Days passed, and George found himself sinking deeper into the dark world of Dream’s castle. The oppressive air weighed on him, and while Dream kept his word—offering safety, luxury, and care—it all came at a cost. George’s freedom was the price.

Every morning, Dream would visit him with some new gift, his way of showing affection. First, it had been the delicate pearl necklace that marked George as Dream’s possession. Then, there were fine clothes, rare foods, and trinkets that would have been fit for royalty. But each gift only served as a reminder of the cage he was trapped in.

On this particular morning, George sat by the window, staring out at the desolate landscape of the Nether. He longed for the open skies of his home, the sun’s warmth on his face. Instead, the horizon was painted in blood-red hues, the world outside as bleak as the one inside.

The door creaked open, and George didn’t need to turn to know who it was. Dream’s presence was unmistakable, his footsteps soft yet commanding as he entered the room. George heard the rustle of fabric as Dream approached, and moments later, the demon lord placed something in his lap.

“I brought you something new, my angel,” Dream said, his voice low and smooth. “I think you’ll like this one.”

George looked down at the item Dream had given him—a small, intricately carved box made of dark wood. Inside, nestled in velvet, was a beautiful bracelet made of shimmering black gems that glowed faintly in the dim light. It was stunning, undoubtedly rare and expensive.

But George didn’t care.

He looked up at Dream, his expression blank, though his heart ached. “Thank you,” he murmured, trying to keep his voice steady, though the words felt hollow.

Dream’s green eyes studied George intently, searching for a reaction. When George didn’t show the excitement he was clearly hoping for, a flicker of frustration passed through Dream’s features.

“Don’t you like it?” Dream asked, his voice tinged with an edge of impatience. “It’s from the depths of the Underrealm, something no one else could give you.”

George forced a small smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s… beautiful. Really.”

But Dream wasn’t fooled. He could sense George’s indifference, the way his eyes didn’t light up with joy. And that realization gnawed at him.

For weeks now, Dream had been showering George with gifts, hoping that each one would win him over, make him more compliant, more accepting of his new life. But no matter what Dream gave him, George remained distant, trapped in his own mind, in his longing for freedom.

Dream took a step back, his gaze hardening as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You don’t seem grateful, George,” he said, his voice low, but the underlying threat was clear. “I’ve given you everything—protection, luxury, more than anyone else would offer. And yet, you act as if it means nothing.”

George clenched his hands in his lap, staring down at the bracelet, feeling the weight of Dream’s words pressing down on him. He was grateful, in a way, but not for the reasons Dream expected. He was grateful he was still alive, grateful that Dream hadn’t resorted to more violent means to control him. But that didn’t mean he wanted this.

“I don’t want things, Dream,” George said softly, his voice shaking slightly. “I just want… freedom.”

Dream’s expression darkened, his patience fraying. He knelt down in front of George, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the angel. “Freedom?” Dream repeated, his voice quiet but dangerous. “I told you, there’s no freedom for you outside of this castle. You belong to me now. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be.”

George’s heart pounded in his chest, but he refused to look away. He couldn’t keep pretending, couldn’t keep playing along with Dream’s twisted version of affection. “I can’t… I can’t live like this, Dream,” George whispered, his voice filled with desperation. “I’m not something you can just own.”

Dream’s jaw tightened, his frustration boiling over. He had been patient, so patient with George, but now, the angel’s resistance was starting to wear on him. “You don’t understand, George,” Dream growled, standing up abruptly. “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you. To keep you safe, to give you a life others could only dream of.”

George shook his head, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But it’s not my life, Dream. It’s yours.”

The silence that followed was thick, oppressive. Dream stared at George, his mind racing, trying to make sense of his angel’s stubbornness. He had given George everything—why wasn’t that enough? Why wasn’t George happy?

Without another word, Dream turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him. George flinched at the sound, his heart pounding in his chest.

---

Dream paced in his chambers, his mind a storm of emotions. He was furious, but not just at George—at himself. Why did he care so much about what George thought? Why did it matter if the angel didn’t appreciate his gifts?

He clenched his fists, trying to suppress the anger that was bubbling up inside him. George’s words echoed in his mind: “I can’t live like this… I’m not something you can just own.”

Dream had always been able to control everything in his realm, to bend people to his will. But George was different. No matter how much Dream tried to buy his loyalty, to make him understand the safety Dream offered, it wasn’t enough.

And it was starting to drive Dream mad.

He had never wanted something—someone—so badly. Not just for their beauty, but for the connection, for the companionship. He had thought that if he gave George everything, the angel would come to love him in return. But now, Dream wasn’t so sure.

For the first time, Dream regretted the gifts he had given. Not because they weren’t valuable, but because they had failed to win George’s heart. Each offering was a reminder of how far Dream was from getting what he truly wanted.

He sank down onto his throne, running a hand through his hair. His green eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, his mind consumed with thoughts of George. What more could he do? How could he make George stay, not just physically, but emotionally?

Dream didn’t have an answer. And that uncertainty terrified him.

The atmosphere in the castle was tense. Dream had been quieter than usual since his last conversation with George, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. He had retreated to his chambers after slamming the door, leaving George alone, wrapped in the heavy silence of his captivity. Sapnap, ever observant, had noticed the growing distance between the demon lord and his angel.

As Dream paced back and forth in his throne room, Sapnap entered, his footsteps deliberately light, not wanting to disturb his master but sensing the need for an intervention.

"Dream," Sapnap said softly, "I’ve been thinking."

Dream didn’t stop pacing, his gaze fixated on the floor as if it held the answers to all his problems. "What is it, Sapnap?" he muttered, his voice low and strained.

"You’ve been trying to win over George with gifts, but..." Sapnap hesitated, choosing his words carefully. He knew how delicate the situation was, especially with Dream’s temper on edge. "But maybe you’re giving him the wrong things."

Dream finally paused, his sharp green eyes locking onto Sapnap. "Wrong things? What are you talking about?" he demanded, though there was a flicker of curiosity in his voice.

Sapnap crossed his arms and leaned against the stone wall. "George isn’t like the others. He’s not impressed by material stuff. It’s not about pearls, rare foods, or jewelry for him."

Dream's expression darkened slightly. "And what would you suggest then? I’ve tried everything."

Sapnap pushed himself off the wall and stepped forward, his tone more confident now. "I overheard George talking to one of the servants. He mentioned he liked flowers, that they reminded him of the world he came from. It’s probably the one thing from his old life that he’s still holding onto."

Dream’s brow furrowed as he processed Sapnap’s words. Flowers? Of all the things... He had given George treasures beyond measure, and yet the angel longed for something as simple as flowers?

"I think if you gave him a garden," Sapnap continued, his voice steady, "it might show him that you’re actually paying attention to what he wants, not just what you think he should have."

Dream stood still, considering the idea. A garden… a place where George could escape the dark, foreboding atmosphere of the Nether, where he could feel some semblance of peace. It was a far cry from the gifts Dream was used to offering, but maybe, just maybe, it would reach George in a way that the other offerings hadn’t.

Dream nodded slowly, his mind already racing with plans. "Fine," he said, his voice firm. "I’ll have the garden made. But this better work, Sapnap. I won’t tolerate failure."

Sapnap gave a slight smirk, sensing the shift in Dream’s tone. "I think it’ll help. Just... give him something real, Dream. Something that shows you’re listening."

---

Over the next few days, the transformation of a previously unused section of the castle grounds began. Dream ordered his servants to cultivate the finest flowers they could find—rare and exotic blooms that grew even in the Nether's harsh environment. He ensured that every detail was perfect, from the winding stone paths to the small, tranquil fountain in the center of the garden.

Dream himself oversaw the process, his mind consumed by thoughts of how George would react. For once, this wasn’t about control, or ownership, or displaying his wealth and power. It was about giving George something that might bring him peace—a reflection of the world he’d lost.

When the garden was complete, Dream stood at the entrance, a faint sense of unease settling in his chest. This was new territory for him, this attempt to genuinely understand another being’s desires. He wasn’t used to vulnerability, and yet, here he was, hoping that this would finally break through George’s walls.

With a deep breath, he made his way to George’s chambers.

---

George was sitting by the window, as he often did, staring out at the horizon, lost in thought. He hadn’t seen much of Dream over the past few days, and while that should have been a relief, it only left him feeling more trapped. Every day felt like a cycle of silent despair.

The door creaked open, and George tensed instinctively, expecting another one of Dream’s unwelcome visits. But this time, Dream didn’t carry a new gift or make a grand entrance. Instead, he stood quietly in the doorway, watching George for a moment before speaking.

"I have something to show you," Dream said softly, his voice lacking the usual arrogance.

George glanced at him warily. "Another gift?" he asked, his voice tinged with exhaustion.

Dream shook his head. "Not exactly. Just... come with me."

George hesitated, but something in Dream’s tone—less commanding, more sincere—made him rise from his seat. He followed Dream through the castle’s dimly lit halls until they reached a large set of doors he hadn’t seen before. Dream pushed them open, revealing the breathtaking sight beyond.

The garden was unlike anything George had seen since arriving in the Nether. The air was cooler here, softer, and the scent of flowers filled his lungs. Colors that were missing from the rest of the dark world burst to life in this hidden sanctuary—vibrant reds, purples, blues, and greens. The sound of trickling water from the fountain added a calming melody to the atmosphere.

For a moment, George was speechless.

"I... I had this made for you," Dream said quietly, stepping beside George but keeping his distance. "I know it’s not the same as your world, but I thought it might remind you of home."

George’s chest tightened as he looked around, taking in the beauty of the garden. It wasn’t his home, but it was a glimpse of something familiar, something that made his heart ache with both sorrow and gratitude.

"You... did this for me?" George asked, his voice soft, incredulous.

Dream nodded, his eyes fixed on the garden. "I heard you liked flowers."

George took a shaky breath, the weight of the gesture settling in. It wasn’t just another trinket, another sign of Dream’s power. This was different. It was a small piece of the life George had lost, offered to him in a world where he had no control.

For the first time, George felt a glimmer of something other than fear or resentment. It wasn’t happiness—he still longed for freedom, for his old life—but this garden was... something. A small kindness in the midst of his captivity.

"Thank you," George whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Dream glanced at him, his expression softening ever so slightly. "You’re welcome," he said, and for once, the words held no trace of arrogance or demand. Just... sincerity.

As George wandered into the garden, his fingers brushing the petals of the flowers, Dream watched him in silence. He had no idea if this would be enough to bridge the gap between them, but for the first time, Dream wasn’t focused on winning or owning.

He was focused on giving George something that mattered.