Chapter Text
People had lots of names for the travelling act. A circus, most people called it. Others, with less tact, called it a freak show. But beneath all those labels, the show had a true name. The Carnival of Dreams. And it was both of the previous labels and more.
It was his circus, his freakshow, his, his, his, and Dream took great care to keep it that way.
Each of his acts had been specially selected. They were his prized possessions, stolen or kidnapped or bought specifically for purpose. It wasn’t easy to keep them under control, but Dream was well practised. Now they had been well initiated, they rarely ever stepped out of line. They’d get in their trailers at night without complaining, set up when they arrived and performed on cue with very little need for encouragement any more. It had taken him a long time, but he’d managed to get his travelling carnival perfect.
They’d finished setting up the tent just a few hours ago, and now his acts were milling around in their own little social groups, talking about nothing in particular. It was kind of cute, but mostly just boring. And Dream couldn’t stand being bored. It was time for him to do a loop around them. Not to do anything in particular, just to set them on edge. His pacing made them nervous, and they all knew what it meant.
Pushing himself up from his seat at the top of the stands, he made his way down through the aisles towards where Niki, Eret and Fundy sat, deep in conversation.
Niki was the first to notice him. She was quick like that, and incredibly alert. As she caught wind of his approach, she pressed her mouth shut, fast, cutting herself off mid-sentence and turning to watch him with glaring, level eyes instead.
“I see you’re not practising,” Dream commented, voice deliberately cool and uninterested.
Niki’s stance only got more stubborn, “Did we have to be?”
It wasn’t a question, it was a challenge. Dream almost laughed. She always seemed to like pressing his buttons, still defying him at every turn, but he knew her rebellion was wearing thinner and thinner these days. Her first few weeks at the circus had involved a lot of fire resistance potions on his behalf, choking them down so that when she spat fire at him he wasn’t going to singe any more of his outfits. Now she had friends, though. Now she had people to care about, and it put her in a compromised position.
For now, though, Dream decided to let this defiance lay, “No, I don’t suppose you do.”
Still, he flicked his hand with a practised nonchalance as he shrugged, just enough to show off the device he wore strapped around his wrist at all times. Just enough to remind her that it was still there.
Her gaze darted to it, and then she looked away. Good.
“Did you need something?” Eret asked from beside her. His tone was distantly nervous, which meant he’d got the message, too. They were rubbing at their wrist, fingers subconsciously trying to work underneath the metal shock band that sat there.
Dream shook his head, “No, no. I was just checking up on you.”
And trying to keep you in line, Dream thought, and was pleased with the knowledge that it had worked. Dream had worked hard for his circus, hard to keep his prizes all in one place. The shock bands were a part of that. One tap against his own device and he could electrocute whoever he wanted. Two taps and he could punish everyone. It was a system that had served him very well so far.
Just a flash of it was enough to remind most of them who they belonged to these days. Clearly, it had been enough to send Fundy into a panic, because as he turned to walk away, he could hear Eret comforting him, her voice quiet and soft, trying to calm the fox down.
Dream suppressed a laugh.
His next stop was with his favourite little family that he owned. The fact that he’d managed to get all of them, a matching set, still brought him joy. Not that it had been easy, of course, but the capture of one had just led the rest straight into his clutches. It had been a calculated move on his part, and one that had taken weeks of planning.
Technoblade was Dream’s greatest prize. He had been the most difficult of his catches, and the most difficult to keep under control, but Dream was smart. Patient, too. One by one, he’d taken his family from him. He stole his brothers from the back of pubs, market places, the hands of armed men he’d paid to aid him. Then, as his paranoia grew, he’d taken their father, too. Dream had left a bundle of Phil’s feathers, bloody and fresh, on the warrior’s doorstep.
“Come with me if you want him to live,” Dream had told him simply.
Techno had of course responded with threats of violence, but it hadn’t mattered. “I’ll kill you,” he’d told him.
And whilst Dream didn’t doubt he could, he’d just levelled at him with a laugh.
“Then your family will starve to death before you ever find them.”
His threats had worked a charm, and he’d managed to catch a whole family in one neat scoop. Techno’s shock collar sat around his neck, far more dangerous than the ones on the others. Dream had to be careful to keep complete control over him. If he couldn’t control his mind like he might the others, he would control his violence.
It glinted in the light as he approached the group of anomalies, and Dream hummed with contentment as he saw the scars that were stretching up from under it.
Somehow, they hadn’t heard him approaching. Phil was lay on the floor, his wings stretched out around him, glistening with water where he’d clearly just finished washing them. It was a shame to see them clipped, a lot of their grandeur lost, but no worry. Audiences still liked him well enough. Tubbo was sat cross legged beside him, arranging flowers and pushing them gently into his father’s hair.
Beside him was Tommy, half leant on Tubbo but mostly paying attention to Wilbur, who was singing quietly to himself next to Techno.
They definitely didn’t know he was there then, because there’s no way Wilbur would still have been singing if he had any idea that Dream was approaching. Dream tapped his wristwatch quickly, giving Wilbur a warning shock. It was barely anything, the tiniest zap, but enough to make Wilbur yelp and flinch.
Dream was glad his mask was covering how much it made him smirk to watch him panic.
His whole family had snapped to attention as a response, their moment of peace shattered. Phil was sat up immediately. Flowers tumbled from his hair as he moved a wing instinctively to protect his younger two. Techno’s response was calmer, more controlled, but Dream didn’t miss how he straightened out, making himself a bigger target.
“Wilbur,” Dream sighed, disappointment thick on his voice, “You know the rules.”
“I think we all know the rules by now,” Phil growled, voice thick with threat. Useless threat, of course, but he didn’t seem capable of abandoning the tone.
“I’d hope so. You know that I don’t like having to use this.”
When Wilbur didn’t respond, his youngest brother spoke up to fill the silence.
“Hey, Dream,” Tommy said. After all this time, he still couldn’t stand the silence, even when his voice shook slightly as he spoke.
“Tommy. It’s nice to get some sun, isn’t it?”
He turned his face towards the sky for a second and nodded, “I like being outside.”
“Good, good. I was hoping you might want to go for a walk with me later.”
The “Yeah” that left Tommy’s mouth couldn’t have been any closer to a no. Despite the enthusiasm behind it, he kept his eyes trained on the floor as he spoke, sinking behind what cover his father’s wings could provide.
“That’d be lovely, Tommy. I’ll pick you up later.”
Around him, the others had frozen.
“Thank you.”
Dream hadn’t meant to break the boy quite this badly, but it had worked remarkably well in his favour. They mightn’t show it, but his whole family was terrified of him now. Usually, they fussed over their youngest member, keeping him close at their sides, far away from where Dream could take him away again. But they couldn’t actually stop him. All he had to do was ask Tommy something and he’d come running to his side.
Not that Dream had any plans on taking him away from them again. When he’d done it, it had been because Tommy had spent a whole afternoon defying him, breaking down his patience, trying to escape. Dream had grabbed him by his hair and dragged him towards his storage trailer where he could lock him away, alone in the cold and dark.
The few weeks he’d spent in there with only Dream for company had broken his spirit, and it had done lasting damage on the rest of his family, too. They were far more scared now they’d seen one of their own beaten into submission.
Reaching out, he ruffled Tommy’s hair. For a second, he flinched again, towards Tubbo, and then he forced himself to straighten out again, leaning into the touch.
Dream was satisfied with this area, and so he pushed on.
It seemed as if Karl was human again for the time being, so Dream didn’t think to bother him. He had his legs kicked out over Quackity’s, laughing along with something that he was saying. Dream couldn’t hear what, and he knew if he got closer the laughter would only stop. For a minute, he watched.
“This is your own fault, you know,” A voice said from his side.
Dream was thankful that his mask disguised just how much that had made him jump. Puffy had managed to sneak up on him, and now was standing at his side, defiant and arms folded.
She nodded her head towards the group opposite, “You’re never going to get this. You’re lonely.”
The accusation in her voice made his blood boil.
“All you do is perform. You’re just like us, under that stupid mask of yours you’re just another one of the freaks.”
Before Dream could even realise he was doing it, a had hand reached out and was grabbing Puffy by the cheeks, squeezing hard, all nail and malice. He was dragging her in close, snarl on his lips.
“Shut. Up.”
Puffy was on her toes now, struggling to keep herself upright at this angle. But where Dream had been expecting fear, he only saw satisfaction.
“So you do have some sort of feelings in there,” She laughed, voice soft and bitter, “Good to know.”
Abruptly, Dream dropped her. She hit the ground with a satisfying thud, horns smacking dangerously off of the ground. The laughter around them had stopped, replaced with a tense silence.
Dream forced the anger to ebb out of him as he glared at her. He left the threat of kicking her on the table, but restrained himself. She was wrong. In fact, she couldn’t have been further from right. He was renowned and dangerous. Even under all her defiance, all that anger spurred on by Niki, Puffy was scared.
“Go on, hit me,” she hissed.
“I don’t think I will.”
Now her anger suddenly swooped in, dead and cold. Her face dropped. Maybe she could deal with violence, but she couldn’t deal with uncertainty. Dream had forced his voice to a cool, careless level, relaxing his shoulders. He could figure out a punishment for her later, but for now, he’d simply leave her in fear. That suited him just fine. He’d been getting more and more tense recently.
Dream walked away.
*
Sleep rarely came easily to Wilbur, but it always came easier when they were allowed to stay in their trailer rather than their holding cells. He liked to sit on his bed, curtain drawn slightly back, and stare up out at the stars.
Their trailer was cramped and crowded, but it was theirs now. They’d taken what precious little space they had and adapted it. With only three beds between them, it had made sense to push them together to maximise the room. Phil always slept on the outside, closest to the door. It was an old habit from when they had been young and constantly on the road, never sleeping anywhere that was completely safe. He couldn’t protect them now, but it gave them a semblance of familiarity that they desperately needed. When Techno was allowed to stay with them, he would be next to Phil, tucked close up under his wing as if he didn’t need the familiarity in order to sleep. Tubbo and Tommy would be next, followed by Wilbur by the wall and the window.
In the quiet, Wilbur watched the stars.
Beside him, Tommy shifted sharply, muttering something stark and panicked in his sleep. He kept muttering, trembling now, words soft and quick and rapid, littered with sorry and please. Once again, Wilbur thanked the fact he was a light sleeper. Tommy’s nightmares seemed to have gotten worse recently, and more often than not he’d wake up sobbing in the night. He couldn’t let him be alone for that.
Gently, he reached out his hand until it was resting carefully on his hair.
“It’s okay,” he whispered, gently combing his fingers through, “You’re safe.”
The touch seemed to calm him slightly, and then he sobbed, shuddering back in on himself. Wilbur kept working with him, hands gentle and calm. Quietly, barely a whisper, Wilbur began to sing. His tune was gentle, made to soothe. Slowly, gently, it brought his brother back round from his nightmare and into normal sleep.
Satisfied that Tommy was safe, Wilbur shifted so he could tuck his blankets gently round him again.
The other side of the bed shifted with the slight ruffle of feathers, and Phil lifted his head slightly.
“Wil?” He whispered, voice hoarse from sleep.
“It’s okay, Tommy just had a nightmare.”
Propping himself up on one arm, Phil shifted to look over at them.
“He’s okay now though?”
Wilbur smiled fondly at Tommy, “Yeah, he’s okay.”
Phil shifted so he could lean over, cupping Wilbur’s cheek with softness, “You’re a good brother, you know that?”
Leaning into the touch, Wilbur sighed, “I’m just trying to keep him safe.”
“You are. He looks up to you more than anybody.”
Phil’s thumb worried gently at the thin scar on Wil’s face, stretching out from the corner of his mouth out onto his cheek in a harsh line. He traced it along, frowning. It was a residual mark from some of the more violent times Dream had gagged him to stop him singing, worn open day after day when Wilbur had been having a breakdown.
Back then, he had tried to scream himself hoarse behind the gag. Now he put up far less of a fight about it - except for when Dream had used it on Tommy for as little as annoying him. Then he’d made the mistake of trying to hurt Dream. It had cost him a week with it on, but it had been worth it. He’d rather get punished for his actual powers than see Tommy hurt just for daring to still have the energy to speak.
Wil closed his eyes and leant further into Phil’s hand, distracting from the scar, “I didn’t mean to wake you up. You should go back to sleep.”
His father only hummed, “I will get us out of here, I promise.”