The Tragic and the Pure - DreamNotFound

Chapter 9

George POV

Time held no value here.

He lost himself in the slide of blade against flesh, to the brain rattle of brutal fists. His skin seared with pain of a burn similar to lemon juice, marred with the leathery imprint of a whip. He vaguely heard shouting, word of his presence having reached the captive dragons.

At some point rough hands lifted him from the floor, and he found himself tossed into freezing water. The icy droplets quickly tainted red, revealing purple and black skin beneath the scarlet stains. Scratchy fabric tugged over his wounds, arms twisted behind his back to be clasped with metal cuffs.

George squinted his swollen eyes open, blinking in the fire lit room. Sam and two mysterious dragon guards sneered at him, their noses wrinkled as though they were looking at something disgusting. 

"You and I are going on a little trip." Sam informed him. "Couldn't have that monster thinking you're already dead."

That monster? Did he mean Dream? George lacked the energy to ask. He lost track of how long he'd been down here, enduring torture and starvation what felt like day after day.

"Keep an eye on things while I am gone." Sam ordered the two guards. "With luck the meeting will go flawlessly, and I'll be back before midnight."

"How are you sure you will not be killed on sight?" One of the guards commented. "Surely it's best not to go yourself?" 

Sam grunted with a dismissive wave. "Our intentions will not appear sincere if I send another in my stead. I am bringing that with me in case things go south. You need not worry."

George shifted his sore knees on the rough stone floor. Their albeit quiet voices pummeled his brain and worsened his throbbing headache, leaving him grasping for understanding of the concealed meaning behind their words.

Boots clacked closer, and he'd no time to register Sam's approach before his arms yanked to the sky. 

The dragon guard held the chain of his handcuffs in a brutal grip, dragging the prince to his feet without care. George's bare feet fumbled for a hold on the ground, gritting his teeth to prevent a cry of protest from escaping his chapped lips. 

The two other guards exchanged a look that screamed how pathetic. George wished there were saliva left in his mouth to spit at their ugly faces. He mustered the last of his energy to lock them in a fierce glare, though he knew he merely appeared an exhausted kitten swiping harmless little claws.

His vision swathed black, and he jerked his head at the abrupt sensation. Sam's deep growl sounded behind him in warning, and his chest heaved as fabric secured tightly over his eyes.

 A blindfold.

George fought to steady his breathing, combing through what little information he'd gathered. The King had proposed a rendezvous to someone, and based on Sam's earlier slip, that person was Dream. The revelation sent his stomach dipping and tumbling into a sick mess. Dream had grown to despise him, and George couldn't blame him. He'd never even given the dirty blond a chance before writing him off.

He'd wrongly villainized his own lover.

"Alert the king to my departure, he will awaiting notice that the meeting has begun." Sam's arms clasped the prince's middle. 

"Right away, sir." 

Sam made no reply, and George's heart lurched into his throat as the dragon burst forward. Air rushed his cheeks, having forgotten how fast a dragon could run. The world whisked around him, the echo of the stone tunnel fading and replaced by a gust of fresh air. He received not a second to breathe the refreshing change of atmosphere, his body launched into nothingness.