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bookishbarnowl · 4 years ago

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A Night Masked With Changes: Chapter 1

Clay's finally ready to attend the Ball himself, determined to explore the world beyond the castle. Romance is not something he accounted for. Whoops.

Warnings: None

Relationships: Dream & Technoblade (twins), Dream/George, Dream & Wilbur, Dream & Sapnap, Dream & Fundy, Phil/Kristen

Word Count: 1,929

Ao3 Link: Here

Chapters: 1 (here) 2 3 …

The clock in the Great Hall had just sounded twice, and the castle was silent. Guards were just beginning to nod at their posts, servants had long since retired to bed, and the royal family should have been asleep in their beds. The young crown prince was defying expectations.

Clay carefully shut the door of his bedroom with a quiet click, his usual extravagant attire exchanged for a simplistic suit of forest green and a dark cloak. He’d spent the last few nights working on his mask, a blank white disc carefully fitted to his face and painted with a plain black smile. It was embellished with stylized ferns and edged with painstakingly painted daisies. He was proud of it, perhaps embarrassingly so. Art was not one of his strong points.

He spared a quick glance towards the door a few rooms down from his own, knowing his twin, Technoblade, was asleep inside. He’d seriously considered dragging him along on this little excursion he had planned, but ultimately decided he couldn’t risk it. His brother could carry a secret to his grave if he wanted to, but he was a serious stick in the mud about rule breaking. Clay’s general rule of thumb with his brother was that if it could get him in trouble, he kept it to himself, and he really didn’t want his dad to find out about this. This was most definitely in that category, so tonight he was alone.

The other person he’d desperately wanted to confide in was George, his best friend. Technically, he was Clay’s valet and manservant, but over the years their relationship had evolved into something much deeper than that. They spent most of the day together and their friendship had gone from tentative giggling at jokes the other made to raucous late night gossiping sessions and sharing practically everything with each other. George had been the first person brave enough to make fun of him (besides Techno- he didn’t count) and Dream found that he actually liked being the butt of a joke when he could laugh with the person and snap back with some witty retort. George wasn’t afraid of him, and when one was the crown prince, unprejudiced companionship was a valuable commodity.

His friend was currently asleep in the servants quarters far below him in the depths of the castle, sharing a bedroom with fellow servant Floris. After a lot of troubled consideration, he’d decided that he would keep this escapade a secret, at least for now. The worst that could happen to him was he’d be grounded or punished by his dad, but George could lose his job or even worse if he was discovered helping Clay sneak out of the castle. His father wouldn’t care whose idea it had been, only that they were both involved. He was not willing to put that on the line, so no matter how guilty it made him feel, he was going to do this by himself. Besides, Floris was a light sleeper. It would be hard to avoid waking him up.

He slipped down the hall and crept down the stairs on cat feet, tying the strings of the mask behind his head as he went. Getting out of the castle was a simple matter, he’d long ago discovered a window that was loose in its casing and large enough to fit through while being light enough to lift by himself. He could slot it back into place from either side of the wall, which made it the perfect escape route.

The outer wall was a bit more of a challenge, but there was a reason he’d waited until this exact moment. There were only twenty minutes until the next change of the guard, so they would be tired and bleary from four hours of alertness. If he was careful, he could sneak up to a parapet and let himself down with a rope, which is exactly what he did.

He landed on the ground with a soft thud, tying his rope to a nearby tree so that it couldn’t be pulled back up without a hassle. He checked that his mask was secure on his face, then darted off into the night, bound for the brightly lit village in the distance.

Once a month, the town held a Masquerade Ball. Ostensibly, it was a chance to catch up with your neighbors and enjoy a night of carefree revelry. In reality, it was paradise for anyone who wanted to get away from who they were during the day. Not everyone hid their identities, but most did, and they came from all walks of life. Some came in shoddily patched linen with burlap sacks over their faces and some came in fine silk with embroidered bandanas hiding the countenances of high profile officials, but all were treated with the same welcoming spirit. One’s real name was a well-respected secret, and unmasking someone was the ultimate act of cowardice. Anyone who broke that trust would be punished without remorse.

Clay had known about the event for quite some time now, having heard a few details from George, and had finally worked up the courage to attend himself. He was sick and tired of everyone looking at him and seeing someone to be impressed and flattered. He wanted to meet someone as himself for once. Tonight, he wasn’t the crown prince. With the mask and costume on, he became Dream, his idealized self.

He snuck into the town square through an inconspicuous alleyway, ducking into the crowd and hoping he hadn’t been noticed by too many people. He wasn’t looking to draw attention yet. He got a few looks, but most people were content to return to their own conversations and pay him no mind. He was about to sigh in relief, glad to have made it in unscathed, when someone touched his shoulder. He jumped and rapidly turned to face them.

It was a man in a pale tunic and dark pants, the bottom half of his face covered with a cream-colored bandana and sparkling black eyes winking mischievously at him from the upper half.

“Welcome to the Ball,” he offered cheerfully. “You seem like you haven’t been here before.”

Clay nodded, not trusting himself to speak yet without giving himself away.

“Well, if you’d like a dance partner, I would be honored to make your acquaintance.” The man bowed cheekily, extending his hand in invitation.

Clay couldn’t think of a good reason to refuse. He was Dream now, and Dream took risks. Dream could afford to dance with strangers without fear of judgement. He nodded again and took the man’s hand. He was promptly whisked off to the center of the square, where about a dozen couples were dancing to the lively music.

He was grateful for the years of rigorous lessons he had to fall back on as the masked man swept him into the forms of the dance with confident ease. His new friend was leading, but he found he didn’t care much and excitement thrilled in his heart as the man swung him into a dip with a brilliant smile that was obvious even with his mouth obscured.

He felt so alive he could fly, grinning like a madman as the two of them twirled across the square in perfect step. His cape swirled behind him in effortless elegance when he spun, the lightweight fabric echoing his thoughts as he realized he could never happily go back to the heavy woolen mantle he wore to formal events. He’d never danced like this outside of the privacy of his lessons, and it was exhilarating.

The last measure of the song sounded with a triumphant zing, moving into a more sedate melody. His dance partner bowed once again, breathing hard and eyes wild with delight. Clay, equally tired and elated, bowed low in return.

“May I steal you for one more?” the man asked, nodding towards the other couples, who had transitioned to a stately waltz.

In response, Clay caught his arm and took the lead, placing a firm hand on his waist and gently guiding them into the first steps of the dance. They were the epitome of grace, well-matched in skill and dexterity as they flowed through the figures of the waltz. He started to notice a few people staring, growing aware that compared to most of the other attendees this level of expertise was unusual. He decided he didn’t mind the eyes on him as much as he usually did.

With the relaxed pace of the slower song, he was free to fully take in the man in front of him. He was a couple inches shorter than Clay himself and had a shock of dark hair that stuck up in all directions, his skin a few shades shy of olive. The hand clasped in his was callused around the fingers but not the palms, so he probably wasn’t a manual laborer, but he was still well-muscled. His costume was simple but the fabric was a far cry from the coarse cotton of many people here.

Clay estimated he was somewhere in the upper middle class, but he had no idea who was standing in front of him. He felt sure he would’ve remembered those impish eyes if he’d seen them before.

He wondered how he himself looked. He knew his height and fitness weren’t anything to scoff at, and compliments on his appearance were common, but what impression did he make without his famous face? He felt mysterious and intriguing, and certainly something about him had attracted this man’s attention. It felt good, knowing that he was interesting enough to seek out even without his title. He was sure his joy must be showing on his face, and he wished he didn’t need to hide it.

“So,” his partner began, interrupting his thoughts, “do you speak, masked man? I would love to know the voice that matches such exquisite dance skills.”

Clay cleared his throat, pitching his voice a few tones higher than usual. “My ability is no greater than yours,” he said appreciatively.

The bright eye-smile was back. “It’s rare I find such a well-trained dance partner, good sir. Do you have something I can call you?”

“Dream,” he answered warmly. “And what can I call you?”

“Sapnap,” he replied. “And what are you seeking tonight?”

He thought for a moment. He obviously couldn’t say he was escaping royal responsibilities. “An unbiased eye,” he admitted after a brief hesitation. “Why are you here?”

“Why, to dance!” Sapnap laughed. “It’s a Ball, after all. You’re the best partner I’ve seen since the Blood God, and I’ve been coming every month for ten years.”

“Who’s the Blood God? Are they a regular attendee?” he questioned, interest piqued. The name itself evoked fear and awe, but a certain majesty tempered it. And they were apparently a dancer as well.

“He comes most times. He’s here tonight, actually. He keeps to himself, but I finally convinced him to favor me with a dance a few months ago. He’s a very strong performer. He’s dressed in a red cloak and a pig mask, if you’d like to find him later.” He glanced over Clay’s shoulder and his eyes widened. “Or you can meet him now. He’s coming this way.” His expression switched into something more nervous. “To be quite frank, he intimidates me. Act cool.”

Clay laughed lightly and finished the waltz, bowing to Sapnap one more time before turning around to meet the Blood God. His jaw dropped as he saw who was pushing his way through the crowd, suddenly very glad indeed that his face was covered.

#mcyt #dsmp #dreamwastaken #technoblade #georgenotfound #wilbur soot #cinderella inspired #technotwin #fanfic #also on ao3 #fluff #friends to lovers #moderate slow burn #dreamnotfound #dnf fic

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