World Reign of Theseus

Some Things are Meant to be Untouched

It was the calm before the storm. Both Wilbur and Techno knew it. As the morning sun rose beyond the hills, it marked the second last day of the summer festivals. Wilbur woke up rather early, thinking about everything that could go wrong. It was all in such a rush. A head of sweat started to drip down, unprepared for the uncertainty.

"Brother, prepare the soldiers. It's going to get messy," Dream said to Foolish, a smile plastered on his face.
It was funny how some people can be so discrete. Dream was casually jumping roof to roof when he saw George, Wilbur, and Techno in a room. He had stopped the time to approach into closer distance, and when he resumed the time, he could hear the whole conversation from outside the window.
No, Dream wasn't mad. He wasn't even surprised. He was just a little bit hurt. The knife in his back slightly twisted.
"No worries. They'll arrive just in time for the battle. Perhaps, even earlier. I'm estimating around 9:30am tomorrow!" Foolish replied back, pulling the telephone away from his ear.
"Alright. I'll let you do that. Make sure Mother is safe, alright?" Dream said, looking straight into Foolish's eyes.
"Yup, no problem. What are you doing?" Foolish asked, knowing there was something wrong. Something Dream was rushing to.
"I need to go check on Theseus. I'll be right back," Dream replied, a weird feeling stirring in the bottom of his stomach.
"Just let the poor kid be. He isn't a going to remember" Foolish sighed, feeling the creases of his forehead.
Dream just smiled back, knowing very well Foolish doesn't fully understand their friendship.
"Don't worry, Brother. You wouldn't get it. I'll stop one day, I promise," Dream said back, feeling a part of himself slowly break down.
Foolish continued to stare at Dream until he made a small smile.
"Alright. I trust you," Foolish nodded, knowing that some things are better left unheard than being known...just like the assassination that happened many years ago.

••••••

To be honest, prince Foolish was always a smart child. At the age of four, he was very attentive, and he payed close attention to his surroundings. From the first day, he knew someone was following him, stalking his movements whenever he was out of the palace grounds. Foolish ignored it at first, holding tightly onto his mothers hands, squeezing tightly with his smaller fingers. Unfortunately, it seemed like not even the guards had figured it out. Knowing really well what was happening to him, though it was only an assumption, Foolish stayed close to emperor Puffy's side at all costs. By the one week mark, there was almost no sign of the stalker. Maybe they caught on and went back to hiding. Foolish had no idea. By the two and a half week mark, they were gone completely. Foolish slowly began to doubt himself and his own sense of awareness. After all, it could all be a trick to his mind! He's only 4 at that time.
Finally, the only time Foolish was alone, sitting quietly next to an ice cream stand with Puffy talking to some other villagers. The guards were on break as there was not much danger around. It was a mother-son bonding time. The few people walking around were either paying attention to emperor Puffy or minding their own business. The streets were quite empty. Even so, Foolish's own instincts pushed through. There was something wrong.
In the small amount of time, there was a fast movement even Foolish's instincts couldn't keep up. Someone was charging straight at him. Foolish tried to get up and run, but he was too slow. Just. Too. Slow.

There was blood. Too much blood.
An unhealthy amount of blood. His blood.
"Shit. There wasn't a moment where this guy was all alone. I had to do it now with still some people around. Shit," a voice said.
Oh. Someone was sent to kill him. That made sense now. Foolish was going to die. He could feel himself getting pulled into the depths of an ocean; cold ropes pulling his body down and down. There was no end. It was a sudden jolt of warmth where the stab wound was before everything around him was ice cold. His vision blurred before he heard his own name get called.
But Foolish was too tired. His small body just wouldn't push his head up to see who was calling him. He wished he could just lie there and never wake back up. It hurt, the numbness of his stomach began to create a big pain.
Foolish knew at that moment that he was going to die. He wasn't going to deny his own fate. Maybe he was born just to die.