Chapter Text
Dream never really knew his father, well, that's a half-lie.
He remembered the sweet longing look in his father's eyes when he gave him a cookie for lunch, he remembered the soft-dark wings that wrapped around him when he had a nightmare. He remembered the promising whispers that told him about the wonderful life he was going to live.
He also remembered it suddenly come to an end.
He remembered feeling confused when all of a sudden the sweet blue eyes were gone from his sight and replaced with worried brown ones. The sudden warmth of the dark-grey wings gone, replaced with a white blanket and new voices surrounding him. The lady spoke in a hushed tone, her voice sweet and concerned for the young boy left at their doorstep. His husband spoke back; confused and lovingly, trying to calm down his wife to the best of his abilities.
Dream grows up with them, old faded memories of the person he called his father slowly fading. What was his name? Dream loves the little village he's being raised in, he stays close to his mother when out in the market, he holds his father's hand when walking to the docks. The two teach him how to live, Dream is forever grateful for that. Even though they're not his parents, but they might as well be.
Myra is the village's medic, her heart shines brighter than gold and as such is her husband as well. The man equals her out, a perfect pair matched in heavens the villagers think.
She remembers the night she found Dream. It was late October, she and Mateo had just celebrated their first marriage anniversary. They were walking home late at night, the only thing illuminating the streets were small street lights the village ordered. Myra thought she heard something so she spun around, letting go of her husband's arm in the progress, Mateo spun with her confused staring at his wife.
Myra squinted her eyes at the dark alleyway they had just come from yet managed to catch nothing, just a small sound of wings taking off. Birds she concluded after. She reassured her husband it was fine with a sweet smile, he nodded and they began walking again. The two were talking about their friends when arriving at their shared home, Mateo was stopped when he felt his wife stop, frozen in place.
"What's wrong, love?" Mateo looked puzzled upon seeing his wife's worried and shock-written expression. He turned to see what his wife was staring at when laying eyes on a small kid on the ground, he couldn't look over 4. He was snapped out of his gaze when Myra stepped forward, crouching to the ground to meet the eye-level of the kid.
"Hey, kid. Are you okay?" She bit her lip when the boy didn't answer, "What's your name sweetheart?" she asks instead, praying that the kid can at least speak their language.
"Dr-Dream.." His voice is raspy and young, his green eyes unfocused and locked in a place to the right where no one stood.
She gives a smile, "That's a beautiful name, sweetheart, do you want to come inside with us? There's lots of warmth there." Mateo always admired how she could stay calm in the weirdest of situations. The boy hesitantly nodded and that was enough for Myra to offer him a hand, pulling him into the warmth of their home. When inside she wrapped him in a white blanket and called to talk with his husband.
"Love- Who would leave a child here?" She shares a pitiful look towards the child who seems to be drifting into a longing sleep on their couch. "What are we going to do with him?" Mateo wraps his arms around her, sharing a comforting hug when he doesn't know what to say. "I hate to think of this like that, but-" Tears decorate his wife's face. "I don't think anyone is coming for him." The sentence is spoken in a whisper, but alas Mateo hears her.
"We'll talk with him in the morning, love, we can figure out things then." He smiles sweetly, Myra nods with a small muttered goodbye and walks next to Dream. Placing a small kiss on his forehead as a goodnight, she heads to their shared bedroom.
Mateo is left staring at the child, Dream, his face looked to be ridden with tear tracks and his clothes covered in mud. Who are your parents, kid? He shares the same pitied look as did his wife a mere 5 minutes ago.
They raise Dream on their own; Myra teaches him how to read and write a little, as well as going as far as teaching him a simple recipe for a healing potion, Mateo teaches Dream how to say simple things in Ender, he learns quickly.
They don't find out who Dream's parents were, and frankly, they stopped caring once Dream called them mommy and daddy after two years of living with them. They guided Dream through 7 years of living, the villagers dared to say they were a perfect family. But of course, like all good things, it comes to an end.
Some people still argue that it came to an end too fast.
Pillagers raid the village, no survivors but a young 11-year old kid crying from the death of his parents. He gives each of the graves a red rose, wishing his final goodbyes before heading to the forest.
When he was 12, just 5 months after leaving his village behind, he stole a mask. An unusual porcelain white mask where he later drew a black smiley, it became his. Something to hide the appearance that he shared with his birth father.
When he was 17, over half a decade later, he met new people, George and Sapnap. Sapnap's father, Bad, took him in when he confessed that he didn't have a home, he truly didn't understand the point of it. He'd been living on his own for 5 years now.
"Who were your parents?" Were. It's always were, was, used to be. Never is.
"I barely remember my father, he left me alone when I was four. I like to think Myra and Mateo were my parents." Bad nodded, lips pressed in a straight line.
"Do you remember anything about your father?" Bad turns around, his back now turned to the 17-year old. He opens the cupboard fishing out a snack.
"Wings." Dream shrugged, grabbing the cookie out of Bad's hands when he offered it to him.
"Wings?" Bad asked, brows furrowed. He glanced out the window, the moon was already out.
"Black ones, dark." He gestured to his back, eating the cookie slowly before pausing for a second, "This isn't poisoned, is it?"
Bad chuckled, he sometimes forgot how intimidating he could be. "No, no, no, it's a homemade recipe from my parents." Dream nods at that, continuing to eat. "So, no name?"
"Philza," He figured out the name during his travels, there aren't many older fighters who have large, black wings. "Figured that out on my own." Bad knew this name, of course he did, Phil only lived a few villages south. And Phil's sons had gotten close with George and Sapnap over the years, not to mention that Dream's explanation of 'dark, black wings' seemed to match Phil's.
"He has 3 sons now, crazy isn't it?" Dream chuckles, as much as he tried to deny the fact that Phil is his father it comes back to haunt him. The memories of soft, dark wings wrapping around him when a child taunted his dreams. "Didn't even replace me with one, but three boys." Bad wasn't blind or deaf, he could hear the pain that was hidden by the words and 'uncaring' sentences.
And since Bad wasn't deaf he heard the 'were' when describing the people that took him in, his eyes softened and his lips turned to a frown.
So he said the only thing he could, "You have me now, and Sapnap, and George- and even my husband, Skeppy. He should be home tomorrow, he took a trip to the next village down the road."
Dream nodded, his cookie was now finished and his hands were sitting loosely in his lap. "Can you not tell them about me- about Phil?"
Bad nodded, "Of course, of course, you can tell them when you want to. They'll always be there." Dream felt hopeful, always wasn't a word used by him often. It was only temporary, never forever. He smiled and walked to the couch falling safely asleep there with new friends and family that were supposed to stay forever.
"Just tell me you hate me."
"Me? Oh, me trying to divide us?"
"You never cared about us."
He now stands on the opposing side of his friends and family that were supposed to be there forever, he stands opposite of Phil's new family being the reason they look so grim right now.
His mask still lays upon his head, the white porcelain a little dirty with blood but the black smile is still there. This time it brings nightmares instead of dreams. He sees Bad's concerned expression as he lifts his weapon ready to fight, he will never win, he knows this.
"Your reign of tyranny is over." Wilbur's point stands and everyone backs him up, he can see his father Phil in the back, his black wings stretched out largely as he watches his son the masked man pick a foolish fight. Sometimes, late at night, Dream wonders if Phil knows it's him, if he decided to do nothing but ignore his child's existence. "Step down, Dream."
The laugh escapes his lips before he can stop it, "What tyranny? As I see it I'm the one being cornered in an unfair fight, not you." No one notices the way his voice shakes when speaking, the slight tremble in his tone as he tries to act out the false confidence he gathered a while back.
"Don't pin this on us, Dream, you were the one who waged war against L'manburg." He holds back a laugh, are they still on this?
"They took a part of my land, they started a drug lab, they pushed the war. They refused to apologize." He points at Tommy, then Wilbur, then Techno, then at Phil. "I did what I thought right for my friends, my family." It stings that Sap and George stand on the opposing side, that they believed a teenager of their friend. It hurts that Bad took the side of the wrongings when he knows his reasons.
"Surrender or we're forced to fight," Techno speaks, his infamous blade pointed at Dream. Dream stares at him, he looks at the man who his father adopted after 2 years of abandoning his own, he sees the non-faltering ego and confidence, he sees the fighting moves that can challenge his own. He sees a fight he can't win. "Drop your items."
Dream hols his weapon in front of him before dropping it, along with his armor, then the random stuff he held in his bag. His stance doesn't falter, his head is tilted up as he looks at the crowd in front of him watching him drop his items one by one.
"We said everything." Tommy's obnoxious voice speaks up, they can't be serious.
"No."
He hears the slap of wind and there's a blade at his neck, threatening with warm blood already dripping from the wound. The sword stops after the wielder understands that they made their point clear, Dream looks down at the grass.
His hands got to the back of his head, he looks straight at the crowd, he looks at Bad who looks horrified. He sees the guilt in his eyes and the fear he holds for the 21-year old. He looks at his father, Phil, who stands next to Bad waiting for the tyrant to strip from the thing that hid his humanity. Dream looks straight at Phil when he undoes the strings that hold his mask, he drops it on the ground next to his sword.
Everyone now sees the aquamarine eyes that were described as emerald greens, why do they look like Phil's, like Tommy's? Everyone sees the freckles dotted on his tan cheeks, why do they look like Phil's? They see the dirty blonde hair that now flows free in the wind unrestricted with the green hood, the hair color is Phil's.
He feels the eyes of Techno, Tommy and Wilbur widen, he hears the low gasps that each one lets out. He sees Phil's aquamarine-blue eyes widen in- confusion? guilt? fear? - He sees the way his black wings shrink and fold in. He avoids Phil's gaze now, staring at Bad next to him. Bad's eyes are glazed over, on the brim of tears as his eyes hold the guilt.
"And?" He speaks, and now it's obvious that Phil's and Dream's voices even sound alike. Almost like an exact copy, like father like son.
Wilbur coughs, "Right, Dream, you are sentenced to life in Pandora's Vault." Sam steps out, ready to take him to his doom. Dream complies, only speaking when they pass Phil and Bad.
"Like father like son." His tone is mocking, bittersweet as he's pushed forward by Sam to keep walking. He rolls his eyes but makes no effort to stop the creeper-hybrid.
You think it's your fault.
Essentially it is. You abandoned your son when he was only four, you were the one to break promises. You were the one who replaced him in only a year. You were the one who forgot him.
You wrap your wings around yourself, hiding from the world and the quiet whispers that come from your three sons and other friends. You shatter under the despiteful look of Bad who knew, you curse yourself for how he turned out.
You thought it was right when you abandoned him on that couple's doorstep, you hated yourself when you came back 7 years later to see the village destroyed and your son nowhere near. You accepted his death, you mourned silently in your room with your new sons laughing along with themselves in the living room.
A decade later you walk alongside your sons, to the place where the land's leader would be lead to his doom.
You feel your wife's eyes on you even from heaven, you're deaf to her whispers about how this man, how this tyrant, is your son. You stand at the back of the crowd, watching as your sons corner the man with swords, you see the masked stranger raise a sword like he's about to fight, you see him drop it in front of him.
You hear the demand of his mask be removed, you almost feel his eyes on you as he reaches to the back of his head and unclasps his mask, letting it fall on the forest floor.
Your eyes widen at the sight, at the dirty blonde hair that resembles yours, at the starry freckles that you wear with pride, at the aquamarine eyes that resemble your old child's, at the soft pink smirk that ghosts his lips after seeing your reaction.
You watch as your son is led to his life sentence in an inescapable prison, you see the complete void in his eyes as he's being dragged away from the people who were his family. You see the complete hatred he has to the man who abandoned him as a toddler, to the man who started this all, to you.
You hear your wife's words of how dumb you were to forget, you hear her accepting your apologies even though she shouldn't, you abandoned their child, you let him evolve to the monster he became.
You now see how the man didn't have a father. You remember how you abandoned him. You know how no one stayed and you know you won't either.
This monster isn't your son, he might have been, he isn't now.
You forget to see him as human.