Chapter Text
“Follow me, darling, I won’t hurt you” The white-haired lady reached out her hand for the dirty-blonde male to take.
Dream hesitated. I’m dreaming again, aren’t I? This isn’t real, it hasn’t been real for the past 3 years.
The boy glanced at the landscape around the two. They were surrounded by an endless aura of bright white stars floating in the empty space with an intense silence, and it was unclear what the boy standing on. Dream seemed to be standing on nothing but air, while the lady appeared to be held by a nonexistent wind- her dainty beige dress even flowing behind her.
Dream knew what was going to happen. It was inevitable, it happened every single time he dreamt of this scenario. Which was every. Single. Night.
The procedure, although used to it, broke his heart nearly every single time. He missed his mother so much. The white-haired lady floating before him, the hero to all of his stories, and the only source of happiness in his restrained world. His Mother.
Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.
Dream leaned forward and grasped his hand in the fragile woman’s palm before him. His mother shattered into a million shards of glass.
The prince woke up in a cold sweat. Should be used to this by now, I can’t let this get to me every time.
Weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak. The same voice played in his head.
The sound of a tingling bell shook him awake a second time.
A teenage girl with auburn-colored hair dressed in a maid uniform peeked around the massive, white paneled quartz doors, embellished with gold studs.
“Your highness?” A soft voice called. “Prince Dream? Your father requests your presence for The Draft in an hour. I am sure you are aware?”
Dream forced his eyes open. “Thank you, Millane. I’ll summon you when I am ready to get dressed.” The maid dipped her head and shuffled back into the vast hallway to finish any morning chores that were left undone.
The dirty-blonde prince still in bed, glanced to his left. Sitting on his nightstand, was a wooden alarm clock along with his planner containing his daily priorities written in Millane’s handwriting.
Get Dressed
Meet With The King To Discuss Plans For The Draft
Broadcast Draft Details On The Radio
Lunch
Select 10 Citizens For The Draft
Dinner
Send Personal Greeting Letters For The Selected
Bed
Dream checked the priority list again. He checked it a third time. The Draft? It’s Today? If Dream wasn’t awake before, he was certainly awake now.
Whenever a prince turned 18 years of age, they were required to host a draft allowing them to find love out of 10 randomly selected citizens. There were never any princess drafts- all the princesses were sent to nearby countries to be married into other royal families to protect the royal alliances.
Ever since the King informed Dream of this tradition when he was 10 years old, he was dreading this event for his entire life. And now, he couldn’t try and avoid it anymore.
Inhaling his annoyance, Dream snapped back into reality. He had turned 18 last month. This was his responsibility as the prince of Aveena, and no one could host The Draft better than him.
Dream quickly hopped off his bed and called for Millane. The maid showed up within seconds and began to take out his freshly laundered clothes for the day.
The outfit consisted of a white blouse, a dark green jacket made of jacquard fabric, and artificial fur around the collar. The sleeves only went down to the middle of his arm, and everything was paired with a set of ordinary black pants. Chosen by the prince himself, the black spiked crown embellished with shimmering emeralds was placed atop his head.
Glancing in the mirror a few times admiring his reflection, Dream took a deep breath and headed to the King’s office to discuss the plans for The Draft. Like Dream, his father had his own draft too. A part of him hoped that the king would let him skip his draft, and let him choose his own love out in the world just like everyone else.
However, Dream knew there was no such chance of that happening. Princes have been getting married this way for centuries. It was better for Dream to just face his fears and get The Draft over with.
As a child, Dream thought The Draft was a foolish idea. As an adult, he still thought The Draft was a pointless concept. After all, what were the chances of picking 10 people that would even get along with the prince?
Knock, knock, knock
Dream rapped the doors to his father’s study. Within seconds, the massive doors spread open to reveal the king dressed in his formal wear, eyebrows furrowed while supposedly writing a letter.
The king looked up.
“Father, you wanted to see me?” Dream dipped his head.
“Yes. I did. Stand up, son.”
Dream stood up.
“Now, as I’m sure you’re aware, The Draft is coming up. You have turned the age of 18 last month, and it is custom for every prince of age to host their own draft. The council has sent out notice letters to inform families to send young women in their families between the ages of 16-18 to participate in the drawing of The Draft. The deadline was yesterday at noon, and we must attend the drawing which is taking place in exactly 45 minutes.”
The King heaved himself off his armchair and held out his arm for the prince to take. Dream approached his father and took his arm, slipping his elbow between his father’s.