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"Do you want to be a god?"
Dream receives the offer under blue skies and a shining sun. He turns it over in his hands, thinking, wondering, musing.
XD watches him, Eyes of Ender floating in gentle loops with wings of void drawn tight. The entity—Dream hesitates to call them a god, because they are both more and less than one—has no true face, not that Dream can see, just a blank smile carved into not-quite-stone. And yet all those eyes settle on him like the heat from a new flame.
"No," Dream decides eventually. "I don't want to be a god."
He has no need for it. What could he possibly do with a god’s power that he'd need any more than what he has now? He has his land. He has his friends. Godhood will give him none of that.
"Are you sure?"
The eyes still, sharpening their gazes like the gleam of the moon in a starless sky.
"I do not offer this lightly."
"I am sure." There is no hesitation.
XD watches him for a moment longer. "Very well." The wings flare open, revealing endless night from another dimension. "I will leave the offer open, though. In case you change your mind." A flash, and they're gone, with only the barest swirl of purple left behind.
Dream watches the last particles dissipate, and he turns to return to the community house he and Sapnap and George are building. It's tedious work, but Dream doesn't mind. It's time he gets to spend with his friends, with this little family they've built in a world to call their own.
He stops at the edge of the lake, wooden planks dangling loosely from his hands, thinking over XD's offer one more time. But he is sure. He wouldn't lie, not to XD. Not for this.
What could godhood give him?
Not happiness.
He has his admin powers, in the event that something might go wrong, so he's content. He has everything he needs.
"Oh, you're back?" Sapnap looks up from the community house’s roof, where he's nailing plank after plank into place. "Great, we were just running low on—ack!" He splutters as the plank he'd been holding slips from his grasp and clatters to the floor.
"You're such an idiot," Dream laughs, even as he picks up the plank and hoists it up in his arms with the others.
Yes, he has everything he needs. He's happy. And so Dream clambers up the half-built stairs to help Sapnap with the roof, putting all thoughts of gods and power behind him.
The next time the offer surfaces, XD is nowhere to be seen. The walls around L'manberg, however, very much are.
Dream doesn't know what they're trying to achieve. Wilbur and Tommy, and the ones they've dragged along; what are they getting at here, in this game he didn't know he played? We want freedom, Wilbur had declared, eyes bright with the promise of revolution, shoulders proud and tall. Get your tyranny out of here! Tommy had crowed, eager to follow his brother, uniform pressed and sword held high. This is L'manberg. This is independence. The nation was born.
The nation itself isn't the problem, not really. The problem is that it's exclusionary. And that—Dream can't stand for that. Not in this server defined by the people it welcomes, not in this server defined by the family it's woven. Not in this home, to any and all.
Of course, the fact that L'manberg had risen from a drug empire built off stealing and crime is only adding insult to injury. Dream had three rules for the server, three rules only: no stealing, no griefing, no going to the End. And it's annoying, at the very least, to see them broken so thoughtlessly.
But what can he do? Any attempts to talk to the L'manbergians are tossed aside as tyranny and dictatorship, and he doesn't know what to do. So he plays along; he'll fight L'manberg, fight for the land that is everyone's not just L'manberg's, and everything will resolve itself in the end.
(Won't it?)
He's playing along, the figure at the other end of the board, and he's turning the game around and around. Eret joins him (thank god they still hear reason), forests are set ablaze (a necessary measure), Tubbo's house is burned down (just a little bit further and L'manberg will give up). It's only in the quiet after the Final Control Room's raucous victory that Dream stops to think about when this game had turned into war. It's not a game anymore, is it? It's not just a game anymore.
He'd thought Wilbur and Tommy were taking this too seriously, throwing their lives away for something as trivial as a nation they'd planted one day. They were taking this too seriously, they had to stop, why wouldn't they stop—
But he was taking it too seriously too, wasn't he? This game had been war for a long time, and he'd been too wrapped up in his machinations to see it.
Tommy challenges him to a duel. Dream takes it. He doesn't turn it over and over in his hands, in his mind, in his heart. He wants the war to end, so he takes it.
Ten paces, fire—
Arrows fly, a splash as a body hits the water—
Tommy is dead. Dream's quiver is empty.
The war is won.
Dream gives L'manberg "technical independence," as Tommy had insisted, in exchange for two discs. He remembers the first time he had these discs. He doesn't quite remember when it was, but he remembers how he got them. And why.
The offer is there.
Do you want to be a god?
He knows godhood won't bring him happiness, but it could give him power. Power to stop the war, power to stop L'manberg. Power to save the server from the hate and violence and death. Power to bring this family back together again, even after the ties have been cut. Dream knows what godhood could have given him now.
Does he regret his choice, turning it down?
No. For all that godhood could've given him, there's so much it could've taken instead. Dream doesn't know what exactly godhood entails, and he doesn't really want to find out.
Besides, the war is won. Peace is restored, and the rebuilding is under way. Everything is fine, at least for now. Everything is fine.
The election rolls around, and Dream's starting to think everything's not so fine.
The election itself wasn't a bad idea. L'manberg's settling down, establishing a solid foundation, and though Dream doesn't know too much about politics—not before Wilbur brought it in his wake—he knows enough to think that the idea of an election is pretty smart.
Of course, there's a catch. Wilbur would never give up his leadership that easily, not with the taste of power he'd had from the revolution; so the election is rigged, and Dream's hoping this won't spark another war. (He remembers the offer, remembers the opportunity he'd turned away.)
Quackity and George join the fray, and the election looks like it’ll even out. This is fine, right? Niki and Fundy announce their campaign and Dream thinks, even better.
But then Schlatt happens. Schlatt is inaugurated, and everything goes to hell.
Pogtopia is established, L'manberg is burned down to the ashes calling themselves Manberg, Schlatt is drinking himself to an early grave and Wilbur is going insane. Everything is flying by, almost faster than Dream can believe, and he'd be lost entirely had he not still been involved. Always involved, always, for his server and his land and his friends. The words are hidden under layers of smoke and mirrors; "I want Manberg gone," I want peace again, "I'll have to step in, Tommy," please don't make this any worse, "I can only help you from the shadows," I don't want to start another war, I don't want to be the bad guy.
The festival comes. A child is killed. Pogtopia is splintering and Manberg is suffocating.
Do you want to be a god?
Schlatt is suspicious, eyes sharp under the haze of all that alcohol; he's a clever man, after all. He wouldn't have made it this far if he wasn't.
Do you want to be a god?
George is gone half the time and Quackity is angry, Wilbur is angry, everyone is angry for all their different reasons and it's all the same in the end, isn't it? The server is divided. The server is beaten down. Even with no declarations, no revolution, the air is brewing with war.
Do you want to be a god?
Wilbur's got his TNT. Schlatt's got his bottles. Both are going crazy with power in opposite directions, and both are bringing their countries down with them.
Dream didn't want to be a god. He doesn't. But when he sits in his little stone cave he'd carved out into a cliff ages ago, rolling a precious Eye of Ender between his fingers (old habits die hard, and Dream's had this habit since before he can remember), he thinks of endless wings and purple dust, eyes floating like a halo, or maybe a crown, around a faceless smile.
XD appears one day, after Schlatt's reveal that the TNT had been moved. There's a book in their hands.
"I don't need it," Dream says. XD says nothing. "I don't need to be a god."
"Perhaps," XD hums. When they vanish again, the book remains, sitting innocently at Dream's feet. He picks it up carefully, and sets it in his enderchest. He doesn't look inside.
Schlatt is drunk off his ass. Dream doesn't know why he's here.
"You think you're so clever, dontcha," Schlatt leers, swaying over his desk.
Dream's shoulders are stiff, but no one would be able to see it under the armor he wears everywhere. "I don't know what you mean."
SLAM! "You think I don't know?"
Schlatt's eyes narrow and Dream stares at the slitted pupils. "You think I’m stupid? I know what you've been doing, you and your little”—Schlatt leans forward—"endeavors, shall we say. I know you're helping Pogtopia, just like that little bastard Tubbo." He hisses out a laugh, broken and dripping with venom.
"Schlatt."
Schlatt takes a swig out of his bottle, emptying the last dregs into his mouth before tossing the bottle to the floor. "Dream."
Dream's grip on his axe tightens just the slightest bit. "Schlatt, tell me why you called me here. You're wasting time."
"Oh, is that right?" Schlatt sits back heavily, falling into his rich leather chair, already stained even though it's been barely a few months. "I'll get to the point then. I know everyone's against me."
He sneers at Dream. Dream's grip tightens again.
"You're against me, Pogtopia”—the name is spat, doused in vitriol—"is plotting against me, my own citizens hate me, my own cabinet wants me dead."
"And."
"And, I know I can't really stop them. Maybe I deserve it, who knows. Who cares." His hand twitches towards another bottle on his desk. "But I know you can do something about it."
Like what? Dream doesn't ask.
"So help me." Schlatt's standing again, this time steadier on his feet. His cunning is clear beneath the drunken glaze, and Dream remembers that Schlatt's horns are far more than just physical.
"Why would I do that?"
Schlatt grins, baring his teeth. It wasn't a no and he knows it. "I can give you what you want. You want power. You want land."
Not quite, but close enough.
"How so?" Dream gestures at the messy piles of paperwork and the various bottles on the floor. "What makes you think you can give me that? You aren't a—you aren't a god."
"Oh, I know. I'm headed for the grave already, I know. But you?" Schlatt waves an arm at the windows behind Dream, looking out on Manberg. "I don't care about the land. I just wanted the power, and look where that got me. But you, you care. This was your land once, wasn't it?" He knows it was. "It can be yours again. I'll make sure of it, if you help me burn it all to the ground."
I'll blow it all to smithereens—
Words echoing between narrow stone walls, a rebellion carved into the ground—
"You'll burn Manberg down, after all the time you spent getting here?"
"Absolutely."
And here's the thing: it doesn't matter whether or not Dream cares about Manberg. He cares about the server, about the people. Everyone is against Schlatt already, he knows that. If Manberg is gone, nobody needs to fight it anymore. Everyone can be united again, instead of torn between a country they didn't believe in and a rebellion divided. The server will be at peace. All one big happy family, right?
Schlatt watches Dream with victory in his eyes.
"Deal."
—————
Later that night, Dream sits in his cave again, the book in his lap. If Schlatt promises he'll help Dream, then he will. Schlatt has nothing to gain from backing out, and everything to lose. Plus, Schlatt's a smart man; Dream believes that somehow, he'll find a way.
So then, it's up to Dream to carry out his end of the bargain.
Do you want to be a god?
Dream opens the book.
"YES!"
The scream is torn from his throat as TNT detonates one block after another, making a crater out of Manberg—or L'manberg, Dream supposes, now that Tubbo's been made president. Wilbur cackles with tears streaming down his face as he stands at the edge of the destruction, my unfinished symphony, Phil, forever unfinished. Dream's grinning so hard he thinks his face might split, throat hoarse and victory within his grasp. Holy crap, it worked, it actually worked, Manberg is gone and Schlatt is dead.
After all that planning, pushing and pulling the right pieces into place, after all those late nights and secret meetings: the deed is done. He's won.
Tommy stares at him with hurt in his eyes and accusations on his tongue, Techno sends out his withers with a declaration that if you want to be a hero, then die like one, Tubbo stands in the wreckage he was meant to lead, to fix, to heal.
Dream's won, but even under the vindication...he feels empty.
The book is heavy in his cloak pocket, ash thick on his clothes, his armor, his mask.
Do you want to be a god?
No, he doesn't need to be. Everything is already under control.
George's house is burned down, and Dream is furious. How dare they, how dare they grief his friend's home, how dare they provoke the one who let them into the server in the first place. The server was meant for his friends, and with every new friend he made, he let them into his world, his family.
No stealing, no griefing, no going to the End.
Ranboo, Dream can understand. He's new. He hasn't learned the rules yet, or at least not enough. But Tommy?
How dare he.
They were friends once, and Dream likes to think they still are, in a way. But Tommy’s taking it too far again, and he has no excuse. He must learn.
So Dream builds a wall around New L'manberg, the country risen where the old one hadn't learned. A meeting is proposed and Tubbo strikes a deal: the walls come down, and Tommy is put on probation. Dream's almost satisfied, almost—and then Tommy gets too cocky. He's got no power over me, the kid sings, and pulls out a piece of leather. What are you gonna do, Dream? I've got Spirit, what are you gonna do?
Tommy won't learn his lesson, not like this. How will he learn, then?
"I don't care about Spirit." The words are cold, sharp. Tommy's laughter dies in his throat and Dream grabs his wrist, twisting it and yanking Tommy close enough to spit in his face. "I don't care about anything, actually."
Quackity and Fundy watch from the sidelines, silent and wide-eyed. Tubbo stands behind them, mouth set in a grim line as he watches the situation unfold.
"If you are not exiled”—a stack of obsidian appears in Dream's other hand—"I will build these walls to the block limit." He shoves Tommy back and Tommy hits the ground in a heap. His shock is the only thing that keeps him down. "Don't try and threaten me." Dream leaps up onto the wall again. He puts down block after block of obsidian, raising the wall higher than ever. "You have three days."
L'manberg can be independent, but L'manberg can't be free.
———————————
The decision is made, and Tommy cries out for his best friend as Dream hauls him off by the back of his shirt. The young president stands on top of the wall, face cast in shadow. Fundy and Quackity stare back at Tommy and Dream's retreating figures.
"Tubbo!" Tommy's voice breaks and Dream thinks, good. This is where it begins.
By the time they arrive at the beach, Tommy has quieted. He's twisting his bandanna—the one Tubbo had given him, before the exile, before the war, before everything—in his hands. Ghostbur had appeared at some point during the journey, and he offers some blue, which Tommy refuses.
"Tommy."
Tommy looks up, bitterness in his eyes and hatred in his face.
"You are exiled. You are going to stay here until you learn your lesson, alright? If you leave, I'll know."
"Like you could stop me—" Tommy snipes, but he flinches when Dream drops a hand onto his shoulder.
"Tommy. Do you understand? "
Tommy eyes the axe on Dream's back and clamps his jaw shut. He doesn't say anything else, though, so Dream counts that as a win.
"Good."
Put your armor in the hole.
A couple prods from the axe is enough to get Tommy to give in, and he dumps the contents of his inventory into the hole Dream had dug. Dream drops a block of TNT and a match down, and watches as the items are incinerated.
Now that wasn't so hard, was it?
Put your armor in the hole.
There’s less resistance this time, and Tommy drops everything he has into the hole as soon as Dream swings his axe off his back.
Good job, Tommy.
Put your armor in the hole.
Tommy tosses his stuff in without complaint, even as his lips twist and he turns away.
Dream blows it all up without a word.
Dream is cold. The stone cave doesn't provide much in the way of insulation, and armor isn't exactly the warmest of materials. He moves closer to the fire crackling quietly on the floor, but it doesn't seem to help. He's always cold nowadays, now that he thinks about it. Netherite presses down on his shoulders, as hard and unforgiving as the stone beneath him.
The only time he feels warm is...
Put your armor in the hole.
The words rolled easily off his tongue. Too easily, almost.
Dream puts away the Eye of Ender he'd been passing between his hands, and pulls out a block of TNT instead.
He's become something like Wilbur, hasn't he?
The book sits in his enderchest, along with an old bracelet and a disc, but he leaves it be. He's spent enough time tracing the symbols on the cover, the pages within. Tonight, he just wants to sleep.
Do you want to be a god?
It's fine. He's got everything under control.
Tommy is broken now. Dream's broken him down until he listened without hesitation, destroyed everything he worked for with his own match. Dream thinks that once, he'd have been horrified at what he's done. He thinks that now, he doesn't care.
Put your armor in the hole.
Put your armor in the hole.
It's ok, Dream, I'll do it myself.
Tommy has learned, and that's what Dream wanted all along, isn't it? He listens to the rules, his rules.
Do you want to be a god?
Why bother? He doesn't need to be. Dream's the powerful one here, he's the one in control.
Thank you, Dream.
You're my friend, Dream.
I'm sorry, please don’t leave me, Dream.
Dream knows he's won.
Eventually, Tommy manages to weasel his way out from exile, out from under Dream’s hold, and runs off to Techno’s house. It’s a bit of a surprise, at first, before the confusion of how, I thought I'd done enough, how did he still escape, gives way to disappointment. But it’s fine. Dream still has the disc, he still has the favor, he still has control. Regardless of what Techno or Tommy says, he still has the upper hand.
A festival is announced, and Dream resolves to make it a disaster.
He leads everyone to the remains of the community house, walls he'd built himself crumbled and scorched as water pours in from the lake. His hands still tingle—
Block after block of TNT, he almost can't believe he's doing this—
But Dream gestures at the wreckage—
This was his first home, the first building on the server, a remnant of those happy days—
"He's messed up for the last time."
It’s gone.
Tommy shows up with Techno not far behind, and Dream bites back a hiss. But all’s well that ends well, and it ends very well for Dream: two discs in his possession, and thirty hours, thirty hours for everyone to say their goodbyes.
Doomsday is a success. L'manberg is destroyed for the final time. The end is in sight.
Checkmate.
Dream has an axe to Tubbo’s throat and a tight hold over Tommy’s head, and all the pieces are falling into place. This is his chance, his chance to end it all. He's ending the war, the war he's won since the beginning. Victory is sweet on his tongue.
“Say your goodbyes, Tommy. This is it.”
Tubbo’s accepted his fate already, smiling even as the blade digs deeper, and yet Tommy still lurches forward with begging, pleading cries, what am I without you?
Tubbo wipes a tear from Tommy’s face. He knows the truth he faces, at least, even if Tommy refuses to see it. His time is coming to an end.
I suggest you resign.
Dream smiles. He's so close, it’s almost over; and then finally, finally, the server can be at peace again.
One big happy family.
(That’s what it’s been all along, right?
It’s not a sentiment he believes in anymore. Not for a long time.)
Tommy reaches for Tubbo as Dream pulls his axe back for one last swing, too far away to do anything but still desperate to do something—
But then the light flares, and Dream turns. "Punz?"
"I'm sorry, Dream."
Practically the rest of the server comes pouring out of the portal, and Dream barely notices Tubbo running back to Tommy as his axe lowers. "Punz, what—what is this?"
"I'm sorry, Dream," Punz repeats. "But you should've paid me more."
Everything blurs after that; he remembers Sapnap lunging at him with a snarl on his face and his sword in the air, get away from them! He remembers Tommy swinging at him with the Axe of Peace until he dropped his armor and weapons and everything, put your armor in the hole. He remembers being forced to his knees with a blade at his throat and screaming don't kill me, you don't want to kill me, we're friends right?
He remembers betting everything on his book.
If you kill me, everyone dies forever. I've got the book. You can't kill me.
It's only one part of the book's power, of course. The book does so much more than that, and Dream's memorized it all. But they don't need to know that.
He remembers being yanked to his feet, arms held roughly behind his back as he's pushed to the elevator and then the prison. He remembers Sam patting him down for any items he might've somehow retrieved between one death and the next, he remembers the lava searing his eyes—now maskless—as Sam escorts him across the bridge, he remembers netherite bars coming up as he's shut in. Alone.
Do you want to be a god?
"XD."
Dream doesn't know how long it's been, and it doesn't matter. He's sick of this place. He wants out.
XD appears with little fanfare, a slash of void closing up behind them faster than Dream can blink. The book is in their hands.
Dream grins.
It’s a cracked, jagged thing. He's a broken man, he knows—it’s been a long time coming, probably—but that only makes him more dangerous, more desperate, more deadly. He's hungry, and it's not from a lack of potatoes. All alone in this obsidian box, trapped with only his thoughts and a ticking clock to keep him company—is it any wonder he wants revenge?
Dream pushes himself to his feet as XD floats closer, the Eyes of Ender watching his every move. He holds out a hand. "I'm taking the offer."
"Are you sure?"
XD stops right outside his reach. Their wings are spread enough to block out the lava's glare. It's just the two of them.
"I am sure." There is no hesitation.
"Very well." XD places the book in Dream's shaking hands, though their hand lingers a moment before pulling away again. Dream flips to the very last page, where he remembers there being symbol after symbol, undecipherable and unusable as long as he refused the offer, and finds the page empty but for one simple character. "Use it wisely," XD murmurs, and disappears.
A laugh bubbles its way out of Dream, laced with giddiness and disbelief and the edge of insanity. It worked? He touches the character and the page ripples, revealing golden script curling across the yellowed paper. Holy crap, it worked.
There's a rush of heat, far more intense than that of the constant lava, sharp and prickly and Dream swallows back a scream. Finally the light recedes, replaced by spotty darkness as Dream closes his eyes and takes a breath—one, two, three...
He's...he's done it. He's a god. He opens his eyes with burning resolve, he's getting out of here, he'll make them pay—
It takes a moment to register.
It's dark. It's cold. Dream has no armor. The book is gone.
Where is he?
Dream stumbles over his feet as something—an Enderman, don't look at the eyes, you don't even have a sword—appears in front of him. He trips and scrapes his hands on stone; not smooth, not like the prison's obsidian.
It's too dark. It's too cold. Where is he?
Gods do not reside in the land of mortals. The whisper isn't hissed in his ear, but he hears it all the same—ringing in his head, in the air around him. Somewhere far above, a dragon roars.
Everything clicks.
XD watches, perched atop a crystal tower, as the boy who thought himself a god realizes what he's brought upon himself. The book is heavy in their hands, sealed once more, and they tuck it away in one of the dimensions hidden among their many wings.
The boy had a chance. If he'd taken the offer before...well, before everything, he might've had a chance to find his happiness, might’ve had a chance to stop the wars before they started. XD understands, though; the boy hadn’t thought godhood could serve him well. But now...
XD couldn't take back the offer. Dream seized the chance as soon as he'd really, desperately needed it, and XD could do nothing but pull him to another dimension before he destroyed the world he'd created.
He'd already been a god in his own right though, before. It was impressive, XD often thought, how much Dream could do with the power of a server admin, and it was even more impressive what he could do without it. But the thing is, Dream always knew godhood could never bring him happiness.
Is it worth it, now? XD wonders. All the power you asked for, and no one to share it with.
And in the end—who could save Achilles, the strongest of his generation, when he bared his weakness to the world?