Devin had indeed thought about it over a hot bath, staring at the ceiling with thoughts of forester dragons as bubbles fizzed around him. Then, he'd thought about it some more over a cup of tea, once again zoning out, this time into the flames of a fireplace.

While anyone with a good heart would risk everything to save their city, Devin was skeptical. The only proof they had that Trunswick was actually in danger was Conor's dreams, which could easily be brought on by paranoia. At the same time, though, this was also Devin's excuse to go on a hunt for a dragon. After all, they were too powerful to hunt to extinction.

So, that night, Devin tossed and turned, thinking, thinking, thinking about his final decision, until his brain was too tired to continue. Curled up in his blankets, he fell asleep.

He was barely clinging to consciousness.

The dragon stared down at him, puffs of smoke blowing out of its nose. Devin thought it was going to squash him. Maybe it would claw him to bits and pieces. Maybe it would just stand there and watch as he grew more and more paralyzed and finally starved to death.

But it moved on, seeing its prey was completely immobile and no longer a threat. It could deal with him later.

Devin's eyelids were getting heavy. Just before he slipped away into a none too comfortable sleep, he noticed something strange. These were not his hands, nor was this his shirt, nor were these his eyelids, by the pattern of things.

How strange dreams were.

Devin awoke drowsily. It was possibly the middle of the night, judging by the sky outside. He shuffled about before finally sitting up, looking around the dark room. How he hated the dark. Closing his eyes, he thought about what he'd seen in the dream. A forester dragon. Beautiful things. However, unlike everything else he found stunning, this thing seemed dangerously close to ending his life.

No, not his life.

That was not him.

Devin opened his eyes again, eyelashes fluttering. "Conor," he breathed out to no one. Maybe to the ghosts he was convinced lived in the corners of his bedrooms, which he sometimes stared at threateningly just to feel better about himself.

Carefully, he climbed out of bed, making sure he didn't step on the one creaky wooden tile that he still hadn't asked someone to fix. He placed his hand on the doorknob, turning it and pulling. The hallway was incredibly depressing at night. Kind of scary too. He stepped out into it reluctantly.

The walk to Conor's temporary room wasn't long, but it sure felt like it. Once he had finally reached the door, he knocked softly. He wasn't even expecting a reply, or even a sound in response, but the door soon opened and Conor's tired expression matched his.

"It's the middle of the night," Conor said, voice raspy from sleep. He rubbed at his left eye.

"It is," Devin replied, nodding. "Can I come in?"

Conor raised a brow at him, but retreated, leaving the door open. It was enough of an invitation. Devin stepped into the room, closing the door gently behind him with a click, then turned to face the other. "You asked," Conor hummed.

"What?"

"It wasn't an order, for once."

Devin blinked. His tired brain could hardly process anything. He was squinting. How hopelessly confused he must have looked. He shook his head, evening out a couple wonky strands of hair in the process. "I had a dream," he revealed.

"I did too," Conor added.

Devin paused. "Even better," he said sourly. "It was just like you said." Devin walked farther into the room, sitting on the edge of the windowsill. Conor gazed at him from the bed. "I wasn't in my own body. I'm almost certain I was seeing through your eyes."

Conor appeared troubled by this. "And what did you see through my eyes?"

Devin crossed his arms uncomfortably, unsure if he should continue. He did not feel very princely right now. "You were fainting," he replied softly, "I thought the dragon would squish you like a bug but it merely turned away and headed somewhere else."

"Towards you," Conor piped up suddenly. "You were hiding."

"Is this a lose-lose situation?" Devin asked flatly.

"Not sure yet." Conor leaned back against the headboard. "We'll figure that out soon.. if you're willing," he added.

Devin tilted his head back against the window. "You never told me what the threat was, and how much time we have," he said slowly, "which gives me a reason to not believe you."

Conor clucked his tongue, then sighed. "Well, Your Highness, I'll tell you now." He smiled as Devin cringed at the proper title, then frowned again, as if he wouldn't allow the prince to make him happy. "The city we see before us, the City of Trunswick, will be transformed into the City of Flames if we don't do something."

Devin's face was stripped of expression as horror washed over him. He couldn't imagine the city burning to a crisp. He couldn't imagine his siblings screaming in a fire, or watching innocent people die as he ran to save his own life even though he barely knew their names. "Why didn't you tell me that sooner?" he snapped. "I would've been a whole lot more cooperative if you'd just told me what was on the line!"

Conor ignored him. "And truthfully, I have no idea how much time we have, which is really the only reason why I'm so impatient," he finished.

Devin stood up and began to pace swiftly. "Why did you keep the most important information from me?" he hissed, voice straining.

"My deepest apologies, Your Highness."

"Shut up!"

"So?" Conor stared at him, expecting an answer.

Devin scoffed. "So? So, count me in! We shouldn't waste more time, so I vote we head out tomorrow."

"Easy, tiger, we don't know where this thing is. Do you think I could slip into the castle's library?" Conor asked the question like a true bookworm, and Devin had met plenty of them.

"My father banished me from the library," Devin said with a sniffle.

Conor opened his mouth as if to ask a question, then shut it.

"I spilled tea on his research."

"You foul creature."

Devin leaned against the wall, not shooting back another comment. Conor shuffled about for a moment, then laid down again. He sighed. The image brought Devin memories since turned sour. "We'll find our way into it somehow. Once we have enough information on this forester dragon, then I guess we'll just have to go look for it." His voice was muffled by the pillow, making him a tad bit harder to understand.

"We shouldn't be talking like this," Devin whispered.

"Like what?"

"So casually. Who has apologized?"

The two boys were silent for a moment, not speaking about their previous interaction two years before. Neither of them had, to answer Devin's question.

Devin let out a weary sigh. He made his way towards the door. "Goodnight, Conor," he murmured.

There was a pause. "Goodnight, Devin."