Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

For as long as Ranboo can remember he has been alone.

In Hypixel it mattered not whether you were hybrid or human- if you proved your combat prowess then you were equal in everyone’s eyes. Only the top rankers were treated differently. Viewed as legendary warriors with all the riches one could ever want and a reputation that will last down the ages. Ranboo spent his days climbing the ranks of tournament leaderboards embracing the validation from his peers, but at the end of the day, that’s all it was. 

Validation.

His amnesia made it near impossible to remember any past he may have once had. Temporary alliances between others ended once a game finished. Being born half enderman half unknown made him naturally threatening to others who were made a point to avoid him.

Ranboo thought he was happy with his bleak life, fighting against other Players for meaningless numbers, spending his nights in a dingy room eating dinner alone.

Until he received a letter with a green wax seal.

The Dream SMP.

Ranboo heard about the infamous news of the war against Pogtopia and Manburg so he knew tensions were high on the server, but he also knew this was a rare opportunity. 

Packing his meager belongings, Ranboo left his life behind for a fresh start.

He just hadn’t expected so much hostility on his first day. It may have had to do with his previous experiences in Hypixel compared to now, but he stayed optimistic. Even when he was killed repeatedly trying to escape from spawn, a man in green stabbing a sword through his chest over and over again laughing as he respawned, he hoped to earn the respect and kindness of everyone on the server.

A week into Ranboo’s stay, he’s met with the server’s famous troublemaker.

“Ranboo, my man,” Tommy greets with too much cheer for how late in the night it is. “How do you feel about crime? ”

Ranboo ultimately had no choice in the matter. Tommy was friends with most people on the server, and if he got on the teen’s good side then maybe he could help him fit in. As far as Ranboo knew, there were no rules against griefing. No one had actually explained the server rules to him upon his arrival. Tubbo had just patted him on the back and reassured him he’d be fine as was. Tommy assured him it would be alright, and it was just a prank, so there was no real harm.

“You know what, Ranboo?” Tommy leans back on his heels. Ranboo finishes dumping the items they stole into the chests. He lays the mined bricks over the chests concealing them away. Tommy had wanted to burn the place down, but Ranboo fought against it until the teen eventually relented. But he seems to have moved past that now. A shoulder comes to bump against his. “I’d go as far as to describe this as perfect!”

“Yeah- you know what, this went great!” Ranboo smiles, his tail swishing across the blackstone. He did it. He made his first friend.

“You’re my bitch now!”

“Uh- thank you? Thank you, I’ll take it!”

After that, Ranboo hadn’t thought much of it. Tommy never came by again and Ranboo busied himself with new plans. He spent the next few days building an ice cream shop with Fundy. It was nice fake arguing with Niki and Puffy over which of their business’ were better, feeling more and more like the teenager he is.

On Ranboo’s tenth day, he woke to heavy banging on his front door. He blinks slowly as he wakes up, the room still hazy from his sleep-addled eyes. At first, he mistook the pounding as rain so he paid it no mind as he sat up and stretches, his whole body aching, unused to his new bed. He’s noticed it rains a lot on the server. It’s only when Ranboo stood up to begin his day, preparing on renovated his house more, that the noise registers as someone at his front door.

Tubbo stands on the other side of his door looking exhausted if his wrinkled suit and heavy eyebags are anything to go off of. Behind him are the other members of the nation’s cabinet, Quackity and Fundy, the former looking positively pissed whereas Fundy just looks uncomfortable. Last, but not least, is Tommy. His head is turned to the side and his arms crossed over his chest, his cheek reddening with the build-up of a bruise, otherwise unharmed. Ranboo’s heart rate spikes slightly, his palms growing damp and his breath quickening in slightly labored panic. His instincts told him to run. He stood his ground.

“Uh...is everything alright?” Ranboo attempts at a light-hearted tone, wringing his hands together.

“Ranboo, on the behalf of L’manburg, I need you to come with us.” Tubbo’s voice is abnormally calm. A pair of cuffs jingle from his hand.

“What’s going on?”

“Enough of the bullshit, man,” Quackity snaps borderline screaming. It has Ranboo recoil in shock. Every time Ranboo saw the man he was always smiling and cracking jokes. He shoves past Tubbo and takes the cuffs from his hands. “You’re being placed under arrest.” His left arm is yanked from his chest, an unforgiving hand holding his wrist in a vice grip, locking the cuffs together.

“But-” why is he the only one in cuffs? Why isn’t Tommy saying anything? Millions of questions race through Ranboo’s mind as he is dragged alongside the cabinet members.

Then Ranboo sees the pitch-black walls that border the nation. Was this his fault? He couldn’t remember doing anything that could warrant walls being placed, and he’s fairly certain these weren’t here before. He glances to Tommy, desperate for answers, only for him to sullenly turn away.

The entire walk is unnervingly silent, filled with only the distrustful glances of the cabinet members and hateful glares thrown his way by the citizens of L’manburg they pass. The underhanded remarks worm their way underneath his skin and take root in his mind, giving his brain more ammunition against itself. With every trip and stumble, Quackity strengthens his grip and yanks him back up until the cuffs rub his skin raw and bleeding, a few sizes too small pinching painfully into the skin.

All the while, Ranboo wonders just what he did wrong.

Eventually, the group reaches their destination; a courthouse Ranboo vaguely remembers seeing on his tour. Outside of it stand four people. Dream stands slightly in front of George as if intending to protect the other man from the group. Niki and Karl are there as well looking extremely uncomfortable.

“Oh fuck off,” Tommy spat glaring in Dream’s direction. “This is bullshit! I haven’t done anything, and neither has Ranboo! You dickheads are just desperate to blame someone for your problems!”

“Tommy,” Tubbo sighs pinching the bridge of his nose. “You aren’t helping your case. Look, I need you to stand in that cell.”

Quackity shoves at Ranboo’s back until he’s standing on the opposite side in front of his own cell. The cell seems smaller than it actually was. Ranboo doubts he could even fit without hunching in on himself. 

“I’m not going in there! I shouldn’t even be punished right now- I haven’t done anything! ” From the other side, Tommy’s shouts reach Ranboo’s ears, the pure betrayal in his voice making his stomach churn.

A violent push against his back has him stumbling into the back of the cell, hands bracing against cold bricks, his head hitting the too-low ceiling. Obsidian emerges from the floor blocking the cell off leaving only a small gap to see through. There is glass underneath- the only thing keeping him safe from the water beneath his feet. 

This was planned. They knew Ranboo was immune to lava, so they replaced it with water.

This wasn’t a fair trial.

Everyone is shouting.

His ears fold against his head and his tail tucked between his legs, the panic swelling in his chest making it harder to breathe. The walls are closing in around him. Any minute now they’ll crush him. He needs to be let out, but his tongue feels like lead. Ranboo can only watch the people he thought could be his friends argue amongst each other, accusations being thrown around, fingers pointed, bonds of trust broken.

“Ranboo,” George comes to stand in front of his cell. He stares Ranboo down from behind his goggles, looking just as intimidating as a king should, the arguing coming to a stop behind him. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“I- uh. Um. I-” Ranboo stammers, his heart thumping in his ears. He doesn’t even know why he’s on trial. He meets Tommy’s gaze across the courthouse. The teen looks just as afraid as Ranboo feels, exhaustion wearing down on him, his bruised cheek making the guilt worse. Although only a handful of people were in the courthouse, it felt as if thousands of eyes were staring at him from every angle placing a spotlight on him and waiting for his response.

There is no escape off of this stage.

“I did it.” His voice wavers with the weak lie. “I did it so please...please just…”

“Do you have that on record, Fundy?” Tubbo asks. His voice is passive despite everything. Ranboo chews on the inside of his cheeks until they bleed and his claws dig into his arms. “Ranboo, I have been advised to exile you.”

“Tubbo!” It’s Niki who speaks up, her voice quiet but strong. “You can’t do this! This- there must be a mistake!”

“Do you really want a Face-Eater here?” Quackity shouts followed by a clipped laugh. “We all know what happened with Techno! And don’t get me started on Schlatt! It’s only a matter of time before he turns on us too!”

“It’s honestly a good idea…” Fundy pipes up, ears pinned to his head, lips curled in a grimace. “Schlatt may have been a passive mob but there was no telling when he’d snap. And when he did...”

“That doesn’t mean anything! Tubbo, please!”

For a moment, Ranboo sees Tubbo hesitate. He takes a deep breath. “It’s decided. It’s an...extreme measure but a necessary one. L’manburg has had its fair share of enemies and wars, and we are hoping to put that in our past. We don’t want criminals on our lands any longer." He turns to the masked admin. "Dream, after he gathers his things I’d like you to escort him off our lands.”

“Please! You can’t do this!” Niki struggles as she watches Ranboo be dragged from the cell, her eyes filling with tears. Iron chains are hooked to his cuffs and handed over to Dream who has not spoken the entire time. He gives the chain a firm tug. Ranboo stumbles forward.

All the while, Tommy stays silent.

The next few hours are a blur.

Ranboo gathers his belongings into a sack and follows Dream to the boat that would take him away. No one sees them off. He wonders what will happen to his house, to the ice cream shop, to the place he hoped to call home. The island fades off on the horizon.

Ranboo still doesn’t know why he was exiled in the first place. But he can make this work! Yeah, being alone isn't so hard. All he needs to do is-

“Ranboo,” Dream says, voice chillingly calm in a way that cuts through the silence, a sword in hand. Thunder roars above foretelling a storm. “I need you to throw your things into the pit.”

“What?” Ranboo clutches his sack tighter. “But...this is all I have. I can’t just-”

In a matter of seconds, Dream’s entire demeanor flips on its head. “Ranboo, is that a no?” His voice is low and threatening. His wrist turns to brandish the enchanted sword. “Answer me, Ranboo.”

Before Ranboo can try running, Dream swings. The blade connects with his leg, slicing through the muscles. Ranboo is sent collapsing to his knees without support. His bones release a sickening crunch when Dream rips his sword out. The teen cries out at the pain that wracks his entire body, struggling to hold back his tears. What has Ranboo scream is when he catches sight of his dismembered leg a few feet away, blood seeping into the grass.

Through blurry eyes, Ranboo watches Dream scoop up the fallen sack and toss it into the hole he dug. His fallen crown is kicked inside as well. A match is lit. He watches the thin stick be dropped, flames bursting out consuming everything he owned.

“Why-” Dream’s mask turns at Ranboo’s croak. A few drops of rain dot the ground. His fingers curl into the dirt. “Why are you doing this..?”

“Because-” a foot kicks his chest forcing Ranboo onto his back. Dream slams his boot down on his chest, leaning over him casually. “You ruined my plans. I’ll be coming back in a couple of days to check on things. Who knows, maybe this will be a good lesson for you.”

The weight lifts off his chest and Ranboo watches Dream’s silhouette disappear in the distance. Thunder tears through the heavens bringing rain with it. Ranboo curls into a fetal position in a futile attempt to shield himself from the water, too far to crawl for shelter. He lays there until the rain burns through his skin and stops his heart.

Ranboo wakes up in a bed. He jolts into a sitting position, tossing the raggedy blankets over. A relived warble tears free from his throat when he sees his leg- both legs- safely in one piece. He’s sat inside a dirt hovel he managed to put together before- before-

A hand slaps over his mouth. He swallows back the bile that threatens to escape feeling a cold shudder ripple down his spine. Harsh wind whistles through the cracks of the poorly made walls, the occasional rain droplet slipping through the ceiling. 

Knees pulled to his chest and arms wrapped around them, Ranboo allows himself to cry.

Chapter Text

“I’m going to need your stuff, Ranboo,” Dream hums having shadowed him for most of the day. He even helped Ranboo collect food. He could almost fool himself into believing Dream had no ulterior motive. Until now. Ranboo’s eyes widen and he spins, shaking hands gripping onto his iron sword in a vice grip. He had spent the past two days grinding for as many materials as possible. This wasn’t his first time living in the wild and fending for himself. Dream laughs a bit, shaking his head with his hands up. “It’s for your own good.”

“How is taking my things for my own good?” Ranboo can’t believe what he’s hearing. Even when he came to this island he didn’t have any good items- just the diamond pickaxe Niki gave him. Now it’s nothing more than ash in a hole he’s been avoiding like the plague.

He moves too quickly for Ranboo’s eyes to see. A hand roughly grips his chin forcing Ranboo to maintain eye contact through the eyeholes of his mask.

“Ranboo, give me your stuff.”

The sight of the sword on his hip sends a ripple of phantom pain down Ranboo’s leg. He can’t go through that pain again. Never again. Dream watches Ranboo take off his helmet and boots tossing them into the dreaded hole. When that doesn’t satisfy him, Ranboo adds his tools, biting his tongue. He nods in approval, throwing down a couple of sticks of TNT. A flint ‘n’ steel is struck, the flame dancing across Dream’s mask.

The teen stumbles back and away from the pit as Dream drops the flint ‘n’ steel into the hole, listening to the explosion and feeling the ground shake beneath his feet.

“See, Ranboo…” Boots stop beside Ranboo’s crumpled form. Dream’s armor and clothes shift as he crouches. “I’m doing this because I’m your friend. When did being yourself ever help you?” There’s a soft croon to his voice like a mother lecturing a child. “Friends help each other, Ranboo. Don’t you want help?”

Ranboo squeezes his eyes shut desperately trying to control his breathing. He screams out when his ears are yanked forcing his head up. Dream’s tone has gone cold, unforgiving. “You should speak when spoken to.”

Something unfamiliar takes over Ranboo at that moment.

Ranboo’s eyes dilate leaving nearly no pupil left. His lips curl bearing his fangs. He tears Dream’s hand from his ears, a growl building from his chest. “You don’t tell me what to do.”

And Ranboo doesn’t brace himself in time for the fist that connects with his face. His ears are ringing, and something warm trickles out of his nose.

“I do get to tell you what to do because if memory serves me right the last time you acted of your own accord you burned a house to the ground.”

But that hadn't happened- they had just robbed George they hadn't- they never- “I didn’t do that!”

“Then why are you here?” He hesitates, and that’s enough time for Dream to continue. He grabs Ranboo by the front of his shirt lifting his lanky body off the ground. “My job as admin is to keep my people safe, and your existence here is a hindrance to that. It’s your fault, Ranboo.”

“I…” What is there to say? There is nothing. He can’t say anything because he can’t remember. A hand passes through his hair, smoothing it down, and the brief contact is so good that he can’t help but lean into it.

“Much better. I’m just doing what’s best for you, Ranboo.” Slowly, the grip on his shirt loosens, Ranboo falling to his knees. “I’ll be back again in a few days.”

He’s left by the smoking hole on his knees and his mind whirling.

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Since Ranboo’s been exiled he’s had no contact with anyone other than Dream, and he’s not coping well. He thought he’d be alright- that, logically, since he lived alone on Hypixel this wouldn’t so bad. But at least in Hypixel he was always surrounded by people. Occasionally having pleasant encounters with the people he was teamed with. Here there is nothing for miles and miles. Just an ocean, a forest, and himself. Ranboo hoped working himself to the bone would help fend off the loneliness, but it eventually caught up. The panic attacks would catch him when his guard was down. More often than not Ranboo would wake up in the mud or on the beach, having fainted from his inability to breathe, fresh burns streaking down his cheeks. Sometimes he'll be ankle-deep in water, stumbling back onto the sand sobbing from the pain.

But nothing is worse than the near-constant itch under his skin.

At the beginning of exile it started off as a tingle he could ignore, sometimes sated by the brief touches from Dream, but now, after so long, every cell is on fire, screaming out for the touch of someone, anyone, and Ranboo hates it. His body is growing dependant on Dream, and there is only so long until his mind would succumb as well. Not a minute goes by where he isn’t hyper-aware of every slightest touch to his skin, desperately wishing it was that of another living being.

Ranboo assumes he’s been on this island for a few days- maybe weeks- now. It’s hard to tell. Somedays he’ll wake up and forget where he is entirely. He spends his days both cursing Dream to Prime and wishing for the masked man to return.

As time passes, Ranboo begins to lean more and more towards the latter.

“Hello, Ranboo, did you miss me?” The question is entirely rhetorical, the man already knowing the answer. The iron armor clang with his clumsy movements as Ranboo strips it off, tossing them into the hole between them both, fingers slipping on the poorly crafted straps. Armor and tools are replaceable. At least Dream is kind enough not to destroy his tent. A few sticks of TNT are tossed in the hole before he can throw in his tools. He flinches when the explosions ring out. “Good job! I didn’t even have to ask this time! Oh, and don’t worry about your tools, you can keep them this time. You’ve been getting better, so I think it’s only fair.”

“No.” Ranboo grits out. He grips his sword hilt protectively. “I didn’t miss you.”

“Not so sure about that,” and he sounds so amused at the prospect. As if he knows something Ranboo doesn’t. Like an adult speaking to a child. Dream brushes Ranboo’s hair from his eyes, ever so gently, and he stiffens upon reflex. Touch means pain. A fist to the cheek, a kick to the chest, a yank on his ears. Ranboo has been better at blocking out the pain, taking the beatings in stride, and biting down on his tongue to swallow his screams because Dream said it was weak.

This time no pain comes. 

The hand slips through his two-toned curls, touching his skin, and the starved flames dance again under his skin setting his nerves alight.

A few strange noises similar to a cat purring escape him and Ranboo finds himself relaxing from Dream’s touch. The hand trails down to his neck gently flexing, fingers tapping rhythmically. “See? This isn’t so bad. I knew exile would be good for you.”

The hand retreats. Ranboo holds back a whine. “How about we go mining today? Diamonds are always better than iron tools, and I’m here to help after all. That’s what friends are for. I’ll even let you borrow my pickaxe.”

The last thing Ranboo wants to do is spend any more time than necessary with Dream, but he can’t be alone. Any longer and he just may go insane.

“...okay.”

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Ranboo does the one thing a person in exile should never do; he builds an emotional attachment.

He discovers the rabbit in his carrot patch, her caramel hues reflecting the daylight. It took some coaxing for the rabbit to trust Ranboo enough to eat from his palm. Her fur is soft to his calloused fingers, big black eyes watching him, a pink nose twitching in the breeze. She doesn’t squirm as Ranboo carefully scoops her into his arms. The rabbit lays her head on his shoulder looking around the world in awe at the new elevation.

Ranboo names her Ribbit.

When Dream visits Ranboo will hide her in a hole beneath his bed tying a lead to the post. “It’s not like I don’t trust him,” he whispers, her sweet eyes making him feel guilty. “I just...I’ll tell him one day. I will, I swear. For now just be quiet, okay? I’ll be back tonight with some treats for you.” He scratches the junction between her ears. A giggle escapes him when Ribbit presses her paws against the dirt walls and bumps their noses together.

He enjoys the small warmth her body provides at night as she sleeps nestled against the crook of his neck. Most mornings he’ll wake up to Ribbit sitting by his head staring down at him, paws resting on his cheek. Her nose will twitch in annoyance as he gently squeezes her paw between his thumb and forefinger.

But, of course, all good things must come to an end.

“Ranboo,” a shadow stretches across Ranboo from behind. He collects a few more pieces of wood for the campfire, hugging them to his chest. There were plenty of trees out here and Ranboo made sure to replant the saplings so the forest wouldn’t die out. “You wouldn’t be keeping anything from me, would you? Friends don’t keep secrets from each other.”

He thinks of Ribbit back in his tent staring up at him with her big innocent eyes as he promises to return soon.

“Nope. Nothing in particular, no.” Dream hums, sprinting and jumping from rock to rock as he keeps up with Ranboo’s long-legged pace. “Uh-”

“I actually have something for you, Ranboo.”

They stop at Ranboo’s campsite. He tries not to seem suspicious as he glances to his tent, hoping Ribbit wouldn’t make noise upon hearing his voice. Dream waves a hand to pull up his Player interface searching through his inventory. “As a sign of our friendship.”

He holds his hand out. Suddenly, a plate materializes into existence with a cooked rabbit resting on top.

A wave of nausea rushes over Ranboo. 

No...no, it can’t be… He takes a shaky step back. It’s...it’s a coincidence…

Filled with adrenaline, Ranboo rushes past Dream into his tent. He drops to his knees shoving his bed aside. A torn lead hangs off the bedpost. Past all the blood and bones he can see a caramel pelt tucked away in the hole. Blank, lifeless black eyes meet his. He slaps a hand over his mouth to muffle his screams. 

The blood is still warm.

With a quick turn of his head, the nausea comes back tenfold and he turns to vomit soundlessly over a patch of dirt, his breathing going hoarse. This is his fault. It’s all his fault Ribbit is dead-

A bloody hand falls on his shoulder. Ribbit’s blood.

With an Enderman-like shriek, Ranboo twists around and slashes across Dream’s arm with his claws. Ranboo fights with all he has, fangs bared and pupils dilated to slits, tail lashing across the grass threatening a fight.

Something blunt slams against his head taking Ranboo off guard. Dream uses this to his advantage to yank Ranboo’s back by his matted hair. He kicks and thrashes. No matter how hard he fights, though, Dream’s unforgiving grip never loosens. Something metallic and tight is secured around his face, digging hard into his nose and chin. Once a leather strap is tightly fixed around his head, he physically throws Ranboo to the ground.

He’s been muzzled.

“This is for your own good, Ranboo,” Dream says. His voice sounds from both near and far away. “Look at yourself, you’re acting like a monster! And after everything I’ve done to help you. You brought this upon yourself.”

Something wet tricks down his nose. He can’t even wipe his face like this.

Dream grabs Ranboo’s hands, claws dripping with blood, humming disgustedly. There is blood splashed across his mask. He tilts his head. His fingers curl painfully around Ranboo’s wrist. “But don’t worry, Ranboo, I‘m here to help you.”

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Ranboo drifts.

He's been drifting for a while now, occasionally rising back to consciousness, to reality, but there's all too much pain that he decides he’s happier in darkness. Memories dance just out of arm’s reach.

A courthouse.

An allium.

Someone’s laugh.

Dream’s mask.

Fingers fluttering over aged pages.

A wet nose pressed against his own.

When he finally wakes, it’s for good.

Blearily, Ranboo tries to sit up, gasping as the motion sends ripples of pain through his body. He's curled on his side in a fetal position, hands lying beside him. They're heavily bandaged. He can barely move them. Even the slightest twitch has his body howling in pain. Near the tips of his fingers, the bandages are a dark red turning brown. The tent he’s taking shelter in does little to shield him from the storm outside. Rain seeps in through the fabric dotting the muddy ground.

He knows things like his name and what he is- he knows what to call every part of his body, knows what the items around him are, knows how to move- but he doesn't know anything personal. His friends, his interests, his past- absolutely nothing. It's like they've been locked away inside his mind and the key has been thrown away.

The panic grips his chest full force. His instincts are screaming at him; run, escape, hide, danger. Through sheer stubbornness alone, he manages to force his body to sit up, nearly blacking out twice in the process. He throws his long legs over the side of the bed gasping greedily for air. The skin around his jaw feels raw, aching. Ranboo attempts to stand only to crash to the ground.

Suddenly the tent flap is pushed up and his head whips towards the entrance, staring wide-eyed as a masked man steps in carrying a fresh roll of bandages. There is something familiar about him. The man tutted setting the bandages aside. He grips Ranboo by the armpits lifting him back up onto the bed.

“I’m glad you finally woke up. It’s been a few days,” his tone is gentle, soothing, and Ranboo finds himself relaxing slightly. He sits on the bed beside him. “You look confused though. Do you know where you are?”

Ranboo shakes his head.

“Do you know who I am?”

He hesitates then shakes his head again. He knows this man is familiar but that’s about it. If Ranboo didn’t know any better he’d think the man seems pleased about this news, but how could he know anything? He barely remembers his name. “I’m Dream- I’m your best friend. You were exiled here and I’ve been helping you. You’ve always had memory problems, though, I just didn’t think it would get this bad.”

“Wh’…” Ranboo’s jaw aches terribly like it had been sealed shut for some time. Dream patiently waits for him to continue. “Wha’ happen’d to my h’nds..?”

“Oh, that,” something in Dream’s voice has Ranboo’s gut churning in fear. “Well...you asked me to remove your claws.”

“I...I did?”

Dream rolls his sleeve up revealing a set of deep jagged scars running across his freckled skin. “We had a misunderstanding, and you couldn’t control your instincts. It’s pretty common with hybrids. The pain must’ve been too much for your mind to handle though during the procedure. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

All doubt in Ranboo’s mind erases away when a hand comes to pet through his hair. There’s a ruffling of clothes and, soon, a blanket is being wrapped around Ranboo’s shoulders. “I know you’re probably really confused, but don’t worry. I’ll always be here for you. That’s what friends are for.”

Chapter Text

After a week, Dream decides Ranboo doesn’t need the bandages any longer.

Every morning since the incident he would soak the bandages in potions of regeneration to fend off infections and help the healing process. Ranboo obediently sat on his bed succumbing to Dream’s careful ministrations. Ranboo doesn’t know what he would’ve done without Dream. It was impossible for him to make any potions himself, too weak to venture into the Nether, the recipes lost on his frazzled mind. On such a remote island he could’ve lost both his hands or worse.

His leg bounces impatiently as he watches the strips of cloth slip from his hands.

“Your hands will never be the same,” Dream warns. “But it’s a necessary process. There is always pain in recovery.” Ranboo’s breath hitches when the last of the bandages fall away. His fingers are numb. A part of him doubts the numbness will ever go away. There is the slightest coloration where his claws once were leaving behind nubs. Parts of the skin has yet to heal fully showing how-

Ranboo squeezes his eyes shut. It’s no good thinking about it. He’ll only end up hurting himself.

Something soft is pressed into his palms. “Here. Put these on.” 

Ranboo picks up the gloves delicately between finger and thumb. They’re about the same size as his hands, knitted in a warm, rich brown that is softer than he’d expected. He slips the mitten over his bare hands, wiggling his thumb into place and folding the fabric down over his fingers. “Oh, good, I’m glad they fit. I wasn’t sure I got the measurements correct.”

“Where did you get these?” Ranboo flexes his hands. The material feels familiar somehow- he just couldn’t quite place it.

“Oh, I made them,” he leans back in his chair sweeping an ankle over his knee. “Rabbit hides make for great gloves. It’ll be getting colder soon and you need to stay warm.”

“Rabbit…” This can’t be happening. “Hide…”

Before Ranboo can rip the gloves off, Dream snatches his wrist in a vice grip, forcing Ranboo to maintain eye contact. “Are you going to throw these away?”

“You…” His breath is coming in too quick, the forced eye contact sending electricity through his bloodstream. “Killed her.”

“You lied to me. Friends shouldn’t lie to each other, Ranboo. Lying is what got you here in the first place, isn’t it? And, really, it’s not me who killed it. It’s you. So are you really going to throw these away? You already wasted the dinner I so graciously made you. Do my gifts mean nothing to you? You should be thanking me right- a small mercy to be able to carry on its memory.”

Ranboo’s hand in Dream’s grip is trembling. He flinches when another hand lifts up to his face, scarred knuckles brushing under his eyes wiping away his tears. Dream sighs. “I’m not trying to hurt you, Ranboo. But the more you rebel the more things like this will happen. I can’t help you if you’re stubborn. Do you understand?”

He sways slightly in place. His mind is spinning, nausea and fear keeping his mouth shut. Dream’s grip hasn’t lessened. His muscles are beginning to ache. Ranboo hangs his head. His gaze fell to his lap, tears being caught on his lashes.

“...I understand.”

──────────

Ranboo slowly loses his will and needs to make decisions for himself the longer he finds himself in exile with Dream as his only friend. Slowly, he allows Dream to become the central part of his thoughts, dictating his actions and reactions. It’s easier this way. The bruises fade over time, only the occasional broken bone or fracture when he steps out of line, and sometimes he’ll be granted praise here and there. Those are the best. He has spent so long struggling to survive it’s nice to be led around like a puppy.

Or, at least, that’s what he tells himself at night.

He learns through trial and error what is right and what is wrong.

Dream doesn’t like it when Ranboo looks down on him.

(“From now on if you’re following me, keep your back hunched. When I sit down, you sit on the ground,” his foot pulls back and kicks, catching Ranboo right in the gut. He whimpers in pain, having taught himself not to cry out, hands coming up to cover his face as he curled into a ball. “Being yourself is what got you sent out here in the first place. You’ve hurt people. You’ve hurt me. And you don’t want to hurt anyone, right?”)

Ranboo isn’t allowed to fight without permission.

(“The last thing you want is to lose control, right?” Ranboo struggles to hold his shield up as the zombie strains against him, claws slicing into his skin, acid dripping from its unhinged jaw. Dream is sat in the tree watching passively. “You can’t just attack everything you see. No progress will be made if you can’t be tamed. Now, kill it.” In one swift movement, the zombie’s head is sliced off its shoulders and sent rolling across the grass. “Good boy.”)

When told to stay, he stays. No matter the weather or time of day. No matter how long it takes until the order is lifted- whether his stomach growls or his body begs for sleep.

(“You’ve gotten better at listening. That’s good,” Ranboo hisses as Dream pours a potion over his water burns. He watches in morbid curiosity as the skin rapidly begins healing over the irritated wounds. “Discipline is important. I know you don’t understand, but it’s okay. Just listen to me, and do what I say.”)

He’s not allowed to speak unless spoken to.

(Dream sighs as he loosens the muzzle around Ranboo’s jaw. His muscles ache and Ranboo massages the raw skin best he can. “A nod will suffice enough. Do you understand?” He exaggerates his nod, anything to avoid the muzzle again, whimpering as a hand passes through his hair.)

His meals are half of what Dream’s would be, and as a treat, he’ll be given an extra portion.

(“I wonder how long an enderman can go without food,” Dream muses watching Ranboo burrow further into the blankets. It has been three days. Three days since he last ate. His attempt at eating yesterday resulted in Dream burning down his farm, Ranboo forced to watch on his knees as his efforts were laid to waste. “We’re friends, right?” Ranboo doesn’t hesitate to nod, purring as fingers scratch behind his ears. “Then you’ll help me out with my little experiment, right?”)

Ranboo is not his own.

(“You do not owe anything,” the shovel blade digs into the dirt. Dream holds a hand out expectantly. “Your suit jacket as well.” Instinctively, Ranboo grips his sleeves. His jacket was all he had left. The sleeves are ripped and torn, dirt smudged into the once pristine fabric. Dream tilts his head examining Ranboo. “...alright, you can keep it for now. But from now on everything will be destroyed. This will help you in the long run. If you want something, you must come to me first. And nothing is to be kept secret. You know the consequences.”)

As time passes the loneliness persists.

Not even the local enderman will communicate with him anymore. Dream has made certain of it.

(“These things are nothing more than a means to an end for Players like us,” the sword drags across the corpse and Dream plunges his hand inside. Ranboo has to turn away as an ender pearl is ripped out. “It’s the circle of life. We are superior to mobs, and they were put here for a reason. To be killed by us. See, Ranboo, that’s why I’m doing all this for you.” From his angle, Ranboo can still see dull purple eyes staring at him. He remembers the enderman’s pained cries for help as Dream cut it down. The ender pearl is pressed into his hand. It’s covered in blood.)

──────────

There are days where Ranboo will imagine destroying his bed and melting away in the rain, fade away into nothing, just to stop the ever-present pain. He’s gotten close once. It had been so tempting.

All that’s left of him by the morning is a shell too numb to feel pain anymore.

Dream says it’s a good thing. That their time together has been helping him.

Ranboo wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

Then, he realizes, he’s forgotten how it is to feel anything. He can no longer feel the sun’s warmth on his skin or the comfort a bed brought after one of Dream’s shouting sessions. He watches the rain splatter against his glove-clad palm, distantly remembering a blonde boy holding his hand and smiling at him, calling him a friend.

He wonders if it was a memory or just another hallucination.

──────────

The Nether portal awakes.

Ranboo was collecting firewood when he saw the particles rise in the distance. That’s odd. Dream usually comes later in the day, and he said he has business to attend back on the main island. The teen pushes his way through the low-hanging branches and bushes to the clearing where the portal has been built. He’s never been given permission to enter the Nether- Dream deeming it too dangerous for him- there’s no harm in looking, right?

He pauses at the forest edge, stepping back into the foliage and moving to hide beside a tree tall enough for him. After a bit of waiting, Ranboo leans back, ready to return to his camp when the portal whoops, catching sight of someone emerging through the purple veil. His breath catches in his throat.

“Tommy…” the name slips unwilling from his lips. A flood of hope rises in Ranboo’s chest.

Tommy doesn’t care about you, a voice in the back of his mind all too similar to Dream’s whispers, Tommy let you be exiled.

Ranboo shakes his head violently. That’s not true. But isn’t it?

Ranboo moves to take a step back. His foot falls on a stick snapping it in half.

As Ranboo’s eyes shakily lifted up to the portal, the teen is staring back, mouth agape in shock and eyes wide. A moment of silence passes before Ranboo’s frantically beating heart kicks his body into gear. He turns to run but is stopped by a shout.

“Ranboo!” His ears pick up on the sound of grass crunching and soft cursing. He should run. Tommy doesn’t know where his camp is, and Ranboo can be safe there. But for whatever reason, he stays rooted in place. “God, big man, I’ve fucking missed you-” Tommy cuts off. Ranboo instinctively curls in on himself. “...dude, what’s happened to you?” His voice is considerably softer now. Ranboo is thankful his back is turned. He stiffens when a hand rests between his shoulder blades. “Ranboo..?”

“...why-” don’t speak unless spoken to. Ranboo promptly swallows his words. He can hear Tommy frowning, the gears in his mind turning as he processes the new information. And, Prime, the hand on his back has begun rubbing small comforting circles, the simple touch sending electricity through his bloodstream.

“I’m- shit, I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. L’manburg has been a fucking mess and Tubbo- never mind, look I just-” he’s stumbling over his words. Ranboo so desperately wants to turn around, but he doesn’t think he can handle seeing Tommy. Can’t handle the possibility that this is all just his imagination. Another one of his hallucinations. “I brought you something. I- I know I’m probably the last person you wanna see but…for the love of Prime, say something !”

Permission. He’s been given permission. Ranboo’s lips move quicker than his brain can formulate a single response, the weeks of betrayal and pain in his heart being summarized in just four simple words, “why are you here?”

Slowly, the hand slips from his back.

Ranboo pinches his eyes shut. He grips his arms tighter.

“That…” Tommy sighs. “I just- everything was so- you don’t understand-”

Don’t “Go.”

There’s a long time where neither speaks nor moves. Not a single sound is made. Eventually, though, the grass crunches and Ranboo hears Tommy’s footsteps grow quieter in the distance. The portal whirls as it’s activated.

Ranboo’s knees give way and he hits the ground.

Alone. He’s alone. And it’s his fault. The last of his restraint crumbles away. His screams can be heard from miles as he crumbles. His forehead hits the forest floor, tears streaming unchecked down his cheeks, particles flickering around his form. He wants nothing more than to chase after Tommy and beg him to stay, to say he didn’t mean it, that he just wants his friend back. But is there even a point?

Who wants to be friends with a monster?

Resting behind him is a leather-bound book, poorly crafted but clearly made with care and thought, a simple message engraved in the corner.

From, Your Tommy.

Chapter Text

Ranboo doesn’t tell Dream about Tommy, nor the book.

Deep down, he knows he should. He agonizes about it for the next few days. He remembers having a journal before exile- one he’d write his memories and allegiances in. He had it even before coming to this server, having to add new pages when he ran out of the initial. But that journal was destroyed on his first day of exile along with his only hold on his memories.

This is a fresh start. Maybe that’s what compels him to flip over the leather cover, white pages gentle to his calloused fingertips. A laugh, the first one in a century, bubbles freely from his chest. It feels wrong to laugh. Ranboo quickly stifles the sound after a few seconds. The charcoal pencil in his fingers he handcrafted feels wrong. His fingers shake around the skinny tool.

A sharp pain shoots from his fingers to the rest of his hand. Ranboo hisses dropping the pencil. He stares at his now violently shaking hand. With a shaky exhale, he picks the pencil back up forcing more conviction into his actions. His handwriting has never been the neatest, but now it’s completely illegible. Ranboo shakily writes his name in the top corner so he’ll never forget. Next comes his friends. But he doesn’t have any friends- other than Dream. He goes with the next best thing.

Allegiances

The pencil hovers over the paper. The first person that comes to mind is Dream. They’re friends after all, right? So why is he hesitating?

- Dream?

He sets the pencil aside. Now Dream really can’t know about the book. Ranboo has dug his grave and now he has to sit in it. The only other person Ranboo can clearly remember is Tommy. There are other faces- voices that come with- but they were blurred out and the names come to him as static. It’s all too much. He scrubs his hands over his face.

When Ranboo drops his hands he freezes.

- Wife Haver

He’s hallucinating again. That’s the only explanation.

ayup boss man, srry I gto u swnt to exsile

L

Tommy?

There is no way this is possible. The only form of long-distance communication that Ranboo knows of are communicators, but his had been confiscated upon arrest.

ya 

pretty cool huh? phil helped me make it

Distantly, he remembers a blonde man in green with a warm smile and a hand on his shoulder, welcoming him over anytime. How could he forget Phil- his neighbor, one of his few positive interactions, someone who didn’t look upon him in fear.

its like enchanted or sum shit idk but i got a matching one and theyre linked up

Ranboo closes the book, shuts his eyes, and runs his fingers along the spine. Deep within the book enchantments weave themselves together. He isn’t hallucinating. This is without a doubt real.

didnt even know if itd work when i brought it over

i thought itd be easier than traveling through fucking hell all the time

hey u still there?

u better not be ignoring me

ranbooooo answer me u bastard

Thank you

Both palms come to cover his mouth as Ranboo waits for Tommy’s response.

He can’t stop smiling.

──────────

Dream’s behavior has been different lately.

There are times Ranboo will remember Dream threatening him only to be told he never said those things to him. Ranboo knew better than to question him, so he’d just duck his head and stayed quiet. He eventually stopped bringing it up. The beating sessions grew frequent, most nights ending with Ranboo crawling into bed nursing fresh bruises and fractures. Dream always treated him nicer the day after- bringing Ranboo cooked food or offering to gather supplies while he recovered.

The panic room is the latest change. And Ranboo’s least favorite.

“Please-” he hoarsely calls out. His ears strain as they hear the padlock on the trapdoor be locked. The panic room was the last case scenario for Ranboo in case he needed a quick place to hide where no one could find him. However, Dream insisted that Ranboo grow used to staying there.

“What happens when I’m not here and you’re stuck?” Dream’s voice echoes from outside the obsidian chamber. Ranboo huddles best he can in the corner. “I know you don’t like it, but you have to learn. I’ll be back in two days.”

There is a jukebox as well, but the only discs Ranboo has are Mellohi and one Dream gave him called Fallen Down. 

Once, Ranboo heard Mellohi playing on the surface, and when he reached the panic room the jukebox was empty. Ranboo realized he was locked inside too late. Dream found him half-starved to death in a pile of his vomit after a week.

Sometimes when he’s down there he’ll hear Dream’s voice telling him all the horrible things he’s done. Monster, criminal, traitor.

Ranboo had gotten used to it after a while. Of course, it took multiple beatings, screaming his throat sore, and beating his fists on the trapdoor until he was bleeding and covered in splinters. Now, most times he’d just sleep or talk to the shadows. Sometimes they spoke back.

Tommy says it’s called claustrophobia- that he has it as well and that he should avoid small spaces. Ranboo didn’t tell him it was Dream’s idea. He did, though, say Dream visits a lot. It felt wrong lying, and he didn’t want Tommy to think he was alone. Because he isn’t alone. He has Dream.

id, howd i do with exile and dream

hes so fucking annoying id prolly go crazy or run off to techies by now

Techie?

oh hey yoy should do that! ghostbur said he lives relatively near u

just up north i think

anyway so the other day tubs and i found this cow

Tommy never brought it up again. Neither did Ranboo. But the exchange never left his mind.

“Is-” Dream spins on his heel. Ranboo swallows his tongue, realizing he just broke a rule. He tenses preparing for punishment. Dream tilts his head. He’s allowed to speak. “Is there anyone here...other than me?”

“No,” Dream hums as if thinking it over. “No, no one on the server lives this far out. I mean, this is thousands of miles away from spawn. Who’d wanna live all the way out here? Now come on.”

That same day Dream destroys the Nether portal.

──────────

r u doin alright big man?

when i visited u looked like shit

Im fine

u can tell me u know

I know

i can help i can 

idk but its my fault u got sent there

No only I burned the house down

what the fuck are you talking about?? we both did

No

Only I did

He said so

who said so?

ranboo? 

ranboo answr me

ranBOOOOO

──────────

ranboo r u gonna keep ignoring me

:)

──────────

Ranboo wakes up to the smell of smoke.

He’s met with a slap to the face, crumpling to the ground in shock, a hand hovering over his stinging cheek. Dream runs a hand through his hair knocking his hood back. It’s the first time Ranboo has seen him without it, dirty blonde strands illuminated by the fire raging on behind him. A giant campfire has been built and-

“My tent!” Ranboo shouts. He rushes to his feet only to be stopped by Dream grabbing his tail.

Even with the mask on, Ranboo feels Dream’s disappointment. It hangs around him in the air thicker than blood. Ranboo wilts under his intense gaze. “What did I do wrong, Ranboo? I kept you when everyone else threw you away, taught you how to survive, fed you in your worst hours, dressed you- I’m the only one who isn’t afraid of you! You aren’t even a monster! A creature is a more appropriate term, and despite that, I still visited you when everyone else left you to rot! So what did I do wrong?” 

When Ranboo doesn’t respond he’s met with another slap. He bites back a cry. “What did I do wrong?!”

“I don’t-” Ranboo manages, inhaling too quickly to finish.

“Don’t lie to me!” Something is pulled from Dream’s hoodie and held in the air. The journal. “What is this, Ranboo?”

“That-”

“After everything I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me? He doesn’t care about you, he just wants to be rid of the guilt! How long do you think he’d keep up the charade? Why would he want to be friends with you?” Dream stalks forward. Ranboo stays still as he’s circled, the journal being waved around carelessly. 

“Lies, lies, lies. They’re all lies! But you wouldn’t understand because you don’t know the true Tommy.” A hand rests on his shoulder from behind. “But that’s why you have me, Ranboo. I’m here to protect you. I keep you safe.”

“That’s…” He clutches his arms. “I’m sorry-”

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it anymore, Ranboo. I’ve been too lenient with you. I thought you would’ve learned your lesson with that rabbit-” he tenses. “But it seems not.”

Riiiiiiiiiip

Ranboo turns on his heel just in time to witness Dream tear the journal in half.

A few pages drift to the grass only to be crunched under Dream’s boot. Ranboo’s hand twitches at his side. He watches, in slow motion, as Dream rips a handful of pages and toss them into the campfire. The flames roar, rising toward the stars, the embers reflecting across his eyes.

His knees hit the ground. “Please- please, I’m so sorry- Dream, please, I’m sorry. I-I’ll listen I’ll be good please- please stop just stop- stop please-”

Dream ruthlessly continues tearing out more pages and feeding them to the fire ignoring Ranboo’s pleas until all that’s left is the cover. It’s flung to the ground by Ranboo.

A hand is expectantly held out.

“Suit jacket next.” Ranboo can’t look away from the empty book. Even when a hand is grabbing him by the shirt front and physically lifting him off the ground. “Ranboo- take your jacket off.”

“...it’s mine…” he whispers weakly.

“No, it’s mine. I let you keep it. And now I’m taking it away. Actions have consequences, Ranboo. Now, give me the jacket, or-” from Dream’s pocket, a stick of dynamite is produced.

It’s the courtroom all over again.

Eyes are watching him from the shadows. Fingers being pointed and mocking laughter reaching his ears.

But, this time, Ranboo isn’t afraid of the consequences. He has experienced death before. Maybe he’d fare better in the afterlife. It’s not like he has any friends that will miss him.

Ranboo turns his head to face Dream. With a deep breath, he spits on his mask. “Bite me.”

He chokes on air as a punch lands him square in the face. The hand around his shirt releases him and Ranboo splays his hands on the grass to catch himself. He scrubs a hand over his nose. When he pulls it back, he sees blood. Ranboo coughs, head spinning with adrenaline as he tries to stand. A kick to the chest sends him sprawling.

“I hate to do this, Ranboo. I don’t enjoy hurting you, but you’ve brought it upon yourself,” Dream drawls. The dread begins to settle heavy in his gut. Ranboo chokes on his words, grasping for an apology, crying out as a sword plunges into his shoulder. The blade twists and he hears something crunch. “And now, because of you, my plans have been ruined again. How many times are you going to keep getting in my way? Why couldn’t you just listen?”

“Please-” Ranboo cuts off into a garbled scream. The sword lifts only to be plunged back down in the same spot.

“But, as your friend, I’m giving you one last chance. And if you survive, it’ll be like water under the bridge.”

Survive?

Through his tears, Ranboo watches Dream hold the dynamite by the fire. With just a single lick the fuse is lit, a harsh hissing filling the space. Dream hums as he lazily tosses it beside Ranboo. His eyes widened. He tries to roll away, but the sword is pinning him to the ground.

“Goodbye, Ranboo.”

An explosion rings out across the island.

──────────

“Are you sure this is the right place, Tommy?”

“I’m sure! Now shut up and follow me!” Tommy pushes his way through the Nether portal. Close on his trail is Tubbo, the teen sighing as he glances around. The sun is just now rising in the distance. “He hasn’t- he won’t respond and it just- he doesn’t do that! Something is wrong I just know it, man.”

“Are you sure he wasn’t just asleep? It was the middle of the night when you woke me up,” Tubbo yawns for emphasis. At Tommy’s sharp glare, he relents. “Look...I just don’t- wait, do you smell that?”

Tubbo tips his head back, sniffing the air. “Smell what?” His eyes snap open. He begins sprinting in a direction leaving Tommy behind. “What- Tubbo! Tubbo, what’s wrong?!”

Once they passed the initial line of dark oak trees, Tommy saw just what put Tubbo on alarm.

Smoke. Dark, thick clouds of smoke that drift into the sky.

They come to stop at the remains of a campsite.

“No- no, surely not…” Tubbo whispers behind his hand, eyes welling up with tears. “I- I didn’t- this isn’t- I never-”

“No- no, fuck this,” Tommy shoves past Tubbo. He skids into the crater beside a campfire that long since died out. He begins digging through the dirt and ash searching for something- anything- that would prove them wrong. “He wouldn’t- why would this happen?! Ranboo wasn’t- he was sad but he wasn’t-” his mouth snaps shut.

“Tommy? Tommy, what did you find?” The president comes to stand behind his best friend. He gasps as he catches the items in Tommy’s hand.

A torn, charred piece of a suit jacket soaked in dried blood, and the remains of a gifted journal.

Chapter Text

The last thing Ranboo remembers is fire.

A burning, all-consuming flame wrapped around his body devouring him to the bone leaving naught but ash. And in one fleeting moment, he felt happy. Ranboo has never been afraid of death- he played in her hands his entire life at Hypixel, death being the mechanics of the game modes. He remembers being a small boy and experiencing his first death. It had been a brutal awakening, the feeling of an arrow piercing through his throat still lingering. Over time he grew numb.

Upon joining the Dream SMP, Ranboo died three times. They were all to Dream. It’s almost poetic. And now, as he watches the dynamite fall from his hands in slow motion, he knows this will be his fourth.

And potentially his final.

Everyone, upon birth, is given one life, but there are those who are born differently than others. Over time these people were named Players; people who were gifted by the universe to have three lives rather than one. Such people soon sought out lives of adventure and legends. Worlds of hardcore and PVP were designed, and places like Hypixel found a work-around the live system after years of trial and error. Respawn stars. It uses the same core ideas as a totem of undying, but with fewer side effects and more risk. Ranboo remembers the horror stories of Players dying permanently in games never respawning in their beds.

Ranboo has never feared death.

Maybe that’s why he wakes up in the aftermath of an explosion surrounded by smoke and flames. He coughs once, twice, before getting to his knees. He’s alive. A fresh line of burn scars zigzag across his right arm and his side aches tremendously.

But he’s alive.

Shakily, a hand presses to his chest. He feels emptier somehow. An emptiness he never felt before in his previous deaths. Is this how it feels to truly lose a life? There is no concrete way to know until you die for the final time. He can’t help the surge of anger within. 

Why is he alive? He shouldn’t be alive. Ranboo was supposed to die on his own terms and escape this nightmare. So why is he still on this godforsaken island? If not for the smoke clogging his lungs he would’ve screamed. Instead, his mouth silently opens and he presses his forehead to the dirt.

Maybe he should wait here until Dream is back-

No. No, he can’t stay here any longer. Ranboo cast a withering glance to the pitiful remains of his camp. Could he even survive in the wilderness alone? There’s only one way of finding out. His feet slip on the dirt.

With just the tattered clothes on his back, Ranboo climbs out of the crater.

He heads north.

──────────

Cold.

It began snowing at some point, Ranboo waking up in the small enclave he took shelter in to find himself almost snowed inside. Thankfully he could walk in the snow without immediately burning, but the longer he walked the worse the stinging sensation in his paws became. The thin shirt he wore could barely count as a shirt. The collar is ripped down to the collar bone and his left hip is exposed. Not even his gloves survived in the explosion exposing his sensitive fingers to the chill. Worst of all, he only has a pair of shorts.

Ranboo physically couldn’t wear pants or shoes because of his hind legs, but he’s never encountered a problem until now. On Hypixel weather was always perfect all year round. In the real world, nature is a cruel mistress. The winds are unforgiving, pushing and shoving at Ranboo’s lanky form, the cold settling deep in his bones shaking him to the core, his limbs occasionally locking up causing him to trip into the snow.

But he never stops.

He doesn’t even know what he’s looking for, or how far he’s going. His only lead is Tommy’s cryptic message he sent a lifetime ago. Another person lives on this island. It’s that thought alone that encourages his feet to keep taking another step. And if he jumps at every shadow, crying out for Dream at every flash of green, his only witness is the snow and the sun.

His only meals are sweet berries and mushrooms. Sometimes, if lady luck is on his side and the evening winds are calm, Ranboo can turn it into a half-decent stew. He tried hunting, but the moment he saw the raw meat he collapsed in the snow dry heaving and coughing up stomach acid until he nearly fainted. No matter how hard he tries he can’t forget that night. The smell of her corpse in the hole and the sight of her cooked flesh being presented on a plate.

Something peaking past the dark trees has Ranboo’s heart leap into his throat.

Smoke. Smoke means fire which means warmth and, potentially, shelter.

In the darkened hues of the night, the light reflecting off the infinite blanket of snow, a silhouette forms from the shapen light. To his adjusting eyes, to his exhausted brain, comes a cottage built straight out of his dreams. A horse clad in diamond armor stands in a fenced-off area. It regards the newcomer with a head tilted in curiosity, Ranboo all but collapsing against the fence. He falls to his knees.

He made it.

A hoarse laugh gets stuck in his throat. He made it.

Whoever this cabin belongs to wasn’t home. They must have left recently, though, because the lights are all on.

Ranboo debates waiting until they got back but the idea of spending another night outside was less than ideal. The front door, predictably, is locked. Ranboo rests his forehead against the smooth wooden surface breathing shakily. That’s when he saw the windows- a pair of trapdoors built off iron hinges.

Ranboo lifts the trapdoor before slipping inside. His feet go first, paws tentatively bracing themselves on a table to balance his weight, cringing as a few glass bottles shatter on the floor. Shoot, he’ll have to replace those. It’s the least he can do for trespassing. Hopefully, they won’t mind. 

A fire crackles nearby in a quaint fireplace. The sudden warmth washes over him all at once. Tentatively, Ranboo touches his foot to the large rug stretched across the floor. Just as he hits the ground a low growl sends his nerves alight. Sat on the far side of the room is a-

“Is that a polar bear..?” Ranboo swallows dryly. Just who is this guy that they own a polar bear for a pet? The polar bear stands from its bed slowly, threateningly, making its way towards a frozen Ranboo.

If he’s fast enough he can escape back through the window and make a run for it- a pair of large paws slam against Ranboo’s chest pushing him to the ground. He feels the air be knocked from his lungs. The back of his head slams against the floorboards causing his vision to briefly blacken. Warm breath fans across his face. “Um...g-good uh…” a gold-encrusted nametag hangs from the collar. “Good Steve? I’m just gonna come out and be honest- I really don’t think I’ll taste good so-”

Ranboo flinches as Steve leans in closer.

A wet nose presses against his neck, sniffing him. Ranboo stays completely frozen during the entire inspection. After an eternity, Steve sits back leaving Ranboo completely unharmed. He inhales sharply. As Ranboo sits up on his elbows the polar bear doesn’t react, watching with wide brown eyes. “Uh...thanks for not eating me, I guess. Don’t tell your owner I’m here, okay?”

Ranboo all but sprints to the trapdoor in the far corner, climbing the ladder one rung at a time to the basement. There are even more chests down here along with working stations to repair armor and weapons. His stomach growls. He’ll just take some food. Just a little. He stumbles over, reaching out with shaking fingers and prying open one of the chests. Inside are neat stacks of enchanted books, each glowing with strong glyphs, the sheer power contained in such a small space nearly knocking Ranboo off his feet.

He slams the lid shut. In the next chest is an assortment of potions ranging from harming to healing, splash potions, and lingering potions sorted in a way Ranboo couldn’t decipher. Although the temptation to take a potion and heal his wounds is strong, Ranboo refuses to steal. Not until he can repay this person. He closes the lid. The next few chests follow in a similar notion; ender pearls, bows and arrows, ores, stacks of untreated logs, extra armor, and weapons.

Eventually, Ranboo settles on just taking things that won’t be missed. In exchange he leaves a grass block he pulled from outside, lightly dusting snow off the top, satisfied with its placement.

That’s when the idea hit him.

There is nothing wrong with living underneath someone’s house, right? It’s not technically trespassing, and if Ranboo stays quiet enough he won’t be found out. It’ll just be a temporary solution.

He finds an unused iron pickaxe and gets to work.

──────────

Ranboo wakes to the sound of heavy footsteps.

He doesn’t know when he fell asleep- he just remembers waking up in a room lit up by a single torch, a tattered blanket wrapped around his shaking form. He wakes to an aching chest, a parched throat, and a lurching stomach. The loaf of bread he ate the day before must have not settled well. Ranboo had found the black spots in it suspicious but he didn’t want to be picky.

Nausea claws at Ranboo’s throat, and he forces the bile back down. Through a pounding headache and foggy vision, he sits up. He inhales sharply. 

From above he hears a muffled voice.

Ranboo’s entire body locks up. He forces himself to stop breathing, eyes wide in horror as he realizes whoever lives here had returned.

“...left the window open but it’s not like Steve would let just anyone in and Phil has a key,” a deep, monotone voice reaches Ranboo’s ears. The footsteps come to a stop. “Guys- guys, stop, one at a time.”

Are there multiple people who live here? He strains to hear other voices.

“Heh? Why is there a grass block here?” Ranboo waits with bated breath. There’s a long moment of silence. “...maybe an enderman got in. Dunno why they’d use the window. Alright, you guys, mystery solved.” 

The footsteps pick up again eventually growing distant.

Ranboo slumps against the wall sighing in relief. He’s safe. He’s safe- he’s okay. He repeats the words like a mantra as he forces his frazzled nerves to calm down.

──────────

It doesn’t take long for Ranboo to discover the identity of the man upstairs.

The infamous Technoblade who took the Hypixel leaderboards by a storm. 

The very man who inspired Ranboo to participate in the games. 

The ruthless, bloodthirsty Blood God who lives life as his own one-man army.

Suddenly, the things Ranboo has seen made sense. If anyone were to tame a wild polar bear, it would be him. It only left one question.

What will happen if he’s discovered?

──────────

Ranboo avoids leaving his hole as much as possible.

His head pounds, his arms throbs with unproperly treated burns, his throat aches, his forehead burns with feverish heat, yet Ranboo stays hidden. The fear of what may happen upon being discovered outweighs the pain.

Ranboo figures he has been here for maybe a week. It’s hard to tell time down in the hole. He’s been sleeping fitfully as of late. His feverish state grows worse by the day.

What would Dream say if he saw him now?

His ears perk up at light knocking on the stone above him. He glances around, vision spinning from the fever, pressing his cheek further against the cold stone. There is a voice but he can barely decipher what is being said. Eventually, the heavy footsteps fade away. Ranboo slowly gets to his feet. He doesn’t know why, but he stumbles to the ladder. With shaking hands he climbs to the surface.

It takes all his strength to lift his torso out of the hole. His gaze eventually falls on a wooden bowl. Steam rises off its surface, the smell lost on his sick clogged senses. Ranboo gently picks the bowl up in his hands. Soup. It’s more broth than soup, but he can see a few chunks of chopped potatoes and carrots. Is this for him?

No, he’s being delirious. But if this has been left here then it means Technoblade doesn’t want it, right?

Following that train of logic, Ranboo descends back into his hole. He curls up in the closest corner balancing the bowl on his lap. He tries to lift a spoonful, but his fingers shake too violently the spoon slips from his grip.

(“Creatures don’t use utensils. Those are for people.”)

Ranboo pinches his eyes shut. He brings the bowl to his chapped lips.

The first drop of broth on his tongue brings tears to his eyes. When was the last time he had a warm meal? Logically he knows he shouldn’t eat too fast, but Ranboo can’t help gulping the soup down. He doesn’t care how messy it gets. He scoops the chopped potatoes and carrots using his hands, close to sobbing at this point.

He has never felt so happy over soup.

Chapter Text

Technoblade was a name that was always accompanied by tales of war and blood. Stories told around campfires of an undefeated legendary warrior, told by humans and hybrids alike, his name usually spoken in the same breath as other legends. Respected by many, and seen as a monster by most.

Ranboo, as an orphaned teen trying to make a living on the streets, idolized the man. It was hearing of how Technoblade, a Player with no reputation, took the leaderboards by the neck and made a name for himself that encouraged him to move to Hypixel. He had been young, idealistic, having yet to witness the cruelties the world had to offer.

Then he heard the stories of the Manberg Massacre. Of the blood that stained his hands and how he laughed off the destruction and death because it was funny. Who unleashed withers destroying the lives of anyone unlucky to be in his warpath. A tyrant who caused so much trouble and agony to the nation. To many L’manburgians, Techno was nothing but a pig, in intellect and value, and it unnerved Ranboo deeply whenever the topic was brought up. Before his exile, they had even begun hanging up wanted posters of him. It was a completely different outlook than the starry-eyed Players on Hypixel.

He was a monster- a bloodthirsty killing machine with no remorse for living kind.

And now Ranboo finds himself living in the secret basement of that very man.

After a couple of days, Ranboo’s fear melted away leaving only curiosity in its wake.

He talks out loud to himself quite a lot, Ranboo discovers one day. Despite his constant fear, the seemingly dry voice was a nice change to the eerie silence in his hole. Sometimes he’d lean against the wall and listen to Techno argue with the voices in his head. He calls them Chat- short for Chatters. Any real fan of the great Technoblade knew of the voices; the choir that followed the Blood God’s waste singing praise and their hunger for more more more.

Technoblade didn’t express his feelings in ways most could understand, but there were times Ranboo caught a hint of emotion in his otherwise dry voice. The small moments when he’d greet Steve upon returning from a successful hunt, the fondness in his tone as he chastised Chat, the genuine interest as he talked about Greek mythologies while organizing his chests.

The soup had been a test, and when Ranboo emerged from his fever he connected the dots. His first instinct was to run. But as Ranboo began gathering his few belongings he realized he didn’t want to leave. Technoblade hadn’t come down and kicked him out personally, and he was safe down here from Dream. So when Ranboo pushed the stone aside to climb out he carefully set the bowl down in the same place he found it.

Next to it, he left a grass block with a flower.

That night a fresh bowl of soup had been laid out for him. Just like that, a silent agreement began; Techno would leave food out for Ranboo every night, and Ranboo would repay him with grass blocks.

──────────

Ranboo drifts in and out of sleep for a while, eventually jolted awake by the sound of frantic footsteps rushing across the stone. Some loose gravel and dirt slip through the cracks making him sneeze. He slowly pushes himself up with shaky arms, head spinning at the sudden movement.

Something is wrong.

A voice, loud, deep eventually reaches Ranboo. “We need to make strength potions fast- fast! What else do I need- what else do I need? I need speed potions-” Quick and to the point footsteps, sharply meeting floorboards, meet Ranboo’s ears. They soon come to a halt replaced by the soft groaning of chests. “How far out are they? Heh? What do you mean they’re almost here? I don’t have enough time to prepare!”

Ranboo flinches as a chest is slammed shut. Who are they? Why would anyone be coming here? No one knows they live out here except-

He stops breathing entirely. No, Dream wouldn’t know he’s here. If anything he would think Ranboo to be dead, right? He made sure not to leave any tracks behind. Ranboo bites down on his lower lip to try and stop himself from making any noise, teeth digging painfully into his skin, chewing it raw. 

He shoves his face into his knees, painfully pressing his hands over his ears. Blood drips off his chin. He bites down harder. He couldn't focus on anything, his heart stuttering with every noise. He’s trapped down here and it’s like the panic room all over again. Distantly he can hear Dream’s laughter, the walls closing in, the darkness consuming him as his hands scrape against obsidian walls.

“This is all your fault,” Dream’s voice whispers into his ear. Familiar hands come to rest on his shoulders, and through the corner of his blurry vision, he sees a mask. “Why couldn’t you just listen, Ranboo? You just made this worse on yourself.”

“No- no, that’s- that’s not true!” He whimpers as a hand brushes through his overgrown bangs.

“Nobody cares about you.” His chest tightens painfully at the realization. Ranboo presses his palms to his eyes to try and stop the tears. “Nobody ever cared about you as I did. Do you think this will be any different? You’re going to die down here.”

“N-No…” He can’t breathe.

“Wallowing in your filth and pity just like an animal should.”

“I-I’m not-” The world is spinning.

“You’re pathetic.” He’s losing his grip on reality. Around him, the scenery flickers between the hole and exile. One moment he’s cowering in a dark corner and the next he’s on the ground after failing another one of Dream’s instructions.

“You make me sick!”

I’m sorry.

“I have done so much for you, and for what?”

It’s not my fault.

“Even pets learn their place better than you do!”

Anyone, please, I never wanted this.

“You’d be better off dead!”

Suddenly, the hole Ranboo has found sanctuary in the past few weeks has become his tomb. The strength leaves his body and he falls bonelessly to the floor, squinting through the fog of his mind. He’s so cold. Against his will, his eyelids shut.

I don’t want to die.

──────────

“...seen him? I know he’s alive- I know he is!” They’re so loud. Ranboo whimpers, curling in on himself. He wasn’t sure why the voice brought a wave of grief that rose and crashed onto his exhausted heart. Somewhere in his chest, an emotion he long believed to be dead begins to flicker. “I know- Tubbo, let go of me- he’s fucking alive!”

“Tommy, I don’t know who you’re talking about.” Another voice, deeper, responds. He shivers. Ranboo tucks his face into his knees, wishing his stomach would stop growling in pain and hunger.

“You’re a fucking liar! Always have been, always will be, you fucking pig!” Please, he’s so tired. He just wants them to stop arguing.

“Tommy, stop it. If he’s dead then that’s just one less problem for us,” another voice. One that sends fear down his spine. It’s calm with an underlining layer of genuine rage. “Technoblade, we need you to come with us.”

“Big Q-” The sound of clashing metal. Shouting.

He squeezes his eyes shut.

──────────

Ranboo’s stomach growls. 

He drags himself across the ground and climbs the ladder using one arm, the other weighed down by exhaustion. No bowl of soup is waiting for him. The cabin is completely dark, eerily silent save for his labored breathing. His body urges him to go upstairs to the kitchen and take food, but his morals have Ranboo descending back into the hole.

He’ll just wait.

──────────

Time passes.

He drifts in and out of consciousness. The single lantern he took has long died out, but he couldn’t find the strength to get up and relight it.

Dream’s voice plagues him the entire time. Sometimes he’ll see the man sitting in the corner opposite of him. 

When he blinks he’s gone.

──────────

Ranboo wakes several more times sometimes only minutes apart, waiting for a coughing fit to pass or to vomit what few contents his stomach had or to just sit and watch the shadows, his fever having returned at full force.

He’s getting worse. But if he steals then he really will be what Dream says he is. He’ll be no better than an animal.

He covers his mouth as he hacks up blood, the red liquid smeared across his skin.

──────────

“He’s still up there, you know,” Dream croons to him. Ranboo can barely keep his eyes open. He knows this is just a hallucination. That none of this is true. But he can't stop it. “He just doesn’t think you deserve to be fed. Because you don’t deserve it.”

He’s so tired.

──────────

After what feels like a week Ranboo finally caves.

It takes all his strength to climb the ladder, dry heaving against the floorboards as his fingers scrape against the wood collecting splinters. New injuries. More pain. 

The light is too much. It stabs at his eyes, piercing at him from all angles chasing him into the corner. He can’t climb another floor- he can’t find the willpower. He should have just stayed in the hole he never should have come out-

“Uh…” Ranboo jolts violently, head snapping in the direction of the voice. Standing in front of the basement door is none other than Technoblade himself. In his delirious state, the only coherent word he can think of is large. He’s bulky and muscular in the sense one would be from years, and years, of combat, at least a good three inches taller than Ranboo, his hands frozen from unclasping his crimson cloak.

His hair, a striking pink that has clumps of dried blood, cut into an uneven bob by a blade. There are marks on his skin where the blade must have cut his neck. A struggle. Clearly done in a rush. His eyes are pitch black with a ring silver that tracks his every movement, numerous scars maiming his skin each with a story of a battle, a war. A thick scar, in particular, is made entirely out of gold and splits diagonally across his face, one of his tusks broken in half and brown with dried blood while his ears are long and coated in a thin layer of pink fur.

Eventually, Ranboo’s gaze stops on the bloodied pickaxe gripped in his hand. Technoblade shifts and Ranboo’s body moves on its own.

He flings himself on the ground, knees, and forehead pressed against the cold wood, nailless fingers curling against his palms to try and stop the shaking. “I-I’m sorry, so sorry you can take everything back I-I’m so sorry please don’t kill me.” He chokes out, voice trembling with every word, tail tucking between his legs. His ears twist and flatten against his skull.

Ranboo flinches when metal clatters against the wood. He lifts his head only high enough to stare at the netherite pickaxe now resting harmlessly on the ground. Steady footsteps near him. There’s a shifting of clothes and soon Ranboo is staring at Technoblade’s snow and dirt-covered boots. “Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you, alright?” There’s a pause, Ranboo’s ears picking up on Technoblade sighing. “You’re the one who’s been living under my house, yeah?”

Tentatively, he nods. “I-I’m sorry-”

“Don’t,” his mouth snaps shut. Technoblade groans, a hand dragging across his face. “That- you don’t need to apologize, alright? Would’ve liked if you’d, you know, came to me before moving in but what’s done is done.” Ranboo presses his forehead further against the ground. This is what Dream would want- would expect. It was the only form of apology he’d accept. “You don’t- come on, get off the ground.”

“I’m s-sorry,” Ranboo repeats like a broken record. Technoblade sighs again, heavy and drawn out. Neither of them speaks after that. Technoblade doesn’t move, and Ranboo struggles to control his breathing. “I…”

“You hungry?” The question takes Ranboo off guard. Hesitantly, he lifts his head. Technoblade is scratching his stubble in thought, Ranboo taking note of the heavy bags under his eyes. Upon closer inspection, he looks as if he had just climbed his way out of hell. When his eyes fall on Ranboo he’s quick to look away. “Come on, I’ll make you some soup.”

Technoblade grunts as he climbs to his feet. Ranboo flinches as a hand is held out to him. His arms are stained with dried blood. There’s a chunk near his elbow missing, the wound still fresh. The same hand that has killed people is now being held out to him. But the hand is warm, enticing, golden finger armor claws purposely curled away as to not hurt Ranboo.

Ranboo begins to reach for him before stopping himself. It must be a trick, right? But Technoblade never retracts his hand. He waits with patient eyes.

His hand shakes as he reaches out again, weakly gripping onto Technoblade’s fingers.

Chapter Text

“So,” Technoblade sits down at the table with a sigh and a flick of his cloak. Between them sits two bowls of mushroom stew, two cups of milk, and two loaves of fresh bread. Just the sight alone has Ranboo’s mouth watering. When Ranboo doesn’t move, standing stiffly by the table, Technoblade gestures to the other chair. “Come on, stop hoverin’. You’re making Chat anxious.”

This is a test. He wants to see how obedient Ranboo is. And maybe, if Ranboo does not eat or ask for food he has yet to earn, he’ll be rewarded. Dream has used this test against him many times. Sometimes, if Ranboo lasted, he’d be rewarded with a raw potato. 

He ignores the way his legs protest as he sits on the cold floor, eyes down, silent. He just has to wait. Ranboo can be patient. Animals aren’t demanding- they aren’t given a choice. He just has to wait- “what are you doing?”

Ranboo inhales sharply. “I’m- animals aren’t allowed at the table. Sir.” He adds for extra measure. Good manners go hand in hand with obedience. Ranboo flinches when he hears the stool scrape along the ground. He prepares for the punches and shouting. “I’m sorry, I-”

A bowl is set in front of him. Ranboo’s head lifts and he watches in shock as Technoblade sits down on the ground opposite him. “What- what are you doing?”

His ear flicks. “You said animals aren’t allowed at the table, yeah?”

“But- but you’re not-”

“Am I not?” Technoblade scoops a spoonful of stew into his mouth. He hums. “I’m a brute, your part enderman. We’re both hybrids. What makes us so different?” Ranboo doesn’t have an answer. He nudges the bowl toward Ranboo. “As long as you’re in my house, we’re equals, okay? But first, you need to eat something.”

“...So...I’m allowed to?”

“Yes. Three meals a day starting from now.” Hesitantly, as if this was still a test, Ranboo reaches for the spoon. His fingers curl around the utensil before he lets go with a wince. He’s too weak. 

But Technoblade doesn’t grab him by the ears or yell at him as Dream would. Rather, he sets his spoon aside and picks up his bowl with both hands. “Silverware is overrated anyway.”

Technoblade seems to visibly relax when he hears Ranboo finally begins eating. The soup was just as good as he remembers, warm and smooth on his aching throat. He struggles to pace himself. If he ate too fast his stomach wouldn’t be able to handle so much after having gone days without eating. Ranboo learned that the hard way. “What’s your name, kid?”

“...Ranboo,” he eventually mutters. “It’s Ranboo, sir…” 

Because no matter how much Dream tried- and oh how he tried- he could never forget his name. It’s the only thing too deeply engraved into his mind.

“Ranboo,” his name sounds different coming from Technoblade. Pronounced like Rawn-boo . Yet where, with most people, Ranboo would find irritation he only feels warm. “Care to explain why you’re in my basement?”

He hesitates then shakes his head. “Figured so. How about why you’re all the way out here?”

“I...was exiled.” Ranboo pinches his eyes shut. Rather than being bombarded with questions, Technoblade chuckles, low and humorless.

“I knew it...I knew it but I thought…” Ranboo lifts his gaze watching how Technoblade’s demeanor subtly shifts. His shoulders are slumped and he’s balancing his weight on one hand braced against the floor. He’s too slow to look away when Technoblade catches him staring. The two briefly maintain eye contact before Ranboo focuses on his ear. “Kid, when were you exiled?”

“Um…” He wrings his hands together. “I um- I joined not long after L’manburg was destroyed. So maybe like a few weeks?”

Technoblade’s lips curl down, and there is something in his voice he can’t recognize. Anger? Pity? But why- “Ranboo, that was three months ago.”

The empty bowl clatters onto the ground.

Three months.

He knew he had been gone for a while, but it couldn’t have been that long. Could it? He- if it was that long Dream would have told him. Tommy would have told him. 

But they hadn’t. 

And Ranboo had lived in that campsite, alone, for three months .

“Hey, hey,” a voice gently cuts through the fog. Ranboo flinches as hands come to rest over his. “Stay with me, Ranboo. Focus on breathing, alright?” One of his hands is guided up to Technoblade’s chest right over his heart. It beats faintly under his shirt. Ranboo’s fingers curl slightly into the fabric as if to make sure Technoblade wouldn’t slip through his fingers. “Breath with me. In, and out.”

All Ranboo can focus on is every touch that sets his skin ablaze; a thumb brushing his over Ranboo’s bruised knuckles, a large, calloused, and scarred hand cupping his cheek, thumb brushing away the tears that slipped free, careful not to apply pressure on any bruising. 

He sways slightly in place, drunk on all the attention, having forgotten what it was like being touched without hostile intent. He just wants to stay like that. Just a little longer. Dream had never been this gentle with him. There was always a threat in every one of his touches, fingers that would tangle in his hair or grip too tightly, the touches there to keep Ranboo in line. 

But this is different. This is nice.

Just as soon as it came, the hand slipped away, Ranboo swallowing back a whimper. His hand is brought away from Technoblade’s chest and set on his lap. “Alright, so exile talk is a no-go. We’re getting somewhere, yeah? Boundaries and all that. Next time I’ll ask before grabbing you, okay? You just weren’t responding so. Before anything else, though, I just need to ask you something.”

Ranboo nods. His hand flexes. The fire under his skin has died out too quickly for him to savor. “Do you want to get revenge on L’manburg with me?”

In any other situation, Ranboo would have immediately turned down the offer. He has never been keen on violence, especially when dying is permanent, but things are different now. He wants- he needs answers. And all those answers are in L’manburg with Tommy and the others. Ranboo knows he can’t go back on his own, but with Technoblade it just may be possible. “...yes.”

──────────

“Are you sure you want to keep staying down here?” Technoblade stands beside Ranboo in his cave. There is clear disdain in his voice. “You can take my bed, kid, I don’t mind-”

“Sir, it’s okay-” Ranboo cuts him off before swallowing his tongue.

But rather than being upset at being interrupted, Technoblade scratches the back of his head and sighs. “Fine. At least let me set up some actual lighting- actually, grab me my pickaxe? Just looking at this ruins my property value.”

By the time Technoblade is finished, Ranboo’s cave has been turned into a cozy and warm room, a cocoon for those in need of rest. It was the sort of place one could go to feel calm. A place Ranboo was desperately in need of. Strong grey rock walls are covered by tapestries and maps Technoblade insisted he could have. Strong wooden beams hold up the ceiling providing extra support. Enchanted lanterns that will never burn out hang from iron chains that bathe the room in an orange glow that’s easy on the eyes and chasing out the shadows.

An old rug is stretched across the floor so Ranboo isn’t walking on cold stone any longer. An empty bookshelf is placed beside a dresser and a long desk. There are shelves built into the walls to carry Ranboo’s meager belongings, an empty sword rack prepared and waiting. Finally, there is the sleeping nook built under an awning with all the pillows and blankets one may need, large enough for his tall body. “There- now it actually looks like someone lives here. No offense, Ranboo.”

“I-” he’s at a loss for words. Technoblade lifts an eyebrow when Ranboo turns, eyes downcast. “I don’t deserve this…”

“Eh, maybe. But it’s yours now anyway,” with a flick of his cape, Technoblade begins climbing the ladder. He pauses mid-step turning over his shoulder. “I’ll be back tomorrow with some medicine that’ll help with your fever.”

──────────

Ranboo is given new clothes the next morning.

“This should just about do it,” Technoblade mutters as he hands over a stack of clothing. Ranboo keeps his arms out holding his tongue. “Most of these are some of my old clothes, but they should just about fit you. Go ahead and try them on. I’ll wait up here.”

Ranboo watches the stone being replaced over the hole. He turns to face the pile. The undershirt he decides on is a light grey, soft beneath his trembling fingers. Something that’ll keep him warm in such frigid temperatures. It hugs him loosely, not pressing too tight on his wounds, not a single hole or loose thread. 

The knitted turtleneck sweater that goes over is a dark maroon. The sleeves are too long and fall past his hands like paws. The neck is loose, large enough so Ranboo could pull it over his mouth and nose if he wished.

The brown trousers are a little short at the ankles, a slit cut into the back for his tail to easily slip through. They keep falling off from how malnourished he is so he grabs a leather belt from the pile. Buried deep in the pile is a pair of black gloves Ranboo is quick to pull on. They’re, thankfully, made of wool. He doubts he can ever look at rabbits the same.

Last is a navy blue cloak lined with ermine fur. It wraps around his entire torso and cuts off above his stomach allowing for easy movement. There are a pair of pom-poms attached to the front that dangle with every movement and a hood large enough to fit his ears.

“Looks like I was right,” he hears as he ascends the ladder. “You’ll probably fit into it better later. And I’ll have to measure you for armor, but that’s later. There’s just one last thing-”

A pair of toeless socks with leather straps and dark plating is held out. The armor sewn into the black fabric is purple, thrumming with too many enchantments to name, as if someone took the night sky and implemented it into the plating. Ranboo has only ever seen netherite a handful of times. It’s a rare material- one only hardened Players will discover in the depths of the Nether. He hesitates to take it from Technoblade’s hands, to even touch it, to even breathe near it. 

He doesn’t deserve this. None of this-

“So you can walk in the snow without getting hurt,” Technoblade explains when Ranboo doesn’t move. “Endermen are allergic to water, right?”

It’s all too much. But rejecting the gifts would be wrong.

(“Do my gifts mean nothing to you?”)

Hesitantly, he reaches out and takes the socks. He remembers Fundy wearing something similar, made for hybrids with feline traits that couldn’t wear normal footwear. There is padding for his paw pads.

“Th-thank you.” Ranboo whispers. He hasn’t felt this warm since- he can’t remember.

“Hey, you can’t go getting revenge dressed like you were. Come on, I’ll get breakfast going.”

──────────

After a week, Ranboo’s fever finally passes for good.

His throat ache persists and he has a hard time stomaching food, but the daily remedies have been helping greatly.

(“At the end of the day, potions are just magic drugs. If you drink too much you’ll develop an addiction to the high that follows. Healing potions are especially the worst. They have a tendency to make too many extra cells which causes blood clotting and, really, it’s just a pain,” Technoblade explains, a hand pressed to Ranboo’s sweating forehead. The teen whimpers as a foul-smelling cup of tea is brought to his lips. “But slowness is the worst, they slow down internal organs, and…” Ranboo’s eyelids flutter shut as he listens to Technoblade ramble.)

He has slowly been getting better. His dizzy spells haven’t been as frequent and he can muster the strength to walk for short periods. And, once Technoblade deems Ranboo healthy enough, he begins laying out the plan.

“We can’t show up to L’manburg like this,” Technoblade begins bluntly. Breakfast consists of eggs, bread, and cheese as well as a cup of hot milk and honey for his throat. He’s discovered, recently, that he rather enjoys milk. Thankfully, with Technnoblade's cow downstairs and his bee farm, their supply is endless. Ranboo watches the man from over the lip of his cup. There are a pair of glasses sat low on his nose, an arm thrown over the back of his chair, hair messy from sleep. “We’ll need to get back my stuff.”

“Stuff?” Ranboo has been getting better at speaking without being spoken to first. Baby steps as Technoblade calls it. Sometimes, when in his darkest moments, he’ll let a ‘sir’ slip here and there, but Technoblade never comments on it, simply being there when needed.

“Yeah. After my execution-” at Ranboo’s wide-eyed look he backtracks. “Ah, right, I didn’t tell you that. Long story short our mutual friends showed up, threatened to kill Carl, cut my braid-”

“Braid?” His train of thought comes to a stop. “Why- why your hair ?”

“Braids are a sign of pride for piglin especially brutes.” His hand curls into a fist. “And they knew . I had to sit there as Quackity took a blade and-” he inhales sharply when he realizes Ranboo is still there. “Anyway, they took me to L’manburg to execute me with an anvil but I had a totem so yeah and-” for a moment, Technoblade’s eyes darken. “We need to save him.”

“Save him? Who?” But Technoblade isn’t listening. He’s already ten steps ahead, rambling out loud.

“Scratch that- saving Phil is the first priority. There is a sewer system built under L’manburg that will allow us to move without being spotted. Actually, I’ll go by myself. I can get out faster and-”

“I-” Ranboo swallows the lump in his throat. He has Technoblade’s attention now. There is no going back. “I want to help. Please.”

He exhales heavily through his nose, the chair creaking as he leans back. “Chat- Chat, I know. Okay, you can come along, but if things go south I want you to run. No trynna playing hero, got it?” Ranboo nods. “‘Kay, so the plan will be-”

Ranboo never gets to hear the end of his sentence. Their conversation is cut off by a loud knocking on the front door. Technoblade gets to his feet in an instant, a hand waving in the air materializing an enchanted netherite pickaxe. Ranboo stays frozen in his seat, heart pounding in his ears. “Who is it?” He asks, projecting his voice loud enough to be heard outside.

“You know who it is,” a voice Ranboo is intimately familiar with calls back. One that haunts his nightmares and smiles at him in the shadows. Through the window, there’s a flash of green. “Open up, Techno, I just got a few questions!”

Dream is here.

Chapter Text

There is no time.

“Please-” Ranboo reaches out. His fingers reach out to grasp onto the corner of Technoblade’s shirt. He hangs his head, shoulders trembling. “Please- he can’t- I-”

Technoblade is silent for a moment. Thinking. Ranboo lifts his head when he sighs before putting his pickaxe away and waving Ranboo over. “Alright, quick, get in that box. We don’t have enough time to get downstairs.” The box is barely big enough for Ranboo to fit, spruce trapdoors making up the framework, obnoxious amounts of cobwebs filling the corners. The lid could barely even be called a lid, the hinges rusted over and unable to fully be closed leaving a gap for air. Ranboo feels the hair on his neck rise in fear. “We don’t have enough time.”

The invisibility potion in his hands shakes. Ranboo knows there’s no time- that any minute now Dream will grow tired and barge inside. He knows what will happen if he’s found. But that doesn’t stop his head from spinning, tail tucked between his legs. He flinches when a hand squeezes his shoulder.

“It’s just temporary. I’ll be right out here, okay?” Technoblade reassures him. “It’s a small enough space that he won’t see the potion particles, and he won’t suspect you to hide in there. The moment he’s gone, you can come out.”

Another knock on the door.

Ranboo takes a deep breath. He can do this. This won’t be like the panic room. It won’t be.

Once he swallows the vile grey liquid, the invisibility takes effect instantaneously rippling over his skin, hiding him from sight to the naked eye. The breath is stolen straight from his lungs, and his heart shudders and slows in his chest. The room around him sways, the colors and furniture melting into one giant blob. But he can't worry about that now. He doesn’t waste any more time- Ranboo throws himself into the box. 

His head smacks against the frame causing his vision to spot before he could regain control of his momentum. Just as he thought, he barely fits. Ranboo curls up tightly with his entire back up against the wall, legs crunched up to his chest, one arm pinned beneath him, the other wrapped around his ankle grasping his tail. There is no wiggle room. The air is damp and musty even with the crack.

The front door creaks open.

“You know, I’ve never actually been here. So…” He keeps his hands, gloved and shaking, folded firmly around himself to avoid making any movement, any noise. He thought he was getting better. He was wrong. Dream sounds calm enough.

“Oh yeah, come on in. Make yourself at home.” His breathing speeds up as the walls seem to close in forcing the air right out of his lungs. Technoblade doesn’t sound any different than usual, an air of disinterested casualness following his every word. “So, what brings you around?”

“Well, there’s a bit of a problem…” The footsteps stop. Right in front of the box. “You see, someone was exiled from the SMP, and it was my job to watch them. And, well, he kinda ran away.”

“Then you did a shit job at it.”

“Mmm, yeah, I guess you could say that,” fingers tap rhythmically atop the box. Stay quiet. Stay still. Ranboo squeezes his eyes shut. “L’manburg thinks that he’s dead, but I know better. But I was wondering. Have you seen him?”

“I have not seen him. I didn’t even know new people were let on. If you can’t tell, Dream, I’m retired. That’s not my problem anymore.”

Dream hums. The sort of hum when he’s upset or knows when Ranboo was lying. The calm before the storm. But Technoblade doesn’t crack as Ranboo would’ve, begging for forgiveness. “Are you sure?”

Technoblade doesn’t slip up. If Ranboo didn’t know better he’d believe his lies. “Pretty sure.”

“Then you don’t mind if I look around?”

There’s the briefest pause. One that has adrenaline coursing through Ranboo’s veins. “Yeah, you can look around.”

If he didn’t calm down, he was going to be found and that didn’t just mean trouble for Ranboo- Technoblade was going through all this just to hide him. He couldn’t be found. He couldn’t.

But he can’t do this. He can’t- it’s the panic room all over again, and he can feel the panic rising in his stomach, up past his ribs, through his chest, into his throat. There’s a certain point he gets to sometimes where he loses all sense of reality and all of his senses go dull. It’s only happened a couple of times, but the time it takes to mentally recover is too much. He'll end up sleepwalking at those times and not remember what he's done. Once he woke up covered in blood. He’d rather get his leg chopped off again than go through that. 

“Two plates?” Dream hums, a spoon tapping on a table. He’s angry. It’s one of his signs. He taps- a lot. Ranboo wants nothing more than to jump out of his skin and be swallowed by the abyss. He can’t take this. It feels as if the air itself is strangling him. “Thought you lived alone.”

“I do. Second plate’s for Steve.” Something in Technoblade’s tone shifts. “We animals have to stick together, right?”

Dream laughs, humorless and dark. “Oh, Blade, I was just joking when I said that! You’re always so serious.”

The tour around the house continues. It feels like Dream will never leave. He always has questions up his sleeve and a cheery response that feels robotic, rehearsed. Every little thing he picks at including things that don’t involve Ranboo.

Eventually, they head downstairs and Ranboo finally breathes. He doubles over splaying his hands across the box ground, heaving as his bangs curtain across his eyes.

Then he hears it.

“Technoblade, you wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

It’s the question Ranboo knew Dream would ask the moment he stepped inside. He’s the monster- twisting other peoples’ words and twisting them in strings to do his bidding. Strings that were still wrapped tight around Ranboo’s body squeezing out what’s left. He strains to hear Technoblade’s response, curled on his side, ear pressed to the floor. His feet bump against the box walls.

“...have reason to lie? I don’t even know the guy. You know me, Dream, I only do things that benefit me,” Technoblade’s muffled voice reaches Ranboo. And deep down he knows this is all just a lie to appease Dream, but he can’t help wondering. Does that also apply to him? Has everything just been a lie?

“That’s true…” A shuffle of clothing. Dream’s voice dropping into something sinister. Ranboo could almost imagine the shorter man standing beside Technoblade, always holding his chin up high, never one show any vulnerability, having his pawns do the dirty work. “So, hypothetically, if you did know where Ranboo is and I cashed in that favor…”

Favor? What favor?

Technoblade doesn’t respond immediately. As if thinking it over. The longer it takes the greater Ranboo’s fear grows. His brain screams at him to run get away danger no longer safe. Then Technoblade snorts. “You won’t use it for that.”

“No, I won’t,” Dream laughs beginning to ascend the ladder.

This won’t end well. In every scenario, it ends with Ranboo being caught. He always goes back to Dream.

“There’s no escape for a traitor,” the voice whispers in the confines of the box. Ranboo curls further into a ball tucking his head between his knees. “Just give yourself up. It’ll be easier that way.”

Ranboo’s slipping. He can’t slip. Slipping means noise and noise means being found. Being found means there will be no one to help him. And he’ll be alone. Ranboo can’t go back to that. He can’t . In the past few weeks he has been here he was living not surviving . And it was such a wonderful feeling. Even if it’s all a lie. He wouldn’t even blame Technoblade, not in his situation. He just wants things to stay the way they are. Just a little longer.

So he can’t break. Not even when he hears the box creak and the lid lift open. Not when Ranboo looks up and comes face-to-face with Dream’s mask. He slaps a hand over his mouth just in time to stifle the scream.

Dream is looking right at him.

Don’t breathe. Don’t move.

He repeats the words like a mantra. Not moving. Not breathing. Staring right up at those poorly drawn eyes.

“Well,” Dream steps away. The lid clatters shut. He didn’t see the particles. He didn’t see him. A few tears slip down his cheeks. “If you see Ranboo, let me know. ‘Cause I’ve been out looking for him for the past few weeks. I was able to track down a cave I was pretty sure he took shelter in, but that was the last of his trail. So if you catch wind of him, let me know.”

Technoblade is quick to take Dream’s place in front of the box. Ranboo can see his back through the gap. “Yup, I’ll let you know.”

“Alright. See you later.”

“See you later.” The front door doesn’t shut. Ranboo watches Technoblade’s muscles tense as Dream turns facing them both.

His head tilts. “Just...one last thing.” And Ranboo stifles his gasp just as Dream lifts up his mask. There is no face. No mouth, no nose, no eyes. Just a black, endless void. “Remember your place, Technoblade.”

The door slams shut.

Ranboo flinches when the lid lifts. Through the haze, he sees Technoblade leaning over. His lips are moving, but the words are lost through the fog that makes up his mind. A bucket of milk being held out catches his attention.

Drink.

Ranboo reaches out with a pair of shaking invisible hands, grabbing the bucket weakly. He manages to swallow a few gulps before breaking into a fit of hacking coughs fighting back the urge to throw it all back up. The trapdoors are raised so Ranboo can crawl out, all but collapsing onto his side once he’s free.

“I- I’m-” Ranboo covers his face. He hiccups. He curls into a ball, mentally preparing for what’s to come. “I- I’m so sorry, s-sir. I- I’ll get out of y-your house now. I- I don’t want to cause you a-any more trouble, sir, I-”

“Ranboo, listen to me,” his mouth promptly shuts. This is an order. There is no room for disobedience. Silently, the teen shakes, eyes brimming with tears. Hands hover over his shoulders as if Technoblade wants to comfort him but doesn’t. Ranboo just wants to lean in, wishing to feel that flame under his skin again, but his overall want to be good wins out. “I just need you to focus on breathing. And you can stop apologizing because I’m not kicking you out.”

“But...but Dream…” He’s brought Technoblade too far into his problems. He should handle this on his own. He’s being weak. He-

“I could care less about what that homeless Teletubby has to say,” Technoblade snorts. The insult has Ranboo briefly smile behind his hands. “I- kid, you still with me?” He nods. “Good, can you look up then?”

When Ranboo looks up, Technoblade’s arms are held open for a hug. At his stunned silence he coughs. “Chat said it was a good idea. If you can’t tell, I’m not exactly good at this kind of stuff-”

He’s cut off by Ranboo diving into his arms. His hands fumble to clutch at the back of his shirt as Technoblade comes to fully sit on the floor, arms wrapping around Ranboo, the teen on his knees with his head tucked under Technoblade’s chin. He shakes silently with emotions, trying to be good, do the right thing, cherish this warmth as long as possible. 

But then there are fingers combing- oh so gently- through his hair and a low, gentle voice whispering drawing out his vowels for emphasis, “it’s fine- everything’s going to be alright- you can cry, it’s okay,” and Ranboo breaks.

Ranboo sobs.

Loud and broken, months of pent-up emotions being poured out in one singular instance, tears dampening his shirt, hyperventilating, crumbling like a cookie in water. 

“Mhm, it’s going to be all right,” Technoblade murmurs into his curls. He’s the rock Ranboo clings to in the flood, rocking them back and forth, Ranboo clinging to him with all his strength. Technoblade sits with him until the trembling finally subsides. His sobs dissolve into broken hiccups, his tears forming a damp spot on Technoblade’s shirt.

And there is no panic room. No Dream. No darkness and no hallucinations.

He’s warm. Safe. Alive.

Ranboo falls asleep in Technoblade’s arms, curling on the man’s lap with his tail held in his arms, a content purr filling the silence, and for once, his sleep is dreamless.

Chapter Text

There is a cloak stretched out over the furs and blankets when Ranboo wakes up, the haze of sleep still plaguing his mind. The covers are tucked around him, not enough to trap him and leaving enough wiggle room, comforting and warm like a hug. A hug that will forever be engraved in his mind no matter just how tired he is. His fingers come to brush through the wolf fur that lines the crimson cloak. He grabs what he can, pressing his face into the tamed fabric.

It’s rough, a little scraggly, but in all the right ways. Inhale, exhale. The scents are familiar and ease his soul; faint vanilla, smoked wood, earthy tones, a rich aroma neatly tying it all together. Just through smell alone, Ranboo knows who the cloak belongs to- whose room he’s in. He should be scared. He should be rushing downstairs apologizing for his scene, begging for forgiveness, to be useful.

But Ranboo hasn’t felt this comfortable in a long, long time.

His tail begins swishing. He buries back under the furs and blankets tugging the cloak with him, practically submerged. Just a little longer. He just wants to drift back away into the comfortable haze of sleep- to forget everything he had been through and all of his problems just for a little longer. 

The world could wait.

“Oh, you’re awake!” Ranboo’s ears angle towards the voice. The voice is high-pitch, singsongy like a bird’s, a slight whistle to his words. He hisses when the covers are ripped from his grip forcing him back into the world. “G’morning!”

A boy is grinning down at him. He stands there, his tousled brown hair the color of freshly cut spruce, a maroon beanie unbalanced on his head. He’s so young- face still carrying that boyish youth- yet there is a wisened look in his golden eyes that tell a story all on their own. His curly bangs fall down into his eyes and all Ranboo can see is a wide gap-toothed grin that reminds him of sunshine and sunflowers. He’s wearing an oversized yellow knitted sweater that falls over his hands and reaches his knees. “Here, have some blue! Techie told me you were sad earlier.”

The boy digs through his pant pockets. Ranboo, in the meantime, sits up, the cloak pooling around his lap. Hands gently press against his chest offering a transparent rock. Ranboo knows accepting strange substances from a child he just met is not the smartest decision, but he’s too tired to argue. The rock is oddly cold to the touch and has the same rough texture as an unpolished ore. He tenses up when small hands cover his, guiding them to his chest.

He watches in silent awe as the rock begins to turn blue. With a satisfied smile, the boy bounces on his heels. “I’m Ghostbur- the friendly neighborhood ghost!”

(“Oh, and that’s Ghostbur-” Tubbo points across the deck to where a child is sitting at a wooden stall talking to Phil. “He’s...well, you know about the founder of L’manburg. Wilbur Soot?” Ranboo nods. He has a feeling he knows where this is gone. His eyes never leave Ghostbur who is now waving in their direction. “That’s his ghost.”)

“Oh, uh, hi,” Ranboo stares at the obvious blue gash that runs diagonally across Ghostbur’s chest. How does he talk to the ghost of the former president that blew up a nation that is now an eight-year-old child? Ghostbur tilts his head at his awkward silence. “I’m Ranboo. It’s nice to meet you, Ghostbur. And thank you for the blue. It...it actually helped.”

“Of course!” Ghostbur makes a small ‘oof’ as he sits on the bed, kicking his skinny legs. “So why are you with Techie?” Then he gasps, hands slapping dramatically over his cheeks. Ranboo leans back when Ghostbur gets too close. In a hushed whisper, as if telling a secret, he asks, “am I your uncle?”

For a moment Ranboo feels his brain disconnect and shut off. Maybe he should just go back to sleep. “...what?”

“Ghostbur, leave the kid alone,” a deep, familiar monotone voice still heavy with sleep calls from the doorway. Ghostbur leaps off the bed to rush over and wrap himself around Technoblade’s leg. He sighs, arms crossed over his broad chest as he directs his attention to Ranboo. “Mornin’. How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling better now,” Ranboo mumbles, dropping his head. And it’s true. A hug and a full night's sleep had done wonders for both his body and mind. He’s the most relaxed he’s felt in ages. He bites back a smile as he watches Technoblade try to walk, Ghostbur stubbornly wrapped around his leg being dragged along.

“I wanted to ask,” the calm in Technoblade’s voice has Ranboo stiffening. “What happened to you in exile.” There is no question. This is an order.

He sits as straight as he can, clenching his hands together underneath the cloak, trying to keep himself together. It's easy. He can lay out the events in bulletproof format if Technoblade so wished, yet the memories cause the words to stay stuck in his throat.

“You really have no tact!” Ghostbur huffs climbing his way back onto the bed. “This is why you’re still single!”

“I do not want to hear this from a child,” in response, Ghostbur turns and sticks his tongue out. Technoblade scrubs a hand over his face. “Look, Ranboo, if you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to.”

“I-It’s not that I don’t want to!” Ranboo chews on his cheek. “It’s just-” he can’t . He freezes when a hand comes to rest on his head.

“Baby steps, remember?” Technoblade murmurs. His movements are awkward, but it’s the contact alone that has Ranboo relaxing. “Just say what you can, alright?”

Ranboo slowly relaxes his grip. “It was just Dream and I. He’s- was?- my friend. And...and the rabbit-” the room smells like blood and, for a moment, Ranboo is back in that tent staring into a hole. “And the explos-” he can’t even get the word out. It’s stuck in his throat no matter how much he tries. “But I tried to be good- I tried but I- I-” why can’t he just say it?

When he looks up, it’s just in time to catch the familiar emotion flick across Technoblade’s face. Anger. There is a tension in his manner, a tightness in his face, the very air around them burning with a white-hot flame. The way the rings of silver in his eyes turn red and how a shadow falls over his face until he looks more nightmare than the man Ranboo knows. 

This is the one everyone is scared of- the man who drinks blood and kills for entertainment.

But Dream was always direct with his anger, not like this, and Ranboo doesn’t know what to do. So he does what Dream always expected when he acted out of line. He’s quick to bow over pressing his forehead into the blankets, tail tucked between his legs, a submissive motion. His mouth is moving ten miles per second with the words spilling out too quickly for his ears to catch.

“-I’m- I’m sorry- I can’t- I-” Ranboo curls in on himself, breath stuttering in his throat, desperate for a reaction; a punch, a scream, a slap- something . He hears Technoblade breathe in harshly through his nose. This is it. Here it comes. He tenses up.

He pulls Ranboo out of his bow to tuck him against his shoulder, and even though he’s now half-sitting, half-slumped, braced against the bed with arms limp at his sides, the hands on his head and back are warm.

“I’m not mad at you , kid,” the fingers push into his curls, and Ranboo whimpers. They scrape gently along his scalp. “It’s okay. I just- it’s- I’m not mad at you. Never. Alright? None of this is your fault.”

“But it is…” the argument is too weak. More like a habit. Ranboo leans in until his forehead pressed against Technoblade’s chest. He grips loosely onto his shirt. Inhale, exhale. Listening to the heart that beats evenly in his ears. The fingers combing through his hair grounding him. 

But Technoblade is insistent. And if either notices how he holds onto Ranboo just the slightest bit tighter and how Ranboo leans in more then neither of them point it out. “It’s not your fault.”

They stay like that for what feels like an eternity until Ghostbur clears his throat. “So...when is breakfast?”

“Ghostbur, you don’t even have to eat.” Technoblade grunts. He pulls away, much to Ranboo’s chagrin, giving his hair one last affectionate tousle.

“But it’s the principle that matters! And I want breakfast!” Ghostbur smiles widely at Technoblade’s glare. Ranboo watches how the two share a silent conversation before Technoblade turns to him again, always sure to never make eye contact.

“I guess the brat’s right. You should probably eat something. Come on, I’ll get breakfast going.”

──────────

The cloak over Ranboo’s shoulders feels heavy. Technoblade was insistent he wears it just for breakfast until he got the fireplace going. It feels like a constant hug, large enough to fold over him twice over, being extra careful not to get it dirty. He’s practically swallowed in its crimson depths as he sits down at the table, legs pulled up with his feet pressed against the edge.

Breakfast is toast with jam and butter, a bowl of oatmeal with cranberries mixed in, and a cup of honeyed milk just the way Ranboo likes it. It’s the first real solid meal he’s had in weeks.

“You should’ve built up a food tolerance with the soup,” Technoblade explained, setting the plates down. “If you can’t finish it, that’s fine. Just save what’s left and you can eat it later.”

Ghostbur was insistent on sitting next to Ranboo chatting to him the entire time. He only has a cup of milk, gesturing excitedly with his hands as he talks, a bright beacon in the cabin. Technoblade sits across from them watching with feigned disinterest, his ear flicking whenever Ghostbur’s voice raises.

“...and did you know, apparently, I once blew up a nation and killed everyone? And then I died,” Ranboo chokes on his drink. “But I don’t remember any of it. Everyone says Alivebur was a really bad guy. He was the dragon, and Philza was the hero! Did you know my dad killed him? Isn’t he just the coolest?”

“Uhuh…” Ranboo curls further into his chair unsure how to respond.

Ghostbur’s excitement dwindles and he smiles bitterly into his mug. “You think I’m like Alivebur too, don’t you?” Ranboo looks to Technoblade for help who has been watching Ghostbur, face unreadable. “But I’m not Alivebur. I’m Ghostbur! I-I don’t even remember all those horrible things he did. I only remember the happy things! But don’t get me wrong, I’m super dead And...everybody hates me.”

Ranboo frowns. He scoots his chair closer and gently sets his hand on top of Ghostbur’s head. “Hey...that’s not true.”

“It’s not?” Ghostbur sniffs, looking up at him with wide eyes. His nose is bleeding blue. Ranboo does his best to smile.

“ I like you. I never knew Wilbur, so I have nothing to compare you to. To me, you’re just good ol’ Ghostbur,” the boy wipes his nose using his sleeve. “Do you wanna know something?” He nods vigorously. Ranboo glances briefly across the table before dropping his voice to a whisper. “I...don’t remember a lot of things either.”

“Really?” Ranboo nods. “You should try writing down what you can remember- that’s what I’ve been doing back in my library. Oh, you’d love my library! You should visit sometime! I’ve been collecting every written book in L’manburg to preserve the history and- and I have a drug lab as well and-”

Ranboo chuckles, listening to Ghostbur ramble on, before realizing. “Is...it normal for kids to have drug labs?”

“I’m not a kid!” The ghost puffs his cheeks out indignantly. “I just look like this because I only have happy memories, and those are from my childhood! I don’t really remember what I looked like as an adult. Dad said he had photos but I haven’t seen him around recently.” His eyes light up and he jumps to his feet, hands slamming on the table. “That’s why I came here! I remember!”

“Don’t hit my table...” Technoblade mumbles leaning on his elbow.

“Big Q said Dad went on a trip, but no one knows where! I was wondering if he may have come and visited because you’re his best friend and friends know everything!”

Technoblade’s expression shifts. “The last time I saw Phil was during my execution when he was dragged out and forced to watch . Ghostbur, when was the last time you saw Phil walking around L’manburg? Freely.”

“Um…” Ghostbur rocks on his heels tapping his finger to his chin. Ranboo doesn’t like how any of this sounds. “Maybe...a few weeks ago? That’s when I asked Big Q. Tommy was the one who said I should ask you! He’s like a little brother to me, you know that?”

“Technoblade…” Ranboo speaks quietly, hoping it's not true. “You don’t...you don’t think they…”

The chair scrapes against the floor. “Ranboo, I know you’re still recovering, so I’m going to have Ghostbur stay here with you while I’m gone.” The boy in question gives a quick salute. “I’ll be gone for a few days so don’t do anything stupid and-”

“I’m coming with you,” Ranboo looks up. He focuses on Technoblade’s chin, trying to quell his nerves. “I- we’re working together now, right? I should help. Phil- he was nice when I came. He doesn’t...I want to help.”

Technoblade’s jaw shifts. He’s quiet as he thinks it over, weighing their options.

“...alright. We leave tonight.”

Chapter Text

Vast is a word that barely scratches the surface of the Dream SMP’s sewer system.

Built back during the L’manburg revolution, the twisting tunnels were soon utilized by every server resident, mobs scurrying about on the other side of the walls. There were even railroads designed by Tommy that would lead to specific places such as Pogtopia or the Final Control room. Light fades fast and Ranboo clutches tightly onto the torch in his hand. The walls are cold and the smell of stagnant water heavy on the senses. His feet were sore. But he had to press on.

Just as Technoblade planned, they left before the sun fell and arrived at L’manburg with the moon high in the sky. If everything went according to plan they’d be out by morning. Ranboo couldn't keep track of his own direction. It felt as though they had been walking in circles for hours. Technoblade reassured him they didn’t need a map- that he knew his way through the sewers like the back of his hand.

“I’m the human GPS,” Technoblade said, pressing a hidden stone button that opens up a hidden entrance to the sewers. “They don’t stand a chance against us.”

They had no idea where Phil was being kept. The obvious answer was his house, but according to Ghostbur, the man hasn’t been home in weeks. Obviously, they didn’t have the freedom to comb through the entire city. Technoblade decided they’d just make up the plan as they went, shoving a sword in Ranboo’s hands and gesturing for him to follow. 

So here they are six feet underground on a goose chase.

“It will most likely be underground,” Technoblade says, breaking the awkward silence. He waves his torch through the air before turning a corner. “Since Phil has wings, but they don’t know he can’t fly.”

“He can’t?” Ranboo is quick on Technoblade’s heels. He receives a grunt for a response. “Why?”

“His wing got burned. Was trynna save Wil and got caught in the explosion. I told him it was stupid, but he never listens to me.”

“He was trynna save his son. I think any parent would do the same. But I wouldn’t know though...” This time there’s no response. Ranboo, desperate to clear the silence, continues. “If I had parents I don’t remember them. I grew up alone on the streets until I gathered enough funds to visit Hypixel. There was this really nice couple that would take care of me- the innkeeper and her wife would leave out leftovers for me when the games finished.” And then because Ranboo doesn’t know when to stop, “do you have parents?”

Technoblade doesn’t respond immediately. Ranboo is beginning to prepare an apology when he turns over his shoulder. “...I did. Once.”

“What happened? If...you don’t mind me asking.”

“Killed. We were taken from the Nether into an illegal fighting ring. Died protecting me from some other orphans there who were trynna survive,” Technoblade’s words are clipped, robotic as if reading words from a written page. But Ranboo can only imagine the pain behind it. “It’s how I met Phil. He interrupted one of my fights and asked if I wanted to run away with him and become his apprentice. I was-” he scratches the back of his neck. “I think ‘round your age.”

“Then how old are you now?” It’s a question that has been brewing about in Ranboo’s head. The way Technoblade talked and held himself had him thinking there was more than what meets the surface. To Ranboo, he guessed him to be about in his thirties based on physical appearance alone.

“I stopped keeping count after a hundred. Actually, Chat’s sayin’ a hundred and forty-three now.” Ranboo chokes on air. “You alright, kid?”

“Yeah. Yup, great,” he manages, slamming a fist against his chest. He swears he hears Technoblade snort. “I just- how? ”

“Players stop physically aging after a certain point. We can’t die through natural means, so we just…” A hand is waved vaguely through the air. “Phil’s as old as it gets. A lot of the adults on this server are older than they look.”

“That’s…” It makes sense, really. Ranboo always wondered why there were no old people on Hypixel, and why all the participants were around his age or older. It always made the reality of everything sadder. He could only die through an outside force- he would never die naturally. That just left one question in his head.

How old is Dream?

Ranboo always thought Dream to be in his twenties, but he never had a face to go off of anything. He doesn't even have a face. Every time he thought about Dream there were always more questions than answers. He glances over to Technoblade who has stopped to figure out which direction to go. “...how do you know Dream?”

“Are you sure you wanna know?” Ranboo hesitantly nods. Maybe if he can understand Dream more he can trump his fears. “Well, it was...it was a long time ago we’ll put it at that. I was travelin’ around and I came across this kingdom and the king was kind of a jerk so I took it upon myself to take him out.”

“Did you?”

“Of course I did. I ended up in jail though.”

“Wow...I can’t believe they managed to catch you.”

“Eh, I let myself be taken in. I wanted a break and it seemed like a free hotel stay. Contrary to popular belief, castle dungeons are a pretty comfortable place. So anyway I’m down there and in comes this guy. Apparently, he was also on his way to kill the king, but I got to him first. Eventually, we teamed up and broke out and set the kingdom on fire. After that, we traveled around together for a few years. Participated in big tournaments like MCC and took out governments in our free time,” he sounds nostalgic as he speaks. But soon his face darkens and Ranboo notices the mood shift.

Ranboo hesitates then reaches out. Technoblade visibly flinches when Ranboo’s fingers tap his hand, eventually just sighing and letting him hold on. He has never been good at providing comfort but it’s the least he can do. “What happened?”

“I ended up taking the fall for something that he did. He said it was because he knew I’d survive. It doesn’t really matter anymore.” Ranboo wants to ask more but is stopped when Technoblade holds up his free hand. “We’re under L’manburg.”

“Where should we check first?” He asks quietly. Techno pulls Ranboo along as they navigate the narrow tunnels. There are soul sand-powered lanterns lighting this portion of the sewer hanging off rusty hooks. It’s a haunting sight. “Do- do you know where to go?”

“I do,” they turn another corner. “Chat is snitching. Apparently, something bad is happening. You said you were from Hypixel, right?” Ranboo nods, amazed Technoblade remembers what he said. “Then you know how to fight- good.”

Ranboo’s breath catches in his throat when they reach their destination. A room built entirely out of polished blackstone has been built underneath Phil’s house. There is a singular iron door with a lever that Technoblade steps up to. “According to Chat, no one should be inside. I want you to keep an eye on the door and tell me if anyone comes.” He tightens his grip on the diamond sword he’d been given.

On the count of three, Technoblade shoves the door open and rushes inside, Ranboo quick on his tail. It’s a prison. Nothing near the scale of Pandora’s Vault, but a prison nonetheless. The two rush down a long tunnel lined by empty cells on either side. Ranboo shivers when he sees old blood stains in some. Eventually, they stop at a large cell in the back. The old bars are rusted over and they barely protest under Technoblade’s grip as he forces them open.

Ranboo makes sure to check over his shoulder every odd second. He’s looking to the door when he walks straight into Technoblade. “What’s wrong-”

A hand is slapped over his eyes stopping him mid-sentence.

“Ranboo,” his voice is low, serious. Another hand squeezes his shoulder. “If you don’t think you can handle this, I want you to look the other way.”

“I-” he can smell blood and filth. It’s so familiar it has been embedded in his soul. Ranboo swallows. “I can take it.”

The hand over his eyes slowly slips away. Technoblade steps aside allowing Ranboo a view of the cell.

Phil lies limp against his restraints. He’s completely still, head bowed, face covered by dirty blonde hair. His wings are stretched out on either side of his body. Hooks dig into the fragile appendages connected to black chains bolted to the ground. Each wing, once beautiful and carrying the night sky, has been plucked of feathers, the black plumes scattered about the cell floor. Dried blood smears across the bare skin- what skin is left, that is. The joints running along his spine and over where the wings meet skin are twisted, swollen with a deep, purple and yellow blotches, dislocated out of place. They’re mangled beyond repair.

The only sign that he’s still alive is the quiet rise and fall of his chest.

“Oh god-” Ranboo slaps a hand over his mouth. He can’t move. He wants to tear his eyes away but he can’t. Technoblade is frozen in place, eyes taking in the scene before him.

Then Phil shifts and Technoblade is rushing into the cell. With one swing he breaks the chains. He catches the man before he can hit the ground. “Phil- Phil, ‘m here. You’re okay- you’re safe now,” he murmurs then looks to Ranboo. “Help me get the hooks out.”

Ranboo’s body moves on autopilot. He kneels on the other side of Phil carefully pulling the hooks out.

“Techno?” Phil’s head turns in the general direction of his voice. It’s now that Ranboo understands why he didn’t see them coming. He can’t see. His eyes have been scooped out, eyelids being consciously closed, dried blood spilling down his cheeks like tear stains. A hand shakily lifts and Technoblade gently guides it to his cheek. “Oh gods- Techno-” he all but collapses into Technoblade’s chest. His wails echo off the walls, broken yet full of relief, violently shaking in his oldest friend’s arms.

Technoblade scoops Phil up, brushing the dirty overgrown blonde bangs from his face, pressing a kiss to his head followed by a whispered “fuck, what did they do to you?” as Phil sobs, fingers clutching desperately to his cloak, wings shaking and trembling.

It’s not long that Phil ends up falling unconscious like that. Technoblade has Ranboo help him shift Phil so that he’s being carried on his back, wings hanging limply at angles they shouldn’t be in. While moving Phil, Ranboo notices that his right kneecap is completely shattered. He doubts that will ever heal right even with potions. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Ranboo just nods. He doesn’t want to stay here any longer than necessary.

“You could have been in here,” Dream’s voice whispers in the back of his mind. Ranboo jogs after Technoblade as they head to the exit. “You should be grateful a traitor like you was only in exile.”

“Shut up,” Ranboo whispers under his breath. The voice is gone the moment they step through the doors. He doesn’t look back. Neither does Technoblade. It’s only once they are far, far away from the jail that Ranboo speaks. “What...why would they…”

“It’s because they found out Phil was helping me,” Technoblade says. “I found a compass I gave Phil on one of them. I knew something was wrong when they brought Phil out for my execution because his wings were-” he sucks in a sharp breath. “They were clamped. I could just- I knew he was in pain but I didn’t- there wasn’t anything I could do. I wanted to save him then but he just- he just kept screaming at me to go and I couldn’t-”

“We got him now. That’s what matters, right?” Ranboo tries to sound positive like he used to. But he knows it doesn’t work. There is no way to see this in a positive light. Phil was tortured, and they knew exactly who. “I just...I can’t believe Tubbo was alright with this. I can’t believe Tommy just let this happen. This...none of this is right ! It’s- how do we tell Ghostbur?”

Technoblade doesn’t respond. Ranboo doubts there is an answer. He stares at Phil for a while then back the way they came. When they had decided to set out, Ranboo was excited to revisit L’manburg. Now he wishes he never has to visit the dreaded place ever again.

Chapter Text

“Ranboo, I need you to clear the table,” Technoblade calls, kicking the door shut with his wet boot. He’d managed to walk in through the door with a person-sized bundle. He had wrapped Phil in his cloak for good measure, the fur and thick lining helping cushion his wounds. Phil had woken up a few hours after their rescue, but only to a surface level of lucid. He barely made any noise on the trip back. He just kept his face pressed to Technoblade’s chest and breathed.

“R-Right!” Ranboo quickly clears off the table. They didn’t have time to get him upstairs. He helps keep Phil steady as Technoblade opens a cabinet digging through medical supplies and potions that were neatly tucked away. Everything he thought they’d need is pulled out- healing potions, gauze, sterilizer, more potions Ranboo didn’t recognize- leaving the cabinet open for easy access. The first thing he did after setting it all down was pick up a fire poker and get a fire started.

Half-slumped against Ranboo, half-sitting up, Phil whines low in his throat as Technoblade returns to wipe a damp cloth across his face, cleaning away the muck and grime that has built up. The more that is washed away the more injuries are revealed. His skin is pale- too pale- painted in a mosaic of purples, browns, and yellows, small cuts marking what isn’t bruised. “Do- are you sure we don’t need a cleric?”

“Village is too far for a trip this late. But I’ve been in wars, Ranboo,” Technoblade mutters, averting his eyes. He uncorks a pink potion swirling the contents around. “I know how to handle things like this. It just- Phil, I need you to drink this, alright?” The man hums in acknowledgment. Technoblade holds his head as Phil drinks the potion. Ranboo watches as, thankfully, the flesh and skin begin to heal a little and scar over. At the end of the day, it won’t look pretty, but looks are the last thing on any of their minds.

“Now-” his gaze flicks to Phil’s wings. The dead tissue was peeling right off the bone. The few feathers that remain are shriveled up like dead leaves on a branch.

Ranboo knew what he was thinking. He was thinking it too.

Can they be saved?

“Phil, your wings are in a pretty bad state,” he speaks slowly, emphasizing each word so they can be heard. “I can try and clip most of the feathers off and bandage the wounds but-”

“Cut them off.” There is no hesitation. Phil hangs his head as he breathes hard through his nose. Technoblade’s hands curl into fists on the table. “They- they’re dead Techno. I can feel it. I- get them off- please .”

“But-” Ranboo glances between the two. This can’t be the only way. “What about a totem of undying? They bring back limbs upon death, right?”

“Only injuries suffered before dying are healed. The time intervals have been too long,” Technoblade says grimly. “Respawn would bring them back as well, but Phil only has one life. We can’t risk that. Phil, are you sure about this? They-” he’s stopped by Phil placing a hand over his. “...alright. I’ll give you an anesthetic so you don’t feel anything.”

⪼ “You can’t be serious…” Ranboo looks away with a shaky exhale. Through the corner of his eye, he sees Technoblade pull out a bottle full of a silvery liquid. Just like the health potion, Technoblade helps Phil swallow it down. The effects are immediate. He lays him face-down on the table. A pair of surgical gloves are pulled out from the cabinet and tugged over his hands. Then Technoblade materializes his axe. “I can’t- oh god-”

Even with his head turned, Ranboo can visualize the scene. Technoblade swinging until the axe finds its target. Sawing through the skin and muscle and bone that don’t cut with the initial swing.

Left and right, left and right, again and again until they are completely severed.

He cups his hands over his ears, pressing down hard. The smell of blood is thick in the air. He can hear the bones crunch as the sharpened blade cuts through. A few feathers drift to the floorboards.

“Fuck-” he hears Technoblade grunt.

Thump

Something heavy is thrown to the ground. He flinches. A wing. He feels like he's going to be sick. “Ranboo, get over here.”

The last thing Ranboo wants is to look, but he has to. He wants to help, and this is an order. There is no room for argument. 

Pinching his eyes shut, the teen quickly steps back over. He can barely manage to pull the gloves on in time as a roll of bandages and potion of healing are passed over. “I need you to dress the wound. You know how to do that, yeah?” Ranboo blankly nods.

Just compartmentalize. Take it one step at a time. Ranboo has always been good at that.

His hands shake as they hover over the fresh wounds. An infection has already settled deep in the muscle from the dead appendage. The tissue around the sawed bone is a brownish white giving off a foul, dead smell. A clear infection. Ranboo remembers treating his own back in exile. He’d almost lost a part of his tail in the process. The inflamed area around where his wing had been is a bright red. 

Hopefully, with the potions and limb removed, it will heal properly over time. Ranboo uncorks the bottle pouring a good amount over the gaping wound. It bubbles upon contact as steam rises up from the healing flesh. The potion kicks in immediately as the tissue exerts blood. That’s a good sign. He thinks. He takes the roll of bandages and begins wrapping them around Phil’s torso.⪻

When the second wing is removed Ranboo repeats the process. By the time they’ve finished, bone-deep exhaustion has settled over Ranboo. He feels like crying. Phil looked so small lying on the table, wingless, blood and pus from the infections covering their gloved hands.

With the worst of it over, Technoblade busies himself with splinting Phil’s leg and bandaging his left arm that is also broken. Ranboo stiffly stands by the table. He can’t form a single thought. There are too many emotions racing through him. He doesn’t even realize Technoblade has finished until his shoulder is nudged.

“I’m taking him upstairs and heading to bed. I suggest you do the same.” Ranboo stiffly turns his head. There are bags under Technoblade’s eyes he hadn’t seen before. His hands are shaking. Technoblade is gentle as he scoops Phil into his arms, struggling to climb the ladder with the extra weight. Ranboo follows. He hadn’t even realized there was a second bedroom up here. Just like on the table, Phil is laid face-down, the blankets and Technoblade’s cloak tucked around him. 

Before Technoblade can leave, Ranboo grips onto his sleeve. “I- I don’t want to-” he struggles with his words. He worries that if he’s left alone he’ll do something he’ll regret.

“You can, uh,” Technoblade motions to himself, Ranboo raising his chin, “stay with me, if you want. I don’t mind.”

He nods. Ranboo follows Technoblade to his room like a terrified child. “Should- should I sleep at the foot of the bed?”

Rather than respond, Technoblade sits on the edge of the mattress and tugs his boots off. He soon lays back and rolls onto his side, back facing Ranboo. Ranboo awkwardly shifts in place.

“...get in before I change my mind.”

There’s a quiet hum as Ranboo worms his way under the covers, quickly submerged under the endless furs and blankets. His tail wraps tightly around his leg, keeping his body on the edge so he isn’t taking up too much space. Ranboo doesn’t mention how Technoblade didn’t completely extinguish the lantern- a weak flame chasing away the shadows. It’s embarrassing enough to come to terms with his fear of the dark.

The events of the day finally hit Ranboo.

He swallows a sob and slaps a hand over his mouth. He’s shaking in place, his other hand gripping onto the sheets as tight as he can, heart pounding in his ears. All he can think about is how he could’ve been in Phil’s position. How ruthless they would have been with him. And, worst of all, he thinks about how Dream was right. He really was doing Ranboo a kindness in exile. It could have been much, much worse, and yet-

A hand finds his and squeezes gently, rubbing the back with his thumbs. When an arm comes to silently wrap around his shoulders, Ranboo willingly falls into Technoblade’s chest, the shirt catching his stray tears. A hand rubs comforting circles on his back as a chin rests on his head.

“Thank you…” He murmurs as quietly as possible. He feels Technoblade’s chest rumble.

“Go to sleep, kid.”

And so Ranboo closes his eyes.

──────────

Ranboo wakes up to an empty bed. The morning is still dark, though a few rays shine through the partially-closed curtains. He must’ve only been asleep for a few hours. It certainly feels like it. He swings his leg over the bed hugging a blanket over his shoulders to ward off the cold. The floorboards are chilly underneath his paws as he creeps out. 

With how quiet the cabin is, Ranboo’s sensitive ears are able to catch the faint sound of sobbing and whispers. His curiosity gets the best of him and he creeps down the hall stopping in front of Phil’s room.

“...should have just given me up!” Technoblade’s voice. He sounds muffled as if his face is pressed against a shoulder. There’s a faint laugh, pitched up, sad and a little broken. It reminds Ranboo too much of his nights spent alone in his tent when the nights dragged on too long and the pain was too much.

“I knew I could handle it,” Phil says, sounding hoarse and exhausted. A clear lie. “I just didn’t think they’d go that far. Not on a server like this.”

Who? Ranboo desperately wants answers, but he doesn’t want to risk the outcome of being caught eavesdropping. “And Ranboo- gods, what did they even do to him? I should’ve- I knew I should have done something when I heard he got exiled but I...Dream-”

“I’ll kill him if I see him again.”

The floor slips out from under Ranboo’s feet. He manages to catch himself before he can make any noise, falling to his knees softly. He should be relieved to hear this- to know there are people who would be willing to go so far for him. Yet why does he only feel dread?

“Because I’m your only friend,” the voice is back, its sugary sweet voice making Ranboo want to vomit. “You wouldn’t wish death upon your best friend, would you?”

“...don’t care what it takes I’ll…”

Ranboo doesn’t wait to hear the conversation finish. He’s on his feet in an instant, sprinting out of the cabin and collapsing in the snow. The morning wind rushes around him violently. It whistles in his ears drowning out his thoughts and Dream’s voice. Ranboo’s fingers curl into the snow. Tears stung at the corner of his eyes.

“Just come back to me. It’ll be easier that way. If you don’t, you’ll only be causing more pain for them,” and he knows it’s true. A gloved hand grabs his chin and tips his head up. A reflection of himself stares back wearing Dream’s mask, red and green smeared down the surface like tears. “You can’t trust anyone except for me. They’ll all just betray you in the end. You know this. L’manburg won’t trust you again. And soon the anarchists won’t either. Come back, Ranboo.”

“I don’t care!” Ranboo cries out over the wind. “I don’t care about countries or sides. I just- why can’t they understand that none of it matters? I thought they were all friends and yet they did that to Phil for choosing his friend! I was exiled because Tubbo chose a side! And now- now I have to pick? I don’t want to choose!”

He glares up at the apparition as it chuckles. “Oh, but you have chosen a side. The side of a traitor.”

“But I’ve never betrayed anyone!”

“You’ve betrayed Tommy by becoming friends with the very people who helped destroy his dreams,” Ranboo tenses up. “You betrayed Tubbo by destroying George’s house. You betrayed everyone in L’manburg who trusted you- who gave you a home- who let you in with open arms. You betrayed me.”

“That’s not true…” He dips his head staring at the snow. “I just- I just wanted a home…a family...”

There is no response.

When Ranboo finds the courage to look up, the hallucination is gone.

And he is alone in the snow.

Chapter Text

Technoblade was leaving for a few days.

“Woodland mansions are always a pain to track down, but if I’m lucky I’ll come back with totems for all of us,” Technoblade says. He sheathes a netherite sword at his hip and grabs his cloak off the coat rack. Ranboo shifts in place, handing over a satchel full of food. “I left the recipe for Phil’s medicine in the kitchen, and there’s enough food to last through three winters in the basement.”

He trusted Technoblade, but there was a looming sense of dread that had been hanging over him since Phil’s rescue and his trauma-induced hallucination. He honestly hadn’t expected Technoblade to let him stick around for as long as he had. Their hastily made deal to get revenge on L’manburg has been put on the backburner since the Butcher Army took all of Technoblade’s armor and weapons, and all Ranboo has done is cause problems. He figured that the man would get tired of him pretty quickly and kick him out. 

He didn’t.

He gave Ranboo a place to stay, to feel warm and safe. He gave him a room, proper clothes, and good food.

But Ranboo didn’t want to be a liability, especially with how much Technoblade has done for him, so he swallowed the lump forming in his throat and helped Technoblade prepare to leave. It was the least he could do. Even if all he wanted was to beg Technoblade to stay- to just forget about L’manburg and continue living a peaceful, uneventful life.

Carl knickers softly as Techonblade presses a palm against his muzzle. Ranboo shifts in the snow awkwardly. 

“Kid, c’mere.” He’s at his side in a second, wringing his gloved hands together, the winter breeze blowing through his overgrown hair.

A short sword is pressed into Ranboo’s hands. The curved and jagged blade is made entirely out of netherite, blue and purple blended into the metal painting a mosaic of hues, shining under the sun. The hilt is made of gold- Nether gold to be specific with how naturally warm to the touch it is as if formed from lava. Details are carefully carved into the gold surrounding an emerald that is embedded as a centerpiece. The handle is wrapped in expertly tanned leather.

Ranboo keeps a firm grip on the handle and runs his fingers along the blade. His reflection stares back, enchantments radiating out of its heart.

“I can’t-” the words are stuck in his throat. Ranboo knows this wasn’t just a spare sword Technoblade had lying around. He’s seen his swords- has watched him sharpen the blades, being shown all the tricks of the trade when he couldn’t sleep. This was a new sword. One made just for him. “I-”

A hand ruffles his hair. Ranboo feels himself begin smiling.

“Stay safe while I’m gone, yeah? Don’t cause the old man too many problems,” the fondness in his voice isn’t lost on Ranboo. Unable to trust his voice, Ranboo nods. He clutches the sword to his chest as the hand slips from his head.

“Aren’t you also an old man?” Ranboo can’t help mumbling, grinning at Technoblade’s dramatic groan.

“I knew telling you was a horrible idea.”

Ranboo’s tail slaps against his legs with how fast it’s swishing. He stays out there watching Technoblade and Carl’s silhouettes disappear on the horizon. It’s only when snow begins to settle on his shoulders does he step inside. His cheeks hurt from smiling. When was the last time he smiled so much?

──────────

Ranboo hasn’t seen Phil since the surgery. Every chance he had, he came up with an excuse or turned tail. The image of Phil on the table, wingless, vulnerable, forever embedded in the forefront of his mind. He knows it’s wrong- that it’s selfish- but it has been nearly two weeks now and Ranboo has yet to enter his room. But now, with Technoblade gone, he has no choice.

He has never wanted to avoid a social situation as much as he does now.

“Come in!” Phil’s voice sounds when Ranboo knocks on the door. He shifts his weight from foot to foot and turns the doorknob. His shoulder presses against the wooden door while his hands balance the tray of food and medicine he so neatly put together, trying to calm his nerves. Phil is sitting up in bed when Ranboo steps into the room. A roll of fresh bandages is rolled over his eyes and an unbuttoned shirt is pulled over his shoulders leaving the bandages around his chest visible. Sat on his shoulder is a crow Ranboo most definitely does not remember ever letting in. “I’m taking Techno already left?”

“Uh, yeah,” and he’s off to a poor start. Ranboo sets the tray down on the dresser and pulls over a stool to sit on. He pauses when he sees the open book on Phil’s lap. “Uh…”

“Ah, I guess Techno didn’t tell you,” there’s a curt whistle, and the crow comes to stand on Phil’s lap. “This is Ian. I can see through his eyes like they were my own.”

“Oh.” Ranboo stares blankly at the crow. The gears in his head are turning. “Oh!”

Phil laughs, closing the book. “I have more of these little shits, but only Ian is allowed inside after the mess they caused last time.”

Ranboo vaguely recalls waking up in the middle of the night to Technoblade screaming and cursing, Phil laughing, and the sound of birds and crashing.

“How does it work? The seeing, I mean,” he hesitantly reaches out. Ian dips his head so Ranboo can brush a finger over his head.

“Not sure, to be honest. The crows are the souls of the dead who refuse to move on, and they began following me when they realized I could hear them as the angel of death,” Ranboo nods as if he’s understanding a single word Phil is saying. He must let something slip in his expression because Phil chuckles. “Sorry, sometimes I forget stuff like that isn’t as common as people make it out to be.”

“No, it’s alright! I kind of lived in my own little bubble back on Hypixel,” he rubs his neck. “So...are you like a god?”

Phil hums taking the loaf of bread off his tray. He breaks it in half letting Ian eat the crumbs. “One could put it that way. I’m more of a...messenger tasked with carrying out the goddess of death’s wishes.”

Ranboo nods. Phil raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t understand a single thing I just said, did you?”

“Nope!”

──────────

Technoblade was just supposed to be gone for a few days. Ranboo was to watch over Phil and make sure the cabin didn’t burn down. He’d feed Steve, help Phil take his medicine, clean up around the house, and spend his night reading from Technoblade’s attic library. It was calm. There were rarely any mobs that wandered too close for comfort, and they were miles upon miles away from anyone else.

How did everything go so wrong?

“Please, just go. No one is home...please…” Ranboo chants under his breath. He flinches when there is another heavy knock on the door. He was preparing to go outside and collect firewood when he saw Dream’s silhouette in the distance. Thankfully, the masked man wasn’t close enough to catch Ranboo frantically sprinting up the porch steps into the house. It’s morning, but he turned off all the lanterns and shut the windows hoping Dream would just leave.

He didn’t.

“Ranboo, what’s going on?” He doesn’t know when Phil came downstairs. But that only made it all so much worse.

“I-” another knock. “Dream’s here. I can’t-” his grip on his sword hilt tightens. He has to stay safe. Technoblade trusted him. For the first time, someone trusted Ranboo. He couldn’t break that trust. Not now. Not ever.

Phil, however, seems unphased by the mention. He rubs the back of his neck and sighs, resting a hand on Ranboo’s shoulder. “I’ll handle. Go make yourself scarce, alright? We’re out of invis-pots aren’t we?” Ranboo nods. That had been the first thing he searched- Technoblade having shown him where he stashed all his potions away. “Just our luck. Hopefully, this won’t take long.”

The last thing Ranboo wants is to climb back into that horrid box, but they have no choice. With a deep breath, Ranboo pulls in his long limbs so he can hide, silently closing the lid behind him.

The front door is swung open.

“Morning.” Dream’s cheer is audible as he stands just out of Ranboo’s vision. “I didn’t know you were living here, Phil. What happened to New L’manburg?”

“There wasn’t much staying for,” Phil says. Ranboo has never seen the man act so cold. “What can I do you for, Dream?”

“Well, I was in the area and I thought I’d drop by and visit Techno.”

“Sorry to say he’s not here. He’s out at the moment.” Phil doesn’t wait for Dream’s response. He begins to shut the door but is stopped by a boot wedging between the crack. Ranboo covers his mouth as a gloved hand gripped the door.

“A shame. Well, can I come in for some tea? It’s so cold out here and I’ve being walking for ages.”

Phil gestures to his face. “Mate, I’m blind. I can barely walk around this house. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Oh, Philza, we both know that isn’t completely true,” Phil is forced to step back as Dream forces his way inside. Dream is looking directly at Ian. “I wouldn’t have taken your eyes if I knew it would hinder you in some way. And we both know I had no choice! They made me. Do you think I’d enjoy hurting you? You saw how bloodthirsty Quackity is- I have to stay on their good sides.”

“Mhm.” Phil crosses his arms. Not the slightest bit convinced. “Drop the act, Dream. We both know this isn’t why you’re here.”

“Always so pushy , aren’t you?” Dream takes a step forward. “A wise man once taught me that if you have the opportunity to gain a favor,” with the flick of his wrist, he summons his axe, a glow of green left behind. “Take it. And, well, what better than to have the president of the nation in my pocket? There’s no reason why I need to destroy L’manburg. They’ll destroy themselves from inside. All they need is a little push. ”

Ranboo hates how familiar that phrase sounds. Just another memory locked away with Dream holding the key.

Suddenly, the box creaks and slams shut consuming him in darkness. He’s trapped. Without the gap his breathing grows quicker, hands shaking around his sword.

“Dream, get off that box.”

“Why? Is there something... important in it?”

“No, I just don’t want you breaking the damn thing.”

There’s a tingly feeling crawling up limbs like there are bugs under his skin. His chest feels heavy and he fists his shirt in his hands. He’s like an overstuffed doll. Forgotten and throw out. His throat feels thick as if someone forced a ball inside. It makes swallowing near impossible. His head won’t stop spinning. It won’t stop. Why? Why won’t it just stop?

“Hello, Ranboo,” Dream says. Ranboo doesn’t know how long he’s been here, how long it is between visits. He doesn’t know if he wants to know.

“...L’manburg won’t survive. It never will. Remember how Wil was? The last time L’Manburg went...well…” He mimics an explosion. “I wonder if Tubbo will be the same. He already seems unstable as it is. The pieces on the board are all set up, Phil.”

There are a pair of knives behind Ranboo’s eyes forcing him to stare in one direction. Unable to blink. His chest throbbing as though someone is grabbing it and shoving more and more stuffing inside him.

Dream’s nails slide down his arm, dull and savoring slow, goosebumps being left behind. “I just don’t understand you. I don’t understand why you won’t say it.” 

“Why does it matter?” Ranboo chokes out, and he’s crying without even really noticing, misery a quiet and constant background noise. “Why do you care? Why can’t you just leave me alone?” 

Dream chuckles, as though Ranboo has made a feeble joke and Dream is kind enough to humor him. “You know I can’t do that, Ranboo. I care about you. This world’s going to chew you up, you know? It’s going to turn you into little screaming pieces. That’s why I’m here. You. Need. Me.” He punctuates each word by digging the nails in further.

He’s floating, yet sinking all the same. Like his head is floating high and his knees down are being pulled closer to the core of the earth. It feels as though his body is like two inches to the right or left- like someone tore out pieces of him but never sewed him back into place. How long has he been here? How much longer must he stay here?

Ranboo thought he left the panic room behind. A voice laughs in the back of his mind.

“Ranboo…”

He slaps his hands over his ears.

“Raaaaanbooooo…”

Dream is right behind his ear.

“Come back to me, Ranboo.”

He can’t go back. If he’s caught, his recovery thus far will be for nothing. Phil will be in trouble. Technoblade will be in trouble.

“So what will you do, Ranboo? Are you going to play the martyr again?”

He stares at the sword. The gift. Stay safe, Technoblade had said. But Ranboo is useless, unlike Technoblade and Phil. Aren’t their lives worth more?

“They don’t care about you. They never have. You know this.”

If Ranboo dies then Dream won’t get what he wants. Being around only causes more problems. They’re just too nice to admit they’re tired of and want him gone. Ranboo knows. He knows .

He turns the blade on himself. Any moment now Dream will open the box and find him. He brings the sword closer. The little flash of pain brought on by the blade meeting his neck fill Ranboo with a sense of control. He’s already done enough trouble. It’ll just be easier-

“Ranboo, what the hell are you doing?!” Someone is trying to pull the sword out of his hands. No- no, he can’t. He can’t go back. He doesn’t notice how his eyes flash purple, how an ender-like screech tears free from his throat. The way his instincts kick in to attack to kill just like Dream taught him. That his friend taught him. “Ranboo- Ranboo stop-”

“I have to die, Phil!” Ranboo screams shoving his palms over his eyes to stop the tears. “Don’t you see?! I don’t even know who I am anymore! I- I’m a monster and a traitor and what says I won’t betray you guys? I know I can’t control myself- I know that’s all I am, but at least this I have control over! It's the right thing to do! It's the only thing I can do! I need to- I-”

The next thing Ranboo knows he’s being wrapped into a tight hug. A hand clutches the back of Ranboo’s head and Phil tucks his shoulder holding him close. “It’s okay to ask for help, Ranboo.”

And he doesn’t understand because why would he need help? He doesn’t deserve help. He’s been alone his entire life there’s no reason why that should change now? These are all such trivial things in the grand scheme of things.

So why is he crying?

Maybe it’s because in these past weeks he has touched something that has always been so out of grasp. He took a bite out of the apple and was graced with a life that could have been. A life where he could’ve been happy, never knowing the horrors the world held, something straight out of a child’s fairy tale.

“If you die then Dream’s won. Fight back by living . Prove everything he said was wrong,” Phil is whispering. Ranboo can’t tear his eyes away as hands cup his cheeks, grounding him, lost in their ocean blue depths. “You deserve good things, Ranboo. You deserve to live.”

The sword lays forgotten on the ground.

Chapter Text

On the fifth day, Technoblade came home.

Phil was showing Ranboo how to sew a patch in his cloak when he heard a familiar horse. Steve was already by the window pawing the trapdoors. A hand fell on his shoulder. “Go.”

His laughter, that of sunlight, bright and playful, follows Ranboo as he rushes out of the cabin. Pain shot through his limbs and his head pounds in time with his heart. Emotions he had not felt in years were flaring up, but he forced himself to keep upright and keep moving. The bandage around his neck itched, the cold bite at his skin, and Technoblade was back.

Ranboo couldn’t feel happier.

He almost loses footing as he turns a sharp corner. He comes face-to-face with the stables. Technoblade is there petting Carl’s muzzle carrying leather bags. When he hears Ranboo, he turns. All the words were caught in Ranboo’s throat. His tongue felt so heavy. 

“Hullo-” Technoblade’s greeting is cut short as his eyes fall to Ranboo’s neck. “Kid, what happened? Is everything-”

And before he could finish his question, Ranboo was rushing forward throwing his arms around the larger man. He’s caught off guard sending them both sprawling onto the snow, white puffs shot up into the air.

Ranboo holds him tight. He buries his face against Technoblade’s shoulder, fingers grasping onto his cloak. As if Dream would appear to remind him that this was all just a lie if he ever loosened his grip. As if he would be alone again. And then there were warm, familiar arms wrapping around him. A hand nestling in his curls cradling his head close as he feels Technoblade’s chest rise and fall.

“Welcome back,” Ranboo whispers, his tail wagging unrestrained, kicking up more snow, sheer relief flooding through his body. A purr tugs at his throat when fingers scratch his scalp. “I’m- welcome back, Techno…” The meaning behind his words is not lost on Techno.

He rests his chin atop Ranboo’s hair letting them stay there in the snow for a little longer. Ranboo wonders how long they could stay there without being interrupted. The sun on his back, the gentle chilly breeze blowing through his hair, warm arms around him. Then he feels Techno shift and presses a light kiss to his head, a fond sigh exhaling into the air.

“Missed you too, Ranboo.”

──────────

It has been a while since Ranboo began staying with Techno and Phil, yet Ranboo still hasn’t even gained the courage to tell them everything that had happened during his exile. Deep down he knew it was only fair that they deserved to know. But every time he got close to saying so, the words would get caught in his throat.

(“Lesson fifty-three; never fully trust anyone.”)

After Dream’s second visit and Techno returns from the mansion, Ranboo knew he couldn’t just sit idly by any longer. Ranboo knew what Dream was capable of. He had first-hand experience with how his words could affect someone. The Dream that carried a god complex on his shoulders and blew up a nation for fun and drove Phil’s son insane. Everyone on this server knew just how terrifying Dream could be and that, if not for Tommy posing a constant threat, he would have everyone under his thumb.

He couldn’t keep silent any longer.

But there was one thing Dream hadn’t accounted for.

Ranboo has always had a sleepwalking condition. He’d wake up in unfamiliar places or hear about how he’d be seen walking around at night. He just never thought anything of it. Everyone has weird habits, right? But that night after Ranboo’s suicide attempt, he forced himself to focus on the memories that had arisen during Dream’s visit. Half of the things that triggered him he hadn’t even remembered . And then it hit him.

The nights when he’d wake up ankle-deep in the ocean burning. The days he’d wake up in the forest covered in blood or by a fly swarmed rotting animal corpse. The gaps in his memories.

Dream had been controlling him. Not even in sleep was he safe.

So he came up with a plan.

It was stupid and reckless, and damaging to his already weakening mental state, but Ranboo began experimenting. He had to know. He had to help somehow. It started simple; curling up inside the box or turning off all the lights in his room. He’d write down anything he’d remembered and go on with his day. When that stopped working he began taking on extreme measures.

Water bottles were easy to obtain. Techno had been brewing more potions lately and there were always spare ones lying around. All Ranboo had to do was take a few then replace the bottles when no one was looking.

He wrote a book dedicated to everything he learned about his sleepwalking state. Ranboo began calling it the Enderwalk. He kept it hidden in his blanket nest where he knew Techno or Phil wouldn’t look. At night, he’d lock the trapdoor so he couldn’t leave in case he’d meet up with Dream secretly. He knew it was paranoia, but he couldn’t risk it. Not when he had people he cared about. A home he wanted to protect.

Some mornings Ranboo would wake up to his hands bruised and bloody from pounding on the door so much.

(“Lesson ninety-four; do not let them know what you have done.”)

Ranboo had to gain control over himself again. He would never be safe if there was still a part of him Dream had. Those thoughts alone are what powered him forward. And finally, after days of grueling experiments and sleepless nights, Ranboo finally discovered his answer.

The next step, however, was the hardest.

He learned that, through conditioning him in his Enderwalk, Dream made sure that he could never say what happened to him in exile. A failsafe in case he ever ran away. Maybe to make sure L’manburg never learned the truth. Ranboo doubts Tubbo would have ever exiled him if he knew what Dream had in store.

(“No he wouldn’t have,” a traitorous part of his mind whispers. “You were the perfect scapegoat.”)

But there is more than one way of communication.

All Ranboo had to do was write down what had happened to him. Word-for-word. No shortcuts. No matter how many pages it would take up in the end. Techno and Phil deserve to know, and Ranboo needs to make sure what happened to him doesn’t happen to anyone else. 

Sometimes he wonders what would’ve happened if he hadn’t taken the fall for Tommy. Would he have suffered the same fate? All Ranboo knows is that, if the roles were switched, he would have been for Tommy. Through thick and thin. His first friend.

The notebook is balanced against his legs as he settles down, having gone in blankie mode, tail draped over his lap so he can pet it to calm his nerves.

(“You deserve good things, Ranboo. You deserve to live.”)

He sucks in a deep breath.

The Lessons; a tale of exile

He flips open the cover and begins writing.

──────────

It’s the middle of the night when Ranboo emerges from his room. He waits until his eyes adjust before climbing out, book tucked under his arm, kicking the trapdoor shut with his foot. Ranboo climbs the ladder from the basement to the main floor being met with Phil by the stove and Techno peeling potatoes at the table. Any other day Ranboo would’ve offered to help cook dinner. He would have asked Techno about his trip to the mansion or asked for legendary stories of the past that were always exaggerated.

He sucks in a deep breath.

This is it. There is no backing out now.

“I was just about to send Techno down to get you,” Phil says as Ranboo walks up, a crow on the counter. “Dinner should be done soon so-”

“I-” Ranboo stands stiffly in the doorway. He hugs the book to his chest. “I...can’t say what happened. In my exile.” He swallows the lump in his throat. He can feel Dream’s shadow looming over him, but with each word, its presence grows weaker. “So I- I wrote it all down because I...I don’t want what happened to me to happen again and I…”

He manages to hold back a flinch as a chair scrapes against the floor. 

“We should probably move this to the living room,” Techno says. He doesn’t sound any different from normal. And when Ranboo gathers the courage to lift his eyes, he’s met with a soft pat on the head. Techno doesn’t say anything as Ranboo grabs his sleeve. Simply adjusting his arm so that Ranboo could hold his hand instead. Phil turns off the stove.

The three head into the living room and settle down on the couch. Ranboo sits between the two men, smiling when Steve comes over and plops his head onto his lap demanding attention. Silently, he hands over the book to Techno with shaking fingers. “Are you sure about this?”

He nods.

“We don’t have to read this while you’re here-”

“Read…please.”

Ranboo sucks in a shuddering breath as he hears Techno flip open the cover to the first page. He hadn’t even bothered to read over what he wrote. Once he began, it all came flowing out. Steve sticks his tongue out to lick Ranboo’s hand grounding him. He smiles a little. Maybe he should turn to Steve more often. He is an emotional support bear after all.

Then Techno begins reading out loud. Ranboo zones in and out of the conversation, focusing on petting Steve to avoid the memories that came flooding back.

“...made me eat raw meat rather than cooked…”

(“You don’t see other endermen eating cooked meat, do you?” Dream asks. He tosses the dead rabbit across the ground to where Ranboo kneels. It still has its fur. His stomach churns at the sight, the very thought of eating it off the ground causing bile to rise in his throat. It looks just like Ribbit. The fur is a shade darker, but does that make a difference? Dream knows the wound still stung. The pain is still too fresh. “What makes you any different? Humans are superior, and that’s why we eat it cooked. You aren’t human. You’re no better than an animal. So eat.”)

“...he’d drown me, repeatedly, when I wasn’t good-”

(He tries to breathe, but water rushes into his lungs and he coughs, trying to force it back out. Fresh waves of pain wrack his body at the effort. The unforgiving hand forcing his head into the bucket doesn’t let up. Something hard slams into his kneecaps forcing him back down and further inside. It burns. The water is beginning to turn a murky red from all the blood. He can’t feel his face any longer. Just when Ranboo thinks he’s about to die, he’s pulled out. A pink potion is forced into his mouth and down his throat and, once he’s healed, his head is slammed back into the bucket.)

“-he beat me when he was upset- kicked me when I was done and left me bleeding-”

(The punch went directly to his nose. As did the next, and the next, and the next, and when that wasn’t enough Dream began to kick him, over and over and over again. He was screaming things, mad that he had made another mistake, that he had stepped out of line again. He just endured it all each punch, each kick. There was nothing he could do. He laid there until he was beaten and broken. Until he could barely breathe. But he was never allowed to die.)

“He told me he was my friend and that it was all for my own good. He told me that I brought this all upon myself and that I was just being weak. He told me no one would want me…”

(Each touch felt like fire under his skin. Once, when he had been alone and desperate, it had felt nice. Now it feels like someone has placed thousands of nails along the bone. Ranboo wants nothing more than for Dream to stop touching him. For him to leave. To never return. But he doesn’t. He is always there with his sweet words and disappointed tuts and gloved hands that touch touch touch-)

“Ranboo,” Phil is speaking directly to him now, voice low and gentle, a hand carding through his hair. Ranboo blinks, lashes heavy with unfallen tears, forehead pressed against Steve’s head. “We’re done. It’s over.”

It’s over.

Ranboo squeezes his eyes shut. Steve whimpers softly and licks his face. He can feel someone- perhaps Techno- rubbing his back as Phil murmurs reassurances into his hair, a kiss pressed to his head. He did it. And now- now it’s over. It feels as though the chains that had been weighing him down for months had been shattered in one fell swoop.

He’s free.

He manages a relived laugh.

Chapter Text

Every once in a while the bees are released so they can stretch their wings and bathe under the sun.

There is a gentle buzz in the air, a sense of business that comes with such tiny creatures that gather around the scarce plants or linger by the hive. The bees are a vibrant yellow with dark bands that remind him of the cartoony doodles he’d draw as a boy. Their wings glimmer like the surface of an icy river, reflecting the bright sunlight, their buzzing just adding to the atmosphere. A few linger by Ranboo as he collects the honey.

(“I was thinking of building a bee farm here in L’manburg now that everything has calmed down,” Tubbo says. He was showing Ranboo around the nation properly considering his last tour had been rather scuffed. The president turns to smile at him over his shoulder. “Do you want to help? It’d be awesome to have someone taller helping out.”)

Ranboo his hand out, palm up, waiting as a fat bee settles down. Phil had given him gardening gloves so he wouldn’t ruin his usual pair. The bee buzzes gently as a pair of blue round eyes stare at him.

(Ranboo brightens up instantly at the prospect. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d love to!”)

It feels like it has been years since Ranboo came to this server. Just months ago he was full of hopes and dreams for his future. He had friends, a house, a place where, for the first time, could be himself. And it was all gone in just a matter of hours. Just how did it go so wrong? If George had just asked then Ranboo and Tommy would have returned his things. It was just a harmless prank. They never set the house on fire. They never meant any harm.

They were just kids.

He stares at the bee in his hand.

“I wish I was like you…” He mumbles. “Life is so much easier when all you gotta worry about is making honey, huh?”

The bees swarm as Ranboo guides them back into the hive, closing the trapdoor once they are all inside. He locks the hatch so they can’t escape. Funny. Even little insects have their prisons. He’s about to gather his basket off the snow and head inside when he sees something yellow and blue by the treeline.

“...Ghostbur?” Ranboo squints, a hand shielding his eyes from the bright sun. The boy is waving his arm wildly while his other hand clutches a leash attached to a blue wooled sheep. He takes off in a sprint kicking up snow as he goes. “What are you doing here-”

“Ranboo!” Ghostbur cries, wrapping his arms around Ranboo’s leg and hugging him. The sheep comes to his other side sniffing his hand. “It’s so good to see you! Oh, have you met Friend? Friend, this is Ranboo!” He lets go of Ranboo to wrap his arms around the sheep. He squishes their cheeks together, glasses skewered. “Say hello, Friend.”

The sheep baa’s.

“Um...hello, Friend,” Ranboo crouches. He awkwardly pats Friend’s head, the woolen tuft springy under his palm. Friend closes their black eyes and leans into his touch. “What are you doing here, Ghostbur?”

Ghostbur beams. There is a pair of wings on his back that hadn’t been then before. They flutter as he speaks, downy feathers glistening under the sun. “I brought a friend!” Ranboo pointedly looked at the sheep. “No, silly, not Friend! A friend!”

That’s when Ranboo hears it. A stick breaking in the distance. He lifts his head. Someone is poorly hiding behind a tree. A few seconds pass before they realize they’ve been caught and step out.

Ranboo’s breathing stops.

No. There’s no way this is real. Ranboo blinks and scrubs his eyes. The figure hasn’t disappeared. He hasn’t moved an inch, wearing a dark brown trench coat over his red and white shirt, breath rising in puffs, hair a golden beacon amongst the barren land. A hand cups over his mouth. The world doesn’t move. Ranboo takes a shaky step forward. His mouth struggles to form the words, to find his voice, hands trembling at his sides.

“...Tommy?”

And then he is running.

Ranboo trips over his feet, panting as the cold air squeezes his lungs constricting his breathing. Tommy has become a blur now as the two rush to close the distance. “Tommy!”

“-boo!” He hears him over the roaring wind and just the sound of his voice alone has Ranboo breaking out into a relieved smile. “Ranboo, you bastard , you absolute piece of-”

Tommy never finishes. Once close enough, he kicks off the ground and leaps into Ranboo’s arms. He immediately catches the shorter boy somehow managing to keep his balance. Tommy’s face is buried against his shoulder and his arms are wrapped so tightly around Ranboo as if holding him just wasn’t enough. In his embrace, the world stopped still on its axis. There was no time, no wind, no snow. Just Tommy and Ranboo. “I thought you died .”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“And you’ve just- you’ve been here !”

“I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t- I couldn’t- I saw the crater and I couldn’t believe you were dead but it’s been a month and-”

“I’m sorry-”

“Stop apologizing!” Cold hands slap his cheeks and yank Ranboo’s head back forcing him to hunch over and make eye contact. There are tears threatening to spill from Tommy’s eyes, lips pulled into an annoyed scowl. “You of all fucking people shouldn’t be apologizing! It’s- it’s my fucking fault you got into this mess anyway! I should’ve- I should’ve said something instead of just being quiet and letting you take the blame but I was...fuck, I was so scared , Ranboo. I thought- I thought Tubbo would understand but he- he hasn’t been the same, big man. L’manburg has changed so much and it’s-”

“Tommy,” a third voice cuts Tommy off. Immediately the hands fall from Ranboo’s face and Tommy unsheathes his sword. “Get away from him.”

“Technoblade,” Tommy grits through his teeth. On the porch, Ghostbur and Phil are anxiously watching the scene fall down, the latter holding the boy’s hand. Techno already has his pickaxe out and is glaring. “You fucking lied to me.”

“You just weren’t asking the right questions. You asked if I knew Ranboo and, at the time, I didn’t.” Techno snorts, spinning the pickaxe around in his hand. “What are you doing on my land, Tommy? Where’s the rest of your Butchers. ”

“I didn’t know what they were planning to do, Techno! They just said we’d talk-”

“You executed me!”

“I know that and I tried to stop them! But you betrayed us, Technoblade-”

“That does not justify killing me with an anvil and torturing Phil!” Techno snaps. His words have Tommy falling silent. The teen’s gaze slowly turned to the porch where Phil stood. Thousands of emotions flicker across his face before settling on one; horror. “You have three seconds to get off my land and away from my family, Tommy, before I drive this pickaxe through your head.”

He has to stop this before it can escalate, but what can he do? Tommy could be lying. He’s with L’manburg and that makes him the enemy. But he was also Ranboo’s first friend and the only one who reached out to him during his exile. Techno takes a step back preparing to attack. Tommy tightens his grip on his sword.

Ranboo stays frozen in place.

“Stop!” Ghostbur cries out. He grips Techno’s free hand squeezing to get his attention. “No fighting, please, I don't like it when you fight, because it's scary, and- and you could get hurt- here, have some blue instead, it'll make the fighting feelings all go away!"

“Ghostbur…” All the fight in Tommy has seeped away, staring at the boy with an unreadable expression.

(“Yeah, Wilbur was like a brother to me. You know, before he went crazy ‘n’ all that,” Tommy says, kicking a rock along the prime path. Ranboo hums just letting the teen ramble. “I never had a brother, but if I did I like to think that’s what it would’ve been like. When he found out Tubbo and I lied about our ages to get drafted into the war, he clopped us over the head and grounded us for a week. I was really pissed off about it at the time but...now I know he was just trying to look out for us. I...I really miss him.”)

Techno crouches down so he’s eye level with Ghostbur. Ghostbur puffs his cheeks out trying to look mad. Eventually, the man just sighs and takes the blue. “Sorry, Ghostbur. We won’t fight. I promise. You should go inside with Phil- the snow isn’t good for you.” He ruffles the boy’s curls earning a giggle.

“Okay! Dad said we can stay for dinner! Woo, big brother Techno’s cooking!” Ghostbur is off to the cabin. Techno throws a glare toward the porch where Phil gives a two-fingered wave, poorly hiding back his smirk.

“So…” Tommy begins awkwardly. He kicks his foot in the snow. “Uh...look, I know we aren’t...on the greatest terms…”

“That’s putting it lightly.”

“Fuck you! You know what, fine!” In a flurry of movement, Tommy throws down a set of enchanted netherite armor on the snow. “Here! Take your stupid armor. That’s why I’m here, alright?”

Techno seems genuinely taken off guard. Ranboo blinks then rests his hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “Hey, you should at least stay for dinner. You can stay in my room. It gets really cold at night.”

Tommy glares at Techno who has scooped the armor up and waved it into his inventory. The man is pointedly looking away, his ear flicking at the awkward tension. Eventually, Ranboo hears Tommy exhale heavily through his nose. “...fine.”

──────────

Ranboo has never had a family dinner before. When he was younger he would always imagine what it’d be like. While the other orphans would chase each other with wooden swords Ranboo would be sat by a rock surrounded by sticks playing pretend family. Looking back on it now it was a rather sad period of his life, but as a child, it was how he got through the day. He’d imagine siblings and parents that loved him and a dinner that wasn’t just a loaf of stale bread.

It turns out that a real family dinner is not all sunshine and rainbows.

“Techno’s cooking is always the best,” Ghostbur tells Ranboo, sitting on a book so he can reach the table. His legs swing back and forth. Friend is curled up beside his chair taking a nap. Ranboo stares into his mushroom soup stirring his spoon around in the dark broth. The tension in the air is so thick one could cut it with a knife. Tommy and Techno sit on completely opposite sides of the table. They have been glaring at each other the entire time it took them to make dinner. “Do you like his cooking?”

“Um yeah. Yeah, I do,” Ranboo nods, glancing between the two. He wishes there was a way for everyone to be happy, but there is too much bad blood in the water. He doubts they could ever be on good terms with each other. That open wound will always linger.

“Dad!” The boy chirps catching his father’s attention. Suddenly his expression turns sad and before Ranboo can try salvaging what little peace they had, he speaks. “What happened to your wings?”

The tension thickens. Someone’s spoon clatters against the table. Phil clears his throat and he folds his hands on the table. “Did you preen them wrong? Will they grow back? Will we be able to go flying together again?”

“Ghostbur…” he tries to stop the questions that come tumbling out but it’s too late. The damage has been done.

“I lost my wings but...not in the way you’re thinking, Wil,” Phil begins in a soft voice. There’s a sad smile on his face. “I can’t fly.”

“Why?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.” The boy pouts and sits back with a huff. “Enough about that-”

“It was Quackity, wasn’t it?” Tommy’s voice comes out low and slow as if choosing his words carefully. Phil doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. Ranboo watches Tommy’s head drop into his hands, fingers tugging at his hair. “Shit... shit .”

“There wasn’t anything you could do, Tommy,” the older man tries but it’s not enough.

“I’m the fucking vice president! Of course there was something I could do! But they- I didn’t even know- I just thought you were under house arrest! When did they- how-” then everything comes to a halt. “...did Tubbo know..?”

Phil hangs his head. “Who do you think approved of my arrest.”

It’s not a question. It’s a statement.

Tommy’s chair scrapes against the floor. His hands slam against the table. “You’re lying!”

“When will you stop and actually look at what’s happening around you?!” Techno snaps, quick to Phil’s defense. Under the table, Ghostbur squeezes Ranboo’s hand. The boy glances at him. There was no stopping them this time. “The government-”

“That is not the problem here!”

“Is it not? Your government has been the reason behind all of our suffering! They exiled Ranboo, they executed me, tortured Phil- do you really think they’re still the good guys?”

“Tubbo wouldn’t do this!”

“Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn’t! That’s not the point here, Tommy! The point is that L’manburg needs to go! They’ve done enough damage as is,” Techno narrows his eyes. “If you came here thinking we were just going to sit idly by then you were wrong.”

Tommy glances between Techno and Phil. When he sees that they are serious he turns to Ranboo. Ranboo slumps back into his chair, avoiding meeting Tommy’s gaze. “...Ranboo? You too?”

“I…” He swallows, wishing he wouldn’t have to be put on the spot. His fight is against Dream not L’manburg itself. But with all the damage L’manburg has done, he agrees with Techno. Something has to be done. He just doesn’t know if he can say it out loud. If he can potentially ruin the tie with his only friend. “I’m going to bed. Thank you for dinner.” His chair scrapes as he abruptly stands. Ghostbur is saying something, most likely trying to get Ranboo to stay, but he has already turned to leave.

──────────

He doesn’t move from his spot when he hears the trapdoor lift. Ranboo pointedly keeps his eyes on his book, trying to ignore the hesitant footsteps.

“Ranboo…” Tommy sits down beside him. Ranboo moves his tail out of the way. “I didn’t...that could’ve gone better.” Ranboo hums. “Really? Silent treatment? Isn’t that a little stupid?”

“I’m in blankie mode,” Ranboo mumbles. He tugs the blanket over his head more as emphasis. “And when I’m in blankie mode that means no one can lie to me.”

Tommy falls silent. After a moment, Ranboo lifts his blanket as a silent invitation. He hears clothes shuffle until a warm weight is pressed against his side, Tommy’s head resting on his shoulder. “I know why you didn’t speak up during the trial,” he feels the teen tenses but pushes on. “It’s because you were afraid to pick someone’s side that wasn’t Tubbo’s. And I don’t blame you. We barely knew each other, and you didn’t know what was going to happen.”

“I…”

“I just don’t understand why everybody cares so much about sides,” he presses his palms against his eyes. “But, Tommy, my friendship with Techno and Phil doesn’t mean I’m on their side. And being friends doesn’t mean I’m on your side either. I’m on no one’s side. That’s why I took the blame, Tommy. Not because I thought it was the right thing to do. Because I’m your friend. And I wanted to help you.”

“I was being selfish,” Tommy mumbles, and Ranboo has never heard him sound so vulnerable. It’s like the walls and the facade he always wears had been left behind when he entered. He’s no longer the self-proclaimed hero or war sung warrior. He’s just another teenager. “I should’ve said something. I-”

“You’re anything but selfish, Tommy.” He interrupts him gently. Tommy doesn’t pull away when Ranboo grips his hand, intertwining their fingers. “I was scared, yeah. I think anyone would be in my position. For a while, I thought it was just peer pressure, but I had a lot of time to think in exile. If given the choice again, I don’t think I would have changed my mind.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Tommy confesses quietly. “Everything is just...it’s all so much. Wilbur is gone and now Tubbo...he’s been so distant lately, Ranboo. He’s different. He’s been turning to Dream for advice, and sometimes it feels like Dream is more of the vice president than I am.”

“What…” It’s a stupid plan. An incredibly stupid plan. But it’s the only plan Ranboo can think of. “What if I try to talk to him?”

“What? How?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I can ask Techno if he can sneak me into L’manburg. I just...I think if I can talk to Tubbo one on one then maybe he’ll listen. There’s...some stuff that you don’t know.” Ranboo can’t show Tommy the book. Not now. He’ll just end up blaming himself more. “Just trust me.”

Tommy sighs then slump against Ranboo’s side once more, blonde bangs falling over his eyes. “Alright, big man. I trust you. What’re you reading?”

“It’s a book of greek mythologies Techno let me borrow. I’m currently on the tale of Atlas and how he carried the whole world on his shoulders.”

“Sounds stupid,” Tommy snorts. Ranboo fondly rolls his eyes letting his tail rest over his lap and getting comfortable. After a moment he hears Tommy speak again, voice muffled by the blanket. “Read it to me.”

So Ranboo reads until the two fall asleep on each other.

Chapter Text

A day after Tommy and Ghostbur depart for L’manburg, Techno calls Ranboo over after breakfast.

“Ranboo,” he hooks three awkward potions in the brewing stand. Techno leans over to grab the other ingredients only to be surprised when he sees them in Ranboo’s outstretched hands, waiting for him to continue. “You probably should dress warmly for this. We’re gonna be out all day.”

“What are we doing?” Ranboo watches the blaze-fueled flame be turned on heating the glass bottles. He’ll never understand the intricacies of potion brewing, but the process is still fascinating.

“Well, if we’re gonna take down L’manburg we’re gonna need an army. Thing is we can’t exactly get manpower on the server considering I’m...retired.”

“Just say you’re a war criminal!” Phil calls from the kitchen. Ranboo stifles a laugh behind his hand.

“I’m thinking we build a hound army,” Techno continues ignoring Phil’s interjection. “And to do so we need to find some dogs. But before that, there’s something I need to show you.”

It doesn’t take Ranboo long to get dressed and come back upstairs to find Techno waiting for him by the front door. After waving his goodbyes to Phil, he follows the man out the door and through the snow toward the mountains. “So...the truth is, Ranboo, I’ve been working on just a...just a little hobby. ”

Ranboo is led to a flat mountainside overlooking the snow-coated land. A shoulder nudges him to a spot. “I need you to stand right here. Now...” Techno brushes a hand over the rocks revealing a hidden button. All it takes is a little applied pressure.

The ground beneath Ranboo shakes and snow begins tumbling off the mountain. He stumbles back watching in shock and awe as the wall begins to lift up revealing a hidden base in the mountainside. There are at least three stacks of wither skulls lining the walls and double chests filling up the extra space. In the far back is a single armor stand decorated in enchanted netherite armor.

“Oh…” Ranboo blinks. This is real. How in the world had Techno even collected all these skulls? The man was never gone for more than a couple of days at most, so how did he find the time? “Oh shoot...oh wow...I...wow…yeah...yeah, gosh, L’manburg is screwed.”

“We’re going to do so much violence,” Techno laughs from deep in his chest. He walks into the bunker with a swish of his cape, a hand running over the skulls. “And they thought two withers were bad. All we need is my weapons and an army.”

“This is…” Months ago Ranboo would have been screaming. Maybe turning tail and running for the hills. But he could never be afraid of Techno. “Did you get all this yourself?” Techno hums. His form of a yes. “Are you ok? Did you get hurt getting this? You’re really bad about telling us when you’re hurt.” He takes a step forward crossing the threshold into the bunker.

“You know, when most people see about three stacks of wither skulls, they usually panic not ask if I’m okay,” he teases lightly. Ranboo rolls his eyes, looking over the skulls. He had never seen one in person. Withers were rare, and one of the most dangerous mobs that had been discovered. Thankfully they had to be summoned so finding them in the wild was practically impossible.

And then there is a hand on Ranboo’s shoulder and he turns to find Techno smiling down at him. “Welcome home, Atlas.”

Home. Ranboo has a home. Techno’s house had felt more like a home than L’manburg or the campsite ever was. Maybe that’s a good thing.

“Here, Ranboo, take this armor.” At Techno’s voice, Ranboo turns. He gestures to the armor stand. “It’s my spare set, and now that I got my armor back I don’t need it.”

“I...are you sure?” Ranboo runs his hand over the smooth plating. His breath hitches. “Techno, it’s maxed armor. I can’t take this-”

“Sure you can. Phil can help adjust the straps so it’ll fit,” he pulls the helmet off holding it out to Ranboo. His reflection shines off the dark purple surface. Orange hues dance off the metal from the lanterns highlighting where the gold and netherite had been blended together. “You can leave the armor here- we can bring it inside once we get back. I wanna see about finding the dogs before nightfall.”

Ranboo carefully lays the helmet back onto the armor. His armor. He runs his hand over the chest plate one last time before following Techno out of the bunker.

──────────

It turns out that finding wolves is a lot harder than either Techno or Ranboo thought it would be.

“Bro, where are all the dogs at?” Techno asks rhetorically pushing aside a few branches. Ranboo is close behind carefully navigating through the overgrown roots. “At this rate, we’ll be exploring the entire island and back before finding one.”

“I’m sure they’re somewhere. They usually live in forests, right?” Ranboo glances around.

“Chat’s saying so yeah. I’d make a polar bear army but Steve is an exception. I’m pretty sure if I tried taming any other polar bear they’d maul my face off.”

“I- I know of another forest.” He stops walking abruptly. “I...remember hearing wolves there. Maybe they were staying there because it was warmer.”

“Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Techno turns, mouth open to say something else, but Ranboo’s stiff shoulders and hanging head have him pausing. “You good there?”

Ranboo straightens and forces on a smile. “Yeah. Yeah, all good here! I’ll show you where to go- we shouldn’t be too far.” Before Techno can have a chance to interject, Ranboo is stepping past and continuing through the forest. After a few moments, he hears footsteps as Techno follows. With each step, another stab of fear pierces through his heart.

“I knew you would always come back to me,” Dream’s voice whispers in his ear. Ranboo’s hands curl into fists. He thought he got rid of it. He thought it’d stop. “It always leads back to me.”

And the worst part is that it’s true. That no matter how much Ranboo recovers or moves on there will always be that part of him that remembers. He’ll stay up at night wondering whether his time with Dream truly was so bad or if those nights when they’d have long conversations and bond were all just a lie. Another mask.

(“You know, you’re my only friend too, Ranboo,” Dream admits quietly. He tips his head back and sighs, Ranboo pointedly staring at the ground. “We’re the only ones that understand each other. We’ve both been betrayed, and the friends we thought we could trust turned their backs on us. I only wanted the best for George and Sapnap. I’d have done anything for them. It just makes me wonder…” He turns and Ranboo tenses as a smiley face flashes before his eyes. “How much are you willing to go through for your friends?”)

Ranboo stops walking.

“We’re here.”

It’s just as horrible as Ranboo remembers. Some grass now growing in the crater where his tent and farm had been, tiny green sprouts peeking out of the disturbed earth making way for new life. There are portions where the earth was too scarred by the explosion. Ranboo can still smell the gunpowder in the air. It’s heavy and overwhelms his senses. Techno is saying something, but he can’t hear him over the ringing in his ears.

(“Why hasn’t anyone visited?” Dream turns and Ranboo wrings his hands together anxiously. He hears the man chuckle before a gloved hand reaches out to ruffle his overgrown hair, a fond tone in his voice when he speaks. “That’s because everyone forgot about you, Ranboo. But don’t worry. I’ll always be here for you. That’s what friends are for, right? Now, did you want to borrow my pickaxe and go mining?”)

His legs are moving on their own. The dew speckled grass is cold under his paws as he walks toward the campsite. It all feels so familiar yet new at the same time. Maybe it’s because he’s seeing everything in a new light- for what it’s truly worth. The land itself isn’t all too bad. Under any other circumstances, it would have made a nice retirement home.

(“I heard you like flowers!” Dream’s voice is cheery as he greets Ranboo at the tent’s entrance. In his arms is a bouquet of flowers ranging from all different types. “You could try planting them around here. It might liven up the place! Come on, I’ll even help. You can’t stay in bed forever, Ranboo. Can’t have you dying on me!”)

The flowers that have survived have been in better conditions. The leaves were curled in an unhealthy way and the stems hanging over struggling to carry the weight any longer. Weeds have begun to take over polluting the soil stopping any more flowers from growing.

It’s ironic how the only ones that survived were red dahlias.

(“Ranboo…”)

Eventually, he comes to a stop.

(“You wouldn’t betray me, would you?”)

His hands shake as they brush dirt and dust off the trapdoor. The hinges have rusted over from the rain and creak as he lifts it up.

(“I only want what’s best for you. I’m just trying to help you. But in return, you have to help me.”)

There is no light but Ranboo doesn’t need it. His body has remembered every inch of this room. He climbs down the ladder one rung at a time, the obsidian walls soon coming to surround him.

(“But for you to help me, you have to be on my side.”)

Ranboo tugs off his gloves throwing them to the ground.

(“There’s something I need you to do for me, Ranboo. You just aren’t ready yet.”)

He wedges his fingers into the gaps ignoring how the jagged edges dig into his skin, gripping onto the chunk of loose obsidian.

(“I wonder if there’s a way to send you into your sleepwalking state on command...maybe like a trigger word. Or...perhaps...I’ve only tried this once before but there’s no harm in trying.”)

He flings the block of obsidian away listening to it clatter and skid across the ground. In the gap is a single chest.

(“It worked…it actually worked! Now...now all I have to do is condition you to listen to me when you see my mask. Good news is that, well, smiley faces have always been my brand.”)

The chest thumps against the ground. He tugs on the lock finding that it was loose. Someone had opened this chest before him.

(“My plan was, Ranboo, was to get Tommy exiled. He wants to play hero, but no hero gets anywhere without turmoil. He’s just too fun not to toy with. But you ruined all that for. And then it hit me…”)

Ranboo slowly lifts the lid.

(“Every god needs its apostles. Someone who will serve me and won’t betray me under any circumstance. It’s a stroke of luck, really, that the one with an already fraying mental state just happened to fall into my hands.”)

No.

Ranboo kicks the chest away and scrambles to get as far away as possible. His back slams against the wall. Shakily, he lifts his hands to grip his face, peering through the cracks to stare at the chest that has fallen over.

(“I’m sure we’ll have a great time here in exile, Ranboo.”)

A single piece of paper lays on the obsidian floor. A message. A warning.

:)

Ranboo whimpers pressing himself into the corner. What was he thinking? He’d never be free. Not while Dream is still around. The strings are tightening around his neck and above him, the puppeteer prepares for the final stage.

A growl rises from his throat.

⪼“No. No no no no, not now-” Ranboo chokes on a sob. It’s happening again. He knows this feeling too well from the experiments. The ache in his bones. The pounding in his head. Too breathless with pain to even cry out, Ranboo’s knees buckled and he hit the ground. “Not now!” He growls, thrashing his head around, trying to regain control over his mind. It was all too much.

If he enters his Enderwalk now all of it will be for nothing. He’ll just end up playing right into Dream’s hands. His blood pounds in his ears. From the smooth surface of the obsidian, Ranboo sees his reflection. His vibrant purple eyes and unhinged jaw stuck in a silent scream. His throat felt raw, whimpers turning to whines like a kicked dog. 

“Please make it stop, anyone- make it stop- please please please-” his skin itches as if thousands of bugs were running underneath the surface and he tears at his clothes, at his hair, anything that would make the feeling stop.

Then he hears his bones snap.

He felt every bone rearrange itself underneath his skin, muscles rippling in sheer pain, blood splattering onto the ground. From from crumpled angle, Ranboo could see broken bones sticking out of his body, skin, and muscles healing at rapid rates to encase them once again, steadily increasing in size as his body gave way to his enderman genes.

He needs help.

He needs- he needs-⪻

“Tech no!” His voice cuts off into a garbled scream at the last syllable that echoes through the panic room and out the small hole. Ranboo slams his forehead against the floor and his fingers slip against the smooth surface. Fangs cut into his lip as he struggles to maintain control.

So lost in the pain and his head, Ranboo doesn’t realize someone has entered the room until there are hands on his shoulders, a voice managing to reach him.

“-gone off on your own, Ranboo. Shit, what’s happening- I can see that, you guys! You aren’t being very helpful right now- I’m not gonna leave him-”

“H-H ur ts-” Ranboo clings onto Techno as he’s forced to sit up, crying out as his spine snaps into place. “H-He lp ple as e-”

“I’m trying to but I don’t know what-” he can barely focus on the words that are being said. There’s too much happening.

Something heavy is placed on his head.

And, just as suddenly as it began, it’s over. Ranboo jerks weakly in the arms holding him, breaths coming in too short and quick and the edges of his vision were fuzzy. “-having a panic attack, I need you to focus on my breathing. We’re gonna count to ten, alright?”

“O-Okay...” A hand guides his to rest against a broad chest. A steady heartbeat.

“Nothing else matters right now. One...say it with me"

“One..." 

"Good. Two..." With each number Ranboo feels himself calm down, focusing on the heartbeat and the comforting voice in his ear. When it’s finally over he feels Techno slump. “Nearly gave me a heart attack, kid.”

“Enderwalk…” Ranboo mumbles quietly. “How...stopped..?”

“I gave you my crown.” So that’s why his head feels heavy. Ranboo drags his eyes up and can see something gold hanging over his forehead. “I didn’t know if it’d work, but it helps control my curse and keep my body from, well, yeah. What is this place?”

“Panic room…” He feels Techno tense up.

“Like...from your book.” He nods. “Right. Okay, I’m gonna carry you out. Keep your arms around my neck and keep focusing on my heartbeat.”

“...Dream knows,” Ranboo mumbles as they ascend the ladder. “He...left a note. He knows. He knows, Techno, he- he’s going to take me back he- he wants to control me wants me to hurt people want- I don’t- I can’t-”

He’s shushed gently and sat down on the grass. Techno closes the trapdoor before returning to his side. “Hey, listen to me kid. Phil and I aren’t letting him take you. Not in a million years. You’re safe with us.” A hand reaches out to adjust the crown on his head. “I found a couple of wolves so we’re good to go. You good to stand?”

“I...I think so, yeah…” Despite this, Techno keeps an arm around Ranboo to help balance him as he stands. “When we get home…” Ranboo starts, following Techno away from the campsite. “Don’t tell Phil. I- I don’t want him to worry.”

“...alright, I won’t.”

“And...thank you. For coming.”

“Anytime, Ranboo.”

Chapter Text

“There’s no really good way of explaining this if I’m completely honest.”

The dire wolf at Ranboo’s side nudges his hand demanding more pets. The teen begins scratching the top of Max’s head absentmindedly. His attention is solely focused on Techno who was looking forward.

“I hear countless voices in my head. All the time. I kinda figured you knew that, though, since you never asked me about it.” Techno side-eyes Ranboo who straightens.

“Of course I do. I used to watch your old Hypixel vods to analyze your combat and it wasn’t all too hard to pick out. And when I was living in your basement I noticed you always talked to yourself.” Ranboo rambles. He realizes his mistake too late.

“You watched my Hypixel games?” There’s a teasing undertone to his voice. Ranboo’s ears flush in embarrassment and he pointedly looks the other way.

“I mean, well, you’re Technoblade! You were my idol as a kid- I wanted to be just like you,” he rubs the back of his neck. “For a while, some people even started calling me Discount Technoblade.”

“Right…” He chuckles. Ranboo is just glad he doesn’t question him further. “Anyway, the uh. Yeah, the voices are crazy. Uh- Sometimes, they're angry, sometimes they're sad. Uh, sometimes they mock me. Usually, though they just bother me. There are a few times they can be useful like how they told us where Phil was. But the thing about the voices- the one thing they- the one thing I hear from them the most...the voices demand blood, Ranboo. They demand blood.”

Techno’s entire demeanor has gone serious. Ranboo scratches behind Max’s ear and chooses his words carefully. “Is that...a part of the curse?”

“Dunno. All I know is that the crown helps...calm them.” He pauses to swing his sword and cut down the branches in their way. “It also keeps me from turning into a giant, bloodthirsty pig.”

“I’m sorry- what?”

“The crown stops that from happening,” Techno doesn’t explain further. Almost as if he’s avoiding the subject. Ranboo can’t help wanting to know more. “So when I saw...whatever was happening back there, I just- I thought ‘well if it works for me then might as well give it a shot.’”

“Then do you need the crown back?” His hand lifts to remove the crown.

“Nah, I’m fine. We can just keep swapping back and forth until I can make you your own. It’ll take a while ‘cause the runes are old and I’d have to find the enchantments again.”

“I don’t need a crown-” at Techno’s pointed look, Ranboo gives in. “It’s just- you’ve given me so much already. I feel like I need to repay you somehow.”

“You don’t have to prove your worth to me, Ranboo. You do enough by helping out. I doubt the place would be as clean as it is without you around.”

“I still don’t understand how it gets messy so fast…” Ranboo concedes quietly. He sighs, smiling when Max licks his hand. “Did you tell Phil about the hound army?”

Techno stops walking abruptly. “...Techno?”

“I knew there was something I forgot.”

──────────

Oddly enough, Ranboo has never been inside the attic. There has been no reason to until now. The attic is quiet. Ranboo likes it. It helps him feel at ease surrounded by gentle hues, soft blues, greys, and browns. 

“This is where I do all my enchanting,” Techno explains, shutting the trapdoor behind him. The roof arches like a crescent, the bookshelves built into the walls, as if the room was designed one feature at a time, each idea feeding off the last until it all was tied together. Sat in the center is an obsidian box with diamond-encrusted corners and a red blanket neatly draped across. There is a singular floating book that, whenever Ranboo gets close, flips open. He can feel the magic in the room.

They stay up there sorting through books until Phil calls them down to eat, Ranboo’s head feeling like it would split in two with how many words he read. But the two were too stubborn to give up, and soon found the necessary enchantments.

“Just try ‘n’ stay still,” he murmurs. Ranboo nods. Techno narrows his eyes causing him to smile sheepishly.

“Sorry. Sorry, staying still from here out. No movement. Nope. None. Just gonna sit perfectly still. Yup.” If Ranboo was, to be honest, he was terrified out of his mind. This was ancient magic, and Techno had admitted he’d never done this before. Phil had given him his crown. There’s a possibility this will be all for not.

Techno sucks in a sharp breath. His hands come to hover over both sides of Ranboo’s head. A minute passes and nothing happens. Ranboo does his best to stay still, but as time passes, he’s beginning to lose hope. “What-”

And then something happens.

There is a tug on Ranboo’s soul. He watches as he reaches into a tear in the fabric of space and hundreds of colors flash before his eyes. Red and green, blue and black, silver and gold. “What is that?”

“Your soul,” Techno says, soft and far away. “It’s- it’s a mess, kid. Stress lines all over it. I can see why- you’ve been through a lot. Surprised it's holding together.”

“Am I gonna die?” He hears Techno snort.

“No, Ranboo, you aren’t gonna die. It just means you’re healing. Means you need time,” a hand rests against the side of his head and the other comes to grip his shoulder steadying him. The colors swirl again and warmth blooms throughout Ranboo’s chest. Techno reaches into his soul, wrist-deep, before pulling his arm back. What follows is a crown made of pure starlight.

On both sides of the circlet are flowers made of light with a ruby and jade center. Finger brush against his temple as Techno places the circlet atop his head. It fits perfectly. Ranboo inhales, and the world seems brighter. Clearer. When the colors recede back into the depths whence they came, Techno is there, lips pulled back in a thoughtful line.

“You alright?” Unable to find his words, Ranboo nods. “Good. Good…”

“Do you think Phil will feel left out because he doesn’t have a crown?” He finds himself asking. Techno blinks, once, twice, before chuckling.

“Probably.”

“I can make him a paper crown.”

“I’m sure he’d love that, kid.”

──────────

Ranboo is horrible at building. Phil, however, was born to build. When he saw the hounds he made it clear then that they were to build a dog house to house them in. That night he sketched up a design with the proper amount of materials and proportions and got to work.

“A little more to the right, Ranboo!” Phil calls, gesturing with his hand. Ranboo carries the spruce planks and balances across the beam until he’s where Phil wants him. He takes his hammer careful not to hurt himself. “Great! We should be able to get the roof done in a few hours, and then we just have to string up the fences.” Rolling around in the snow beside him are a couple of wolf pups.

The wood Ranboo is working with had been sanded down until it was as smooth as glass, designs carved along the length adding more personal charm to each piece. It would all be hidden away underneath the snow, but that wasn’t the point. “If you want, Ranboo, I can help you build your own house.”

“Really?” Ranboo sits up straight. “I’d…” Not once had the thought to move out crossed his mind. It made sense, though. He couldn’t live in a hole forever. “I’d like that a lot!”

“You’d still come over dinner, of course. But having your own space is good! I was thinking we could build it into the mountainside that way you aren’t that far,” Phil says hammering a nail into the post. “I’m planning on building a house here as well. It’s a bit cramped with all of us living in one place.”

“Yeah…” He chuckles and rubs his neck. “But I like it...it’s nice…almost...”

“Domestic.” He finishes for him. There’s an understanding tone in his voice. “Reminds me of when Wil was growing up.”

“Did you live in a cabin?”

“Yeah, and we had a garden. A nice big one. Grew our own crops and when Techno visited he’d help with the harvest,” as much as he tries, Ranboo can’t imagine it. A life where there is no pain. No Dream. Just living life carefree and one day at a time. “When it gets warmer, I’m going to see about making a garden out here. There’s plenty of crops that’ll survive through the cold.”

Ranboo perks up, placing another plank. “It’ll be better than having to make trips to the village.”

“Exactly-” Phil cuts off mid-sentence. Ranboo waits, but he never finishes. 

“Phil? You alright?” No response. He frowns. Quickly, Ranboo finishes the roof’s base and climbs down, paws bracing against the snow. “I mean, visiting the village isn’t all that bad! I think I’ll be comfortable enough to tag along soon. It’ll be nice, you know? And-”

It all comes to a grinding stop.

Phil is laying face down in the snow, unmoving.

“...Phil?” Ranboo shakily steps forward. “P-Phil?” And then it hits him. “Shoot, Phil! Phil, get up! What’s wrong? Are- are your injuries acting up? Did you overwork yourself-” the man wheezes as Ranboo lifts him from the snow. “Are- are you having a heart attack? Do you smell toast?”

“I’m not having a heart attack,” Phil wheezes into Ranboo’s shoulder. “Just- fuck- head’s dizzy. Back hurts. Been gettin’ a lot of phantom pain lately.”

“Sh- should I call Techno?”

“No, I’ll be fine-” he keels over and grips Ranboo’s arms tighter. As he hunches over it gives the teen view of his back.

“Um...Phil? Is- is it normal for black liquid to come out of your back?”

Phil doesn’t even seem the least bit concerned. He just shrugs slightly. “Don’t think so, mate.” 

“Okay- okay, stay here. Don’t move. I’m gonna grab Techno. I’m just- I’ll just put you here.” Ranboo gently props Phil against one of the wooden posts. “Don’t move.”

“Moving kinda makes it worse.” Phil mumbles, stifling another cry of pain. 

Ranboo scrambles to sprint up the porch steps throwing the front door wide open. The action only manages to startle Techno who was on the couch reading with Steve. “Are you trying to break the door?”

“Techno-” it’s getting hard to breathe. He grips the edges of his shirt. “It’s my fault- I- something happened and I don’t- I’m sorry, I broke him- I knew old people were fragile I just-”

Techno is on his feet in an instant. He grabs his sword and shoulders past Ranboo. “What happened?”

“I don’t know! He just- oh god, I think he’s dying. I don’t want Phil to die. I like Phil.” Ranboo follows Techno to the dog house where Phil has, thankfully, not moved. A crow is now sitting beside him. He barely reacts when the man kneels beside him.

“Phil, what’s wrong-” Techno stops himself when he sees the black spots on the snow. “...what? Okay, this is fine. We need to…”

Ranboo zones out as the two speak. He focuses on calming his nerves down. One of the pups whine by his foot and Ranboo scoops it into his arms, scratching behind the small ears. The crow by Phil is watching with dull red eyes, but it suddenly turns and faces Ranboo. Almost as if it had known he was staring. There is something different about this crow from the others.

A pained cry has Ranboo breaking eye contact. Phil is on his elbows and knees in the snow while the back of his shirt torn open. His entire back is covered in strange black liquid. The wind picks up. He convulses and an unholy scream rips from his throat. Clouds seem to be rolling over the sky.

“Getting wings is a painful process,” an unfamiliar voice says. Ranboo spins around coming face-to-face with a woman. She’s in a tight black dress not suited for the cold weather. She has dark hair that reaches her mid-back, a wide-brimmed black sunhat with a veil that hides her face from view. There are silver moons engraved along the veil adding to the charm. Her hat almost compliments the bucket hat Phil was insistent on always wearing. Everything about her says elegance, but the air would her seems colder. More so than normal. “Hello. We haven’t had the chance to meet properly.”

“Who are you..?” Ranboo doesn’t know how he has the courage to speak. The woman seems unphased by his fear. She comes to stand by his side. Neither Techno nor Phil seems to see her. “How do you know Phil? What are you doing to him?”

“You have a lot of questions,” she chuckles. “But we don’t have enough time to answer them all. I’m only here temporarily.”

“...right.” He swallows away the lump in his throat. “Is-” he has to choose his question carefully. “Are you here to hurt or help?” Ranboo unconsciously materializes his sword, a feeling of protectiveness washing over him. “Because I won’t let you hurt him. So I really hope it’s the latter.”

The woman seems to pause at this. Then she lifts his head and, through the veil, Ranboo sees crimson painted lips curl into a fond smile.

“I can see now why he’s asked me to help,” she says. “To answer your question, I have no reason to hurt him.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m his wife.”

Another scream catches Ranboo’s attention. He turns just in time to witness a pair of pitch-black wings emerge from Phil’s back, large shadows cast across the snow, made of the void itself. Where there should be feathers or scales is the strange liquid that has confined itself into the borders of the wings. Phil is panting, Techno helping him to his feet, but otherwise seems unharmed.

“What do you mean-” 

The woman is gone. In her place is the red-eyed crow from before. It flaps its wings a few times before gliding over to Phil, settling onto his shoulder, watching Ranboo all the while.

Then it hits him.

Phil is the Angel of Death.

And his wife is the Goddes of Death. The very same who had given him back his wings.

Chapter Text

“Phil, while we’re out I’m gonna need you to watch over the house.” Techno says shrugging on his cloak. Ranboo is sitting on the steps tugging on his boots. “Hopefully, we’ll be back by tomorrow morning if everything goes according to plan.”

“And if you aren’t?” The real question in Phil’s words isn't lost on the two.

What if you don’t come back?

Traveling to L’manburg was a dangerous idea. Tensions were high, and everyone on that continent was to be considered an enemy until proven otherwise. It was two of them against the rest of the world. But if they were to get revenge as originally planned, Techno needed his weapons. Ranboo, of course, was to tag along and act as his backup. “Are you sure about this?”

“I’m sure,” there is no hesitation. No doubt. “I can’t let them get away with what they’ve done, Phil. You of all people know this.”

A sigh. “I know.”

“We’re bringing plenty of invis-pots!” Ranboo pipes up. He smiles over his shoulder, gaining a smile in return. “And I’ll make sure Techno doesn’t get in any fights or hurt anyone!”

“Heh?” 

“I’ll hold you to that,” Phil chuckles, ignoring Techno’s imploring gaze. “Alright, good luck you two. Don’t cause any wars.”

Techno heads off and Ranboo jumps to his feet. He walks backward waving toward the man on the porch. “We won’t!”

──────────

The sight of L'manburg thriving sent a trident through Ranboo’s heart. The city has come far from the crater it had been rendered to previously. There are children running through the streets, smiling, and flowers grew under nearly every window. There’s a lively marketplace with someone- most likely Ghostbur- playing merry music that fills the streets. It’s neat, and tidy, and full of joy- and it hurt. It really hurt. Maybe, in some other life, Ranboo could have lived here. He’d have friends, and he’d never experience the pain he went through. Blissfully unaware of the dangers the world had.

But he’d never know. Even if L’manburg decided to accept him again it would never be with open arms. Ranboo will never forget the stares. The whispers behind his back and the tension in the air every time he passed.

“We need leverage,” Techno grunts. “If we show up like this, they’ll attack us on sight. And I only got a pickaxe.”

“How do we do that?” Ranboo asks. He looks in the general direction to where Techno was, watching the faint particles swirl around his figure. He hears Techno hum in thought.

“...I have an idea. Follow my lead.” He takes off with a running start. Ranboo follows keeping his gaze on the particles that trail after the piglin's otherwise invisible form.

It wasn’t long until Ranboo realized what Techno’s plan was. The fox hybrid is alone, and he didn’t notice them until it was too late. Techno jumped down pinning Fundy to the ground, a boot digging into his wrist keeping him from summoning his weapons. Ranboo almost felt bad.

“He betrayed you,” Dream whispers in his ear. “He’s no better than the others.”

He takes the lead Techno hands over tying Fundy’s wrists together. He makes sure the rope is tight enough that he can’t break free, but not enough to cut off circulation or cause harm. No matter what Fundy had done, Ranboo didn’t want to hurt him.

"What the fuck?" Fundy wheezes. His tail is lashing as Techno grips him by the collar and pulls him to his feet. His eyes begin to widen as their potions wear off, recognition followed by horror. “Oh god- uh, hi Technoblade. Funny, uh, seeing you here-” and then he sees Ranboo. The words catch in his throat. Ranboo awkwardly shuffles behind Techno, rubbing his arm. “R- Ranboo? What are you doing here? What are you doing with Technoblade? What-”

“We aren’t here to chat. You’re our hostage now,” Techno cuts Fundy off sharply. He narrows his eyes, tugging on the lead forcing Fundy to come closer. “We’re just here to get my stuff back. So if you’re cooperative this will go easy. If not…” He doesn’t even have to finish for Fundy to be frantically nodding, ears flattening to his head.

"Right, um, no need to get violent! We're all friends here!"

“You executed me. With an anvil.”

“That was all in the past! Right?” His eyes flick between the two. “...right?” His words crack. Almost like a squeak. Before Ranboo can pipe up, an invisibility potion is pressed into his hands.

“Drink this. I want you to stay hidden.” Ranboo tries to protest, but Techno continues. “I want you as backup. If things go wrong, I know you’ll have my back. Otherwise, I don’t want you roped into this.”

“But I’m helping you-”

“Drink the potion, Ranboo.” There is no room for argument. Ranboo sighs and uncorks the bottle chugging down the foul liquid. He pulls his hood up following Techno and Fundy. Fundy doesn’t hesitate to show Techno where Tubbo, who apparently had his weapons, was, occasionally shooting glances in Ranboo’s general direction.

On one hand, Ranboo felt guilty. This wasn’t him. He’d never do this sort of thing normally- preferring not to pick sides or to just talk things out. But on the other, Fundy had let Ranboo be exiled. He thought it was a good idea. Ranboo wasn’t an angry person by nature, but just remembering the disdain in the fox’s voice had his blood churn.

They soon come to a stop in front of the nation’s greatest landmark; the camarvan.

Hearing the soft, ever-familiar voice of the nation's president had Ranboo freezing in place, limbs locking up.

(“Dream, I want you to escort Ranboo out of my country.”)

“Fundy? Technoblade?! What- what are you doing?” Tubbo shuts the door behind him descending the steps. A small bit of Ranboo is happy to see that Tubbo is doing well. Not that Ranboo expected anything bad to have happened to him. If something had then Tommy definitely would have told him. But maybe that would’ve made it easier to swallow the fact that he hadn’t visited Ranboo at all. He hadn’t even sent a letter. He had just left him out there to die, and hurt Phil.

A second later Quackity followed, and the sight of him sent fear coursing through Ranboo’s veins. He wore a mask, strapped ‘round his head, a pixelated smile printed across the smooth surface. It was too similar to Dream’s for comfort. Ranboo grips his sleeves focusing on controlling his breathing as he watches the exchange go down.

“I’m here for my stuff,” Techno says flatly. “I’m offerin’ a trade. My weapons for Fundy.”

“Do you really think you can just come back here and start making demands?” Quackity spat.

“I do, actually.” In a swift movement, Techno brings his pickaxe to press against Fundy’s neck. Ranboo knew it was a bluff, but they didn’t. “I already had him set his respawn point. Give me my weapons, or I’ll take all three of his lives.”

“Just give him his stuff!” Fundy pleads. “Please, Tubbo- ow, ow, too close- guys, come on!”

“How could you let yourself get taken hostage?!” Quackity screams raking a hand through his hair.

“I can’t do that, Technoblade,” Tubbo says. He sounds uncertain. His eyes dart between Fundy to Techno. “Why- why don’t we talk this out?”

“I tried talking things out with you guys! I tried being peaceful!” Techno throws an arm out. “And didn’t work! I’m gonna count to five and you’re gonna give me my weapons back, or I’ll slicing his throat.”

“Technoblade!”

“One.” Quackity is already preparing for a fight. He’s pulled out a golden apple, and his mask has been removed revealing a horrendous scar that trails up his face from his mouth across his eye. The eyelids had been sewn together.

“Just give him back his stuff, Tubbo!”

“Two.” Ranboo flicks his gaze to Techno. He wasn’t going to back down. This was happening.

“L'manburg is no longer a nation of pushovers, Technoblade! You’ve already seen what we can do, and we aren’t going to just let you get away with this!” He has the same tone Dream would take on when punishing Ranboo.

“Three.” That’s when Ranboo sees it. A glint from underneath Quackity’s sleeve as he subtly lifts his arm. An arrowhead. Techno hadn’t seen it, though. 

“Tubbo, please!” Fundy shrieks getting yanked back by his jacket when he tried to slip away.

“Four.” Ranboo drops from his position to the ground with a silent thud. The only one that seemed to hear him is Fundy, an ear twitching in his direction. He breaks out into a sprint aiming for Quackity, reaching for the sword at his hip.

“I’m not letting you survive this time, Technoblade!” Quackity swings his arm up revealing the mini-crossbow that was strapped to his forearm. He pulls back on the string preparing to fire.

As the potion fades from his body, Ranboo unsheathes his sword. He swings cutting the straps holding the crossbow. In the same move, he grabs the weapon ripping it off Quackity’s arm before tossing it away. His paws skid across the dirt, turning his body to bring his blade to Quackity’s neck, long, wickedly sharp canines on view as he snarls, low and warning. His tail flicks back and forth, pupils dilating to slits. “I’m not letting you hurt him. Stand down, Quackity.”

“Ranboo?” Tubbo breathes, but Quackity didn’t even look surprised. He looked downright furious.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Quackity seethes. His hands ball into fists. Ranboo holds back his instinctive flinch. He isn’t the same person as he was back in the courthouse. He’s stronger now. “You Ender-fuck bastard-”

“My weapons, Tubbo,” Techno interrupts calmly. He hasn’t moved. “Now.”

“I-” the president falters before sighing heavily. Tubbo kneels setting down an enderchest. “...okay.”

──────────

“You did good, Ranboo,” Techno suddenly breaks the silence once they have reached the community house. Ranboo glances up. He scratches his jaw awkwardly, not looking at him. But there is no mistaking the pride in his voice. “I didn’t see Quackity's attack in time. So uh. You did...good. Not like my heart’s warmed or anything.”

“It was pretty cool huh?” There’s a slight skip in his step as Ranboo follows Techno up the hill to the nether portal. “He didn’t even see me coming and I was like- bam and- and Tubbo was like-” he imitates a gasp. “And it- it felt good ! Yeah. Yeah! I-” Ranboo pauses. “I...saved you.”

“Okay, kid, that’s a reach.”

“I saved Technoblade!” He grins bounding over to Techno’s side. The pigman sighs heavily. “I can’t wait to tell Phil.”

“You are not telling Phil.”

“Why not-”

As they emerge on top of the hill, all the cheer in Ranboo’s voice melts away. The invisible strings around his neck tighten.

“Uh-” Techno trails off. “This is uh. Awkward.”

Dream doesn’t say a word. He steps forward letting his body fully materialize into his realm as he exits the nether portal. He dusts his shoulders off.

“Hello!” Dream says lifting a hand in greeting. “How’s it going? If...I remember correctly,” he takes another step forward. Ranboo flinches as Dream flicks his wrist. A glowing, netherite axe appears in his grip, draping across his shoulders. Just the sight of it had his leg burning in phantom pain. The scar that will never fade. “You aren’t supposed to be here, Ranboo.”

“What…” Ranboo’s hands ball into fists. He unconsciously curls in, making himself smaller, remembering the rules that had been set in place. “What are you doing here..?”

“I- unlike you- live here!” He tilts his head to the side. Mockingly. He's speaking to Ranboo as if he was a child. “Do you happen to remember why you don’t anymore?”

(“I’m sorry, Dream! I’m sorry- please, please I’ll be good! Let me out- let me out, please!”)

“You burned down George’s house, Ranboo.” His jaw tightens, clenching his fists tighter. “You betrayed everyone! You betrayed me! And now you’re here, what, committing crimes? You didn’t learn anything ! And, Ranboo, I have to say. I’m disappointed in you.”

“I…” Ranboo’s voice is barely above a whisper. He squeezes his eyes shut. “I didn’t burn down George’s house…”

“Yes, you did. I saw you do it-”

“No, I didn’t!” He screams, slamming a hand to his chest. “I know I didn’t! Tommy and I just took some things, but we never burned down his house! The-” Dream hasn’t moved. Ranboo gasps for air, feeling the months of pain and anger bubble up. “You framed me! You- you manipulated me!”

“Ranboo, I was the only person who visited you. I was your friend-”

“You abused me!”

“I was helping you. And you betrayed me! You left, and now you’re here causing problems. Did you learn anything?” Dream sighs, exasperated. “And now you’re painting me to be the villain. I’m the bad guy.”

“You only kept me there because you were using me!” His eyes burn with unshed tears. “You were trying to make me into your puppet to use against Tommy! Because you’re scared of him!”

“Enough!” He shouts causing Ranboo to flinch. His ears flatten and his tail tucks itself between his legs like a scared dog. “Come here, Ranboo. We’re leaving. Now.” Dream stalks forward and grabs his arm yanking him forward.

But before Dream can take him away, he’s stopped by a hand grabbing his wrist.

“That’s enough, Dream,” Techno cautions. “Ranboo’s not going anywhere.”

Dream hums. “Are you sure about this, Technoblade?”

“Let him go.” He doesn’t hesitate. Dream is silent for a long moment. “I said-”

Dream bursts out laughing. An arm comes to wrap around his stomach as he laughs, the wheezing sound setting all of Ranboo’s nerves alight. After a bit of laughing, he stands straight and removes his mask. Ranboo’s breath hitches. The void that takes the space where his face should be is a similar substance to Phil’s new wings, the inky liquid forming a giant hole in his head.

“You always were soft, Technoblade,” he chuckles. “I’d like to cash in my favor.”

“What-” Ranboo whips around seeing Techno pause.

“Stand down and hand over Ranboo immediately, Technoblade.” The world comes to a stop.

“Dream, I- I know you’re angry but-” Ranboo tries, hoping to maybe reason with the man, that maybe if he plays nice Dream will listen. “I’m- I'm sorry I ran away, but I- I couldn't stay there any longer! I- I want to stay with Technoblade. It- I’m happier there! I'll listen to you- I'll do whatever you say. Just please-”

Techno lets go of Dream’s wrist.

(“Hey, listen to me kid. Phil and I aren’t letting him take you. Not in a million years. You’re safe with us.”)

The flame of hope in Ranboo’s chest burns out.

Had it all been lies?

As Techno turns away, he’s reminded of Tommy in the courthouse. How the teen had turned away as George accused Ranboo of burning down his house, how he just let them take him away.

“It’s like I said, Ranboo,” he winces as a hand tangles in his hair and a foot kicks his legs out from under him. Ranboo collapses to his knees forced down like a dog. He can barely hear Dream’s voice over the memories overlapping each other. His cheeks burn. Something wet comes to splatter onto the concrete. Ah. He's crying. It doesn't even hurt anymore. “I’m your only friend. It’s time to go home, Ranboo.”

Chapter Text

Ranboo has lived in a cage his entire life. He had been trapped so long in the endless loop surrounded by the same four walls that he lost faith that there was anything worth living for beyond the walls. Then a door appeared. But that brief feeling of freedom he had been trapped again in another box. It consumed him. At any point in time he could make a key and command a door to appear, but what was the point? There was nothing for him in the world outside.

One day, though, someone entered his box. He gave him a home. Overtime Ranboo grew to feel safe. Protected and cared for. Loved. It was better than a dream because it was real. He went from living in a box to a field of endless flowers and of an eternally blue sky. For the first time in his life, Ranboo had a family. But there was always that shadow hanging over him. It followed him everywhere. Ranboo knew that if he ever looked back he would be back in the room.

He just never thought the one who saved him- the one he trusted- would be the one to lock him back inside.

“I’m done wasting time here,” Dream says in a clipped tone. Ranboo doesn’t even fight it as the hand grabs his collar and drags him up. “It’s time to go back, Ranboo. Oh, and you won’t be needing this.”

In one swift movement, Dream unclips Ranboo’s cloak and tosses it to the ground. For extra measure, he grinds his boot down on it, dirt smearing across the gentle fabric. He watches Dream tear off the pom-poms he always twirled around his fingers or let the wolf pups play with. Ranboo knows he should feel upset. The cloak had been one of the first things Techno ever gave him. It was something that helped him feel safe.

He just feels empty.

The world passes by like thousands of camera frames per second shown one at a time. In this bubble Ranboo finds himself in the coldness was colder and colors were brighter. All the while his insides feel as if there is nothing there, nothing to have need of anything at all, as if they had been replaced with stuffing. Green strings tied around his throat like a leash guide him forward. Each step heavier than the last.

The ground trembles.

“What-” Dream cuts off as a giant blur goes soaring past. It collides with the nether portal, the obsidian cracking, the purple veil shattering and clattering onto the ground like shattered glass pieces. Laying beside the broken portal is a giant boulder. The man is frozen in place back facing Ranboo. Finally, he finds his voice. “What the fuck ?”

“I missed…” A low voice murmurs. “I was aiming for your head.”

There is a crater where the boulder had previously been one with the ground. Standing beside it is Technoblade. His head is bowed, his pink hair a curtain that cast a dark curtain across his face, a black cloud of smoke forming around his body. Through the smoke, there are red static lines that reveal themselves. They tie in with each other forming words in the empty space. Tossed by Techno’s feet is his crown. 

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD

YOU’RE FUCKED NOW GREEN BOY

EE E EEE EEEEEE E

TECHNOPROTECT PROTECT RANSON

get boo get him back

RANBOO MY BELOVED COME BACK

PHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIL PHIL WE NEED YOU

Dream's Gonna Die Crab Rave

“Here’s the thing, Dream,” Techno begins. With each word, he takes a step forward. His hands flex at his side, the muscles rippling. When he lifts his head the sclera to his eyes are a deep crimson and there are only two black holes where his pupils and irises should be. The veins in his face are turning red. “If you use your favor you better phrase it like you’re talking to a genie.”

“Technoblade.” Dream takes a step back.

“You only said to hand him over.” He tips his head up exhaling smoke. “Not let me keep him forever. That was your mistake, Dream.”

In a movement too fast for Ranboo to catch, Techno closes the distance between the two and punches Dream across the face. The man is sent flying through the air soon plummeting onto the ground and sliding away. Techno takes this time to unsheathe his sword heading to him. With each step rather than growing smaller from the distance between him and Ranboo he grows larger.

By the time he reaches Dream no longer is he the Techno Ranboo knows. In his place is a creature that is both a pig and a boar combined into one. They, at a glance, are at least twelve feet tall with large upward curved tusks that gleam under the sun.

The Blood God.

“Oh my god…” Ranboo whispers when he finds his voice. He flinches back as Dream suddenly spurs back to life, driving his axe into the god’s snout and using the handle as a clutch to stand. The god roars out before charging into Dream slamming him back into the ground. Again and again, he’s thrown, slammed, stomped, blood splattering onto the concrete as he’s hit again and again and again.

By the time Ranboo finds the courage to step closer, a crater has formed with Dream lying at the center. He can hear the god speaking in an unfamiliar, ancient tongue, repeating some phrases as they slam a large hoof into Dream’s face. The visible screeches around them have grown and Ranboo can even hear some of their screams. His instincts tell him to run. It would be the smart thing to do. He should just let these two kill each other off and get as far away as possible.

But, rather than running away, Ranboo walks until he’s staying just behind the blood god. The crown he had grabbed on his way feels heavy.

“Techno..?” It stops. He reaches a shaking hand to rest tentatively against a hind leg. The fur is coarse under his touch. “I- please. Please, stop.” Ranboo squeezes his eyes shut. He should let Dream die. He wants him to die. But, at the same time, some part of him still under the man’s control cares for him. That screams out every time he is hurt. “That’s enough.”

It takes a bit for the god to dissolve leaving Techno in their place. He’s panting, and falls deathly silent as Ranboo reaches up to gently place the crown on his head.

“...Ranboo.” Techno croaks, voice hoarse and deep. Ranboo freezes. He’s facing the man’s back, hands covered in Dream’s blood. “I...understand if you’ve lost your trust in me. If you’re...scared of me. But I want you to know that, no matter what happened, I never would have let him take you-”

He stops as Ranboo hugs him from behind. The teen presses his face against Techno’s back. Relived tears sliding down his cheeks. “Thank you…” He whispers, shoulders shaking. Techno shifts until he can hug Ranboo back properly, wrapping the boy up in his arms and cloak. As the events finally hit Ranboo, he clutches onto Techno tighter, hating himself for ever doubting him. “Thank you, dad…”

Ranboo tenses. His eyes go wide and his face heats up as his mind catches onto the tailwind of what he just said.

“You’re welcome, Atlas.” Techno mumbles. 

The brief relief that Ranboo feels is immediately torn away. “Did you say something else though?” Ranboo presses closer as his brain frantically comes up with something.

“I- I said you’re down bad.” If Ranboo wasn’t hugging Techno he’d hit himself. He hears Techno hum soon followed by a light chuckle. “You...I can’t believe you punched Dream for me…”

“What, like it’s hard?” Despite everything, Ranboo laughs. “Do you really think I can’t take on a homeless Teletubby?” He pulls back only to make a face when Techno grabs his face, squishing his cheeks together.

“Ow-”

“Stay still. You’re crying and you’re only gonna end up burning yourself more. I don’t wanna deal with those wounds openin’ up on me.” He brings a corner of his cloak up to carefully wipe Ranboo’s face. The entire situation feels so surreal that Ranboo begins laughing again. “I said don’t move!”

“I’m- I’m sorry! You just- you’re acting like a frantic mother!”

“Oh, I’m sorry for caring for your wellbeing,” Techno says dramatically. He pushes Ranboo away with a ruffle to his hair, Ranboo grinning up at him. “Grab your cloak and come on. Let’s head home.”

──────────

By the time they get home, the moon is high in the sky, stars scattered across the dark blanket. Ranboo watches the front door swing open. He takes off in a sprint, kicking up snow. There is a shawl drawn around Phil’s shoulders and he’s yawning. He must have just woke up.

“The crows said you guys were back-” Phil is cut off by Ranboo flinging himself into the older man’s arms. He stumbles before regaining balance. “Woah. I mean, I’m happy to see you too. But it was only a couple of days.”

Ranboo feels so small in Phil’s arms. Like the child he never got to be. He presses his face against Phil’s shoulder focusing on his breathing. “Everything alright, Ranboo?”

“Yeah…” He swallows and nods. “Just...glad to be back.”

──────────

Ranboo never brings up the favor.

──────────

The plan was simple.

They were going to build a bunker underneath L’manburg where half of the hound army would be hidden away in case of emergencies.

“Next time we won’t get caught off guard.” Techno says hooking a collar around Max’s neck. “If Dream even looks at you, we can set the dogs on him.”

“I don’t know if we’ll have to go that far,” Ranboo chuckles. He scoops one of the dire wolf pups into his arms tucking them into his cloak. “There you go, little guy. Gotta keep warm.” He murmurs, booping the little black nose.

Getting the hounds through the sewers had been easy, and Ranboo sat with them while Techno mined out the bunker. He felt bad leaving them hidden, but Techno reassured him they’d visit frequently enough. “Maybe next time we can bring Phil.”

“Maybe. I’m sure he’s gettin’ tired of being cooped up inside.”

“I was thinking that while we’re out we could go trading?” He offers. Techno leads the way out of the sewers, Ranboo by his side, having gotten used to the smell and the dim lighting from their visits. “There’s the village on the way back we could stop by.”

They decide to cross the community house rather than taking the long way around. They had just passed Church Prime when Techno grabbed Ranboo’s shoulder, stopping him mid-step.

“Hang on. Something’s not right,” Techno pulls Ranboo back till he’s by his side. “Chat’s freaking out.”

Ranboo isn’t afraid of many things. But the smell of smoke in the air will always send a spark of panic through his veins. “Let’s take the long way- Ranboo! Ranboo!”

As Ranboo rushes up the hill, the scene comes into full view.

He comes to a stop.

“Shit,” Techno whispers. Although he can't see him, Ranboo feels his presence behind his back. A hand brushes past his shoulder. The inside of what's left of the Community House is blurred by walls of water that cascade down the broken walls. Dark silhouettes are scattered inside and there are more people perch along the cracked roof. “This isn’t good.”

“Do-” Ranboo’s ears swivel as he tries to catch the tailwind of whatever’s happening inside. “Does Chat know what happened?”

“Dunno. Some are saying Tommy did. Some say Dream. All I know is that it’s bad. And that we should not get involved.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “No, Tommy wouldn’t do this! He- he’s being framed. I just know it.”

“That might be so, but this isn’t our problem, Ranboo. We’ve already gotten involved in too much.” And he knows Techno is right. They are in no position to go charging into a hostile situation. Especially if Dream was there.

Ranboo turns until his eyes fall on Techno’s chin. “I’m not leaving Tommy there alone. He’s my friend. You can stay here if you want. I understand-”

“I’m not letting you go in alone, kid.” Techno sighs, arms draped over his knees. “That’d be like. Twenty against one. You need backup.”

Backup.

Just a few days ago Ranboo thought he was going to be handed over, and now here Techno was about to follow him into a high-pressure situation that he had no reason to enter. For Ranboo. “Okay. Just trust me. I…I have a plan.”

Techno snorts. “You don’t have a plan, do you?”

“I’ll make one up as I go!” Ranboo reaches into his back pocket for an enderpearl. “It can’t be that hard, right?”

“You’re gonna get us killed.”

Ranboo takes a moment to shrug. “Eh, probably. But at least it’ll be kinda cool, right?”

The pearl he throws is angled over the roofs and onto the other side. Ranboo lands tasting something bitter in his mouth. He’ll never get used to teleporting. He doesn’t know how the other Endermen can do it.

“What- Ranboo?” Tommy spins. His eyes widen when he spots Techno standing behind him trident in hand. Ranboo’s hand falls to his sword hilt. Dream stands opposite to him beside Tubbo. And, as Ranboo takes in the situation, he realizes just why this situation caused such an uproar. In Tubbo’s hand is one of Tommy’s discs.

“Tubbo,” Ranboo begins. He keeps his voice calm, hoping to handle this through talking. “Don’t do this. Tommy didn’t do this- you know that. Does this look like something he’d do?”

“Bold words coming from a traitor.” Dream cuts in. “Tubbo, you know this is the right thing to do.”

“He’s lying!” Ranboo says through gritted teeth. He pushes back the memories that threaten to resurface. “He’s been lying this entire time! He’s the one who burned down George’s house! He lied to me in exile, lied to Techno, lied to everyone ! He’s pretending to be everyone’s friends when in reality all he wants is power and control over everyone!”

“Ranboo…” His voice lowers. Dream steps into Ranboo’s personal space but he stands his ground. “You’re making baseless accusations. You have no proof. You’re pushing all the blame onto me.” A hand grips his shoulder squeezing tight. He leans in close until his face is right next to his ear. “They’ll never believe you. Give up-”

“Get the fuck away from him you green bastard!” An arrow whizzes past nicking Dream’s ear. Tommy pulls back on his bowstring. “I said get away from him!”

“Tommy!” Tubbo shouts grabbing onto his friend’s arm. “Stop it! What are you doing-”

“You don’t fucking understand! He’s been using you, Tubbo! He’s trying to turn you against me, man! This is all to get the discs! And if you give him it then what’s the point in anything?”

“I’ve done everything for this country!” And Ranboo sees just how tired Tubbo looks in his oversized uniform with a crooked tie. His voice shaking. Dark bags under his eyes. Blonde roots showing. His shirt missing a button. A kid who was forced to up the mantle left behind by two legends. “And you just- you don’t care ! Did you ever care, Tommy? About L’manburg? About me?”

“The discs, Tubbo, the discs are all that matter!”

Silence.

Ranboo watches Tommy’s expression twist in horror as he realizes what he just said. “I didn’t-” he stutters. “I didn’t mean that- I swear, I didn’t-” he cuts off and takes a shuddering breath. One Ranboo knew meant he was close to hyperventilating or dissolving into panic.

Tubbo, on the other hand, looks distraught. There is no better way of putting it. His eyes are glossed over with unshed tears. He bites down on his lower lip, fists balled at his sides to reign in his emotions. Trying to put on the strong mask of a president. One who wasn’t controlled by his emotions.

Dream starts to laugh. He laughs and laughs and Ranboo wishes he would just stop because that laugh brought back memories of exile- of explosions and of nights spent agonizing over the past, of being beaten and manipulated every second. Not even safe in his sleep. The strings were being pulled again and Dream exhales, a hand raking through his hair.

“Oh, Tommy. Tommy, Tommy, Tommy. You’ve gone and done it again. You betrayed everyone’s trust in you.” The man has a spring in his step as he comes to stand beside Tubbo. “Tubbo, I’d like to cash in that favor with L’manburg-”

He’s stopped by a blade coming to press against his neck. Ranboo stands shielding Tubbo and Tommy from Dream, a tight, firm grip around his sword.

“Ranboo, what are you doing?” He hears Techno shout.

But Ranboo made his decision long ago. Because, no matter what, he’d always choose people over sides. They may have wronged him in the past, but that’s only because they had no choice. Ranboo sees this now. That doesn’t make it easier. He knows exactly how this looks to Techno. Protecting the president of the very nation that has wronged him and his friends multiple times over?

It’s a betrayal.

“Ranboo,” Ranboo inhales sharply. Trying to ignore his body tenses at the sound of his name coming from Dream. “I want you to stand down.”

He glances over his shoulder. Tubbo is staring past him, shock and confusion flickering across his face, whereas Tommy is arguing with Techno. When Tubbo met Ranboo’s gaze, he gave him a soft smile.

Ranboo faces Dream. His gaze hardens and his voice doesn’t waver as he speaks.

“No.”

Dream says something else, but Ranboo can’t hear him. He doesn’t hear anything other than Techno’s quiet, hurt voice. “Ranboo, what are you doing?”

His grip around the sword shakes. He wishes he could explain it all right now but they don’t have the time. Ranboo doesn’t even know if Techno would understand. How could he help the very people who hurt him? Who hurt Phil? Even Ranboo didn’t have an answer. And he has a role to play now. If there is one thing Ranboo knows about Dream is that he is an opportunist, and he will jump at the chance to manipulate someone vulnerable. Ranboo knows Techno isn’t weak enough to succumb to him. He knows he’s the only person.

That didn’t make it any easier.

“You…” It hurts to speak. “You handed me over to Dream. After I trusted you. After I told you everything . Why…” but what hurts more is that, somewhere deep down, Ranboo knows there is an inkling in truth in his words. That, no matter what, that scar will never heal over his heart. “Why would I ever trust you again?” Tears are prickling at the edges of his eyes causing the skin to sizzle.

No one speaks. Ranboo doesn’t dare turn around to face Techno. He knows if he sees his face he’ll break.

Suddenly, a clap echoes across the community house.

“Well, well, well. Now isn’t this a turn of events,” Dream says in fake dramatics. He crosses his hands behind his back beginning to pace around. He comes to a stop beside Techno. “I just can’t believe how stupid all of you are. Technoblade!” The grin is audible as he grips the man’s shoulder. “How many withers do you have?”

“What?” Tommy shrieks pushing forward. “No- don’t you dare , Dream!”

“Why not?” He tilts his head. “I’ve tried being diplomatic. I’ve tried playing nice. And it didn’t work. So if I can’t get the disc that way...I’ll just have to take it by force.”

“You can’t do this!” Tubbo cuts in standing beside Tommy.

“...are you suggesting what I think you are?” Techno finally speaks up, voice low and monotone. Ranboo tenses.

“How do you feel about destroying a nation, Technoblade?”

Chapter Text

“L’manburg is being destroyed- tomorrow! Say your goodbyes! I’m giving you time.”

Before anyone could stop him, Dream tossed an enderpearl through the water disappearing onto the other side. When Ranboo finally gathers the nerves to turn around, Techno is gone.

──────────

There are so many voices shouting over each other at once, the constant overlapping noise coming from every angle. Ranboo could feel the start of a migraine coming on. He shuffles away from the crowd that has formed after the community house had been drained. An argument had initiated almost instantly.

“-Ranboo, what the hell , man?” Tommy whisper-shouts. He drags the teen away from the group and behind Eret’s tower. “I thought you were on Techno’s side. Are you tryna get yourself killed?”

“I’m not on anyone’s side. I told you, Tommy, I just want to help. This was the only way I could do this.” He scrubs his hands over his face and groans against his palms.

“By betraying Technoblade? You’ve fucked us! Now L’manburg is gonna get destroyed because of that green asshole-”

“Techno was going to destroy L’manburg no matter what,” Ranboo interrupts sullenly. He hears Tommy’s sharp inhale. “And...I’m not convinced that blowing it up is not such a bad idea. I’m not...I’m not betraying him. I have a plan. It’s just…” he doesn’t know that. He wishes he had faced Techno rather than hiding like a coward. At least then he could have gauged the amount of hate being directed toward him.

“Does it involve getting everyone on this server to hate you?”

“No.” Then Ranboo pauses. “Unless you think that would be the best way to get at Dream.”

“I was being sarcastic!” Tommy groans dramatically. “We’re doomed. Listen, I have to go help Tubbo and figure out just what we’re gonna do for tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense,” he rubs his arm. “I…” He hadn’t thought this far ahead. His plan just involved Techno and Dream teaming up so that someone he trusted could keep an eye on the man and make sure he didn’t do anything.

He wants to step back into the fray, say his piece, and stick up for his beliefs, but the thought alone was exhausting. Not that anyone would listen to him anyway. The uneasy and cautious stares that followed his every movement were enough proof. They still saw him as the enemy. As a traitor. There were some, however, who weren’t subtle about their critical glares, the eyes on him weighing down his body with pressure. If not for Techno, he’s sure someone would have cut him down where he stood.

But he was the only one who knew first-hand Dream’s tricks. “I need to say something. To all of them. But I’d like it if you...were there with me. Just so that I’m not...” alone.

Tommy is silent. “You don’t have to, of course, I just thought, since you’re the vice president of L’manburg and all that, they’d listen you were- you know what, I can do it it’s alright-”

“Ranboo,” a hand comes up to squeeze his shoulder. Tommy is smiling, eyes warm and understanding, the sun spilling over his shoulders and golden hair. “Lead the way, boss man.”

Ranboo releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Thanks, Tommy.”

“And if anyone tries anything, I’ll kick their ass.”

“That really isn’t necessary.”

Ranboo wishes Techno and Phil could see him right now. He hopes they’d be proud. Maybe he’ll tell them about it when he gets back.

“If they let you back,” the Dream voice whispers.

Ranboo exhales shakily heading up the steps where everyone has gathered.

“Ranboo!” A female voice calls out. Ranboo promptly chokes on the air, caught off-guard, going on the defensive. The cry has alerted the rest, and Ranboo can feel the eyes on him again, curiosity morphing into distrust and hate. He isn’t prepared for the pink blur that comes rushing across the courtyard and the body that flings against him in a tight hug. “You’re alive!”

“Niki?” Ranboo grasps Niki’s shoulders and stabilizes himself so they don’t fall over. He hadn’t recognized her at first. Her hair is now a blazing pink pulled into twin buns. It’s much brighter than Techno’s pink hair. It must be dyed. “You- your hair is pink!”

“Yeah!” She laughs. She scrubs her palm across her eyes wiping away the tears. “I- Tommy told me you died!” Ranboo shoots a glare at Tommy who quickly stammers.

“In my defense, I thought you were dead! And I couldn’t very well tell the truth-”

“I’m so sorry!” The sheer anguish in Niki’s voice has Ranboo’s heart twisting. “I tried to find out where you had been exiled, but the cabinet wouldn’t tell me! And- and then I heard you died and- I should have tried harder! I never should have let you be exiled! I’m so sorry-”

“Hey, hey,” Ranboo has to bend over so he can hug the shorter woman back, her hands coming to press against his back. “It’s okay. I’m back now and that’s what matters.”

“She’s lying,” the voice sing songs in his ear. “She knew where you were. She didn’t care. None of them did. This is just an act. You know it is.”

Ranboo hugs Niki tighter. If this had been months earlier then maybe he would have believed this all to be a lie, but he had time to heal. To forgive. And, ultimately, he doesn’t care anymore. At least one person missed him. That’s all that matters.

They stay like that for what feels like ages until someone clearing their throat has Ranboo stepping back.

“Ranboo.” Fundy begins. The fox hybrid stands alongside the rest of the server who has gathered, arms crossed over his chest, ears flat to his head. “What the hell was that back there?”

“What do you mean?” Ranboo does his best to keep his voice level. He tenses when a hand grabs his. Niki gives him a supportive smile that he returns. Yeah, at least he still has one person on his side. He relaxes.

“Just whose side are you on, Ranboo?” He throws an arm out gesturing to them all. “Just the other day you were helping Technoblade get his weapons back! And now you’re trying to help us? Who even are your friends?!”

“Niki,” there is no hesitation in his voice as he speaks. “Niki is my friend. Tommy is my friend. I’d...I’d even consider Tubbo a friend- even after everything. And…” 

All eyes are on him now. He’s in the spotlight, but this time, Ranboo won’t crumble. His hands are shaking and he clenches them into fists to make them still. “Techno- I’d consider Techno my friend! Phil- Phil’s my friend too! And I’m sorry that whoever I’m friends with may not correlate with whatever country you’re affiliated with this week! But I care about people, okay? I don’t care about countries. I couldn’t- I couldn’t care less about countries. Why don’t you guys realize that?! Why don’t you-”

And, as Ranboo faces down those who turned their backs on him, he realizes Techno was right. History will always repeat itself. The most horrible tragedies will happen again and again because the people who swear they have learned and will change will only ever fall back on old habits and familiar actions. When he stares at the people lined in front of him, he only sees ghosts of the past. 

All it takes is one person to stop the cycle. And while Ranboo may not be able to stop the oncoming destruction that has been brewing for months, he won’t let these people continue down this path. Not as long as he can help it. He’ll take the scorns and the jeers and the pain as long as it means no one else will suffer what he had.

“It’s been about sides! It’s been because we chose sides! And none of this wouldn’t happen if the sides didn’t exist in the first place!” His eyes burn. “Do you know why I was exiled in the first place? It wasn’t because of some dumb house- it was because Tubbo was forced to choose a side! He was forced to choose between his country and his best friend!”

“He didn’t have a choice!” Fundy yells, stepping forward. “Dream didn’t give him a choice!”

“Exactly!” He swallows back a growl that threatens to escape. “Why doesn’t anyone realize that Dream is who we should be fighting here? He’s the one with control! He has always had control and he will always have control as long as we keep choosing sides and fighting!”

“That’s why we created L’manburg! It’s about freedom-”

“It was a drug van!” Ranboo screeches. The crowd falls silent. He gasps for air, chest heaving, gripping onto Niki’s hand tightly. “It was a drug van…”

“We were a family.” It’s Tommy who speaks up this time. His head is lowered, voice quiet but firm. The anger that had risen in Ranboo dies immediately. “That’s why we fought for L’manburg. Because we were a family.”

“And that’s why we can stop Dream! We have the numbers, we have the people, we have the determination! We just have to try!” Fundy insists. He reaches out as if to grab Ranboo. Ranboo tenses. For a moment, reality and his memories blending, and rather than Fundy standing in front of him is Dream. Dream who is reaching out to grab him. Dream who is about to hurt him. Dream-

“This is why…” a singular voice catches everyone’s attention. Standing amidst the crowd is Quackity. His voice is as sweet as honey and he drapes his netherite axe across his shoulders. “We can’t let you stay here.”

“What-”

“I say,” he swings pointing the weapon straight at Ranboo, “we execute Ranboo.”

“What?!” Niki shrieks, reaching for her sword.

“Excuse me?” Ranboo barely recognizes Tommy’s voice, low and dangerous. The two both come to stand in front of him protectively.

“You heard me. I mean, just look at him! If I didn’t interrupt, he would have attacked Fundy!” He snorts. “We can’t trust freaks like him. He’s a traitor! He’s the reason we’re in this mess in the first place! If not for him, Dream wouldn’t have put up those walls!”

“It wasn’t just Ranboo!” Tommy comes to stand beside him.

Quackity, however, just hums. “So how come he was the only one to take the fall? Makes a man wonder.”

“That-”

“So I say we execute him!”

“Does that not sound familiar?” Ranboo hadn’t even heard Tubbo come up. His face is passive, but his eyes are ablaze with anger. “Does that not sound a little like maybe that's happened before?”

“Come on, Tubbo, you have to understand! We can’t just let this go unpunished. He’s a traitor and we have to set an example that this shit can’t keep happening! Exile obviously wasn’t enough! We have to let people know what happens to traitors!”

“This is just the Red Festival all over again,” Tubbo says, low and even.

“What? No, it’s not, this is completely different.” Quackity genuinely seems confused at the comparison. He doesn’t even seem to notice the similarities.

Tubbo clenches his fists so hard Ranboo can see his knuckles turn white. He takes a step forward. “Really? Do you not realize that maybe this has happened under someone else's administration. Because this nation doesn’t tolerate traitors, right? So why don't we blow him up with a rocket launcher! Trap him in an obsidian box and force an entire audience to watch!”

“No!”

“I can’t believe I let you convince me to go after Technoblade- that I ever even listened to you or Dream in the first place! We swore never to become like him. Just whatever happened to that promise, Big Q?”

There’s a long period where nobody speaks. Then he hears Quackity chuckle.

“So that’s what you think…” He sways slightly on his feet. “That I’m a monster.” And there’s something in Quackity’s voice that feels familiar. “That I’m like... him. ”

(“I don’t want to become like him-” Ranboo chokes out. Phil is shushing him gently trying to get him to breathe. “I don’t- I don’t want to be him- anyone but him-”)

“That’s exactly what I’m thinking-”

“Do you know why...I hated Schlatt..?” Quackity’s voice wavers as he lifts his mask. His eyes are downcast, something dark hidden beneath their depths. “Because, at one point, I did love him. Fuck, I loved him. And I had worked so hard for Manburg while he just drank. And drank. I thought I could take the abuse, being used, the belittling, and torment. But he never loved me.” He sounds so heartbroken. His jaw is set as he continues speaking. “He just loved making my life a sick hell. And then he just up and decided to have a heart attack.”

(“We’re friends, right?” Ranboo asks. Dream turns, and despite the mask, he swears the man smiles. He reaches out taking the offered hand like a lost child reuniting with their guardian. “I- I don’t want to stop being friends with you.”)

“Quackity-”

“And I thought maybe- just maybe- things would alright! With Schlatt out of the picture, maybe the nation would thrive! And then that fucking pig blew it up! Everything that I had worked for- gone! So when I saw another fucking hybrid about to ruin everything I decided not to just sit aside! And, yeah, I let Dream do what he wanted to Phil! I let myself be the accomplice as long as it meant keeping this nation afloat!”

(“You did good, Ranboo,” Dream says. The wet rag burns as it wipes the blood off his hands. Ranboo keeps his gaze set and ignores the pain. Flies have already begun to settle around the dead cow. “It’s a shame about your claws, but your teeth are just as deadly. I can’t wait to see how they’ll work on another person.”)

“Big Q,” Tubbo says, voice full of authority and spine straight. He holds his chin high. Hands tucked behind his back. “If you try to execute Ranboo, that will be treason. You will be going against L’Manberg and going against me. So you can either stop this or leave.”

“Why the hell would I leave-”

“Because…” Tubbo lifts a hand and pushes his hair up. There, hidden under the dyed locks, are a pair of tiny horns that had been shaved down to just stubs. “I don’t think you’ll enjoy having a hybrid as your president.”

After a tense moment, Tubbo holding his ground, Quackity ducks his head and leaves.

Tubbo turns to the crowd clapping his hands to gather everyone’s attention and smiling apologetically. Any hostility in him has left. “We have a big day tomorrow, so I think it’d be best if we go our separate ways for now. Go gather supplies, eat, get some rest if you need to, and I’ll message you all later so we can reconvene.”

“I should go, but you know where to find me,” Niki tells Ranboo softly. She squeezes his hand once more before joining a woman with sunglasses and a pirate captain’s hat.

Tubbo waits until everyone has dispersed to face the two. “Well, that could have gone better.”

“Holy shit , Tubbo,” Tommy breathes, eyes wide. “That was badass!”

“Was it?” Tubbo chuckles rubbing the back of his neck. “I was mostly running on adrenaline.” He glances to Ranboo who awkwardly shifts his weight from foot to foot. “Ranboo-”

“You don’t have to say anything. I get it.” Ranboo’s tail brushes against his legs nervously. “You did what you thought was best for your country and your best friend. I probably would’ve made the same choice in your position. And I think saving me from execution is enough of an apology.”

Tubbo nods then holds out a hand to him. An olive branch. “Then can we start over again?”

“I…” Ranboo hesitates. He feels Tommy’s elbow nudge his ribs kicking his mind back into gear. He grips Tubbo’s hand lightly as he shakes it. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that. So um...you’re also a hybrid..?”

“Moobloom.” Tubbo says. “During the spring, flowers grow in my hair. It’s a pain in the ass to clip.”

“Thank Prime I don’t have to keep that secret anymore.” Tommy heaves a relieved sigh. “Hey, Tubs, I’m gonna show Ranboo to my place. Wanna come with?”

For a moment, Ranboo sees the teen hesitate. He glances at Ranboo silently asking for permission. 

At his slight nod, he smiles. “Sure. It can be like a sleepover.”

──────────

Ranboo can’t sleep.

Tommy and Tubbo are sprawled out on their respective beds, the former’s snoring filling the dirt hut they were staying in. He rolls onto his side facing the window. It’s not that he doesn’t feel safe here. It’s just that he misses his bed back home. He misses Steve’s snoring and the creaking of the cabin and the wind blowing past the walls. He misses the late-night conversations he’d have with Techno or Phil when he couldn’t sleep, drinking hot chocolate and talking about whatever came to mind until the sun rose. He was being dramatic, but the longer he laid there thinking the more the longing grew.

The sound of flapping wings catches his attention.

Sat on the windowsill is a crow. Its beady eyes watch Ranboo sit up, dipping its head in greeting.

“Are you one of Phil’s?” A nod. “Did he...send you?” Another nod. “Oh…” Ranboo fiddles with the edge of the blanket. “Does...can he hear me? Right now?” The crow takes a moment before nodding. “Okay. Okay, cool. Um, hi Phil. I’m okay if you guys are wondering. I’m with Tommy. Uh…” He pulls his knees to his chest. “I don’t even know how to explain...”

He’s taken off guard by the crow coming to rest on his knee. It caws when he drags his finger across its head. He continues petting the bird as he works on coming up with the words. “Techno’s probably really mad, huh? You’re probably mad too. But...I had to do this. I couldn’t just keep running- I had to face them. And I had to say what I said because it had to look convincing to Dream. You guys had to team up with Dream because I need you guys to do something for me. If...that’s okay.”

The crow nods. “I need you to get Dream to set his spawn somewhere in L’manburg during Doomsday. Or at least in the general area. It-” Ranboo inhales sharply. “That’s it. Um...I hope you guys are doing okay. And uh-”

Ranboo is cut off by the crow coming to settle on his lap. He smiles running his hand down the bird’s back. “Is this supposed to be a hug?” A nod. He chuckles. “Thanks, Phil. Thanks...”

Chapter Text

Doomsday had come without warning.

When the first drop of rain fell, so did the TNT. Somehow, in the night, Dream had built an obsidian grid above L’manburg powered by redstone and packed with explosives. The fight was over before it began. The storm that followed washing away everything and revealing the destruction beneath. There was no rebuilding. L’manburg was gone.

On the other side of the chasm decorated with the fallen and crimson rivers, stands a trio. Ranboo’s face is passive as he watches the explosions ripple across the land, overgrown hair whipping in the wind, a wolf by his side that had survived the chaos. To his right stands Tommy, gaze guarded despite the numerous bruises and scratches that mar his skin, a broken shield clutched in his hands. To his left is Tubbo, his hair being blown by the wind revealing the burn scars that twist across his face, watching as the nation he had spent so long trying to save was reduced to ash.

Another explosion shakes the earth sending the blonde stumbling forward, tripping over the debris scattered by their feet. His knees crack against the pavement as a wince slips from between his lips. He doesn’t stand. Tubbo takes a shaky step forward.

“It’s gone…” He whispers. Tommy clutches the dirt as angry tears stream down his cheeks. Tubbo stands until he reaches the edge. The clatter of rocks echoes in the crevice below. “There was nothing we could do…”

“It’s not over yet!” Tommy protests but it’s weak. Ranboo isn’t sure who he is trying to convince; Tubbo, or himself. “We- we can still save it! We can still do something !”

“It’s over, Tommy.” Tubbo says, clipped. His hands curl into fists. “L’manburg is gone. There is no rebuilding this time. We’ve lost.”

Ranboo stares into the thick smoke churned haze, the explosions echoing in his ears, withers populating the skies raining down destruction. The air still stings. The gunpowder has his eyes tearing up. His fingers are blackened with soot and withered. His lungs ache. Each breath is forced out, ribs crumbling in on themselves, the wither having spread throughout his body. He had been caught in an explosion when the battle began. The only birds who remain are crows that sing their songs of death as they follow their angel through the darkened skies. 

The nation of hope has been reduced to nothing more than a graveyard.

No matter where Ranboo looked he could no longer see the golden spark of hope that once shined so brilliantly within this city.

In the distance, a fire roars. The gnarled tree hanging on the edge of a blown-up cliff has now gone up in flames. There is a single person on that hill. Blood-stained and battered, hand brought up to her head in a final salute as she watches the tree burn, pink hair buffeting in the wind. A final goodbye to an unfinished symphony. Tears that stream down her face.

In the ruins of a destroyed house, the ghost of a long-lost son screams at his father. His echoey voice haunts the air as his emotions warp his appearance. Thick blue tears spill down his cheeks turning the skin. His arms, the once golden sweater now stained crimson, clutching the corpse of his only friend. And he screams. He screams, and screams, and screams until his voice goes hoarse and buries his face into the sheep’s wool.

On an obsidian grid that touches the heavens, a self-named god laughs.

“Goodbye, L'Manberg.” Ranboo says into the hot air. He knows that any minute now he’ll be entering his own war, but for now he’ll mourn the loss alongside his friends. For a moment he’ll allow himself this pain. “You were never a good idea to begin with. But at least you tried."

──────────

The trio reaches the obsidian grid after what felt like hours of climbing.

Tommy had lost his footing at one point, but Tubbo had pulled him back up before he could fall. Ranboo leads the way. When the trio reached the top, the clouds kissing the darkened sky, they were met with Dream waiting for them.

There were no words exchanged. There was nothing to be said. 

It was Tommy who charged first with Tubbo and Ranboo on his heels. Tommy meets the swing of Dream's axe with his sword. Sparks are sent flying at the violent clash of netherite. When Dream swung the axe again, it hit Tommy's sword and shattered the blade in half. Both pieces clatter against the obsidian.

Rather than delivering the killing blow, Dream uses his free hand to push Tommy back. Tommy yelps and flung his arms out trying to regain balance as he stumbles.

“Tommy!” Ranboo screams. He manages to grab the teen’s hand before he can disappear over the edge, struggling to keep them both from going over. “Hold- hold on! I got you!”

“Ranboo, watch out!” In the reflection of Tommy’s eyes, Ranboo saw an axe be raised. It was Tommy who screamed when the blade met with Ranboo’s back, cutting into the flesh, blood splattering onto the obsidian. Ranboo bites back the cries and focuses on not letting go. “Shit- Tubbo!” 

“On it!” Tubbo shouts. Dream struggles with pulling his axe out of Ranboo’s back long enough for Tubbo to drive his sword through the man’s chest. With one last burst of energy, Ranboo hauls Tommy back onto the grid. Ranboo turns just in time to witness Tubbo slitting Dream’s neck open with a knife. “Not this time. I’m not letting you kill him this time.”

Dream’s armor clatters against the ground as his body dissolves into a cloud of particles.

Tommy doesn’t hesitate. He catches the sword Tubbo tosses his way and sprints across the path where a bed had been placed beforehand. The moment Dream respawns a fist is colliding with his mask.

“You’ve fucked up for the last time, Dream!” A hand fists around his cloak hauling the man off the ground. Again and again, Tommy punches him until his knuckles are bleeding and the mask has been reduced to nothing more than shatters. “This-” when he draws back his arm, he grips the sword handle tight. “Is for ruining my life, you green bastard!”

In one swing, Tommy cuts Dream’s head from his shoulders.

Ranboo keeps one arm around Tubbo’s shoulders as he limps toward the bed. Tommy keeps his sword against the freshly respawned Dream’s neck until the two have reached him. “He’s all yours, boss man.”

“You don’t want me dead, Ranboo,” Dream says. His voice is wavering. For once, Dream is scared. Dream is afraid of Ranboo. The once powerless teenager is now witnessing his greatest enemy on his knees begging for his life. “You can’t kill me, Ranboo.”

“Watch me.”

“You need me, Ranboo.” And he hates how convincing he sounds. How, somewhere deep inside him, he agrees. “We’re friends, remember? I’m here to help you. All I’ve ever done is help-”

“You ruined my life!” Ranboo raises his sword.

“I can bring people back from the dead!” At Dream’s shout, the boy falters. “When I sided with Schlatt during the war, he gave me a book that allows me to bring people back to life. If you kill me, then death is permanent!”

“That…” Tommy seems just as hesitant. His gaze flickers between the two. “He can bring back Wilbur…”

“But is bringing the dead back to life worth keeping this monster around any longer?” Tubbo points out, bangs falling over his eyes.

“I-”

“Tommy…” Ranboo never tears his gaze away from Dream. In the back of his mind, his laughter echoes. “I have to kill him.”

“There’s always the prison,” Tubbo places a hand on Ranboo’s arm. “He can stay there as punishment for what he’s done.”

“And if we get the book then no one has to die!” Tommy adds. “We can fix things! Everything will be…” Their voices blend into static as Ranboo stares into the void that is Dream’s face.

“This is your plan…” He whispers. Dream doesn’t respond. “You want them to keep you alive. This is just another one of your tricks…” For a moment, the smile flashes before his eyes. Ranboo recoils and grabs his head. “That- that won’t work on me any longer.”

“Ranboo…” Dream’s voice is low enough so the others won’t hear him. “If you kill me, you’ll just be proving me right. You’ll be a monster.”

“I know.” Ranboo swallows. He closes his eyes. “And I don’t care.”

He ignores the shouts as he drives the sword through Dream’s head. Blood comes trickling out from the void and Ranboo tightens his grip. He manifests all the anger and pain he had been bottling up for months into this single strike, shrugging off the hands that try to pull him away. “Go to hell.”

Ranboo stays like that until Dream’s body has gone limp. He watches as the face that had been missing began to regrow, muscles and skin reforming in slow motion, lifeless green eyes staring into Ranboo’s. When the transformation has completed, Ranboo falls to his knees. His sword clatters against the obsidian.

Dream’s smiling.

Even in death, Ranboo can’t escape that smile.

──────────

It’s over.

Through the smoke, the sun blooms upon the horizon, golden rays stretching out across the sky. The potion of healing Tubbo used on Ranboo’s back had closed the wound, but it will leave a scar. It aches as he stumbles across the burnt fields. He’s the only one left. Those who had survived the destruction left for new lands to treat the wounded and figure out what to do next.

Then he sees it. In the blackened hues of the land, a spot of color atop a hill.

Ranboo climbs onto the hill, a shaky smile on his lips, body sluggish and exhausted. 

“Hey,” he breathes. As Techno turns, Ranboo finds the courage to speak. “I did it. He’s gone.” His chest feels as if it’s about to burst at any moment. He's never felt so relieved. He can see the pride on Techno's face, the way his eyes glisten. It has only been a day since they parted yet it feels as though months had passed. In just a day the two had changed so much. It feels like a dream. “He’s gone-”

He hadn’t seen the person across the gaping cavern raise their bow. They hadn’t known the fighting was over. All they could see was the man responsible for the withers and, most likely, an accomplice. They probably saw this as their chance to end it all.

Ranboo hadn't seen it until it was too late.

The arrow lodges into Ranboo’s stomach.

He watches as the crimson grew across his abdomen, deepening the dark fabric and blooming like a flower. The realization dawns on him slowly, dangerously slow, and when Ranboo found the strength to look up another arrow had been released. Whizzing through the air.

And hits him in the shoulder.

“Oh…” Ranboo’s voice wavers. He coughs up blood. The world spins. “That’s- not good-” the words are thick on his tongue. Hard to speak into existence. He has suffered through countless wounds and breaks, but he has never felt anything like this. The pinprick stinging that spreads across his entire body until it's numb. There’s a vast emptiness left in his chest where his organs should be as he coughs up blood. There is something green mixed in with his blood. Poison. The arrows had been poisoned. Oh, so that’s why. “I don’t- I don’t feel so good-”

He stumbles forward but his foot slips on the ground and he's falling, chest and shoulders colliding with Techno as the man's arms come up to catch him. He’s gently lowered to the ground, knees scraping against the dirt and ash. “Just stop talking and breathe,” is murmured into his hair.

Ranboo's fingers are aching as he clutches onto Techno tighter. The pins that have formed inside his gut are spreading, pushing through his muscle to his skin and he wants it to stop. He wants this all to stop. It hurts. It hurts so much. “You’re gonna be fine, kid.”

“Like it when you call me that...” Ranboo murmurs. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth. He presses his face against Techno's chest. Listening to his heartbeat as he would during his panic attacks. He can barely think coherently, saying whatever came to mind, the veins under his skin turning a sickly green. His voice drops, becoming hoarser and hoarser as blood trickles down his chin. His body had already been weakened from the fight against Dream and the withering. This had just been the final straw. "I like...I like being your kid..." 

"Hey- hey, hey, Ranboo, stay with me, okay?” The hand behind his head is firm. Another one comes up to his stomach, applying pressure on the open wound, as if trying to force the life back into him, trying to fix his failing body. “You can keep being my kid as long as you want. Phil’s been bothering me about making it official anyway. Just, look, I'm gonna- we're both gonna make it back home and everything's gonna be fine. I just need you to stay with me, Ranboo. Just keep your eyes open."

“I’m-” he can't think. He can't cry. He can't move. Can't speak. Can't even apologize, and he’s overwhelmed with the sudden spike of fear. Because, for the first time in his life, he had something to live for. He had a life. A home. A family. Techno is above him, eyes pleading, blood-stained hands cupping his face, the pain in his eyes something Ranboo could have prevented. If only he had been stronger. If only he hadn’t gotten attached.

Dream was right. Attachments were mankind's fatal flaw.

Ranboo’s eyelids droop. A hand pats his cheek causing him to whine in protest. “Hey, stay with me. Stay with me, Ranboo. I’m right here. I’m not leaving.”

“...dad?” Techno sounds so far away. His breathing slows as a hand gently strokes the hair from his face. He wills his tongue to move, his mouth to open, and the words he manages to form are soft. Barely a whisper. “I’m scared...”

“Ranboo? Ranboo?!” He’s screaming. Ranboo wants to open his eyes and see what’s happening but he can’t find the strength. “Let me go! That’s my kid, Phil! I didn’t tell him! I didn’t tell- let me go! That- that’s my kid- Ranboo!”

The pain pulsing through him disappears in those last few seconds. It feels as though he is falling through the clouds, wrapped in the sky’s gentle embrace as he’s taken into the void. It’s absolute bliss.

As he takes his last breath, his crown falls from his head. When it connects with the ground it dissolves into a pile of stardust and cracked gems.

Chapter Text

At first, there’s nothing.

It feels as though he’s being held in a warm embrace shielded from the world. No sound reaches his ears. There is no shadow looming over him ready to strike at any given second. After all that Ranboo’s been through in the last months of his life, his exhausted soul welcomes the peace of it. No more pain, no more stress, no more fear. Just the warm, quiet dark.

He’s in a boat stranded in the middle of an ocean. The world around him is painted in black and white as if straight from an old movie. The waves are completely still. There are no birds. No clouds. No sun or moon. Ranboo can’t find the energy to move. He stays curled in a ball on the boat’s floor, fingers tracing the wooden walls that wrap around him.

He’s dead.

He’s beyond help. What is left for him? Isn’t it better now? Everyone else lived. The people he loves lived, and they’ll be all right. Even if this isn’t the happy ending he’d hoped for, at least it’s quiet. At least nothing hurts anymore. His friends will be better off without him- they never would have been involved in Dream’s web of lies and tricks to begin with if not for him.

They are better off without him. Ranboo believes this. He’s always known it, hasn’t he? Maybe he didn’t consciously decide to kill himself, but he didn’t try to save himself either. Ranboo could have done more than just bled out in Techno’s arms. There is always something . But had there ever been a point? Not that it matters. As long as everyone else is all right, what happens to him doesn’t matter.

He used to want an ending like this, didn’t he? At least nothing hurts anymore, so why does he feel so empty?

Ranboo begins to stop questioning things because what good are questions anyway. Questions only drag up unnecessary emotions. Emotions come with memories and memories- well, those are just the worst. He relaxes and lets the darkness embrace him. It’s not the hugs he’s been craving, but he has nobody to hug anymore, so he lets himself have this.

He drifts.

──────────

Ranboo loses himself, for a while. He isn’t sure how time works- if there even is time in this place.

He loses himself in the dark, and then the dark takes everything that he is. He forgets that there is life, that people exist, that there ever was or will be or can be anything but silent nothing, endless blackness. Except that he doesn’t actually know black any more than he knows any other color. They’re all just labels. Labels without meaning. Just like him.

When the memories return to him, they come in the form of ripples across the otherwise still ocean surface. His fingers graze across and through each ripple comes another memory.

The green that stretches across a sea of midnight blue as he sits on a rooftop, the borrowed cloak drawn around his shoulders warm and soft, witnessing the arctic’s hidden gem.

A rosy glow bathing the earth as the sun rises over the horizon, the air that grows brighter with each passing moment, watching as his breath soars to the heavens above.

The light on Phil’s blonde hair. Techno’s crimson eyes carrying such raw emotion. Tommy’s toothy grin.

His memories come back in colors, and then he remembers what a hug feels like, a hand around his, a kiss on the head. 

He also remembers the feeling of a fist across his face. The purple and yellow bruises spread across his skin like a dark mosaic. Pale scars that would never heal that, even in death, remain.

Ranboo remembers other things too. 

How red is also the color of blood. Brown and red mixed together in a dark hole, mourning the loss of a life taken too soon. He remembers the eyes without the people behind them that he loved. He remembers a silver crown that had ignited a fire in his soul, a hope that he once believed to be long extinguished.

He remembers a grey world and the poison killing his body and how it hurt . How pained Techno looked as he died in his arms.

It was better like this. They’re alive. Dream’s gone. He completed his goal. That’s worth his death, isn’t it?

But Ranboo misses them. Prime, he misses them. He wants to go home.

For the first time upon entering limbo, Ranboo cries. He cries, and cries, and there is no one to comfort him but the ocean. His fingers bleed as they scrape against the boat.

It’s too late but he wants it more than ever. He wants to go home.

──────────

Cold. He’s so cold.

His fingers slicked with blood.

Everything hurts.

Blood drips down his arms.

He can feel himself fading, just like the time when he melted in the rain and exploded in a pit. It’s the same and also completely different. He’s dying. A slow, painful death. This isn’t a hero’s death.

Everything in his head is hazy. As if made of pure static.

There is a hand in his hair. On his chest. Cupping his face. 

Techno. His face and hands smeared with Ranboo’s blood.

A forehead pressing against his.

Tears slipping down dirty cheeks.

“Don’t leave me.”

He is surrounded by darkness. 

Ranboo cries out, to try and reach for Techno, but it’s too late.

The darkness consumes him.

──────────

Ranboo begins seeing glimpses.

He isn’t sure what they are, but they come to him at his lowest points, when he debates jumping off the boat into the murky waters and allow himself to be dragged to the ocean floor.

(Niki turns around at the sound of the door opening, sleeves rolled to her elbows, arms covered in flour and dough. “Hello, Ranboo!” 

Her voice is nice to hear. It’s been a while since he’s come to see her. Her hair is pulled up in a half updo, and under the golden hues of the afternoon, the light a halo made of light. The flour has managed to make its way across her cheeks and up her nose as well.

“Want to help me?” She asks, already laying out some raw dough.)

Are these his memories?

(“Can’t sleep?” Tubbo comes to sit beside him on the hill. He draws his knees to his chest and rests his chin on top. “Yeah, me neither. I don’t think anything could wake Tommy up.” He laughs and he sounds so free. As if there weren’t any scars running down his skin or titles weighing down his shoulders. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over this view.”

In the distance, the sun rises to bring a new day. A group of birds flies past overhead. “Next time, we should watch this on the bench Tommy and I built ages ago. It’s got the best view and there’s a jukebox.”)

How can he see this and bear to watch?

(Tommy’s arm is around his shoulders pulling him lower so the blonde can whisper jokes in his ears. A lemonade stand had been set up in L’manburg and, according to Tommy, if he didn’t get a drink soon he’d die. When they reach the front he holds up two fingers and grins.

“Two lemonades, please!” He hands the emeralds over to the vendor, snatching the cups when they’re offered. One he hands to him, the other he begins chugging. He talks about his plan to ransack George’s house as they walk. A permanent smile on his face.)

Something pulls at him.

(Arms outstretched towards him. Reaching. He couldn’t see the person's face, but he knew somehow, that they weren’t reaching to hurt him.

“I got you,” a low voice murmurs in his ear. A hand cupping the back of his head tilting it back just enough till their foreheads can press together. “Just breathe.” Slowly, he copies the other’s breathing, hands clutching his nightshirt tightly. “Good. You’re doing good. Do you wanna stay up here?” He nods. “Alright, kid, I’ll make some hot cocoa. Go get settled with Steve.”)

Ranboo falls headfirst into the ocean. He breaks the surface with a long gasp, kicking his limbs in a poor attempt to swim. His hands scrape at the boat as he struggles to climb back in, hitting the floor with a thump.

His nonexistent body is outlined in purple. 

──────────

A crow calls out in the distance.

──────────

“Hello again.”

Ranboo peels his heavy eyelids open and sluggishly sits up. Standing across from him on the boat is a woman in black. Great, he’s hallucinating people. He wants to go home rather than whatever this is. He wouldn’t even need to be part of things. He just wants to see. Just wants to know everyone is okay. At least then he could die in peace. “You aren’t dead.”

“...I’m not?” Ranboo lifts his head. The woman is smiling.

“Not technically. You’re in limbo and your soul is destroyed, but you aren’t gone. Not forever, that is,” he hangs onto her every word. “With the admin dead, there aren’t any rules until DreamXD reinstates a new admin.”

“What does this mean?” She crouches and pushes the veil away. Ranboo never knew Death could be this kind.

“It means-” she waves a hand out. Stepping stones emerge from the water forming a path across the ocean. “That there is nothing keeping you here.”

“Why…” It’s too good to be true. Ranboo’s hands balled into fists. “Why are you doing this?”

“My husband asked me to do him a favor,” oh, that’s right. This is Phil’s wife. Ranboo blinks as a finger tips his chin up. “And, well, it’s been a couple of centuries since he last asked for one. Who am I to say no?”

“So I can go?”

Death chuckles. “You’re lucky I’m on your side, little one. Otherwise, Technoblade would be coming down and grabbing you himself.”

Techno.

He can see him again.

Ranboo climbs out of the boat and hesitates before his foot touches the path. Over his shoulder, Death urges him forward. “...thank you, ma’am.”

“Please,” she waves a hand and chuckles. A crow comes to settle on her shoulder, green eyes full of warmth that have Ranboo smiling. “Call me Kristen.”

He runs. He keeps running as colors begin to bleed into the water. A rainbow of colors forming before his eyes. Faster. He has to be faster. 

Ranboo nearly trips but picks himself each time and pushes forward.

(“You should call me uncle,” Ghostbur says matter-of-factly. He stands on a stepping stool watching him stir the pot of stew. “I’m older than you, you know! And we’re family!”)

In the distance, he sees a door forming.

(“You’re a good kid, Ranboo.” Phil settles back into the chair. The fireplace cracks by their feet. He chuckles as Steve lays his head on his lap. “Yeah. I think you’re just what Techno needed. What you both needed.”)

As the door begins to open, Ranboo can see what’s on the other side.

There is a man slumped forward onto his bed, head pillowed on his arms, and the rising sun is peeking through the curtains. His pink hair is pulled back into a messy bun and there are bags under his eyes. It looks as though he hadn’t slept for days.

There, in the bed, Ranboo sees himself. His face is lax. It’s something Ranboo had never seen before. He never knew he could look so at peace. Seeing himself like this, so serene and relaxed, pained him in a way he never could’ve known otherwise. He wonders how long it had been since he left that soundly.

Then he saw it.

One of his limp hands was being held tightly in Techno’s.

Ranboo decided he couldn’t watch any longer. He's tired of living in the past and in "what if's." From now on he'll be taking the world headfirst. But first he had to come home.

With one last burst of energy, he shoves through the door.

──────────

Ranboo wakes up slowly.

He groans, pressing a hand to his face. It feels as if his head had been submerged in jello for hours. The world is spinning and it takes all his energy just to sit up. But he came back for one thing. His eyes open at a snail’s pace, aching and stinging at the stale air. His vision is blurry. He can barely make out anything through the fog.

“Techno-” his voice is quiet, raspy, and it has him dissolving into a coughing fit. His entire body aches. Who knew coming back to life was so painful. At the sound, Techno jolts awake. Almost as if on instinct, he reaches over to touch Ranboo only to hesitate. As if worried this wasn't real. Smiling, Ranboo leans his cheek against Techno's palm embracing the warmth. Warmth. Oh, how long it has been.

Through teary eyes, Ranboo smiles. “Hi.”

And, despite it all, Techno bursts out laughing. “You’re pretty stubborn, huh?”

“Take after you, I guess.” The bed creaks as Techno comes to sit on the edge. Ranboo’s smile grows when he’s brought into an embrace, his head tucked under a chin, held so tightly as if any looser and he’d slip away. “Sorry. For bleeding out on you.”

“Too soon, Ranboo,” Techno murmurs against his head. Ranboo laughs. A weak, wet thing that dissolves into a sob as the reality of things hits him. He died, and he’s back. Techno is saying something else, but the words never reach his ears. He hiccups and chokes on the sobs as they escape. He grasps the man's shirt listening to Techno’s steady heartbeat.

He’s back.

Ranboo’s home.

Chapter Text

The campsite is as quiet as ever but it has begun to feel more peaceful. It has been a month since Ranboo came back from limbo. Ranboo has been making frequent visits here. If asked why he wouldn’t have an answer. Maybe because his exile had been where everything began. Deep down he wonders if there’s a part of him who misses the simplistic life he had here- minus the abuse and manipulation and trauma and minor brainwashing, obviously.

Once filled with ash and debris from where the explosion originated, the depression spanning across two-thirds of the island is now covered in flowers. They're even growing on top of the charred earth, tiny tendrils of green poking through the cracks, blooming petals flowing in the gentle breeze.

The signs of destruction will never be covered up completely, leaving Ranboo with a sense of discomfort. It's an unpleasant reminder that nothing lasts forever while simultaneously serving as proof that, from something old and broken, new things can grow. A circle of life and death, ever repeating in front of his eyes as he continues forward. 

The memories are no longer haunting as he enters the campsite. Tommy joined him once but hasn't been back here since. To him, this place doesn't have the same meaning as to him. This is just another one of Dream’s stains left upon on the server in his eyes.

A couple of times he let Techno accompany him. The two standing shoulder to shoulder watching the rain or greeting the villagers who have begun construction on a new town nearby.

But, this time, Ranboo decided to come alone. It would be his last visit, after all.

He steps past the trapdoor long-closed shut by weeds and flowers heading to the beach. On a small cliffside overlooking the ocean is a stone slab that has been propped up. Ranboo lays down the carrot and flowers he brought along the way and sits down.

“Hey, Ribbit,” Ranboo greets softly. “I think this is a better grave than the last one, yeah? A much better view of the sunset.”

The wind weaves through his hair freeing it from the braid. He tips his head back. “We don’t get a breeze like this up north. It’s crazy how the weather works on this server. I think Tommy wanted to throw a beach party sometime. Did you know summer is coming up? I didn’t.”

He dangles his feet over the edge. The waves come to gently lap along the shore and rocks. “I think this is going to be my last visit,” he confesses. “I think...I think I’m alright now. I think I’ve found what I’ve been looking for. Phil called it closure, I think?”

Ranboo raises a hand. He blocks the sunbeams off squinting past the gaps between his fingers. “And I think it’s about time I move on. Although...I don’t think I’ll ever forget you. Or what happened.”

Slowly, he tugs his gloves off and folds them at his side. Even though he had been revived his claws never returned. A part of his being that Dream forever cut away. He’s been regaining feeling, though, in the tips and has been practicing strengthening his handgrip. “I still haven’t shown the others the book. I don’t know if I ever will. Maybe-”

A stick breaking causes his ears to swivel. Ranboo turns.

Standing nearby is a black-and-white spotted bunny with a pink nose. Oddly enough, the bunny doesn’t run away. It stays in place watching him with curious black eyes.

“Hey, you kinda look like me.” Ranboo chuckles. The bunny tilts its head. As if understanding him, it comes closer. “Aww, you’re kinda cute. You remind me of-”

(“You’re all I ever need,” Ranboo whispers. Ribbit’s chest rises as she sleeps nestled against his neck. Her ears twitch when he pets down her back. “Just you and me.”)

The bunny tries taking the carrot off Ribbit’s grave but is stopped by Ranboo’s hand. “Hey, no. That’s not for you. Here-” he digs through his pockets pulling out some trail mix he brought along for the trip. The rabbit sniffs his hand cautiously before hopping closer. He chuckles. It doesn’t fight as he gently scoops the tiny creature in his arms. “I know a place with better food. I’m sure Techno and Phil are gonna love you.”

The rabbit looks up. There’s a black circle over its right eye. Ranboo smiles.

“I think I’m gonna name you...Ranbun.”

──────────

“We don’t have to do this now if you’re not…if you want to wait or anything.”

Ranboo avoids Techno’s gaze focusing on petting the rabbit on his lap. "I...I understand if you changed your mind..." He swallows nervously. He wishes the floor would swallow him whole. He’d rather be dying than suffer this awkwardness.

He can hear the confusion in Techno's voice when he speaks. "About what?" 

"About...wanting me as a kid. I mean-” Ranboo continues, taking Techno’s silence for him to continue. “I’m a sad excuse for a person. I mean, this all happened because I don't have a backbone! I don’t know how to spell thesaurus correctly and half the time I hate myself and I’m probably depressed. I’ve never been an easy person to get along with and I'm horrible at social interactions and I’d completely understand if you didn’t-” 

"Ranboo.” Ranboo freezes. He promptly shuts his mouth. “Listen to me, I love you. There's no changin' that.” 

“...what..?” He whispers, breathless. A chair scrapes against the ground a million miles away.

“I love you, Ranboo,” Techno continued. A hand comes to stroke away the hair at Ranboo’s temple. A movement so familiar and so special to them it tugs at his heartstrings. “I love you so much that every time I think of you my chest aches. I love you so much that I want to call you son and I want you to be able to call me dad and do all that cheesy shit I always made fun of Phil for. I love you so much that I want to wake up early and make breakfast for you, kid. I love you so much that I would willingly go through every single goddamn torture method in existence just to see you smile.”

Ranboo was crying, but it wasn't sad like all the other times he’d cried had. This was good crying. This was worth it. Techno pulls him into a loose hug chuckling at how tightly Ranboo clings to him. “You really need to stop crying at everything I say. To be honest, we don’t need papers but if we wanna make shit official Phil said he’d help and-”

“I love you too,” he mumbles against Techno’s shoulder. He feels the man stiffen. Ranboo curls further into his self-designated place in Techno’s arms. “...it’s gonna be weird calling you dad.”

“You’ve already said it like twice, kid.”

“It was an emotional moment! You know I’m sensitive!” Techno starts laughing and, soon, Ranboo laughs as well.

──────────

One night before dinner Ranboo pauses in front of the mirror, half-dressed with his torso exposed.

Ranboo never realized how much he hated looking at his reflection until Tubbo had pointed out his bedroom had no mirrors. Not much has seemingly changed since the last time he looked in a mirror. His skin is still as pale as ever- the left a somewhat dangerous shade of white that crumbles easily under even the slightest hint of sunlight and the right a dull grey that looks more like ash than the bold ebony skin of an enderian. The scars he’s picked up from exile stand out, and though one day they might fade away completely, are raised lines of pink that no child should carry. His bones stand out sharply under his skin, but not as sharp as when he had arrived.

Has he put on weight?

Even after all these months, Ranboo struggles with food, and he’d been sure that despite the others’ best efforts, he wasn’t actually making much progress when it came to putting back on the weight he’d lost from exile. His hair spills across his shoulder in the clumsy braid he’s been practicing under Phil’s instruction. Ranboo taps his cheeks. The tear scars have begun fading no longer raw and ready to burst open and bleed at any moment.

Ranboo raises his gaze and smiles at his reflection.

He’s a different person now. He’s still healing, but he isn’t alone. It’s all about the little things. It’s progress- baby steps.

He grabs his shirt upon hearing a commotion from the kitchen where everyone is gathered. Ranboo climbs the ladder and heads out of the basement, ducking when a spoonful of mashed potatoes goes flying overhead.

“Sorry, boss man!” Tubbo shouts mid-laugh. He’s standing in the kitchen beside Tommy who is trying to mash the potatoes with his fists. Niki and Techno are at the stove working hand in hand, as if they were in sync with each other, wearing matching frilly aprons as they prepare the main meal. Phil and Ghostbur are setting the table. When the latter spots Ranboo he breaks out into a blinding smile.

“Ranboo! There’s my favorite nephew!” He cries. Ranboo chuckles as the ghost comes to hug his leg.

“He’s your only nephew.” Techno points out. He greets Ranboo with a dip of the head before returning to the food.

“That’s why he’s my favorite!” Ghostbur says with puffed cheeks, Friend licking Ranboo’s hand in greeting. “How are you feeling, Boo? Better? Do you need some blue?”

“No, I’m alright. But thank you. How about I help you set the table with Philza?”

It takes a while with how chaotic the kitchen is before dinner is finished and everyone is settled. Ranboo stares at his plate only half-listening to the different conversations being held. Not that long ago he was eating dinner alone in a dingy apartment on Hypixel planning on how to survive off what he earned from that day’s games. Sometimes, in the dead of night, Ranboo wonders if he made the right choices. That maybe there could have been a better way of doing things- that he could’ve stopped things before they happened.

Then he remembers that the world keeps on moving. That, eventually, things will go south again and there will be another darkness threatening his happiness. The world turns, quickly, and there are always hard decisions to be made. One day the lights will dim, the carnival that is life will come to an end, he’ll be back in that endless ocean with only his memories, and that’s alright. Slowly, Ranboo has made peace with it. He's realized there's no point dwelling on the past.

If Ranboo has learned anything, it’s that he has to value the little things rather than trying to see the big pictures. It’s that he’s not the hero of everyone’s story and that it’s alright to run away. He knows now that sometimes he’s allowed to run away. What matters is that he comes back- not when. What matters is knowing there will always be people waiting for him.

At the end of the day, he’s found that he’s proud of himself. For surviving. For coming this far. For living.

“Hey, Ranboo!” Tubbo calls from the other end of the two tables that had been pressed together. The red-eyed crow on Phil's shoulder tilts her head in mirth. “Wanna come to Snowchester with Tommy and me next week? I wanna show you what I’ve been building!”

“That better not be a new nation,” Techno warns lightly to his side. Ranboo knows there is no real threat behind his words, and he cracks a smile when he sees Tubbo tense up. “And how do you know we don’t have things planned?”

“You can’t just hog Ranboo to yourselves!” Tommy protests causing Phil to burst out laughing and Niki to roll her eyes. Ghostbur sneaks Friend and Steve food from the table, and gives him a little wave when Ranboo catches him. “Just because you’re his dad- don’t give me that look! Phil showed me the papers!”

Techno shoots a glare at Phil who promptly loses face and doubles over laughing. “Phil!”

Ranboo watches them fondly.

He has a new family now. One that he’s built itself. It’s not perfect, and there will be fights that may break out, but it’s his.

The world may turn quickly, but that’s alright. No matter what may happen in the future, he’s made his decision long ago.

He chooses them.