Emeralds For Trade // DNF Royalty AU

Chapter 5.1: Told You So (Listen, Next Time)

(art by GlichedFlames on Twitter)

Dinner was a blur of formalities. Sitting on opposite ends of the table, Dream wasn't quite close enough to the brunette to have an effect on him. George could keep his composure, deflect any excessive complimenting. While the conversation flowed, the vague air of superficiality was ever-present, forced upon by how George had his walls up again, making sure the Emerald king stayed on the other end of that wall and out of his head.

The steak was lovely, though.

When Dream walked him back to his room the final time that night, George didn't have much time to overthink the day's events. He was out like a light.

But when he woke up the next day to the sun barely peeking through the curtains, he rubbed his eyes gently and laid in bed far longer than he usually had the luxury of doing. The morning brought a fresh set of eyes to the memories he held. The gentle tones, the curious questions asked over pastries and tea, and how all that was put to an end when George was back on that balcony. How desperately he tried to unravel himself from between Dream's fingers where he was spun like a quill. He wasn't sure what to make of it.

Should he have given it a bit more time? Dream was earnest in his conversation. Even over dinner, when George sat guarded and alert, with a sharp tongue and ever-present crown, the king had respected his walls. Made no attempt to tear them down forcefully, or prod with questions he didn't wish to answer. Dream kept the conversation surface-level.

Surely, he thought, this was a calculated move. Perhaps he was bored of George already. Being more or less rejected twice probably didn't do too well for his ego. Any wise individual would cut their losses there and move on to find other suitors to romance. For some reason, though, the thought of Dream moving on from him so quickly brought about a feeling he couldn't quite describe or explain. His stomach was tense and his heart making its presence known through slow, steady thumping.

But when there was a gentle knock on his door and a cart of breakfast brought to his room, he was left without answers once again. The servant, whom he had never met before, greeted him with a bow and informed him that the King would be waiting in the library for the rest of the morning until he was ready to see him.

He sat in the room with the cart of food. The sweet maple scent hit his senses the moment he lifted the metal cover. Tucking into the pancakes, he halted mid-bite when he felt something squish between his teeth and the familiar burst of a blueberry met his taste buds. It tasted like home.

Had the king put in that much thought, or had it been a coincidence? He couldn't recall an opportunity for Dream to find out about his favourite fruit. As he wracked his brain deeper, however, he vaguely remembered that amidst the superficial, trivial conversation they had over dinner, he might have maybe mentioned his distaste of specific fruits. Had he mentioned berries?

George cursed his weak memory. Regardless, when he was done eating and getting dressed, he prepared himself to face the man again. Navigating the hallways, he found the door which appeared to be more carefully crafted than the others.

He rapped on it gently with his knuckles before stepping in, his walls lowered.

Dream sat on a dark wood chair, with a velvet seat that was a rich shade of red. His legs were draped over the armrest, and a hand held open a book as the other arm was hidden behind the backrest which he had laid it over. The mask that initially rested by his side had just been pulled back over his eyes when he heard the knock, concealing his face once again.

George caught sight of Dream's more casual kings wear, with a dark green tunic hanging loosely over his collarbones and tucked into a similar pair of black trousers from the day before. The outfit was comfortable, but the quality of cloth and tailoring was a clear indicator of his status, along with the ring of jewels atop his head. This time, though, the sleeves were left unrolled, possibly because of the particularly chilly morning. Dream was ready to shift from his position to one less casual when George raised his hand in assurance. The king nodded slowly, looking back down at his book.