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Technoblade hasn’t thought about the Nether in months. He’d been busy with small scale war, Championships, training for the duel against Dream: his semi self-proclaimed rival. Really, that had been what everyone else was saying, Techno just simply never denied it. It certainly brought about an interesting dynamic between the two. More so since Dream was an absolute enigma. He came out of the shadows, easily taking down opponents with high prestige and skill while garnering enough power and loyalty to pull together his precious SMP. It’s been a prosperous group that has caught the attention of many. They’ve even been honored enough to have their own civil war.
Techno chuckles – thanks, Wilbur. His brother will always prove to be interesting. A lot of know how about Dream has come from Wilbur and his previously close relationship to the man. Dream’s sweet, all while being able to turn the sharp side of his blade onto you when he has no other choice. A quick thinker able to pull off insane stunts. Techno could go on and on about the things he’s found interesting about Dream.
And Tommy would tease him about a crush relentlessly. He would correct him with rivalry but Techno doesn’t think Tommy would be able to tell the difference.
The few times they’ve spoken had been reserved and under the supervision of other people. Not that they would need such a thing. Dream was able to entertain a conversation well enough. He got the feeling the other enjoyed to talk, but not in the situations he was normally thrust into. Techno could relate with the sentiment. Piglin was his first language and occasionally he still found it difficult to speak the native Overworld languages.
But Techno hasn’t thought of the Nether in months. Not until he is walking out into an arena opposite of Dream, who holds a sword instead of an axe. It looks odd on him. Dream had cultivated the battle axe into his look as much as he had the white mask covering his face. Techno tried to keep the smirk off his face. The only reason why Dream was fighting with a sword was because The Beast, the man hosting the event, thought it would be an interesting twist to make them fight with each other signature weapons every other round. The two participates had agreed. It would be good for the audience and interesting enough for the two fighters.
So, when Dream starts swinging the sword in familiar arcs and stabs, Techno is caught off guard. He is brought back to the hot, red stained Nether where fighting with a sword was his only option – where he was taught by some kinder than usual Piglins the best ways to balance a blade in his palm, to strike at his enemies.
Where he taught a scarred Overworld boy how to defend himself.
It almost his exact style. Obviously, he doesn’t fight the same as he did when he was younger, having refined those basics into something entirely him – brutal and efficient. This, the way Dream holds the sword and dodges back with light steps, is so compelling that he is opening his mouth before he can stop.
“You fight like a Piglin,” He says as the two clash with their blades vibrating against one another. Dream’s face is covered, but his body gives away enough to rat him out. He’s shocked, most likely not expecting to be called out for such a thing. Most people wouldn’t even notice such a detail, as many think Piglin have subpar battle capabilities – but they’ve just never seen it in the right hands.
Techno uses Dream stutter, where his mind reels trying to figure our how and why Techno knows this, to swing his blade around and claim this round of the duel for himself. It was greedy, but it ran a delighted tingle up Techno’s arms. All’s fair, as they say.
He won’t mention how when he returns to his prep room that his mind is running a thousand seconds over in his brain, trying to pinpoint other interactions with Dream that would give him more pieces to the puzzle he’s just unwrapped. They had been teamed together for The Championships the month before, but he’d been hyper focused on himself during that. There was little down time to observe his teammates during the actual event. Besides, Dream rarely picked the sword unless he had too during any of the games. For once, Techno cursed Dream’s secretive ways.
Little did Techno know, Dream was standing painting still in his own private room, mentally overlapping two images in his mind together. He desperately mushed them together in hopes that he wasn’t crazy, that they fit and made sense together. That the boy who saved his life wasn’t dead because of him. Was denial the reason he was so blind to the uncanny similarities before now? The pink hair, no longer dirty and chopped off at uneven angles, now long and twisted into intricate plaits. He was taller, more built than the scrawny Piglin Hybrid of his memories.
Technoblade, however, wasn’t the name Dream knew him as. Dream had struggled to learn the harsh Piglin language for months with his throat being unusable for most of it – he only ever really got the boy’s name down and that came only ever came out with a pathetic huff of air. There was no equivalent to it that Dream knew of in his native tongue. There were few words that Piglin’s had that translated easily over. It’s what made him finish learning the language and what made everyone so jealous of his luck with Piglin trades. It helped when you could ask and barter for what you wanted instead of just hoping they liked you well enough.
A bell rings, and he is walking back out to fight his next battle.
Techno learned a lot of how to fight with an axe from various sources, giving him a patch work of skills with it. This didn’t stop Dream from handing him his ass with a few precise blows. The masked Omega helps him up with an outstretched palm and as Techno uses the other as leverage to rise, he is nearly knocked off his feet by Dream speaking.
“Because I was taught by a Piglin,” The guttural words are nothing close to music, more likely to resemble rocks tumbling against each other, and Techno almost doesn’t understand what is being said to him. Dream ghosts away just as quickly as it takes for Techno to formulate a response.
Well, Dream is certainly good at getting one’s attention.
The rest of the duel goes by in a blur and it comes down to a final fight. Techno is happy with the outcome either way. The fight was fantastic and memorable, and he will come out a winner or it’s a draw. Either way, he doesn’t lose per say.
Techno hopes for a victory – for the two of them to walk away feeling fulfilled in some capacity. He suspects he’ll hunt down Dream to ask him some personal questions and Dream will dodge the inquires like an Enderman does arrows. The other had seemed shaken by something more serious than just one of his secrets being found out since Techno had denoted his sword style.
What Techno had never thought of happening was Dream faltering under a downwards swing. It makes his heart stutter and jump, before he remembers that the weapons are dulled and can’t cause damage a healing potion couldn’t fix. That doesn’t stop it from cracking against Dream’s mask and shattering the thing under the weight of his swing. Dream drops like a sack of rocks onto the ground.
Techno drops his sword like it burned him. He didn’t mean for the strike to be so heavy and brutal appearing. Dream has lost his grip on his own weapon – the thing spinning away across the ground. His hands are clutching his face and Techno doesn’t dare to lean down to help him. He feels like he has committed a taboo from which no merciful begging can save him.
Dream’s chest rises and falls in a rapid fashion. His mask lays scattered around him like rose petals on a theatre stage after the grand finale. Slowly, like the curtain falling, he lowers one hand from his face. The green orb that finds Techno is a duller color than he expected, but in a milky way that can be explained by physical trauma.
Something that Dream must be heavily acquainted with because the entire side of his face is lined with scars. They run over his eye and down to the corner of his mouth, then lead to his neck where they fade out. Techno remembers these scars like he does his own. A clarity that comes from seeing them every day, from placing ointment on them and wrapping them, from cupping the face that held them as it shed tears from the pain of healing.
A name tumbles from Techno’s lips. One bestowed upon a child because he was not able to speak his own, in a language he had hardly understood at the time. Dream lets out a stuttering breath. It activates the crowd around them – the same one Techno had forgotten was there. As they close in to congratulate him, Dream slips away like a shadow in the morning sun’s rays.
The Beast gives him his prize, but the taste is like dust on his tongue. He keeps any and all praising on a short lease and ends the interactions as swiftly as they appear. He needs to find Dream like a forest fire looking for kindling.
It’s strange to think that this isn’t an unfamiliar desire.
He’d spent months in his youth doing this exact thing, but now he had a small sapling of hope nestled in his chest. It felt like a prophecy coming to fruition. Techno finally, finally made it out of the crowds. He beelined to Dream’s prep room, hoping desperately that the other was still in there.
Luck must have been granting wishes today, because just as he gets there the door opens with a frantic looking Dream (with another mask over his face – he must keep spares) stepping through. Techno uses his larger size to body Dream back into the room with an almost feral frenzy. Dream stumbles away with a fearful scent oozing from him. It makes the Alpha feel sick; he doesn’t want Dream to fear him. Techno couldn’t let him slip through his fingers, not now, after so long –
“You’re runnin’,” Techno accuses.
“I’m told I’m good at it,” Dream fires back. Techno wishes he could see the other’s face again. He can’t stand not knowing what expressions the other is making. His scent gives away one emotion, sure, but that doesn’t tell the hybrid the whole story. Dream was back to being an enigma and Techno hated it.
“Why?” His voice shakes like a mountain before an avalanche. He hears Dream suck in a breath.
The Omega doesn’t respond, instead he tries to slip past the Alpha. Techno growls, too many different instincts yelling over each other in his mind. He can’t sift through them fast enough to convey the right way he is feeling. He watches as Dream’s inner Omega drops him. He flinches back and his shoulders pull up as he staggers away from the door. The room instantly falls deadly silent. Techno lets his gaze fall to the dirty floor and he finds his eyes settling on some loose gauze left on the dirt.
“I’m sorry,” He whispers. It’s the quietest he’s ever heard his voice go for someone else, “I just don’t get it. Why’re you tryin’ to leave?”
Dream stays hushed. His movements slow and deliberate, as if he is afraid one wrong move with set the Alpha off. In a different place with other people, it would be more justified.
“I’ve day dreamed about this more times than I can count,” Dream says softly. The fact that Techno has done the same keeps the small flame of hope in his chest alight.
“None of those went like this, really. I never would have thought – never let myself believe that it was you.” He continues, “Technoblade isn’t a name you speak in casual conversation, typically. Not unless you’re Wilbur or Tommy –”
Dream laughs but Techno can feel a frown forming on his lips. He suddenly feels like this may be disappointing for the Omega. That he is disappointing. Techno knows his reputation, the rumors, the mottos that are all associated with his name and maybe Dream is disappointed. The little Piglin Hybrid that cared for him is no more. In his place instead is just another Alpha known for being a brutal fighter and iron-fisted leader.
“I think I’m scared of being not enough,” Dream’s breathy confession barely catch his ears. Techno’s eyes fly up to meet a white mask – but instead lock with green eyes. Air traps itself in his lungs and Techno feels like he may suffocate.
Dream is beautiful, all golden hair and freckles. His face still has the same essence as when he was younger, but more mature and defined along his jawline and cheekbones. The scars healed nicer than he thought they would. Techno can’t believe a creature such as he would believe he wouldn’t be enough –
“Not enough?” Techno sounds incredulous, “The Dream thinkin’ he isn’t enough for some Piglin boy?”
Techno lets out a laugh, but this time it’s Dream who is frowning.
“You’re more than just that –” Dream’s defensive voice starts.
“I could say the same about you,” Techno counters. It puts a pause on the flow of conversation and leads to them having a stare off. Neither of them really knows what to say, because how does one produce a novel in a day? The words the two want to speak are wrapped so entirely in indescribable emotions that silence fits better than sound.
It’s how they’re used to communicating anyhow.
A knock sounds on the door, making the two fighters jump. Techno swiftly makes it to door, a palm pressed fiercely against it in case their visitor tries to enter uninvited as Dream slams his mask over his face. Dream gives a nod for Techno to open the door. He pulls the handle to reveal The Beast and Karl standing in the square frame.
“Yes?” Techno inquires. The Beast pulls one eyebrow up.
“Well, we were coming to see Dream, but I didn’t know you were here, Techno,” The man tells him. Dream wanders over to his side and it’s an intimately familiar presence.
“He just came to tell me that I put up a good fight,” Dream lies. It gets a laugh of The Beast.
“Good? That fight was incredible. You two certainly can bring in the crowds.” He compliments.
“Thank you,” Dream’s head ducks slightly. The Beast is a good man to be favored with – his word has heavy weight.
“Are you coming to the parties tonight?” Karl interjects over the other’s shoulders. Techno suspects that what they really came here to find out. Techno had no desire to attend the social events happening tonight to satiate the crowds brought in by their duel, but maybe –
“I am, Karl, you’re going to be there too?” Dream confirms. But maybe, Techno can make an exception this one time.
“Of course!” Karl beams a smile at the masked man – his friend if the way he rooted for Dream during the fight has anything to say about it.
“We will let you two get back to your thing, come on, Karl,” The Beast places a hand on his companion’s shoulder to lead the other away. Techno is grateful for the swift conversation’s end. He has unfinished business here –
Dream’s eyes are hidden, but Techno can tell he is gazing at him expectantly.
“Will you be there?” He asks, voice hopeful. Techno lets him hang on suspenseful silence for a moment.
“Hmm, perhaps, will you be a stranger again?” Techno’s baritone voice drops slightly. His question holding too many meanings to sort through quickly. Is Dream going to pretend they aren’t connected like two tangled strings in a sewing box? Would he prefer to go back to when they were simply two people passing by each other on the street? Or –
“No! Never!” Dream startles himself with how quickly the words tumble out of his mouth like a clumsy toddler learning how to walk for the first time, “I-I mean, no – I would actually like to go with you.”
Techno lets a small smile quirk his lips. He doesn’t know why this pleases him, to hear those words spoken with such passion. A thing hidden deep in his chest, maybe, that preens with the attention from the other. He’s been dealing with that feeling for a while, but he just chalked it up to his desire to be knowledgeable about the people who come in contact with his circles.
“I’d like that,” He tells him, “Maybe you can scare away Wilbur and Tommy and provide me with a peaceful night.”
Dream laughs, though it’s lined with some bitterness about the two, “I think I can do that.”
“Perfect,” Techno pushes the ajar door open more and holds it for Dream to pass through. The pair part ways with one last glance at each other.
Tonight, they’ll attend the festival taking place in the streets of the small city. They dance around each other in nostalgic ways, ghostly in their movements, and briefly terrorize the two L’Manburg leaders. Phil will get introduced to Dream properly, and he’ll sense his adoptive son’s excitement over the other. He won’t quite get it, but when he keeps his eye on the two, he’ll form his own opinion with a sly smile and a few joking prods to Wilbur’s side. Tommy will make a disgusted face over the whole thing and grumble about his brother being traitorous to their nation.
Dream will whisk Techno away from the bright lights and crowds like a Will-O-Wisp leads an unsuspecting traveler. They’ll find a quiet nook where they speak in hushed tones late into the night. Techno’s family will try to find him, but Dream has hidden them away all too well and with the night stretching on, the group will give up and return to their respective inns.
Dream and Techno will take the night in stride, but eventually, the pair grows tired. Sleep beckons them gently, separating their orbits with soft encouragements. They aren’t staying at the same place, so they’ll have to take their own paths.
They whisper one last promise to each other. Techno vows to keep it and Dream sticks out a picky for him to take. It’s childish, but comforting in its familiarity. Dream makes sure their fingers intertwine tightly, so Techno knows he means it.
Then, they walk away.