Chapter Text
Rain poured down in silver streams as a strong wind rattled the windows of Wilbur Soot’s small medicine cottage. The faint glow of a dying lantern was barely enough to illuminate the space. Wilbur worked quickly, praying the final remnants of oil would last until he was done tending his patients wounds. Bloodied cloths fell to the floor around him, a half empty bottle of distilled alcohol now covered in red handprints.
Tommy Innit breathed slowly as his friend worked. He didn’t wince when his cuts were being sterilized, no matter how much it hurt. He focused on the rhythm of the rain pattering on the roof, listening intently for any unusual sounds. Every rustle of a tree branch put him on edge, internally prepared for defense even still. Tommy brought an unsteady hand to push the wet hair from his face. His whole body seemed to shake; he told himself it was adrenaline, but deep down he knew a part of him was still afraid.
No words had been spoken until Wilbur wiped the blood from his hands and applied clean gauze to Tommy’s bicep. The other lacerations were small enough that Wilbur left them unwrapped. He didn’t have the resources to spare, and God knew he’d used plenty of his supply on his young friend already.
“That’ll do,” Wilbur stated, standing up from his stool to grab a clean towel. Tommy remained sitting on the canvas cot, looking both apologetic and on edge. He ran a gentle finger over the cuts along his face and collar bone, regretting it immediately as his own touch made them sting.
“How long do I have to keep this thing on?” Tommy raised his arm in reference to the bandage, a hint of irritation in his voice.
“You say that as though I’m the reason you need it in the first place.” Wilbur didn’t look over to his friend as he wiped down the work station. Tommy let out a breath and shifted his weight.
“Well what would you have me do Wilbur?”
“Stay out of trouble, Tommy.” Wilbur threw the dirty towels into a wooden basket. “How many times have we been in this situation? Why do I have to keep telling you to just keep your head down and quit starting problems.”
Tommy hung his head, feeling like a child being scolded. He often forgot the seven year age gap between the two, but times like this made him feel small.
“It was Toby.” Tommy’s words made Wilbur hesitate for a moment. “Sapnap and Punz had him cornered, I heard him shouting. They’d already taken the gold he had on him but they wouldn’t just let him be. I wasn’t going to let them hurt him again.”
Wilbur glanced out his window, not that he’d be able to see anything through the flow of rain. He wasn’t going to condemn Tommy for defending Tubbo, but he didn’t want to encourage his rash behavior either.
“Is he okay?” Wilbur asked.
“Yeah. He ran when I pulled Sapnap away, distracted the two long enough for him to bolt. I managed to get away too but only barely, and after they got a few swings on me.”
“So they’re still out there?”
“Perhaps. They may have gotten bored of tormenting people though.” Tommy slowly got up from the bed, reaching to put on his wet, torn shirt once more. Wilbur picked up the lantern, which had almost extinguished, and locked the front door.
“Best not to go out then,” Wilbur said, now turning to go into his own room. “Let me get you a new shirt, sleeping in that one will surely give you a cold.”
“I’m fine Wilbur.” Tommy’s words didn’t stop him, he grabbed both a top and a blanket and brought them to the cot. For a moment Tommy contemplated fighting harder, but truthfully, the last thing he wanted to do was go back into the dark night.
“You’re staying here tonight. I know it’s not the comfiest bed but I don’t want to waste anymore bandages from you walking into another fight. We’ll check on Tubbo tomorrow.” Wilbur left Tommy to himself again to let him settle into bed. One last check of his office showed all the doors and windows had been securely locked. Wilbur changed into his own set of night clothes and hung his stained shirt on the back of a wooden rocking chair.
“I would offer you other pants but I’m afraid they’d be a bit long,” Wilbur teased, hoping that some playful banter might lift the dreariness of the evening. Sure enough, a quiet chuckle sounded from the other room. It put the faintest smile back on both boys’ face.
“You’ll let me know if you need anything?” Wilbur heard a mumbled affirmation from Tommy, which was all he needed to snuff out the lantern and climb into bed himself. Pulling the woolen quilt up to his face, he tried to close his eyes and fall asleep. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy, it never was. Tommy’s gentle snores soon hummed through the cottage. Minutes turned to hours until eventually Wilbur wore out his own brain by thinking and scheming. Ways to help his friends, how to make his supplies stretch, what he could do to strengthen the community on the outskirts of the small nation. He’d filled pages and pages of thoughts and ideas yet he couldn’t rest. There was always something that needed to be done, it seemed. And even though Wilbur knew he wasn’t obligated to be the leader figure for those around him he still felt compelled to do so. He almost wished he didn’t have the inclination, but then who would be the one to take his place?
Tomorrow he would go scavenging for more herbs and plants, he’d decided. He let his mind plot out each step of the next day’s task over and over, sure not to miss any detail, until eventually he fell asleep.
Dream sat expectantly at his large oak table, fingers drumming with impatient fervor against the wood. Each glance at the clock above the double doors made him even more aggravated; past midnight and his men were running around like children. Rain drops echoed from the roof through the stone walls of his manor, a usually calming sound that now put Dream on edge. Of course, the footsteps of his friend pacing back and forth, throwing darts into the cork target, didn’t help.
George kept stealing glances at the man in the high-backed chair, unsure of whether he should speak or let him sort out his own frustrations. He did his best to keep busy, practicing his aim with the small metal darts. A useless skill when it came to anything of importance, but perhaps he could use it to win money off his friends when they’d challenge each other to a game. Each time George landed a bullseye he stepped back even further, eventually getting at least fifteen feet from the board. One poor throw sent the dart clattering against the wall and onto the floor.
Dream pushed away from the table, standing up so abruptly that it made George jump and drop the rest of the darts to the ground.
“They were supposed to be here an hour ago,” Dream growled, glancing across the room to the large windows that overlooked the city.
“They’re idiots Dream. They’ll be here though, they always are,” George did his best to calm down his friend as he picked the darts up. One more throw and he managed to at least get it on the target.
“Will you put those away.” Dream marched over to the board and ripped out the dart, throwing it onto a side table. George breathed out and rolled his eyes, but did as he’d been asked. Though it wasn’t uncommon for Dream to be in a sour mood, tonight he seemed more agitated than usual.
“What’s got you all worked up tonight?” George calmly walked to the table in the center of the room, surveying the sprawling map laid across it. Marks in red and blue ink littered the paper, but none of it was distinguishable. It was clear Dream was working on something, though there was hardly ever a time he wasn’t. George fiddled with a small wooden pawn that he recognized as belonging to his chess board.
“These assholes better be here in the next ten minutes or I swear..”
As if on cue, the shouts and yells of Punz and Sapnap began to sound from outside, growing in volume as the doors swung open to reveal the two drenched, intoxicated men. Dream glared at them, but the two were too busy playfully shoving each other and bantering to notice.
“Guess who got themselves quite the haul tonight!” Sapnap cheered. He threw a small drawstring bag onto the map, scattering a few chess pieces across the table. Dream pursed his lips and closed his eyes, steadying himself.
“Twelve gold pieces! That’ll fund tomorrow’s drinks, don’t you think?” Punz gloated. George stood to the side, waiting for the inevitable fight to pass so they could get on with business.
“Do you know what time it is?” The calmness in Dream’s voice was almost scarier than the anger that George knew he was suppressing. The two didn’t seem to notice the ire building up in their leader, and shrugged, sluffing off their jackets. Dream continued, “I’ve been waiting over an hour for you shit heads. And not only do you show up late, but you come in drunk off your ass!”
“Hey now, we only had a few pints! Come on, you’re making it seem like we can’t hold our alcohol.” Dream took a few steps over to Sapnap as he laughed at his own joke, picking up the bag of coins. He threw them across the room into the roaring fireplace, the sound of metal hitting the bricks with a loud clatter.
“I’m not here for you two to waste my time! Get out of my house.” Sapnap and Punz both began to protest and complain about their treasure, but Dream cut them off. “Get the fuck out. I’m not going over strategies when two of my officers are intoxicated. We’ll pick things up tomorrow.”
George stepped forward to say something as Dream stormed out of the room, but stopped as his friend passed by him without a word. Sapnap and Punz stood by silently, looking only the slightest bit remorseful. They grumbled to themselves as they grabbed their coats and stepped back into the stormy evening. George looked between the door and Dream’s study. It may not have been the best decision to approach him while he was so high strung, but he knew he’d feel guilty leaving him in that state.
George knocked on the frame of the open door, announcing his presence. An annoyed “What?” sounded from inside. He stepped into view, seeing Dream hunched over his desk.
“Don’t think too much of those two, you know they aren’t doing it to spite you. They’re just not thinking.” George took another step forward.
“That’s the problem, they’re not thinking. They aren’t taking anything seriously anymore.” Dream threw his pen down, leaning back in the leather chair. “Do they think that since the rebellion died down and the walls are fortified we’re completely safe? There’s still plenty of shit that needs sorting out, it’s just not as exciting as slashing down mutant creatures.”
“That’s what they do best though. They don’t care about resource distribution or the economic status of Essempee. They need something to fight or they get restless. They’re not the kind of people who want to sit around making preparations and policy decisions.” Dream looked at George, pondering his words for a moment. It seemed like an offhanded statement on George’s part, more of an observation about the personalities of their friends, but something about it resonated in him. Conflict between factions had been extinguished; there were no more open rebellions or threats as far as Dream and his men could see. Maybe Sapnap and the others needed something to fight in order to get them engaged in the less glamorous aspects of governing.
“So.. without something openly opposing them, they've become apathetic,” Dream though out loud. George shrugged, agreeing half-heartedly. A few moment of silence passed.
“You can go George.” Dream stood from his desk, gathering papers and organizing them into piles. “I’ll need you bright and early tomorrow.”
George nodded, watching to make sure there wasn’t anything else he needed to say. Dream appeared to be deep in thought, he barely noticed when the brunette slipped out of the room. The cogs were turning in his mind and an unstoppable train of thought was in motion. Tomorrow would be a long day, there was much to do. By the time Dream had gone from his study to his bedroom he’d already formulated the entire plan in his mind. Dream loved when pieces fell into place, it was the greatest satisfaction he could get to see the world form around him precisely as he envisioned. And the sparks in his mind lit a fire that would not soon be extinguished; a fire that would lead to devastation beyond everyone’s expectation.