The King's Obligation

What if I'm Not Good Enough?

George paces around his room in the late hours of the night. Going from one side of his room to the other. No matter what he tries, he can't seem to calm the thoughts in his head, thoughts that trail back to his conversation with Philza earlier that day.

"You monarchs watch us from your tall castles as your people starve to death."

"It's a wonder someone didn't kill your parents sooner."

"People steal from the rich because the rich take from the poor first."

They buzz around his mind in maddening chaos. It's not like George wants to be an asshole or has no compassion for the poor, it's just he doesn't know what to do about it. As much as Phill and his family irk and hurt him to no end, he can't deny the truth in what the old man said. "I just," George mumbles to himself, running his fingers through his slightly knotted hair.

"I just don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to do."

George walks over to his bed and falls back in defeat. He stares clueless at his ceiling for what feels like countless hours until an idea dawns upon him. He cocks his head, turning it to look at the door situated directly across from his bed, on the other side of the room.

George moves to stand up, making his way over to the door. He gets about halfway before coming to a halt. "Should I even be asking?" He whispers.

Thoughts jumble around in his mind but he pushes them down. He approaches the door, placing knuckles to the door. He takes a deep breath. He knocks then back away. The silence and waiting for an answer is unbearable. George holds his hand to his chest, his heartbeats anxiously. A couple of minutes later a voice can be heard from the other side. "Yes?"

George exhales and makes his way to the door. "Hey Dream." He says softly.

George lightly presses his face up against the door so he can hear through the other side better. Dream's voice is groggy and hoarse. "Is something wrong Your Highness? You aren't hurt, are you?"

George shakes his head with a heavy sigh. "No, no. I just ... Can't fall asleep."

"Why is that?"

"I-"

George slides to the floor in defeat, his head in his hands. "I don't know how I'm supposed to lead this country..."

There's a brief pause before Dream responds, his words laced with care but he hesitates in his speech. "O-ok... What do you want me to do? Like, how can I help? Also, do you need me to come over there?"

"No, no, it's fine. We can just talk like this."

His breathing hitches as he speaks. "I just... I need advice."

Another long pause of silence lingers on after George's words.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid! Don't burden him with your problems!" George's words shriek at him.

George knows Dream isn't adequate enough to help sort out all of his kingly problems. Hell, his only job is to make sure he's safe and not a scratch touches his body. However, he still finds himself on the floor in the late hours of the night, near a mental breakdown, begging for his help. He feels so foolish. "You-you want my help?"

Dream sounds confused but at the same time, dumbfounded. George pulls his knees to his chest and buries his head into them. He nods. "Ye-yeah... I guess I do."

George hears Dream lightly cough. He stutters as he speaks. "Are...Are you sure you don't wanna like, y-you know? Talk to Bad abou-about this,"

George feels the corners of his eyes begin to mist. "I mean...He's like, your ad-advisor and stuff..."