Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Its quiet.

Silent even.

Or atleast Dream wished it was.

The bubbling of lava and constant ticking of time was drowned by the rush of black tinted blood through thickened veins which dragged through his exhausted body like slush, barely keeping the broken man alive as it flowed around his weakened form, tying him closer to the uneven ground that had become a comfort as exhaustion hung heavily in his mind.

Dream panted weakly as his injures gutted every inch of his skin. Quackitys session had been particularly fun today, the man deciding to have a little skeletal inspection, systematically rehearsing the names of each bone as he snapped and shatter and broke them with intimidating ease, his voice soft yet devoid of the emotion that made him the old friend Dream once knew. Instead replaced with the rage of prey turned predator. But he couldn’t exactly talk about others changing when he was a monster himself.

“You know Dream I was thinking,” Quackitys voice was been smooth as he stalked around the corpse laying limply in the cell, hidden eyes watching from behind the broken mask and an even more broken facade, “you killed Tommy. And you brought he back. It’s almost like you half killed him.... Like he’s forever going to be half-dead... Half-broken, half, the person he once was.” A thick rubber glove had wrapped itself around Dreams throat, snapping the already petrified man to attention, making Quackitys head cock in a fake display of innocence, his white eye ruining the pure facade. “And so I started to think, what’s the physical description of half dead? And believe me Dreamie.... I really thought about this. If we consider destroying the body as a full death, then a half death would be the destruction of the upper or lower half. But of course destroying your torso would kill you and that would just be an inconvenience to us all. Plus Sappy wouldn’t be very pleased if I were to tear your legs from your body and leave you to bleed out helplessly would he?” The rubber hand tightened, thumb cutting off the blood flow to his pain ridden brain as panic built in his non existent heart, “so I figured what about the organs? But well... if we rethink the value of each organ they’re all too influential to risk you losing them, you’d probably die in mere moments huh,” Dreams blood ran cold as an unnaturally wide smile graced Quackitys face, his scar distorting his face and cutting his cheek into a split that felt like it was gazing into his very soul, “So I decided on the bones.”

A half hearted sob wretched it’s way out of Dreams throat as he recalled the low musical voice and the snapping of bones to the unfinished symphony, the feeling of his skin tearing as white peaked through and swelling pulling the cracked skin taunt, all whilst accompanied with words his mind couldn’t even recall.

The carpus, metacarpus and the phalanges. The lunate, scaphoid, hamate, capitate, trapezoid—

Dream felt a scream echo through the box, the lava trapping the weak sound within the ever heated obsidian, his sensitive ears screaming desperately for it all to stop. Why wouldn’t Quackitys voice just go away please I just want it all to stop please shut the fuckuppleaseimsorrypleasepleasePLEASE.

And it went quiet.

The deep violet tinted ceiling faded into the dark void Dream was familiar with. The feeling of his mind disconnecting from his body sent electricity sparking through his spiritual body as he was pulled away from the mind numbing pain into nothingness, instead floating in the abyss of memories he barely retained, reaching for a memory of warmth. Of light and happiness and freedom rather than his actual life of darkness and pain and captivity.

Dream felt himself float as pleasant memories pulled him the painful present, a particular one sitting in the for front of his mind as he reminisced among the dark void.

High pitched giggles filled the humid air, rain hammering down yet never once dampening the young ones mood, instead his white eyes gleamed with excitement, the blue flush across white freckled cheeks turned dark cyan and the sculks chittering and chirping in contagious excitement. Long ears twitched and jingled with jewellery as the rain tapped against them along with the slight stinging as wet hair smacked against them, the usually fluffy blonde locks now straight and stringy as the young boy leaped around in the rain, avoiding the trees as though he had eyes to see the tall plants, instead relying on the hyper sensitive horns which curled out of the little ones head, a deep cyan with leaves and water hanging off them like a naturally made flower crown.

Dream let out a series of excited chirps as he jumped around in the rain, a bright grin stretching over his unmarred cheeks. It had been around a year since Puffy had adopted him and the concept of rain was still so foreign to the young boy who grew up in the dark twisted caves of the deep systems the he couldn’t help but be awed, only ever having witnessed water which would drip from low ceilings within unexplored caves, often annoying the elders and entertaining the littles. He had grown up around his kind until Puffy adopted him at the age of 7, his youthful life surrounded by giants who protected the unexplored parts of the world with unmatched ferocity, the ones who killed any who would dare disturb their peace, tearing creatures apart limb from limb and wearing aspects of their successful kills as decoration to their already formidable appearance. The ones known for teaming up with endermen to massacre humans in the masses, tearing through flesh and armour alike to show their prowess. The ones who would allow the littles to weave glowberrys through their horns like the flower crowns in the over world. The ones who would offer gifts of vital supplies just to trade with endermen to allow the youful ones to experience the overworld, (Dream could still recall the first time he touched a grass block and how he curled up and slept on it every night after, he still didn’t understand how there was so much of it in the overworld). The Wardens.

Dream squeaked as he suddenly slammed into a tree, his mind too preoccupied with the past to hear the sculks concerned chitters as he collided with the bark, instantly slammed onto his back as he took a moment to regain his bearings, too preoccupied with the sculk hopping over him chest, chittering their concerns and the stinging pain over his front to hear the steady footsteps approaching and looming over you.

“I’ve told you before not to go out in the rain.”

Unknown to Dream, Foolish towered over the small boy, the rain perfectly parted to avoid hitting the young one who lay on the ground, blinking at nothing with a dopey smile still painting his face; he may not yet understand the overworld common language but it didn’t stop the boy from chirping excitedly in his own language at Foolish’s presence, a small hand reaching out weakly until the older gently placed his hand in the youngers, grinning as the boy chirped happily before jumping to his feet and lunging at Foolish, making the God laugh and return the tight hug, towering over the boy yet holding him close, his hold soft and protective on the one he viewed as his little brother.

Despite having only known the boy for a year, he was extremely attatched to the young warden hybrid, still able to recall when Puffy had first introduced the small boy who’d stabbed his horns ruthlessly into his stomach without hesitation. It wasn’t the best first meeting and it had taken weeks for Puffy to explain that Foolish wasn’t a threat, but it was the one that would lead to a deep brotherhood.

“Now now,” he pulled away, watching the boy pout slightly, “Puffy will have my head if she finds you out here, let’s get home shall we?” Dream didn’t respond, instead leaping away from the young God to feel the rain splatter against his hardened skin, ranting excitedly in what was just unintelligible chitters about how cool the rain was that it fell from nothing and that it was different temperatures depending on the day. The rain dripped down young Dreams face, catching on his young eyes and dripping from his chin to splatter on the sculks who purred and skittered around him, forcing the hybrid to let out his own contented purrs as the rain spattered across his eyelids with a smile.

Dream felt himself get snapped into his body as liquid dripped onto his closed eyes, slowly falling down his face among the many dried tear tracks. But it wasn’t warm like the fresh liquid that cascaded from the sky on humid days, nor was it cold like pinpricks that poured from the skies in the dark nights of winter, but was tainted as it fell from the crying obsidian surrounding his new home. It dripped off his face into the pool of sticky crimson below him, no sculk hopped over his person in concern but instead the ticking of time filled his hyper sensitive ears, the air heavy as it weighed him to the rough ground, no warm calloused hands to grasp his own and pull him from the nightmare of his own mind, only the inescapable humid air which suffocated his weak lungs as pain continued to assault his battered body. There were no trees to run into, no grass to curl up on, only the cold oppressive heat of his own actions.

A life of misery, alone and forgotten only to be used as a bargaining tool, to be used and manipulated for ones own needs. A taste of his own medicine.

Just as he deserved.

Right?

Chapter Text

Sunlight scorch onto the young boys backs, one relishing the inescapable warmth whilst the other curled further within the dark shade of the surrounding nature to avoid the suns oppressive gaze.

“You’re such a baby Dream,” the slightly older boy chimed in a teasing tone, voice holding a slight lisp to accommodate for the snout and tusks which protruded from his youthful face. The sunlight illuminated the piglin boy, making his skin gleam a healthy yet extreme pink and his vermillion eyes brighten significantly, all encasing compared to the tiny black pupils which challenged the sun, rather than withering under its gaze, instead flourishing in the non threatening warmth which made his instincts roll in satisfaction. It was perfect.. Atleast for himself.

“Shut up Techno,” the younger ground out, voice shaky and words stilted as he formed the words in the unfamiliar overworld common language, “not all of us are built for the heat.” The smaller boy curled into the shade, his small cyan horns peaking out from behind golden locks, freckles gleaming unnaturally illuminous white and the green flush on his cheeks almost matching the dark out leaves protecting him from the inescapable sunlight.

“Well that’s just because i’m better.”

“ Hey!!”

Dream could still perfectly recall that summers afternoon with Technoblade, memories from before they learned how to glamour and hide their hybrid features, of how Techno could barely speak through his tusks and snout and how Dreams speaking was disjointed & stilted due to still learning the common language. How they would compare their different features and mock one another playfully even at the early ages of 9, having been introduced by Puffy and Phil when the parental figures had met for a simple trade and the boys bonded, desperate to learn everything about the other even as complete opposites, overanalysing one another even back then which would lead them to their self proclaimed rivalry later on.

“Why you like the warmth so much?” Dreams head cocked to the side, listening to his friends breathing and the chittering of sculk below the surface to ignore the heat that felt as though it were melting through  his skin.

“Eh?”

“The warmth... The heat ya’ know?”

“Yeah I heard you,”

“Ehhhh so why’d you ignore me you—“

“Because it’s natural for me.” Dream may not have been able to see Techno but he could imagine his nostalgic smile, “I was only in the nether till I was five but I remember it clearly. It was always hot. Way hotter than right now, with oceans of lava that fell from the sky and beasts that would shoot fire and flames at you if you got in their way,” Dream frowned at the description, it sounded traumatic so why would he enjoy the heat? “But it was natural for me. I remember once I was thrown into a lava pool for the first time and I screamed because I thought I would die but instead I just, floated. It was like bathing in warm water ya kno? Perfect temperature even if I mentally knew it was insane. I ended up swimming through it with striders. I ended up riding one. And sure it was extremely hot but it was natural for me, like the warmth was a... comfort... I don’t know go away,” Technos voice was soft as he reminisced, some worlds slurred by his lisp but it didn’t deter how the memories of a place so hellish was clearly a comforting memory for him, even if Dream would never understand.

“That sounds terrifying.”

“It was.”

Dream hummed softly, trying to imagine what Techno had said but coming up blank, afterall, being a warden hybrid also came with being blind so could never understand the concept of lakes of lava, but it was a beautiful image all the same.

“What about you?” Dream cocked his head again in Technos direction, “why don’t you like the heat? Why’d you like the cold so much?”

The words lingered in Dreams mind as he considered... Why did he hate the heat so much?

“It’s like.. the o-opo—“

“Opposite...”

“Yeah! Its like the opposite for me. I lived in the caves for most of my life and obviously there wasn’t any sun there. I guess i’m just not used to the sun,” his voice was soft as he thought about growing up in the underground. God he missed it.

“What was it like?” Technos voice has also softened as he gazed at the warden hybrids white-green eyes.

Dream paused. His mind rapidly trying to recall a description of a place he’d never seen yet knew so familiarly, his core trembling in.... anticipation?

“Cold. I mean there was never any sunlight so it was always cold but we used to huddle for warmth, the littles in the centre whilst the elders would curl around us. Sometimes if we were lucky endermen would bring us gifts like food or blocks. I remember the elders would get really mad when endermen would bring us flowers cos’ they irritated our noses but we always loved them because they were so soft and delicate... But yeah generally it was cold, but always loud. Sculk allow us to emphasise surroundings ya kno? So we could always know the difference between ores and stone as well as where mobs were. Hell we knew when humans would come into the caves and would  always hear their deaths. But it was home, cold and uncomfortable but familiar and known. Sorry I cant give you a better description I—“

Dreams trembling voice was cut off by warm arms wrapping around his torso, a sharp contrast to his own colder skin but welcomed non the less, bringing a smile to his youthful face as he felt Technos stumpy tusks against his neck before the older pulled away, hands clenched on Dreams shoulder,

“Some day, and I swear by it Dream, we’re gonna go to the caves and i’m gonna give you the best image of it you could imagine and you’ll go to the nether and experience real heat for the first time, got it?”

“Even the swimming in lava?”

“Especially the swimming in lava,” Techno deadpanned, forcing a cackling wheeze out of the other boy before he too dissolved into laughter.

“You promise me Dream?”

“I promise.”

In the undergrowth of the deep oak forest, two boys laughed in pure innocence, before the days of war and hardship, before the days of hiding and lies, the two revelled in their childish innocence, never truly understanding the privilege until it was gone.

Dream felt a smile curve unnaturally over concealed features, his cheeks aching at the unfamiliar movement and his mask heavy over his face as he thought back on it. On the days before he learned to glamour away his hybrid features under the persona of humanity, never managing to fulfil his promise to the one person he swore to never harm.

Don’t worry Techno, he thought, clambering onto unsteady legs, smile unwavering as he used the rough obsidian as a guide to stumble over to the lava flowing enticingly, its heat so eerily reminiscent of his friends warmth he couldn’t help but be entranced like a moth to a fire, feet unwavering as he fell into the red-hot liquid, I’ll keep my promise.

[Dream tried to swim in lava.]

Chapter Text

Steady rumbling sounded in front of him, a high pitched lilt to it as it reverberated within his young ears, his ears twitching as his head cocked in interest in an attempt to discern the gentle sound.

Dream had only been in the overworld a mere few months and had yet to understand the complexities of the different creatures there, having only been familiar with the constant killing of mobs and humans in the deep dark, the fact that people kept animals out of pure enjoyment and pleasure was an unknown concept, leaving him in his current predicament.

A small creature which Philza had said was called a cat was in front of him. Even without his sight, he could tell it was small, its rumbling purrs barely audible to the human ear yet echoed within his own, the soft rustling with its every breath indicating it was likely covered in some sort of hair or fur.

“This is Patches,” Phil explained gently, “she’s a cat, a small feline creature that people keep as pets, an animal which people find comfort in.” Dream simply stared, barely understanding the man but he appreciating it anyway, still observing the cat in childish curiosity. The purring was soft in his ears, reminding him of a much softer version of the crooning he heard from other wardens within from within the caves.

Dream smiled softly at the comparison, not yet touching the animal but letting out a low croon of his own, the sound rumbling softly in his chest, not deep enough to be a growl but not high pitched enough to perfectly mimick cat, instead a gentle reassurance in his own tongue.

Unknown to Dream, Philza sat watching him with unabashed interest. Wardens were rare. A mob of which very few would dare adventuring to see and even fewer would come back from, he himself having only heard the tales of monsters which tore people limb from limb with horns curling from snarling face and a glowing chest with ribs wide on display, a blantant show of confidence of which they could uphold. Rumours of their eyes glowing in a promise of death and clawed hand which could gouge out ones intestines to wear as decoration to show their overwhelming strength. And yet here say this small hybrid boy. White freckles glowing on chubby cheeks with tiny green stumpy horns growing out of a mop of blonde curls and a glowing chest which vibrated with his heartbeat. A boy who sat crooning at a tiny kitten with a contented smile across cyan flushed cheeks, eyes blank yet full of the pure childish innocence, so different from the horror stories of his kind.

Phil had come to see him as soon as Puffy had mentioned adopting a hybrid son as he already had one of his own, Technoblade still adjusting to the overworld after 2 years. He

remembered first meeting Dream, feral and afraid as he snarled at them with sharpened canines and lunged at them with terrifying precision for a blind child, the sounds of sculk surrounding him as blank eyes were filled with fear. The same boy who crooned softly as hands ran through his fluffy hair, soft chitters and chirps added when fingers would brush against his hyper sensitive horns, such avid emotions for a creature with such a vile reputation.

Which lead him to this moment. The small kitten he’d picked up stranded in the forest was now curled up and purring on a blanket whilst empty white eyes watched quietly, excitement filling the orbs in a way that Phil could barely repress cooing at the child.

He watched as Dream crooned softly, the boy had always been hesitant to make instinct based noises so Phil couldn’t help but soften as his and the cats sounds merged together into gentle white noise which made the tension melt from his tired bones, seeing the two at in such state of relaxation he just couldn’t help it.

“Dream?” the boy may not have understood overworld language yet his head still turned to Phil, cocking in the other direction in a silent question, “you can touch you know?”

Obviously, Dream didn’t react, only blinking his wide eyes, a questioning distorted chirp interrupting his crooning in an obvious question.

Chuckling, Philza reached out slowly, wrapping his calloused hands around Dreams fleshy one and bringing it to the cats fur, observing as the boys freckles seemed to glow alittle brighter, his ears twitching as an excited giggle escaped his smiling lips, eyes shutting as he stroked the small cat without prompting, giggles increasing and Philza’s smile along with it.

“Her names Patches,” he whispered, not wanting to interrupt but the boy instantly picked it up, babbling happily in an attempt to copy his words,

“pa’ches, pa, pa, pa, pa, pa, pa’c’es,” the boy babbled, repeating the first syllable happily, the cat still in disturbed as the young warden petted the creature with a delicacy unexpected of his kind.

Philza smiled softly, observing the two rumbling happy creatures, knowing he would do anything to keep them together  and safe, anything to maintain that pure childish innocence.

If only he knew how far the boy would stray.

“P-Please stop,” he rasped, voice hitching on the crimson blood that clung to his vocal cords whilst his voice burned in protest at the words, desperation leaking into his hoarse tone.

“This is all your fault Dream. If you weren’t so selfish as to give me the information, this poor creature wouldn’t be dying.”

Quackitys voice was silky smooth as he spoke, no remorse in his voice ( as always) , merely pure disgust directed at the pathetic prisoner curled up in the corner of his own blood, covered up body wracked with tremors, as a shaky hand reached out in weak plea.

“D-don’t hurt it...”

A harsh laugh accompanied Dreams soft words, a yowl echoing through the cell as Quackitys hand came down, splashing into the puddle of blood below him whilst the small creature writhed in pain, meowing in pain as its ribs were slowly crushed against its lungs by the sadistic mans hand, weak claws grasping for an escape at the torturers rubber gloves, anything to make it stop.

It was known around the server Dreams love of animals, whether it was being called a disney princess for being loved by dolphins and shooting through the water well ahead of his friends or his extreme bond with his horse spirit, used against his as a bargaining chip after being slaughtered by his friend, all knew of his attatchments to animals.

Which is why Quackity relished in his pain even more, finally grasping deeper than the admins surface and weakening his broken mind. Grabbing the small cat by its ear he began to pull and pull and pull and pull. A mixture of sobs and screams echoing within the vault with the creatures shrieking yowls as it was assaulted, its ear torn from its head in a gorey display of blood, adding to the vermillion stained obsidian, only ever interrupted by the salty liquid dripping from Dreams eyes as he begged.

And oh if it wasn’t a sight to see a god beg.

To see him beg for an innocent life as though he weren’t the merciless manipulator who swore to kill innocents. As if he hadn’t ripped away childhoods and massacred kids without remorse for anything other than his own gain. How dare he care for a pathetic fucking animals life more than his so called friends?

“Q PLEASE?!”

The nickname was the end. A final crack echoing through the room.

No more sobbing. No more yowling. No more splattering blood. Finally, silence.

Dream didn’t need eyes to imagine the sight. A small creature, once blessed by purity and innocence, now likely bent and distorted in the grasp of a rubber glove, dripping blood from clumped fur where incisions and wounds hung from its weak form, blood pooling to join the pile of its own gore. Claws and ears and paws and chunks of fur and skin and organs alike.

And along with it Dreams fight.

Where there was once three sets of steady breaths now only remained two. One panting with either shock or exertion and the other paused in grief.

“Look at what you did Dream.... You fucking monster...” Quackity hissed, pain lacing his voice as though Dream were the one who beat the animal to death.

He may as well have.

It was all his fault.

It was all his fault it was all his fault it was all hisfaultitwasallhisfaulthisfault his fault.

And in his grief, he failed to notice the gentle laughter at the other end of the cell as he witnessed the downfall of a God, as footsteps splashed through pools of blood to disappear into flowing lava which moulded itself around the man, not daring to touch. He failed to notice the scent of burnt flesh that hung heavy in the air as the poor cat was burnt to nothing, forgotten as a means to an end. Finally allowed a chance of freedom. Where the small creature could finally be free to live as it pleased without fear of rough hands and even rougher obsidian.

And oh how Dream longed to join it.

To be freed from the restraints of this torturous life. To live among the almost forgotten memories of the cold darkness with nothing but the sounds of sculk chittering in his ears. How he longed for salvation.

And he would reach it by any means.

Any means necessary.

On stumbling feet, Dream drew back, familiar with the rough obsidian beneath his hands as he couldn’t imagine much else, his head poised as far away as possible from the dark block before slamming down. Hard. The second crack of the hour echoing through the cell as a body slumped with it.

[Dream committed suicide.]

Chapter Text

“Get up you fucking monster,” a voice spat, disgust reverberating around the isolated vault as bloodied knuckles gripped even bloodier hair, yanking the masked man to his broken knees, relishing the crimson coating his starved figure, the once orange jump suit stuck rigid from the layers of blood built up over the seemingly unending amount of time.

Dreams head was cocked back, held shock still in Quackitys relentless grip, the blood dripping down his chin hidden by his mask whilst his insides bled out unnaturally, a canvas of purple and blue splattered across his concaved stomach, malnourishment evident along his lanky translucent bones and worn down muscles.

“One pathetic son of a bitch huh. What happened to being a god huh Dream? What happened to being a leader? What happened to you? What even are you anymore?” Questions filled Dreams pain riddled mind, echoing around in Quackitys inescapable scathing tone, where once a strong facade that fought for himself with smooth unnoticeable manipulation that would curl around ones throat to choke away their happiness, was now gone, distorted by a psychopaths hand and broken beyond relief, a mere pawn to be played with as one wished, an eerily perfect parallel to his scarred body, only hidden by the layers of glamour that retained the last of his humanity.

‘He’s right though’ Dream thought, the voice in his head emotionless as it spoke, ‘you turned into a fucking monster huh. What happened to your humanity? Was that guise really a guise afterall? You really are the monster they say you are afterall. What even are you anymore?’

“What the hell are you!?”

“Leave me alone!”

Undergrowth crunched beneath two sets of feet, one set light and agile, graced with adrenaline and fear whilst the other was loud and clunky, only pulled on by mere curiousity despite the tree branches systematically swung back to ping him in the face, wildlife chuffing its annoyance at the two as they disturbed the peace, crushing potential life beneath small feet only ever accompanied by hastily whispered apologies.

Dream felt exhaustion straining at his well worked muscles. For a mere thirteen year old he knew he was fitter than most, but running for almost a mile after a day of exercise wasn’t gonna be the best, especially when being chased by a particularly curious child. Sure he hadn’t seen the others face (and they hadn’t seen his either, glamour and masks were godly), but he could tell they were young by the irregular footfalls as well as the high pitched screaming they let out whilst chasing Dream.

He’d been practicing his accuracy with a variety of weapons in the forest. Afterall he was thirteen and Techno was already onto swords but due to his blindness he wanted the unexpected advantage of perfect precision, instead spending hours knife and axe throwing at the thick trees, rapidly improving but also easily exhausting his small body. Which is why it had been such a surprise to sense another presence. One new and unfamiliar. Their footsteps softer than a adults but too clumsy to be someone who knew how to stalking him. Their heartbeat was just that little bit too fast and their breath the same, sending Dream into a panic and bolting before he could even question the other.

Leading him to this situation.

“Dude just stop why are you running!”

The high pitched voice spurred another wave of panic into Dreams being, forcing him onwards with inhuman speed, feet able and rapid among the uneven terrain with the skittering of sculk echoing through his ears and the hyper sensitivity of his horns allowing him to duck and dive with well practiced prowess. His harsh panting echoed within his ears as he began to feel blood drip down his exposed ankles where vines snagged and caught, making him hiss at the constant pulling of the small wounds, adding to the fear building up in his chest.

And of course it was at that moment he fell.

A root sat just above the ground, a small hoop formed in its grasp that could only be seen by a trained eye. Of course for an adult it would be too small for someone to get caught in, but for Dream it was his downfall.

With an undignified squawk, his foot jammed into the root, his momentum instantly slamming to a stop, his foot flipping as his body violently collided with the ground, only protected by the white porcelain on his face, otherwise tearing through his clothing, leaving deep scratches and mud along his torso as he skidded, ankle twisting along the way.

“Hey!!— A-are you okay?”

The voice was now closer than it has been previously, fear shooting down Dreams spine as he spun to sit on his bum before backpedaling into a tree, the hot pain radiating from his ankle not even close to the fear encasing his mind.

“Are you okay?” The voice chimed again. Their excitement had lower to nerves, small feet shuffling loudly on the ground, not approaching but not leaving, allowing Dream a moment to take in his situation.

Sculk chittered their concern below the surface, not surfacing due to the unknown presence but still there, allowing Dream to recognise he was in the same biome and therefore luckily wasn’t too far (hopefully) from his home. Wind whistled calmly, the figure infront of him shivering at the breeze which rustled the leaves above him, the lack of foliage directly on the ground indicating he was on a generally flatter area, so he’d probably run north of where he was, meaning he’d run towards Foolishs house, a perfect hideout (just incase).

“Are you dead?”

His attention was snapped back to the child. Their voice held a slight emotional tremble, indicating they were probably younger than him if they couldn’t hide their emotions. Their feet also kept shuffling, a show of obvious nerves whilst their hands were probably fiddling together too.

“‘m fine,” he muttered, pushing himself further back to lean against the tree, squaring his shoulders and keeping his blank mask focussed on the child’s direction in a desperate intimidation tactic.

“You’re okay! I’m sorry for chasing you I just wanted to know what you were...”

“What I am...?”

“Yeah! You have that white mask on but I was kinda far away so it didn’t look like a mask so I wanted to see what you were!”

Dream blinked. Obviously he didn’t know how the mask appeared but he understood the concept of wanting to understand the unknown, afterall it was just mere curiosity, the kid probably meant no harm... Right? He couldn’t exactly blame them for their mistake.

“I’m Dream,” he responded instead, unsure of how to reply however the kid instantly perked up, squeaking and quickly hopping over to Dream, planting himself down a few feet from where he was curled up, making Dreams shoulders tense up unconsciously,

“I’m Sapnap!”

“Sapnap?”

“Yup!”

“... That’s a weird name—“

“Hey!!”

Dream couldn’t help but giggle softly at the kids indignant tone, allowing himself to slump backwards and cock his head in what hopefully made him appear less of a threat, and it apparently worked if the kids dopey laugh meant anything, the sound bringing a comfortable warmth to Dreams chest which he’d only ever experienced in the presence of his family.

And as a smile curved behind a white mask of indifference, and another curved on chubby tanned cheeks. Covered in mud and sticks in the flatlands of the forest, a brotherhood was born.

The all too familiar sting on his sensitive scalp forced Dream back into the present, the oppressive scent of metal such a harsh contrast to the outside world he dreamed of that he couldn’t help but wretch, groaning weakly as Quackity quickly dropped him at the sign of throwing up. Afterall he didn’t want to get his lovely attire too dirty.

“Pathetic. All ready giving up and I’ve barely gotten started.”

The scathing disappointment in Quackitys tone somehow hurt more then the slices in his skin. Forced to lay weakly on his stomach, Dream could only pretend that the lashes criss crossing his back were merely a hallucination, as though he hadn’t just spent hours listening to the well practiced cracking of whips as they sliced into his skin, as though he could just wish away the pain to hear Sapnaps untainted childish laughter one last time.

“Dont FUCKING ignore me.”

But Dream could only wish.

Steel toed boots slammed into his protruding ribs, jostling his weak lungs and forcing a choked up whine to leave the admins mouth, spit and blood along with it. Fuck this is pathetic, Dream thought, his ears filled with static before him body was rolled to the side, forcing his all too visible bones to come into contact with the all too familiar obsidian, the crimson from his back now staining the already bacteria infested floor. The old crusted up blood on the ground stinging its way into the fresh wounds, making him sob in an attempt to arch away from the pain.

“You know Dream, usually you last longer than this. It’s honestly so sad about how weak you are that i’ve decided... Maybe i’ll show you alittle mercy,” Quackity whispered, his voice holding a soft tone that lulled Dreams malleable mind into misplaced comfort, “you’d like that wouldn’t you Dreamie?”

And Dream was weak. He couldn’t help but nod lazily at the obvious manipulation, pure instinctive desperation overriding all rational thoughts. He just wanted it to be over.

“Dreammmmm,” Quackity whined, a manic lilt behind the high pitched tone, “don’t you know it’s impolite to not respond when people offer you things?”

Before Dream could even stutter out a response. An apology a rebuttal, anything, the feeling of his guts being displaced by a burning blade cut through his words. The blood which had been slowly filtering from his organs now spilled from his torn skin, ripped apart by Quackitys gleaming netherite blade, the enchantments boiling his organs to an uncomfortable simmer where it feels as though Dreams blood was bubbling and boiling beneath the surface. More thick crimson fell from Dreams split lips, choking him up as the feeling of blood all over his body overwhelmed his senses, ears too full of cotton to understand Quackitys demeaning words which were likely being spoken, instead too focussed on the sticky substance coating his torso at an unnatural speed.

And just as soon as the blade was there, it was ripped away. The displaced organs now flowing free, uncomfortable sloshing falling into the pool beneath him as something fell out of his torn stomach, the burning of enchantments ever present even as the blade had been torn away, along with it his consciousness. His senses gradually faded away, his slowly beating heart and the feeling of his organs being misplaced within his starved body being the only thing processing in his broken mind. The warm pool of blood cradling his body keeping him mellow in a disturbing juxtaposition to the cold seeping through his bones.

And soon the cold encased him in its familiar grasp as for the nth time, Dream was welcomed into the void.

[Dream was slain by Quackity using {Warden’s Will}]

Chapter Text

Dream couldn’t even find it in himself to react anymore.

The all too familiar clunking and creaking of redstone filtered into his ears once again, the warmth which usually choked him in within its grasp was temporarily replaced with a void like cold that penetrated his taunt skin with ease, the echoing jolting of the platform approaching filling in the usual sound of bubbling lava, the netherite blocks not bothered to be thrown up due to Sams familiarity with the situation at hand.

Soft footsteps promised unending pain as they approached Dreams battered body.

The last sessions respawn had been torturous. His body attempting to replenish his insides as well as seal up his skin had left him weak ( well, weaker than usual ) and heaving for hours on end, every movement making it feel as though the jagged new scar on his stomach were on the brink of reopening and his organs would flood back out of his body at a breath too deep.

But Dream didn’t have time to focus on the guttural pain spanning from his torso as the familiar warmth of lava began to ooze back into the cell, trapping the two monsters within Pandora’s Vault.

“Dream.”

His voice choked in his throat at the mere sound of his name. The risk of his scar splitting open along with the feeling of an anvil crushing his chest to the ground only allowing him to groan weakly in response.

“You know what. Fuck this,” impatience already laced Quackitys tone as rather than instantly starting the session as usual, he instead circled Dream, stirring a deep primal rage in Dreams weakened mind at the thought of being seen like prey, “I’ve allowed you to keep power this entire time. That stupid fucking mask of yours keeping away all your little secrets. I mean no wonder you won’t tell me about the book if we can’t even speak to one another at a face to face level. So we’re gonna change that up today Dreamie. I’m gonna look you in those pretty eyes and carve my memory into them.”

.... What.

Quackitys voice continued to ramble, merely fading into white noise as he probably talked about the new and exciting way Dream was gonna die today but all he could focus on was the horror sitting heavily in his gut. The overwhelming unstoppable panic that flooded his mind. The instinctive rage at the concept of someone even touching his mask, let alone pulling it from his face.

He wanted to take the mask off.

He wanted to take Dreams mask off.

Nonononononono, that couldn’t happen.

Glamour only did so much. Sure it hid away the horns which curved around his head, the claws which curled around his finger tips, it hid the unnatural cyan flush and white freckles splattered across the expanse of his skin, hell it even covered the gaping hole in his chest where his core beat rhythmically, a warm light emancipating from it as an ever present beacon.

But it didn’t hide his eyes. Techno had attempted to describe it once, how people with sight had a vibrant eyes which moved around with wherever they were looking, clear and focussed, whereas Dreams were hazy even with glamour, not the bright green they would be with sight but a soft sage green, his iris tinted an odd whitish blue rather than the usual black, forever giving away his greatest weakness, a vulnerability which would be distorted at will if one found found. Afterall if his blindness was discovered, it wouldn’t be difficult for one to compromise his other senses and leave him helpless, the once feared God nothing more than a blind child, hence the mask which had sat over his face from the age of 11, even being decorated by Sapnap with a smiley face as Puffy described it.

But that mask was his identity. The crude smile was his legacy and the representation of his power, not the broken blind boy hidden behind the cracked porcelain.

Unbeknownst to Dream, his breathing had picked up, mind blurring with fear in a way that he couldn’t recognise, in a way that clouded his consciousness to be reveal with something else. Something aggressive and deep and primal. Something that would tear creatures limb from limb with their intestines strung out like bunting if their possessions were threatened. Something that was so deeply Warden that Dream couldn’t help but twitch at the new unrecognisable rage.

“Awwwww, you crying Dream boy?” Quackity crooned, mistaking his shaking rage for tears, “Don’t want that pretty little face of yours to be revealed huhhhhh. It’s okay,” instead of the usual blood stained rubber glove, Quackitys calloused finger tips ran over his jaw, the touch delicate, almost afraid in how lightly they grazed Dreams skin, “no one will recognise you by the end of it.”

However, Quackitys soft touch didn’t feel like it’s usual manipulative comfort that curled around his consciousness in a lethal cradle, instead it felt like a noose being gently wrapped underneath Dreams jaw and tightening by the second. And he would not be the one getting hung.

He didn’t know what it was about today that broke him. Maybe it was the exhaustion sat heavy on his conscious, maybe it was the inescapable burning in his gut, maybe it was just the concept of being thrown into the void one last time.

But something broke.

The humanity which Dream hid himself behind for years with masks and glamour and cloaks and hoods, finally broke to reveal the beast beneath. The wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Quackitys lean hands reached beneath his mask, hands lingering on his jaw before slowly pulling away the crude porcelain, along with it pulling away Dreams glamour as he allowed his body to reveal its natural appearance.

A tail slowly appeared from Dreams tailbone, covered in smooth scales with a leaf shaped tip that trembled as it helped scope out the environment, starting as a soft sandstone colour and fading into a pale turquoise where the tip of it twitched a curled. The skin pulled taunt over Dreams malnourished chest was tore itself open, skin peeling away and tinting green towards the edges where it showed Dreams hollow chest, the rapid beating of his core now visible as the thumping echoed through the cell, the warm glow emancipating through his crimson stained shirt. Once skinny shoulders thickened, his entire body seeming bulkier as his shoulder elbows and fingertips grew a deep cyan with thickened scales, white freckles decorating his skin like the most hidden away constellation among a galaxy of scars, the soft white dots only ceasing at his finger tips which curled as they turned dark cyan, almost black, sharpening to razor points which twitched in anticipation. The humanoid blunt canines in his jaw extended down to reveal thick hanging fangs, all his teeth sharpened to rip through flesh whilst his canines sat on display as he peeled his lips back to bare them at the human infront of him, an unseen promise of the upcoming events. His ears lengthened slightly, gaining a dark cyan tint on the tips which elongated, hidden by his hair along with the deep cyan over his nose and cheeks like blush, only interrupted by his glowing freckles. Horns curled out of his head, growing upwards before curling circularly over his head, covered in thorn like protrusions which grew and shrunk slightly at the slightly movements echoing into his hypersensitive ears, their glow thumping steadily along with his core.

Quackitys hand still sat under Dreams mask, too focussed on his own power rush to notice the distortion of the man infront of him. Too focussed on his own power to recognise his impending doom.

But that was perfect for Dream.

It made him easy prey.

And with a guttural rumbling snarl he lunged.

Quackity couldn’t even respond before he let out a beautiful shriek of pain, Dreams claws embedding themselves deep within his torso whilst his back was dipped into the lava, burning away his flesh to leave nothing but the heavy smell of burnt flesh and puss in the air. But that wasn’t enough. Afterall he was still breathing. Dream twisted his hand, relishing the gasp Quackity let out before latching his fingers around some random organ and tearing it from Quackitys abdomen, listening to the sound of blood spattering across the floor whilst he snarled, mind completely feral as he spun the man, pulling him away from the lava only for his scorched back to slam into the rough obsidian, making the man scream once again, blood choking up his throat in a painful sounding gag that Dream was all to familiar with. Sharp finger tips gouged back into the mans torso, the uncomfortable squelching of organs being moved echoing through the vault before he latched onto something, his mind lost in the desire to remove the still breathing threat from his vicinity than to care about what he was doing. And so without hesitation he ripped out Quackitys intenstines. Mind full of static as blood splattered on his hands, the organ being pulled from his torso like rope as it was uncoiled. The screaming quietened to heaving sobs to silence.

Finally, there was silence .

With steadier feet than Dream was familiar with, he pulled away from the corpse, listening to the distinct buzz of Quackitys communicator sounding in the cell before his body vanished and his death message popped up, leaving an array of items at Dreams disposal. His tail lashing slightly within the confines of the cell as his inhuman mind tried to process where the body went.

The adrenaline pumped through Dreams veins rapidly in time with the loud fast thumping of his core that filled the cell, his mind hazy with the clashing of his instincts screaming to tear the cell apart bit by bit, to find Quackitys corpse and tear it apart till it was unrecognisable, however his rational mind screamed. A mixture of horror as he attempted to process his actions as well as pure desperation overruled the snarling instincts, instead focussed on how this was his one chance to escape. Afterall Quackitys items were left within Dreams grasp, left over from the loss of his second canonical life. The first beacon of hope with the vault he called hell. And as always, his rational side won over.

With shaky bloodied hands, he reached towards the variety of items displayed before him. The all too familiar buzzing of the enchantments which marred the Wardens weapons kept Dream from even considering touching the cursed objects, scared that even a mere touch would send him spiralling back into pure fear. No no no Dream, concentrate. With awkward delicacy and a trembling form, his clawed hands ran over the items splayed out, ignoring the familiar leather of books or the appetising smell of steak, instead continued his search until his finger made contact with heavy glass, the almost inaudible sound of liquid swirling within the vial giving away its contents.

Potions.

Multiple of them.

Cradling the vials in a softness which juxtaposed his previous acts, Dream carried them further away from the bloodied mess by the lava, his tail sweeping the floor carefully whilst his ears twitched with each soft collision of the glass in his hands, mind rushing at the idea of freedom.

The first vial was a potion of swiftness. The liquid was more dialuted than the other potions, along with there barely being any liquid left due to the heavy effects of it, all signs indicated it was a swiftness potion.

The second vial was one of invisibility. The vile was heavy, likely filled to the brink meaning it could guarantee a solid eight minutes, the liquid was also thicker, not exactly sludge but thicker than most, the familiar weight showing it was definitely a potion of invisibility.

And the final was fire resistance. Once again filled to the brink but the liquid was thick. Sticky like honey as it rolled around within the vial, making it the most difficult to drink but also lasting the longest, it was also much warmer to the touch, indicating its temperature related effects, meaning it had to be a fire resistance potion.

A bang echoed somewhere within the prison, forcing Dream out of his inspection, instead his head darting up and a feral snarl leaving his throat whilst the thorns on his horns trembled in an attempt to understand the noise. It was loud enough to penetrate through the layers of lava which restricted his hearing. Loud enough to send a spike of pure fear through his veins.

He had to escape.

And he had to do it now.

Chapter Text

It burned.

The sticky hot liquid caught in his throat making his milky eyes water and his throat constrict in a weak attempt to push the harsh liquid out of his body, the two other potions already sitting heavy in his gut, the first thing he’d drank in months, let alone managed to keep down. But he couldn’t prevail. Not now.

The sirens blared loudly overhead, somehow managing to penetrate the thick layers of lava surrounding the levitating box he’d come to the grow accustom to. Each ring risked bursting his sensitive ear drums, the cyan tips twitching in an attempt to hide from the pain, his tail curled around his thigh to avoid the harsh vibrations beating up through the obsidian, leaving him feeling obscenely weak with half his senses were brutally violated.

But he was Dream.

Escape was his forte.

No matter how weak.

He could do this shit on half a heart.

And if anytime was to prove it.

It was now.

Adrenaline still pumping through dry veins, Dream lunged into the lava without a moment of hesitation once the vial had forced its way to his stomach, all too familiar with the action of falling into the orange liquids embrace. But rather than being met with his flesh burning away from his skeleton and his throat being scorched by his own screams, instead he fell into its warmth, instinctively kicking his legs out to avoid sinking and forcing his arms to tug him through the thick liquid, tears merging with the all encasing orange as exhaustion already sat heavy in his malnourished bones, desperate to keep afloat before the lava was drained away. His scars tugged and screamed with each movement, every badly healed injury coming back tenfold as he swam through the lava, pure desperation keeping him afloat as he grew all too familiar with the chronic pain shaking his body.

And it appeared luck was on his side. Obsidian soon met scarred hands, just as hot as the lava yet still sent a cold relief through his bones, his atrophied muscles straining pathetically as he tugged himself over the ledge, head smacking the ground with a dull thunk whilst the lava melted off his person, hidden by the invisibility potion he’d choked down his parched throat.

7 minutes of invisibility left.

Dreams head spun dangerously, vertigo completely thrown as he stumbled to weak legs, ignoring the taste of metal coating his throat as his body slowly killed itself, familiarised with the concept of death over the concept of pain. Anything to escape the sirens which had turned to ringing in his ears, consistent and terrifying as he couldn’t process what was surrounding him other than the familiar hard hard obsidian. A whine left his throat involuntarily. Pure fear sat heavily in the forefront of his consciousness, over overruled only by pure desperation to survive. To escape the boiling obsidian to instead feel the cold stone walls beneath his finger tips deep within the caves, freezing from their distance from the sun yet such a warm comfort. To feel each grass blade tickle between his toes, softened by the warm soil of the ground which kept his feet protected as he ran with a carelessness he could no longer picture. To hear the familiar sculk chitter beneath the ground as they guided him through the darkness, a permanent presence to curl around his ankles and guide him to his home.

Home. He wanted to go home.

And with a stifled sob, Dream clambered back up to his feet, ignoring how the obsidian tore up his bare feet to instead focusing on the layout of the prison, as if he remembered correctly, to the right, straight, and to the right again, there should be a hidden lever to the underground where Sams chests were located, followed by an exit to the greater SMP.

Tears never stopped their flow down Dreams hidden face, each drop burning against his cyan cheeks as the salt dripped past his lips and chin, the only evidence of his presence in the empty halls being the steady trail of salt left to melt away into the obsidian, curving with his every turn into the murky hallways where threat of capture sat heavily, hidden behind corners Dream couldn’t even see. The only sign of life within the morbid building being the being that breathed its poison to the land surrounding it, the awful familiarity of mining fatigue gracing Dreams every step, whilst terrifying most to avoid the cold walls where it seeped out to curl around and choke out any in its grasp.

But the suffocating pressure was familiar at this point and Dream could only heave and sob before taking another shaky right turn, his tail lashing against the ground to keep his balance whilst his horns thrummed with each vibration from the still screaming sirens, hyper focussed on picking up any heartbeat other than his own obvious thrumming which pumped rapidly from his core, the sound a dead give away if it weren’t for the screaming overhead.

Once again the rough feeling of obsidian scraped against his palms, the only warning to stop before he almost face planted into the wall infront of him.

The darkness stretch on but the rough texture beneath his hands said otherwise, his tail still lashing as he mapped out the size of the corridor, no heartbeats yet to be detected but the sirens still blared relentlessly overheard meaning reinforcements would be coming soon.

4 minutes invisibility left.

Clawed fingertips felt over the wall to grasp the small lever, warm in his hand amongst the cold. He yanked it down, hissing softly at the loud clanking of redstone as blocks moved beneath his feet to reveal a small hole with a ladder leading down, a cold draft flowing through, the fresh air revitalising something deep within Dream.

He had forgotten what it was like. To not be constantly assaulted by the smell of blood or rotten food or burnt flesh. To instead be welcomed by nature, the way the cold could sting your nose and the way pollen could so easily irritate it. The cold draft whispered his reunion with the sculk. To finally feel the small plant like organisms curling around him in their comforting grasp to guide him away from the pain he’d grown familiar with. To finally grant him the sight he would never know.

Swiftness potion still brimming in his veins, Dream scaled down the ladder sat before him, emaciated body twitching violently at the change in temperature, the oppressive obsidian replaced with cool stone as bloodied feet stepped down the wood, small smears being the only evidence of his escape.

Before his feet could hit the ground, the distinct vibrations of three sets of heartbeats vibrated through his horns, the sirens silencing their voices but the distinct humms of life from the three individuals screamed that his time was running out.

Without having a moment to relish the change in environment, he leaped down to the ground, wincing only at the splinters now added to his broken feet, grunting softly and smiling softly at the loud chittering of sculk that quickly filled senses, screaming their excitement at the return of their fellow deep world creature.

But Dream couldn’t enjoy it. Sams voice shouted overhead, the Wardens voice automatically stilling his escape, the bone deep teachings from the man embedded in his mind. The long reinforced feeling of freezing at the mans voice. To do nothing but obey and plead at his knees to only receive nothing but a backhand and grumbling stomach in return.

“THE CAVE IS OPEN! BLOCK OFF ALL EXITS SURROUNDING THE PRISON!”

Shit fuck shit fuck fuck FUCK.

A shakey heave left Dreams throat, panic once again hazing his mind before he lunged back to his feet, the sculk easily directing him through the darkness towards the small exit. This was familiar. Running from three no matter the odds. He knew what he had to do it. He could do it. He had to. It was what all those years of manhunt had trained him for.

Bloodied feet scraped across the ground as Dream sprinted towards the exit, ignoring the sun on his skin as he dashed away from the prison, ignoring the yells echoing behind him to instead escape beneath the tree line, clawed fingers gouging through the trees as shakey legs turned to a blur in their speed. The pain was irrelevant in this moment, he just needed to get away from the hellhole a mere few chunks away.

The wind rushed past his ears, only processing the chittering of the sculk beneath the surface to lead him somewhere safe. The warmth of the blocked out sunlight surrounded his form as he continued tearing through the forest, the suns warmth ever present in a warm blanket as opposed to the oppressive grip of the lavas heat. The damp grass cradled his bloodied feet and each blade of grass sent a renewed sense of life through his veins, the connection with the earth he had once been deprived off now spurring him onwards. Even as the once warm sunlight turned to hovering snowflakes. Even as the damp grass turned to fluffy snow. Even as the trees thinned out to the open lands. He kept on going with nothing but the earths thrumming and the sculks chirping to guide him home.

30 seconds of invisibility left.

Because he was Dream. He was the one who got out of the most obscure situations. He was the one who could kill thrice over without repercussions. He was the one with the power to manipulate the world as he pleased. He was Dream.

And he’d be damned if he let Sam or Quackity beat him.

With hypothermia wracking his form, accompanied by blue toes and crimson arms, he continued on.

The snow sat heavy in his hair, decorated like a halo as the soft flakes placed themselves on deep turquoise horns and matted red hair, the untainted snowflakes a morbid oxymoron to his monsterous form.

The sculk chittered softly, leading him through the below zero temperatures of the tundra, promising his return to safety, each chirp whispering silent reassurances, the only ones he could ever trust. The only ones that would wish him nothing but freedom from harm. The ones that would promise his return to a place away from pain and suffering. The ones who promised his return home.

Maybe that was why he let himself go. Why he allowed the all powerful Dream to finally give into his pain.

With the invisibility potion fading out to reveal his broken form to the bare eye, he’d finally found his home.

“Dream?”

So he let himself go.

Chapter Text

Warmth. It was the first thing that processed in his pain-riddled mind. It sunk deep into his bones, leaving him soft and malleable, leaving him calm and safe, leaving him unaware and vulnerable. But that was wrong. That wasn’t allowed. Dream wasn’t allowed to be blessed with mattresses that cradled his stiff spine, to have thick blankets which’s warmth sunk into repeatedly broken bones to instead ease him into a state of calm instead of his perpetual state of pain. He wasn’t allowed comfort. He wasn’t allowed happiness, or relaxation or help or sympathy or niceties.

He was a monster.

And monsters deserve nothing but the harsh truth.

That they’re nothing but another piece of scum in the world, another corpse to be left in the ditches and to rot away by the river to corrupt the land just as their souls did. To be slain as worthlessly as the mindless mobs that wandered the lands, afterall, if anything he was worse. He couldn’t provide for anyone, he caused more harm than good, his very existence hurting those around him, his death was a kindness in itself.

This was wrong. He was breaking the rules. He was breaking Quackitys rules.

And that always lead to punishment.

He didn’t want punishment.

Glazed eyes shot open to stare into the familiar void, his breath hitching dangerously in his impure lungs which sent fresh pain through his carefully bandaged ribs. He was gonna be punished, he didn’t want to be punished. He didn’t want it. He could be better. He would be better. Anything other than this please Quackity please please—.

Something warm brushed against his skin. It was firm but warm, textured like calloused skin, the contact sending a sharp jolt through his spine. Someone was touching him. Someone was here. Someone was here.

With a pathetic sounding cry which bordered between a snarl and a whimper that wretched out of his mouth, Dream instantly flinched away from the touch, back-pedalling away from the warmth as terror swarmed his groggy mind, hardly noticing as his bandaged back fell from the soft mattress to smack into hard wood, instead all too focussed on getting away before he takes off the mask, before he pressed the burning brand to your ribs again and cuts out your tongue with a manic laugh again.

A harsh smack along with the smooth yet cold wall on his back signified he’d hit the wall. Afterall the cell was only so large. A pained whimper punched from his lungs at the contact, overwhelming pain blossoming across his face and back and neck and arms and legs and hips and—.

His face.

Tears continued their decent down his face, running over cyan skin and sandstone scars, the salty tear tracks caught the cold air as they dripped down, not forcefully smudged like when his mask sat comfortably on his face but instead open for the world to see.

His mask was gone, his glamour was gone. They’d seen him for who was was. They knew. They were gonna tear his horns off to display on their walls and gouge out his eyes to float around in a pretty jars. Or maybe they’d sell him into the black market to be use and abused as a pet or perhaps someone’s personal toy. He’d never get to finish learning piglin from Techno, he’d never get to go flying with Phil, he’d never get to play manhunt with Sapnap. He was doing to die. They were going to carve him to piece and kill him.

Dream felt himself sob again, a vaguely human sound as opposed to the choked up whimpers previously leaving his perched throat. His head was stuffy with a lethal combination of fear and rage, the emotions waging war within his fractured mind, leaving him with nothing to do but gasp breathlessly and spasm away from his own pain. As always his sight was shrouded in darkness, a familiar comfort so he wouldn’t be forced with the terror of watching his executioner being the blade down.

But something was wrong.

The corner he was back into didn’t have the familiar ridges of obsidian, instead it was smooth and cold, comforting on his inflamed back as to oppose the usual overbearing heat that always emancipated from the walls of Pandora’s Vault. The familiar bubbling and popping of lava didn’t add to the static of his ears, no whirring of redstone or sharpening of knives, instead there was.... Rumbling? It was low and guttural, each sound grating against one another yet it was fluent and smooth spoken, as though the one speaking it were familiar with the inhuman pronunciation. The sound pushed through the static of his mind to border the memories which sat preserved behind the fresher memories of pain and torture. It brought fourth memories defended by those walls. Memories of fatty hands cradling his clawed ones to guide his hands over stubby tusks and plush lips. To feel over paper thin scars on hot skin and run sharpened fingers through silky smooth locks in intricate patterns to form a familiar braid.

It was broken and disjointed through the mind of one so familiarised with pain. But each rumble spoke of soft hands and even softer words. Each rumble which was slowly recognised in his mind to be words, spoken in a language known by few on the server.

“T̶̫̠̎̏e̸͙̭̓c̴̞̍͝ḧ̴̙̣͓́ṋ̶̡̎ō̴̝͛͠.̵̦͆̈.̷̬͂̔̇.̵͓̋̍̕.̷̘͕͐.̸̘̝̐̀͜?̴̨̟̈́̈́͝“

However his barely audible word wasn’t in the common language most spoke but he instantly knew by the pausing of Piglin language that the other understood. His raspy words were spoken in the low warbles and chirps of the Warden language he’d grown up in, each sound coming from lower in his throat to avoid vibrating the crimson coated vocal cords required to speak common. A weak attempt at to sooth his throat as well as his broken mind.

“You back with me Dream?” Technos words reverted back to common, his voice monotone as always but that familiar soft undertone rumbled with it in a way Dream had only ever heard used on himself and Phil, the soft undertone that help non of the manic excitement of Quackitys voice nor the sweet manipulation of Sams. It was something so purely Technoblade that the sob that wretched out of his throat finally wasn’t caused by pain.

“ T̵̰̹̖̕e̴̘͕̲͒c̶̩͈̐ḧ̶̩̳͚i̴̟̽ê̷͔͎̩,” Dream warbled out again. His half human half warden mind too desperate for his friend to notice that the man probably didn’t know what he was saying, “ Ṱ̶̮̈́̕ͅe̷̹͙̋̓c̴̣͓̰͛h̷̨̓̉̕ ̶̜̦̱̇̊̉Ţ̴̙͋̎͗ẽ̸̡̱͠c̵̱̋̔h̸͇̒ ̶̦̝͊̕Ţ̵̝̾̔͛ḙ̴̚c̴̠̗̖̔̑̽ĥ̸̥̹͙ ̴̛̪̠͈̓͒T̴͍̻̆̎͜e̸̼͑c̴̩̑̚h̷͇͊̈́̀—̵͔̪͂̀͝“

Dreams rambles were cut off with calloused hands wrapping around his own, the heat so familiar yet he couldn’t help the way tension shot down his spine at the contact, head leaning away slightly as he flinched in fear of the pain he’d learned came with contact

“Shhhh shhh.... It’s alright i’m here... I’m here cave boy i’m here....”

The mocking nickname sent a wave of warmth through Dream, his boney clawed finger tips instantly tightening around the warmer ones cradling his.

Cave boy.

Dream could still recall the first time he’d met Techno, the small piglin standing besides Phil whilst he hid behind Puffy, his lip bared in a silent threat whilst the adults conversed and traded in the common language he had yet to learn, but he could clearly remember the syllables that left Technos mouth as he apparently pointed at Dream, referring to him as the ‘Cave Boy’ since he’d overheard Puffy stating she found Dream in the entrance of a cave. And the nickname stuck. Whether it was taunting during spars or half murmured words during cuddles, Dream always knew the nickname was a term of endearment, specific to the duo that could only be spoken in the safest of situations. Afterall, if the name were to be heard by others that would for surely prompt unanswerable questions. It was was a nickname that promised safety.

Safety.

Dream couldn’t remember what it was like to be safe.

“We need to get out of this corner, can I pick you up?”

Dream couldn’t find it in himself to respond verbally. He may have only been conscious for a few minutes but the juxtaposing emotions which crammed in his mind each felt like weights trying to pull his body into the haze of unconsciousness rather than dealing with his emotions. He was hurt too. The pain slowly trickled back into Dreams body as he processed the bandages covering every inch of his skin excluding his face. His ribs ached as every thump of his core sent vibrations through the damaged bones, his lungs wheezing from his previous panic attack adding to the chest pain. His thighs ached whilst his feet stung, left over pain from his treacherous run from the prison, still a surprising feat if he were to be honest. His back felt sticky. From falling off the bed to slamming into the wall, the puss oozing infected wounds had torn back open, now openly excreting the disgusting fluids along with radiating far more heat than was healthy.

With a lazy nod, Dream tightened his grip on Technos fingers, wincing and whimpering softly as the piglin slowly pulled him to his ruined feet, the wood such a stark contrast to the boiling obsidian he’d grown familiar with he couldn’t help the low chirp of confusion that ground out his throat, pulling a much gentler rumble from Techno as he was pulled to his feet, a warm arm wrapping around his waist as his breath hitched on the touch, body flinching away yet the touch not wavering. Cautiously, the duo stumbled back towards what Dream assumed was the bed, the soft material sinking slightly as Dream sat down, thick blankets instantly pulled over him before being pushed back softly, his body falling limp on the bed with a grunt, exhaustion threatening to pull him under until Technos hands finally pulled away, instantly making Dream whine at the loss of contact.

He didn’t know if he wanted to push the man away or curl himself around the other, the two forces of touch aversion and touch starvation weighing heavily in his mind. He couldn’t remember the last time he was given a choice that didn’t end in pain, the last time he was given an option that wasn’t just another mindfuck to further break him.

What if this was just another trick?

What if it isn’t real?

What if it’s all just a dream?

Techno apparently made the choice for him, rewrapping his hands around Dreams and squeezing alittle more than softly, the tightness around his hands bringing Dream back to the present, unaware of how his core had started beating quicker or his tail had tightened around his waist,

“I’ll stay here with you. I’m always here with you, till the end of the line.”

Blank eyes softened slightly at the words, spoken in piglin yet just as familiar as the first time the boy had spoken them,

“ t̴͔̗̫̉í̷̪̀͒l̷̨͖͊̎ḽ̷̖͘ͅ ̶̡̞͝ṯ̷͊͋ẖ̴̬͎̽̓e̷̤̞͐ ̷̣͈̲̿̿e̵̥̩̅̎̑ṉ̷̺͌́d̸̜͓͑ ̵̙͖̑̌o̷̺͉͛̈́̋f̸̨̭̘͌̈ ̷̯͎̒̀̒ṭ̷͕̦͝h̷͍̪̿̐é̷̩̻ ̴͙̃̅l̶̢̯̤̉̾̾í̶̝̭̅͝ń̶͔̝ę̴̐,” he warbled back in warden, feeling his lips curve into a hesitant smile at the low chuckle Techno let out, the comforting presence pulling Dream further into sleep.

With warm blankets cradling his body and even warmer hands cradling his own, he finally allowed himself to be pulled back into the warm embrace of sleep, not being forcefully murdered or passing out, but finally sinking into the safety of unconsciousness with his own will. His first decision. There was no Sam threatening his rights and bargaining his freedom on the revival of others. There was no Quackity slicing to his skin and mind to break what was already broken. There were no fake words and fake reassurances, only the familiar warmth of his real friend by his side, terrifying and monstrous to others, yet the greatest comfort Dream had throughout his life. As the duo fell into sleep, a gentle meow echoed through Dreams ears. Patches. The small bundle of fur lay comfortably against his back, the high pitched purs coaxing out his own deeper croons and therefore Technos even deeper ones. It was his first realise that he’d truly be granted freedom.

He was free.