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The palace had been quiet for days now. The silence of grief that couldn’t seem to shake when it was put against everything else they were facing. The war between allies had left Central grieving and Dream didn’t know how to help. He didn’t know if he could help. Not when his own heart felt like it might be cleaved open against the weight of his emotions.
His mask stayed firm on his face. A protection that he wasn’t willing to remove. He needed the safety of it now more than he had before, he thought. The mask that he had made with his mother to protect his expressions from his father’s sight. It was so that he could smile when his father couldn’t. It was so that his father wouldn’t see his tears when he beat him. So that no one would know when something hurt and they wouldn’t know how to keep breaking him apart. It was safety. A protection that he thought when he came to the Central palace and was chosen to be the knight of the Prince that he might one day outgrow.
He was wrong.
Dream had forged a family here. His knight and his squire brothers with him. He made friends. He studied and he worked hard. He’d been here since he was eight and over the years since then he had healed from the sickness he thought would be with him until his dying day. He had started his combat training and seen the way Sam would smile at him. How his knight would try to keep his praise smaller when there were others out in the yard with them but in their more tailored lessons he would compliment his strikes and his footwork as much as he corrected him. He would guide him in the exact way a squire should be by their knight.
Dream had earned the trust of his Prince and George had come to call him a friend instead of a useless weight stuck to his side. Sapnap and Punz had formed a bond with him that he could only compare to one person from his home. His squire brothers took him in under their wings. They taught him and teased him and gave him advice when they thought they could help. It was a near war between the four of them and their knight at all times. The jokes of calling Sam their dad hanging in the air around them like a comfort.
Dream didn’t tell any of them about his home. He didn’t tell any of them that he wished Sam truly was his dad. That the man that had held that title for the first eight years of his life was cruel beyond compare and he was glad to be in a place that would keep him warm and protected. A place that loved him, that offered him food and water and help if he needed it. A place where he could go to his knight if he woke up from a nightmare and couldn’t go back to sleep. Where Sam would take him to the kitchens and heat milk for him to drink or take him to the yard to train the energy away. Even if it was just the two of them sitting in the knight’s hall together and talking about anything and everything and nothing all at the same time.
Central’s palace became his home and Dream wanted to make sure it stayed safe and protected. It was his duty as a knight. Even though he was still only a squire he would count himself within the mission. He would count it since it was the one thing he was working toward in his life. To be stronger. To be faster. To be braver. His job was to protect the Prince and he wanted to do that no matter the cost. The duty of a knight was to their royal. Sam would protect the King. Ant would protect the Queen. Dream would protect the Prince.
Eight months ago Central received the first marks of war from the nation that had been their closest ally since the founding of the Compass Kingdoms. The East had turned against them after four years of silence and tragedy. Dream had sat with George that night on his bedroom floor. Listening to his friend cry and shout. He’d let George hit at him. His anger and confusion and his hurt. Dream didn’t mind. He’d held his Prince in return. Knowing that this war meant the true and full and formal loss of a friend he thought he would have forever.
A friend he was meant to have forever.
Eight months since the start of the war and his knight was forced into duty of leading the army alongside their royals. Dream had noticed the change in him even though he could barely think to put it into words. The training turned more harsh as the time went on. Sam stopped giving the praise he’d given before. Dream felt more that he was walking on eggshells than he was standing beside his knight and protector.
Afraid was not the right word. He was not afraid of Sam in the way he was afraid of his father. When he was still in that house, locked in that basement, his father had been like a phantom from the stories that his mother had told him about. His father was the monster that he had learned in every childhood story. He was left to pick up the pieces of what he could find that was left. He was the child that put together that monsters were things of myth unless they were inside a human image.
Sam was not a monster.
Sam would never be a monster.
He’d thought the same thing of his father, once upon a time.
Grief was the beast that changed him.
Grief was what he saw and felt when he stood now beside his knight. The aching hurt that stilled inside him and told him not to breathe too harshly and remind him what he’d lost.
Four months ago they had buried one of his brothers. His unit had been ambushed, attacked, slaughters. Half of them were killed outright and left to rot int he field. The rest of them were beaten and maimed. Cut by the butchers of the East and dragged to posts staked into the ground. Their armors were stripped from them just enough to carve words into their bodies. For ropes to latch into their skin instead of cloth as they were tied to the posts. Strung and posed and blindfolded to be messages to the nation they were fighting for.
For Central to see her soldiers blinded and cut. For Central to see people slaughtered like they were less than human.
Sam grieved, Dream grieved. Boomer had not been the only knight killed in that manner and they were not the only ones who grieved but the changes had begun then. Sam’s silence. Sam’s stillness. The anger that he could see simmering under the surface. The only words he heard from his knight turned to stiff corrections. Sam wasn’t in his room when he went to find him after a nightmare.
Dream took to the kitchens alone. He tried to warm milk to find his knight. To help Sam sleep.
He went to the Knight’s Hall to find him and talk to him and help his knight to sleep.
A knight’s duty was to their squire. A squire’s duty was to their knight.
Dream had to do his duty.
He failed.
For four months, he failed. Working himself harder in his training to try to take one thing off of Sam’s plate. He knew that his knight was struggling with the weight of his duties. That he was the one who had to bear the weight of the fallen soldiers when they came home by the wagon. There were sobs and screams that filled the barracks at night. It was turning to the point that he tried to find excuses to go to his Prince in the night. To stand guard over him, he would say. George only ever stared at him. Holding open his bedding and telling him it’ll be easier to protect him from the bed rather the door.
They both knew the truth. Neither of them were brave enough to say it out loud.
They day started as any other had in recent weeks. The horns of arrivals sounding through the yard and sending knights to drop their training from their squires and focus instead to the gates. To gather and be ready to give aid for wherever they were able. Medics were standing at the ready. Dream could see Sir Ponk keeping an eye on Sam. The two of them were close and he hoped that if he couldn’t find Sam in the night that Ponk had him. That he was guarding him and keeping him safe and getting him to sleep when Dream himself couldn’t.
If it helped with the pressure of the meetings and paperwork and burials and planning, Dream didn’t mind. He could make himself good enough one day. Even if that day wasn’t today, he would try. He would always try.
Sam’s silence had felt cold all morning. Like he had known something awful was coming but Dream hadn’t known what until he saw the ten wagons being brought into the yard. He he recognized the soldiers that were still standing. Stragglers that were far too few for what a movement of this size would warrant. The white coverings over the wagons that dotted through in red and rusty browns—he knew what it was. He knew what those wagons held. He knew what the small number of those standing meant.
He did not see a wagon for the wounded. Only many for the dead.
He’d paid attention to Sam’s meetings. Part of being his squire and the history and title he already carried had meant that he was permitted at Sam’s side through his meetings. Unless they overlapped with his studies and other duties then that was where he’d found himself. He’d worked over his own lesson papers while Sam worked on his own in his office or in his tent. Dream had listened as knights gave their reports. He had heard the status of the war from the royals and the commanding knights. He had stood at George’s side while they watched their Western Counterparts ask to join in to give their aid. How Prince Parker of the West had held George’s hand and pulled him away to talk to him about what they could do to help and Dream had been left with nothing to hear other than the pain in his knight’s voice when he explained that more squires were ready to be knighted and sent out. How he was trying to find a place in the war to send them that would not have them killed before their time.
Dream had made the mistake of giving input for that only once.
He had listened to his knight trying to shift the fronts around to protect the knights on what he thought they were capable of. Dream had commented that that may be the very problem they were facing.
“They’re all tired from travel when they make it to their relocation. It doubles the amount of knights fighting in unfamiliar territory. The training is good, they’re ready for the war or they wouldn’t be knights. Why don’t—”
“You are a child. A squire. You do not understand.”
“Explain it to me?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“But Sam—”
His knight had left. Speed biting against his heels as he turned and for the next two days he had barely gotten his knight to look at him. Dream still held the same thoughts. He could not parse together why it wasn’t at least tried. He had scoured through the history books in the library to find any kind of sign that it was something done before in Central or in the rest of the Compass and if that was the reason for why. If there was some tactical reason that had been tried and found true that they could not send fresh knights to the Fronts to fight.
The wagons came to a stop. Medics at the ready with stretchers to help carry them and mark them. Dream came to stand beside Sam to watch.
He had been in the room to see some of them be knighted.
They were sent to areas to be safer and they died anyway.
If their end wouldn’t change then wasn’t it worth the risk to try?
“There’s so many of them.”
Sam didn’t look at him but Dream saw the barely there nod.
“They did not deserve to die like this.”
One of the bodies was cut and maimed. Their hair was matted and stuck to see the line where a blindfold had been knotted around their eyes. A knight came to stand at attention in front of them.
“Sir,” Dream caught how his eyes flashed down to him before redirecting back to Sam. “The transport road was attacked. It was an ambush. They targeted the weary already. Our wounded were slaughtered first and then—”
He cut off with a choking sound. Sam reached out to steady the soldier and waved for a medic to come to them. Ponk was the first one to respond. The Lead of the medics and the Lead of the knights. Dream didn’t say a word while Ponk worked the knight away to be treated and to rest. The silence that left between him and his knight felt almost suffocating.
“Sam?”
He knew he was listening even if he wasn’t given a proper response.
“We should send knights to the transport road to clear it, shouldn’t we?”
Sam’s fist clenched at his side. It wasn’t a threat, just a nervous habit he’d noticed when Sam was thinking through things he didn’t like.
“It can wait, we have other roads.”
“They aren’t as fast as this one.”
“I know that.”
“Then why—”
“I do not have the knights to pull from the Fronts to clear this road and I will not send green soldiers out into what ambushed and killed seasoned knights."
Dream bit his tongue. Ready to take a breath and let his knight lead the way he saw fit to. Right up until the moment he heard a woman scream from the gate. Plain clothes and tears streaking down her face as she ran for one of the wagons. As she ran for the body that was being carried down to settle in the grass for the counts and identification of the dead. Dream listened to her scream again. He watched her collapse. How her skirt stained in the grass and she clutched to the body.
He heard her cry for her son.
Another knight came to her side to place a hand on her shoulder. He couldn’t make out what was being said but he saw the way her head jerked toward the wagon. How two medics carried down another body to lay beside her. How her sobs and screams turned louder, more violent.
Sam barely breathed beside him.
“Her husband and her son. Both killed in this attack. A family of knights. They were good, honorable, He asked me to send his son to him when he was knighted so that he could protect him.”
Instead it cost the both of them.
They needed that road clear and both of them knew it.
“Our soldiers need supplies and reenforcements sooner than it will take to use the other roads.”
“Dream—”
“The attack worked because it was an ambush. We know that the East is there. The knights would be ready for it. They could fight it. It wouldn’t be a slaughter and we can take back what’s—”
“Enough.”
“Sam, listen to me—”
He had not expected for his knight to turn on him. Sharp and fast and Dream felt his breath catch in his lungs. He had to force his body to still after he took a step back without meaning to. His heart pushing blood faster through his veins like it was preparing for him to need to run.
“Is that what you would have me do? Send squires to their deaths knowingly and willingly? Is that what you think I’m doing that you have to fight me on this?”
“No—”
“Shut up.”
The order came so quickly it snapped his jaw shut behind his mask. Dream forced himself not to flinch from the tone. He forced himself to see Sam standing in front of him and not his father.
“I am doing everything I can think of to get our soldiers home alive. I am doing everything I can to stop what you are seeing. To stop parents from burying more of their children or more of their lovers. To stop children from burying their parents. I am doing everything, Dream. I am trying.”
All he could do was nod. He didn’t know if he was allowed to speak.
“Do you think I want our knights to die?”
He shook his head. Sam towered over him.
“Answer me.”
“No Sir.”
“Do you think I don’t know how war works?”
“No Sir.”
“I am not redirecting knights in the war. I am sending guards from the palace, fresh and ready, to handle that road and clear it. I am doing what I can to protect our knights and the people who are ready for the war. Palace guards can handle this fight, knights are not needed. If you want squires on the Front Lines so bad then you can join them for all I care and see the Fronts on the road. You’ll get killed, Dream. You’ll see that I’m right.”
“Sam—”
“Not another word. They will leave to clear the road at first light tomorrow morning.”
He left but Dream stood with his mind reeling. His lungs tight in his chest and refusing to accept the air he tried to give them. The panic that hammered in his chest like a caged bird trying to escape. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to make of what Sam had said.
Other than the fact that it sounded like an order.
Other than the fact that it felt like his knight was sending him away to die.
Dream shook his head. One breath after another and tapping his fingers to his palm and thumb to count them as he made his way to the barracks. He didn’t know how to pack for a war but he’d seen enough of the others leaving over the months that he thought he could put it together. He would still be in squire armor but he would at least put his training plate on. It wasn’t as much as the full knight armor was but some would be better than none if he was heading to a fight that they knew would be waiting for them.
If they didn’t take the East off this road then they would make their way to the capital and the palace and that threat couldn’t be allowed to get close.
He would do his duty. He would protect his royals.
He would follow his knight’s orders.
Dream let himself just focus on that.
He barely slept. Pacing around his room in the barracks and debating on going to his Prince to tell him where he would be going and that he would not be at the palace to stand with him for the evening dancing lessons they were still forced to go to. He remembered how George had complained about them. How he’d said they were boring and annoying and how he hated dancing with people who were so much larger than him. He’d offered to join his Prince and sure enough George had made the excuse that one day Dream would be his Lead and he would need to know how to dance like a proper person. They practiced with each other. Learning their steps and how to move with one another. They laughed, despite both of them not being fond of the lessons themselves.
In the end, he wrote a note. Detailing to him that he was given his first command from his knight and that he would work to make him proud. That he would be back as soon as they completed their work.
It was while writing that line that he hesitated and wondered if Sam wanted him to go to the Front when everything was said and done on the road. If his knight wanted him to truly see the war if the road was not enough. He wondered if he was meant to wait for an order to return rather than the completion of his task.
He gathered his things. He tried to find Sam to ask.
He couldn’t.
But in the yard there were guards gathering in armor. A wagon full of supplies to grant to the soldiers they would meet on the other side of the road. A wagon empty that would be filled with wounded to return to the palace on their return home. It would be a slow march but they could reach the Front within a day if they kept their schedule tight. The East was close to the border. The East was their most dangerous threat.
Dream caught sight of the captain’s cloak and made his way over to the man.
“Sir?”
He stopped and froze the moment he saw him.
“Squire Dream? Why are you out here?”
“I was given orders to join you, Sir.”
His sword hung tight on his belt.
“I was wondering if my knight gave you my further orders? I don’t know if I’m meant to join the Front when we arrive or make way back with you when we’re done. I tried to find him but he wasn’t in his room and he’s not out here.”
The man stared at him as if he’d grown a second head.
“You’re only a squire.”
Dream nodded.
“I know, Sir.”
“Sir Sam is sending you to fight?”
He nodded again.
“Yes, Sir. He gave me my orders yesterday. I’ve made ready for it. If you need to check—”
“No.” he was looking around the yard like he thought Sam might be waiting to laugh about some joke being pulled. “No, son, that’s alright.”
The man’s hand came to rest on his shoulder as he scanned the unit that would be heading out for this mission.
“Jayce!” One of the guards turned immediately. “Get over here, I’ve got a job for you.”
Dream eyed the guard as he came closer. He didn’t look all that old. He looked more like he was Boomer’s age. The thought of how similar he looked to his dead brother tugged something sharp in his chest.
“Young Dream here is going to be joining us. Orders from the Lead, apparently.” He saw the way the guard’s, Jayce, eyes widened. “I need you to keep an eye on him as we go through everything out there.”
“Yes Sir.”
“I’m trained—”
“Yes,” the captain cut him off, “but you are still a squire. Not just any squire either. You are the Prince’s Hand and I’ll be damned if I let anything happen to you.”
“But my orders—”
“I haven’t heard anything for Sir Sam to change your route from ours. I say that means you come home with us and if he disagrees then he can take that up with me.”
All he could do was nod. It felt wrong, stiff, but he couldn’t argue with someone that outranked him when he was trying to make a good impression and he had nothing more he could add for this. George would find the note if he went looking for him. He would know from Dream’s words as well as Sam’s. He was following orders by being here but he couldn’t shake the feeling that settled in his gut that something was wrong. That he was going to get in trouble. That Sam was going to be mad at him.
He didn’t want his knight to be mad at him.
He didn’t want to fail the only father who ever loved him.
He believed Sam loved him.
Dream followed Jayce to go through the rest of the checks. They grouped together as a unit to follow the captain when he gave the command to start their walk as the sky turned a rich shade of pink behind the walls of the palace. Dream couldn’t help but look back over it as they walked. He tried to memorize it. The place that had been his home for the last years. The place that had taught him that he could be something more than the waste of space his father called him. He could make a difference.
He was making a difference here.
Even when they walked for hours without finding sight of the enemy.
Even as the sun climbed higher in the sky.
As Jayce chatted with him and told him stories about the captain that he was sure the man didn’t know were being shared.
“He’s like a dad to the unit. It’s what we all call him, anyway.”
He looked about the same age as Sam. Part of him wondered if they had enlisted at the same time. If it was only the matter of Sam passing the trails and the captain failing them. If it was something as simple as what his original plan had been for him and Sapnap. If he might have been like the captain in another life.
“Hey,” Jayce nudged against his shoulder. He was about a foot shorter than the man. Still small for his age despite all the work he’d done to try to grow. “If your having issues with your knight, the captain’ll protect you.”
Dream’s eyes went wide beneath the mask.
“That’s not—”
“Squires don’t get sent out to fight. Even recon. They stay home in the palace where it’s safe. He said he’d guard you, he meant it. We might be guards but we look out for knights. The only difference between any of us is a trial.”
He forced his head to look forward again. He still didn’t see anything.
“He’s sending me to teach me. I kept asking about the war.”
“You teach in a library, kid, not in a warzone.”
“I told him we should send new knights to fill the gaps in the lines, not move the Fronts.”
Jayce was quiet for a moment. Head tipped back like he was thinking about things. It was like talking to Boomer again even though he knew his brother was gone.
“We’re eight months in and still basically in a stalemate. It sounds risky but it couldn’t hurt to try.”
“He sent me here to prove it. I can’t let him down.”
Jayce stared at him for a moment.
“Can I touch you?”
He almost stopped walking. The question caught him off guard on how to respond. The mask tipped forward to give his response before the man was grabbing him and yanking him sideways into a half hug.
“You’re not letting anybody down. Don’t let Captain hear you. He might just petition the crowns to adopt you regardless if you’re an orphan or not.”
It almost made him want to laugh. He felt comfortable even though he barely knew these people. The unit behaved like a family. Like he and his squire brothers had been. Like he and Sam had been. Before grief came and destroyed it. Before grief destroyed everything he loved.
He was looking toward the captain. That was the only reason that he caught it. Stiffening like a board under Jayce’s arm and reaching for his sword at his hip.
“Dream?”
“Something’s wrong.”
The guard turned his head on a swivel immediately. He reached for his sword. He was trusting him.
“Where?”
“Movement in the shadows. I thought—”
“Captain!”
In the same moments Jayce called out, the shadows of the treeline moved. Running for them quick and dangerous and Dream felt his heart catch in his throat. He recognized the dark green of the East and the emblem emblazoned on their banners.
The captain called out orders and Dream hurried to follow them. Running beneath the blades before the East could recognize that there was a squire among their enemies. He saw an archer hanging back. He saw the armor piercing tip. If one of them were shot with that it would kill them. No one else was moving for them.
He had to do something.
Every lap that Sam had made him run. Every obstacle course that George had made him perform to prove that he deserved to hold his place. Every agility training he’d undergone to make use of his size. All of it came to a head in this moment. Weaving around the fighting until he broke free of the crowd as the archer took their aim. The moment the enemy saw him. The way the bow angled to adjust aim to target him.
Dream was faster. Changing his footing and jumping sideways before the archer could adjust properly. His sword was in his hand. He’d done so many hours of training that the grip felt forged purely to his hand. He knew how to angle the tip. He knew how to spot the seam of armor.
He was closer to the ground. He had better odds to slip upward between the plates.
He jumped again. He made the archer change their footing. His sword was ready.
A final lunge and he was beneath the bow. His sword darting up and Dream felt it catch. He pushed. It was stuck. He pushed it harder.
His body weight behind it. The momentum he had carrying him forward to shove into the blade until a wet popping noise reached his ears and his sword slid in easier.
He heard a gasp. Gurgling and choking and when Dream looked up he saw blood bubbling from the archer’s mouth. The bow was falling to the ground. The body going to follow soon after.
He couldn’t get his sword out.
He’d just killed someone.
Their eyes were still open. They’d been staring at him. They were staring at the sky now.
Dream wondered if they could see it.
There was still fighting behind him. This wasn’t done. But he yanked harder on his sword and it wouldn’t come out. He was stuck without a weapon. His dagger was in his pack in the wagon. He was stupid. He was useless.
“Captain!”
Dream whirled and found the captain dropping to a knee. His sword clattered away from him and blood dripping to the ground where his arm was hanging limp at his side. He was hurt. There was an Easterner in front of him. Sword up.
The others were too far. They weren't fast enough.
Dream was.
There was a dagger on the East’s belt. Dream charged forward before he could think further. Pushing his legs as fast as he could go and making a grab for the dagger. He pushed at the man to knock him off balance. His captain’s eyes going wide the moment he saw him but Dream held the dagger tight. It wasn’t the best of odds but he could count on the man being off guard. He could do this.
He lunged. Using his legs to cling to the enemy’s chest like he would do with Zach when they played their games of war before the real one had begun.
He shoved the dagger into the man’s throat.
Blood sprayed at him. It was hot. The mask kept it from getting in his face but he had to swallow the sick that wanted to come up at knowing what he’d done.
He watched the light leave the man’s eyes.
The body fell on top of him.
The captain grabbed his arm and pulled him out. Moving over to his sword and lifting it with his non-dominant arm.
“That was reckless.”
“I had to save you.”
He turned. The last of the Easterners were falling. All of their unit were standing. Jayce was breathing hard, there was blood streaking his face from a cut in his cheek. Dream looked at all of them and couldn’t help but smile.
They’d done it.
They’d actually done it.
“Report!”
He stayed under the captain’s hand as the others gathered around. They were all standing. They were all moving. They were all breathing. All alive. He caught Jayce grinning wide when he saw the captain’s hand on his shoulder. Dream felt himself smile under the mask.
“Injuries?”
They listed them off. Minor, surface and flesh wounds for most of them. A vial of potion would do it for the captain’s arm permitted they got to the Fronts on their initial projections. They just had to keep their march and clear the rest of the road and they would be fine. They would be safe. They gathered the bodies. Pulling them off to the side to not obstruct and so that the East would know they were handled with care when they came to collect them.
They would collect them. That or the bodies would need brought to the Front. The East cared about bodies. It was why they thought they were stringing Central’s corpses for messages. To get their point across even though none of them could parse out what their message was.
“Good job, Dream.”
He’d killed two people. He hadn’t had a choice.
Every time he blinked he saw their eyes staring up at a sky they couldn’t see.
“We should move.”
They laughed more on their walk. Following the lead of their captain and smiling at the jokes they all called out to one another. It was a nice day. The sun high over their heads and warm. The breeze just cool enough to ease them as they walked.
Their captain called for a rest. Long enough to ease the horses and everyone to drink and catch their breaths for a bit. Most of them laid down in the middle of the road to enjoy the down time.
Dream stood still until the captain beckoned him over. He followed without the unease that had begun settling in him when he went towards his knight. The captain crouched down to look up at him.
“How are you holding up?”
“I wasn’t hurt.”
“You killed people in that fight.”
His hands curled into fists at his sides.
“I did what I had to do.” The words he’d practiced. “I had to, right?”
Something soft and broken flooded the captain’s eyes.
“Aye, you saved my life. Maybe even all of ours. It was either kill them or they’d kill you. You had no other choice. That is war.”
He nodded again when his mouth felt too dry to speak.
“If nothing else, I am proud of you for how well you did. When we get home I’ll tell your knight and our royals what a fine job you did. You should be proud of yourself.”
He wasn’t sure how to be proud of taking a life. He—
“Not of killing. Of saving. They often happen together but they are different. Remember who you saved as much as those who you finished. For safety to exist there has to be a threat.”
“That’s stupid.”
“I agree. But it’s how the world works.” The captain grinned at him. He understood why the others called him dad. “You remind me of my son. Call it my soft spot. There’s a tart in my bag I brought from home. Do you want to share some with me?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He heard the man laugh.
“You don’t have to call me Sir, I’m just a guard.”
“You’re a Sir to me.”
“I appreciate it, Son.” He patted on his shoulder as he made to stand. “I hope you like Sweetberry—”
Dream heard a scream through the air. A sound he’d only heard once in the training grounds when they were shown what different weapons looked like so they could be wary as they grew.
In less than a second Dream was watching the captain jerk.
He looked down and Dream followed his eyes to the arrow head sticking out of his chest. The armor piercer arrow that had lodged from behind straight through him.
Dream couldn’t move. His feet frozen to the floor as his lungs refused to find any air to breathe. He heard the choked gag and looked up. Blood bubbled at the captain’s lips. His eyes were pained. They were dimming. They were dimming in the same way that—
“Captain!”
Jayce was moving. Dream saw Eastern archers again. There were more of them. The shadows of the trees were surging and more Easterners than they’d seen before were charging at them.
Dream barely felt his collar get grabbed. Jayce yanking him back and covering him as more arrows came raining down on them. They were surrounded fast. They were in danger.
There were screams.
Human screams.
The captain’s cloak was staining red.
Central’s blue wasn’t meant to be red.
“Move!”
The world blurred around him. His heart slamming into his chest. His sword in his hand.
Sam taught him to fight. He didn’t want to let him down.
He was given a unit. He didn’t want to let them down.
Dream ran. Sword in hand. His lungs burning, heart aching, legs screaming. He was the squire of the Lead. He was the Hand of the Prince. He was a knight.
He would do his duty.
He had to.
Even when the East felt like it was swallowing them. Even when he watched his unit beginning to fall. One by one. All of them being dragged down. Screaming. Beatings.
Until he was grabbed.
Until he was slamming onto his back and the air was driven from his lungs with so much force he couldn’t think. His sword was kicked out of his hands. Eastern knights were over him in a circle. He couldn’t get out. He didn’t have a weapon.
One of them kept their boot on his chest.
“A squire,” they sneered, “what a disgrace.”
He heard crying. Choked screams and when the knights around him shifted he saw Jayce held down a dozen feet away. His armor was pulled. A knight had a blade over his chest. He looked like he’d been beaten already.
His heart raced when he recognized the pattern. He tried to thrash. He tried to escape.
“Now now little squire.”
A hand settled over the top of his mask. They weren’t taking it. They were holding him down. Holding him still.
“Your crowns need to learn. They sent you out here. You’re all blind to what they’ve done. Soldiers die, knights die. The world will know you, little squire.”
He wanted to go home.
“The East will remember you.”
He wanted his dad.
“When the war ends you’ll not have died for nothing.”
He wanted this to stop.
“Megs, put him to sleep. He shouldn’t feel this and I’m not beating a kid.”
He thrashed again. He could see the posts being set up. He saw one of his unit being dragged over to it. The knight closest to him looked down at him.
“You won’t feel a thing.”
Another pulled off his mask. She smiled at him.
“I’m sorry you saw what you did here. You won’t have to see anything else.”
She was holding a blindfold. He wanted to scream but no sound came out.
“Sleep well, little squire. May the Stars protect you.”
Dream failed to report for morning training and Sam willed himself not to storm to the barracks and shout at the boy for abandoning his duty. Instead, he turned to his tent and set to breathe and think through things logically. Dream hadn’t been staying in the barracks half the time because he would go spend the night with the Prince. It was entirely likely that the young royal had pulled him off to some sort of activity rather than his training.
It wouldn’t be the first time and he was certain that it wouldn’t be the last. If it gave him some free time to work on catching up on reports then that would serve him better. He wouldn’t mind. Even though he knew he would need to bring it up to Ethan and Genevieve later tonight when he went to give his report to them. Dream needed to be at his training if he was going to act properly in his role later in life. He would need the skills and the ability to fight to be ready at George’s hand when it came to what trouble they would get into as adults. He didn’t have any doubts that they would keep getting themselves into danger no matter how old the both of them grew.
He made his rounds through the day. Checking every now and then to see if anyone had seen the young Prince or his wayward squire. Dream had run off with George in the past but he would check in with him at some point in the day with the reasoning ready on his lips. He hadn’t had the chance to talk to his squire after their conversation in the yard yesterday. He’d been stressed and busy with the work of bringing in bodies. The duty of traveling around the city and giving notice to the families who hadn’t already seen and writing the letters to the ones that lived in other areas of the Kingdom so that he could dispatch them with their Queen and her messengers.
He read more reports from the Fronts, the danger they were in. One that was speaking of the East bearing down on them harder and a weak point they’d noticed. They were asking for more soldiers to strengthen their lines to hold their position.
He didn’t know if there were people to spare.
He might be forced to send new knights into blood baths as much as it broke his heart.
Noon came and went without sign of Dream. No one had mentioned anything of his squire getting into trouble either. He wondered if George was having a bad day and making Dream run himself ragged in some hidden part of the palace. It wasn’t like the place was using every hall at once. It was easy to find empty wings at any given time and he didn’t doubt that the two of them could raise hell if they were given the chance.
They would turn up eventually. He would just need to wait.
The palace cooks began preparing for dinner. He could hear them working and the conversation as he walked through the halls to get to his office. Sitting down and sighing as he bent forward in his chair. Rubbing his hands over his face didn’t feel to accomplish the job he wanted to achieve. He was exhausted but there was no time to rest with everything that was going on. He and Ethan were both feeling the effects of the fighting but they would manage. If he could help his King then that was what he was going to do.
He was trying to make his plan for the meeting they would have later. There were more losses that were going to happen if they didn’t adjust their plan. Morale on the Front was failing and he didn’t want to sen his King out into a fight but the longer time went on the more he worried that was going to end up being their only option. The headache forming behind his eyes refused to dull even as he rubbed at it.
Still, he needed to work. He had a job that had to be done.
It was just that when he turned back to the desk to set to it, the door nearly flung from its hinges. He jumped to his feet ready for a threat only to come face to face with his King. Ethan looked more furious than he’d seen him in months. Genevieve stood behind him in the doorway, her own expression grim and calculating but it was George that caught his attention. Held in his mother’s grip and looking half terrified.
“What—”
“What is the meaning of this.”
Ethan nearly growled the words. Fury lining every inch of him as he stared him down and thrust a piece of paper to his chest.
“What have you done.”
He wanted to ask what his royal was talking about but the fury on his face and in his voice told him that would only make this worse. The sight of his Prince without his wayward squire sent alarms blaring through his head as he turned the paper over to read it.
As the words stared at him like a dagger cutting into his heart.
“Explain yourself. Now, Sam.”
“I didn’t send him away.”
“That letter says otherwise.”
He was shaking his head. Looking at his royals and begging them to believe him.
“I need to go get him. I need—”
“What did you do.”
Not a question. A demand.
“We argued yesterday. About the wagons and— I told him if he saw a war he would understand. I thought he knew that was ridiculous. I didn’t send him out there. I didn’t know—”
“He has been gone all day. Where did you think he was?!”
“I thought he was with George.”
His heart was going to crush itself. The tightness spreading deeper and deeper into his chest the longer he stood there. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t do this.
“I need to get him. He’s going to get killed. He’s going to—”
Ethan’s hand gripped the back of his neck. He thought for a moment that his King was going to kill him before he was being forced forward to bend.
“Breathe. You’re no use to Dream dead. Gen, Sam and I are going out. Can you gather a team to go with us?”
“How many?”
“Four should be fine. We’ll need a wagon. We leave within the hour.”
An hour was too long. Dream might be dead.
“Sam, listen to me.”
He tried to look up to his royal only to find Ethan kneeling in front of him. One look to the doorway and the other two were gone.
“I didn’t send him. I didn’t order him away. I didn’t know—”
“I know.”
“I can’t bury another son.”
“I know.” Ethan squeezed the back of his neck. “That’s why I need you to stand up and come with me and we can get him home. Okay?”
He was shaking. His heart was slamming against his ribs.
Dream had thought that was an order.
Dream had thought he was sending him away like that.
Dream had thought he meant that little.
Dream thought he would send him away to die.
“Hey! Breathe. I need you with me, Sam. Your son needs you.”
“He thought—”
“He’s Dream. He thought he needed to work himself to death the moment he could hold a sword. We can lecture his self worth when he’s home. We need to leave.”
A day’s ride, if things went well then they would nearly be to the Front by now.
Sam couldn’t focus. Not on the preparations and not on the start of the travel. He barely saw Ponk was among the set of them that was leaving for this trip. His lungs refused to listen to him on what they were meant to do. They took horses, medical, the wagon would slow them down but he and Ethan would ride ahead. They would make sure the road was clear. They were both skilled enough to handle a fight long enough for the others to get to them if they needed to.
All he could focus on was the conversation he’d had with Dream. What he’d missed. How he could have changed the wording. How he had let it get to the point that Dream believed that was an order and not a figure of speech.
The sun clung to the edges of the horizon when they saw a line of bodies on the side of the road. Sam’s heart caught in his throat as he and his King made way to check them.
Dead. Bugs already crawling over them and trying to eat them.
Eastern armor. Not Central.
“They did it.”
The ambush hadn’t been large, just unexpected on a road weary and wounded set of knights and soldiers. They had been successful for that and that alone. There were no Central bodies waiting to be collected.
Dream had been right. Dream was still only a squire.
It was the opposite of a knight but he hoped Dream had survived by hiding through the fight. He hoped his son had run to safety. He hoped that he was safe and everything that a squire should be.
It was his fault that there was any question to begin with.
“Sam?”
He turned to his King. His friend looked at him like he was searching for something.
“We should keep going. Our presence may fix the morale issue when we make it to camp. I’m not keen to travel through the whole night if we do not need to.”
There were shadows beneath his eyes.
He tried to ease his heart as they resumed their travel but he couldn’t shake the worry in him that something was still wrong. He wasn’t sure it was going to vanish until he had his son in his arms again. Until he could hold Dream and assure himself that he was alright and that it was well and truly over. Until they were home and he knew that his squire was sound and protected again in the palace walls.
The moon climbed above them. The heat of the day finally breaking away to something somewhat cooler. The breeze no longer heated by the sun and actually turning the temperature lower for them all.
The closer they got to the camp the more Sam allowed himself to think of what he would say when he found his squire. How he would assure him that he was wanted and cared for and that he would never send him away. How he would get it through his boy’s skull that he was wanted.
“Sam.”
He looked up to the road. Dark splotches soaking through it where it should just be dirt the same as they’d been riding on for hours.
Blood.
No row of bodies on the side of the road.
He saw a wagon. A thin column of smoke that was almost invisible hanging above it. Charred supplies were sitting inside.
He saw posts sticking up out of the ground.
“No.”
Sam barely thought before he was jumping from his horse and running. Ethan called out after him but he didn’t process the words. There were three posts standing. There was a body propped sitting between them and the posts.
He recognized the captain’s cloak the closer he got. Despite being soaked in blood, he still reached for a pulse.
“I’m sorry, Casey.”
They’d enlisted together. They’d met going through their trials. Casey had made it the whole way to the final one before he’d become a guard instead of a knight. The two of them had stayed close. Both spending their time in the palace and both of them watching out for the other when they could.
It was why he’d chosen him to lead this mission. He trusted his work. He trusted his diligence. He knew there wouldn’t be any careless acts of heroism.
He had a wife and son at home. He would try to go home.
“I’m so sorry.”
This was the unit he’d sent Dream with. There were more than four total of them. He didn’t see other bodies laying on the ground. Dream might have run like he hoped. He could be hiding in the woods. It would make it harder to find him but if it meant he survived his massacre then he wasn’t going to punish his boy.
“It’s clear as far as I can see.” Ethan reached his side again. “Is he?”
“Dead.”
Their backup was arriving. They would see and Ponk would handle getting the body into the wagon.
“Sam…”
“If Dream ran I’ll look for him alone. You get these soldiers home, I’ll find my son.”
“Ordering your King?”
“Asking my friend.”
Ethan nodded to him. The both of them stepping closer toward the posts with a heavy feeling in their hearts. If the East strung bodies up they were gone. There was no point in rushing for the ones that were sure to be dead. He knew some of their names because of Casey talking about them. How this unit liked to behave the same way his squires did. They called themselves a family.
He wondered what Dream had thought when he joined them. What they thought when he ran.
Until he was coming closer and realized the body hung on the middle post was much smaller than the ones on either side. Until he saw the difference in armor. Until he saw the white smiling mask strapped to the post above his head.
“Creation help us.”
Ethan whispered it the same moment Sam recognized what he was seeing. Before his legs were running forward again with panic seizing at his heart to get to the post.
To get to Dream.
Ropes twisted around him so tightly they were digging into his flesh. Half of his armor laid stripped under his feet where he hung on the post. His gambeson undone and hanging open and his tunic beneath it cut down the middle.
Blood streaked down his chest. He was cut. He was carved. Like others were before.
Sam read the word “Excuse” across his chest.
There was rope around his neck. His head tipped backwards unlike the other two hanging beside him hanging forward. The blindfold knotted around his eyes kept him blocked.
His skin was red even beyond the blood. Burned from the sun and Sam felt sick at the realization that it meant he’d been hung like this during the hottest hours of the day. He’d been at the palace without a thought that anything was wrong and his son had been dying. His son was being murdered.
Because of him.
He couldn’t breathe.
He couldn’t think.
He could only reach forward to his boy despite not knowing where to touch him. Unlike the ones on his sides, Dream did not look beaten. If he believed the East had any honor then he would think it was kindness they offered to Dream for his age. If they had any honor they would have never laid their hands on him at all.
“Oh Dream…”
He needed to get him down. He couldn’t leave him like this. He needed to get him home.
He would lay him beside his brother.
He knew Dream’s file. He knew he didn’t have anyone to return his body to. Dream called them his family. Sam would bury him with them.
He worked the knot for the rope around his neck. He couldn’t stomach the thought of holding a blade up to him like this when he didn’t know if his body was stiff or if his son would fall without the ropes holding him in place. He didn’t want to take the chance of cutting him more than the East had already done to him.
The rope pulled away and Dream’s head shifted. On instinct he reached to support him. Cupping the side of his head and lifting to support it back to something that would be more comfortable even thought Dream wouldn’t be able to feel it. He was supporting his neck. His fingers pressed beside his throat only for a moment but it was long enough.
He felt a thump.
Sam went still and adjusted his hold to properly check. His breath stuck in his chest with a hope that he refused to let himself truly feel. He was terrified that the truth was going to crush him but—
Thump.
“Ethan!”
His friend was with him in seconds.
“What is it?”
“He’s alive.”
“What?”
“I can feel his heart.” He was trying not to shake. He might hurt his son. “He’s alive. He’s alive, he needs help.” He couldn’t move. “I can’t get him down alone.” Dream might fall. “I—”
“Hold onto him.”
He did not need to be told twice to obey his King’s order. He clung to Dream’s body while Ethan cut away at the ropes. Working painstakingly to get him down and bit by bit he felt his son’s meager weight falling into him. Until he was finally free and Sam was backing away from the posts and getting Dream to the ground so he could check him over.
Ethan checked the other bodies.
He came back without luck.
“He’s the only survivor.”
Sam pulled the blindfold from his head. Dream’s eyes were open just a crack. Dim and unseeing and he struggled to keep his composure as he cupped his face and worked to bring him around to them.
“Dream? Dreamie, I need you to look at me.”
His chest was barely moving. They needed help.
No sooner did the thought cross his mind than Ponk was arriving at their sides. His partner in nearly everything setting his supplies beside them and taking his own assessment of his boy.
“Fucking butchers,” he muttered while checking his chest.
“He won’t wake up. Ponk, why won’t he wake up?”
There was bruising around his neck where the rope had bound him. Ponk took a look to the others and how they were hung in the ropes.
“He was suffocating. He got his head back. That’s probably the only reason he’s alive. He couldn’t breathe for who knows how long. He might not wake up.”
Ponk was never one to sugarcoat.
“Keep trying. I need to clean these wounds.”
Sam pulled his attention away from the burned glistening flesh back to the dull green eyes and overly flushed face.
“Dreamie, I need you to hear me.”
He was terrified. They might still have been too late. He might just get to hold him as he died.
“Dad’s here now.”
Would Dream still even want him as a dad?
“I’m here, you’re safe, it’s okay.”
Ponk rubbed at his wounds. Dream’s face scrunched in the way it did when he was in pain. Sam held him still.
“It’s alright. It’s safe, it’s Ponk. We’re trying to help you. I just need you to wake up.”
Dream was trying. His struggle somehow made things worse.
“Sam, this is going to hurt him. Keep him still.”
Ponk didn’t give him time to get ready before he was pouring potion into the wounds over his chest. Dream went rigid the moment it made contact. His body thrashing to try to get away with energy that he hadn’t realized his boy was holding onto.
He held him as best as he could. Using his body to shelter his head so he could use his arms to pin Dream’s to his sides. Even when his son turned still and was shuddering to breathe beneath him. It was more than what he’d done before. Part of him wondered if it was because of the potion. He’d seen it before in the infirmary, that the potions would give boosts of energy to the person they were used on before they would crash again. He wondered if there was a limited amount of time before he would lose his son to this.
“Dad?...”
Dream’s voice croaked barely loud enough to hear but it was enough to make Sam pull away to look at him.
To see green eyes blinking owlishly at him. Clear enough to see the pain and confusion settled inside. His hands once again found his son’s face.
“I’m here. I’m right here. It’s okay now. You’re safe now.”
Tears welled in his son’s eyes.
“I failed.”
Sam’s heart turned to dust.
“No, no you didn’t. You were never meant to be out here. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“But—” Dream choked on nothing. “But you sa— said I—”
He was already shaking his head.
“No, Dreamie. I didn’t mean it like that. I never would send you away. Okay? Never. I’m so sorry you thought that’s what I meant.”
His boy was still looking at him with tears trickling from his eyes and streaking into his hair.
“I tried to fight. Captain said I saved them in the first— first fight.”
“You did such a good job.”
“I couldn’t save them the second time—”
“It’s not your fault. It’s okay. It’s okay, you’re alive that’s all that matters.”
“I failed you.” He hiccuped. “I didn’t want to fail you.”
“You could never fail me, Dream. Never.”
He could see his son losing strength. The distance that was beginning to take shade in his eyes again. The lack of movement in the rest of his body.
“Dream?”
He worked his mouth like he wanted to talk but no sound came out. His eyes were closing again.
“Dreamie, what is it?”
Nothing.
“Ponk?”
He couldn’t keep the fear from his voice.
“It’s the potions. We need to get him home. He needs to rest.”
“Can he make it to the camp and then back?”
Sam’s head snapped up to his King so fast he felt something crack in his neck.
“Ethan?”
“There are more medical supplies in the camp and we can still accomplish the mission they had set out to do. They will not die in vain.”
He wanted to sob. He wanted to curse. Moving Dream anything more than necessary was a risk and a danger that could steal his life away from the world and he did not want to chance that. In the same breath, he knew that Ethan was right.
He could not disobey his King.
“Assuming he doesn’t get worse, he should make it.”
“Ponk.”
His partner looked at him like he was half trying to make him be quiet. Sam didn’t listen.
“What are the odds he gets worse?”
“High.”
“No.” He turned back to his King. “We can’t.”
“He’s strong.”
“He’s just a child.”
“He can make it, Sam.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No. But I know that he has broken every odd before. And seconds after Ponk said he may not wake up he spoke to you. He is stubborn, like his knight. And we will be with him every moment.”
He hated this.
“Ponk, do you think he can make it.”
“I’m not an optimist—”
“That’s why I’m asking you. Can he make it?”
Silence felt too heavy for his heart in the moment.
“I think so. That fever didn’t kill him in the past. This won’t kill him now.”
War stopped for no one.
War cared nothing for grief or innocence.
War killed families.
It somehow spared this part of his.
“Okay.”
Ethan nodded. Turning to the others and giving them the order to gather the bodies. To get them ready to move again. To have them as safe as possible.
The ones who did this could still be on this road. They could be lying in wait. They could not let their guards down. They had to be careful. They had to ensure the camp was not taken out from behind. They could all still die.
Dream could still die.
Sam pulled his son into his arms. Cradling him like he was still the sick little eight year old he’d been when he first came to the palace.
“I’m here.” He brushed the bangs from Dream’s face and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Dad’s right here.”
Dream tucked closer. Consciously or not, he didn’t know. All the same, he held him closer. Safe.
As long as he kept him safe.
That was all that mattered.
That was enough.
He pressed his fingers to the side of Dream’s throat. He felt his pulse. How strongly it beat.
It was always enough.