Under the Weather - Dreamnotfound Oneshots

Amaryllis III

the long awaited final part of amaryllis! it's a much longer one, very action packed, so be prepared :] 

this one is angsty (I know I said it wouldn't be but c'mon) however it ends well, lots of fluff!! :] 

warnings: mentions of injury/blood, implied (major) death (and talks of it) but it's all super vague!! nothing too crazy, and I promise it's all gonna be okay in the end<3 

Enjoy!<3 

The night is cold, whispering something soft under its breath. George, though, wrapped in the warmth of his extravagant clothing and Dream's feather light touch, is comfortable and warm and blissfully unaware of the warning held between folds of a cool breeze.

It's a relief to be free from the holds of stuffy ballroom, maybe, but also from the pressure of his duties as a prince, finally able to relax. George relishes in the way Dream is able to coax this part of him out, cheerful and daring and maybe a little too prideful.

"That was fun." He mumbles breathlessly through a chuckle, and Dream shoots him a lopsided grin, green eyes crinkling into a smile George is so familiar with.

"Yeah, it was."

"How long do you think we can be out here before the King himself realizes?"

Dream snorts sarcastically, toying with the hem of his clothes. "A couple minutes, maybe? We aren't being particularly secretive."

George rolls his eyes fondly. "You underestimate my mum, there's no way she'll let him figure it out."

"Maybe so. But you underestimate my ability as a guard to sneak around."

George sports a deadpan look as he gazes at Dream, careful not to lean into his arm where it's draped over his shoulders. "Right."

"I'm serious!" Dream protests when he realizes George is having none of his shit.

"I never said you weren't!" George laughs as Dream bumps into his side, shoving lightly at his shoulder.

"You're so mean to me!" Dream mock whines, going limp on top of George. They stop walking as George yelps out something about Dream being such a deadweight!

The boys' laughter echoes sweetly over the courtyard, where moonlight cascades over sharp patterns of stone. The palace is lit with golden, the music and laughter of the ballroom faintly audible in the air. Out here, the air is no longer stale with perfection— It's rough and cold and unique and wonderful.

George takes in a deep breath, relishing in the way air feels like ice in his lungs. Dream grins a bit, rocking back and forth from his heels to his toes.

George glances at him fondly, taking in the way his freckles mock the stars in the sky, wisps of dirty blonde hair turned silver mist caressing the forehead prettily, and wonders why he'd ever try to stop himself from falling in love.

Dream is worth every second, all the pain and all the laughter.

He holds a sword, yet George thinks he could hold a butterfly with the gentleness of the wind.

He wonders if kissing him would taste of the sweet breezes.

"George?"

The prince, for all his dignity, jumps in surprise, instantly a bit flustered.

"Sorry! Hello, hi."

Dream laughs, and George settles on Dream being cool summer breezes. He thinks it fits nicely.