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Dream hadn’t been sleeping well. He never really did before going to the prison but after breaking out with the help of the syndicate Wilbur can comfortably say that it hasn’t gotten any better. If anything it is worse. Much worse. Dream can’t take the same things he used to.
Before back during L’manberg and the peace times before it, back in Pogtopia, Dream had been able to sleep. He didn’t do it often but he did still sleep. Wilbur knew better than most probably. During the war things had been stressful for everyone but at the end he still respected Dream. He still admired his skill and his fierceness when fighting for his land. Wilbur had liked Dream. Maybe it was why he noticed when the other would seem more tired than normal or caught sight of the times that Dream wasn’t acting to his fullest. When he seemed quieter than he usually did.
He remembers after Dream revealed his disliking of Schlatt; remembers pulling him off to the side in the ravine and asking him more about it. He remembered how the two of them had bonded after he became his vassal. He remembered how much they used to talk to each other. How much they used to bond with one another. How much they relied on each other. Dream wasn’t the best at taking care of himself but he was the best at taking care of others he cared for. Wilbur being his vassal came in handy. A few times he’d snuck to Manberg only to be nearly taken out. He knew those perfectly timed interventions from Dream weren’t coincidence. The masked man looked out for him. He provided for him. So Wilbur, in turn, made sure there was an area for Dream to be able to relax. He managed to get Dream to trust him enough to sleep. A special area of Pogtopia split to the side for him when he would come to visit. It wasn’t much but it was appreciated by the leader of the SMP.
Dream had handled a lot. He had seen more than most could attest to. His skill and his power rivaled by next to no one. Not that he would ever call Technoblade a no one. Wilbur knew how Dream would wrap himself into his blankets. Knew how he would stretch beneath them and force his body to relax. He knew how Dream would relax completely into the bed when he slept. How his body would become completely pliant. One wrong move would wake him up instantly. His danger radar never going away and never trusting anyone.
All of that, and yet after the prison it felt like it only got worse. Wilbur had known a bit about the syndicate from Dream reviving him. He’d gained information from the other man. Wilbur being filled in so he knew where to go to help him. Dream, a missing member of an underground organization designed to destroy governments. At first Wilbur had wanted to laugh. Dream, the named tyrant of the SMP being marked to destroy governments. But then he thought about it for a little. Dream in actuality had never been a tyrant. He had given them all the freedom they could have desired. L’manberg had more laws than Dream ever did. All Dream had done was try to prevent his home from being split apart. Governments had brought Dream nothing but pain. It made sense, really, why he wanted to destroy them.
Wilbur had known a little. He’d known to go to Phil. He’d known to stay near the syndicate and to wait until the time to help became clear. He never expected Phil slamming the door open with a haggard looking Technoblade in tow. He hadn’t expected Techno’s outrage when told he couldn’t destroy the prison to bedrock. He hadn’t expected to find out Dream was being tortured.
Wilbur hadn’t let go of that fact. He heard it once and he was asking for information. His cover be damned. His work to hide his knowledge of the syndicate didn’t matter. Dream, his hero, his savior , was being tortured. Dream had saved him time and time again and it was about time Wilbur repay that. He was still Dream’s vassal. Dream was still his lord. Wilbur was willing to do anything to protect him. Dream pulled him from hell, he was more than prepared to throw away everything to pull him from his own.
Phil was the one who called the meeting. Ranboo and Niki came as soon as they were in a safe area to be summoned. The meeting was tense and Wilbur didn’t miss the galre Niki shot his way. Nor did he miss the concerned glance Ranboo gave him. He didn’t care about that. He could deal with those issues at another time. Dream needed him.
The day they’d pulled Dream from prison was horrible. Explosions rang in every direction. Blood was shed in nearly every path. Wilbur didn’t even have time to enjoy any of the chaos that was there. He couldn’t afford to lose the time. Not when he and Phil were the only two with enough medical knowledge and care for Dream to help. The cell had been horrible. Blood dripped off the walls and the ceiling. Rotting potatoes piled in the corner. It was hard to imagine that this was the place Techno had been trapped in not long ago. Hard to think that this was the place Dream was meant to spend his forever in.
Sure, Dream had done bad things. But all of them had. No one on this server was innocent, Dream was just the only one who paid.
Wilbur pulled from his reminiscing when he heard the bed shift in front of him. Dream’s pale face scrunched in pain, darkened hair falling into his face because he had yet to let any of them close enough to cut it. The only two he seemed to be okay with were Techno and Wilbur. To see the man he cared for so deeply in such a state broke Wilbur’s heart in more ways than one. Dream used to relax when he slept. Now he gripped at the sheets and trembled beneath them. His body never relaxed, it never calmed. He never seemed to breathe without care. His breathing never fully evened out. When he saw he wasn’t waking Wilbur went back to his thinking. It was the least he could do for Dream. He could attempt to imagine the horrors he’d faced in his hell. Dream knew all about Wilbur’s limbo, understanding had helped him greatly on that train back to life. He wanted Dream to meet the same thing. However much he could.
The cell had been disgusting for a lack of a better term. The day they pulled Dream they’d found him passed out in the back of the cell. His body half slumped into his chest like he’d been trying to reach for something. He was covered in injuries. It was easier to point out what skin wasn’t marred in some way by the prison than not. It was easier to point it out because it was next to none. Dream was so covered in scars, so covered in bruises and cuts and brands. He looked like someone had tried to take him apart piece by bloody piece and it made the father and son rushing to help him almost sick. Dream had done things, yes, but no one deserved this.
They’d found him after what looked like a fresh torture session. Dream’s voice had scared them when he’d woke up but his words made Wilbur ache to join the others in the blood bath outside. Dream called them Sir. Begged and whimpered for the pain to stop. That he didn’t know whatever it was that Quackity demanded from him. Phil had sworn up and down the entire time they worked to treat him. Both of them could put together what it was that Quackity had been so upset about. Having one of your prisoners with all that information just suddenly vanishing was bound to set off alarms. If they had known Dream’s situation before they would have found a different method to test the waters but as it was there was no helping it. Dream had been tortured harsher for information on Techno’s escape. Information that he didn’t have. Information no one believed him with. Dream suffered needlessly at the hands of others. Wilbur’s included.
Wilbur had been the one to turn L’manberg against Dream. Wilbur had been the one who taught Tommy that Dream was a liar and evil. He was the one who guided the initial betrayals. He was the first guilty of isolating and breaking Dream.
He looked at him now. Laying on the bed, sweating, shaking, flinching from horrors locked behind his eyelids. A vassal was meant to protect and serve their lord. But Wilbur had harmed Dream first. He knocked over the first domino that led to torture. He was the one ultimately responsible for his God laying injured in a bed. Dream was nothing but kind to him until Wilbur started to break things. Wilbur taught Tommy all of it. Wilbur led the wars. They called Dream the puppet master but he was never pulling the strings. He simply played his role in the script Wilbur wrote, however unintentional it was. Wilbur intended to fix it now. Dream had suffered more than enough.
A light knock on the door drew his attention away from Dream’s form. They hadn’t wanted to leave him alone in the room. Worried that if he were to wake up on his own in this condition he would panic and do something drastic. With all the information they gained about his mental state from Techno in the prison it wasn’t unlikely. When Phil and Wilbur had finally stabilized Dream enough that the others could see him and the extent of the damage done to him in the prison, Technoblade had told them what all happened. He’d told them how he had needed to pull Dream away from the lava a few times. How he’d been writing almost everything in his diary when his hands were stable enough so that he wouldn’t forget. How he couldn’t look at a potato without nearly throwing up.
“Come in.”
The door opened slowly before Phil poked his head in. Frowning at the sleeping form on the bed. The sheets were strewn around him from clear tossing and turning. Wilbur had tried to tuck him in earlier but it seemed to only distress the blonde by having something over him. No doubt another thing he’d learned to associate with pain in the prison.
“He’s still asleep?”
“More like switching between rest and nightmares. But yes.”
“When he wakes up, message me. I’ve got soup downstairs. Mushroom and carrot, don’t worry. But he needs to eat something. If we can get him out of the room and move a little, that will also be good for him. Tech said he’d need a lot of PT and I want to see where we're at to make a plan while he recovers.”
Wilbur offered him a small nod before the door was closed again. Dream once more flooding his thoughts. His mask had been shattered when they found him. Broken to shards that looked like they’d been used as knives. Wilbur had wanted so desperately to believe that Dream used them to fight back against Sam and Quackity but the more he learned and saw of his old friend’s state and some of the wounds that he’d cleaned and bandaged, he wasn’t so sure.
His thoughts blurred to background noise after a little. Dream’s soft uneven breaths served as background sound to the whitenoise that rang through Wilbur’s head. He’d been revived for a while now but he still felt like he could hear the sounds of the train cars gliding against the rails. He lost track of time. Minutes and hours and seconds blurring into one thing through all the time he spent in here. Dream hadn’t left the room since they brought him here. He’d been awake and talked to all of them but it was clear who he was comfortable with and who he wasn’t. Wilbur and Techno were the ones who would switch back and forth the duty of staying by Dream’s bedside. Who knew what he would do if he woke up to one of the others. Ranboo and Niki had been unsure about the whole prison break but decided to trust Technoblade. When they’d carried Dream from the cell both of them agreed it was the right thing to do. Ranboo had become a powerhouse on the battlefield after that. All things considered, Wilbur was fairly impressed by the spectacle. How Ranboo had raised his axe easily against Tommy and Tubbo. No intent to harm either of them but he was pushing them back and keeping them away. If there was a purple tinge to his eyes, who was he to say?
He knew about the enderwalks. Spending all this time with the syndicate and with Ranboo had taught him that there were two sides there. But from what he understood when he spoke to the man the enderwalk was just him with all of his memories intact. It was just Ranboo but one with more of a stance than the other half.
A high pitched whine from the bed immediately pulled Wilbur from his thoughts. He turned to see Dream curling in on himself tighter than before. His hands balling into the sheets and tugging on them slightly. His face scrunched up in pain while he tried to struggle against bonds that weren’t there.
“Please..”
His voice was still hoarse. Damaged from the rare usage and screaming. The lack of clean water or anything mildly cool doing nothing to treat it after the pain his throat endured.
“Please I’ll be good...Please no..”
Tears began leaking from his eyes steadily. Wilbur was no stranger to nightmares. No one in the syndicate was. But it still wasn’t something any of them liked to see. Especially on the people they cared about. Wilbur carefully moved closer to the bed. One hand laying gently over Dream’s and rubbing circles into the back of his hand to try to make him ease up his grip. The other rested lightly against his head and carefully pushed back his hair. He knew better than to run his fingers through it. Knew that would only set Dream off further by making him think someone was going to grab his hair and pull him or throw him. Light touches like this were the only things that seemed to help him so far.
“Please Sir, I’m sorry...So sorry…”
Dream’s sob muffled into the pillow but it still broke Wilbur’s heart. If he had known what Quackity would become he would have ended him right along with Schlatt. He was foolish to believe it was Schlatt pulling every string and Quackity was just a happy person to have power. He should have seen the signs of early corruption. Should have slaughtered him before it got to this point. Wilbur was already a monster. He didn’t mind if he ended things earlier if he would have saved Dream from experiencing this.
Dream’s pleading turned to incoherent babbling not long after. He was growing hysterical with every passing moment. The tears streamed down his face faster every second and while Wilbur was loath to wake him up when his body so desperately needed rest, this wasn’t rest. This was suffering. He moved his hand from Dream’s hair to his shoulder, gently rocking him to try to pull him from the hell within his head.
“Dream, you’re safe. You aren’t there. They can’t hurt you anymore.”
Quackity and Sam had both lost canon lives during the breakout. Vengeance was a large part of Technoblade’s vow. He would return whatever was given, and he had given Dream his word. There was no way they would have been granted any form of mercy once they began hurting Dream. There was no excuse for their treatment of him. When others had caught sight of the injured blonde cradled in Wilbur’s arms they had responded. Some fought harder to get him back into the cell, others with common sense realized there was no way to injure him like that in a prison break. They were the ones who switched to either help the syndicate in guarding the escape or leave the fight entirely and let whatever happened happen.
His attempts at comfort only seemed to distress Dream further. The smaller man flinched at the contact and cried out into his pillow. Wilbur could hear footsteps outside the door from one of the others but he needed them to not come in right now. He couldn’t afford a distraction. Not when Dream needed him like this.
“Dream I promise. You’re safe. No one will hurt you here. Open your eyes.”
“S-sir I-”
He broke into another whine. Curling in on himself in a way that looked painful. Whatever torment his mind assaulted him with it was something Wilbur hoped no one ever would have ever needed to experience. His comfort was rejected. He knew already that he would be forced to wait it out but that didn’t make him any less miserable about the situation. Dream deserved better. Dream always deserved better. But he would still have to wait it out.
Dream’s breathing grew progressively louder and more uneven, his body trying to fight against a threat that wasn’t there. It went on for however long. Wilbur thought it felt like years but he knew that wasn’t possible. He’d spent long enough in the dark for years to know that time’s perception was often flawed by individuals.
“Please..Please please no. No. No stop please! ”
Green eyes snapped open as the cry left his mouth. Dream shot up from his curled position to try to fight against the blurred person in front of him. Sound didn’t register for the first few seconds. Panic overtook all of his senses but then he felt the gentle hand leaving his shoulder. He heard the kind, soft words filling his head.
“Can you hear me? You’re safe, Dream. You’re alright. I’m here. Techno’s right outside the door. No one can hurt you anymore. We’ve got you. It’s alright. Just nod when you can hear me okay? You’re safe.”
Wilbur . Wilbur was safe. Wilbur and Techno didn’t hurt him. They were safe. They were with him. They cared about him still. He hadn’t destroyed them when he destroyed himself and everything else. Quackity hadn’t hurt them. Sam hadn’t hurt them. They were safe. And they kept him safe. He nodded despite the tears that were still falling down his face. Wilbur wouldn’t hurt him. He wouldn’t be hurt for crying. Wilbur deserved to know the truth, even if Dream didn’t feel like talking.
“Good, alright, you need to slow your breathing down okay? Can I touch you?”
He nodded again. Immediately the bed sank down next to him and arms wrapped around his body. Wilbur felt so warm. His hands cupping the back of his head and holding him safely against his chest. Dream couldn’t hold back the tears anymore after that. He let them fall freely and sobbed into Wilbur’s chest. At first he was worried Wilbur would toss him away but he heard the shushing noises above him. Heard Wilbur tell him it was alright. Heard him say to let it all out, to just breathe, that he would be safe there.
It took a while to calm him down again. But when he eventually did, Wilbur didn’t pressure him to do anything. He just continued to hold him safely. Continued to rock them both gently back and forth on the bed and run his hand up and down Dream’s back. He was almost lulled back to sleep from it before Wilbur woke him back up.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
It wasn’t an order, Dream had to remind himself of that from time to time. When one of the syndicate would ask him something it wasn’t a demand for information but something he could answer however he wanted. Including not answering verbally if he didn’t want to. They knew he had some issues with it. Some bad experiences at the beginning of his stay pointed to that loud and clear but since then they said however he chose to communicate was fine. So Dream shook his head lightly against the warmth of Wilbur’s chest. He didn’t want to talk at all right now. His nightmare brought him back to being hit when he spoke out of turn. To being hit for breathing. For not talking when Quackity wanted an answer. The complicated relationship with communication back in the prison.
Wilbur hummed softly, his hand continuing to run soothing patterns over Dream’s back. It was silent for a few more moments before Wilbur spoke again.
“Dream? Do you mind if I ask you something?”
He didn’t. The fear that he would ask about the revive book shot through him instantly but he reminded himself that it was Wilbur he was talking to. Quackity and Sam wouldn’t hold him like this. He was with Wilbur, with Techno, with the syndicate. He wouldn’t be hurt by the questions here. So he shook his head again and Wilbur began.
“It feels like so long ago now. For me I know it was but for you it wasn’t all that long I guess. Do you remember the peace times Dream? The war we had for L’manberg? Pogtopia?”
Dream stayed still against him. It sounded like Wilbur needed to get all of this out. Dream wasn’t really one to talk about crying but he could hear the fogginess in Wilbur’s throat trying to get out.
“I remember how we used to be, sometimes. In limbo I thought about it a lot. How this server used to be before I pulled it apart. I was the one who started the titles against you. I can never make up for what I have caused you. But please. Let me ask you this.”
Dream nearly whined at the loss of warmth when Wilbur pulled away from him. But he cut himself off when he saw Wilbur get off the bed to kneel on the ground in front of him. Dream blinked down at him, not understanding what was happening but curious all the same. The amount of emotions in Wilbur’s eyes stuck him in place.
“Dream,” he began almost breathlessly. “I asked you once all that time ago to be your vassal and you were amazing at being my lord. I ask you now, again. Dream. I am still your vassal. I am your weapon. Your shield. I will not let them hurt you. I will never let anyone harm you. I can bring you whatever you want, anything. Are you willing to be my god once again?”
Dream just stared at him. He didn’t really want anything right now. He just wanted to be at peace. He was done with the wars, done with the fighting and betrayals. He just wanted to rest. He wanted to live. But he wanted Wilbur with him. He wanted to have someone there with him. A lord and his vassal. It sounded like a rank to anyone else but it was a symbol of their bond for Dream and Wilbur. So with fresh tears in his eyes Dream nodded once again. A lord, a god, a vassal, partners, friends. Two traumatized leaders who’ve been through too much. Whatever you wanted to call them, they would face the future and their healing together.