The man on the black horse stared up at him with thunderous eyes. The boy felt fear in his chest. Boom . The tree shook once more, creaking, and the boy’s grip on the damp bark loosened. He tried to regain his hold but his freezing hands were stiff and the creeping tendrils of exhaustion had begun their slow descent down his arms and into his fingers. Boom . The tree careened sideways. The boy felt himself fall into open air.
He hit the ground with enough force to knock him out cold.
When he woke, he was significantly warmer. His head hurt like it had never hurt before, and he had several more bruises and scrapes along his arms and legs that he did not remember getting.
Suddenly realizing where he was, the boy scrambled onto all fours and backed himself into one of the cell’s corners. A massive figure stood before him on the other side of the bars, holding the single torch that flooded the room with flickering orange light.
“Can you speak?” The man asked.
The boy did not answer. He could speak, in fact; it had been years since his mother had taught him the complicated tongue of the kingdoms, but he remembered it nonetheless. He bared his teeth and growled.
“I believe you can, boy.” The man’s voice was deep, eerily calm. The boy noticed an ornate sword hanging at his side. “If you had a head upon your shoulders, you’d answer to your king.”
“Not my king.” The boy’s voice was hoarse from disuse.
The king let out a cold, barking laugh. “Not your king? You’re a sharp little fellow.”
The boy flattened himself against the floor, his scabs opening with sharp pricks of pain and oozing blood.
“I have never seen anyone run as fast as you ran back there,” The king said. He began to pace up and down the length of the small room, hands folded in front of him. “And my soldiers tell me you’re quite the nasty little bastard with a sword. Are you trained?”
The boy shook his head. Fighting had always been something that came to him naturally; having to fight off animals and other street urchins for scraps of food had made him strong, nearly unbeatable against the other children when he had a weapon.
“You’ve caused far too much trouble for me to release you. I’ve gotten many complaints about you causing trouble.”
The king smiled, but his eyes were cold and glass-like. “I’m going to give you a proposition. In exchange for your life, you will indebt yourself to me and become a knight in my army. I believe that with some proper training, you could become a valuable asset.”
The boy spit on the ground before the king’s feet. There was ice in the pit of his chest.
The king narrowed his glittering eyes. “Should you refuse my offer, you will promptly be executed.”
Death or a life of servitude. What good options , thought the boy bitterly. I’d sooner kill myself than serve him.
“You will be fed, clothed, given a place to sleep,” the king continued. “There are boys your age being trained as you would be. You could have friends. A purpose to serve a greater cause.”
Friends. The boy had never had a friend before. On the streets, friends were a liability.
“I suggest you give me an answer before I revoke my offer entirely. This is not generosity you have earned, boy.”
“Fine.” The boy hissed. He just wanted to be out of his cell. He’d find a way to escape; he was sure of it. For now, he’d placate the king and save his own hide while he concocted a plan.
The wry, toothless smile the king gave him sent a wave of fear down the boy’s spine.
~
“This is George. Crown prince of the SMP kingdom.”
The boy stared at the prince on the throne, earning himself a curled lip. “You’re supposed to bow,” said the prince coldly.
The boy bent himself over at the waist, smiling toothily. The prince leaned over to his father and hissed something in his ear. The king’s face soured with exasperation.
“... the best of all the training knights...” the boy only heard snippets of the king’s whispered reply. “...you don’t have to like him; he’s not a lord-in-waiting...”
The boy held down his smirk. Never in his life had he seen someone he liked less than the crown prince of the Sola-Manticoli-Polar kingdom (Sola-Manticoli-Polar? What a stupid name). The prince couldn’t have been much older than he was, and the boy could tell already that he towered over his lithe, wiry frame. On the streets, the boy would have eaten the sour-faced prince for lunch.
Seemingly annoyed by his son’s rising aggression, the king waved his hand in the air to shut the prince up (oh, what the boy would have given to have that kind of power over that little sod!) and focused his attention back on the boy. “You. What is your name again?”
“Dream,” he said proudly. His friend Sapnap had given it to him because he could knock the other boys out cold with his punches. It was the most badass name ever.
“That’s a stupid name,” the prince piped in, fiddling with his crown. “Are you a warlock or something?”
“George,” the king warned. Dream hoped he would get to see him kick his son’s ass. “I’d like Dream to be your personal bodyguard. There is nobody better-suited for keeping you safe.”
“No!” They shouted in unison.
The king looked like he wanted to slap them both. “Dream has been here for nearly six months,” he continued, keeping his calm. “His skills are far above the other trainees; I feel like I can trust him with your safety.”
George sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “He’s a street boy. He’ll probably steal my shit.”
“Language, George.” The king tightened his jaw. “I did not bring you two here to discuss this. My decision is final, and if either of you sabotage or undermine my authority, then you will be subject to serious punishment. Approach, Dream.”
Dream took a couple reluctant steps forward. As he neared, George shrunk into himself, frowning petulantly. “He is not kissing my hand,” he mumbled.
The king rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t have to. Bow again, Dream, and this can be over soon.”
Dream bowed again. He ached to be back out in the training yard with the other boys. Sapnap would laugh until he pissed himself when he found out the shit position he was in.
“You will accompany George whenever he leaves the castle premises, as well as to and from any royal meetings that take place. As a prince, there aren’t many he needs to attend, but they will be nearly weekly when he becomes king.” The king rubbed his hands together. “You shall also be posted outside his room at night whenever he or I ask.”
George put his face in his hands. “I do not need a bodyguard!”
“I had one when I was your age! He’s saved my life many times.” The king gestured towards Dream with an open hand. “Even to this day he is a very good friend of mine.”
George rolled his eyes. “Sure. Can we be done now, please?”
The king nodded. “You’re free to leave, Dream. I shall call you when I need you.”
Dream could barely stop himself from running out of the castle doors. Sapnap waited for him in the training yard, eyebrows raised. “Dude, the others told me you’d been summoned by the king! Are you being executed or something?”
Dream sat up against the old fighting dummy and pressed his eyes into his knees. “I wish. I’m the prince’s personal bodyguard now.”
Sapnap cackled. “Dude! That’s awesome! I bet the perks will be amazing. You can see so many royal ladies.”
“Are you kidding?” Dream said. “I hate this! The prince is awful!”
Sapnap tapped him on the shoulder with his sword. “You’ve met him once; I’m sure he’ll be fine. All you have to do is make sure he doesn’t die.”
“Fine.” Dream did not feel convinced. He rose to his feet and caught his wooden sword as Sapnap tossed it to him. “If I have to make a daring escape to get out of this place, you’re coming with me.”
Sapnap grinned. “Deal.”