Flame and Spade (A DreamNotFound Story)

Chapter 3

George dragged himself out of bed amid raucous knocking coming from his door. "God, do they ever stop?"

He stumbled to his door and threw it open. "What?!" He mumbled annoyedly, rubbing his eyes. A wide eyed servant lowered her fist.

"Very sorry, Your Highness, but the Tithe candidate from the Overworld will be here soon. Your mother wishes you to rise and get ready." She scampered off, with not even a nod.

Right. The Tithe. George found it as a whole quite bothersome and stuffy, the only bit he ever enjoyed was getting to go visit the Host Village in the Overworld for the scant few hours a year he was ever out of the Nether.

This year, it was a boy named Dream. Hm, and only a few years younger than him...George had never made a friend from the Tithe, had never let himself dare.

It would be even worse than normal with his debut dances and banquets. Even so, a small kernel of hope glimmered in his chest, that this Overworld boy could be his first friend.

Lazily, he dressed, taking pride in looking good. Bathing in a scented bubble bath carved out of Netherite, scented candles wafted around the airy bathroom.

The bath was possibly his second favourite place in the castle. The bathtub was immense, dominating half of the room and dropping sheerly off the side of the tower.

Steaming water flowed right to the edge and disappeared, with a wall gone to make a huge window showing a panorama of the far off mountains.

The other side of the bathroom contained a smooth marble sink, the toilet, and a massive boudoir containing the fluffiest towels possible. George groaned in pleasure as his aching muscles hit the hot water, tired from a restless night's sleep.

He could barely remember eating his paltry breakfast yesterday, as he had promptly fell asleep under a grove of trees, Cressida warming herself in a lava pond nearby. She had scooped him up onto her back around dusk, and he had sleepily stumbled back to his tower refuge. Staring up at the gilded ceiling painted with strange Overworld "angels", he finished washing and lugged himself out of the tub.

George fussed with his hair, sweeping it into a middle parting (A/N: Picture an eboy haircut.) and crossed over to his walk-in closet.

Studying himself, he pulled on some dark red booty shorts, layering them under some sheer, silk burgundy pants. He loved the way they billowed out, allowing for breeze yet cuffed at the ends with obsidian.

The Prince plucked a silver charmeuse top from his closet. It was the perfect top to complete his ensemble, a shimmering silver with elegant slightly puffed off the shoulder sleeves and obsidian cuffs. He tugged on some silver chains and obsidian earrings, and twriled in the mirror.

It was perfect, especially to meet the new Overworlder, George thought, smiling softly.

Lastly, he slung a heavy, inky velvet cloak to combat the chill he almost always carried with him. Slipping on his shoes, he strode from his room, confident for the first time in what seemed like ages.

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Clay was glad he had had the insight to change out of his Nether clothes a few miles down the path, for he was sure you could smell the stench radiating from him in the Nether already.

He and Galadriel had ridden hard, stopping for a short snack, and had reached the Portal Hall sooner than he had anticipated. What he hadn't anticipated was how sweaty he would get.

No matter, Clay thought. There were bathing chambers in the Portal Room that he could use to freshen up. Truth be told, Clay was more nervous than he would've liked to admit.

The Prince was said to be handsome, yet cruel, which summed up the Nether. Clay had no idea what the Nether was like - all paintings the Overworld had were hundreds of years old, and the Tithe candidates were all sworn to secrecy.

A branch grazing Clay's cheek shook him from his thoughts, noting his surroundings. The "road" he had to follow was little more than a deer path, impossible to find if you didn't know it was there.

Galadriel trotted through a dense dark oak forest, trees knitted so close into a canopy sunlight scarcely squeezed past the fence of sword-like branches.

Fairly soon, Clay was roused from dozing off when Galadriel's hoofbeats turned from dusty thumps to a sharp clip-clop. The path had turned into a broad stone passage, cutting sharply through a ravine.

Clay looked around rapidly, wondering what happened to the forest he had just been in - it was nowhere to be seen. The ravine had seemingly come out of nowhere, with jagged sides that rose up farther than he could see.

"What the -" Clay muttered, hand resting tensely on the hilt of his sword. Then, around a sharp turn, he saw it. The Portal Hall.

It's walls were uneven and lopsided, warping and none the same length. They were made of polished black and white checkered marble squares, with no windows.

It was more elegant than he had expected, with an elaborate carved stone fencing leading up to it. Gargoyles were peppered on the walls at random, spouting water even though it wasn't raining.

Grabbing his satchel from Galadriel and smacking him on the rump to canter home, Clay stalked into the Portal Hall. Slipping past the ornate golden gates that were in lieu of doors, Clay gasped in awe.

The ceilings soared high above his head, much taller than possible for the building. To illuminate the place, candles floated through the air, wax spiraling up them from centuries of use.

The hallway stretched out farther than he could see, for a shimmering most seemed to settle over the hall like silence. Portals lining the walls made with seamless slabs of marble seemed to transport you to a different place with each one.

As Clay walked down the hall in wonder, he passed portals from all corners of the globe. One made from jagged ice drifted soft snowflakes like powdered sugar onto the floor.

Through another, crafted from wet sand and made to look like a sandcastle, Clay could hear the faint roaring of the sea. Slowly, he spun in complete awe, speechless.

The absolute elegance and beauty could never wear off. Soft stars twinkled on the ceiling high above, magic breezes wafting the smell of morning dew down the hallway.

Clay soon found the bath portal, and stepped through, swiftly cleaning up and changing into a new Nether outfit. Gripping the sides of the sink basin, he stared at himself in the mirror.

"You can do this, Clay. I believe in you." He said, knuckles turning white. "No. Not Clay, I'm Dream from this moment on." With that, Dream was born. Fearless. Clever. Sly. Brave.

Picking up his bag, he returned to the hallway and found the Nether Portal. It was easily the largest in the hallway, and menacing thoughts emanated from it.

Made of obsidian, with it's deep purple screen, all Clay could feel was intense heat radiating from the other side. Gulping, he mustered up whatever bravado he had, and stepped in before he could back out.

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helooooo my lovelies (* ^ ω ^)
tysm for 50 reads! it means a ton to me <3

the next chapter is gonna be loooong and fairly thicc, so it might mean another day or so of writing. hope u understand!

also, sorry for the authors note in the chapter, i normally don't put them in the middle of chapters bc i find that unprofessional, but i felt that you couldn't get a good picture of the scene in your head if i hadn't put it. sorry! („ಡωಡ„)

have a fab day! you are loved and appreciated!
xo, minecraft idiot     (￣▽￣*)ゞ

ps: turns out a pararaph glitched out, so i fixed that and made a few other minor edits. tysm for the kind comments! <33