Flame and Spade (A DreamNotFound Story)

Chapter 2

The prince sighed. He had risen from his bed not long ago and was now tucked into his window seat. It was his favourite place in the castle, carved from the volcanic rock and netherwart that the palace was built onto.

George adored his room in the tower, higher than any room in the palace. It made him feel as if he was flying, isolated from the world. The outside world was gloomy today, mist shrouding the lava lakes that normally glistened and shone.

George tucked his feet back into his soft robe, snuggling back into the plush pillows lining the seat. George's room was one to be envied. Perched at the top of the tower, it was circular and had lofty walls, soaring three stories high.

It was there that George was sitting, a precarious catwalk connecting his window seat to steep stairs carved into the walls. An opulent four poster bed was shoved to the wall, pillows heaped on the velvet duvet, so cloud like you could sink into it.

George loved comfort, and he loved more than anything to read. He craved warmth, craved adventure and therefore spent his days curled up with any book he could get his greedy hands on. George's image outside of his room was different.

Though the Nether was hot, acidic and covered in lava, the royal palace seemed to leech ice and cold from the Overworld high above. It radiated similar views to the people of the Nether - cruel, cold, and icy calculating. That's why George read. For hours at a time, he could vanish. Escape. Be whoever he wanted, wherever he wanted.

To leave his menace of a brother, his parents, everyone. George signed again, glancing outside. A knock sounded out, leaving George to scramble down and wrench his door open.

A maid held out a mug, thrusting it into his hands with a scowl and turned to briskly clop down the stairs. George took a sip as he mulled over what to wear. Dressing himself in a rich, crimson red tunic with billowing silver trousers, he smiled.

They hugged his curves nicely, gathered at the end with cuffs of solid netherite. He dragged a comb through his hair, and paused before slipping through his door to put on his mask. You couldn't see it - in fact, neither could George, but it was a mask nonetheless.

For the George he truly was; bubbly, kind, funny, and shy could never be seen outside his room. Outside of these walls, he was Georgios II, Son of Queen Colephire and King Alodar. He was brutal. He was cruel. He was ice.

Gold boots clacked down the marble stairs as George strode into the immense dining hall glancing off the foyer. He stifled a groan upon seeing his mother, dressed as always in a gauzy chiffon dress, glittering with heaps of jewels adorning her neck and fingers.

Creeping to the Jacobian sideboard the swallowed half the wall and stretched the full length of the dining room, George scooped up some bacon into a linen cloth and stuffed a few hard boiled eggs and apples into his pocket.

He was all set to go, slipping the food into his worn leather satchel and turning to sneak out of the hall - but he hadn't noticed the slight swish of skirts on cold marble floor behind him.

"Georgios, what are you doing?" Queen Colephire said, clamping a hand on his shoulder. Fighting the urge to wince, George dropped his hand to his side.

"Oh, nothing Mother. Have you been up for very long?"

His mother's grip on him tightened. "Yes, my darling. I trust you slept well, for you need your energy for tomorrow. After all, it is the Tithe and your debut. And I'd hate to see you mess it up. Right?"

Her nails were clamping onto his shoulder now, so tight he could tell it would bruise.

"Of course not, Mother. I would never,"George resisted squirming as much as he could, curling his hands into a fist to ignore the pain in his shoulder. "disappoint you."

"Very well, Georgios. It would be best for you to forget all your silly little pastimes and focus on your debut." She relinquished his shoulder, turning to refill her teacup full of tonic. George focused on putting one foot in front of the other all the way to the gaping entrance. But he paused, turning to Colephire.

"Did a package come today? It was meant to be here a while ago..." George asked, a sick feeling slithering around his stomach.

Queen Colephire hummed, slowly lifting her teacup and turning to face George. He took in her small smile, the sick feeling now spreading to wrap around his heart.

"Oh, yes, a package did arrive a while ago. I thought it was rubbish, so I ordered the servants to incinerate it. There was nothing special in it, right?"

George felt as if someone had wrapped a frosty hand around his heart and squeezed all heat out of it. The shipment had contained first edition books from the Overworld, practically priceless as they were banned in the Nether. It had taken him a year just to negotiate their journey to the Nether, not to mention how long they had taken to arrive.

Gritting his teeth, he ground out a "Nothing special at all, Mother." Tears crept to his eyes, so he spun on his heel and forced himself to walk slowly out the hall. Each step felt like pillars of frost had impaled his feet.

George began to walk faster, footsteps echoing off of the bleak corridor walls. They seemed to mock him, jeering, thudding in his ears. Walking through the main corridors, he sank his nails into his palms to keep from sprinting away from it all. Over and over in his head, he repeated the only words that had kept him going over the years.

I must not show weakness.

I must not show weakness.

I must not show weakness.

I must not show weakness.

Finally, he reached the rough stone walls of the servant's wing of the palace. No one was around to see him now. He started to run.

Down a spiral staircase he fled, bursting through the stable doors. Pausing only long enough to snatch his navy blue cloak from a peg, George jumped atop his favourite Strider, Cressida, and dashed from the castle.

Over the lava he flew, urging her to go faster and faster. His teeth chattered, lips turning blue, tears flooding his eyes and blurring his vision. They ran down his face, getting whisked away by the wind.

George's cape billowed behind him, the hood whipped from his face, letting cold wind sting his cheeks. He started to sob, burying his face into Cressida's soft feathers. He had nowhere to hide now, nowhere to escape to.

His body heaved, eyes too dry to cry anymore. Even as George surged over hissing lava, all he could feel was aching, numbing cold.

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Second chapter yey! This one took me ages to write cause my wifi went down for like a week (ಥ ͜ʖಥ) but im back and better than ever babeyyyyy-

as always, hope yall enjoyed! have a great day and don't forget to vote & comment!

xo, minecraft idiot ☆*:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆