Chapter Text
The prison is sweltering hot.
On one side, the lava blasts endless waves of heat towards Dream’s cell. It’s as hot as the Nether. Worse, actually, because he never went into the Nether without a layer of armor for heat protection. The only time he went in wearing anything less than netherite was…probably when he was first mining for netherite ores. And even then he’d have worn diamond. It was a long time ago, anyway.
He doesn’t have that protection now. Stripped down to the clothes he spawned in, lacking even his mask for protection, he feels the full searing force of the lava’s warmth on his back. It rises up, sweeps towards him and slams into his back like a tsunami. It almost feels like it’s eating into him through the thin layer of clothing, leaving splotches of blisters where its teeth scrape across open skin.
He’d thrown up his hood to protect the back of his head, but he doubts that did much. Somehow, the burns had even gotten onto his face and hands.
A clang sounds off from far away, and Dream raises his head. Someone had come to visit.
This wasn’t unusual. Dream had had a couple of visitors within the first few days of getting locked in. Former friends and enemies, all there to witness the leader of the SMP locked up and knocked down a peg. Tommy was the first one, and he had preened for an entire hour about his relative freedom before visiting hours ended and Sam had to personally fetch him. Then it was Sapnap, then Punz, then Tommy, then Quackity, then Badboyhalo, then Tommy again …
He’d grown used to it at this point. It was easy to flinch away, cower and act remorseful for what he’d done even when the ones closer to him knew it was a lie. It was fine. Dream will let them have their pretend victory.
Because in the end, he’s still Dream. While he may look defeated now, he’s still the trickster, the puppeteer. He’ll always have something up his sleeve. Everyone knows it too, which is why they puff up their chests with fake bravado during their visits, even though their eyes betray a silent fear. It’s why Quackity still flinches whenever Dream moves despite being armed to the teeth. They can never believe that they’re safe, which- good, because they should be scared.
Because Dream has something they don’t: an obligation, to be fulfilled by the most powerful person on the server. He made sure Technoblade got the message, too. Dream will bide his time, because Technoblade will bide his time, and when the time is right Technoblade will break him out of this dumb prison that’s roasting him alive. And then they’ll truly be sorry.
Because again: Dream isn’t locked in here with them. They were locked in here with him . “Here” being the SMP, because once Dream was free, there would be no mercy and no escape. Once he got all his stuff back, he’d hunt each and every one of them to the ends of the land before he was satisfied.
It’s only a matter of time.
The clang sounds again, closer now, and then Dream hears the telltale sound of the door leading to the opening of the chamber being pulled up. Whoever was here to visit him, they were now only separated by a column of lava.
No one was speaking. It definitely wasn’t Tommy, in that case.
There was a pause as both sides took in the other’s presence. Then feet start moving across the floor, and Dream twists his head around even as the lava’s heat bites his cheek.
One set of footsteps. Not two.
They continue to where Dream knows the lever is placed against the wall, and a loud grinding sound is heard as the lever is pulled down. Then the familiar sound of redstone going off, fading into the walls of the prison before there’s a distant boom, boom, boom, of the prison’s mechanisms moving.
Dream climbs to his feet and faces the opening fully, watching as the lava begins to split apart painstakingly, emitted a harsh, ripping sound as it moves. Soon enough, he can see to the other side.
Sam stands by the lever, emotionless behind his own mask. He’s alone.
Aside from delivering visitors, Sam himself came around less than once a week, and it was only to check that Dream was alive. Otherwise, his only responsibility was to take care of the prison, and he hardly needed Dream’s permission to do that. So why was he here now?
Sam pulls another lever before striding onto the waiting platform, which immediately after begins to move across the lava pit. He’s still a good distance away, but Dream can feel his eyes boring into him the entire time. It’s almost as sharp as the lava’s heat.
The platform brings Sam closer and closer until he’s barely five feet from the lip of the cell, and the netherite bar rises up to push Dream back as Sam steps off. Just in case he’d try to, you know, run off or something. Dream barely holds back a sneer.
For a second they regard each other, Dream defiantly, Sam coolly and without a trace of feeling.
It’s the damn mask, Dream thinks. Or maybe it isn't. Whereas Dream hides his range of emotions behind his mask, behind a confident exterior, Sam seems to wear his to illustrate the fact that he actually has none.
Sam’s eyes flick between his hands and face, settling on the blisters. They’re not as bad as Sam normally witnesses, because Sam normally waits more than three days before his last visit, but the sight still makes him pull out a thin, delicate bottle - regen - and throw it down at Dream’s feet. It shatters on impact, and Dream feels the potion rise and work its way into his skin, cooling the blisters and healing injuries, if only marginally.
Wouldn’t want me to die from these, huh, Dream thinks mockingly. He’s long since stopped voicing thoughts to Sam out loud. The guy just does not reciprocate.
Sam makes a slow round around the room with his eyes, lingering on Dream’s sparse belongings. The water cauldron with potatoes to last the rest of the week. The open chest with stacks of books piled within. The lectern. The clock. Then his eyes focus back on Dream.
“Congratulations,” he says, and his next words punch a hole through Dream’s chest. “You’re out of jail.”
Dream laughs once he’s breathing again, although it still sounds a bit breathless. “Didn’t take you for a joker, Sam.”
His voice is hoarse. He’d almost forgotten how to speak.
Sam only looks back in that impassive way of his, when he doesn’t even bother to respond. Both humor and cynicism rapidly evaporate.
“How?” Dream asks harshly. “How am I free?”
“You’re not free. You’ve still got a sentence to serve. But the leaders of the SMP held a meeting to discuss your sentence and decided that your exemplary behavior in prison, as well as testimonies of your character, are enough to grant you conditional freedom from now on. In other words, you’ve been put on parole.”
Dream stares at Sam, who only stares back steadily with no sign whatsoever that he’s lying. He doesn’t even put on a mocking tone when he says “exemplary behavior”, which is a feat because Dream cannot remember him ever being a model inmate.
And parole? What a joke. They might have been able to keep Dream in this prison, but it was through the forces of lava and obsidian, forces that showed no mercy to any living organism, much less him. How could they expect to keep him in control when he was out and about, among citizens? At full health, no one was as strong as him, not even Sam.
No one except-
“Let’s go,” Sam says, and follows that up with a splash potion of weakening. Then a blindfold is being yanked over Dream’s head, and restraints are being placed around his wrists. He’s too surprised to even protest it.
Technoblade. Technoblade was stronger than him.
Sam pulls him towards the cell opening and onto the platform, where the air rises rapidly in temperature and waves of fire lick at his skin. He stands on unsteady feet and thinks about launching them both into the lava, but Sam seems to predict that thought because his hand tightens around Dream’s wrists.
It wouldn’t make sense. But Technoblade had owed him a favor, and he had promised to get him out, so Dream should be on the alert for anything unusual. And this was unusual, wasn’t it?
They’re back on ground again, and Sam hoists up the levers with his free hand. The sound of gears groaning and shifting fills Dream’s ears for a good half-minute, and it’s only after they subside that Dream realizes Sam had kept him walking. He has no idea where he is right now.
Technoblade’s got to be involved in this somehow. The SMP wouldn’t just decide to put him on parole, or call all the times he’s thrown himself into the lava on purpose “exemplary behavior”.
Sam continues leading him left and right, through corridors and up and down stairs, until Dream can hardly remember where they’ve been travelling. By the time they stop, Dream’s no closer to figuring out where the cell was in location to the rest of the prison.
There’s someone speaking in this room who stops upon his arrival. He recognizes it as Badboyhalo.
“Everyone, Dream,” Sam says as an introduction, before pulling Dream’s blindfold off. Dream blinks into the sudden light, and then his heart races.
Bad and Antfrost sit off to the side, clad in netherite like Sam. He ignores them.
Technoblade, front and center, smiles with sharp teeth. “Long time no see, Dream.”