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lovetorn · 3 years

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nightmare dressed like a daydream [dream]

Prince!Dream x Fem!Assassin!Reader

Summary: Y/n is an assassin, moving from kingdom to kingdom to eliminate targets. That’s until she meets Clay, the prince of Dreland, who takes a liking to her unbeknownst of her true intentions.

“I don’t like her—I can’t. She’d kill me, George.”

Word Count: 10.6k (o_O)

Warnings: a lot of death & blood (murder, heart failure), weapons (knives), swearing, toxic relationship, unrequited love :(, mentions of abuse, parental issues — i think that’s all, but if you see anything, lmk!! it’s kinda cringe i use ‘clay’ so like pls ignore it sdfghjkgjh

A/N: this is the fic i’m most proud of :’). there may be a few plot holes and filler paragraphs btw lol. if you have any questions about this fic, shoot me an ask and i’ll be happy to explain, discuss etc. anything you have relating to it! yayyy! enjoy!

She isn’t meant to be here. As a matter of fact, she isn’t supposed to be alive at all. After her last job, Y/n found herself in trouble with the wrong people. She had managed to escape from the small village she was in and find new clients in lands far away—which brought her here, tonight, in the kingdom of Dreland, at a Masquerade in the King’s castle.

She’s dressed in her best skirts and bodice, perfectly fit for the party and makes her blend in seamlessly. She doesn’t want to draw any unwanted attention considering her true intentions of being here.

She walks along the edge of the ballroom, her skirts trailing behind her slightly, and the handle of her mask in her hand. Her movements are sharp and calculated but seem elegant to onlookers. Nobody suspects a thing.

Soon, she’s moving into the middle of the floor and being surrounded by older men who extend their hands to ask for a dance. Y/n shakes her head and declines politely; she doesn’t need to cause a scene.

There’s a stage on the other side of the room where the King and Queen sit in their grand thrones, and Y/n observes their actions, watching around them for one person in particular. She sees a young man exit the curtains with a platter. He wears an apron with a white fabric strip around his hair and holds the tray with delicacy. Y/n snarls when she realises he’s not the right one.

She inches closer to the stage, going to adjust her mask and purposefully dropping it. She watches as the object clatters on the floor and sighs exaggeratedly, waiting for someone to assist her. As planned, a pair of shiny black shoes arrive beside her mask, and the person leans down to grasp it from the polished timber.

“I think you dropped this, Ma’am.”

Their eyes meet—or at least she thinks they do; the badly drawn smile on his mask is distracting and incredibly unsettling for an event such as this one. Y/n knows who he is though, even behind the mask. He is her target.

“The Prince?” Y/n exclaimed in bewilderment. “Mr Wilbur, Sir, do you know how hard that’ll be?”

The older man rolls his eyes before he glares into hers. “I was told you were the best in the business. Do you want the 50 gold or not?” Y/n nods.

“Good. Now, I give you three weeks to complete this, or you get nothing but excruciating death.”

The tall man peers down at her. His head is tilting to the side as he takes in her appearance. “Who are you?”

Y/n was waiting for this question. She simply laughs and takes her mask from his grasp. “I was invited by a friend of mine. She seems to have disappeared since I’ve been over here, though.”

Her disappointment of an excuse has the man nodding—he’s taken the bait. “Interesting.”

Y/n smiles awkwardly, the atmosphere of the room shifting slightly. She hates situations like this.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” He asks, and Y/n’s eyebrows raise. “Excuse me for my informality.”

Y/n shakes her head, giggling lightly as she grabs his hand and drags him towards the exit. He’d usually never stray far from events such as this, but seeing a girl his age and ready for adventure changes his attitude.

Sneaking out past the guards, who pay no mind to two people in masks at a Masquerade, the pair step into the fresh air outside.

“What’s your name?” Y/n asks, already knowing his answer.

“Uh—Clay?” His response sounds more of a question than an answer, which makes Y/n cock her head.

“Why do you make your reply sound like that?”

“Sorry,” He laughs. “Most people call me Dream. I’m the Prince of Dreland.”

False realisation crosses Y/n’s face as she facepalms. “Oh my! I’m so sorry, your highness.”

Dream shakes his head vigorously. “No! No need for formalities, truly. I’m wonderful with being normal for once.”

He hesitates before unclasping his mask from behind his head. The ceramic object falls slightly before he catches it and then he’s looking at Y/n properly.

Dream’s hair fluffs up lightly before he runs his hand through it to tame it. Y/n holds her mask in her hand as she watches him fix his appearance.

“Now that I’ve told you mine, what’s yours?”

Y/n is wary of her answer. On the one hand, she could lie, and on the other, she remembers that he’ll most likely be dead soon, so she shouldn’t lie.

“Y/n.”

Dream smiles at her. “Pretty.” Y/n thanks him and then they stand silently next to each other, the guard near the front door inching closer.

“Do you want to go somewhere more private to talk?” Dream asks quietly. Y/n smirks whilst nodding—she didn’t think she’d be finished the job this quickly.

Dream throws a glance back at the guard before he leads her towards the garden. The moon makes it hard to see the path, but they get there eventually. There’s no talking as they walk, the pair far too busy taking in the beauty of the moonlit garden.

The dirt beds are filled with rose and sunflower bushes, the scent creating a solacing hug around Y/n as she goes to sit next to Dream on a bench. The cold air bites at her skin, causing goosebumps to gloss her body.

She usually isn’t nervous about committing murder, but Dream makes her uneasy. The way that his eyes glance at her worryingly and the harsh tension in his shoulders tells Y/n that Dream’s definitely had this happen before. Y/n bites the inside of her lip; she’d have to be very cunning to gain his trust.

The garden in itself provides her with a sense of comfort. It reminds her of her flower bed at home.

“So, why do they call you Dream?” Y/n asks. Her attempt at trying to defuse the awkwardness works as Dream twists his lips in thought.

“Uh—well, my mother used to say I was her ‘miracle’ and then believed the word was overused and cliche, so she came up with Dream; and it stuck—clearly.”

Y/n nods, a soft smile gracing her face as she turns to him. “Well, I think that’s lovely.”

Dream blushes, although it’s hard to see through the night. “Really?”

“Yeah! That’s beautiful.”

The pair sit in silence, revelling in the moonlight before Dream speaks up again. “Would you like to see the lake?”

Y/n contemplates before she replies. “Sure.”

She had no idea why he’s taking her there, but it’s a sign that she’s gaining his trust.

—

“You don’t know how to skip rocks?”

Dream shakes his head at Y/n, who sits with her jaw open. “How?”

He then shrugs, toying with a small pebble in his palm. “Teach me?”

Y/n nods and takes the rock from him before standing and shuffling towards the lake. She gets into position, her arm bent at an angle beside her body.

She takes a glance back at Dream to make sure he’s watching, which he is. “All you need to do is put your arm back like this, and then sweep it forwards and let go of the rock. Make sure you do it quickly, or it won’t work.”

Y/n exhales and throws her arm, the rock hopping along the glassy water before it plops into the depths.

She spins around with a smile on her face. Dream squints at her; he seems to be analysing her actions. He sighs and plucks a rock from the ground, standing and walking over to Y/n.

“Ready?” She asks. Dream nods while getting into the same stance Y/n was in only 20 seconds ago.

He looks down at the pebble for a moment and then throws it as Y/n said. Dream watches as the rock skips across the pond, creating ripples in the smooth water.

Dream leaps around, his eyes wide. “I did it!”

Y/n can’t help but laugh at him, the pure joy he feels influences her too. “You did!”

Dream sighs heavily and goes back to where they were sitting. He flips back onto the ground, avoiding the sharp rocks protruding the sparse grass. He laughs out loud again, who knew something as trivial as rock skipping could make him feel so alive.

“You’re cute; you know that?” The sudden compliment elicits a blush and a groan from Dream as Y/n nears closer. She smiles down at him. “There must be a lot of things you haven’t tried.”

The statement makes Dream’s heart drop. It’s true, there are many things he hasn’t done. “Yes…”

Y/n’s heart spasms in her chest. Poor guy.

“Ok. Well, I’ll make it my mission to make sure you get them all done before your time comes.”

Dream looks at her. There’s an adoration that swims around in them that inclines Y/n to feel uneasy again. “You mean that?”

The girl nods whilst she goes to lay next to him. “Everybody deserves happiness before they die.”

Dream scrunches his nose up, going to disagree before Y/n interrupts. She doesn’t know why she has the sudden urge to say such a thing, but her chest aches when she looks at him.

“I’m going to be completely honest with you, Dream. I’ve only known you for half an hour, but I feel so uneasy around you.”

This catches Dream by surprise. He tilts his head at Y/n, who covers her face with her hands in embarrassment. “Sorry, sorry–“

“No need to apologise, Y/n. You make me uneasy too, I guess.”

She peers at him between her fingers and then lowers her hands. Y/n lets out a small laugh at his red cheeks and imagines a flush creeping across hers too.

“Uneasy in what sense, may I ask?” Dream’s innocent tone makes Y/n’s ears blush.

“In the sense that you're unpredictable, in a good way. I’m always up for an adventure.” Her description is slightly confusing, but Dream understands.

Above them, the oak trees rustle lightly in the cool breeze, and tiny waves begin to ripple onto the sand meters in front of their feet. The sound of water rushing forwards and then pulling back calms the rapid beating of their hearts.

“I guess I could say the same for you, Y/n.”

“Prince Clay, I have breakfast and a message for you.”

At the sound of his assistant at his bedroom door, Dream groans from his place in his bed. “What time is it?”

“10 am! Get up! I have a message for you if you didn't hear me the first time!” George teases, holding the paper between his fingers; he’s eager to open the letter.

“George!” Dream calls, grabbing his pillow from beside him and shoving his face into it.

“Clay!”

Dream sighs loudly and throws his heavy duvets off of his body, stalking towards the door to unlock it. He swings the door open to see George with a scroll of parchment and a tray with a lid in his hands. Dream’s eyes widen at the sight of breakfast, but George shakes his head. “I have to read your message first.”

Dream rolls his eyes and tells George to hurry up as he struggles to unravel it.

“Ok! Calm down. Uh—it’s from someone named Y/n? Do you know—” George is rudely interrupted when Dream freezes, then smiles. “Yes!”

“Oh, well, she asks to meet you at 9 pm at the place where rocks hop—what does that mean?” George’s face scrunches up in confusion, but Dream sighs, and this time it’s in contentment and not in annoyance.

“Perfect! Thank you, Georgie. Guess I’ll see you later.” Dream snatches the tray from his assistant with his free hand, the other grabbing the piece of paper. George goes to interject before Dream steps to the side and slams the door in his face.

George stands in bewilderment behind the door. His heart aches slightly, and he’s not sure what from—maybe it’s the way Dream discarded him or because of the letter. But he certainly knows Dream has never mentioned anybody called Y/n before.

Maybe they’re just friends? Perhaps they only met last night at the Masquerade?

George scolds himself for his ridiculous thoughts and spins on his heel, heading for his own room. He hesitates before he leaves, hearing Dream let out a shout of excitement. At the sound, George pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and exhales; sadly, the situation brings tears to his dark eyes.

They’re probably just friends.

—

Dream sits anxiously on his bed, his head in his palm as he watches the clock tick. 8:39 pm. 8:40 pm. 8:41 pm.

His heart skips a beat as it reaches the time to leave. Dream leaps from his spot on the bed and goes towards his mirror on the other side of the room. His hands come down to straighten out his dark waistcoat before they move to his hair. He curls his lip up at the sight of his unruly locks and sighs, choosing to ruffle it up slightly rather than putting gel in it.

Taking in his appearance, Dream nods to himself. If he goes towards the Astronomy Tower and then loops towards the lake, he’ll arrive at precisely 8:58 pm; perfect timing.

The night is clear, and the stars look amazing from where Y/n sits on the grass next to the lake. She leans back on her elbows as she takes in the view. It’s whimsical.

Thoughts of murder and pursuit place a dark cloud over the magical evening. Y/n bites her lip and stares at the rippling water in front of her. The lake looks ominous enough to hide a body in or cover up a vast amount of blood, and the dense foliage across the lake is enough to conceal a weapon in. However, Dream is the Prince, and there is no doubt that everybody in the kingdom would be looking high and low for him if he were to go missing.

Y/n’s plans go down the drain. It shouldn't be this hard! Wilbur Soot trusted her to do this, and if she doesn’t go through with it, she is guaranteed death.

She groans loudly, bringing her hands up to dig the heels of her palms into her eyes. Y/n could cry at the idea of failing and being a disappointment, even to people she doesn’t even know.

The rustling of the bushes behind her indicates Dream has arrived, but she doesn't move from her position. Instead, she chooses to gain his sympathy and find a way to manipulate him to make it easier to go through with the assassination.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Dream rushes towards her, dropping beside her on the grass. Y/n sniffs and shakes her head. “What happened?”

Dream places his hand on her back, softly. The act in itself makes Y/n jump; she’s not used to physical contact.

“Sorry.” He apologises when he sees her startled, deciding to move his hand away and place it back into his lap.

“No, you’re fine,” Y/n lets out a teary laugh. “I—erm, I just found out that my father divorced my mother, and he took the farm and cottage away from her.”

Her hands fall to her lap hopelessly, and Dream’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Really? I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

The girl shakes her head. The pair sit in the dark, the moon being the only thing illuminating their faces. Y/n thinks she’s hit a dead-end until Dream sighs and continues speaking.

“I can actually relate if it makes you feel better,” This makes Y/n’s ears perk up. “My father has been going to L’Manberg on ‘business trips’, but I know why he’s really leaving.”

Gotcha.

“Clay, I can’t imagine how hard that must be for you. I’m sorry.” He doesn’t reply and reaches over to grasp Y/n’s hand. Dream wears a crestfallen expression, his eyes glassy as he looks out over the water. Y/n feels a pang in her heart at the sight of the upset man.

“I used to think that they had a good relationship,” Dream starts. Y/n doesn’t have the will to hear his perspective on it, afraid that she’ll actually feel bad for him and lose any motivation to kill him. “Until I went for a walk one night through the halls in the castle. I heard voices in my parents’ room and wanted to say ‘goodnight’, but before I could, I heard glass smashing and terrible cries.

“I was only a child, but I knew what was happening. I didn’t want to believe it at first because why would the King and Queen do such horrible things to each other? But as I got older, I realised that they had fallen out of love and are only faking it for the kingdom.”

“Clay—”

“They don’t know that I know all of this; they think I’m as clueless as I was when I was nine. But I’m twenty-one now, and I know everything.”

Y/n screws her lips up, her throat burning with emotion. Why is she feeling like this?

“I don’t know what to say.” And it’s true. Y/n remains speechless as she listens to Dream tell her about his parents.

“Nothing. I just needed someone to know.” Dream is blunt with his words and releases Y/n’s hand. She feels awful for not being able to help him in the way he needs, but she’s not here to be his therapist—she’s here to murder him.

“Hey, how about we lighten the mood with some rock skipping?” And that’s just enough for Dream.

—

“Where are you staying?” Dream asks. Y/n is caught off guard by the question but tells him her orchestrated answer.

“In the castle, actually.”

Dream turns to look at her, a lopsided smile on his lips. “Really?” Y/n nods.

In an attempt to change the subject, Y/n picks up Dream’s hand from his lap. “Enough about me. Tell me what your favourite food is.”

Dream gives her a confused look before replying. “Vanilla cake.”

Y/n hums and fiddles with his fingers. “Interesting.”

Dream throws his head back to gaze at the moon above them. He is comfortably content at this moment with Y/n, despite only knowing her for a day. His eyes widen before he scrabbles to stand hastily. “I gotta go! You want to walk back together?”

“I’m going to stay here a bit longer, if that’s alright with you.” Y/n smiles at him and Dream nods. It is reaching midnight and Dream knows he’ll be in trouble for being out so late.

After he bids goodbye to Y/n, Dream begins his journey home. He hears wolves howling from behind the walls that surround the castle and goosebumps rise on his skin. It’s expectantly silent for the time of night, the only sound being animals as they scavenge.

Dream’s footsteps are heavy on the pathway back to the castle, and his heart rate picks up at the sound of trees rustling. With his head on a swivel, Dream spins around to face the bush. He sucks his lips between his teeth and continues, checking back every once in a while, to make sure he isn’t being followed.

He sees the grand entrance of the castle and his feet quicken. There’s a sudden whoosh behind him and then a breeze. A twig snaps in the distance and instead of running, he slows down. Dream forces himself to calm down—he’s only scaring himself.

“Dream~” A voice sings into the wind. The tune has Dream sprinting to the doors, his heart beating out of his chest. Surely, he didn’t hear what he thought he heard.

The wooden doors are heavy as he pushes them open before he stumbles inside. Dream is quick to close them once more, locking them in the process. He’s safe now, right?

A sliver of white ripped fabric floats in the wind on a spike outside of his window. Dream eyes it suspiciously, that wasn’t there last night.

He stretches his arms out, his joints cracking as his stare remains trained on the material. An uneasy feeling rises in his chest before his bedroom door opens suddenly.

“Clay~” His assistant, George, sings. He holds a tray in his hands and a beaming smile on his face. “Breakfast!”

“Hi.” At Dream’s wavering voice, George places the tray on the table and stalks over to the Prince.

“What’s wrong?” He sits on Dream’s bed and tries to meet his gaze.

“Somebody’s after me, George,” Dream whispers, his fearful eyes are staring into George’s.

“How do you know?”

“I just know.”

“Well, we have to inform the King and Queen at once, Clay!”

Dream shakes his head. “I’m sure I’ll be fine; besides, I’m inside the castle for most of the day anyways. There’s no way anybody like that could get in.”

George goes to interject but knows better than to do so. He trusts Dream, more than anyone else; if he says he’s fine, then he’s fine. Right?

“Ok… but if anything happens, you tell me. Got it?” George says his voice stern. Dream hasn’t heard this tone since he attempted to run from the castle last year after an argument with his parents. George had been scared out of mind when his best friend—the prince—was reported missing.

“Has this got anything to do with Y/n, perhaps?” Dream is bewildered that George would say such a thing. “No! I trust Y/n. She could never do such a thing.”

George nods timidly and apologises before he stands. “Breakfast is on your desk. I’ll be back later to collect the plates.”

Dream furrows his eyebrows as he watches George sulk. Why does Y/n worry him so much?

—

Dream walks in the moonlight along the high walls that surround the castle. If anybody knew he was out at this hour, he’d be in so much trouble. It wasn’t that his parents didn’t trust him; it was everybody else.

When he was younger, a groundskeeper had led him outside the gates with the intent to sell him off. The experience had left Dream untrusting to many, and although he was much older now, much more robust, he had a hard time getting to know people.

An owl hoots from the tree above him and the moon hangs behind its body, casting a shadow onto the dirt beneath. The silhouette is ghostly, and the sight makes the creature look much more sinister than it is.

Dream stops in his place and watches as the owl hops along the thick branch, the rustling of the leaves distracting him for a moment. The bird then pauses and turns to look at him. Dream smiles softly and whispers, “Hi, little owl.”

Much to his surprise, the owl actually hoots back. The sound makes Dream’s eyes widen as he continues to speak quietly to the bird.

A twig snapping behind him causes the owl to flap its wings and shoot off into the night, making Dream frown. He sighs before turning around with the intent of going back to the castle. He’s been out for long enough anyway.

His mind drifts to Y/n. He wonders where she is, his heart skipping a beat at the mere thought of her. It is ridiculous really, how quickly he’s fallen for a girl he only met a few weeks ago. But he knows she’s different from the princesses his family has tried to set him up with. Y/n is different in the sense that she actually makes him nervous—lovestruck, even.

The sound of someone clearing their throat catches Dream’s attention, and then he turns to his right to face the noise.

“Dream.” A voice says.

Dream freezes. His heart picks up speed as he’s met with a person, a mask covering their face. His hands begin to shake as the person draws closer.

As they approach him, Dream can tell it’s a woman. As sexist as it is, he knows he could take her if they were to engage in a fight. Dream scolds himself at the thought, and his frightened expression goes slack.

“Who are you?” He exclaims, pushing his hair from his eyes to get a better look.

“I’m here on orders from someone to kill you.”

Dream’s heart skips a beat. He knew it.

“I know.”

The girl stops in her place. “How?”

“I could feel it,” Dream gulps. “It’s happened before.”

The girl nods and lifts her arm. Dream squints into the darkness to see what she is doing before he’s being pushed backwards. He stumbles slightly before he regains balance and begins running.

“Dream~” The girl sings, her voice slightly distorted. Dream hears her loud and clear as he leaps over tree roots and dirt mounds.

“Leave me alone!”

She laughs and picks up speed behind him. Dream is shocked by how quickly she’s gaining on him, but he persists, nonetheless. A crooked smirk spreads across his cheeks as he looks back at her.

“I can’t do that.”

Dream’s lungs and throat burn as he draws in breaths. Adrenaline rushes through his veins, and his knees begin to buckle as he prepares his arms to catch him when he falls. He doesn’t run much. But despite the pain, a sly grin continues to play on his lips.

Dream’s feet give way below him, and then he’s tumbling onto the freshly mown grass. He’s run a long way, now lying in the garden rather than being in the forest. The moon sits high in the sky and shines down on him intensely.

And although he’s scared for his life, Dream can’t help but feel a little relieved. He moves to sit back on his heels as the girl comes up in front of him, a dagger drawn in her hand. It’s like a game to both of them.

“I’ve got you now, Dream,”

“It seems you do.”

The masked girl’s dagger presses firmly against his throat. The blade gleams in the moonlight, and the pressure elicits a groan from him.

Dream smiles as a drop of blood cascades down his chest. He enjoys the feeling a little more than he should, and the glint in her eye shows him that she does too. Why are her eyes so familiar?

“But I’ll spare you.”

Dream’s eyebrows furrow as he watches her pull her knife away from his neck and shove it back into the slot in her boot. “Why?”

The girl sighs, her arms relaxing by her side. “Because I—something’s telling me I should.”

She turns on her heel, looking around before she ducks into the line of trees behind them.

Dream exhales deeply, relieved—the small cut on his throat stinging as he tilts his head up to stare at the moon. He’s vulnerable in this position; on his knees and unarmed. Who would spare the prince if they had the perfect chance to kill him? What made her change her mind?

In his conversation with the moon, Dream thinks about the girl’s eyes and why they were so familiar to him—and why she spared him. He squints at the full moon, begging for answers, trying to remember where he’d seen such beauty.

His dazed smile is quickly wiped from his lips, and the realisation knocks the oxygen out of his lungs, and soon he’s gasping for air and clawing his chest—it’s Y/n.

Dream sits at the long dining table with a new plate of eggs and turkey.

“Dreamy, darling, are you going to eat?” The Queen asks, her head lolling to the side as she talks to her son.

Dream’s lips twitch as he shakes his head. “Not that hungry.”

Y/n was on the verge of killing him last night.

“Oh? Are you feeling okay?”

Dream then nods, resting his cheek in his palm. His hair is messy, and his clothes remain skewed from sleeping. He usually didn’t present himself like this at breakfast.

“Yes, perfectly fine. I’m sorry for not looking presentable this morning.”

His mother sighs, her hand reaching out to grasp his free one. “That’s alright.”

Dream gives her a tight-lipped smile and squeezes her hand. He notes that her ring finger is bare but decides against saying anything.

“Where’s dad?” He asks instead. His mother stills, her face unreadable as she nods once.

“He had to leave this morning—business in L’Manberg.”

Dream doesn’t speak and lifts his hand, picking up his fork. The action elicits a soft smile from his mother. He stabs a slice of grilled turkey and brings it to his mouth.

—

“Clay!”

At the sound of his name, Dream turns around.

It’s after breakfast and Dream stands in the corner of the ballroom gazing out of the large windows that look onto the back garden. The head cook, and one of his best friends, Nick, is approaching him. “Nick?”

His friend laughs, untying his apron from behind his back before he lays it over the end of one of the sofas. Dream steps forward to embrace Nick in a hug. “How have you been?”

Nick contemplates his answer before he responds. “Flippin’ awesome.” Dream’s jaw goes slack at the cooking pun and chuckles.

“Ha, ha. SO funny.”

The pair pull away, and Dream faces the window again. The sapphire butterflies that flutter around the apple tree outside bring him a sense of comfort as Nick comes up beside him. The pair bask in warmth from the sun, the window making it much hotter than it is.

“I’ve missed you, man. The kitchen’s been boring without you sneaking in.” Nick frowns and Dream feels his stomach drop. He takes a glance at the shorter man and sighs.

“I’m sorry, bro. George said it’s ideal for me not to sneak around at night because—”

Dream’s breath hitches in his throat, eliciting a cough. Nick shoots him a look. “Because of what?”

“Erm—uh, I guess there’s somebody after me.”

“What? Really?”

Dream nods, wiping his nose with his fist. Nick struggles to find the words to say. “You don’t need to say anything; I don’t expect you to. I just thought I should let you know.”

Nick exhales deeply, bringing his hand up to run his fingers through his hair. “That’s rough.”

“Yeah,” Dream whispers. The two of them stand in silence as they watch the insects fly around in the sunlight. “Come here.”

Then Dream’s pulling Nick into another hug. This time, their embrace means something, and Dream knows it’ll be one of the last times he sees his best friend. Be safe. I love you.

A sniffle from Nick prompts Dream to push him away at arm's length, his hands resting on his shoulders. The younger man complains about how embarrassing it is seeing him cry, but Dream shakes his head in assurance. “It’s okay—I’ll be okay.”

“I hope so; I can’t imagine this place without you.”

Dream sits on his bed, silently. He recalls the events from last night and exhales deeply. A million questions run through his mind as he shifts positions, now choosing to lay on his back and stare at the high ceiling. His fingertips come up to brush the scabbing cut on his neck.

Why did he somewhat enjoy the blade against his neck? Why wasn’t he scared when it pierced his skin? Would he tell George? But most of all, why was Y/n after him? He trusted her–didn’t he?

A sudden knock on his bedroom door and the quiet sweep of paper against wood brings him from his screaming mind. He sits up abruptly, spotting the piece of parchment on the timber floor. Dream glances out of the window quickly and goes to snatch it from the ground.

The crinkling of paper is loud as he rushes to open it.

Meet me at the Astronomy Tower at noon.

Dream’s eyebrows fly to his hairline. Y/n wants to meet with him. Would she mention what happened last night? Does she know he knows it’s her? Is she planning to kill him right now?

Another knock makes him jump. But this time, it opens.

“Clay?”

“George!” Dream exclaims, pulling his assistant by his sleeve into the room, the door closing behind them.

“Uh, yes?” George is confused at Dream’s jagged movements. Dream shoves the letter into the older boy’s hands and waits for his reaction. When George doesn’t reply, Dream rolls his eyes.

“It’s from Y/n!”

“Well, you have to go.”

Dream is both shocked and relieved. “I have to go?”

George nods. He reads over the letter one last time before he gives it back to Dream. George squints when he notices his friend’s slightly pink cheeks.

“Why are you blushing?”

Dream immediately coughs in an attempt to cover up his embarrassment. George keeps his eyes on him as he does so, screwing his lips up in slight irritation that somebody can make Dream flustered.

“Oh! Do you have a crush?” George teases, although it’s more of an accusation than a joke. Dream laughs, shoving him away. George chooses to ignore the tugging at his heart when he hears the Prince giggle like that.

“I don’t like her—I can’t. She’d kill me, George.” Dream jokes, patting his friend on the back. But is he really joking?

“Kill you?”

Dream laughs, spinning on his heel whilst shrugging. “Kill me.”

“Did you speak to Nick this morning?” George asks, his fake smile flipping into a frown. The mood drops immediately, all laughs, and carelessness forgotten.

Dream nods. “I told him how I think somebody’s after me again. He looked pretty scared.”

“He was worried when I told him you wanted to talk to him about it.” George tilts his head and sighs.

“...It’s nearly noon. I better get going.” Dream deflects the topic, choosing to stand tall once more. He doesn’t want George to suspect anything’s wrong with Y/n, so he puts on a false façade, a smile stretching across his cheeks.

George doesn't say anything and tries to make his smile believable as he opens Dream’s bedroom door for him. “Have fun, I guess.”

The younger man practically skips out of the room, and when he is halfway down the hallway, he turns. “What was it that you needed, George? When you knocked before?”

George dismisses his question. “Not important. Now, go!”

Although, to George, it is crucial, and now he has missed his chance.

—

Dream’s boots slap the cobblestone steps as he makes his way up the tower. He peers around the corner, wary of his movements as he goes. When he reaches the top, he cautiously tiptoes to the balcony. His hand goes to trace the scab forming on his neck and forgets it when he hears her.

“Clay?” Her voice is soft, holding much more kindness than it did when she had a blade to his throat. “Y/n.”

He sees her perched on a picnic mat, a basket next to her. Dream tilts his head as he watches her stand and approaches him. Her arms wrap around his neck in a hug and then he’s hugging her back. “Hi.”

“Hey,” She laughs, pulling back slightly to admire his face. “I missed you today.” Dream gives a muffled noise of agreement into her shoulder.

Y/n steps back and squints at his neck. “What happened?” Her fingers delicately feel the wound before Dream dodges her.

“Nothing, nothing. What’s all this?”

She appears to overlook his shitty deflection and motions towards the place where she was sitting. “I made us a picnic.”

The way she smiles almost makes Dream forget who she is. He forces a smile back, his heart aching at the realisation of reality. She’ll kill him soon.

“I baked a cake for you, vanilla—you said that was your favourite, right?” Y/n’s anxious actions worry Dream as he sits down next to her. He lifts his head to look out over the land, and the view is breath-taking.

“Woah,” He breathes.

Y/n smiles brightly at him, glancing at the green hills and blue skies before she focuses on cutting a slice of cake.

“You know, I never really admired this view until I met you.” Dream confesses—and it’s true. Y/n pauses, gazing at him as he turns towards her.

“Really?”

He nods, his breath hitching in his throat at the sight of her. She truly is gorgeous. “You’re pretty.”

Y/n’s eyes widen, and she feels her cheeks flush. “Oh, thank you, Clay. You’re pretty too.” Her hair falls in front of her face as she looks down, and Dream feels a pang in his heart.

“Have some cake,” Y/n mumbles, handing him a napkin with the dessert placed on it. The sweet looks delectable, and Dream can’t wait to take a bite—unless…

“You know what? I’m not that hungry, actually. But the cake looks delicious. Thank you.” Y/n furrows her eyebrows, and a look of hurt flashed across her face. “Oh.”

She hurries to take it back from him, but he refuses to give it to her. “What are you doing?” She asks.

Dream motions for her to cut another piece, “I’ll only eat if you do.”

Y/n nods slowly, moving the knife to slice into the cake once more. She flips it onto another napkin and brings it towards her mouth.

“What? You think it’s poisonous?” Y/n laughs, watching as Dream becomes flustered. “No!”

His response is quick and cautious, but Y/n doesn’t seem to notice as she takes a bite of her piece of cake. Dream watches as she chews and swallows, earning a confused glance from her. Nothing happens.

“Well, I didn’t drop dead. Your turn,” She laughs, hurt still evident on her features. Dream feels guilty. He holds the cake surprisingly firmly, bringing it to his lips. His heart races as he puts it between his teeth and bites down. The cake is very sweet, and it’s good. Dream catches Y/n’s eye as he eats, giving her a nod of approval. She smiles widely and visibly relaxes.

The action calms something in Dream, too. He finishes off his cake and waits for Y/n to do the same. He sees some white frosting fall onto the bodice of her dress, the sugary mixture tumbling down onto her skirt. The girl doesn’t seem to notice as she licks the remaining icing off her fingers.

“Uh—Y/n, you got some—uh,” Dream motions to her skirt, and watches as she sighs deeply. “Awww, I just washed these.”

Dream stifles a giggle when Y/n scrunches her nose up and goes to wipe it off. As small as the action is, Dream’s heart skips a beat at her cute expression. He scolds himself for feeling such this way; she tried to kill you last night.

He eyes the knife next to the basket, sweet frosting covering the blade. The growing desire to grab it and ram it right through her chest burns in his mind, but he holds back. He clenches his jaw, and for the first time, Dream is terrified of himself.

He shakes the deranged through from his head. What was that?

Dream watches as Y/n shoves the used napkin into the basket and lifts her eyes to meet his. He smiles softly, causing Y/n to cover her face with her hands. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” He laughs, reaching to poke her in the ribs. Y/n yelps quietly, jolting when he shocks her side. “Stop making me flustered. It’s hardly polite.”

Dream stops, the tips of his ears reddening. He makes her nervous? “Oh, come on now.”

The rasp in his voice makes Y/n freeze. She peers at him through her fingers and sees him smirking at her. She lets out a high-pitched sound and returns her hands over her eyes. As much as Dream hates to admit it, there’s a fuzzy feeling in his chest.

“Clay, I’m going to take my hands away from my eyes now, and you better not say anything suggestive.”

Dream chuckles, extending his arms out to grasp her fingers and pull them down. She doesn’t meet his gaze as he holds her hands in her lap. Birds chirp and fly past the balcony, their singing being a perfect addition to the atmosphere the pair had created.

They don’t say anything as they lean closer. Dream tilts his head slightly, a small smile gracing his face as he sees Y/n do the same.

“Prince Clay, the Queen would like to see you in the castle.”

The two of them are still at the sound of another. George stands at the top of the stairs, a scroll in his right hand. Dream rolls his eyes in annoyance, throwing Y/n an apologetic look as he releases her hands. “Thanks, George.”

“I—I’ll see you later?” Y/n whispers as she watches Dream clamber up to his full height. He nods hastily, not giving her a second look, and rushes out behind George. He feels her stare on the back of his skull but continues.

Y/n sits in silence as the clanging of the wooden door downstairs slams against the stone walls. The chirping of the birds outside dies down, and she frowns.

As much as she’s supposed to detest Dream, Y/n feels butterflies cluster in her stomach at the mere thought of him. The idea of killing him causes the butterflies to turn to spiders and makes Y/n feel sick. She can’t go through with this—not now, not ever.

—

“Dre—Clay.”

Dream freezes; his mother only uses his real name when things are serious. He nods once, prompting his mother to continue.

“Your father has yet to return to the kingdom from his trip to L’Manberg. However, plans have changed, and it seems he’ll be there longer than expected.” The Queen’s voice is steady but has undertones of utter sadness, which Dream picks up on instantly.

“Why?” He asks.

“He gave me a straight answer; business.”

Dream doesn’t say nor does anything. Instead, he remains still. His lack of response earns a reaction from his mother, however. “What is it?”

“Is it why you don’t wear your ring anymore?” Dream refuses to meet her eye, afraid he’ll upset her more than he already has with his question.

The Queen inhales sharply, glancing at her hand before she composes herself. “Yes.”

Her voice is just above a whisper, but Dream catches it. His heart clenches, and then he finally meets her watery eyes.

Dream’s hard exterior breaks as he wraps his arms around his mother. He uses his finger to usher the guards and assistants out of the room and then rests his hand on the back of her hair in an attempt to quiet her soft cries.

He tries his best to be strong for her, swallowing the growing lump in his throat.

The room is far too silent for Dream’s liking, and he wishes for something to happen to break it.

And something does. The slam of the double doors makes the pair jump, Dream spinning around to see who had interrupted.

Y/n stands there, the same picnic basket in her hand. “I’m sorry for intruding!”

Dream’s mother quickly wipes under her eyes and places her usual people-pleasing smile on. “What can I do for you, darling?”

Y/n walks further into the room, glancing at Dream momentarily before opening the basket in front of the Queen.

“I brought you some berries. I was speaking to Dream earlier, and he told me you loved strawberries. So, I picked some for you, myself.” Her smile is deceiving, Dream can tell, but it’s also warming, and kind and his chest aches at the sight of it.

The Queen gasps, her hands going to take the basket from Y/n. She peers in and sees it full to the brim with the berries. “Oh my,”

Y/n’s smile grows, her eyes meeting Dream’s. Although he knows her true intentions, he’s extremely grateful for her kindness. “Thank you, Y/n.”

“Yes, yes, thank you!” His mother beams. She turns around and starts walking towards another door behind them.

Once the door closes, Y/n grins at Dream, and he smiles back. His heart twists in his chest, and his eyes burn with tears. Oh, how silly I am, he thinks.

The next time Dream sees Y/n, and she’s under the wooden bridge in the garden, her hair and undergarments drenched. The sun burns intensely down on his neck as he approaches her.

Y/n watches the lake rush under her, the odd fish jumping out and diving back into the freezing water. It’s a harsh contrast to the weather outside, swelteringly hot and humid, but Y/n doesn’t pay any mind when she contemplates going for a swim.

She jogs off the bridge and circles back around to shuffle down the steep, grass bank. Butterflies flutter majestically around her, enhancing the experience of being in an actual kingdom rather than a desert village—it's magical.

Y/n’s eyes dart around before her hands tend to her back to untie her bodice. She sucks on her bottom lip, and she does so, the process takes far too long.

Throwing the structured clothing to the grass, she then moves to her top skirt, pulling it up over her head. Her heeled boots and frilly socks are the last things to remove and then Y/n is left standing in a plain cream skirt and button-up.

She pays no attention to her surroundings as she lifts her remaining skirt and dips her toes into the icy lake, her mouth forming an ‘o’ shape at the temperature.

From here, Y/n can see that the middle of the lake is the deepest point; the bottom is nowhere in sight through the clear water.

Y/n doesn’t think twice as she leaps into the middle, her entire body submerging under the surface. Her senses are shocked, and her throat closes at the sudden chill. Y/n claws at the water to reach the surface, and then she feels the sun on her cheeks. She takes a large breath and wipes her eyes.

“Y/n?” The girl turns towards the sound of Dream’s voice.

“Clay?” She smiles. He runs down the bank and towards the water, although he stops before he can dive in.

“What are you doing?” He calls, tilting his head at her. “Swimming.”

Dream rolls his eyes, “Obviously!”

This elicits a giggle from Y/n as she swims to the edge, her clothes drenched and her heavy makeup running down her face.

“Hi,” Y/n says as she draws closer. Dream tries fighting a smile at the sight of her in her undergarments. He feels the tips of his ears redden. “I don’t care if you see me like this, Clay.”

He doesn’t say anything as he reaches his hands for her cheeks. He thinks she looks absolutely gorgeous. But the rising impulse to push her head under the water and never let her up is powerful. Once his fingertips brush her cheek, his breathing becomes laboured and clenches his jaw. She tried to kill you.

Y/n notices him vacantly staring at her and waves her hand in front of his eyes. “Clay?”

Dream’s blank expression doesn’t waver. Instead, Y/n swears, she sees his green eyes darken. His hands move from her cheeks to her shoulders, and his grip tightens. Y/n’s face scrunches in uncertainty, and she tries to shift from under his secure hold. Dream’s glare turns wicked as she continues to withdraw. “Clay? Stop, you’re scaring me.”

His head cocks to the side mockingly, his arms going to push her shoulders down. Y/n losing footing on the rocks under her feet and her neck reaches the water. She claws hastily at his hands, and soon she’s gulping mouthfuls of the icy water. Dream shows no signs of stopping until the sound of her screams brings him from his empty glare. “S-Stop it-t!”

“Y/n?”

Dream blinks, and his face softens. He furrows his eyebrows when he sees Y/n struggling to keep her head above the water and grips under her armpits to pull her to stand again. Dream becomes increasingly worried as he sees tears running down her cheeks instead of lake water and makeup, opening his mouth to pour out apologies.

Y/n stays silent, her eyes shooting from his gaze to the water. She is confused and scared. Questions run through her mind at a million miles per second. Why? Why, why, why? Does he know why she is actually here? Does he know her true intentions? Did he just try and drown her?

“What’s your problem?” Y/n yells, scrambling up the edge of the lake and towards her dry clothes. Dream says nothing. Why did he do that?

“I—I’m so sorry, Y/n.” Maybe it wasn’t her who had a dagger to his throat all that time ago. Perhaps she’s just a normal girl.

Y/n snarls at him, her top lip curled up in disgust. “I don’t want to see you anymore.”

The words shock Dream back into reality. “No! No, no.”

“Yes. Now, leave me alone, Clay.” Y/n spits as she gathers her clothes and stomps back towards the castle.

Dream stays crouching next to the lake. He stares at his reflection in the water. It twists and turns into a horrible creature baring sharp teeth and dark, dark eyes. He shakes his head instantly; the reflection swirling back into himself.

What is going on?

—

The fire almost burns Y/n’s icy hands as she inches closer to the flame. With her dry clothes on, her hair is still wet, and it drips down the back of her bodice and skirts, making her even colder; Y/n regrets not drying her hair before she got dressed.

As she stares into the fire, Dream’s void expression and evil eyes eat away at her conscience, making her squeeze her eyes shut at the thought.

“You,”

The sound of a singular word makes Y/n turn around. George, Dream’s assistant, stands in front of her. His hard eyes are glaring at her as she cocks her head. “George?”

“You’re here to kill him, aren’t you?” He spits, backing away slowly. Y/n's face shifts to one of shock, her hands shaking in at her sides.

“Kill him? I would never do such a thing! If anything, he tried to kill me half an hour ago! At the bridge!”

George scoffs, inching his hand towards the fire poker that leans against the brick fireplace next to him. “You know, you really need to work on your coyness, Y/n.”

She rolls her eyes at him, her teeth chattering as she does so. “You’re ridiculous, George. I love him despite his mistakes.”

The man lets out a grunt. “You don’t!”

Y/n steps back at his sudden aggressiveness. She sees the fire poker in his whitening knuckles and then stares at him in bewilderment. “Stop it! You’re going to hurt yourself or me.”

A sinister laugh escapes George’s throat as he brings the sharp object up to her face, “Oh, I’m definitely going to hurt you. You’re not going anywhere near Clay, again.”

At his sentence, Y/n stills, and her concerned expression falls slack. She’s done this more times than she can count. Her cold hands intertwine in front of her stomach as a look of confusion crosses George’s face.

“Listen, I came here to do one thing, and whether or not that plan has changed is none of your business,” Y/n says her stare never wavering.

She hates to make it so vague, but she knows if he told him the truth, she’d be dead either way—whether that be by George and his fire poker, or by Wilbur Soot and his many friends that could have her head on a pitchfork at any given moment.

George narrows his eyes at her. “You’re lying.”

She shrugs; Y/n knows not to show fear; it would only motivate him more.

The end of the poker is dangerously close to her face, and George sighs before he lowers it. “You love him?”

Y/n’s eyes soften, and she recoils slightly. She blinks slowly, her eyes coming to rest on her feet. Y/n hates showing emotion, choosing to spill everything in isolation rather than unveiling her vulnerability to potential threats.

George only nods and retreats, placing the poker back next to the fireplace. He hesitates before he speaks, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. George drops his head and sighs, his heart shattering at the mere thought of Dream, returning her feelings.

“I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, but I know one thing; I’ve never seen Clay like this before, so please don’t hurt him. I can tell he cares about you, dearly.” He refuses to meet Y/n’s eye as he turns to exit.

She becomes wary of his sudden change in mood but decides against asking him any questions as she sees the tail of his dress coat float around the corner of the doorframe.

George almost couldn’t believe his eyes when he walked into Dream’s bedroom the next morning. The sunlight had only just begun to flood the kingdom, the clock on the wall showing 6:18 am.

“Why are you already up? Who are you?” George jokes approaching his best friend. Dream sits hunched over his desk, his quill hurrying over a piece of parchment. George furrows his brows at the strange behaviour but chooses to ignore it as he pulls a chair beside Dream.

The younger man stops his actions and glances at his assistant. “What are you doing?”

George pales. “I—uh, just wanted to see what you are doing.” Dream throws him a dirty look before he angles his body away.

George bites the inside of his cheek, his body filling with rage at Dream’s attitude. “What’s your deal?”

Dream stills; George has never spoken to him like that before. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Clay! Why are you so secretive all of a sudden? You always tell me what’s going on.”

The Prince doesn’t seem to notice the absolute heartbreak and sadness in his assistant’s voice and clenches his fists. “Just fuck off, George! You’re my assistant, not my friend. I only call you when I need you. Got it?”

You could hear a pin drop in the silence that follows. George feels his entire body tingle as it falls numb, his stomach turning sickly. He watches as Dream huffs and turns back to his piece of paper, like a child; his arm covering the page and his other scribbling down words or exactly that—scribbles.

It takes everything in George to stand up and leave. His legs are jelly as he wobbles out; his tears finally spilling down his cheeks. He shuts Dream’s bedroom door quietly, not anger him further, and runs down the hall towards his own room.

The halls are silent, not a soul in sight but the broken one that floats behind George while he tries to swallow choked sobs.

He hops down a few stairs, and then he’s pushing his door open, slamming it behind him in total defeat. He slides down the back of it, his hands coming to cover his flushed face. George scratches at his chest as he struggles to quieten the sound of his laboured breathing and hiccups. His heartbeat stutters within his ribcage—but that’s the least of his worries.

This is the suffering of complete and utter heartbreak, and now George knows how it feels after three years of dreading it. He screws his eyes shut, in hopes of stopping the tears and forces himself to calm down.

He loves Clay as more than a friend—this he knows is true. But, George scolds himself for being so foolish for thinking the Prince would reciprocate his one-sided love.

And as the air fills his lungs, George stops. He holds his breath for as long as he can—the burning of his body screaming for him to breathe is the only thing he feels. He’s lightheaded as he gazes out of the window opposite him. The oak trees rustle in the dawn breeze, and it's tranquil. He feels his heart clench in his chest and then an unbearable searing pain that he can only compare to tossing your body into a fire and feeling it melt your skin.

The world is peaceful as he continues to let his body ignite and soon dwindle into nothing.

And as the sun rises higher, his body slumps lower onto the ground, his eyes glassy and still staring out at the garden.

—

Meet me in the garden at dusk.

Her fingers trace the outline of the scraggly letters. Dream’s letter is vague, with no real meaning and nothing to indicate why he wants to meet. Usually, George delivered Dream’s letters to Y/n, but today it was rushed to her by another servant from the castle. Weird.

Y/n squints closer at the letter; she can see how hard Dream drove the quill into the paper by the letters’ slightly ripped edges. Leaning closer, the smell of lavender seeps through the parchment. There are no lavender plants in the garden.

Instead of going unprepared, Y/n reaches into the desk drawer and retrieves her dagger. She brings it towards her face and tilts it in the light, the metal reflecting into her eyes. Lifting her skirts on one side, Y/n shoves the knife into the case clasped around her thigh. It's subtle and easy to get to if needed.

Y/n sighs, reading over the letter one last time before she walks towards the fire in the corner. She tosses it into the flames, watching as reds and oranges engulf the paper.

She knows what comes next. If Dream wants her to meet him, then she’ll do it, but she also has to go through with her duties whether she likes it or not.

Y/n draws nearer to the garden, her eyes darting around the trees in hopes—or in fear—of seeing Dream. The sun burns in the distance, begging to say goodbye for the day as it watches the girl tiptoe over tree roots.

Once she enters the area enclosed by stone walls and arches, tears gather in Y/n’s eyes when she sees him, her heartstrings pulling violently in her chest. Dream stands on the other side of the garden, the thorns from the rose bush piercing his dress pants. Y/n remains frozen under one of the stone arches at the garden’s entrance, her dagger prominent in its case around her thigh.

His cold stare meets her cautious eyes and his face does nothing to soothe her nerves like it usually does. Instead, his stern expression stirs panic around in her stomach and makes her feel ill. Y/n abandons her original plan to stay withdrawn from the situation because once she sees him, she breaks.

“I can’t kill you, Clay!”

Dream freezes at her sudden shout. The pain in her voice makes him clench his jaw, and soon he’s approaching her. “What?”

Y/n inhales sharply, her breath hitching in her throat before she continues. “You know that I came here to kill you, you figured it out! And now I can’t go through with it.”

“Why?” Dream’s glare challenges her.

“Don’t make me answer that,”

“Y/n,”

“Clay.”

“I asked you a question. Answer it.”

Y/n squeezes her eyes shut, her fists tense by her sides. Dream’s blunt tone is the last thing she needs to suppress her feelings further. “Because I hate you and I can’t possibly assassinate you when I have feelings like that—it’s immoral.”

He scoffs at her horrible excuse. “If you truly hate me, I would’ve been dead the first second you saw me. Don’t lie to me, Y/n.”

Y/n could scream—in frustration, in anger, in heartbreak. She wants to stand on the ledge of the Astronomy Tower and scream about how much she loves him; scream about how much she hates him; scream about how she would go to the ends of the earth for a man she is supposed to murder.

“Leave me, Clay. I need to be alone.”

With the shake of his head, Dream steps closer. “You love me; that’s why. It took me a while to realise, but I know now. And the worst part is, I love you too.”

The confession has Y/n panicking. Her eyes widen, and her hands scramble to snatch the knife from her thigh—but Dream’s quicker. He leaps towards her, his body colliding with hers as they stumble onto the grass. Y/n’s dagger presses against his neck, but there’s one against hers too.

An unfamiliar panic runs through Y/n as she feels a blade across her throat, but she keeps a hard exterior. The deadly look in Dream’s eye catches Y/n off guard as she pushes her knife firmly. A split appears on his skin—his blood dripping onto her neck, making him readjust his grip on his own dagger.

His mother’s face flashes through Dream’s mind while he swallowed thickly. He apologises in his thoughts as he glares at Y/n.

The heat of his hot blood on her skin is unlike anything Y/n’s felt before; maybe it’s the bloodlust or something else, but Dream notices.

Y/n opens her lips to speak but is stopped when he leans down to press his mouth against hers. The kiss is contrastingly soft compared to the incredibly vulnerable and intense position they’re in. Dream’s skin burns where the cut is and feels it grow as he leans closer to her face. Y/n gasps when she feels metal pierce her skin, and soon they’re whispering into each other’s lips.

The end is near. And as Y/n stares into Dream’s enchanting, sinister eyes, she reaches.

She reaches for the release she’s been begging for since she met him. She’s desperate to feel him one last time—in love and not hate. There's one final strand of hope that maybe, just maybe, he can see her dying love for him seep through her ever-growing bloodlust and absolute inhumanity.

But he doesn’t. And the same devilish grin he wore when she had a blade to his throat for the first time splits his red cheeks. The twinkle in her eye tells him she feels it too, and then her teeth bare a vile smirk.

“I’ll love you forever, Clay.”

“Forever is the sweetest con, my love.”

There are dull sweeps of blades across skin, and then there’s silence.

Excruciating, deafening nothingness.

And as the sun dips beyond the horizon, Y/n and Clay’s hands intertwine, not once sparing a glance back at their bodies that lay cold on the cobblestone pathway.

Feedback is always appreciated xx

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