Butterfly Reign

19. Don't Need You

Wilbur was right after all.

It hasn't been two full days since their conversation when Tommy receives an inscribed notice: the Emperor is putting him in charge of trading affairs between the Empire and Badlands, and is to participate in meetings that would take place by the end of the week.

The way it's worded inadvertently suggests that Tommy's on probation and the decision can be changed at any time. More so, if he considers that three days is a ridiculously short term for him to get ready while there are still duties in need of his immediate attention.

It's like the Emperor expects Tommy to fail. Nothing out of ordinary, he supposes - the monarch always seems to have doubts when it comes to the crown prince, despite the fact that he hasn't ever given him a reason for that. Tommy has proven himself capable before, and he'll do it again.

He calls for Beau, and as soon as she arrives Tommy gestures at a pile of reports on the desk.

"I'm granting you full access to the document archives. Search for more there if needed, or talk to the Minister of Foreign Affairs, but I need these looked over and summarized in two days at most. And, for the love of everything - put the index on the first page. I hate to turn to the end each time."

Beau leaves, hauling the pile into her arms, and that seals Tommy's solitude for the rest of the day. Dream apologized profusely for not being able to keep Tommy company today; he and Sapnap were meeting up with a friend.

They never specified who that friend was; Tommy never asked, and guarded his expression so as not to let his disappointment show. He was wasting enough of Dream's time as it is. At the bottom of things, they were just acquaintances - or allies, at best - and the crown prince of Esempi had just enough obligations before Tommy as he had before a potted tree.

Tommy tunes to the sounds from outside his office. Click-clack-click of Dream's swift stride has him perking up and peeking out the hallway. The only people he finds there are the guards stationed at the doors. Tommy stands there for so long, scouring the corridors with a gaze, that they start sharing questioning looks. In the end the crown prince grabs a pile of paperwork and carries them into a parlor further down the hallway, where all sounds are swallowed by soft carpets and a living soul is rarely seen.

Afternoon leaks into dusk with Tommy hunched over books and tendrils of papers. By the time he has to light a reading lamp, his legs turn sore and his head sinks deeper and deeper into his palm. He tries to massage some life back into his stiff neck, blinking rapidly to prevent his eyelids from getting glued by sleep.

Knock-knock-knock. It doesn't sound like a rap of knuckles on wood and rather resembles a dry branch jabbing against a glass window. Sluggishly, Tommy makes an effort to turn his head to the side and face the bastard who dares to interrupt his rest, but his mind decides that it's not worth the energy to be wasted.

In a floating state of near unconsciousness, Tommy doesn't realize that somebody's standing before him until he is jostled into awareness by something touching his wrist. Locking his fingers on the book's spine, he swings it at the person blindly.

"Woah-" a blurry figure of sea greens and rusty gold reers back. "Sorry, sorry-" The voice sounds vaguely familiar.

"Dream?" Tommy blinks, confused, and surely enough, drifting shapes start merging with one another until he sees green eyes studying him with amusement.

"Yeah, that'd be me," Dream chuckles, straightening up. "You can put your weapon down now."

Tommy is still holding the book over his head, and his face blazes red when he realizes that he had nearly smashed Dream with a history of commerce in the Antarctic Empire. He slaps the book on top of a pile. The noise wakes him up a bit more. Tommy draws his sore muscles back and looks at Dream, rubbing a thumb in-between his furrowing brows.