AGAINST PLANNING // Dream x Reader

Half-Days Aren't Hard

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There's one question you've been asking yourself since you've arrived in the Falconier kingdom: Why was preparing for a royal wedding so stressful? You obviously have no answer, so you keep asking yourself to keep up the lack of answer. It was a fun little game you played: 'Can I figure it out?'

Granted, it was a game you always lost; but it was a game, nonetheless.

"So, sovereign," Dream started every day like this. He leaned on your door, mask and armour on, and asked the same question. "What disaster do we have planned for today?"

"Simple, banquets at eight (8) and ten (10) while I have a fitting at nine (9) that'll take around an hour. We'll need to bring spare clothes to change after we're done there since we won't have time to change afterwards." You say calmly, this was normal for you after all. Dream simply walked out shaking his head. "What?"

"I- How do you have so much until lunch? It's crazy!" Dream screamed from the hall. You knew that he wasn't used to a normal 'second in-line' schedule.

"There's a royal wedding less than three (3) weeks away, Dre. I need to get ready unless you want two (2) kings to have a very large argument, all because you couldn't deal with half a day's normal work." You say dragging him back into the room, not wanting him to disturb anyone else awake in your bickering.

"Ugh, fine. I still don't get how you can-" Dream stopped mid-sentence, then instantly turned around to face you. "Only half a day? How do you do this!" He crossed his arms on his chest then continued to yell. You weren't bothered to pay attention so you grabbed the outfit that was laid out by the maids to get changed.

Once it was on you started looking through the wardrobe to see what you could pack for the banquet at ten (10). Dream by this point had stopped complaining to help you focus. Calmly accepting the silence you grabbed a leather pouch that was easily portable from a horse of any kind. Once again you left your quarters with a good amount of confidence to get you through the day.

It was as if Dream had blacked out to follow you a few seconds later. This was abnormal, but you ignored it and continued on your way down stairs. You needed to make sure that everyone was there for the banquet except for Tommy, which didn't surprise you at all.

"Ah, Y/N, pleasure seeing you well this morning!" George's sibling Eret said from the table, calmly waving at you. You waved back and sat next to him. Unlike their brother, who was in your opinion, a coward. Eret actually was excited for George to take the throne, and was actually feeling good about the whole situation. You knew however, that she didn't know you or George's desires that well either.

"Good morning, Eret! How are you on this... bright day?" You asked, cringing at the massive amounts of light that found its way into the room. Eret laughed and shook his head at you.

"I'm quite well," they state with a witty smile. "So, how are you, Dream? Holding up well?"

Dream blinked at her and shook his head, staring off into space for what seemed like the seventh time that day already. "Dre?" You asked, raising your eyebrows at him. He gave no response. "Dream."

He shook his head -- more vigorously this time -- and locked eyes with you through his mask. "Sorry, sorry-" He muttered, running a hand through his blonde hair.

"Dream, are you ill?" George asks politely from behind you. His hand landed gently on your shoulder, and you couldn't help but to try and wriggle from his grasp. Dream's response was a laugh and another shake of his head.

You sighed and stood up, moving Dream's mask down so you could see his forehead. In what your father would call a dramatic fashion, you draped your hand over his forehead to check his temperature. He was warmer than his usual body temperature should have been.

You quickly leaned back toward Eret, placing your hand on their forehead. She certainly was cooler in temperature than Dream was. "Oh dear Philza Minecraft--" you muttered, flopping back into your chair.

Dream shuffled uncomfortably, moving his mask back onto his face. "Sorry, Sovereign..." He muttered, rubbing his neck and looking away awkwardly.

"Don't worry, Dre," you sigh, sitting up straight yet again. "Can you at least make it past the fitting?" You ask, locking eyes with him through the mask. He nodded slightly in response, probably too afraid to say anything else. "Good, that's all we need done."

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