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Tick tock, tick tock.
The cold obsidian walls of the prison are no longer unfamiliar to him. The heat radiating from the lava that is covering the only entrance to the cell is the only thing that’s keeping him warm throughout the months.
How long has it been? Three months, at best? He had been counting. Scratching the walls each day, marking the days he’s been spending in the vault. Marking each day where there’s no one but him, the coldness of the walls, and the hot, dripping lava from the ceiling that sometimes fell on him, his shoulder had already been burned the first few days he got here. His clothes were tattered, holes in the fabric of his trousers and green sweater, weirdly enough, his mask is still intact. Well, partially. Half of it has tattered, but it’s still in one piece.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
God, he hates that noise.
He really wants to punch it, smash it to the ground, yet he can’t.
Because that’s the only way for him to know how many days had he spent trapped in the vault.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
He covers his ears, hoping to drown out the noise. He had never known how irritating a clock could sound. But months of silence with no other voice but his own, the clock had been louder than it had been.
He turns to the side, facing away from the inanimate yet loud ticking face.
******
Sunlight. The breeze from the wind, laughter from the people he once calls friends. He took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh air of nature. He had always loved forests and the wild.
It’s peaceful. And quiet.
It was home.
“Dream!” A voice calls out. He turns towards Sapnap. His best friend. The black-haired man is in his usual white t-shirt with a fires symbol in front of it, checkered pattern black and white pants, and his iconic white bandanna around his head.
Sapnap was calling him, his hand moving in a motion of telling him to come to him.
He walks toward Sapnap.
“What have you been doing? We were supposed to build the house, remember?” Sapnap asks him, he doesn’t answer only putting his hand over Sapnap’s shoulder while still walking, prompting him to follow. Sapnap rolls his eyes.
“Sapnap, Dream! Where are you?” Another voice, this one has an accent. They both turned towards the direction where the voice came from. Not too far away, a brunette in a light blue shirt and white pants, waving towards them. Him and Sapnap look at each other. Sapnap gave him a knowing grin. They both ran, full force. The hill was too steep to ran through. They could slip if they’re not careful. But, do they care?
No, they don’t.
Dushh! A loud sound was heard when they both tumbled and fell on their blue shirt friend. Dream looks up to see a very pissed off George.
“Seriously!” The brunette stood up, wiping off the dirt that got on his shirt and pants.
“It was Sapnap’s ideas!”
“Me? You ran first!”
“Oh, did I?”
“Alright, enough. Are we gonna build the house or not? I want a place to sleep in tonight.” George asks, obviously demanding an answer.
“There’s plenty of ground that you can sleep on, George.” Sapnap says, his hand gestured to the wilderness around them. George glares at him. Dream wheezed.
“No, we’re not sleeping in the woods again tonight. I nearly died to a monster last night!”
“That sounds like a ‘you’ problem to me. I slept great last night.” Sapnap says, with a proudful tone in his voice, taunting George. George gritted his teeth.
“Guys, break it up. It’s too early to be fighting. Let’s go build the house.” Dream’s finally done laughing. He stood up and started to walk towards the area they cleaned up two days prior. He started walking. Yet his two friends didn’t.
“Guys?” He turned around. His friends are still standing there, not moving a muscle from their spot. They look at him with cold, lifeless eyes.
Tick.
“What are you doing out?” Dream gulps, sweat beading on his forehead. Wait, no. Not now.
Tick.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in prison?” Please. No.
Tick. Tock.
He woke up. A drop of lava fell on his mask. If it wasn’t for the mask being enchanted, his face would’ve been burned.
He was alone again. Alone in the cold prison cell of the Pandora Vault.
He thought about the dream. The dream he wished was real. If it wasn’t for the stupid noise, he would still be sleeping. Still be dreaming about his past life. Still be free and happy with his friends and family. Still be laughing at Sapnap’s and George’s childish banter. Still be sleeping underneath a tree in the forest, the cool breeze would occasionally hit him, the moonlight and stars shines upon him. Most of the times, he doesn’t sleep. His friends would be snoring and sleeping soundly, Sapnap’s usually slightly louder, George would be curled up, taking all the blanket. He knows how much the brunette hate the cold.
He would be on a tree, counting the stars. Studying the constellations. He never knew why, but he had always loved the stars at night. To some, they are like little specks of gold, shining brightly in the night sky, to others, they are just some massive self-luminous celestial bodies of gas that shines bright, far away from the livings on Earth.
To him, they are his friends. His entertainments. The beings that know all of his deepest, darkest secrets. When he was alone, he would stare at the stars. He would talk. Telling them things he had done throughout the day. Telling them stories he heard, telling them knowledge he had learned from his adventures.
Tick. Tock.
People often asks if he’s ever lonely. He wasn’t. The stars were with him every night.
This habit continues even after he met George and Sapnap. The two people he met one night when he was running for his life from a bunch of monsters. The two people that set up a camp nearby and happened to find him running around. The two people that he would later call friends. One who couldn’t see colours properly and one that was born in fire.
To him, they were the brightest stars in his life.
Tick. Tock.
There are no stars in the Pandora Vault.
******
“If you ever escape, I would kill you, Dream. That’s a promise.” And Sapnap doesn’t break promises lightly. He watches as Sapnap leaves the cell, disappearing into the lava river that separates him from the rest of the world. The world that once was his.
He was excited when he saw Sapnap. He was sure that Sapnap saw the sadness in his right green eye that was showing through the tattered mask. He was sure that Sapnap knew his pain in his throat every time he tried to talk. His dirty blonde hair had grown so long, it’s getting into his eyes. Did Sapnap notice that?
Did he notice how bad his condition is?
Tick. Tock.
“Shut up.” He grumbles to no one in particular.
If Sapnap doesn’t want him anymore, it’s fine. If Sapnap doesn’t want to acknowledge him as a friend anymore, that’s fine. If Sapnap wants to kill him if he ever escapes, that’s fine.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
He covers his ears. Frustrated. Betrayed.
He built this land for them. He built the community house for them. He hates building, but George hated the cold more, so he suggested building a house. If it’s for George, he would give him the world if he could.
And the world did he gave.
They found the land after years of travels, George and Sapnap was ecstatic to hear that he wants to build their home there. They started working. Other people that then becomes their best friends came and built their houses. The land that was once barren, now full with buildings, skyscrapers, a group of friends living in peace and harmony. It was it, the Dream SMP. And he was their rightful leader.
They were a one big, happy family.
Tick. Tock.
“Independence or death. We would rather die, then give in and join your SMP.” The brunette with a noticeable British accent speaks, his brown eyes visibly stern towards his face that was covered with a mask. Sapnap, George and Punz were by his side, all in full armour, sword and bow in hand. They were in front of the country that invaded his peaceful land. L’manburg, they call themselves. Lead by Wilbur Soot, a brunette with curly hair and a beanie, his right-hand man, Tommy, a scrawny blonde British boy with bright, fierce blue eyes. And his best friend, Tubbo. The kid with dark brown hair and innocent bright blue eyes.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
They came on his land. They tried to take his home. He fought back. He made a plan. He gathered resources. He blew up the country.
He remembered Tommy yelling and screaming profanities at him. For blowing up, their ‘home’. For blowing up their ‘hopes and dreams’. For acting like a tyrant.
Tick. Tock.
He wasn’t a tyrant. He didn’t choose violence, not on purpose. He wasn’t the one that illegally built a country on someone else’s land. He wasn’t the one that caused chaos and mischief on someone else’s land.
That was all Tommy. He only did what he had to do.
Huh, Tommy.
Even in prison, the childish teen is still on his mind.
The one that started it all.
They fought and fought. The war between his team and the country was longer than any banters his friends ever had. He did so much to keep Tommy under control. To keep everyone under control.
And they were.
Tick Tock.
Oh my god, this thing doesn’t know how to shut up. He grumbles in frustration. All those efforts, and he was sent here.
In this cold, lifeless cell. The only food he got are stacks of raw potatoes. Not even cooked. The only people that would walk in here occasionally is Sam, the prison’s warden. Even then, the cold warden would barely exchange a word with him, last time, he only told him to stop putting his hand in the lava. It’s not his fault it’s exhilarating. He would start small talks. Asking him about different people. About Bad, about Skeppy, about Technoblade, the piglin hybrid that was his rival. The piglin that he actually enjoyed the company of. The Blood for the Blood God. The one that only ever talks about potatoes, Phil and his polar bear, Steve whenever they’re done sparring.
About Phil. The avian that came and killed Wilbur, his own son, after he descended into madness and blew up the country again. The avian that he and Technoblade teamed up with on Doomsday. The day he put an end to the god-forsaken country.
About Tommy, the child that is 'Wilbur's right-hand man'. Has he gotten better? Did he ever talk about Dream? Does he still think about the days of his exile? The times Dream would come, strip him off all his stuff, make him throw it down the hole, before burning it all up. Does he still think about that?
Sam would then walk out without another word.
Tick. Tock.
“Shut up!” He yelled. Loudly, this time. The ticking continues.
******
“You were a monster, Dream.”
“Monster? I tried to be nice, tried to negotiate with you. You pushed me to do this.”
“Well, it’s because you were a tyrant. One wrong move sets you off.”
Tick.
“Tyrant? Me? I only had two rules for you to follow! No stealing, and no griefing! And what did you do? You stole my horse! You burned down my friends’ house as a prank!” Dream punched the wall, anger fuelling in his green eye.
Tock.
“Well, you manipulated Tubbo, to exile me! You made him sent me to someplace far away from my home. You made me feel like I was worthless and not needed! You took all my stuff, and burned it! I worked so hard for them!” Tommy yells. He visits today.
“Well, it was to teach you a lesson.” Dream says, not once did he glance at the scrawny boy, during their conversation.
“A lesson?! You traumatised me! You threatened to kill me every day!”
“We were friends. Well, we could’ve been.” He says, a smile on his face. Sickening, Tommy thought.
Tick. Tock.
“You’re messed up.”
“You already said that.”
“Oh, shut up!”
Heh. Dream snickers. This is why he likes Tommy. He’s entertaining. He may have brought chaos to this land. But he also brought something else, the one thing, that Dream needed to win the war.
Attachments.
Feelings. Friendships. The discs. Tommy’s most prized possessions. The very thing that Dream used to control him. Tommy’s attachment to the discs was what kept him entertaining.
He remembers that time. The final confrontation of the war between him and Tommy. He was winning. He had Tommy and Tubbo in his base, vulnerable, with no protection. He had shown them his plan. The plan he worked on for days and nights. The plan to take over the land once again.
He was going to find and take everyone’s most prized possessions. He even considered to take Skeppy, as that was the only thing Bad cares about.
He was going to kill Tubbo. He remembers the terrified expression on Tommy’s face, begging Tubbo to not go. Begging him to not kill his best friend. He only smiles at the sight, they couldn’t see it, though. It was hidden behind his mask. He only smiles at the delicious sight of Tommy on his knees begging and crying to Tubbo. His smile grew wider at the sight of Tubbo accepting his death. Victory was in his hands.
Tick.
“Sorry, Dream.”
Tock.
“Punz?” No, it can’t be.
Tick.
“But you should’ve paid me more.” Victory was in his hands. But then, it wasn’t.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Everyone ambushed his base. Sapnap was one of them, with a sword and shield in his hands, they were once again on the opposite side of the battlefield. Tommy took the axe and almost swung it to take his life.
“Tommy, I can bring people back to life!” Tommy was stunned.
“Aye?!”
“If I die, death is permanent! If I die, Wilbur’s dead forever.” Tommy stopped. Thinking of his late mentor. Wilbur, he wasn't just a mentor. He was like a brother. He was family. Dream drove him to madness. Tommy looked at Dream, blue staring straight into green.
And here he was. Thrown into the very prison that he helped built. Far away from the land that he owned. Now, he is trapped with the child that ruined his life. It has been a week. The day Tommy came, an explosion happened outside and the prison was put in lockdown.
The blonde had done everything in his power to annoy and irritate Dream.
“You’re pathetic.” The younger spat.
Tick. Tock.
“You’re a pathetic sad old man, that will never amount to anything.” Shut up, he thought. The kid had always had an annoying voice.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
“You deserve to be here. And you’ll be here for the rest of your days for everything you’ve done to me.” This kid doesn’t know when to shut up.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
“Honestly, I don’t believe in your ‘revival book’. Schlatt was lying. He died in front of all of us! I’ve seen his grave, I’ve seen his bones! You can’t bring people back to life! That's not a thing!”
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
“Why don’t you go ask him yourself?!” He saw red. The sound of glass shattering muffled Tommy's cries for help. There was blood on his hands. Was it his? Was it Tommy’s?
It doesn’t matter. It was quiet, and for once he liked it.
He laughed. And laughed, and laughed out loud. He laughed at Tommy’s bloody, hollow and cold, lifeless body on the vault’s floor. He could still hear Tommy’s voice screaming for help. How ironic, the reason he was in here was that so that he couldn’t hurt anyone. Yet, Tommy died with his bare hands. He laughed at the boy’s stupidity for ever coming to him again.
Sam walked in a few days later, the smell of death hit the warden. He brought Tommy out, the poor boy was visibly shaking. After he was revived, he didn't speak to Dream at all. It was only a few days, but in the afterlife, he had died for a few months. Dream gives Tommy a smile before he left.
Oh, did he have a wonderful time.
“You’re a monster.” Sam spats.
I know, Dream thought.
******
The clock is shattered, but it’s still ticking. The smell of Tommy’s blood still lingers around the cell. The splatters of Tommy’s blood when his skull was ripped open was also still there. The pieces of glass when the clock was shattered is also still there. Sam hasn't walked in at all. But that doesn’t bother Dream. Not anymore. He’s now curled up at the corner of the vault, feeling bored now as no one wants to visit him anymore.
“Hello, Dream. Long time no see.” He looks up. With an axe in hand, a half-blind Hispanic man wearing a beanie, that was once a friend appears from the lava.
“Quackity?”
Tick.
“Here’s how things are gonna go, okay? You’re gonna give me the knowledge of that revival book, or...” Quackity says as he laid out his ‘tools’. Dream’s eyes widened in horror.
“We’re gonna have a great time in here, together.” Quackity’s voice was filled sinister tone, his usual twisted, crooked grin plastered on his face.
Tock.
A blood-curling scream was heard from the prison that day. No one cared, not even the warden. Well, it’s not like they could actually hear him, anyway.
The smell of blood continues to linger around the obsidian cell. But this time, it’s not Tommy’s.
And the ticking continues.