King and Lionheart [Dreamnotfound AU]

Chapter 13: Sitting Back

Dream could die. George! I was that close to George! Close enough to see his nose turn red with the blush, close enough to count his dark eyelashes and get lost in that blue-and-brown gaze, close enough to breathe his scent of mint and flowers.

"Return quickly."

"I will, George," Dream giggled under his breath as he rode a castle horse as fast as it would go.

The trek felt slower than ever. It might've been the horse, or that he had just travelled back and forth over it, but it was probably his eagerness to get it over with.

He slipped in and out of the castle for the spies' benefit, then jumped back onto the horse to gallop back to Cathens. The guards were easy to sneak past, but the first night found him lying awake thinking of George's letter.

The king had asked "Prince Clay" why there were soldiers at the border. It was a fair question, but unusually direct. Dream knew it was a test, more than the other letters had been. He'd answered honestly: he didn't know his father's mind, and he never had.

But as he tossed and turned he wondered if that was the wrong answer. He needed to provide George with something valuable, but he just didn't have it.

In the end Dream tore up his own letter and decided to tell George he hadn't waited for one. That way, he'd have more time to think about how to respond.

He arrived at last at George's castle in high spirits. The brunette also seemed happy to see him, but in his shy, repressed way. He invited Dream to lunch in the sunroom again.

"What are we celebrating?" Dream asked as several servants set lavish dishes onto the long table.

"Nothing-" George drew his chair up and sat- "I just like a change sometimes."

"Right." Dream smirked and sat next to him, sliding his chair even closer to the corner. He leaned in on his elbows. "It's not for me?"

"Certainly not." George rolled his eyes and glanced away, but Dream caught his blush.

The blonde helped himself, asking after he'd piled his plate,

"What's your favourite?"

"This one." George pointed at an elaborately decorated salad.

"This?" Dream ate a forkful and dramatically blanched. He shook his head.

George gasped in offence. "You don't like it?!"

Dream made a show of swallowing with difficulty and said, "It's terrible."

"It is not!" Even George looked surprised at his own raised voice. He cleared his throat. "It is not."

"Try this one, it's got a fancy sauce!" Dream held out his fork with a bite.

"Certainly not. Besides, I've already had most of these dishes at some point or another."

"Then eat this again, it's really good this time!" Dream held his fork in George's personal space, prompting him to learn away protesting.

"No- Dream- I really can't-"

"Yesyesyesyesyes-"

"Ugh." George rolled his eyes again, but finally ate the bite. "That was it, now stop," he said behind his hand.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, I thought you had manners," Dream teased.

George nearly choked, but finally controlled himself enough to point down the table.

"So sour," Dream complained as he moved a seat. George gestured for him to keep going and Dream grudgingly obeyed until he was three seats away.

George swallowed. "You are so annoyingly impertinent."