Chapter Text
They promised they would come. No correction - Dream assumed they would come.
In his eyes, they had made a promise all those months ago, well, actually a year. Exactly a year ago. 24 / 4 / 20.
The day they had travelled to the SMP. Back then it was just a landscape, no Tommy, no Tubbo, nothing. Just him and his two best friends. They had set up a small campsite quickly by the giant lake, which later housed the Community House, and planned for the future they would hope to enrol. It really meant nothing at the time, they were at the end of the day messing about, but with the course of direction Dream hoped that at least they were being truthful about one thing.
'Look George. Everything the light touches is our kingdom...' Dream places a guiding hand on George as they make their way up to the clearing. A broken path to the highest current point on the server - one that overlooked every valued build and ever citizen. 'A king's time as a ruler rises and falls like the sun...'
They both come to a stop as light washes over them, beams glistening over the break in the trees. From his side, the brunette smirks taking in the view. Miles laid out in front of them and all of it belonging to the three of them, a kingdom that would stand tall for centuries. The Blonde looks at his friend, hand gripping his shoulder tighter as he breathes a sigh of relief. George would make a brilliant ruler, he had all the makings of one.
'One day, George, the sun will set, and my time will rise with you, as the new king.'
Times had changed, a Kingdom ripped from his grips and a King banished from his throne. It was his fault at the end of the day, if he only stayed satisfied with what they created togthger then maybe his situation would be a lot different now. His rule truly did rise and fall like the sun - he knew it was always going to happen but at the same time he didn't appreciate being thrown into the darkness. He dragged himself down, and his friends - or whatever they called him now.
He had hoped they would have come anyway, even despite all the hardships they went through. One day to be just like old days, one day for bygones to stay bygones - but it comes to a point where a line crossed is one that you can't cross back over.
Dream leaned his head back against the wall, the lava was boring him, this room was boring him. There was nothing for him to do today, like most days of course, but if there was no one coming, no one would mind him sleeping through it. No Quackity or Sam to keep him awake. No visitors had came in such a long time. No Quackity coming was a relief though, he had promised for festivities reasons he wouldn't come, for festivities reasons Dream would be left alone for one day. It pained him the thought of everyone out there celebrating a nation of the Dream SMP that he had created - one that wouldn't even have been here if it weren't for him! And he was stuck alone...
He didn't like when Quackity visited, but at least it was company, for a few hours a day he finally felt liked he existed again. Even if those hours were just filled with constant torture and pain. And then for the hours afterwards he would be paralysed by pain so much that he would just lay. It weren't a routine he partiality liked but at least it helped move the days on, without it there was no way to tell what the days were anymore.
While his ways were less than desirable, Dream held a sort of pride in Quackity, he was the clearest case of losing hope. When the two had first meet, the man was strictly against violence and as suspected Dream had been on his side - he was on any side that didn't include LManburg. But as time wore on and the countries and poltics and hardships wore him down, Quackity was unrecognisable from the figurehead he once knew. Many could say the same about his masked self as well though, he guessed. A madman for violence Q was, but one with unbelievable intelligence, one that knew pain wouldn't be the only factor that bothered the masked man so much. But the inability to do anything, to lay broken for hours on end, unable to move beyond the walls. That what caused Dream the most pain: being confined, not only within Pandora's wall but in himself with his inability to do anything.
It weren't like after the Torture sessions he had the strength to write a book or to at least move his legs around the small cell, much like now he would drag himself to the nearest wall and wait for sleep to overtake him. But being in a place like this, sleep never really came - a plague on his own mind seemed fitting to his worsened state. And even in the rare chances, sleep did arrive it was sorely washed away by feverish nightmares of times that went by.
He closed his eyes anyway, casting his mind back to better times.
Hours later, he awoke with a joint - footsteps were approaching. His tired eyes found their way over to two figures stepping off the platform into his cell, their bodies' silhouetted by the vibrant source of light that encased them. Fear washed over him - had he really slept that long that it was the next day? Or did they decide to come later in that day - a break from partying? The taller one of the pair, he presumed Sam, leaned over to whisper into the other guy's ear. Even if they were talking louder, Dream couldn't hear them, the machinery of the bridge was doing his head in, as well as the constant bubbling and rushing of lava. None the less, they were too far away currently whispering at each other as the bridge had started the journey back to the other side.
He tried to straighten up, pushing his hands against the ground in attempt to not be in the exact position they had previously left him, but with no use he fell back again to the blooded area he leaned against. This will have to do after all. Half of him wants to fake being asleep, maybe if he isn't awake for Quackity, the madman will get bored and be quicker, or maybe no bother at all. But he knows better than this now, Q will just shake him awake, force him to put all attention to their sessions - either way by now he's defiantly noticed the Blonde staring at them both.
Something does catch he eye though about their appearance is Sam's holding a bag, and while he's the Warden they never bring anything more than the three same weapons. Axe, Sword and Shears. He can remember that much even if everything does feel like a blur nowadays.
'Dream?' Quackity' s voice is different - softer and quieter, nothing he's use to hearing, but he decides to say quiet. He doesn't partially won't to anger the people that feed him. Saying quiet, he watches as the pair makes their way over, dropping the bag to his side.
'Mate? You alright?' Sam doesn't sound the same either and since when have they ever been on good terms, well recently anyway. His eyes drops to the floor, sighing before gritting his teeth and clenching his fists to the side. The creeper hybrid lowers down to his level, a hand reaching out towards him as it brushes his hair from his face, 'Can you hear us, Dream?'
They stare at each other for a minute, the closest to silent as it can be, before recognition hits. The distortion of the men's faces melt away, the darkness overlapped with light instead glistening on each of their features. The vision of Sam is slowly replaced with the face of Sapnap, and the other with George.
Dream stifles a cry of pain as a body collides with his, Sapnap wraps his arms around his body pulling him into a hug, while George stands beside. He wants to reach out and pull the brunette into a hug, but tiredness washes over him like a constant curse, as he finds himself falling further into Sapnap's grip. He begs himself to stay awake a bit longer, long enough to greet his two friends, to wrap his arms around. He wished he had the strength for any of that...
But sleep wins.