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The thud of the body against the cold obsidian walls became almost rhythmic as time went on, shoulders aching, teeth vibrating, feet slipping against the smooth, unwelcoming surface. Cries of sheer horror rang out of a scratchy, unused throat, a sound so primal that it bounced off the walls with vigor, making the room tremble.
“Let me out of here! Let me go!” The voice screamed, his throat red and swollen from his cries. ”I know you can hear me!”
No answer came from the unfriendly prison cell, no voices called back from behind the wall of hot magma. His sobs fell onto deaf ears outside of Pandora, the walls much too thick for sound or person escape from.
The pale man’s fingers bled as they clawed at the wall, his eyes wandering to every nook and cranny in the small cage that had become his home. “You! You creature! You’ve been here once before! Come, help me get out of here!”
Dream looked up, craning his neck as he stared into the black stone above him, decorating his ceiling like a murky, never ending abyss. Tears fell from the blond’s pale green eyes, as he could do nothing but wail. “Get back here! I remember you, you remember me!”
He fell to his knees, his exhaustion catching up to him, as he cried to the sky once more. “You demon, you absolute asshole! I summon you!”
The sky gave no answer. With one final cry of anguish, Dream could feel himself slipping into unconsciousness before his head hit the cold floor.
You summon me? Now that’s hardly a laugh.
Green eyes shot open at the unfamiliar sound, something sounding of a voice echoing from far away. Exhaustion gone, and adrenaline overcoming the man’s weak and shaky limbs, Dream scrambled to his feet, looking for the source of the noise.
He was still in Pandora, no surprise there. No one had magically broken in, no one was coming to save him. Dream rubbed a hand over his face, biting his finger as it trailed past his mouth, perhaps his mind had finally gotten the best of him, grasping for straws of sanity that would only last for so long.
You doubt me that quickly? Pitiful.
Have a little faith.
That voice. It couldn't belong to anyone but It. The voice had haunted Dreams’ nightmares for weeks, he would know the source like the back of his own hand, it had to be It. It was here, and It was angry.
“Show yourself to me, I’m here!” The blond tried, standing in the center of his prison with his arms spread wide. The voice was bouncing off the walls so frequently and dizzily, Dream couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from.
So demanding for such a small thing.
The voice was behind him now, Dream was sure of it. He turned on his heel, only to face the wall of lava, the only glimpse he could get at any travelers from the outside world.
He growled under his breath, his patience had run out, and he was angry and desperate. “Are you going to keep playing mind games with me, asshole? Or are you actually gonna show yourself?!”
A beat of silence without an answer, and Dream snapped. “Show yourself, you coward!” Punching the wall, the prisoners' knuckles bled and ached in agony. The only sound was of Dreams' own heavy breathing, rapid and uneven within the walls of obsidian.
He sobbed, letting his head fall as tears streamed down his face. It had to be real, It had to be here. He couldn't be losing his mind, not yet.
A coward?
Bold word choice for the King of Fear.
And there It was. Hovering just above the ground, sharp, inhuman feet barely visible below the long, billowing robe made of starlight and nightmares. An obscured face hidden by a sickening expression and long, golden hair. Three pairs of wings, one attached at the shoulder blades, the other two hovering just above the pointed ears. Two long, curved horns protruding out from the top of Its head, somehow not grazing against the low ceiling.
Every time Dream blinked, the figure's appearance shifted slightly; some moments his wings multiplied, other moments his face was uncovered, it had him dizzy.
Blinking back into reality, Dream shook his head in an attempt to concentrate. “Y...You. You can get me out of here. You gave us a bell, you got Technoblade out, you need to get me out too!” His words came out more desperate and pleading than he had meant to, but if kneeling for a God would grant his freedom, call him a sinner no more.
It seemed assumed by this, tilting its head at the mortal. Despite Its enormous size, It did not seem to be limited by the physicality of its surroundings, instead, warping the room to Its own liking. It tilted Its head. The bell I granted you, one wish no more. I had no part in your friend's departure.
“Technoblade’s not-” Dream hesitated, wetting his lips before he continued. “Technoblade isn’t my friend.” He corrected quickly. “And there’s no way he could have escaped here on his own. You must have helped him!”
The creature let one of his (many) disembodied hands rest just below his chin in a pondering manner. Escape he did, but my aid he did not have. I have no use for someone like him, he’s hardly a mortal worth my special attention.
Dream swallowed, biting the inside of his cheek as he dared to ask. “T...then who is?”
The one who sleeps is my forever friend…and you; the self-proclaimed ‘god’, the master of death. The God did not dare clarify the details of his first special mortal, and the prisoner was left wondering.
A forever friend, someone who It cares for? “I am the master of death. I can revive people.” Dream fought back stubbornly, trying to avoid Its intimidating and hard gaze lest his legs turn to jelly.
The temperature in the room dropped suddenly, despite the wall of lava surrounding the prison. The god’s steely and pointed gaze was prominent even through his shielded expression. You are not a god, and your arrogance is appalling at best.
Dream scoffed, pretending not to be at all the least terrified. He was not here to be lectured by some Being, he was just wasting time. “Can you get me out of here or not?!” He asked, rather anguished.
The God hummed, humoring the small human staring up at It. And in return, what would I get?
Dream hesitated, before letting out a quiet laugh as he shrugged. “Eh...a good conscience? Peace of mind for helping someone out of the kindness of your heart?”
…
“Well, what do you want?!” Dream questioned, practically at the end of his rope. “You wouldn't show up here unless you wanted to help me! I promise you once I'm out of this hellhole, I’ll get you anything you want!”
Oh, but why wait? What I want...you already have.
It towered over Dream, Its gaze never wandering far. It reached a hand out, and roughly placed the palm of its sharp hand against Dream’s skin. It’s hand was practically ice cold, an extreme but welcome contrast against Dream’s hot body.
The human resisted the urge to lean into Its hand, as well as the urge to pull away. Instead, he stood impassive, trying to appear as calm and neutral as possible. “And what is it that you want from me?”
The Creature‘s feral grin widened to an impossible standard. I want your mind.
Dream physically recoiled, Its cold skin suddenly feeling like fire. His thoughts were racing at a million miles per hour. My mind?! Why does it need my mind?! Is it going to erase my memories or something? Steal my brain to eat it?!
The God's untamed grin turned into something more genuine, as It perused the human’s thoughts. I’m not going to do any of that. Not yet at least, but keep misbehaving and we’ll see.
It was approaching now, so close to Dream’s face to the point where he was pushed back against the wall. It hunched itself over to bring Itself to eye level.
Give me your knowledge about the Revive Book, and I’ll get you out of this prison. Let me borrow your mind, and it shall be free. The God’s many hands surrounded Dream as the two of them were inches away from each other, Its wings extending with a stretch.
Dream’s eyes widened, practically tumbling to the ground as he grasped at Its robes desperately. “Yes. Yes! YES! I accept, it's a deal just please let me out of here!”
The God let out something that seemed to be a laugh, but felt otherworldly to the prisoners' mortal ears. Making a deal with a God is a delicate thing, agreements tenacious and unbreaking. Are you sure-
Dream had completely collapsed to the ground, his strong and stubborn façade crumbling as it gave away to torment and anguish. “Yes, gods yes! Please! I'll do anything I just need to get out of here! I can't be in here any longer, my body is dying, my brain is shattered! I'll do it, I'll shake your hand, I'll make a deal, just get. Me. Out. Of. Here!”
Tears streamed down the prisoner's face and dripped down to the floor and his head hung low. This was it, his one and only chance to finally escape, and he’d be damned if he didn't give it his all and beg.
Very well. Your wish… The God held out one of its many hands extended towards Dream, offering it to seal the deal. Is my Command.
Dream snatched the hand like it was his lifetime, holding it so tightly as though he held the fear it would run away. This was it, his chance at escape, he could be free again! He could do whatever he wanted, he could take back the server! He could make everyone love him, h-
A blinding white, searing pain filed and traveled through Dream’s entire body as he felt hands on his shoulders. He shrieked in pain, letting go of Its hand and he collapsed fully onto his knees, screaming as his body felt like a cutting board. It was loud, a dissonant, screeching, and inhuman melody filling the once quiet room. He pulled at his own clothes, the God’s many hands not leaving his body; Its wings unfurled and extended in a most glorious presentation. It was the worst pain imaginable, more excruciating than any session he had with Quackity; like a heartbreak brought to the physical world. Despite writing in pain, Dream couldn't help but smile, his screams slowly transcending into manic laughter, even as hot tears trailed down his face. If he could handle pain like this, he was unstoppable!
One final hand of the Gods made its way towards Dream, and with one final, gentle touch, the pain ceased; and with that, the prisoner's eyes rolled back into his head, and collapsed into unconsciousness. The noise ceased, and the God disappeared, leaving only an unconscious soul within the prison walls.
---
Dream awoke with a start, his eyes shooting open the moment he realized they had closed unintentionally. He shot up out of his seated position with a start, accidentally hitting his head against a hard surface.
“Ow.” Dream groaned, rubbing his hand over his forehead where he had hit it. Looking up, it took him a second to realize what he had actually bumped into. A low hanging tree branch.
There were no tree branches in Pandora. There was no greenery, no blue sky that was so bright it practically burned to look at. There were no sounds of birds passing overhead, no sound of the wind blowing through the leaves. In the dark, dank prison, there was certainly never the sound of a music disc playing faintly in the background. This could only mean it worked...Dream was out...he was free. He-
“Bossman? You alright?”
Dream turned to his left towards the sound of the voice, and almost screamed. Panicked, jumping practically three feet out of his skin, he startled back, falling out of his seated position off of an elevated surface. In an attempt to scramble to his feet, he knocked into the jukebox as the music came to a record-screeching halt.
Because seated formerly right at his side, leaning forward on a bench with a concerned look in his eyes…was Tubbo.
Tubbo continued staring at him, not in malice, or in fear, but with worry. ”You alright mate? Didja fall asleep? Nightmares again?” He held out his hand to lift the blond off of the ground.
Dream looked at the hand suspiciously, before helping himself off the ground without aid from the young boy. He had no idea what alternate universe he had woken up in that suddenly made Tubbo nice to him, but that was a problem for later.
It took a minute for him to realize he never responded, so after quickly patting the dust off his pants (since when did he wear khakis?), he cleared his throat to respond. “Ah, yeah. Nightmares. Again. Haha.”
His voice sounded weird, though he supposed it was to be expected after not hearing it bounce off the obsidian walls for almost a year.
Tubbo shot him a skeptical and troubled look- well the best he could manage since his hair was covering his eyes. When was the last time he had gotten a haircut? Now his scar from the execution was hardly visible. “You don't sound sure. I thought you've gotten pretty good with handling nightmares recently.”
“Er, it was...worse than usual…” Dream answered, backing away from the teen ever so slightly. He quickly searched his inventory, maybe to see if he had anything to attack with. It was mainly junk, his pockets almost packed full of it; but hidden beneath the trash was an enchanted diamond sword. Yeah, this would work just fine, it didn't seem like Tubbo was armed, and he would be able to take him off guard and surprise him.
Tubbo remained seated, a quiet hum escaping his lips. “Well, alright, if you’re sure.” He turned away, facing the sun setting on the ruins of L’Manberg with a forlorn look on his face. (or at least Dream assumed, again, it was hard to read his expression).
Dream decided that now would be the perfect opportunity to do what he needed to for a long time. Pulling the sword out beneath the rubbish of his pockets, he armed himself, hiding the blade behind his back as he approached Tubbo slowly.
He was now only inches away from the young boy, and with a sick grin, Dream lifted the blade above his head, and lunged it towards his unsuspecting victim with all his might.
“Just know I care about you Tommy.”
He froze.
The blade was inches away from taking off the boy's head, he was inches away from taking the revenge that he oh so deserved, and yet Dream couldn't move.
He couldn't even speak.
“We’ve been through so much together, Tom. You’re my brother, and it hurts me to see you hurting knowing I can't do anything about it.” Tubbo continued, wringing his hands together in guilt as he continued to look away. A gold ring decorated one of his fingers.
Dream lowered his sword slowly, careful not to draw any attention to it and he slid it back into this inventory. His feet were still planted firmly in the ground, and his eyes were wide in shock. The way Tubbo spoke to him...the way he addressed him...
The horned boy in question carried on, hunching his shoulders and he let his hands fall to his sides, balling them into fists. “Me and Ranboo, we’re always here for you, man. I know what Dream did to you is irreversible, and I know that nothing anyone does is going to make up for it, but… I want to try, at the very least.”
Tubbo finally turned back towards the blond, tears evident by the water trickling down his face below the mop of hair obscuring his eyes. “I love you, Tom. And I would do anything for you.”
Dream swallowed, the spell of immobilization broken for a moment as he stumbled backwards. Then, with his wits gathered and his mind cleared, he did what any perfectly sane human would do in his shoes.
He ran.
He could hear Tubbo’s shouting from behind him, getting quieter and quieter and Dream put more distance between them as fast as he could. He was surprised with how quickly he was running, without pain-though he supposed that could be due to the adrenaline coursing through his veins.
He called me Tommy. He spoke to me like I was his friend...why did he think I was him…
Dream wasn't sure where he was running to, his path through a wooded area feeling more like a combination of muscle memory and instinct. Before long he found himself on the shore of a beach, following the curved trail marked by the Prime Path.
Slowly, he made his way to the coastline, his legs wobbly as he almost lost his step, unused to the soft texture of the sand. Just before him in the water was Pandora, his home for so long, and yet it startled him that it took a moment for Dream to recognize it from the outside, no longer trapped behind its thick walls.
He let out a soft laugh, as he stood triumphantly on the other side of those walls, the light of the sun brilliantly shining on his skin in comparison to the dull, harsh shine of the lava wall, his only source of light in his cage.
Peering down into the water, Dream startled himself for a minute, staring at his own reflection like a wild animal. He wasn't allowed a mirror in the prison, for fear he could use the glass to hurt someone; but he was still pretty sure he didn't look as he did now.
Because the face staring at him in the water was not his own.
It was Tommy’s.
When Dream lifted his hand to his face, Tommy’s reflection in the water did the same. When Dream grinned ear to ear, Tommy’s face did the same; the strained smile looking foreign and incorrect on the young boys face.
Dream laughed louder and harder, patting his face, his fingers discovering every inch of his new body, trailing down his forehead all the way to his collarbone. His scars from Quackity’s visits were gone, his skin was no longer bumpy and calloused from injuries. Sure, there were scars on the boys face from his fair share of battles, but they were nothing compared to the gashes that decorated Dream’s face and body.
A fresh start, a new façade, it was as though the gods were really on his side. They approved of his mission to cleanse and rebuild the SMP, to put control back in his hands once again. Dream was alive, he was out of prison, and he had the most dangerous thing of all.
He had a plan.
Somewhere deep inside the prison walls, a voice screamed.
Link to Fanart: There's something wrong with Tommy.