Our Fallen Kingdom {DNF}

Chapter 16: Experience

---

"I do." George smiled, still staring into Dream's sorrow-filled eyes. "I love you."

---

Clay walked his way out the room, head down, unnoticed. No one cared enough to ask what he was doing or to care to stop him, so he walked out freely.

The castle was cold today, though the sun shine clearly in the sky, a cool breeze swept its way through the many corridors. It sent unwanted shivers down his spine and unnecessary goosebumps along his arms.

He wondered what the hell he was doing. Why did he agree to this?

What would George think?

George, right now, was sat on his bathroom floor, shaking. He was cold and lonely and his face was stained in tears.

He didn't know what to do. He couldn't sit there forever, he knew that, but it was the least he could do for now.

With George sat panicking in his bathroom and Clay splashing his face with cold water in another, they were somewhat connected. The way both their backs were flush against tiled walls and each of them sat with their head resting in their hands. They were undeniably together.

Together in thought, apart in distance.

The distance being seven floors and a giant staircase.

After shaking his hands dry, Clay walked out, straightened himself up and bee-lined for the armoury. He needed a good sword.

---

"Do we have to do this?"

"Scared, boy?"

"Hardly. It's unnecessary violence, your majesty."

"You don't deserve to be here."

"I have every right to, I'm just like you in a way."

"You're nothing like me."

"I don't know, your majesty, I'm a bit of a cock sometimes too."

Clay laughed at his own joke but it quickly subsided as the King swung forward, anger twisting all his features.

He didn't want to attack yet, so Clay jumped backwards quickly. He held his blade, warning off the king from a second strike.

"We really don't have to do this." Clay suggested.

"You're a disgrace to humanity."

Another lunge at Clay. The fighting continued but the blonde didn't let it interrupt their much needed conversation.

"You think so? What does this," he motioned to the sword and the current fight, "what does all this show, hmm? This is humanitarian of you, is it? Because I love someone, you'd fight me with my freedom on the line. What're you sacrificing here, other than your fucking pride when I win?"

"My pride was ruined when I requested a fight with a guy like you."

Clay jousted this time, attacking swiftly to which the king barely had time to respond. The blonde had this fight in the bag, it was an easy win for him. Yet he wanted to talk.

"A guy like me? Handsome?"

"Not anymore, I've heard. Am I right? The helmet has been told to be hiding hideous features from me."

"The helmet is hiding scars and bruises from torture I'm guessing you encouraged. Wouldn't put it past you."

"You may be annoying but you aren't stupid, boy, I'll give you that."

"You haven't given me much in this world and even if I do win this, I doubt you'll give me my freedom."

"A deal is a deal. I lie, but I'm no dishonourable man."

"Debatable."

Back and fourth they went, traveling in circles and bickering between each other.

It was the blades colliding that echoed through the garden and it was that very echo that George heard from his bathroom.

Curiosity spiked first. Then worry. The anxiety that the people in the garden might be people he knew, people he loved.

But why, he asked himself. Who would be fighting?

He had one instinctive guess and the anxiety behind it was dreadful.

"Leila." He called out.

"George! Finally, I've been talking at you for ten minutes now and you haven't-"

"I know, I know. Just listen. I'm willing to put all this stuff behind us for now, I just want to change and get back to the dinner. Is that okay with you?"

"Yeah, George that's fine. I can wait outside if you'd like?"

"Yes, please. I'll be out in five minutes."

"Okay, bye for now."

He heard his door open and then slam and a few faint footsteps outside his door. This told him she'd listened and it also told him he had time. Yes, he'd change. But first, he'd look to the gardens. The balcony overlooks the whole place, he knows this.

But for some reason, his feet glued themselves to the floor and his lungs refused to breathe.

What if it was Clay?

What would he do?

His heart raced, his mind span. He had to grab onto a nearby shelf to steady himself before his leg succumbed to their jelly-like feel. Despite all of this, he'd edged forward enough to see half of the gardens. The pond rippled casually and the grass was surprisingly only a mid length. The familiar blues of the flowers and the greens of the trees rendered softly in his view.

But then so did blonde hair. And heavy armour. And his father? The king.

The king was fighting Clay.

Should he call out? No, that's too much attention redirected right at him. He needs to run, create a distraction. Anything but sit and watch.

Forgetting to change and remembering Leila was behind the door, he believed his best option was to just take off running. She'd get lost and he'd get out. Win, win.

Clay, however, was losing momentarily. He lost his balance whilst taking endlessly about how awful the King must be. He slipped and whilst scrambling to stand back up, the king nicked the back of his leg with his blade. Not hard enough to seriously injure him, just hard enough to make him bleed.

Due to his newfound injury, Clay felt himself being backed into a corner. Not a physical corner, a mental corner. One that increased his panic and told himself that he had no escape, that he would lose.

He would lose everything. George, his home, his family, his life. He couldn't.

"DREAM!"

He recognised that voice. The king hadn't registered it though, he instead was close to lunging forward. Though the fight was to disarm, the king looked to be fighting for Clay's death.

As he watched the Kings blade edge closer he heard the small footsteps running towards them. Small footsteps that didn't know what they were doing.

Footsteps that didn't know what they were getting into.

The sword was a metre away before he saw her.

Haitie.

Though the sword seemed a lot closer now he sees it planted deep in her chest.

______________________________________