Chapter Text
Soulmates were controversial.
There were many who loved the idea and willingly accepted it, but there were always those who wanted nothing to do with them. They wanted to choose their own destinies, their own family, their own lovers. You see, soulmates didn’t always dictate who you were bound to love, in fact it was very rarely romantic love. They usually signaled who you were going to be best friends with, or who would be a second family when your birth family was lacking.
For some, soulmates were amazing. For others, they already had everything they needed, and shunned their soulmates.
Shunning was the worst thing that could happen to a person, so it was said. It was rumored to hurt, it was rumored to burn, it was rumored to be worse than any physical injury that anyone could sustain. Those who experienced it tended not to speak about it, but there are always exceptions. Some boasted about surviving the pain, some weren’t there to speak about it.
He’d never told anyone about it, but Sam’s worst fear was being shunned by his soulmate. It wasn’t really rational, and he only based it off of the general opinion of hybrids (which wasn’t very good, only doubled by the fact that his hybrid half was a hostile mob of all things), but still. His mother tried to iron it out of him with all the love and affection that she could provide, but it didn’t work. Sam was still terrified of the day that his soulmate would lay eyes on him and say that he wouldn’t be enough, like the world had been telling him since he was old enough to understand what it meant.
Sam’s wrist held the words that his soulmate would say to him by the time he was thirteen, which was normal for kids his age. At least something was normal about him, he thought, what with being a creeper hybrid among mostly humans.
The words were written in a messy, dark scrawl, something that might identify his soulmate’s handwriting later. They were harsh, harsh words that had made a small Sam cry for a week, on and off.
Oi, asshole, get over here!
His mother tried to suggest that it was a loving nickname. Sam didn’t feel any better, but he went on with his life. He lived, and he enjoyed it, and he tried to push the angry whispers that his future would be filled with pain. He made friends, though, and he loved them, so it was easier than he might’ve thought to ignore it.
He’d grown up and joined the DreamSMP, staying in the country and avoiding civilization because large groups of new people meant the possibility of his soulmate being there. Part of him hated hiding, especially when he heard tales of war and fire, not knowing if the deaths he heard of were his soulmate or not. The woods treated him well, though, so he was content to stay as long as Dream visited weekly to catch him up on the news.
The news probably wasn’t completely neutral, with the ‘kids’ fighting against Dream being described as rowdy, no-good rascals who need a parent. Sam was kept amused, but he found himself siding with the people messing with Dream more and more as time ticked on.
A country was developed, and Dream was bitter about it. Then he was happy, it was all taken care of. Angry again-- they’d rebuilt. Then overjoyed: he’d come up with a way to make it all work out. Dream arrived scowling one day, because the children dared try to call a bluff. Dream said he’d make them pay.
Good things never stay. Dream came less often, his words more vicious, and soon, no one remembered the creeper hybrid in the woods except for the animals that grew friendly towards him. It was fine, though, that Sam didn’t know what was going on in the SMP. He didn’t care to find out. The woods were kind to him, the birds sang sweetly, and it was peaceful. He mined into his mountain and he made his complicated little contraptions, and he held no worries for the outside world.
(He must have given those worries to Tommy, newly in exile and scared of being alone.)
At least, not until the fire came raging from the other side of the forest. An angry, hot, burst of flames that attacked his forest. Sam opened his doors and the animals that had grown to trust him streamed into his house, seeking refuge. Sam left his home for the first time in a month, maybe more, he wasn’t sure. He picked up the animals that were too weak to run, he saved who he could, and he ran back to his home. He knew a natural fire, and this wasn’t it- this was a strong, magical fire, and he didn’t want to be around when the maker of it arrived.
He only knew one person capable of this. He only knew of one blaze hybrid with the simmering anger this would take. He didn’t want to meet the person his friend had become.
Sam went to hit the lever to close his door as something made him turn back. He met the eyes of Dream, more vivid than he remembered, the edges of his lime green sweatshirt stained red. Sam opened his mouth in greeting, but Dream spoke first.
“Hey, Sam. Glad to see the fire hasn’t quite reached you yet.” Dream’s tone indicated that he wasn’t very glad at all, and the harshness of it stung.
“What do you mean?” Sam asked, the question of why Dream stopped visiting dying on his tongue.
Dream scoffed, stepping closer as the door slammed shut, cutting off Sam's escape. He wasn't concerned for the animals, there was always the back door he’d made sure was easy for them to open in case they ever darted in and got stuck if he left, but he was worried about himself. Dream had unsheathed his sword and was continuing to creep towards him, a sinister laugh entering the air that Sam didn’t remember.
What was going on that had changed his friend so drastically?
Sapnap stepped out from behind a burning tree, eyes blazing as flames danced across his skin. “Dream?” He yelled. “What are you doing? This is between us, leave Sam out of this”
Dream sighed, rearing around to face Sapnap. “I don’t care, Sapnap. I play dirty, and right now, he’s my best option at winning, because you wouldn’t let a hostage die, not when death has become so familiar to you.” That terrifying gaze went to look at Sam, but he took his opportunity and ran.
He didn’t dare look back, didn’t dare try to reason with the wraith that was chasing him through the not-yet burning woods.
It was a race called survival, and Sam had a feeling he was going to come in second place.
That didn’t mean he couldn’t try, though, because the feeling of respawning was hell and he had no intentions of going through it. Besides-- for all he knew, there was a spawn trap waiting for him.
He hadn’t heard the tell-tale crunching of leaves behind him, but that didn’t mean anything. That didn’t mean he was safe. That didn’t mean he--
A heavy weight crashed into his side, making him fall to the ground.
It was a race for freedom, and Sam didn’t win.
To be honest, though, he’d expected death. A horrible, painful death, with many more to follow until they were all used up. He figured he’d die with the knowledge that his mother would have to open the door to Dream, the admin, with the horrible news of his death, without knowing that his killer was on her doorstep.
Instead, he woke up. He woke up restrained and unable to move, to be fair, but it was a plus. It was better than dead, at the very least.
Or it would be, if his head wasn’t pounding like the devil on god’s door.
“You are a lucky man, Sam.”
The voice sent a shock of terror down his back. It felt slimy in his eardrums, it was wrong. That should’ve been one of his best friends, instead it was the voice of the person who could’ve killed him, but prolonged the feeling of dread.
His voice was dry. “Can I ask why?”
Dream chuckled. “I was gonna kill you. Wanted to, too, since you’re the only one to escape me. But you’re more valuable to me alive than dead.” His voice fell flat, the amusement leaving. “Truth is, I always planned on getting you into my clutches.”
Sam hummed, trying to keep the rising panic down. Where was he? Some sort of home base, but it had walls that towered above him into a terrifying, dark ceiling. “What would happen if I refused to help you with whatever you need me for?” He wasn’t a fool. Violence was the only thing that Dream took this seriously, and this qualified.
“Now isn’t the time to play hero, Sam.” Dream drawled. “I can make your worst nightmare happen.”
In spite of the danger he was in, Sam almost laughed. Dream couldn’t make Sam’s soulmate denounce him even if he tried-- Sam figured that he’d meet his soulmate after he got off of this piece of shit server.
Dream tilted his head. “That didn’t do the trick? Ah, well, we’ve got all the time in the world. I’ll figure out something that’ll make you obey me.” he leaned towards Sam’s ear, voice lowering into a whisper. “Maybe it’ll be that sweet little dog of yours. What’s her name again… Fran?”
The blood drained out of Sam’s face even though he knew that Fran had probably escaped their house by now. “Don’t touch her.” He snarled. “Don’t you dare.”
“So that’s what makes you mad. So selfless, Sam. I’m impressed, I really am.” Dream chuckled. “But it doesn’t matter. Just cooperate, and Fran will be fine. I promise.”
Sam didn’t bother mentioning that Dream’s promises meant nothing to him. How could they?
It was a tough couple weeks. Dream had Sam working during the day, as far as he could tell, building a secure fortress that no one would be able to break into. He only ever worked on the inside, though, as it was underground and safe from people that might try to break him free. Redstone filled the air with thick dust as traps and tricks were laid down.
During the nights, though, Sam was imprisoned in a cell. The cold chains bit against his wrists and twisted around his ankles, making Sam not so sure that he’d ever see the starry night skies again. He missed Fran, but he would never wish for her to be there with him. By this point, she was probably having the time of her life in the woods, a wild wolf that wouldn’t care when Sam’s body was thrown over the ramparts upon completion of the interior.
No. That was no way to think, he’d get out of there. That’s why he was cooperating, wasn’t it? To gain time, to gain ideas, to gain a sliver of hope that he’d survive to see his mother again?
Although, escape was near impossible.
At the beginning, Sam would build every day, Dream’s watchful eyes observing his every move. Sam felt the harshness of the gaze on his neck, and knew not to try anything. It wasn’t anyone else, either. Just Dream, acting all friendly and nice like Sam wasn’t his prisoner.
Then, Sam would expect the white mask to show and it wouldn’t. Dream was doing something else. He was busy, and the mostly-done fortress was moved from highest priority. Something was happening out there, but the increasingly rare days that Sam saw the light offered no hints. Whatever was taking his attention away was making him mad.
It had been three days since anyone had come to see him, and Sam was lonely. He was hungry, he was thirsty, but most of all, he was lonely, and it scared him. He almost didn’t care about Dream’s mood when he returned, he just wanted to see a familiar face, friendly or not. It was terrifying that he missed his imprisoner, but Sam couldn’t help it.
The dark stones that surrounded him let close to no light through, and muffled sounds so that Sam couldn’t yell for help. He’d tried that before.
Wait--
What was that? It was obscured, but it sounded like yelling. Clashing, like a fight was going on. It sounded close. The door at the top of the staircase, which was outside of the cell he was in, swung open with a clang. Footsteps scurried down it, and Sam looked up tiredly to see Dream, no pity shining in his eyes as the shackles were unchained.
“Are you letting me go?” Sam asked, voice hoarse.
“No.” Dream bit out. “Come with me.” He grasped Sam’s arm and tugged him roughly back where he’d come from.
“Oh.” Sam said, ignoring the lump in his throat.
A group of people was gathering from the nether portal that Dream must’ve added in recently. He recognized some of them, others he didn’t. Some he remembered from descriptions that he’d been given so long ago.
“Oh, Tommy!” Dream sang. “Look what I’ve got. Don’t you want to play a hero? Well here’s your chance, come save this poor, helpless soul.” then, quieter. “Say something, Sam. Beg to be saved. Ask for help.”
He tried, but nothing came out. He was tired, so tired. Wouldn’t death be easier?
Dream’s sword pressed against his throat with more force, a small trickle of blood following. “I said, beg.”
“Please,” Sam gasped, tears gathering in the corner of his eyes as he realized freedom was right there, at the edges of his fingertips. “Please, don’t leave me here, don’t leave me with him. I don’t think I… I can’t take it. I’ve been here so long, I don’t want-- want to die here. Help me, please.” His choked voice echoed in the room, and everyone heard it. Everyone heard his plea, but it was silent.
“I don’t think they care, Sam.” Dream pouted. “Try again. Maybe they’ll listen this time.”
He didn’t want to.
“Do it, Sam.” Dream said, so sickly sweet. “I’m not going to ask again.”
“Help me.” Sam whispered.
Dream scoffed. “You can do better than that, Sam, but I’ll give you some help.” He moved the sword from its previous place and plunged it into Sam’s side, making the hybrid yell out in pain.
Suddenly, an arrow hit Dream in the arm, sending the room into a flurry of movement. Dream moved away, letting Sam crumple to the ground as the voices rose.
“Hey, asshole!” A kid hollered at him. “Get over here!” The faces were already getting more blurry.
It was a few more moments before a softer voice was in Sam's ear. “Don’t worry, he was just saying that because he didn’t want to have to help carry you. It’s Sapnap-- Let’s get you home, yeah?”
Sam didn’t have the strength to whisper that he wasn’t so sure he had a home anymore, nor the foresight to realize that he’d just found it.
He woke up to a pair of eyes staring deep into his soul. They were a blue-grey, and they were far too close to his face for comfort.
“Please back up a little.” Sam croaked, and the eyes left.
“Yes!” The kid who the eyes belonged to shouted. “A little disappointed that my soulmate fuckin’ old, but you’ll do. You can sneak me into bars, get me drinks.--”
“I don’t think so.” Sam said, amused despite the soreness of his wound and the dryness of his throat, mostly relieved that his soulmate wasn’t as mean as he’d thought they’d be.
“I’m Tommy.” the kid grinned, his eyes just a little too dull to match. “Dream was a dick to me, too.”
From there, Tommy didn’t stop talking. History, current events, plans for the future. Tommy mentioned them all as Sam lay in bed, unable to escape from the constant stream of noise. It was okay, though. Sam got to hear the other side of all the stories Dream had relayed, and got to know his… his soulmate in the process.
Sam did his best to keep Tommy safe, though once Dream was revoked from admin status, there wasn’t much to keep him safe from. He met everyone on the server, and though neither of them were better, they were healing together. Tommy gloated to Phil as often as he could that Sam was better than he was, and Sam apologized by helping Phil with an interesting building project.
When Fran had a litter of puppies, Tommy claimed the runt as his own and named him Tubbo. Sam trained the puppy to be a service dog, much like Fran already was, so that when he wasn’t there and Tommy had another rough night, another tormenting nightmare, Tommy would be okay.
Tommy made up reasons to stop by Sam’s house when he could tell it was a bad day, set off by claustrophobia or something else that reminded him of imprisonment.
They helped each other, and with the others on the server they were a family. A flawed one, to be sure, but a family nonetheless.
***
Left scrunched up their face. “That wasn’t happy.”
“What do you mean?” Right argued. “Of course it was. Happiness isn’t always constant, sometimes you have to end with it to make it all the more sweet.”
Left groaned. “Then it’s cheating. You can’t put angst in it and call it fluff.”
Right scoffed. “Can too, I just did.”
“Whatever.” Left rolled their eyes. “The sad part wasn’t too bad, I’ll give you that, but I think it’s my turn to show you what despair really is.”