Work Text:
"Your pride is going to be the death of you."
He was eight, had just won a duel against Sapnap.
Dream had come home yelling and celebrating about his victory, shouting to the streets until his throat was raw.
His mother had sat him down, explained why what he'd done was excessive.
He didn't understand. He just wanted to be appreciated.
"Your pride is going to be the death of you."
Technoblade had beaten him again, added to the list of countless situations where he'd lost against the pigman. No one clapped for him, no cheers wrung out his name across the SMP.
Sapnap had tried consoling him but left in anger when Dream lashed out at his efforts.
"Your pride is going to be the death of you."
L'Manburg was independent. He tried once more to ambush Wilbur, to reclaim his place as the most powerful. Hell, this was his land, his SMP, he was here first.
Punz held him back. It was better to be calm than sacrifice more.
"Your pride is going to be the death of you."
They sat at the ruins of George's mushroom house. The walls were charred and black, falling apart to the touch. The roof had collapsed, leaving behind a dust cloud so thick it blackened your lungs. George's chests and items were ransacked, stolen, and hidden away never to be found. Rage was all he could feel. Who dared to mess with the king, with his George?
"You're angrier about this than I am," George placed his hands on top of Dream's. Fingers were coated with soot from the ashes, fingernails thick with grime.
"You should be enraged," he squeezed his lover's fingers. "You are the king, after all."
"And they are kids. They were probably messing around, accidentally lit a fire. I should've locked the door before leaving."
"No one messes with my things."
George raised an eyebrow, "You make me sound like a trophy you've collected. I assure you, I'm a living human being."
"No one messes with my king. You're my George, forever."
The brunet had sighed sadly, getting up and offering Dream a hand. He'd said the statement in pity.
"Your pride is going to be the death of you."
It was Dream's turn to say these words.
Tommy stood in front of him, clothes damp from the water and face wet with tears as he shoved him to the ground in the plains. Tommy's hands were trembling from a mixture of shock, fear, and betrayal as Dream collected the boy's items, exploding them with TNT.
"Pride for what? L'Manburg? Tubbo? My friends?"
"For what you've done. For what you've accomplished. You take your victories to your head, you make them into everything you know. The minute it's time to change, you freak out. Lash out and blame other people, when in reality, you're in the wrong."
"Fuck off, Dream. You don't know anything about me."
He chuckled coldly, crouching down to where Tommy sat in the grass. Grabbing the boy's chin and raising it slightly so they made eye contact, he brushed a single tear from his cheek. "I know you more than you know yourself, Tommy. Do you know why?"
"Why?" The boy's voice shook. With fear, exhaustion, or defeat, Dream couldn't tell.
"Because we are the same."