A Kingdom of Dreams

There's Something Here, I Can Tell

The ride to the woods was silent, and much more slowly paced after nearly dying. George's near-death experience had left him too unsteady to steer properly, and the best he could do was hold on to Circinus' reins as he trotted slowly after Dream.

The wind continued to whistle, high-pitched in  his ears as they slowly approached the beast of a forest, making conversation undesirable. Any attempts at communication would be immediately swept away by the wind, carried off by the piercing coolness that was stinging at George's eyes. George was minutely jealous of Dream's mask, with it's wind-blocking solidity.

As they continued on, George's train of thought followed Dream's mask. Something about it — he just couldn't pinpoint it. It felt like something he'd seen before, though now he couldn't explain why. Oddly, whenever he attempted to remember the origins of the masks' familiarity, all he could think of was a book. Something very old, bounded in scarred leather.

He'd have to ask the librarian, Antfrost, later. Or perhaps Velvet would know instead, considering he always seemed to be there with Antfrost.

Still, though, even as George tried to shake it off, he couldn't. It was nearly driving him insane with how close the information was in his mind and how elusive it continued to be as he tried to reach into his memory for some sort of hint.

Something, something about it. That leather book, pages yellowed with age. What had the title been?

After so many years since, George couldn't remember. It was an old, leather-bound book, though. All he could do now was hope that Antfrost would remember.

That mask, ringing with familiarity, turned back to him and jarred him out of his thoughts.

"Your Highness," Dream began as George scowled, "is there a place in particular that you would like to visit?"

Before even thinking of a reply, George replied monotonously, "Don't call me that."

A few moments later, after giving his question some thought, he shook his head.

"I've never been out here. Somewhere quiet, probably open, so the horses can fit. Sheltered, too, to protect us from this godforsaken wind," he replied. George had no idea if a place like that genuinely existed within the untamed forest, but with all the space within, he assumed some part of it would suffice.

"I think I know a spot, then," answered Dream. He steered his own horse away from an exposed rock, and as George mirrored his action a question came to mind.

"You've been out here before?" asked George as Circinus avoided the rock and continued in a straight line perpendicular to Dream.

"Too many times to count," Dream mused, casting the forest a wry upwards glance. "It's dangerous, but with enough time within it's manageable."

George furrowed his eyebrows at Dream, shaking his head. He was enigma, if nothing else. He was only eighteen, yet he seemed far older than George. He had been outside the walls, for one. And for seconds, he'd been out long enough to have the skill to traverse the forest.

And, above all, he had authority that George, even as prince, didn't. Something about him was clearly untold to George that would explain all of this, something that would help to fill the gap of knowledge George currently held.

"Is it dangerous?" George questioned, much like a curious child. He knew he sounded immature and inexperienced, but the genuine curiosity washed out his dignity.

"It can be," Dream answered patiently. "Though, armor helps."

George glanced down at himself self-consciously. He had never worn armor as a part of his daily attire. It had never seemed necessary, with the guaranteed safety he had always assumed he'd have, as the heir to the throne. He made a mental note to start wearing the Netherite set that had been gifted to him on his 16th. It was pristine and unmarred by scratched or dents, and George was reluctant to waste it's perfection with daily tasks. He'd only worn it when it was necessary for him to make a public appearance, and it had never been used for practicality alone.