𝚔𝚊𝚔𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚘𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚋𝚒𝚊 {𝘋𝘕𝘍 }

0.6 - A is for anxiety and apples

yoyo its ya boi - depressed milf

666 ayyyyyyy devil number mean sins will happen

anyways time for more angst and gay whoopwhoop ( next chap may be wild wink wonk )

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"You're late."

"Breakfast is important if we're doing exercise. Here." The King tossed a red apple over to Dream, who was waiting impatiently. He caught it instantly, staring at the fruit with a sense of unfamiliarity. "You didn't eat this morning, did you?"

The man stared, before taking a few quick bites and shoving it onto the nearby bench. George took off his crown and cape, folding them neatly next to the half devoured apple. Once his things were put away neatly, he turned to Dream and went to grab his sword from its sheath.

"Not so fast, Your Grace. We need to work on your agility first." The soldier widened his stance, hands gesturing forwards. "Try and get past me."

George sighed, straightening his collar. "I'm fast enough, I just need more technique, more moves-"

"You need more basics. You're sloppy, now attack." Dream dug his heel into the dirt and opened his arms up, but George still didn't move.

"Sloppy? I was trained by experienced battle commanders and-"

"And clearly they were sloppy too." The King still looked at him in disbelief. The guard rolled his eyes. "You step before you punch, you look where you are going to hit. You also breathe in before moving, your neck tenses if you think you aren't able to dodge, plus you pause for too long after you attack. You stare at me."

The air was stale and a cool breeze shuttled past the two, reminding them it was still the crack of dawn. A few quiet flower petals flew past. The whole kingdom was still asleep, and yet here they stood in front of each other.

The King nodded, frowning. "You noticed a lot. Okay, basics it is."

...

"It's been two weeks and you still pause." Dream ducked, hitting a right uppercut into the King's stomach.

George countered with a side step, throwing a fast swing into the edge of his instructor's jaw. And then he saw it again, the small lacing of sweat that ran from the side of his cheek to the base of his neck. He'd seen it first at the dance, when the candlelight shone and exposed Dream's heated skin dappled in a glimmering sheen. Ever since, it hadn't left his head. No, that was a lie, George didn't think constantly about his King's guard's razor-sharp jawline and the sweat that ran along it; that would be absurd. No, of course he didn't. But at times like this, mid fight when things got flushed and hot in temperature, it always caught notice. Just for a second.

A second too long and Dream got another knock in, sending the King flying back. "Do I have something on my face, Your Majesty?" The smirk in his words was subtle.