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Chapter Text

The house had always changed and grown, ever since Ranboo could remember. He watched as his brother lifted planks into place, hammered things in, carved stone walls. Change had always been a constant. He sat in front of the fire, watching the flames dance across the stone as he listened to soft music. It floated in the air like delicate ice, tinkling softly. He hummed along, the melody vibrating deep into the stone.

“Ranboo.” His brother’s voice made him look up, into a calm face, a small smile. He never looked right in his eyes, it always made him upset. “Shh. It’s making the house vibrate again.” A finger is pressed against his brother’s lips.

“Sorry,” Ranboo said, looking back into the fire. He pulled his bunny plushie closer, rubbing the end of the ear between his fingers. He felt gentle hands push through his hair, carding through it as his brother started singing along to the music.

“Are you falling asleep, Booboo?” The voice was soft, teasing. Ranboo nodded, his eyes unfocused and staring into the dancing flames. He was lifted up, up, up into the air, then held close, pressed into a warm, familiar body. “Okay, guess it’s time for bed then.” A gentle hand rubbed circles into his back, soft voice singing in his ear.

“Run through the meadow,

And there you will find,

Upon a branch oh so high,

A young little sparrow

Singing a rhyme…”

The familiar words sent Ranboo slowly tumbling into sleep, tightly held in his brother’s arms. His brother mounted the stairs, humming the lullaby until he gently laid Ranboo in his bed and pulled a warm blanket up to cover him. He gently smoothed back the black curls that hung in the small boy’s face.

Downstairs, a king knocked once, twice, three times. He had agreed to meet this ridiculous god to negotiate terms of a challenge. He’d never been in this world before, far used to the red caverns of his kingdom and the beautiful rivers of lava that flowed through. Water and greenery was new to him and he’d decided he’d do his best to limit his contact with this world.

The door opened and there stood the god in forest green. The pale white porcelain of the smiley face mask shone in the moonlight and the firelight flickering from inside. “Hello, Technoblade.” The voice was cold, distant. It was almost like the god before him didn’t truly see him as a sentient being and instead just… a tool.

“Hello, Dream.” Techno used the exact same tone and could feel Dream’s mood shift. He inclined his head. “May I come in? You’ve invited me for negotiation of the… challenge.” Disdain dripped from his voice at the mention of the challenge. It was so far beneath him to fight useless battles, even against a god.

Dream was still for a moment before stepping aside, allowing Techno into his house. Chests lined the walls, no clear indication of what they stored. Strapped to Dream’s back was a shield and against the wall leaned a giant axe, nearly as large as the god himself. Techno looked around, slowly, carefully, before sitting. Enemies could never be underestimated.

“I’m not going to attack you in my own house. I’d have to fix everything and scrub blood off the floor,” Dream said, crossing his arms as he watched Techno. The king smiled slightly, idly tracing a shape on the wooden table.

“Fair enough, I suppose. So. The challenge.” He raised eyes as dark as pitch to the blankly smiling mask. “I will offer ten battles. Every battle, the terrain changes. Whoever wins the most, wins overall.” His voice was bored, distant. He enjoyed annoying this self-proclaimed god. It was so easy to get a rise out of him - almost too easy.

“Fine. A match is won when the other concedes or is rendered unable to fight any longer,” Dream said. Techno nodded and grinned dangerously at Dream.

“Agreed,” he said. As he stood and the two shook hands, there was the soft creak of a wooden step. Techno spun around, sword drawn, to find a child rubbing his eyes and yawning. He held a large bunny plushie that was almost half his size. A tail curled around his leg, ending with a puff of black fur.

“Dre?” he said, his voice soft and barely existent. Dream scooped the child up, holding him close. “Dre, who’s the man? He has a crown, too. Just like me.” A green eye and purple eye flicked to Techno nervously before focusing again on the lower part of Dream’s mask.

“This is my friend Technoblade. He came over to talk a little bit.” Dream’s voice was soft, gentle, careful, oh so careful. He held the child with care, like he could be broken just by moving too much. The boy nodded, a small hand pressing against Dream’s mask, tracing the smile.

“Okay. Is Tech, uh, Techobade staying the night? He can, he can, um, sleep in my bed if he gots to,” he said, stumbling over the king’s name. Techno stared at the child, glancing at Dream for a moment.

“No. I was just leaving,” he said. He inclined his head slightly to Dream. “Sleep well. I will see you in three days time, at the mountain’s summit. Or you forfeit.”

Dream nodded, turning to Techno. “Understood. Whoever is the better fighter wins,” he said. The boy looked between the two for a short moment before his eyes lit up.

“My Dre fights super super good! If you win then wow! You’re super good too!” He clapped, smiling widely. His teeth were as sharp as knives, shining dully in the firelight. Dream laughed, pressing his forehead against the boy’s. Techno suddenly felt like he should not be here. He stepped back and, silently, turned and left the brothers alone in their warm house in the overworld.

***

When his brother had swept his hand over his curls, kissed his head, and told him he’d be back, Ranboo hadn’t doubted it for a second. He knew what chores he had to do (Dream couldn’t do everything on his own) and he did them as best he could. There were only three spilled buckets of milk, but Ranboo was very careful with the last two. He knew that if he did everything right, or as best as he could, they’d make a cake or, in rarer cases, cookies to celebrate.

The sun was only in the middle of the sky, hanging high overhead, as Ranboo did his best to dig up potatoes. He tried to remember what Dream had told him, how to tell if they were ready or not. He stared at the slightly green potato in one hand, then at the dusky brown one in the other. He frowned in concentration, trying to remember the rhyme he and Dream had made to remember.

“Green… is new, is newly made,” he mumbled, furrowing his brows. “Brown can be cut with a blade.” That meant the brown one was safe to be eaten. So he buried the green potato and gathered as many brown potatoes as he could, carrying them into the house. The counter was slightly shorter than he was, so he lifted the potatoes up onto it, grinning when none rolled off. He looked back at the trail of potatoes left behind and bent down to gather them. Dream would be so proud when he came home and found baked potatoes ready.

Ranboo looked around for something to stand on, quickly locating several books. He carefully stacked them before climbing on top, making sure he wouldn’t fall off. He grinned and reached for a knife. He’d watched Dream make baked potatoes so many times before, how hard could it be? He carefully split one potato open, doing his best to make it even. He smiled proudly and continued to split potatoes open, very very carefully. He remembered Dream’s words.

“Be careful, these knives are very sharp, Boo. You might not even notice that you cut yourself, okay? So be very careful.”

Ranboo grinned when he finally finished all of them. He knew that Dream would smear butter on them, along with some other vegetables, but he couldn’t remember what else Dream put on there. He frowned. Climbing down from the books, he walked over to where they kept the butter on the counter. It was away from the furnace, but that was because if it was by the furnace it would go bad. He carried it back over to the potatoes and carefully cut pieces off, dropping it into the middle of the potatoes. Now came the hard part. Putting the potatoes in the furnace and lighting it.

Dream had made sure the furnace was off before he left, and since he’d be home before night truly fell, Ranboo wasn’t worried about being cold. He stared into the dark pit of the furnace, trying to force its secrets forward. It stared back, blank and empty.

“Please tell me something?” he said, frustrated. He took a deep breath, reminding himself to stay calm. If he wasn’t calm, then he’d start feeling weird and glitchy and he didn’t want that. Closing his eyes, he tried to remember what Dream did with the potatoes. Usually the furnace was on when he put them in, but he couldn’t blame Ranboo if he put the potatoes in first and then lit the furnace, right? Right.

So he carefully piled the potatoes in the furnace and turned to go through the chests in the kitchen. He thought it lit using a… a steel? No, no, it lit using something with a steel. Something fell in the chest as he was rummaging and he paused, staring at the streak of black on the chest wall. Flint. Flint and steel. That’s what would light the furnace. He beamed and reached for the flint, pulling the small thing out. He went over to the furnace and carefully struck it once, twice, and finally it lit.

Laughter bubbled out of Ranboo and he bounced up, carefully closing the furnace door. He skipped outside, pride dripping from his smile. Now to collect the eggs, since he was sure the chickens had laid more since Dream had left. Investigating, he found he was right, and carried the ten eggs back inside. He knew Dream would be proud when he came home, he just knew it. But for now, there was still time to wait until he came back.

Ranboo knew he wasn’t allowed past the fence, for fear of him accidentally getting lost, but he also remembered a wooden path leading to a long dock that hung over water. He pulled on boots that Dream had made him (sturdy, the leather soft under his fingertips) and stepped outside. The sun was closer to the horizon now, but he estimated he had maybe an hour of daylight left. The path was easy enough to find, lined with lanterns to light the way even in the dark. He walked down the wooden path, finding comfort in how his feet hit the wooden planks below. And soon enough, he was at the edge of the dock, looking out onto an ocean.

It was so big. It stretched far past his fingertips, far past his field of vision. It was as big as the entire world. He sat down, watching as the sun sunk towards the ocean. He wondered if it would be swallowed whole. A soft sound came from his right, but he didn’t need to look to see that it was one of the creatures that was like him.

“Are you safe, little one?”

“Yes. Very safe.”

He didn’t remember where he learned the language, but it felt like it was just built into his soul. As the sun sank, he watched as the stars appeared, the enderman at his side.

“You must go home. Someone is coming. Someone powerful.”

Another soft sound, and the enderman was gone. Ranboo pushed himself up, brushing off his pants, and ran home, his tail waving excitedly behind him. As he got closer, he could see far in the distance a lantern. He bounced excitedly, almost in place, before running inside. He had forgotten about the potatoes, but he could take them out now.

It was smokey in the house. Something smelled burned. Ranboo’s heart plummeted as he ran to the furnace. Carefully, he opened the door. Black soot poured out and he coughed, covering his eyes to protect them. Pulling his hands away, he found charred masses that barely even looked like potatoes. He could feel tears welling up and, try as he might, he couldn’t push them down. So he sat, crying, as his tears burned his skin and the charred potatoes charred even more.

The door slammed open and Ranboo jumped, looking up as the tears continued down his cheeks. Dream stared at him, eyes wide, scared. Without a word, his older brother scooped him up and hugged him tightly, burying his face in a mess of Ranboo’s curls. Ranboo simply cried harder, wiping his tears away as fast as he could.

“Ranboo, what…?”

“I was, I was, I was tryin’, tryin’ to m-m-m-make baked p-p-p-potatoes for you when, when you came home,” Ranboo sobbed. “But I forgot ‘bout them and, and, and now they’re ruined, and, and, and we don’t got no dinner and, and it’s all my fault!”

Dream stared at his little brother, covered in soot and tears, then glanced at the black things that were supposed to be potatoes. He could ignore his own aches and pains for right now, because his little brother was crying. “You made them all by yourself?” Ranboo nodded, sniffling. “Wow! That’s impressive, Boo! I’m proud of you for trying, even if it didn’t turn out great in the end.” The two glanced at the furnace and Ranboo giggled.

“You, you could say it kinda, kinda went up in, in smoke,” he said, giggling. Dream wheezed, making that tea kettle sound, and Ranboo grinned at having gotten his brother to laugh.

“You’re right, Boo. Now let’s try to get all this off of you, yeah?”

Ranboo nodded, happy his brother was home finally.

Long after Dream had managed to clean Ranboo up and get him into bed, he sat by the fire to finally give attention to his wounds he’d suffered. He carefully studied the gouge deep in his leg, thankful that Ranboo hadn’t noticed the limping. He’d gotten it patched up with the help of a kind stranger named Karl, who seemed to have plenty of medical supplies and food, but absolutely nothing else. It was strange, he wasn’t going to lie. He carefully bandaged it, then turned his attention to the countless other, smaller, cuts and bruises.

Now to decide how to punish Technoblade for humiliating him. Dream stared into the flames, thinking. He heard a soft sound from outside, the sound of an enderman teleporting. An idea struck him then, violently shaking him to his core. He smiled, wicked and spiteful. Techno would have his kingdom of violence, sure. But his people will be more monstrous than Techno had ever seen. But first he had to heal, recover his strength, and, most importantly, spend time with Ranboo.

Chapter Text

The world used to be kinder. The world was kind for so long that it had been all that Ranboo knew. He ran through the flower field, shrieking happily as fluffy clouds raced above. He spun around, screaming as his brother scooped him up. Dream laughed, raising his little brother high into the air and spinning before falling into the high grass. In the distance, a herd of horses moved towards them. Dream sat up and pointed them out, leaning in close to whisper in Ranboo’s ear.

“Do you see them? They’re called horses and you can ride them.” Ranboo’s ear flicked, his eyes wide as he stared at them.

“Are they nice?” he whispered back, not taking his eyes off the mobs. Dream chuckled.

“Of course. Everything I’ve created is friendly,” he said, gently running a hand through Ranboo’s hair. The boy grinned, his sharp teeth flashing.

“I wanna go pet them.”

“Then go. But be careful not to startle them.”

Ranboo jumped up, his tail streaming behind him as he ran towards the horses. He slowed as he got closer to the horses, reaching up with wide eyes. He smiled and giggled as a black horse ducked its head down to study him. He gently pet the horse, his eyes widening at the velvety feel of its nose.

He looked back at Dream, grinning widely. “Dre!” he whisper-shouted, causing the older boy to laugh. “Lookit! We match!”

Dream walked over, making sure to move slowly and keep an eye on the horses. While he had created the creatures to be friendly, all animals were still somewhat unpredictable. He gently pet the horse too, smiling down at Ranboo. The boy laughed and kept petting the horse.

“Can we name it?” he said, looking back up at his brother. Dream smiled.

“What are you thinking?” he asked. Ranboo stared at the horse, a very serious look falling over his face. He hummed softly, echoing the song that Dream always sang him to sleep with.

“Oobnar?” he mumbled, eyebrows furrowing in thought. He shook his head and patted the dark nose. “Dre, what did you name your axe?” He looked up at Dream, waiting patiently. Dream felt his heart stop for a moment before he smiled at Ranboo.

“Nightmare.”

“Let’s name him Nightmare then!!” 

Dream laughed, nodded. He pulled a shiny red apple from the air and fed it to the horse, smiling as it nudged his hand, looking for another. He pulled another from thin air and gave it to Ranboo. “Give it to him and he’ll follow you forever,” he said. Ranboo lit up, eagerly holding the apple up to Nightmare.

Gently, oh-so gently, Nightmare ate it. Ranboo gasped, clapping excitedly. Dream picked him up and carefully set him down on Nightmare’s back. The horse nickered, tossing his head back, and then Dream was on the horse, a solid weight behind Ranboo. He carefully threaded his fingers through the horse’s mane, turning the horse and grinning down at his little brother.

“Can we go fast, can we go fast?” Ranboo gasped out, doing his best not to bounce on the horse. Dream wheezed, a smile lighting up his face.

“We can, but not right now, we need to get the horse home and I’ll make a saddle for you so you can ride,” he said. He carefully urged the horse forward, knowing if they went too fast, Ranboo might get sick, or fall, or worse.

The two rode home, Ranboo excitedly rambling about what they could do. Dream listened, letting his little brother babble. He wasn’t sure what, entirely, Ranboo wanted to do for the stable, but he could always just have Ranboo sit and watch him build it, instructing him on what to do. It would be entertaining, at the very least.

After they finally reached the house, Dream swung off Nightmare and carefully put a lead around his head. He tied it to the fence before helping Ranboo down. Ranboo stared up at the horse in awe for a moment before turning to Dream.

“Can we get more apples to feed him?” he said. Dream smiled and turned to go back to the house, but paused when he saw the door was open.

“Hey, Boo, stay here, okay? I’ll be right back,” he said, opening a hand. His trusty axe fell into his hand, heavy and solid and deadly. He didn’t know who was in his house, in their house. Slowly, he walked up to the door and pushed it open, pulling his mask down over his face. The porcelain was cold against his face, the wooden axe handle worn and smooth in his hands.

A small noise, to his right. He turned, axe up, ready to split whatever was there in half. Familiar brown eyes stared at him, an obnoxiously colored sweater of purple and a teal spiral. He lowered the axe for a moment. “Karl?” he said quietly.

“Oh, oh hi. Uh, Dream?”

“Yes?” His fingers twitched on the axe, but he held still. “Why are you in my house?”

“I, uh, I was looking for you,” Karl said. His breathing was fast, scared. Good. He threatened Dream’s brother just by being here. Dream narrowed his eyes.

“Why?”

“I wanted to, to talk to you,” Karl said, slowly lowering his hands. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a soft, scared voice.

“Dre? What… what’re you doing?” Ranboo said, gripping the edge of his white sweater in his hands. His eyes stared up at the two, wide and scared. “Is he… are you…” The small hybrid boy struggled to put the words together, his lip trembling. Immediately, the axe was gone and Dream picked him up.

“Hey, hey, Booboo,” Dream said, bouncing the boy gently. “I’m not gonna hurt him. He just scared me, okay? I was worried he’d take your stuff.” The older two also knew that Dream didn’t expect to see Karl in the house, but it wouldn’t be helpful to tell the kid that.

Ranboo nodded, sniffling as he looked over at Karl, keeping his eyes off his face. “What… what’s your name? I’m Ranboo,” he said, rubbing at his eyes. Karl couldn’t help a smile.

“I’m Karl Jacobs. Nice to meet you, Ranboo. Hey, uh, I need to talk to your brother real quick, okay?”

Ranboo nodded and squirmed in Dream’s arms, trying to escape so he could let the two talk. As his feet hit the ground, he paused and said, “Like the king man? Techo?”

Dream tensed slightly, but Karl nodded, still smiling. “Yeah, like that. Why don’t you go play with Nightmare, okay?” he said, ruffling Ranboo’s hair. Ranboo giggled, nodded, and ran outside again. Dream watched him for a moment before looking at Karl.

“Talk.”

Karl took a deep breath before looking at Dream. “Normally I don’t… I don’t do this. But… Dream, in the future…” His voice trailed off, but he shook his head and continued on. “In the future, you’re very, very different. And, and I just… I want you to remember this, okay? What would you do for Ranboo? What would you risk for him?”

“I would burn the world for him,” Dream said, immediately. “I would risk everything for him. I… I would risk losing my godhood for him.”

Karl nodded, closing his eyes. “Do you think anything at all could change that? Do you think you’d forget him?” he whispered. Dream blinked, shaken behind the mask.

“No. Nothing could ever make me forget him. Nothing will ever change that he’s my little brother.”

“Good. Just… just remember that, okay? In the future? Just remember those words. Please.”

Chapter Text

Years passed, almost too quickly to realize. Ranboo grew taller, becoming clumsy and anxious, and Dream grew too. It had been at least four years since Dream had fought Techno, three since they’d found Nightmare (Night for short), and now Ranboo was nine.

Dream laughed at the disgruntled look on Ranboo’s face, adjusting his grip on the sword. “You need to keep a good grip on it or bone will catch on the blade,” he said, showing Ranboo how to grip it. Ranboo nodded, adjusting his own grip on the wooden sword. “Now show me.”

Ranboo moved forward, doing his best to swing the sword just like Dream taught him. He brought the sword down, turning, then slashing it upwards. He looked to Dream to see if he did it correctly. Dream clapped, grinning at Ranboo.

“Good job! Soon enough you’ll be able to spar, Boo,” Dream said, messing up his hair. Ranboo grinned, bouncing.

“Awesome! Are you gonna teach me how to use an axe?” he said, looking down at the wooden sword in his hands. He’d seen Dream’s giant axe ever since he was small, never really wondering why he had it other than to kill animals to eat.

Dream paused. “Maybe one day,” he said, smiling at Ranboo. “But I don’t think you need it, not here, not in this world.”

Ranboo tilted his head at Dream, confused. “What do you mean?”

A moment of hesitation. “I guess it’s time for me to tell you a story,” he said. Ranboo followed as Dream walked back inside the house. “But, hey, Boo, can you go grab some wood? I think the fire might go out soon and we need to have enough logs for it, yknow?”

Ranboo nodded, grabbing the small iron axe from beside the door that they kept just for this. He went outside, smiling as the sun slowly set. The sky was doused in red and orange, bleeding outwards towards the ocean. Turning towards the forest, Ranboo lifted his axe. The trees towered over him, casting him in shadow as he walked deeper into the forest. Finally, he stopped at a tree, then swung the axe. It took him a little longer than he’d like to finally chop it down, but he dragged it back towards the farm.

As Ranboo walked, humming a half-forgotten lullaby to himself, he heard a soft movement to his left. He looked up and found a walking skeleton staring at him. An arrow. Shoulder. Pain shot through his shoulder. An arrow was in his shoulder. Screaming. He was screaming. Everything went black around him.

Dream stared into the fire, wondering how to explain to his little brother that he cursed an entire kingdom, an entire realm, because he lost a fight. Admittedly, now, he felt slightly bad about it, but mostly because now Ranboo wouldn’t be able to go to that realm without being hurt. His thoughts were interrupted by an earth-shattering scream.

Ranboo.

He was on his feet in seconds, his axe in hand, running as fast as possible to get to his brother, his little brother, his family, his brother. Another blood-chilling scream. Forest. It came from the forest. He turned and ran, pushing himself to go as fast as possible. A purple glow came from up ahead and he slowed, transfixed and awed and terrified.

Ranboo was floating, giant wings sprouted from his back. Purple light poured off of him and Dream could see a pile of bones, and dust, and a broken bow. Horror crept up his throat, threatening to choke him.

“Ranboo,” he said, voice shaking.

The boy looked at him, eyes completely purple, otherworldly. “Stay away. Stay away from me. Don’t hurt me!” Ranboo’s voice was there, but there was something bigger, greater, speaking those words with him. Something Dream thought he’d never hear again and it chilled him to his core.

“It’s okay, Ranboo. It’s me, it’s Dream, it’s your brother, okay? It’s me,” he said, hands up to show he had no weapons. Slowly, the hybrid lowered to the ground, the purple bleeding out of his eyes and, in a nearly blinding flash, the wings disappeared. Ranboo slumped over, unconscious and bleeding.

Dream ran forward and scooped him up, terror and worry making his blood roar in his ears. Getting back to the house was a blur, a barely existent memory, just barely an impression of emotion. The next thing he knew, he was sitting across from Ranboo, watching his chest rise and fall, his shoulder wound now packed and bandaged. Dream’s eyes fell to his hands, staring blankly at the lime green blood that coated them. It was still warm and it dripped slowly, making bile rise in his throat.

He couldn’t tell Ranboo now. He couldn’t tell him that the reason he got hurt was because of him. He was a failure of a brother and he deserved to be hated. He took a deep breath before standing. He walked over to the sink, washing his brother’s blood off his hands. He watches, detached, as lime green swirls down the drain. He was the one who hurt his brother. He had to pay for it himself.

Carefully, Dream pulled out his white hoodie, one that he wore to match Ranboo when they went to a village, and pulled out a small container of lime dye. It was the same color as Ranboo’s blood. He made sure that the water was boiling before he dropped the hoodie and dye in, watching as the white disappeared, absorbing the color of his brother’s blood. He did it. He hurt Ranboo and now he had to pay by reminding himself every day, every time he looked at his little brother. It was his fault that he got hurt.

The hoodie was hung outside to dry. He’d wash it, after, to make sure the dye wouldn’t wash out. He couldn’t let the reminder fade. He stayed up, waiting for Ranboo to wake, jumping at every small sound. There were monsters, now, that threatened his brother. And it was his fault. He was just as much of a monster.

Quietly, the sun rose. Dream was half asleep when Ranboo finally stirred, shooting up. Ranboo looked around, confused for a moment, before seeing Dream worriedly leaning over him.

“Dream? What’s wrong?” he said, pushing himself up. He flinched in pain when he felt the wound in his shoulder and confusedly touched the bandage. “Dream? What happened? Why do I hurt? Why…?”

Cold soaked into Dream’s bones. “You don’t remember?” he whispered. Ranboo shook his head, touching his temple.

“No… what…? What happened?”

“...there are monsters out there, now. They come from another realm. I… I didn’t know they were here…” A partial lie, to protect his brother. “I’m so sorry. If I knew they were then… you wouldn’t have been outside. You wouldn’t have been in danger.”

A smile. “It’s okay, Dream! You didn’t know.” Arms wrapped around his waist, hugging him tightly. Dream froze, eyes wide. A gentle hand landed in Ranboo’s hair, carding through the curls. It was his fault and he hated himself. Tears fell down his cheeks, but he stayed silent, refusing to let Ranboo know he cried.

Chapter Text

“Strike harder, Ranboo! It is trying to kill you!” Dream shouted, watching as Ranboo attacked the hay bale. “Remember what I taught you!”

Ranboo grunted, swinging the sword, slashing upward, hay spraying across the yard. He looked to Dream, panting. “I don’t know if, if I can… keep… this up.” Sweat matted his hair, dripping into his eyes. 

Dream sighed, closing his eyes. He couldn’t let his brother get hurt, not again. “Okay. Okay, we’ll take a break. Then we’re going to spar, okay?”

Ranboo nodded, walking to sit in the shade of the stable. Nightmare bent his head, nickering at him and he smiled tiredly. Dream grabbed a burlap bag, tossing a few apples to Ranboo. Gratefully, Ranboo started eating, staring out at the fields.

It had only been a few months since Ranboo had encountered the skeleton, but Dream had been drilling him nearly every day once his wound healed. There was still a scar on his shoulder, one that would probably never fade. The pink skin was stark against black fur. Dream refused to let him get more scars, refused to let him get hurt again so badly.

“Dream, what other worlds are there?” Ranboo said, breaking the silence. Dream paused, staring toward the ocean.

“Countless. There’s countless out there.” And soon there will be one more safe for you to go to.

Ranboo nodded, turning his attention back to his apple. The red skin shone like redstone. Like a warning sign. An omen.

***

Ranboo stared out his window, tail slowly swaying behind him. His black fur shone dully in the moonlight. It seemed peaceful and calm outside, torchlight flickering through the windows. He could see, in the distance, creepers and skeletons wandering. Groans from zombies echoed in the night. Downstairs, he heard the door open, then close with a quiet creak. His ears pricked up, straining.

Below, a figure in a lime hoodie passed by, a shimmering axe swinging deep into the body of a creeper before it even had time to realize the figure was near. Ranboo watched with wide eyes, a strange chill creeping up his spine. His brother was wearing armor. He never wore armor. They were safe there, at the farm. Nothing could hurt them on the property. So where was he going?

Ranboo watched as his brother tossed something up, high into the air. It hung for a moment before floating away. A sick feeling landed in his stomach and he shot up, grabbing his diamond sword his brother had given him. It shimmered with enchantments and runes carved into the blade. He hesitated, unsure of what else to bring. A soft voice whispered in his head, sounding so much like his brother.

“Armor. Dream made you armor. It’s in his room. Go.”

Ranboo didn’t question why the voice knew, but he went to Dream’s room. A bed, sheets tucked neatly. Places where his weapons usually hung were empty, strangely bare. Two armor stands stood on either side of the bed, one empty, another with impossibly clean, polished iron armor. The remaining set was just Ranboo’s size.

The voice led him carefully through the movements to strap on the armor. He didn’t question it, didn’t even pause to ask. The only words that fell from his lips were, “Where is he going?”

Silence. “To kill your other half.”

“...What?” His hands froze for just a moment, but a vague sense of urgency made him continue.

“You need to stop him. You need to save your realm.”

Confusion twisted deep inside his gut, but he just grabbed his sword and ran out the house. He moved awkwardly in the armor, but he had to find Dream, he had to find his brother. He neatly ducked countless arrows, dodged countless creepers. The voice told him where to go, where to turn. Finally, he rasped out, “Who are you?”

“I’m… I’m you. But also Dream.”

That didn’t make any sense, but he didn’t have time to question it. He’d found a hole deep into the ground that the voice urged him down, the tone frantic, far more scared than he’d ever expected. He obeyed, digging down into the dirt, into the stone. Finally, he found the ceiling of something long forgotten. This time, it wasn’t the voice that supplied the answer. It was something deep inside him that called to be seen, to be found. He dropped into the stronghold and no longer needed the voice to guide him.

Almost by instinct, Ranboo moved deeper into the stronghold. There wasn’t much light, and he was sure there were monsters around, but he didn’t encounter any. A glow came from a room ahead, and a sound that sounded strangely like home. Mumbles filled his head, but he couldn’t make out any words. Without realizing it, Ranboo stood at the edge of the portal, staring down into it. He stepped in.

The world shifted and turned around him and, when he came back, he found himself in a completely new place. Ahead of him was his brother, standing on a tall obsidian tower with his axe in hand and even higher above him was a dragon, its wings spread so wide they nearly blocked out the sky. Its head turned, suddenly, away from Dream and its massive purple eyes stared into Ranboo, almost feeling like it was studying him.

He almost forgot about his brother. Dream yelled and, with a swing that seemed far too powerful, slammed his axe into the side of the dragon’s head. Lime blood spurted out and the dragon wailed, jaw opening and purple magic firing out. Ranboo was frozen, staring at the massive beast that had spoken to him. It had called him son . What did that even mean?

He watched, horrified, frozen, as his brother swung again and again, blocking the dragon’s blows with his shield. One last swing took the dragon’s head off. Lime blood coated the ground, eyes rolling wildly, finally landing on Ranboo. He felt like half of his body was breaking away, dying, decaying, and he couldn’t help but scream in pain.

Dream startled, looking over. Horror filled his face, watching as his little brother convulsed and writhed in pain. His wings flickered in and out of existence, finally just crumbling away. Half of his fur pales, bleaching itself white. Coughing, lime blood trickled from his lips. Slowly, red mixed with the lime, staining the endstone beneath him.

“Ranboo!” He fell from the obsidian tower, uncaring of the pain that shot through his limbs. Ranboo’s eyes slowly rolled, his purple eye now faded to a blood red. “Ranboo, no, no, no, stay here, stay with me, stay awake.” Dream’s voice grew in pitch and volume, nearly manic. His hands gently lifted his brother, holding him close. Ranboo shuddered again, violently, eyes glazing over.

Dream turned and ran for the end portal, ignoring the endermen that turned and watched them fly past. Ranboo’s hand reached back, towards the endermen, towards the fallen dragon. The fur was a pale greyish white, the tips of his claws black.

“I’ve died and you have killed me. Live with your misery,” he said, voice so soft and yet all around them. Dream held onto Ranboo tighter, ignoring how his own mind whispered to him.

All your fault, all your fault, all your fault, all your FAULT.

The moment they were in the overworld, Dream summoned as much of his power as possible and teleported them home. He nearly collapsed, but managed to get his little brother into his bed. He tore off his armor, praying, hoping, that nothing else had happened to him. 

Half of him is dead and IT IS YOUR FAULT.

Dream closed his eyes, forcing the voice out of his head. He carefully pushed Ranboo’s hair out of his eyes, staring helplessly at the two horns that had just begun to curl out of his forehead. For just a moment, Ranboo’s eyes focused on Dream’s face and confusion flashed through them.

“Who are you?”

The words shook Dream to his core. His entire world went still, silent, unmoving. Blood roared in his ears. He managed a weak, helpless smile. “I’m… I’m Dream, I’m your brother,” he said, pushing his hand through Ranboo’s curls again.

“Oh.” The word was quiet and it was all it took to shatter him. Ranboo fell back into that strange unconscious state where his eyes glazed over. Dream buried his face in his hands and wept.

Chapter Text

Ranboo doesn’t remember a lot. The things he does remember he writes in his book. He has a lot of them now, so he doesn’t forget things. He doesn’t remember where he first came from, but he knows he’s been in Hypixel ever since. He stares at the portal, then the note he was given. He was invited to an SMP, but now he’s wondering if he should really join. He doesn’t know anyone there, as far as he knows, so it might be somewhat awkward. But it’ll be fine.

Taking a deep breath, he steps through the portal, his tail swaying excitedly. There’s a soft sound and then he steps out, into a new place. The grass and trees around him are comfortingly familiar (all trees and grass look the same, so it’s nice) and the area is relatively quiet. So he starts gathering things to make tools. He’s almost so involved in his task that he doesn’t hear a soft noise behind him. Almost.

Ranboo turns and finds a man in a lime hoodie and a porcelain mask watching him. He doesn’t know how he knows the man is watching him, but he knows. He’s always been good at telling when people are watching him. Hesitantly, he waves.

“Hi. I’m Ranboo.”

Silence. Then a burning arrow, right into his shoulder. Ranboo screams, grabs his meager supplies, and runs. He manages to snap the shaft of the arrow off, then zigzags through the trees, trying to lose the man behind him. This is terrifying .

Finally, he sees a line in the ground and jumps over it. There’s a church not far, so he’s assuming it’s a safe place. The man stops just before the line, his giant axe glinting in the light. Ranboo leans over, hands on his knees, panting.

“H-ha! Take that you green beast!” he says, glancing up at the man. The man is silent, still for a moment. Then he turns and leaves without a word. Ranboo watches, swallowing in air. “That was… a warm greeting.” He pats out the fire on his suit jacket and turns, unsure of where to go now.

***

Dream is angry. Why, he’s not fully sure, but old, nearly buried memories are trying to push their way back into his head. A small boy with black fur, sharp teeth, claws. A horse. A small white sweater. A song. He shakes his head to clear it of the memories, frustrated with himself. He doesn’t need to remember anything right now. He has things to do.

He disappears, reappearing in front of his home. It’s far, far, far away from the rest of the SMP. The wood is ancient and weathered, the stone covered in moss. In the back is an old stable, fallen nearly to ruin. There hasn’t been a horse there in centuries. Chickens mill around, squawking and clucking as cows moo. A dock stretches out into the ocean, empty and nearly rotten. He remembers vague nights of sitting at the end and crying for something (someone?) lost. He was so weak then. He’s glad that he wasn’t weak anymore.

The door opens easily, quietly, and he hangs his mask on the hook next to the door.

Small black hands, holding the porcelain disk, laughing. Sunshine warm on their skin.

Dream grimaces, pushing the memory out of his head. He drops a log on the fire, watching coldly as sparks fly up. He needs to work on a plan for this new person. Ranboo. A small part of him warms at the name, whispering something incomprehensible to him. He ignores it, shoving it down, down, down. He doesn’t need distractions right now.

A cloth rests on the table, still coated in blood from the last time he cleaned his axe. He doesn’t know if he even truly needs to clean it again, but he sits on the old, worn couch. The familiar motions calm him, ground him, and a plan starts to form. He, of course, needs more information on the new kid to truly finalize his plans. It doesn’t matter, though, because he knows he’s going to put the kid through hell anyway. But what is a chess piece to a god, after all? All of these pawns are for his amusement and he’s going to make sure the kid knows that.

Smiling, he walks up the stairs, glancing briefly at the closed door to his left. He hasn’t opened it in ages, hasn’t felt the urge to sit on the small bed and cry in centuries. He doesn’t plan to now.

The maps pinned to the walls of his study are starting to yellow with age. Their edges are curling inwards now, but the ink hasn’t faded since he made them. He carefully traces a path, smiling to himself.

“Let’s see what happens now…”

***

Karl paces his library, anxious. Ranboo had joined this morning and he saw how Dream chased him down. Saw how Dream threatened him. Saw the fear on Ranboo’s face. It’s so incredibly frustrating watching them, knowing how he comforted Dream after Ranboo went missing, tracking Ranboo down and sending him the invitation.

If it all goes up in flames he is going to be so. Mad. He kicks at a chair, frowning to himself. “Sorry,” he says to the chair and leans down to gather the books. An idea lights in his head, making his hands pause for a moment as he gathers the books. Words he said to Dream so long ago float back to him. Or, well, stare up at him from a page.

“Just remember those words. Please.”

They were about Ranboo. And what happened today. And, well, what would happen in the future. But he needs to talk to the Dream of now. He needs to see how much Dream remembers of his little brother. And if he’d still be willing to risk everything for him.

Chapter Text

Karl remembers the house so clearly, the flowers that Ranboo would braid together when he visited, the animals that would peacefully graze. He used to like visiting the two brothers, having Ranboo run up to him with chains of flowers and a happy smile. Dream never totally warmed up to him, not back then. But that’s fine. He needs to talk to him anyway.

The house now has no flowers in the yard, just grass that reaches his waist. It sways gently in the wind and he can hear chickens somewhere nearby. The door is warped now, no signs of the happy home it once was. Dried blood is smeared across the once-painted walls and Karl cringes back, knowing it came from no monster. Well. It depends on your definition of monster. The kitchen is empty, the furnace long cold and empty, a mostly forgotten block of knives sitting on the counter, covered in dust. There’s a cup next to the sink, two faded handprints on it that are too small to have ever belonged to Dream. As he walks up the stairs, the steps creak and groan. Some look far too dangerous to even consider stepping on, so he skips them.

At the top of the stairs, Karl pauses and tries to ignore how his heart twists painfully. Ranboo’s door is closed, the dust next to it undisturbed. Without hesitation, Karl opens the door, taking a deep breath that could never prepare him. The room is exactly as it was when Ranboo went missing all those years ago, when Dream first fell into his arms sobbing and crying.

(Dream’s face had been bloody, bruised, his eyes red and puffy. He shook uncontrollably and his voice was raw and hoarse from screaming for so long. He ran shaking hands through his hair and sobbed out, “Where did he go?! Where’s my brother?!”

Karl couldn’t tell him, he didn’t know at the time, he didn’t know Dream had a brother, but he held him and told him it would be okay, that they’d find him, that he’d be safe. Dream wept and held onto a bunny plushie that looked old and worn and adored. He’d never seen the god so broken and he never would again.)

The cover is pulled up neatly against the bed, the blankets faded with age and dust and sun. A set of iron armor is in the corner, only ever worn once. An axe rests next to it, a name carved into the wooden handle, a smiley face carved into the metal of the blade. A bunny plushie sits against the pillows, missing one of its button eyes. The floor is covered in a layer of dust and Karl knows if he goes to the chests, the things there will similarly be coated. His heart breaks, sending him to his knees.

“What are you doing here?” Dream’s voice is hard, sharp, cold. But it has a scared edge to it, and Karl knows he’s deliberately not looking into the room.

“I was wondering if you remembered anything about this room, but… I guess I have my answer now,” he says, voice catching in his throat. He stares at a picture on the nightstand, the glass cracked. Dream, smiling for once, holding a small void with a purple and green eye. The boy’s mouth is wide in a grin, his teeth sharper than a toddler’s should.

“I… The door was closed for a reason. You shouldn’t be in here.” A hint of panic now, buried under the faux anger. Actually, it could very well be real anger, but Karl doesn’t care. He stands and wheels around, serious for once.

“Dream, you closed the door because you wanted to forget! You wanted to forget that you could be hurt! You wanted to forget about the hurt! I have a question for you, Dream. Was it worth it?” The air has been sucked out of the room. Karl does his best to glare at Dream, to glare into the bright green eyes he knows are behind that damned mask.

“Was it fucking worth it, Dream? Was cutting off your stupid fucking attachments worth forgetting your brother ? Your little brother ? Because I remember, Dream. I remember visiting you two. I remember wearing flower crowns and carrying your brother on my shoulders. I remember you freaking out every time he tripped or stumbled or fell a little too hard while playing. I remember watching you teach him how to swing an axe to split a skull when he was nine because you were terrified he’d be hurt.

“I remember you carrying him after the accident. The accident that you caused! That you set in motion! Do you remember why your hoodie is lime green? Do you? Because I do! I remember asking you! I remember how you told me, in the quietest of voices, with all the shame in your soul, that it was because you hurt your brother and that it was a reminder that you hurt him and that his blood was on your hands . Do you remember that? No! Of course not! Because you locked all of the memories away the day he went missing!”

Karl is breathing hard, tears running down his cheeks. His anger is choking him now, unable to yell anymore, unable to continue on his tirade. He wipes at the tears, huffing and turning away from the silent, indifferent porcelain mask. “He’s back, you know. I’ve been looking for him, ever since he left. I finally found him in the Hypixel arenas. He’s learned from you, you know. He’s amazing.” He can’t help the pride in his voice. He knows he can’t take credit for it, nor can Dream take full credit, but the boy they both technically raised has grown to be strong and incredibly capable of holding his own in a fight.

“Have you seen him fight?” Dream’s voice is soft, strained, wavering at the end. “Is he… is he really…?”

Karl nods. “He’s ruthless. He could kill a god, if he truly tried.” He sits, leaning against the footboard of the bed. “He’s one of the best there, in the arenas, you know.” He smiles at Dream, tired.

Dream sits next to him and, for the first time in years, unclips his mask and sets it down next to him. Karl studies that familiar yet completely foreign face, the cloudy eye that was once poison green, the scars running across his cheeks and nose, the pale white starburst scar on his temple. “Do you think he remembers me?”

“No. Do you remember him?”

“...no. Not yet.”

“You will. One day.” You have to. Please, you have to remember. Or else… or else everything will be ruined.

Chapter Text

Ranboo shakes his head, trying to push the voice out of his head. It always pops up at the worst times, always whispering in his mind about things. He can’t remember hearing it before this server, but his memory has never been great. Then again, the voice claims it’s always been there, always watched him and looked out for him. He doesn’t know why now, of all times, it’s made itself apparent.

“Watch out, behind you, someone’s following.”

“Who would follow me? I’m in the tundra and Techno’s house is over there, what sort of person would follow me?” He can’t keep the annoyance out of his voice. A grass block is suddenly in his hands and he doesn’t know exactly where he got it. The voice in his head sighs, so much like a soft breeze at night.

“Who is the one person not scared of Technoblade?”

The question makes him stop, icy terror trickling down his spine. The snowy hills and trees stretch around him, giving no hints or clues. He turns, his eyes scanning the forest around him, trying to pick out a lime green hoodie, a purple axe, a white porcelain mask. His fear starts to choke him and he takes a deep breath to try and calm down when he feels a cold blade press against the soft skin of his throat.

“Hello, Ranboo,” Dream whispers in his ear. Ranboo goes completely and utterly still. The masked hunter laughs humorlessly, no tea-kettle wheeze in his throat now. “I’ve been looking for you since we blew L’Manburg to hell. I’ve finally found you.”

Ranboo swallows, breathing rapid and shallow. “What… uh. Why are you… why were you looking for me?” he says, voice pitching upwards at the end.

Dream doesn’t answer for a long moment. “I got a tip from a little someone that I should keep an eye on you. Do I have a reason to, Ranboo?” His voice is cold, colder than the snow and wind and ice around them.

“No! No, no, uh, no reason to watch me, Dream, none at all, no,” he says, breathless and scared. “I’m harmless, I swear! I, I, I…”

“Good.” The axe falls away and a hand lands on Ranboo’s shoulder, turning him. The porcelain mask stares down at him, indifferently smiling at the terror in Ranboo’s eyes. “Let’s take a little walk, yeah?”

Ranboo knows it’s a command, not a suggestion, but he nods quickly anyways. Dream turns and starts walking, leaving Ranboo to trail after him. He nearly stumbles in his fear, but he follows quietly behind the older man. He can taste blood in his mouth, but he knows it’s just from fear. There’s no actual blood in his mouth. He thinks.

“Run through the meadow

And there you will find…”

Ranboo shakes his head a little, trying to get rid of the voice. He doesn’t want Dream to take notice of it, though, so he can’t completely get rid of the voice.

“Sing. You know the words. Sing along, Ranboo. Come on.”

Ranboo frowns. “Shut up,” he whispers, his tail lashing in annoyance.

“What was that?” Dream’s voice makes Ranboo jump.

“I, uh, um, my- my brain is telling me to, uh, to sing a song but…”

The porcelain mask turns to him, almost like Dream is staring him down. “Go ahead. Sing.” It’s a challenge. A test. Ranboo knows it is, but he doesn’t know how to play this game, much less win. So he opens his mouth and starts singing.

“Run through the meadow,

And there you will find,

Upon a branch oh so high,

A young little sparrow,

Singing a rhyme…”

Ranboo can feel Dream’s eyes on him, boring straight into his soul. He knows he’s shaking, trembling like a leaf, but he doesn’t know what else to do, so he keeps singing. The voice is nearly screaming with glee, sounding far too much like Dream celebrating the fall of L’Manberg for his comfort.

“And the little sparrow sang:

‘Oh little soldier boy, 

Don’t run away,

Lest ye hang from the gallows...’”

Ranboo wasn’t sure if those were the words, but they’d stopped walking and Dream was still, unmoving. He almost seems like he’s not breathing. So finally Ranboo falls silent, the voice still screaming in glee. He takes a nervous step back, wringing his tail around his hands.

“How do you know that song?” Dream’s voice is hoarse and rough, like he was crying. Ranboo flinches when Dream places a hand on his shoulder, his grip tight. “Where did you hear that song?”

“I… I don’t know, it’s just… been in my head for as long as I can remember,” he says, raising his arms up to protect himself. He doesn’t know what good it would be, but he can’t think of anything else to do.

Dream is silent and still for a long moment before suddenly pulling Ranboo in tight against his chest. His arms hold him tight and a hand buries itself in Ranboo’s dual-tone curls. Ranboo freezes up, unsure of what’s happening. He can feel the porcelain mask touching his temple and the man holding him is shaking. What did he do?

***

How did Ranboo know that song? Dream had only ever sang it for one person, to one person. Not even George and Sapnap knew that song. Memories flashed through his head, a small boy with black fur, singing along with him on his shoulders. He can’t help but reach out and hug Ranboo as tight as he can, a substitute for the small boy he remembers.

“Uh…”

The soft, scared sound makes Dream pull away. Ranboo looks frantic, nearly in tears. He doesn’t know how to make Ranboo calm down, so he does the only thing he can to show he can be trusted. He unclips the porcelain mask and lets it fall into the snow at their feet. Ranboo’s eyes go wide, shock glimmering deep in them.

Dream stares at Ranboo, studying his face. “I’m not going to hurt you. Now tell me, who sang that song to you?” He has to know, he has to know who sang it to him, it might be his brother. His little brother, the fighter, the warrior he hasn’t seen in centuries.

Ranboo shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s just… been in my head forever. Ever since I first started in Hypixel.” The word catches in Dream’s head, nagging at a memory from not so long ago.

(“He’s back, you know. I’ve been looking for him, ever since he left. I finally found him in the Hypixel arenas. He’s learned from you, you know. He’s amazing.”)

Dream is silent for a long moment. “Do you know how long you’ve been in Hypixel?”

“Not… not really. Far too long, I guess. I managed to finally get to the tops of the leaderboards recently. That’s when I got my invitation, yknow, to the SMP.”

Dream nods, looking off into the distance for a long moment. The birds have started singing again. He leans down and picks up the porcelain mask. He runs his thumb over the smile, then looks back at Ranboo. He makes a decision before he can think too much about it.

“I’m going to give you coordinates in three days. Go to them.”

He clips the mask back on, turns, and leaves Ranboo there. The boy won’t die today. If he has anything to say about it, the boy won’t ever die on this server. He won’t let his little brother die on his own server. Not again. Never. Again.

Chapter Text

Ranboo stares at the coordinates on the screen of his communicator. He doesn’t know how Dream knew how to contact him, but he guesses it’s just one of his skills as the admin of the server. Exhaling quietly, he pulls his cloak around himself tightly, walking briskly towards the nether portal. It’s the easiest way to travel quickly, since the overworld is so much larger than the nether.

Ranboo unclasps his cloak as he steps through. He can’t stand the heat, especially not with the cloak. He knows the coords Dream sent him are to the south of L’Manburg and then to the west. It’ll definitely take a while to get there, so he’s thankful that he managed to get so much food in his inventory. He ducks a blast from a ghast, then starts running. He should have enough obsidian to build at least four portals. Hopefully he won’t have to. He glances at the coords again and shudders at how far out they are.

When did Dream have the time to go 40,000 blocks from spawn? What’s even there? Why does Dream, of all people, want him to go there?

There’s only one way to find out. Besides, he doesn’t exactly want to upset Dream. He also doesn’t want to die.

In the end, Ranboo only has to build three portals to get there. He steps out of the last portal and pauses at the open fields stretching around him, a building not far in the distance. Next to the building (a house?) is a forest, stretching up into tall mountains. On the other side is a dock and the ocean, stretching out farther than Ranboo can see. He pulls out a compass, startled to see that the dock stretches out towards the SMP. The fields around him are wild and almost untamed. A path winds towards the building, overgrown and nearly gone.

Ranboo takes a deep breath to calm his nerves before following the path. He can see skulls and old bones lining the path. Something tells him not to risk stepping off it. The building is closer now and it is a house. Paint is peeling off the sides, but he can tell that it was some sort of pale color, maybe white. The window shutters, however, are clearly green, the only thing that still really holds any trace of the original color. Fences still stand, encircling plots of farmland and chickens, deep in the grass. He can’t tell if there’s anything planted in the farmland, so he steps closer to see, resting a hand on one of the fence posts. Splintered wood bites a little into the skin of his palms.

“Go in.”

“Into the field or the house?” Ranboo waits patiently for the voice to say something again, but it doesn’t. So he climbs over the fence and lands carefully on the other side. He glances back at the fence and pauses, studying one of the slats. On it is carved, in blocky letters, “I love you - D.” He doesn’t know who it’s addressed to, but he can safely guess that Dream carved it. His fingers carefully trace it, his gaze dropping to the bottom slat. There, in sharp letters, is carved, “My big brother is the bestest brother.”

The world stops. Those simple words stare at him, old and worn and so painfully innocent. He drops to his knees, leaning closer to the slat. His tail slowly wraps around him, grounding him. Who carved those words? Was it Dream? Was it someone else? Was it someone who was manipulated, or did they really, truly believe the words?

“What are you doing?”

Dream’s voice snaps Ranboo out of his thoughts and he jumps violently, looking up. The porcelain mask stares down at him, the smile so terribly cold. Ranboo twists his hands together, wondering if he should lie. “There’s something carved here,” he says instead, the truth falling from his lips like rain in a storm.

Stillness for a moment, then Dream is over the fence too, touching the carved words with almost awe. Ranboo leans away from him for a moment, nervous and scared. This man could easily kill him and honestly, he has no clue why he hasn’t already. They’re both silent and still for a few more minutes, Ranboo’s stress and anxiety just increasing.

Finally, Dream stands. He looks down at Ranboo, then walks away, towards the house. Ranboo jumps up, quickly following. He’s reasonably sure that Dream wants him to follow, so he follows. They walk through a door that leads into a small kitchen that’s almost unbearably cold. Techno’s house is far warmer and he lives in the tundra , so there’s no excuse for this house to be so cold. Dream stops by a furnace, crouching down to light it. A faint sense of déjà vu tickles Ranboo’s brain, but he quickly pushes it away.

“There’s potatoes in that chest. Grab a few for me.” The command is short, lacking any bite, but Ranboo jumps nonetheless. He quickly gathers a few and places them on the counter. Dream pulls a knife from a block in the corner, washing it off before turning back to the potatoes. Ranboo watches as he quickly prepares them, butter and cheese and chives on top. Then they’re in the furnace.

A soft sigh, then a click. Ranboo looks up at Dream, his eyes falling just below Dream’s. Wait. Dream’s eyes. Ranboo startles suddenly, looking away, which gets a strange chuckle. “I already told you I wasn’t going to hurt you.” Dream walks past him, hanging the mask on a hook by the door.

“A forest green cloak should be there with it.”  

Ranboo ignores the voice and hesitantly follows Dream into a living room. There’s an old, sagging couch with a soft looking blanket thrown over the back and a rocking chair with pillows on it. “I never took you for the rocking chair kinda guy,” he says without thinking. He freezes up, cursing himself silently. Why did his mind have to run off now?

A teakettle wheeze and Ranboo looks towards the couch, where Dream has plopped down. “I’m not. I don’t remember where I got it, but it’s just kinda stayed,” he says, glancing at the fire. Ranboo nods hesitantly, sitting on the other end of the couch.

“Oh. Well… uh… why? Why am I…,” he gestures around them, “why did you invite me here?” He looks over at Dream, who’s staring into the flames. It still doesn’t completely register that Dream has taken his mask off twice with him. One of his eyes is a forest green, the other is pale and milky with a scar running down his cheek and almost to his throat. He wonders where Dream got it.

“I’m going to tell you a story. And no. You can’t ask questions until the end.” A bitter smile twists his face at the last word. Ranboo doesn’t understand why he looks so sad, but he nods slowly, settling down and pulling a pillow into his chest.

Chapter Text

“There was a godling. He could create worlds and creatures and anything he could imagine. He created his own world, just for him, and built a house. He planted potatoes and wheat and anything else he could think of, and began exploring his world. He went along this way for years, until one day he found a baby. The child was wrapped in blood-stained rags and cried purple and green tears.

“The godling was in awe. He’d never seen a child before and so he picked him up and ran all the way home. The god tried to bathe the child and found that water burned him. So he developed a potion that could clean him, but that came later. He fed and clothed and loved the child. The first time he saw the child smile, his heart melted and he swore he’d always protect him.

“The child grew. And as the child grew, the godling’s power grew too. He found, one day, a new dimension far below the overworld, a massive city of violent inhabitants, ruled over by a blood-thirsty king. The king and the godling met and the king challenged him. Ten battles. If the king won, he was granted immortality. If the godling won, he could close the dimension off forever. The godling wanted to protect his little brother from the violence and so agreed to the challenge.”

Dream falls silent, staring into the fire again. He glanced up at Ranboo, who’s listening intently with wide eyes. Ranboo makes a zipping motion with his hand, like he’s zipped his mouth closed. Dream can’t help a smile.

“The battles were violent. In the end, the king won and the godling granted him immortality, then stumbled home. He ran into a man in purple before he got home and the man bandaged him well and sent him on his way. When he came home, he found his brother covered in soot and tears from attempting to make potatoes all on his own. The brothers made more and finally the child fell asleep. The godling left him sleeping and went into the other dimension.

“The godling cursed the people there to be monsters. Their forms twisted and rotted and snapped. Some became the living dead, others became beings of fire, still others could explode. The monsters ran rampant through the city and even the king had been transformed. But he retained his memories and his mind due to his won immortality. He swore to kill the godling, but he had left to go back home to his brother.

“Years passed and they were happy. The godling had begun teaching his little brother how to fight, a quiet voice in the back of his head worried if the boy were to ever go to another world. The boy finally asked about other worlds and… the godling agreed to tell him. He sent the child out for wood first, foolishly believing the other dimension would have never opened. But his brother was injured and he found that the child he raised was a protector of the End, a dimension where a dragon lived with endermen.

“His brother’s blood was on his hands. He had caused the injury, by creating the monsters, by sending his brother out to get wood, by being ignorant. He dyed his clothes the color of his brother’s blood to remind him forever of what he did and he resolved to be better, for his brother. He decided that the best thing to do, to protect his brother, was to kill the dragon in the End. His logic…”

Dream’s voice finally shakes. He wipes at his eyes, ignoring the tears. He stands to get the potatoes from the furnace, carefully placing three each on two plates. He sits back down, handing Ranboo a plate. Ranboo quietly takes it, glancing between Dream and the potatoes.

“His logic was that if he killed the dragon, then his brother would have nothing to protect, and would never leave?” he says quietly. Dream nods. “And if his brother never left… then… he’d never be hurt again?”

“...yeah. The logic was, of course, faulty. His little brother followed him to the End, witnessed the death of the dragon, and half of him died with it.” Dream’s throat is rough, scratchy. He knows his voice is hoarse, he knows tears are running down his cheeks. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes to continue the story. Then, he feels an arm press against his. He opens his eyes, surprised, and looks down to find Ranboo pressed against him, quietly eating the baked potatoes on his plate. The enderman hybrid glances up nervously, then back down to his plate. Dream is still for a long moment before finally leaning into the touch.

“The godling did his best to take care of his brother, but the boy forgot so often who he was and where he was. One day, when the godling came back from a hunt… he found his brother gone. He searched as far and wide as he could for him, trying to track him down before he got hurt or died. But finally, he realized he was too late. His little brother was gone forever. So he wept and screamed and mourned. Finally he closed the door to his brother’s room. He locked the memories away inside and left them to be buried in dust.”

Dream finally finishes, taking a bite of his now cold baked potato. He expects to hear something from the boy next to him, so when he doesn’t, he glances down. Ranboo’s head leans against his shoulder, his eyes glazed over and the pupils so small he can barely see them. It’s familiar and he smiles slightly at the memory of a much smaller version of Ranboo curled in his lap with the same glazed eyes.

He sets his plate on the table and, careful not to wake Ranboo up, lifts him. It’s far more awkward to carry this gangly 6’7 teen than the nine year old he remembers. Then again, he’s stronger now. He manages to open the door to Ranboo’s room and hesitates for a moment. The dust is gone, wiped and swept away. He sighs and gently sets Ranboo on top of the blankets on the bed, then pulls the old, worn comforter over him. Dream reaches for the bunny plushie, leaned up against the lantern next to the bed, hesitates, then puts the plushie next to Ranboo. At the door, he turns to look in. The remaining button eye reflects the light of the lantern, black and white hands hold onto the soft fur. Dream smiles.

His brother is home.

Chapter Text

Ranboo knows when he woke up that he and Dream had to talk. He doesn’t remember any of the things Dream mentioned, but he supposes they must have happened. At least, if he really was Dream’s brother. Or would it be is? Are they still brothers? Or are they just… people who were once family? It makes his head hurt.

“Do you want to still be his family? Techno and Phil are waiting for you. Tommy and Tubbo have been hurt by him. Do you really want to be his brother?”

Ranboo frowns at the voice, but it has a point. Does he really want Dream to be his brother with all of the pain and suffering he’s caused on this server? He stands, running a hand through his mussed up hair. Maybe there’s a brush somewhere that he can use to tame it. The stairs creak loudly as he walks and he can hear someone moving around downstairs. He pauses at the foot of the stairs, glancing around.

The fire in the living room is small, like it was just stoked. The kitchen is brighter ( “And warmer.” ) now, something cooking in the furnace. There’s a steaming mug on the counter. The mug has tiny versions of his handprints on it, both dark against the pale clay of the mug. He steps into the kitchen, crouching to see what’s in the furnace.

“I’m making mutton for lunch later.” Dream’s voice still causes him to flinch badly. He looks up at him. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Oh, it’s, it’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Ranboo says, smiling uncertainly. He gets a smile in return, one that’s small and feels far too genuine for Dream. A hand lands in his hair, messing it up even more.

“Great. I’ll get us back to society later, I have a few things I need to check on and you can get your stuff so you can move in.”

The assumption that Ranboo will just move in makes his skin feel weird, almost itchy. He looks down, unsure of how to approach it. He clears his throat, then swallows the words. He can feel Dream’s eyes turn to him.

“...you do want to move in, right?” His voice has taken on an edge, one that’s not quite sharp but definitely dangerous.

“I, uh, well. I, I, I still have questions,” Ranboo says, standing and fidgeting with his hands. He’s scared. He’s scared of his older brother. A motion catches his attention. Dream is leaning against the counter, ankles and arms crossed.

“Ask.”

The word is a command, so Ranboo lets the questions spill out. “Why’d you hurt Tommy so badly? Why do you need control so badly? Why do you think I’m just going to move in and abandon my friends? How do I know you’re telling the truth? You’ve lied before and you… you killed me, y’know? How do you know I’m your brother? Why not Tommy, or Tubbo?” His jaw closes with a click and he looks down, ears flattening against the sides of his head. He doesn’t dare look up at Dream.

A soft sigh. Then, “Let’s start with the easiest questions. I know you’re my brother because of that song. I… I only ever sang it to my brother. And you said you didn’t remember who or where you heard it. And Karl said that he tracked my brother down, not someone who could be my brother, so it had to be you.” Ranboo’s brow furrows.

“Wait, where, where does Karl come into this?” he says, looking up at Dream. Dream hesitates for a moment, running a hand over his face.

“Fuck. Okay. Uh… He’s a time traveler. As far as I know, I’m the only one who knows he is, besides him and, well, now you,” he says, shrugging. Ranboo stares at Dream for a long, long time.

“He’s a what now ?”

“Time traveler. Yeah, yeah, I know, I was confused too, but… he saw you grow up too. He helped me when I was hurt in my fight against Technoblade. And, like, I can’t exactly stop him.” Dream shrugs.

Ranboo leans against the counter, pressing a palm to his temple. It makes sense, he guesses. Karl was never truly involved in what happened on the server, always kept his distance from everything. But this… wasn’t what he expected. He just motions for Dream to go on.

“As for the truth, well. I guess you can’t trust anyone. But… I have some old pictures. Courtesy of Karl, of course, but they’re before the accident.” Dream looks away, like he’s guilty. Ranboo doesn’t understand how that could make him guilty, of all things.

“What about Tommy? What was that about?” He knows his voice is cold and unforgiving, but he doesn’t care.

Dream flinches and he sighs. “I guess you have a right to be angry about that. I… fuck. I saw Tommy as the, uh. The root of all the issues on the server. And if I could bend him to my will, make him behave, then the rest of the server would fall in line and I’d…” Dream trails off. Ranboo stares at him, horror and revulsion swirling in his stomach.

“You’d what?” he says. “You’d what, Dream?”

Dream growls, turning to face Ranboo. Their eyes meet and hold each other for long seconds. “I’d finally fucking have a family again. I’d be a big fucking brother again and I’d be able to take care of everyone on the fucking server, okay? That’s why. I know I fucked up, okay, Boo? I know its un-fucking-forgivable. I just wanted my fucking family back and this time, it would be bigger than just you, me, and Karl, okay?”

Ranboo stares at Dream. “You manipulated a child because you wanted a family ? Dream, what the fuck? ”

Dream runs a hand through his hair, finally breaking eye contact. “I know, Ranboo, okay? I know. ”

Ranboo shakes his head, pushing away from the counter. “I can’t stay here, Dream. That’s disgusting. You disgust me, Dream. I… I was actually happy that I might find something out about my family. I was happy to know that I at least had family. But if it’s you, then… I’d rather have no one.”

Dream is silent for a long moment, staring at the floor. He takes a deep, shaky breath. “That’s fair,” he says. “Is… there any way I can… make it up to you?” He looks up from the floor and Ranboo freezes at the sight of actual tears on his cheeks.

“...apologize to Tommy. Return the discs. Turn yourself in and tell Sam to lock you up. Then I’ll forgive you.” He stares Dream down. “Only then will I even think about forgiving you.” Dream’s eyes stare into Ranboo’s, the seconds stretching into years. Finally, a nod.

“Okay,” Dream says, pushing off the counter. “But only for you. You’ve… grown into a better person than I ever could be.”

Ranboo’s ear twitches, his eyes narrowing. “I know.” He turns, grabbing his bag and lifting it over one shoulder. “I’ll visit you. In the prison. It’s the least I could do.” He’s gone in a flash of purple particles and Dream is left standing alone in his kitchen.

He leans against the counter again, staring at the floor. If he really wants his brother back, he’s going to have to do a lot more than just telling him stories. But he’s willing to do anything for Ranboo. He’d burn the world to ashes if Ranboo asked.

Chapter Text

Ranboo admits, he likes the snow a little more than rain. It’s prettier, quieter. It reminds him of home, with Techno and Phil. He knows the older two don’t exactly trust him, but he appreciates them letting him stay with them. The cold seeps into his bones like it’s an old friend and he smiles, watching the snow fall gently. As he approaches Techno’s house, he sees footprints all over, far more than usual.

Worried, Ranboo climbs the stairs and knocks, gently opening the door. Philza is leaning over a table, obviously exhausted. He barely stirs. “Phil? Phil, what’s going on?” Ranboo says, voice scared. Phil’s head shoots up, eyes widening.

“Fuck, Ranboo, where have you been?! We were scared that-” He cuts himself off, pushing his chair back as he walks over to Ranboo. “Are you hurt? Where did you go? Did Bad get you?” His hands cup Ranboo’s cheeks, turning his head this way and that, checking him over for injuries.

Ranboo shakes his head, gently pulling Phil’s hands off his face. “I’m fine, I’m fine, I was just…” He hesitates, unsure of what to say. “I was just with Dream, is all. What, what do you mean, about Bad?”

Phil frowns, confused and worried. “Hold on, I need to let Techno you’re safe, he’s out looking for you right now.” He pulls out his communicator, typing away on it. He finally looks up. “Okay, why were you with Dream? What did he want?”

Ranboo looks away, awkwardly shifting his weight. “Can… we maybe sit and wait for Techno, first? I don’t really… know how to explain it all and I’d like to be able to tell you both at the same time.”

Phil nods a little, steering Ranboo over to the chairs by the fireplace. The fire is bigger than the one at Dream’s house, far more welcoming. Ranboo fidgets with his hands, glancing up at Phil, who’s carefully looking him over.

“Did he hurt you?” The words are sharp, direct. Ranboo nearly flinches.

“No. Well. I don’t know. It’s… it’s weird. I don’t… really know.” Ranboo shrugs a little, helplessly confused. Phil’s eyes narrow and he nods a little, turning his attention to the fire. His sword is in his lap and he’s carefully tracing the runes on the netherite blade. Ranboo watches silently, finding the silence comforting, if a little tense.

It only takes a few minutes for Techno to walk in. He’s breathing hard, like he ran all the way home. His cloak drags behind him, his crown perched carefully on his head. “Ranboo? Phil? You’re both okay?”

Ranboo nods, looking up at Techno. His eyes find a spot right between Techno’s, seeming like he’s making eye contact with him. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he says. Techno huffs, unclipping his cloak from around his shoulders. He wraps it carefully around Ranboo, sitting next to him.

“Talk. Why were you with Dream? Where were you?”

Ranboo stares into the fire, mouth twisting a little. “Techno. Do you remember where you came from?” He glances at him, then looks back into the flames.

“...yes. Why?”

“Dream, uh… he told me. About… about a godling, a king, and… and a child.”

Techno frowns, slightly confused. “Why would he…?” He looks at Ranboo and pauses at the silent tears falling down the enderman hybrid’s skin. “Ranboo…? What did he tell you?”

“Techno, Phil… he’s… he’s my brother. I… he… he found me, as a baby, and, and took care of me and, and raised me and… Techno, I’m so so so sorry for what he did to you. He had no right to do that, he… I just…” Ranboo finally breaks off, a soft sob escaping him. “I thought maybe… maybe one day I’d find my family but not like this. I don’t want him to be my brother, he… he hurt you, he hurt Tommy, he hurt so many people… he, he hurt me. He’s… he’s the reason I have memory problems, he killed my other half, thinking that if he killed the dragon, then… then I’d never leave, I’d never be hurt but he damaged me irreparably.” Ranboo wipes at the tears on his cheeks, trying his best to get rid of them before they burn and scar.

Techno stares in shocked silence at the boy. Finally, gently, he pulls Ranboo close, a hand on the back of Ranboo’s head, carding through his hair. He remembers, vaguely, when the fingers were long and thin and delicate, but now they’re tipped with keratin, short and stubby. He hums for a moment. “I remember when I first saw you. You were so small. Just standin’ there, on the stairs and watchin’ me and Dream. You had this bunny plushie that was almost as big as you. You offered to let me sleep in your bed, because you were worried I didn’t have a place to sleep. You… you brought out the best in Dream. He was so careful and gentle with you.” Techno looks down at the still crying boy. “You were his entire world, Ranboo. I saw it the moment he picked you up. He never would’ve hurt you on purpose. I know those are empty words, but… it’s true.”

Ranboo sniffles. “Still, he’s hurt so many people. I don’t want him to be my family,” he whispers. Techno smooths his hair down.

“I know. I know. You’ve got us, now. You’ve got us.”

Slowly, Ranboo falls asleep. Techno looks up at Phil, who raises an eyebrow. “Ranboo and Dream are brothers?” he says, some surprise in his voice. Techno nods a little. “How… how did neither of you recognize the kid? He’s kinda one of a kind, you know.”

Techno huffs. “Well, when I saw him he was all black with a purple eye instead of red, so. Maybe that’s it, Phil. And Ranboo said Dream killed half of him so, I guess that’s why he’s so weird now. I dunno why Dream wouldn’t recognize him, maybe he’s forgettin’ stuff too.” His ear flicks. “But can you help me get this kid to a bed? He’s kinda big.”

Phill sighs and stands to help Techno maneuver Ranboo into a bed.

***

Dream absently fidgets with the discs, leaning against the wall. He doesn’t understand why Tommy built his house out of dirt, but who’s he to judge. Oh, who’s he kidding, he thinks its stupid. He glances up when the door opens. Tommy is walking backwards, talking loudly to Tubbo about something. Tommy doesn’t see him. Tubbo does. The smaller boy freezes, going pale.

“Tommy.”

“What, Tubbo, why’d you interrupt me? I was talking! You’re so fuckin’ rude, Tubbo.”

“Tommy, turn around.”

“What? Why?” Tommy sounds annoyed, but turns around anyway. He locks eyes with Dream and screams. “OI oh fuck! What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck! Tubbo why didn’t you just say something?!”

“I did!! Tommy, do you have a sword, oh my god, we’re gonna die!”

Dream rolls his eyes and pushes himself off the wall. “Calm down and listen to me.” The two continue screaming almost incoherently, ignoring him. Anger flares in his mind and he considers stomping on the discs, but he refrains himself. “Calm DOWN!” His shout finally gets their attention and they settle, Tommy’s fists up like he’s going to punch Dream. Like that’ll do anything.

“Why are you here?” Tommy says, trying to be threatening. Dream would laugh if it wasn’t serious.

Dream tosses Tommy the discs. “...I’m sorry. For everything I’ve put you through,” he says, crossing his arms. Tommy nearly fumbles the discs when he hears Dream, gaping at him. Tubbo stares in similar amazement. “You’re… you’re a kid. An idiot, to be clear, but a kid nonetheless. And the things I did to you weren’t okay. I… see that now.”

“Dream, where… where the fuck is this coming from? You’re not playing around, right? This isn’t another trick?” Tommy’s voice is serious for once. Dream rubs the back of his neck.

“I’ve found something more important than you or the discs. And I’d like to keep it, so. I’m not kidding. This isn’t a trick. I’m being serious. I’m sorry for… for manipulating you, for lying to you, for… well. Killing you. All that. I’m… sorry.” Dream drops his hand. “I’m not going to repeat it. Now, move, I’ve got somewhere I need to be.”

Slowly, Tommy and Tubbo move out of the way, allowing Dream to move past. He’s about to enderpearl away when Tommy shouts, “Oi, green boy! What the fuck did you find that’s more important than me? George?”

Dream pauses. He can’t help but smile. “No. My little brother. You have him to thank for your discs back.” He mimes tipping a hat, then disappears. He knows very well that Tommy and Tubbo will be suspicious of it for a few days, but that’s his fault. He knows that. He’s always known that.

Turning himself in to Sam was easier than he thought it’d be. He just held his wrists out and said, “I’ve fucked up, Sam. I’ve fucked up bad. ” Now he’s unarmed, with nothing, in the maximum security cell. Wonderful. He just hopes Ranboo was serious when he said that he’d visit. That’s the only thing motivating him now. His little brother is the only thing in his world anymore.

Chapter Text

Karl flips through the book, eyes scanning the pages. He can’t forget this one, he can’t. He knows how the other timelines end (death, death, death, mind control, death, the world is erased, death) and he knows this is the only timeline where people don’t end up dead. Well. Some do, but a few dead is far better than everyone.

(He stands at the edge of a pit, bodies piled up. Red vines curl around them, leeching them dry. Bad sits atop the egg, his face fixed in the permanent smile of death, his canines sharp and gleaming. Blood drips somewhere. He is the only one left.

He stands at the bottom of a mountain, a god in lime green laughing as he holds two discs. Bodies are piled under him. Two boys stare lifelessly at each other, their hands gripping each other, refusing to let go even in death. He is the only one left.

He stands in the prison, tears running down his cheeks. He knows they’re all dead. No one has given him food in three weeks, he hasn’t seen or heard Sam in two. He’s never going to escape this place. He is the only one left, but soon no one will be.

He stands in a snowy forest, wind whipping around him as a boy, forgotten and lost, screams out his pain. Bodies are crushed underfoot, all those who once called themselves his friends are dead. A warrior king stands there, laughing at his creation. He is not the only one left, but he may as well be.

He stands there, watching countless timelines flash by, his friends dying over and over and over. Quackity always reaching for power, Sapnap always being used by Dream, Ranboo always being manipulated. He can’t stand it anymore. He can’t stand watching them die again. He needs to change something. He needs to interfere.)

Karl shakes himself from his thoughts. So far, this is the only timeline where more than three people have lived, but he knows it’s not over. They haven’t reached the endgame and he doesn’t know how that’ll end. The paper in his hand rips slightly and he startles, looking back down at the book. A picture of a child, wrapped in bloodstained rags, held by a man in a purple hoodie with a teal spiral. He still feels bad for taking the kid from the End and leaving him for Dream to find, but if he played his cards right…

If he did this right…

Then no one else will die this time around. Ranboo is protective of Tommy and Tubbo, he won’t let Dream hurt them. Dream is protective of Ranboo, now, he won’t let anyone use and abuse Ranboo’s memory and power. There’s just the vines left that he needs to take care of and that will be far more difficult. But if Dream and Ranboo stay connected and don’t figure out his involvement, then it’ll be fine, neither of them will be corrupted, neither of them will be used by Bad to take over the server again.

You hope.

Karl sighs, pushes a hand through his hair and falls back into his chair. He just wants to sleep, wants to rest, but he knows he can’t. If he rests, then… then it could all fall apart. Everything could be ruined. Everything he’s worked so hard for could be ruined and he cannot let it fall apart, he cannot let it die.

You know you might die if this continues.

Karl frowns at the thought. He might, yeah, but he’s always come back before. He can’t stop coming back. That much he knows. He also knows that he has to stop Dream. He has to stop him before he causes irreversible damage to the timeline and sets its destination in stone. He’s always been too late, so far. Too late, too late, too late, every single time.

Karl leans back and closes his eyes. Maybe if he takes a short nap, he’ll be okay. Maybe it’ll be fine. He hopes so. He should be fine if he just takes a short nap. 30 minutes, no more. A short nap. Yeah.

When he wakes, his communicator is buzzing. He frowns, confused, and opens it. The time shines up at him, the numbers blinking. He was asleep for five hours. Horror creeps up his spine as he shakily opens the messages from Quackity.

quackity: karl where are you

quackity: karl i need help

quackity: KARL PLEASE

quackity: KARL

quackity: KARL

quackity: I DONT KNOW WHATS WRONG BUT BAD IS INSANE HE’S HUNTING ME DOWN I NEED HELP RN ANSWER PLSPLSPLSPLSPLSPLSPLS

Karl stares at the messages, then opens the other messages. He has a bad feeling about it all.

BadBoyHalo: hey karl wanna come see something ? :)

BadBoyHalo: quackity is with me

BadBoyHalo: you have until midnight to meet me here or else quackity dies :)

BadBoyHalo: see you then :)

A set of coords are at the bottom of the conversation. His throat feels dry and he can’t stand fast enough. Why is Bad holding Quackity hostage? What is he doing? Why…?

Something settles deep in his bones and he knows this is the start of the next stage. He knows that this will set the destination of the timeline in stone. He reaches for his sword, heart in his throat, and he runs. He runs as fast as he can. He needs to save Quackity, he needs to protect him. He has to. He has to .

It takes him longer than he’d like to get to the egg. Of course Bad is holding Quackity at the egg. Karl carefully navigates the vines, ignoring the squishing and squelching when he steps on them. Chills shoot up and down his spine when he finally sees Bad, Quackity, and the egg. Quackity is imprisoned in obsidian above it, yelling obscenities at Bad. Bad is waiting patiently, smiling, leaning against the egg next to the cell of obsidian.

“I’m here. I’m here,” Karl says, his eyes flitting between the three. Bad smiles wider, his pale white eyes glimmering.

“Hello! I’m so glad you came! Oh, I really didn’t want to have to kill Quackity. He’s so… useful sometimes, you know. Especially when it comes to you.” Bad’s voice is so cheerful, his tail curling gently upwards. The spade at the end is no longer red and is instead a pale white. The movement scares Karl, but he’s unsure why.

“What do you want, Bad?”

Bad smiles wider, his eyes narrowing. He reaches into a pocket and pulls out something on a chain. It swings for a moment, glinting in the red light. “Tell me what this is, Karl. Or I’m going to sacrifice Quackity to the egg.”

Karl stares at the metallic disk, confused for a moment. It slowly turns, rotating on the chain. The face of the clock is purple and teal, the numbers and hands glowing softly. His heart stops and he can hear Bad laugh almost gleefully. “How’d you get that?” He can barely hear his own voice over the roar of the blood in his ears.

Bad shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Now tell me what it is, or Quackity dies,” he says. His sword flashes in his other hand.

“Karl, don’t tell him, I… it’s not worth it, please, just run, go, please, I’ll be fine, go!” Quackity’s voice is high pitched and scared and Karl can’t stand it.

“Quackity, I can’t lose you again. Not this time.” Karl doesn’t look away from Bad, taking a deep breath. He can feel the seconds leaking away and he wishes he could turn back the time. But he can’t. Bad has his clock. “Fine. I’ll tell you. Just… let Quackity go.”

Bad hums, his tail flicking again. “No. I’m not letting him go. Dream was right, you know. About attachments.” His teeth flash again in a smile and Karl feels horror curl in his gut. That hasn’t happened in this timeline. It won’t happen. So how did Bad know about it…? “Go ahead. Tell me. Tell Quackity. What is this? What are you ?”

The words come out without him realizing. “It’s my clock. I use it to time travel.” Tears prick at his eyes. His fingers hurt from gripping the sword.

“What the fuck ?” Quackity says, voice far quieter than normal. Karl finally looks up at him and meets his wide, shocked eyes. He does his best to smile.

“I… I’ve watched you die too many times, Big Q. Way too many times. I’ve… I’ve failed so many times and… and I almost won this time…”

“Awww, boohoo. Now, I’m going to tell you how this is gonna go, okay?” Bad stands, winding the chain around his hands. “You’re going to tell me exactly how to take over this server. You’re going to tell me exactly what I need to do to kill Dream. You’re going to be my spy, got it? Or else Quackity dies. And if you keep misbehaving after that, then, well…” He studies the blade of his sword and glances back towards Karl, no longer smiling. “Sapnap is still an option.”

The world seems to fall out from under him. Everything spins. He can taste blood in his mouth. He nods. “I got it.”

It would be easier if everyone were dead.