The tallies on the wall marked day 15.
Dream perched himself against a wall in the dungeon's cell and sighed as he awaited the new day. His fate lingered in the air as he pondered his inevitable death.
The knights were instructed not to tell Dream when his last day would be to torture him in a way.
Stray thoughts ran about, but the one idea that hogged Dream's mind was the curious man Dream had met only a few months ago.
He could never manage to forget George. No matter how hard he tried.
He squirmed at the thought of his regrets.
George hated Dream. Dream was sure of it.
The cool autumn air graced the cell as it bought a light blanket of warmth before the cell returned to moist, frigid weather.
A knight's approaching footsteps broke through Dream's walls of thoughts.
"They've asked you to write any last words in this." The knight tossed Dream's journal, a quill, and ink through the cell. He nearly shattered the ink vial doing so.
Dream scrambled to find his journal. He flipped through the pages and was relieved to see they were mostly untouched.
"I thought they needed this for the evidence against me. Why would they give me this back?"
Dream was confused as to why the kingdom would hand over the evidence to Dream so carelessly.
"Don't worry. They've already copied every page in that journal on many pieces of parchment. The priest believed it would be best if you thought about your life while writing your last words."
"And if I don't have any last words?" Dream gazed purely into the guard's eyes.
The knight scoffed and turned towards the exit.
"To my understanding, I believe you have a few words you would like to say."
With a parting glare, the guard left the dungeon.
Dream stared blankly at the journal.
He first contemplated not even writing anything.
However, when Dream thought of George's mocha eyes staring into his own, his opinion changed.
The way George laughed at everything. The way George's hair flopped in the wind. The way George played the piano in such a graceful manner.
Dream realized he had almost too much to say to George.
He dipped the quill in ink and flipped to the few blank pages left in his journal.
He began to write.
Day 16.
Dream sat on the hard flooring. His body twitched in pain from his rough night's sleep.
Dream wanted to be optimistic.
He wanted to believe he would wake up tomorrow and tally another day.
He wanted to see George's face turn the corner of the stairs.
He wanted him and George to break free from the kingdom.
He wanted anything but the approaching footsteps.
Three knights came up to Dream's cell. The single candle wasn't enough to illuminate the knights as it hid their faces from Dream's view.
"It's time."
Dream stiffened but remained quiet and still.
One of the knights rustled in their pockets. They pulled a series of keys out and fumbled with the lock on Dream's cell until it opened.
The other two knights immediately rushed into the cell and restrained Dream.
However, Dream was too exhausted even to try to escape.
He just hoped to see George pull the knights off of him, saving him.
The knight that opened the door held out an item in front of Dream. The lighting was too dim to make it out.
"Wear this."
The knight threw the clothing onto the floor.
"The jacket was unsalvagable because a careless knight cut it off of you."
Dream's eyebrows raised slightly. His eyes were glued to the clothing on the floor.
It was the outfit Dream was wearing when he murdered Victoria.
"The jury subjected you to wear this during your execution. They felt you should be reminded even up until your last moments." A knight from behind Dream snickered.
Dream was forcefully attired in the stained outfit. The stench of dried blood overpowered Dream's senses.
The suit was still stiff from the sanguine fluid.
He cringed at his outfit. Although he didn't regret killing Victoria, he didn't want to be reminded of his actions.
The knights shoved him out of the cell and led him up the stairs. The burning sunlight stung his eyes as daybreak was dawned upon Dream for the first time in sixteen days.
The halls looked the same as Dream had remembered. He looked around for George, hoping to find him anywhere.
However, odd and terrified glances from servants were all he was met with.
The knights kept walking towards the front of the palace. The palace faced a village that flourished with people. However, due to the war, the former vibrant life was sucked out of the atmosphere.
A few knights opened the doors to the palace and allowed Dream and his guards to walk outside.
His vision was crowded with mobs of people.
Some shouted, others wept, others just stared in awe (Dream couldn't determine whether it was good or bad).
Even with the myriad of people, the crowd parted for Dream and the knights.
Dream could finally see what they have all gathered around.
A guillotine stood in the middle of the mob. It was wooden and had a shiny blade hanging off the top.
Dream averted his eyes. He didn't want to see the machine that would end his life.
The knights led him up to the guillotine. His head was placed inside first. Then, his hands were tied around his back. Finally, his feet were tied up.
Dream had no range of movement left.
He could only look around and see all the faces looking back at him.
From what Dream could hear, the priest walked next to him and began to speak.
"Attention, citizens of Wisteria! Today we are gathered to execute a man of many crimes. As many of you know, he has not only murdered Queen Lily and Queen Victoria, but he also was trying to kill King George!"
The crowd gasped and threw stones at his face. All he could do was grimace and bear the pain.
"The jury has requested that Dream shall wear the very outfit he killed Queen Victoria in. As you all can see, blood still stains the suit. His sins shall haunt him even in the afterlife."
Dream looked around for any sign of George. He knew he would be present.
He would be forced to watch Dream die.
Dream's breaths sped to a rapid pace. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead.
Dream's life would end in a few short moments.
It's all over.
Dream used to believe it was a cliche to say someone's life flashed before their eyes.
However, the same saying he once denied became his truth.
He remembered his early years playing with Sapnap and his friends. He remembered coming home from school to the smell of freshly baked bread. He recalled the way all praised him for being an excellent assassin in training.
He recalled killing his own family.
He remembered all the victims he mercilessly slaughtered without a second thought. He recollected his first meeting with George when George thought Heaven could talk. He remembered carving their names into the rotting fence. He recalled stargazing with George and playing duets together. He remembered his time with Heaven.
He would miss Heaven. Has she been fed already? How is she doing?
He would miss reading books to escape his reality. He would miss the way George would always be interested in his latest novels.
He would miss George's eyes, his nose, his smile, his hair, his freckles, his personality, but most importantly, him.
Dream ached for George.
Dream was leaving him behind.
If only they had a little more time together.
They could've gotten away.
They could've lived in a cottage somewhere. Cooking their own food, singing lullabies to each other, and maybe even adopting a cat.
They always fought between best cat names.
Patches or Luca were the choices.
If only they could've-
"I believe now is the time our poor Dream shall face his eternity."
The priest giggled.
A knight stood behind Dream. His hands grasped the rope that controlled Dream's fate.
Instead of crying out, Dream thought of George.
Where was he?
Was he watching?
I hope he isn't watching me die.
Not all wishes come true.
George sat in the back of the crowd. His father stood behind him to make sure he didn't run away.
In the words of his own father, George must learn to move on.
Apparently, seeing Dream die was the only option.
George had lost the ability to cry long ago.
He could have filled buckets with the tears he cried over the last sixteen days.
So now he stood solemnly, careful not to let the threatening tear spill over his eye.
Dream struggled to look around the audience. George noticed his frantic movements.
He's looking for me.
The priest said something George didn't quite hear.
His own thoughts were awfully louder than the chatter of the priest.
Dream had made George feel alive again.
George finally felt as if he was no longer wasting his life.
Dream had done so much for George.
However, conflicting feelings surrounded George.
Dream had killed George's mother.
But once emotion could never let George stay mad at Dream.
The priest spoke again.
He moved away, laughing slightly.
The knight that controlled the rope fumbled a little.
George felt empty. He was unable to react until he saw the blade fly down to Dream's head.
George cried out and screamed. He felt as if his voice was vacuumed away.
He ran.
He ran towards Dream.
He tried to save him.
He tried to catch the blade, even if it meant his hands would be lost.
His tears were nothing compared to the fear George felt.
He could feel his chest tighten.
His throat closed.
His stomach dropped into the Underworld.
George screamed out to Dream.
The blade moved in slow motion.
Dream's eyes settled on George running towards him.
Stay a little longer.
Not yet.
I'm not ready.
I didn't get to say goodbye.
Please don't leave me.
I need you.
George tried to save him. George pleaded with all his might.
Dream's irises twinkled at George as he smiled sorrowfully.
Dream spoke three words.
Loud enough for George to hear.
George stopped running when a slicing sound pierced his ears.
The knight behind Dream twirled with the rope a bit.
His ears zapped out all sound.
This is it.
Dream's eyes darted to a man sprinting towards Dream.
George's cafe eyes were red as tears flowed down his face. His expression was painful for Dream to see. His screams echoed in Dream's peaceful world.
Dream could hear his own heartbeat ring in his ears.
His breathing slowed.
Serenity mixed with tranquility were the only things he could feel.
Dream had accepted his death long ago.
Now that his one love was running at him, begging for him to live another day, Dream couldn't bring himself to accept his death completely.
As the blade inched near his head, Dream smiled and spoke his final words hoping George would hear.
"I love you."
A horrified scream slowly faded as a bright light comforted Dream.
All of the sounds had long subsided.
He felt warm.
He felt at home.
The light called out for him and lured him closer.
Dream could now move his body around freely.
With one last glance at the world around him, he strolled into the warm embrace of the accepting light.
Goodbye, George.