Hunter, Juggernaut, Assassin, Warrior (DNF)

Silhouette

Up in his room, George had locked himself away. The fear of facing those who believed he was traitor consumed him like a forest on fire. He didn't do anything of the sort! He didn't betray his friends or Clay. Why would Withers lie? It was obvious, he lied to capture Clay. But why was George the puppet? He had no connections to Clay. Had. He didn't have. He had one now.

George had fallen from grace and landed belly-up. How could be come back from this? Surly Sapnap and the others would be at his throat first chance they got. And The Queen. She'd use this situation to her advantage, wouldn't she? There to lend her hand to George where no know else will.. Poor defenseless George, all on his own with no one in his corner. He was alone again.

Dog was sat on the grand Bed in the middle of the room, watching as her owner paced back and forth and back again. He was muttering to himself, cursing the name of every god and goddess he could think of. Just when things where finally looking bright, a storm just had to roll in.

He was so tired now, every piece of will had just vanished from his body like water on a hot summer's day. He sat down on the foot of his bed and stared off into his grand chambers. There was nothing left for him, not anymore. 

Just then, the doors that lead out onto the balcony swung open, allowing a cool breeze in. George lifted his head. He was sure he had locked those doors just moments prior. He watched as the thin currents danced and billowed in the breeze, moving like waves on the beach. He cocked his head to the side and narrowed his gaze. 

He was either seeing a ghost or there was a man standing in the shadows of the balcony. Dog perked her head up and sniffed the air. After a quick second, she laid her head back down, deeming the man non-threatening. George was threatened though, he slowly rose to his feet and drew the dagger that had become his most trusted weapon and slowly approached the door. 

"I've seen you wielding that George, trust me, this is one fight you wont win." The voice was familiar yet it came from a stranger. The man held the same accent as George, but it was posher, cleaner than his own. Wait. He thought, he knew that voice. He had heard it before, weeks ago in a tavern. 

"Prince Wilbur Soot." Exhaled George as recognition dawned on his sorrowful features. 

"Well out here, no, i am not a prince, rather a commoner, or a simple thief." Wilbur smiled as he came into the dim candlelight. He didn't look much of a Prince. He wore the same outfit from the tavern, a thick brown coat and a beanie.

"Why are you here?" George demanded. "Or rather, how? We are several stories up." 

Wilbur offer George a playful smile as he leaned against the frame of the balcony door. "I've been sneaking into this castle since i was a child, I know my way around." He purred with foolish pride. "We've been made aware of the situation. Clay's been captured, no?"

"How do you know that...?"

"Well Gogy - is it alright if i call you that?  - Clay and my family are very close. When he fled the Gala he sent a hawk the very same night, informing us he had made it to his family's summer house alive. He knew very well you were following him." Wilbur explained as he waltz further into the room.  "When we arrived and found this-" From his satchel, Wilbur took out Dream's mask. He tossed it forward, George barely managing to catch it. "Well it dawned on us something was wrong. The hoof prints and lack of any souls foretold us that something went wrong."

George looked at the mask with observant eyes. He studied every groove, every nick in the chipped paint. This was once Clay's. 

"They think it's your fault, don't they?" Wilbur asked. 

His eyes widened, fear pricked his tongue, stopping him from speaking. How did he know that? If he knew that, did he know everything else...?

"I've been scoping out the Castle for days, i see they way they look at you." Wilbur shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers, walking ever closer to George.

"I didn't do anything... Withers framed me damnit..." George tightened his grip around the mask, his eyes remaining locked on it. "I don't want to hurt him anymore... I never did... He was all i had..."

"There it is." Wilbur purred. "So the rumors are true then." He smiled.

"W-What..?" 

"George, I have known Clay for a very long time. I saw him in love one time. Only once." Wilbur snickered as he remembered. "He does the same things around you. Somehow brings you into every conversation. Just before the Gala when he was at the Fifth, he never shut up about how strong of an opponent."

George looked up at Wilbur as sadness creased his mew. Clay was in love with him? And he thought that George stabbed him in the back? He felt his legs become unstable as he reached behind him for a solid surface, looking sitting down on his bed again. 

"He loves me...?"

"I'd say so..." Wilbur said. "I don't believe you betrayed anyone. Ember's art is of deception. She is skilled in illusions, making false realities. You'd think the green boy would know that by now." He sizzled his tongue.  

"So what do i do?" George looked up. 

"Well, if i know the Dragon herself, she'll have a grand execution planned. Get your ass by her side and distract her. Fifth Kingdom will have support on the grounds. If you love him back, save him. He deserve that." He stuck out his hand to make the deal. 

George didn't hesitate to shake it. He'd do anything, even risk his own life and safety. But before another word could be spoken, there was a knock at George's door. The two men turned to each other and gave solutes before Wilbur quite-literally leapt out the window. And just in time too as the door swung open not a moment later. 

"George..." It was the Queen... of course it was. "Can we talk...?" 

Now or never.