The Lost Prince || Dreamnotfound

one

The clashes of battle are no stranger to soldiers. War ravages the lands, burning villages and tearing apart civilizations. It turns the purest of hearts to charcoal, splintering and smoldering with rage and hate. It makes the innocent into monsters, turns green fields to flaming pits of death.

But behind the front lines of the battlefield, a white tent stands tall among many. In the prefect center, it's securely guarded by soldiers wearing layers of dark colored armor and badges to mark their importance. And there's Dream, at the center of it all.

"I want more soldiers to back up the right flank, with the extra help, we can push them to the forest," Dream says, pointing at the large map that lays between him and his most trusted generals. "Those wretches will be wiped out soon enough."

The men in the tent with him nod, sneering at the mention of their foe. They leave the tent with little hesitation. Sapnap, however, pauses.

"Do you want any help with the deserters?" Sapnap questions, chin lifted with pride. Dream sees fierce loyalty in his friend's eyes.

Dream frowns, nodding. "Yes, actually. I'll have you take a group of soldiers and round them up. Execute them. We want an example to be made."

"Certainly, Prince," Sapnap replies, bowing before he leaves.

Dream rubs his temples. He can faintly hear the clash of metal in the distance, accompanied by the roar of the enemy. He's been on the frontlines for two months now, only a fraction of the war that has been going on for over two decades.

The smells of blood and ash are shoved down Dream's nostrils and into his lungs. He misses the aroma of his home, but he's proud to be fighting a worthy cause.

The mythical creatures of the land need to be wiped out. Dream's father, the King, wants more land, and the only option is to expand to the forest, otherwise known as the Enchanted Forest. Inhabiting the Enchanted Forest are creatures of all shapes and sizes, none of which are human, making them Dream's enemy.

Under normal circumstances, the enemy would be able to defeat the humans with ease, but the creatures and monsters have been hunted and poached. It's rare to find a dragon or centaur or any other mythical being of great power because they've been hunted almost to extinction. Dream's army mainly fights faeries, dwarves, and several other creatures of mythical variety, making it more of a fair fight for the humans.

Hatred burns in his gut. Anger is the only emotion Dream has been taught to feel about the mythical. He knows it's justified, because humans are the only resilient creature in existence. That's a fact.

Dream mulls over the strategizing board, looking over the plans he created with a satisfied hum. His fingers trace idly over the indents of landmarks and little figurines that represent his army and the enemy.

He can't help but grin; with him on the frontlines as the leader, the enemy won't have a fighting chance.

~

The day passes as most days do; Dream makes sure everything runs smoothly. He mainly operates from his personal tent, answering questions whilst on his plush chair.

He makes his way to the strategizing tent for the nightly meeting. As he waits for his generals, Dream hears a struggle from the outside of the tent. Curiously, he stands up, eyebrows lifting in mild surprise when Punz, one of his guards, helps drag in a foreigner.

Dream recognizes the armor of his enemy instantly, frowning in disdain. The white and gold worn by the man is dented and scratched, stained with blood. His wrists are tied together with a flimsy rope, and Dream notices his bloody fingernails, rimmed with dirt.

Dream scrunches his nose, watching Punz shove the prisoner to his knees as he tears off the prisoner's helmet with ferocity. The man's—no, creature's—head stays low, chin tucked to his chest. He's no man. Dream almost forgets the most important thing.

"Why isn't he wearing shackles?!" Dream questions loudly, to which the prisoner's head snaps up.

His eyes, bright with anger, glare into Dream's eyes with the promise of suffering. He attempts to struggle, and the ground beneath them shakes, similar to an earthquake. Dream grips onto a table with wide eyes. Before any more damage can ensue, Punz snaps a comforting sight of iron shackles around the creature's wrists and the ground goes steady. The prisoner's eyes dull instantly, magic snuffed out, and Dream grins.

It's standard policy, the iron chains. They prevent any magic, and as so, iron is the main weapon Dream's army uses against their foe.

"My, my," Dream mutters, "you have quite a bit of power, don't you?"

The prisoner struggles against the shacklers, sneering, "How dare you."

Dream merely smirks. He looks him over, noting the dark hair and eyes that his enemy wears, though his hair could be lighter— Dream isn't sure if it's darkened by dirt.

"He was captured along the right flank," Punz says, "right after he slaughtered dozens of our men with a striking display of power, such as what you just saw now."

Dream nods, eyes narrowed as he stares at the filth in front of him. The creature glares back, rage igniting brown eyes. If he wasn't a part of the unnatural terror that Dream fights, Dream would almost consider him to be a rare beauty.

"Hang him on the post," Dream orders, "fifty lashes."

The prisoner yanks against his chains, and Punz strikes his face with the wood end of his spear. A red mark appears almost instantly on pale skin. It doesn't heal, not with the iron around the creature's wrists. He stops fighting, chest heaving with anger.

"You'll pay for what you've done," he hisses at Dream.

Punz frowns, but he doesn't lead the prisoner out. "If I may, Prince Dream, I have a better idea."

"Speak."

Punz nods. He glances at the prisoner before saying, "This is the prince of the enemy we fight against. Prince George of the Enchanted Forest, and though he is worthy of such a punishment, I think it'd be better to make an example of him in a different way. Killing him would be far too merciful."

Dream tilts his head. He leans down to peer into the prisoner's eyes. "You're a prince like me, huh."

"I am nothing like you, you monster," George snarls, spitting in Dream's face.

Dream chuckles, taking the cloth Punz offers him. As he wipes his face, he muses, "I am no monster. You're the demon that terrorizes our land." Punz ties a cloth around George's mouth. "And as for your point, Punz, I have a perfect idea for him."