Emeralds For Trade // DNF Royalty AU

Chapter 13.3: Hell Is Empty And All The Devils Are Here

"You never left your fucking land until a fragile prince with a pretty face walked into the picture," Alex snarled, charging forward and closing the space between them.

A clash of metal sounded as blades of sword and axe met in a thunderous melody of steel-on-steel. The two kings danced in sync, almost equally matched, but the passion in which the Netherian swung his axe balanced out where he lacked in skill. His movements were unpredictable, making strange and bold attacks that left him exposed, but the surprises hindered Dream's quick-thinking, and he missed the chances of attacking that he could have taken.

"He's not fragile," Dream hissed, ducking under a sweeping attack and taking the opportunity to stab forward. The tip of the sword pierced through Alex's thigh, deep enough to hurt.

"Oh, you're gonna regret that," Alex mumbled, using his other leg to kick Dream in the face, leaving a crack along the edge of the mask. Underneath it, Dream could feel a searing pain shoot up his nose and spread across his face. A few drops of blood leaked from his nose and he wiped it off.

Quickly collecting himself, he got up, only to have the axe swing once again, slicing through his tunic and leaving a gash across his chest and arm. Though it was only a flesh wound, it was drawing quite a bit of blood. With a growl, he went in for another strike, leaving a gash on Alex's shoulder. The battle, long overdue, waged on in a clatter of blades.

By the door, George hid behind a pillar. He had gone unnoticed, by the looks of it. With the pair so engrossed in their own conflict, the prince was able to sneak between pillars, making his way past the battling kings.

George's heart was pounding in his chest. The harsh words of Alex didn't cut quite as deep as he thought they would. After the past few weeks, his perception of his own strengths had changed, and he knew that the Netherian's animosity was more directed towards Dream than it was towards him. The words were a reaction to his wounded ego after the war, and the anger had festered over the course of the two years that had passed, culminating in the horrifying ruthlessness he was embodying. The ferocity in his strikes, the venom on his tongue, the last thing he wanted was to be caught on the receiving end of it. And knowing now that Dream was dealing with that, he couldn't help but worry for and admire him all the more. The occasional hiss of pain made his heart clench in his chest, but with how the clatter of metal didn't stop, he knew that Dream was doing alright.

He finally managed to sneak to the front of the grand room and curl around the pillar up ahead, where he was met with Tubbo's back facing him. He was sitting down with his side to the pillar, arms tied behind him and ankles bound together in front of him. Up on the pillar on the other end of the walkway, the identifiable silhouette of Techno could be seen, with his head hanging low and his pink hair over his face. Horrified, he noticed the amount of blood he was covered in. His arms were chained above his head, but he could still stand, only resting some of his weight on his wrists.

"Tubbo," George whispered urgently, carefully kneeling behind the young boy first. Tubbo immediately looked over his shoulder, eyes wide as he heard a comfortingly familiar voice. Using the dagger that Dream had given him, he was quick to cut through the ropes that held him immobile. Once his hands were free, Tubbo helped with undoing the ropes by his ankles, before wrapping his arms around George, pulling him in for a tight hug and clinging onto him gratefully. The prince returned it, rubbing soothing circles in his back as the boy's tears were soaked up by his top.

"I'm so glad you're okay, Prince George."

"Are you hurt?" he asked gently, to which Tubbo shook his head. With his hands now free, he swiped the bit of dried blood from his neck where Alex had barely pierced before.