For the first time in his life, George woke up warm. Lazily blinking his eyes, he nestled further into Clay's chest and started up at the sharp angle of his jaw, the dying embers of. the fire casting shadows dancing across the walls. It was still dark outside George realized with a start, and gratefully burrowed down in the covers.
Clay, while in his sleep, tucked his arms closer around George's back and pulled him flush to his chest. Blushing slightly, George smiled into, Clay's shirt and watched the falling snow as he fell asleep. Stars seemed to fall from the sky, fresh snow dusting the treetops like icing sugar on a cake.
Flakes of lace and glitter drifted from the sky, sticking to the windowpane as if to sneak a peek at the peaceful boys slumbering inside. The snow quieted the forest, normal sounds of animals dulled to a frosty silence, even hushing the howling wind to a dull whisper. The whole world seemed to rest, allowing the boys their night together to be perfect.
In the wee light of morning, Clay arose. Automatically, he made to get up but then realized the predicament he was in; he and George's limbs were tangled together like ants in a spider's web. Every time he tenthly pulled an arm or a leg away, George would shiver and pull it back in his sleep, obstinate that they had to remain together. Dream smiled, softly rubbing a thumb across the brunettes cheek. Blearily stretching, George nuzzled into it like a kitten, pecking Clay's palm and sitting up.
"I'm sorry Georgie, I didn't mean to wake you."
George waved Clay off and stifled a yawn. "It's all right, darling, I was waking up anyways. How'd you sleep?"
Clay grinned and pulled George to his side, planting a kiss on top of his head and ruling his hair, much to George's chagrin.
"Better, with you next to me." Clay said softly, causing George to blush furiously. "As much as I'd love to stay right here with you..." he continued, pressing a kiss to the tip of George's nose, "We'd better get moving."
George belligerently agreed, and the boys dressed in the warm clothes they had found in the cabin. Behind a loose board in the wall that they must've missed in the dim light last night, Clay found two pairs of boots and some warm sweaters. Pulling on his new armor to the cold, George slipped his hand in Dream's and the two walked into the snow.
The rising sun bled orange hues into the dark sky, sending rays of light as bright as diamonds leaping over the banks of snow. They sparkled and shone, each tree encased in a case of glass. Icicles dripped from the trees like jewels around a Royal's neck, both deadly and beautiful. The snow masked any tracks or sounds emitted from the forest - it was as if George and Dream were alone in a bubble of silent perfection.
The trees, devoid of any leaves, clattered and whispered amongst each other, bony branches like limbs stretching out to take George into their clutches. He shuddered as they brushed his jacket, feeling as if behind the glimmer and magic was a potent cruelty of the winter; death on gilded wings.
The boys soon tired, and perched on a fallen tree to rest for the moment. George had just opened his mouth to speak when - Clay clapped his hand over George's mouth and yanked him to the ground. George bristled, slapping Dream's hand away and making to sit up.
"Excuse me, you"-
"Sshh!" Clay hissed, eyes skinning into the depths of the forest. "Be quiet, and for god's sake get down!"
George crouched down, hastened by Clay's tone. Leaning into his ear, he whispered "What is it?"
Clay, saying nothing, simply pointed farther into the trees and cupped a hand around his ear. George strained for sound, but could hear nothing - the snow blanketing the ground muffled any sound. Dream, however, had grown up in the woods - he had a hunter's ear, and could pick up even the slightest movement.
He simply pointed again, pulling himself and George further down behind the log and waited. Then, through the tiniest carry of the breeze, George heard it; hoofbeats. Fairly soon, a lone traveler came into view, atop a stark white horse.
"If there's a person there, shouldn't we meet them? They could help us get home!" George breathed, eyes trained on the figure slowly approaching from the distance.
"Now that people know you're missing, they could be wanting to take you for ransom - or worse. We can't trust anyone, Georgie." Clay whispered back, muscles tensing under his coat.
The person atop the horse sat rigidly, back up straight like a tightly strung bow. Their face was shrouded from view by a hood that dwarfed them, and a kerchief was pulled up over their mouth and nose. Everything about them seemed on edge, tensed and ready for battle.
George and Dream lay as still as possible, covered from view by the log - until Dream felt that telling tickle in his nose. He frantically plugged his nose, eyes wide and horrified; but even he couldn't prevent the small sneeze that squeezed it's way out.
"Achoo!"
The man's head whipped around, gaze trained on the two from under his hood. He hopped off his horse, slowly prowling to where the two boys hid. Clay immediately stood, shifting automatically into a fighting stance and pushing his way in front of George. George pulled out the small paring knife he had from his satchel, gripping it and snarling fiercely. The man looked taken aback, and then laughed.
"Well hello to you too, Clay, George," He chuckled, nodding at the respective men. "Sadly, I'm not going to fight you today. Besides, how stupid do you think I am? I never travel alone. Take it away!"
"Right you are, Tommy."
George whirled around to see the person of the second voice, who had no horse and seemed to have crept up on silent feet.
"Hiya, I'm Tubbo! I'm really sorry." He said, face masked too but not enough to hide the bright sparkle in his eyes that dulled as his face must've twisted into a frown.
"Wait, sorry for wha-" That was all George could manage before the world went black.
. . .
The world seemed to go fuzzy like a ripened peach as George slowly opened his eyes.
"W-where am I? God, my head hurts like shit..." He said, desperately trying to remember the events of that morning. He rolled over, the world slowly returning to normal, He seemed to be in a sort of infirmary, perhaps below ground as the only light seemed to radiate from a lantern hanging in the corner of the room.
All at once, his thoughts rushed to Clay. George sat bolt upright, leaping from bed and landing with and oomph on the floor. From where he lay dazed, George could see a pair of scuffed boots come into view and stop in front of his face.
"Well that wasn't very smart, was it?"
The voice, George had heard it before. It was that man..Tubbo, was it? Perhaps Tubbo helped his up and guided him back into bed.
"Where is Clay?" George croaked out, surprised at how raspy his throat was as if it hadn't been in use.
Tubbo turned to the corner by the lantern and filled a glass with water from an earthen pitcher. Turning up the lantern, he handed it to George and sat on the edge of the hospital bed. George winced at the extra light, dim as it was, but gratefully gulped down the water.
Noticing George's flinch, Tubbo rubbed his neck and smiled bashfully. "Yeah, sorry about that. I didn't mean to hit you that hard...But to answer your question, Clay is just across the corridor. He hasn't woken yet, but he should be any minute now."
George sat back against the cushions with a sigh of relief, glad Clay was safe. "But where am I?"
Tubbo looked to the door, and glanced back at George. "Listen, man, I'm not really sure I'm the best to tell you that. Just know, no harm will come to you while you're here."
George gave Tubbo a small smile and took another sip of his water. Just then, a shout from across the hall had Tubbo standing up and extending a hand.
"That'll be Tommy - Dream has woken up, apparently. It's time now - all your questions will be answered soon."
George rose, and slipped his feet into his boots. Following him out the door, George was greeted with the sight of Tommy leading a familiar face out of the door opposite.
"Clay!" George latched himself into Dream's arms, rubbing his face against Clay's shoulder. Warm arms slipped around his waist as Dream fiercely hugged him back. Dream nestled his face into George's soft hair, squeezing him tighter and lifting him slightly off his feet.
The two boys were lost in each other, only broken apart by a small
"Ahem." from Tommy.
George's face heated, but he scooted away from Dream and simply slipped their hands into each other's. As he pulled away, however, he didn't miss the small "Stay alert." that Dream quickly whispered into his ear, masked as a breath.
The group headed down the hallway, soon reaching a flight of stairs that seemed to never end. As they climbed, George pressed closer to Dream - though he was brave, he wasn't stupid, and he had no idea were they were going. He could only hope that what Tubbo said was true - that no harm would come to the pair.
All of a sudden, a door was flung open, and George and Dream were plunged into frosty light. Blinking away the small burst of pain from behind his eyelids, George could now see the boys more plainly - and was surprised at how young they were.
Now with masks and hoods off, Tubbo and Tommy seemed to still be teenagers, the wintery light illuminating their features. Tubbo had chestnut brown hair with eyes to match, and seemed to bounce with each step, smiling as he talked to Tommy animatedly. Tommy was blonde, his hair practically covering his eyes. He was laughing raucously at whatever Tubbo had said - but George could detect a steely glint in his eye, a small crumb of rage and spite that would make him a terror on the battlefield.
Both the boys, actually - George knew not to judge a book by it's cover, and wouldn't be so fooled by Tubbo's happy-go-lucky attitude. He wouldn't be surprised if both of them were adept at killing, for they seemed trained as assassins - like the edge of a honed blade. George's breath clouded in the chilly air, and he looked around him more, taking in the scenery. They were walking through an immense clearing in the forest, guarded by a wall of towering trees around the fringes. Buildings were scattered throughout, rough and raw as if built quickly with one's two hands.
"Sorry for the long walk, but we're almost there. Soon you'll get to meet the rest, and the leader himself!" Tommy called over a shoulder, ushering George and Dream into a strange building with a flaming crescent on top.
The four walked into a cozy office, dominated by a vast desk. A man stood by the windows at the end, back turned to the boys. Dream and George stood frozen, unsure of what to do before a sharp prod in the back.
"Well, go on!" Tubbo mouthed before turning back to where he flanked the doors with Tommy. Hesitantly, the boys stepped forward, warmth from the fireplace bleeding over their shoes.
"Good morning, boys. You've no idea how hard it was to track you down." The man chuckled to himself, still facing the bay window.
"Now wait a motherfucking minute, where are we?" Clay demanded. "I'm done with this bullshit! Just tell us where we are!"
At this, the man whirled around, his brown hair falling from the beanie it was tucked haphazardly in. "Welcome," he spat, grinning madly, "to the revolution."
. . .
guess who finally stopped procrastinating and wrote another chapter? ;)
also 3.3k reads? thats incredible, tysm! i had no idea i'd get this far, and i wanted to say thank you for sticking with me throughout this crazy journey (and my terrible uploading schedule) but now that the filler chapters are put of the way, expect more! i am so excited :))
xo, minecraft idiot