Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

     Protesilaus, the Voice of The Syndicate, speaks first once they are all properly seated. “Thank you all for comin’ here today,” He starts, looking tense, and Lethe knows that this is going to be an interesting meeting, to say the least. “I actually have some news and some stuff I want to talk with you all about today, but first-- Lethe, Nemesis, have either of you noticed anything that we might need to keep an eye on?” 

     Lethe shakes his head; to be honest, he’s been rather preoccupied these past few months, and hasn’t been out and about in the region as much as usual. They turn to Nemesis, who sits up straight to answer. “I haven’t noticed anything. Eret, the King, is being very fair and democratic. Kinoko Kingdom is getting a bit land-hungry and pushing at their borders, but since Quackity isn't with them to be their mouthpiece they’re fairly easy to negotiate with and I don’t see it becoming a problem,” Nemesis reports. 

Protesilaus chuckles a little. “That’s good, that’s good-- that’s actually a very nice segue into my own topic.”

“How do you guys feel about Dream?” Protesilaus asks, which is actually rather confusing to Lethe because he does not understand how that relates to Quackity, actually. 

     “Neutral,” Zephyrus answers almost coldly, his first words of the night, “I could care less about him. I’ve, ah, heard some things through the grapevine about his treatment of a certain gremlin kid that we all hate to love. He’s sketchy, but I’m not against working with him.” 

Nemesis is staring at Protesilaus with narrowed eyes, calculating something. “He was a tyrant who fought against L’Manberg and restricted their freedom-- or so Wilbur said,” She says flatly. Zephyrus looks uncomfortable. 

“Do you two… have history?” Protesilaus asks-- “You and Wilbur, I mean.” Nemesis sighs the most world-weary sigh Lethe has ever heard. 

“It’s complicated,” She replies. Protesilaus nods and moves on.

“Lethe? Your thoughts on Dream?” 

     Lethe thinks as hard as he can; tries to remember. The rest of The Syndicate is patient with him. “Also complicated, unfortunately,” Lethe answers. There’s a collective groan mixed with chuckles. Understandable! “When I’m… remembering things, properly remembering everything, I think I’m on good terms with him actually? But uh, like right now? I hate him for what he’s done to-- to like Zephyrus said, that certain gremlin and a friend of his. He’s done some bad things.” Zephyrus nods, seeming to understand a little bit better than the other two, who look rather confused. Protesilaus shrugs. 

“Alright, well, here’s another question for you all, and this one’s a heavy hitter: How do you guys feel about torture? ”

     Nemesis narrows her eyes almost angrily, likely thinking Protesilaus is proposing it, but Lethe is putting one and two and three together about Protesilaus’s “segue” and painting a gruesome picture. His head buzzes a bit with anger and something else. Memory? He’s not sure it matters, because if his assumption is right-- 

“I hope,” Nemesis pipes up with a fire underneath her voice, “That you aren’t suggesting we commit such an act.” 

Protesilaus looks uncomfortable. “No, no, I’m not. Uh-- Dream. He’s in prison y’know? An institution wherein one or two individuals hold all the power. I’m not sure I’m in favor of that particular system, if you know what I mean. Because it so happens that Sam-- that would be The Warden-- is only letting one visitor in. Quackity. They’re in cahoots.” Everyone is listening intently now, leaning in. Secrets, gossip-- what’s the difference really? Except of course that if it’s an injustice, they will right it.

     “Y’see, I actually visited the prison-- hah! “Visited”-- to see Dream. Because I owe him a favor, y’know. And Quackity and Sam actually trapped me in there with him-- luckily Zephyrus… was there to activate my stasis chamber.” Lethe definitely heard a mumbled “though he was LATE by two WEEKS” in there, and had to suppress a small laugh. His friend had been trapped. That was of no small concern. 

     “I had enough time to gather information though. In that time I was given information on Sam and Quackity, as well as learning that uh. How to put this nicely. Dream is actually bein’ tortured in there. Like, they are actively torturing him to try and get the revival book or whatever. You don’t even wanna know the details of the weapons-- or should I say tools-- that they’re usin’ on him.” 

     The silence that follows this information is deafening, the room feeling cold as the ice it was housed under, the information itself chilling Nemesis and Lethe to the bone. Zephyrus, it seems, got a heads-up on this particular part, because he doesn’t seem surprised.

     “It would be Quackity, wouldn’t it?” Zephyrus says, an air of anger surrounding him that Lethe’s not sure he’s ever seen before. It makes him look dangerous. It makes him a good ally. (Lethe coughs, a little embarrassed. It makes him proud that Zephyrus is his dad, too, but y’know.) “That’s the little weasel that tried to execute you,” He says with disdain. 

Nemesis pipes up, confused. “I thought President Tubbo was the one who did that.” 

     Protesilaus shook his head. “That was actually a misunderstandin’, believe it or not. Well. Not quite but-- Quackity was pulling the strings because Tubbo was all worked up and stressed out due to Tommy’s exile. Which apparently Dream forced by the way but that’s-- that doesn’t really mean he deserves torture does it?” They all think about it for a bit. It’s almost funny, a room of powerful individuals pondering the ethics of torture with the expression of highschoolers hearing the school’s best gossip.

     “No,” Lethe speaks up, and feels uncomfortable when all eyes turn to him but-- he has to speak his heart. He is safe, he will be heard, they will appreciate his input. “It doesn’t. Dream deserves prison-- he’s done plenty enough bad things to keep him there for a lifetime, that much I know-- but torture? That’s too far. Even for Quackity, that’s… I didn’t think he was capable of that. ” He shakes his head. 

     Nemesis, to his surprise, speaks next. “I agree,” She says with a sharp nod. “And he’s basically in solitary confinement, right? My-- my former partner used to do a lot of psychology work. That’s torture in and of itself. He deserves to be treated like a human, even if he doesn’t deserve forgiveness and rehabilitation isn’t possible.” 

“Solitary confinement except for his torturer, yeah,” Zephyrus adds with a dark cackle. 

     But… that begs a question that Lethe is loathe to ask, but feels he needs to. “Alright, so if that’s the case-- what exactly can we do about it? And if we do get him out, what do we do with him? We can’t exactly let him run around being all evil again,” Lethe points out, and there’s a murmur of agreement from around the table that Lethe feels rather proud about. 

     “We’ll workshop it,” Zephyrus says after a few minutes of collective thinking. “Protesilaus and I together have worked with Dream before, and together we can probably beat him in a fight, especially geared up the way we are.”

“But that doesn’t protect him from Tommy,” Protesilaus adds, “Or his protective older brother, for that matter.” 

Zephyrus chimes in: “Or from Quackity.” 

     Protesilaus pinches the bridge of his snout and thinks some more. Nemesis raises her head from where she had been sat staring at the table, as if struck by an idea. “I could contact my old partner and see if she would be willing to do rehabilitative therapy, or if she knows anybody who might be able to if not.” 

Protesilaus’s face lights up. “Oooh that’s genius!” Lethe isn’t sure, but he swears Nemesis blushes a little in pride. Good for her. She deserves it.

     “Hm,” Zephyrus says, frowning, “What do you say we reconvene in a week? See what we can come up with-- Nemesis, you’re in charge of figuring out mental health stuff. Protesilaus will take care of the… plan. I’ll work out safety. Lethe, you’re gonna need to test the waters; mainly looking for the ripple effect. Arguably you’ve got the toughest job. If you need to back out though, just let us know mate, alright? It’ll be tougher a man down but this is not a group that peer pressures.” 

Lethe just nods. “Don’t worry, I trust you, and I know I’m good to back out any time. I’ll… I have to have some conversations first. I’ll let you know.”

Protesilaus frowns at him a little. “No conversations involving our meetings, right?” 

     Lethe shakes his head solemnly. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I just have to-- I have to make sure my family is safe.” Zephyrus’s face softens at that, and Protesilaus nods in understanding-- though Nemesis is still looking at him strangely. “I promise I won’t jeopardize the mission here to do that,” He adds, and Nemesis relaxes a little. Lethe understands her, though, he does-- she’s been betrayed before. Wilbur’s history is riddled with mistakes and hurt. And she’s one of the people that experienced it first-hand. 

“I think that covers everything, then,” Protesilaus says, as if surprised that things went so smoothly-- he claps his hands together. “Meeting adjourned!”

Chapter Text

     Ranboo had planned on waiting until Michael was tucked away safe and sound in his bedroom to speak with Tubbo, expecting to first gather his nerve. But as soon as the door was shut, soft and quiet, Tubbo turned to him. “ Now will you tell me what’s up? You’ve had a look about you all day.” 

     Ranboo startled at that. “A look? What do you mean, a ‘look’?” 

     Tubbo glowered at him. “You know exactly what I mean. Spill it.” 

     Ranboo sighed. At least he’d semi-formulated a speech for this ahead of time. “Tubbo, there’s something I need to speak with you about,” He started, which prompted an immediate “I KNEW IT!” from Tubbo. They both froze, listening and desperately hoping Michael hadn’t woken up from that. After a few moments of holding their breath, they both sighed in relief. 

     “I think he must be sleeping on his good ear again,” Ranboo commented. 

     Tubbo looked thoughtful. “I hope his prosthetic isn’t bothering him to sleep on. We might have to get it adjusted again soon-- he’s been growing fast.” 

     Ranboo nodded decisively before Tubbo suddenly blinked and angrily punched Ranboo on the arm. “Hey! What was that for?” Ranboo asked, pouting. 

     “You distracted me,” Tubbo said with a huff. 

     “ You’re the one who shouted and nearly woke Michael,” Ranboo retorted in an equally huffy tone. Still. Ranboo took Tubbo’s hand and headed upstairs to their bedroom, a sort of somber vibe about him that he was almost certain Tubbo was picking up on. 

     Sure enough-- “Nobody’s died, have they? Oh god,” Tubbo asked, trying to sus out what was going on before Ranboo told him. Ranboo tried desperately to push down the affection he felt in that moment at Tubbo’s puzzle-solving brain, because he knew if it was close to the surface it’d be more likely to hurt him when this conversation inevitably turned sideways. 

     “Nobody’s died, no,” He answered instead, and the quiet look of concern that Tubbo wore almost matched Ranboo’s somber one.

     When they had reached their bedroom and the door had been shut, both certain now that Michael wouldn’t wake, Ranboo took both of Tubbo’s hands in his own and looked into his eyes. One of the only people whose gaze didn’t hurt, the intensity a normal part of love rather than harsh and overly-intimate. “It’s not your first fear, or even something you’d expect, but it’s about Dream.” Ranboo says it as gently and honestly as he can. 

     Tubbo’s breath catches in worry. “I’m listening,” is all he replies. Ranboo has to turn away for a moment before turning back to Tubbo, both of them still standing in the same intimately domestic way they had been, despite the tension and fear and worry in the air. Even now, they held on to one another for comfort.

     “Do you, um--” Ranboo’s breath hitches a bit as his anxiety spikes at what’s about to be the world’s stupidest question. “Do you know about the concept of plausible deniability?” He asks, feeling ridiculous even as he does so. Surely Tubbo will want to know more. Surely this will break it all. 

     “I understand and am familiar with the concept, yes,” Tubbo replies cautiously. “Does this have to do with that secret organization that definitely doesn’t exist and you definitely aren’t a part of?” He continues in a flat tone. Ranboo freezes. Tubbo lets out a dark chuckle. “ Ha-hah! Yeah, don’t worry. I won’t tell. I’ll let you do your thing.” The smile he gives Ranboo seems genuine, though, so-- maybe it’s alright? Maybe it’ll be alright. Ranboo decides to continue, squeezing Tubbo’s hand a little for comfort. Tubbo returns the gesture, equally nervous but far less willing to admit it.

     “So, I said, I said it was about Dream and not how you think right?” Ranboo holds his breath until Tubbo nods, just to make sure that he’s still following and understanding. Okay. Good, that was good. That was alright. “He’s uh. He’s being tortured. Physically. And mentally too obviously because that prison setup is just horrible but-- but physically like. With weapons and. Not -weapons.” 

     Tubbo doesn’t say anything, but his grip suddenly becomes white-knuckled and somewhat painful. “Oh.” He says. Ranboo swallows and nods, waiting for Tubbo to continue. 

     “That’s-- oh. I don’t think that… I mean my first impulse is to say ‘good, fuck the bastard’, but… no wait because when you think about it! What does that say about Sam? Oh god. Surely Sam isn’t?” And ohhh god there he is, there’s the beautiful boy that Ranboo fell in love with, puzzle-breaking, problem-solving Tubbo, gears in his mind turning ten levels ahead of anyone else. Ranboo’s heart aches, a combination of love and worry about where this love will lead him if it lasts the night at all.

     “Ranboo, tell me that Sam’s not a part of it,” Tubbo asks earnestly, desperately, and Ranboo wishes he didn’t know the truth. 

     “I don’t know,” Ranboo answers as honestly as he can, “If Sam is doing it. But he’s allowing it either way.” Tubbo’s hands slip out of Ranboo’s grasp, and he starts pacing the room, brain firing a million times per second, thinking and thinking. Ranboo almost wishes he hadn’t involved Tubbo at all, hadn’t told him-- but his husband deserves to know. It’s going to affect him. It’s going to affect him. 

     Tubbo freezes mid-pace, solid as a stone, still as a statue. “Big Q,” he says. “He’s a power-hungry bastard as it is. Him and Sam were working on something together big and they’d want leverage. Who better to learn from than the one person who nearly achieved it all?”

     “ Tubbo, ” Ranboo warns, and he doesn’t recognize the tone that comes out of his own mouth. “I know you’re going to go crazy piecing this over, but that’s not why I told you this.” 

     Tubbo glares at Ranboo, pissed off in a way Ranboo has only seen a few times before. Hostile. Like New L’Manberg when nothing was under his control despite everything being so in name. But Tubbo… holds his tongue. Diplomat to his core, he waits to hear Ranboo out. 

     “I want to keep my family safe,” Ranboo explains, “You and Michael, and also Tommy, and Wilbur. I…” Ranboo feels an urge crawling under his skin, a fuzzying distress that makes him want to scream in a language no human understands. He fights it. Breathes deep, despite the places in the past that those feelings send him to. He is here, he is now, he is in his bedroom with his husband discussing something important.

     “I choose people, not sides. That’s always--” He lets out a bitter laugh-- “That’s always been the case, wherever it’s led me. But I do still have morals, and…” He’s actually not sure how he can tell Tubbo without outright telling him. He’s not sure he can go through with it. He wouldn’t help them, if Tubbo told him flat-out not to. Does he know that? Does he know how much he means to Ranboo? Ranboo’s been staring off into space for a long time without realizing, but is startled back to his presence in the room when Tubbo touches his arm. He’s genuinely surprised at the expression on Tubbo’s face. It’s not hostile, it’s not disgust, it’s not betrayal. It just is. It’s just Tubbo.

     “I think I get it,” he says. “Do what you gotta do, boss-man. But I hope to god you know what you’re doing-- or I’ll actually kill you myself.” Tubbo ends his sentence bluntly and adds a dark chuckle, a sign that he’s not messing around. 

     Ranboo nods, choked up, face burning. “You’d better. If I mess up that badly, you’d better,” is all he can manage to get out before the weight of the conversation finally hits him full-force and he collapses, sobbing in relief at Tubbo’s feet. 

     Tubbo instantly kneels to hold him, shushing him and desperately (or rather, aggressively) wiping away the tears with his sleeve before they can do too much damage to Ranboo’s enderman skin. Stopping crying was, in fact, significantly easier to do once Ranboo realized that Tubbo’s “heartfelt” shushing consisted of muttering things like “shut up, stop crying, it’s alright, you’re okay, you’re a big boy, just shut up already my god, look what you’ve done you’re melting,” and in general consisted of more insults than affirmations. It was jarring and honestly hilarious.

     “Why is that your go-to phrase?” Ranboo manages to choke out, half in hysterics, “You tell a crying person to just shut up? ” 

     A sheepish grin spreads across Tubbo’s face. “Admittedly, I’m not the most empathetic person,” He starts with a snicker-- “But hey it worked! It worked! In my defense, it worked.” 

     Ranboo laughs. “True! Okay that’s, you do have a point. You have a point.” 

     Tubbo nods sagely. “See, I’m a genius. I know what I’m doing, I do.” 

     They both laugh a little as Ranboo calms down, and he notices they’re still kneeled on the floor. Thank goodness for carpets. “Seriously though,” Tubbo adds, once he sees Ranboo is back to himself, “I’ll kill you if something happens to us because of that.” 

     Ranboo nods. “I would want you to. Genuinely, I expect that and would want you to.” 

     Tubbo almost looks unsure at that reassurance, but nods back. “Right. It’s settled then. Just keep me out of it and…” He sighs. “I don’t know, I’ll try to come up with backup plans upon backup plans.”

     Tubbo stands up and hauls Ranboo up with him, and despite his noodly limbs Tubbo’s strength wins this round, Tubbo practically launching Ranboo onto their bed. “Get rest, idiot,” Tubbo says, and it comes out harsh but it’s meant affectionately. That’s just the way he is. Ranboo appreciates that about him. Tubbo is just unabashedly strange. 

     “You too,” Ranboo pouts. 

     Tubbo shakes his head. “Nah, I’ve got some thinkin’ to do-- don’t give me that look. I know what that look means. Don’t you dare.” The look in question is a smug and stubborn expression indicative of a “game” they’ve played out hundreds of times before, wherein Ranboo will hold his own mental and physical wellbeing hostage until Tubbo complies and takes care of himself, too. It’s one of the rare times that Ranboo is always more stubborn than Tubbo. Tubbo groans.

     “I hate you, y’know,” Tubbo mutters as they both settle into bed, wriggling themselves to get under the covers, “Conniving jerk. Running around having morals ‘n shit. Why can’t you just let people suffer? God,” He says, and then snickers at himself for how horrible that sounds. “You just like to go around being all mysterious and handsome,” He complains. 

     “Nuh-uh,” Ranboo counters, “I’ve never been handsome.” Tubbo is turned away from Ranboo at the moment, but that doesn’t stop a hand flinging itself blindly around behind him until it manages to smack Ranboo clear on the face. “Ow,” Ranboo deadpans. 

     “That’s what you get for calling my husband not handsome,” Tubbo huffs. It’s such a ridiculous, domestic conversation. Ranboo is grateful to whatever gods may grace this region that even with everything being so complicated, their love remains simple and complete. It’s the one consistent joy in Ranboo’s life. He’d kill for this man, he really would. 

     “Tubbo?” Ranboo mutters, half-asleep, “You know I’d kill for you, right?” 

     Tubbo answers with a yawn, also half-asleep despite himself and his earlier convictions. “You’d better. You’re gonna.” 

     Ranboo does a half-turn to try and look at Tubbo. “What?” 

     Tubbo does not answer. Tubbo is asleep. Ranboo sighs and tries to settle himself in, too. Sleepy thoughts. Bedtime thoughts. Now was not the time for Lethe completed a big part of his mission just then thoughts. It didn’t matter; It didn’t matter. Philza and Niki were taking care of the rest. His husband was safe. His family could prepare without stopping them. It would be okay. They were all going to be okay.

     Even, if all went right, Dream.

Chapter Text

     Once the formalities of the evening were out of the way (and admittedly rushed, because everyone was anxious to get on with the meat of it all) their meeting truly began. “Okay, so, ” Protesilaus said, clapping his hands together and then rubbing them for dramatic effect, “Who wants to go first?” Nemesis, Zephyrus, and Lethe all looked at eachother. Zephyrus coughed awkwardly and looked away. Lethe pleaded with Nemesis as verbally and non-eyecontact-y as he could manage. 

     Nemesis flushed awkwardly. “Okay, I guess I’ll do it since no one else wants to,” She said, flustered, definitely going to get back at Zephyrus and him since they’d thrown her under the bus.

     “Puffy-- I mean my old partner-- whatever, it’s Puffy-- thinks that rehabilitative therapy would be a bit much for her, because she’s too emotive and wouldn’t want to express judgement in any way. But mainly, she thinks if there’s a chance she knew the person or knew someone who had been hurt by them, it would affect her judgement. So she recommended someone else if we were thinking rehabilitative therapy.” 

     Nemesis looked a little embarrassed, despite how well-spoken she was. “I think she thought I was referring to Wilbur or Jack, honestly.” 

     Zephyrus can’t help himself and barks out a laugh at that. “Honestly, it’s not a bad guess.” Lethe and Protesilaus both snort in unison at that comment. True!

     “Anyways!” Nemesis says with a tiny huff, “She gave me the recommendation and said that they would be pretty good for something like that. I was given contact information and told they could travel to this region if necessary, so as long as we can pay for their travels and lodge I think they’d be a good fit. And I agree that having someone who doesn’t know Dream would be a better fit as far as a therapist goes,” Nemesis finishes. 

     “That’s doable,” Lethe pipes up. “I can help handle paying for a therapist. Protesilaus and I are pretty good on money, so…” Lethe trails off and gives a pointed look to Protesilaus. 

     “I guess I could spare some money to a good cause,” Protesilaus says in jokingly fake-reluctant agreement. 

     “And… I guess I’ll go next,” Lethe says, so all they nod and turn to him. Lethe clears his throat.

     “Considering how long Dream had a reign over this entire region, and the fact that he was the leader of one of the sides of the biggest war this region has ever seen, the ripple effect we’ll see is going to be huge, ” Lethe begins, opening his memory book and skimming through it to get his cliffnotes for his speech. 

     “Assuming we’re straight-up breaking him out, but even so much as relocating him to a, a different prison or something, is going to have a strong effect on this place. We have to be one hundred percent sure that we can do this safely and efficiently for both Dream and the people he’s hurt in the past.” Lethe speaks earnestly and confidently, and he proudly finds the rest of The Syndicate nodding alone. 

     “Well-said,” Zephyrus comments approvingly, and Lethe pretends like he doesn’t flush a bit from the praise.

     “Do we have specifics?” Protesilaus asks, and Nemesis, who has been aggressively tapping the table (which makes a weird tinny sound around the edges) stops tapping and visibly sighs in relief at the question. 

     “I was just wondering the same thing,” She confesses. 

     Lethe opens his mouth to defend himself but Zephyrus beats him to it with a huff. “He was getting there!” 

     Lethe nods. “Yes, th--thank you. Tommy is probably the person who’s going to be the most affected,” Lethe continues, and feels rather like he’s straightening papers at a business meeting with how straight his posture is. 

     “I’ll spare you the details for Tommy’s privacy’s sake, but when Dream exiled Tommy it was a very intimately bad experience for him. Tommy, regardless of the why, has received the full brunt of Dream’s manipulative side. He’s going to panic and need some serious reassuring, like, full-blown PTSD attack. I think Tubbo is likely the second most affected, but the least likely to act irrationally or emotionally. He has a logic-oriented brain, and knows almost as well as I do about how the ripple effect goes, so he’d be able to calculate and deduce where his actions got him, and probably won’t panic because he almost always has a plan and a backup plan or ten.” 

     Nemesis raises her eyebrows at him. “You seem to know Tubbo well,” she says, implying something. Lethe definitely flushes this time. “A-anyway, m-- moving on,” Lethe tries to continue as the rest of The Syndicate giggles a bit at how flustered he is.

     “Wilbur…” Lethe swallows, fighting the rising sensation as Zephyrus’s eyes bore into his skull sharply. “Wilbur is the third most affected but easily the person we have to be worried about either second-to-most if not most. He’s a protective older brother, and despite indicating he may be idolizing Dream, it’s definitely not the case. Dream has done too much to hurt Tommy so I think Wilbur would be willing to resort to more drastic things than anybody else, especially given his… uh… self-destructive tendencies I guess?” 

     Lethe trails off at the end, hesitant. Protesilaus is nodding thoughtfully though, as is Zephyrus. Nemesis beams at him. “That was wonderful, Lethe,” She praises, which does make him feel a little bit better about all that public speaking.

     “That’s just within my circle, though,” Lethe speaks up, feeling the need to warn them ahead of time. “Sapnap is going to be heavily affected too, because he acts on a hair-trigger and feels betrayed by Dream. He’s also a good fighter. I-- I didn’t really look too far into everyone else,” Lethe admits. 

     Protesilaus nods. “That’s very good Lethe. Honestly that’s a lot more info than I was expectin’-- that’s very helpful. Thank you.” 

     Zephyrus nods his approval too, so Lethe feels pretty good about himself for that. “I guess safety comes next,” Zephyrus says, speaking of. He sighs, a big heavy thing.

     “I guess we’ll start with a question. Does anybody know who Dream hasn’t managed to burn bridges with aside from Protesilaus here? Is there anybody?” 

     They all think. Protesilaus looks like he’s going to answer with a “no” before going back to thinking. 

     “Punz,” Lethe answers suddenly, the name coming to his mind without prompting. He gets a peculiar look for that. Lethe isn’t entirely sure why that name came to mind, but now that he’s thinking about it, it does seem to fit. “Punz was with Dream throughout all his time in New L’Manberg and acted as his right hand man,” Lethe reasoned slowly. 

     Nemesis had begun thinking as well, and thoughtfully added her own analysis. “He was a head general for Dream in the L’Manberg Revolution. Even if Sapnap isn’t going to accept him and George is too asleep, Punz is someone who has been around for a long time.” 

     Zephyrus nods, and they can all kinda see him doing the mental math and adding Punz into whatever equation he’s come up with. Hmmm. Lethe tries to pretend he’s thinking about that and not being spooked by how quickly he came to the idea that Punz was involved. Wait-- involved? The question was potential allies. Hmmmmm.

     Nemesis jolts upright out of her seat, slamming her hands on the table. Lethe startles badly but apparently, he’s not as startled as Nemesis is. She looks pale. “Punz was the one who retrieved us and told us Dream’s plan, when we all went to put him in prison,” she starts. 

     I know, Lethe realizes. I know what she’s talking about. I know what she’s going to say. He listens intently. 

     “Oh, so I guess he’s not on Dream’s side,” Zephyrus starts casually. 

     “You don’t get it,” Lethe cuts in, and winces at the backtalking tone to Zephyrus of all people but he doesn’t get it . Nemesis nods at Lethe and continues to explain. 

     “He said that Tommy paid him more than Dream ever did, which is why he switched sides,” Nemesis says desperately, and Zephyrus makes a thinking face while Protesilaus just looks flat-out confused.

     “Wait-- that doesn’t make sense. Isn’t Tommy always broke? How did he have more money than Dream? --Then again, Dream is homeless,” Protesilaus mutters. 

     Lethe nods along with Nemesis. “You two weren’t there but we were. That’s why we got it before you did,” He says-- among other things, things that lurk in the back of his mind and are clawing at the doors to get out. 

     “Dream wanted to get captured. He wanted to go to prison. He thought that Sam was trustworthy since he’s known Sam most of his life. He didn’t account for Quackity. Or I guess Tommy’s impact,” Lethe reasons, and there’s a frantic static buzzing in his brain but he shakes it off because this is important and it’s starting to make sense. A little too much sense. A little too much accurate postulating for someone who only now put the pieces together and keeps forgetting they were there at all. He pushes it down. The Syndicate needs this.

     “What this means,” Nemesis picks up for him when it’s clear that Lethe is reeling a little too much to continue, “Is that Punz never betrayed Dream and was always on his side. --And that he wanted to go to prison. Though I don’t know why.” 

     Zephyrus and Protesilaus are nodding. “We can factor him into our plans after all, then. I imagine he’ll want to-- uh. Ra-- Lethe? Are you alright?” 

     Lethe gets up out of his seat, joining Nemesis, and nods. He stands taller and more confident than previously, no longer so unsure of what he was saying or why he knew what he did. And he’s quite calm now that he has all the information. 

     “The reason why Dream wanted to go to prison-- his plan was to unite the server, like he’d been saying from the start. Except he realized that when he couldn’t unite everyone as a leader , he’d have to do it by giving them all a common enemy instead. Or… somewhat common,” He says casually, gesturing to the people in the room-- who are, y’know, planning on breaking Dream out of prison. 

     With all eyes on him now, Lethe swallows. “I think I can actually talk to Punz. I know where to find him, at least, and it’s not at his house despite what you might think for a guy with two houses.” 

     Protesilaus hesitates, and then nods. “Alright, man. If you’re confident then we’ll rely on you.” 

     Zephyrus doesn’t look so sure, and there’s a look of concern in his eyes, so Lethe just shoots him a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine-- Punz is a mercenary, not a senseless killer. He doesn’t have a hit on me, plus if we’re wrong I am the richest man in the region-- I could just pay him more not to,” He says with a laugh. 

     Zephyrus’s fears are definitely not quelled but he nods along anyways. (That’s unsurprising, though-- it’s a dad thing.) “Alright, mate. I trust you.”

     They all take a collective breath and breathe a collective sigh before settling back into their seats, and the matter at hand-- which is what Zephyrus had prepared about the issue of safety-- both for the people Dream had hurt, and for Dream himself. This was likely going to get very, very complicated. 

     Zephyrus cleared his throat. “Right, so. We know Dream has at least one person he can rely on to help protect him when we’re off-duty so to speak, which is good news for us and Dream.” Zephyrus had glanced almost questioningly at Lethe when he said “at least one person”, but nothing more came of it than a glance, which was a relief for multiple reasons. 

     “Tommy will probably be the easiest to protect Dream from, in all honesty,” He continues. “As long as we can keep him from seeking out and hunting down Dream, and can convince Dream to not seek out and hunt down Tommy, we should see a decrease in the domino effect like how Lethe mentioned earlier. Tommy’s not the only person Dream has hurt, but he’s the one he’s hurt the worst and the one who has the most connections to the rest of the region-- honestly he’s just a very sociable child-- so by removing the centerpiece we hopefully remove the catalyst for any bigger issues at hand.”

     Protesilaus had started pacing the room because he was getting twitchy, but he seemed calm aside from that, and it wasn’t in a way that radiated anxiety-- though perhaps it was a little bit mischievous in nature-- so the others weren’t too worried either. “So what I’m gatherin’ is, this will involve a lot of socializing,” Protesilaus groans. 

     Zephyrus lets out a cackle. “Yes. Yes it will. Come on, mate, you’re actually the most well-spoken out of all of us. I’m sure you could convince one of them to stop,” He says pointedly. 

     Protesilaus pauses his pacing. “Tommy and I have… a complicated history,” He confesses, “But Dream and I got on pretty well in prison. I got to know him a decent amount. Dibs on Dream.” 

     Zephyrus sighs. “I guess that leaves me or Lethe with Tommy, then?” He asks, glancing over to Nemesis who has put her finger on her nose. She giggles slightly, and Zephyrus and Lethe both chuckle a bit and smile fondly at her in turn. 

     “I have a complicated history with him too,” She explains, and they nod in understanding. 

     “That’s fine. So-- This will depend on Protesilaus’s plan for everything, but after we get Dream out we’re going to need to relocate him to somewhere else. Our next step would ideally be to find a base of his that nobody knows about, but that’s assuming he has one--” 

     “Homeless!” Protesilaus butts in, heckling.

     “Oh my god Techno--” Zephyrus laughs. “ Anyways! As I was saying, and the more time we waste figuring that out, the longer he’s in there getting tortured by Quackity and probably Sam. So we’ll have to set up a quick, temporary base, along with a path in the nether that’s not easily accessible to anybody unless we know the location already-- something that can be quickly covered up. Got it?”

     “That won’t be too hard,” Lethe remarks in dry amusement, “Have you seen the state of the paths in the Nether?” 

     Zephyrus groans, “Oh god, don’t remind me. It’s beyond saving.” 

     Nemesis pipes up with a sly grin. “Hey, I’ve lived here since I was a very young child-- it used to be worse!” 

     The overworlders all take a brief intermission to bemoan the collective state of the Nether infrastructure while Protesilaus just laughs at them. They are, admittedly, an easily distracted bunch. 

     “Right. So, honestly, the ideal scenario is once again to talk people down. Wilbur especially will need to be talked down from hurting Dream, but I’m handling that.” Zephyrus puts them back on track and ends his statement authoritatively. Geez, Zephyrus, no one was going to question that. It’d make the most sense, after all. This is all, of course, thought internally with the sense of a fond eye-roll.

     “Hang in there guys, I’m almost done,” Zephyrus adds fondly. “Lethe is handling Tubbo and Michael. He’s probably also going to wind up handling Tommy. Nemesis, can you do damage control and reassurance for the people who were in L’Manberg? I know you might not be on the best of terms with them now, but they’ll be way more receptive to you for… obvious reasons.” 

     Nemesis hesitates for a moment, and then sighs and nods. “Somebody has to protect them,” She says. “They’ve been hurt enough already. With any luck, I can prevent that from happening even more so.” 

     Zephyrus lets out a big, heavy sigh of relief. “Phew. Alright, with that out of the way-- Protesilaus! It’s your turn.”

     Protesilaus instantly slams his hands on the table and stops pacing. “Finally! Y’know, I know Zephyrus means god of the western winds but talk about long-winded--” He’s cut off with a sharp elbow to the ribs. 

     “How about I knock the wind out of you?” Zephyrus grumbles. They all laugh, in good spirits about it all. 

     “Yeah, yeah. So, our plan starts out with a few options. Option one: Socializin'. Not exactly ideal for me, y’see, but honestly it would probably be a better outcome in the long run if we can just, y’know, talk Quackity and Sam outta torturing people and lusting after power. Unfortunately though, that method has a very low chance of success, so as nice as that would be and as much as I’d love to write another speech that goes unheard, I’m saving the paper before it gets scrapped and being realistic. We’re gonna have to go with option two: Jailbreak.”

      The light mood from earlier sobers slowly as The Syndicate nods seriously, all humor set aside for the moment as they focus their attention on the matter at hand. 

     “Luckily, I’ve managed to acquire blueprints, as well as some information on The Warden and his buddy there.” 

     Protesilaus pulls out and unrolls several large blueprints with sketches of the prison, laying them out on the table-- they’re too big to fit on it comfortably, so the edges curl up and drape off. “We ah-- we may need to move to a bigger area if we want to look at these in detail unfortunately these are huge who designed them this way but-- anyways.” 

     Lethe thumbs an edge of the blueprint as Protesilaus talks, the unique texture of the print familiar on his fingertips, even if the sight itself is new. He hums and nods along to what Protesilaus says, listening intently, taking mental notes. He sighs, realizing he may forget when the time the prison break comes, so he pulls out his memory book and writes what little he can to jog his memory while still being vague enough to avoid any theoretical suspicion on The Syndicate. 

     Zephyrus stands proudly and firmly between Protesilaus and Lethe; Nemesis stands strong and fierce between Protesilaus and Lethe. Each of them connected in their own way-- like the whole of the region, if you thought about it. Intermingling and interconnected in ways that no one, no matter how clever, could ever truly be able to predict. Lethe tried to hide the fact that he was about to smile to himself, lest it cause confusion and make for a strange mood shift. He was just proud-- that was all. The Syndicate was a good team-- for a good cause. He was proud to be a part of it. Proud to stand for something. And this plan that Protesilaus was laying out before them? 

     Lethe was sure of it: It was going to work.

Chapter Text

     It wasn't hard to enter Punz's territory; right off the Prime Path, take a left into the fortified walls with the super tall tower. Hard to miss, really. Ranboo knew they were there more often than they were at their actual house nowadays. More isolated and secure and fireproof, for the most part. Ranboo had agreed to take on the task of asking Punz to join The Syndicate's mission-- just the mission, of course, because Dream needed all the allies he could get. He really didn't think it'd take that much convincing, but he and Punz alone knew that so he wasn't about to break that trust. Punz, apparently having flipped their sleep schedule around, was actually doing some gardening out in the moonlight when Ranboo approached.

     At first, the mercenary mistook him for a regular, harmless enderman-- in that they didn't register Ranboo's presence, but even if they had, they would have brushed it off. That was fine for the most part, and usually Ranboo would actually prefer that, but this time, he wanted Punz's attention. Ranboo stepped into the moonlight, and with his white half illuminated not unlike their own hoodie, Punz immediately drew their sword. They'd been startled, although they were loathe to admit it. 

     "Ranboo, right…?" Punz asked, confused. "Can I help you with something? You don't seem the type to order a hit." 

     Ranboo cocked his head at them. "I mean, I'm not the type really, no." Punz's sword remained out.

     "Punz." Ranboo said. 

     Punz sheathed his sword. They recognized the look in Ranboo's eyes with that single curt word, and didn't feel the need to pretend as if they didn't know him. "Ranboo," Punz responded in kind. "...Okay, but now I really need to know why you're here. This isn't a part of the plan." 

     Ranboo hummed thoughtfully, and a little sadly. "It's about the plan though," He said simply, and admittedly almost coyly. Punz huffed. "Alright, well, if it's important, better take it upstairs." So they did.

     Upstairs, in this case, of course, meant to the very top of Punz's tower. It was a lot harder to access, especially without Punz's permission, so it made a somewhat safe environment to discuss top-secret plans. It wasn't ideal of course-- Dream may have definitely complained about it at one point or another-- but it wasn't as far away as their secondary location, so ultimately regardless of the hypothetical theoretical security flaws, convenience tended to win out. 

     Ranboo stretched once they reached the top, straightening out to his full height, and Punz just shook their head at him. "You really don't need to show off, you know," They scolded. Ranboo shrugged and smirked. His face fell again though when he remembered why he was here. Ranboo pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking.

     "Ugh, okay, so… You're gonna hate me for this, I think," Ranboo started. Punz was reclining hyper-casually against a chair, emanating an icy demeanor in an attempt to look like they were remaining calm. 

     "I already hate this," They admitted. "It's a deviation from the plan. Dream's not out yet either, he was meant to be out ages ago." 

     Ranboo nodded and sucked in air through his teeth. "Riiiiiiight. About that." 

     Punz's gaze hardened. "You'd better not tell me he's dead or I swear to god I'm gonna blow up everything in this stupid region."

     "You wouldn't have to go that far," Ranboo pouted, before correcting Punz-- "No, don't worry, if he were dead I wouldn't be so casual about this." He thought for a moment. "Not that any of this is casual," He added. 

     Punz heaved a giant sigh. "So what is it? Some punk kid messed with the security system in the prison again? Technoblade's going back on his word? Dream needs us to figure out an unforeseen element that couldn't have been predicted because this plan was laid out for-fucking- ever ago and people and their ideals change and you can't actually plan that far in advance especially when you're staking your entire life and reputation on it--?" 

     Punz had to breathe at some point during that, and Ranboo took the opportunity to calm them as best he could. "You good man? --Hey, it'll be alright." Ranboo shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Okay so lemme think alright hmm. Uh. No to the first one, definitely no to the second one-- as in Technoblade is gonna help, for sure-- and unfortunately kind of a yes for the third one." 

     Punz stared at him. "Go on." 

     "You're gonna hate me for this," Ranboo said again, and Punz threw their arms up in exasperation. 

     "Just-- just fuckin tell me then! Damn! Get it over with, out with it, come on already!" 

     Ranboo braced himself for the job that was relaying the very, very hard truth. Steady breaths. Dream is a person he's chosen. "Dream is… No, let me start that over so it's just facts. Sam has let ulterior motives get in the way of his duty as warden. Quackity has been allowed to visit more than anybody else, off the books, and with a breach in protocol. He has been allowed weapons and tools. Quackity and potentially Sam as well are-- there's. There's really no way to put it mildly. They have been torturing Dream. Allegedly for the revive book. Potentially for kicks." 

     Punz was off their chair immediately, bloodlust in their eyes. Ranboo held up a hand-- he wasn't done talking. Punz waited begrudgingly.

     "Technoblade has called for The Syndicate to help break Dream out of jail. I'm privy to the plan and part of my job in the operation is to solicit your help as a potential ally-- they don't know about the plan or the details, although suspicion has been raised and for that particular group I think the ruse is up." 

     Punz exhaled. Had-- Had they been holding their breath that entire time? That can't be healthy. Punz turned to the side for a moment and-- "AAAAAAAAGHHHHHH!!!!!!!" they screamed, pure emotion. 

     They squeezed their eyes shut for a moment before turning back to Ranboo. "Okay, so-- damnit! What does-- UGH. Just--" Ranboo waited patiently and sympathetically for them to gather their thoughts.

     "Personally I was thinking-- and I hate to admit this-- but I was thinking that we might need to call it all off." 

     Punz spun around and stared at Ranboo in wide-eyed hysteria. "What? No! We can't call off the plan, it's-- it took too much work! Too much time has gone into this for it to not pay off. Dream can get out, right? He can get out, and the plan'll go exactly as, well, planned, and he'll be totally fine." 

     Ranboo knew that tone well. That was the sound of a person who was trying more to convince themselves than anyone else, because they already knew the truth, and the truth hurt far, far too much. 

     "I don't think so," He said quietly, apologetically. 

     Punz shook their head, desperate, trying to rationalize things out. "No way. I trust Dream and he knew what he was doing-- he knows what he's doing. Somebody's got to be lying. Maybe it's Quackity or Sam who's lying? Or maybe-- but wait, how did you know about this?" 

     Why did this have to hurt so much? Why couldn't it all be simple? "Technoblade told me that Dream said it. And that he saw it, too. …I don't think he was lying." 

     Punz shook their head again. "No, no, he has to be. Dream knew Sam when he was growing up! Sam wouldn't…" 

     It's not like Ranboo could see inside Punz's head, but he still pretty much saw memories flash across Punz's vision. And Ranboo could put two and two together. Punz had been in The Eggpire, before they'd managed to snuff out that demonic foul thing. Which meant Punz had associated with Ponk a lot. Which meant that Punz was now doing their own math and reaching the very very unfortunate conclusion.

     "I'm gonna fucking kill him," Punz affirmed. 

     Ranboo frowned. "Maybe. You might have to. But in the meantime, could you consider hearing me out? Or rather hearing out The Syndicate. In this one specific incident I speak for them." 

     Punz tilted their head at Ranboo-- at some point, they had reached into a chest and were digging out pieces of weaponry and armor, likely in an attempt to feel productive about their boiling emotions. 

     Ranboo stood tall and proud at over seven feet tall and bowed dramatically, to the point of theatrics, lilting his voice to sound like a radio host. "You are cordially invited to the jailbreak of Pandora's Vault, where we will be escorting our humble guest and friend Dream out of the wretched obsidian box and into freedom. There may be bloodshed, so be sure to wear your best netherite attire." 

     The fake bow and speech were over, and Punz smirked at Ranboo, mood lightened at least a little, at least for now. "Alright, fuck it, we can discuss the details about abandoning the plan after Dream is no longer being actively tortured. How do I RSVP?"

     The Syndicate this time had met not in their secret base but directly outside of Technoblade and Philza's houses, with Lethe and Nemesis waiting by the dog's house as Protesilus and Zephyrus were inside-- Ranboo anxiously petting the dogs in mild confusion as Niki explained to him they were gearing up with potions and packing extra netherite. 

     "I mean, it's always good to be prepared," Ranboo said nervously, something in the back of his mind burning as he pushed it away. 

     Niki stared at him, setting his enderman nerves alight, "Ranboo, did you forget? Today is the day we're breaking Dream out of prison." 

     Wait. They were what?!?

     Technoblade and Philza attempted to give him a refresher when they came out and saw him panicking and an agitated Niki doing her best to keep him from spiraling. 

     "There's no way I would ever help with that, Dream deserves to be in prison for what he did to Tommy," Ranboo had protested-- 

     "But that doesn't mean he deserves to be tortured, " Techno had replied, and Ranboo had stilled as he wracked his brain. No, he didn't. That was true. Still, breaking him out? They had some minor back and forth about it as Ranboo did his best to remember, even as his head started to throb. When he finally had the full recap but still couldn't quite make sense of it, Phil butted in.

     “Ranboo, mate, you agreed to this, you said you had it covered,” Phil said, and it wasn’t quite the voice of disappointment and it wasn’t quite concern and it wasn’t quite impatience but it was certainly something, as the clock ticked on and the window in which they could set their plans in motion grew smaller and smaller. 

     “But that doesn’t make sense, ” Ranboo protested, and then stopped midway as a thought occurred to him. “Did I…?” He muttered under his breath. 

     Technoblade looked jittery, all nerves coiled up and ready to spring into action and thrown off by what was apparently a change in plans.

     “Listen, Ranboo,” Technoblade started sincerely, even though his voice was a little strained from how jittery he was, and he put a solid hand on Ranboo’s shoulder to show how truly sincere he was. 

     “We aren’t going to force you into doing anything you don’t want to do. I’ve been in that position-- it’s not a good position to be in. As my disciple--” He said the title with a lot of pride, and somehow, that made this a little easier to hear-- “I would never put that upon you. But you gotta make a decision. You agreed to this before, but that doesn’t mean you can’t choose to back out now. Just-- make a decision fast. We’ve only got so long. You don’t have to participate, you can sit out, we won’t hold that against you-- right guys?” Niki and Phil nodded. “--But we have to start soon if we want to do this, and we want to do this.”

     Ranboo was frozen in place. They were… giving him a choice. They weren’t holding him to the standard of some memory that was lost to him, they wouldn’t hate him or hurt him if he said no. And Tubbo and Tommy… what would they think? Did he really sign up to help Dream of all people escape? The person who had hurt his two best friends? 

     “I…” Ranboo exhaled. “Okay. Hang on. Just a second, I just need to-- I need to double-check,” He explained, and Technoblade stepped away, gave him space, didn’t stare into him. 

     Ranboo flipped open his memory book, desperately looking for some clue of this plan. Met with them today, the journal read. Because he’s being hurt in there. It sets a bad precedent. Even if I do hate him, can I excuse that? Who will stop them from hurting the people I love? Ranboo breathed in, shaky. That… Okay. That was a good point. He couldn’t argue that that was a good point. Power-- yeah. It got to people like that. He read on, The Syndicate waiting patiently for him. He was grateful for that. Truly grateful, in ways that even words couldn’t express. Maybe actions could but-- just a bit more.

     And that’s my role in the plan. To keep people from getting hurt. Don’t let Tommy make stupid decisions. Don’t let Tubbo make rash decisions. Keep Michael safe and not worried. If there’s fighting, everyone else will handle it. My role is to keep people safe. 

     Ranboo exhaled, steady. “I-- yeah. Yes. Okay.” He said. 

     “Okay?” Techno asked; a question, a confirmation. 

     “Okay,” Ranboo agreed, gaining confidence as he went on. “If my role is to keep people safe-- I’m not going to not do that. I’m…” He hesitated, just for a split second. It was taking a side, in a way, but it also wasn’t. He was choosing people. He was choosing people. The people he cared about, and the people he didn’t. 

     “I’m in. You can count on me,” He said, a newfound determination in his voice. And even the static that clung to the back of his brain and itched when he was asked about his memories seemed to calm. This was the right thing to do.

     Phil nodded curtly, Techno looked relieved, and Niki… Niki was unreadable to him, honestly. But she was staring into the distance anyway, in the direction of the prison. He was pretty sure her mind was just focused elsewhere. On the plan ahead and its repercussions. 

     “Ranboo, you’re going to ride with us as close to the prison as possible,” Phil explained, taking the lead when he realized that Ranboo had likely forgotten the details-- admittedly, Ranboo had forgotten a lot of the details. Those details at least. He remembered what came after he left the group. “From there, you’ll go on foot and take the tunnel to Snowchester, and grab Tubbo and Michael. Then travel the fastest you can to Tommy’s house.” 

     Niki chimed in, to Ranboo’s relief-- apparently she wasn’t in the midst of writing mental notes on how much she hated him, but rather, was going over the plan herself in her brain. That… did make more sense. “Techno is going in alone, Phil is going to wait outside for him, and I’m going to set off withers as a distraction once the alarm is pulled, and act like a bystander. With luck nobody notices I’m with them.” 

     Ranboo turned to Techno, concerned. “You’re--?”

     “--Going to be fine, Ranboo, I promise,” Techno assured. “Technoblade never dies.” 

     Phil nodded with a small chuckle. “Our biggest worry is bystanders, due to the alarm. Niki’s managing those who were in L’Manberg, you’re managing the… younger populace, and Techno and I are going to brute force our way through everyone else.” 

     Ranboo squinted at Phil’s wording, but… Phil wasn’t really wrong about it. While Phil was talking, Techno had apparently walked off, and now, he returned, holding several leads. Attached, were three beautiful, strong horses. Their coats shone, and their armor looked like it had been adjusted by hand to fit each of them perfectly. “Oh, wow,” Ranboo couldn’t help but say. 

     “These are the best horses I have,” Techno said, “I bred them myself. Please take care of them.” He handed off the leads to Phil, who offered them to the remaining two of The Syndicate. 

     Ranboo hesitated before taking a lead, picking the darkest horse there was, a black and gray-mottled horse with intimidating iron armor. “Hello,” He crooned at it softly, holding his hand up to the horse’s head. The horse seemed fairly unnerved that Ranboo was eye-level with it, but didn’t shy away; it snuffled at him, before deciding it didn’t care about him. That was good. 

     Especially because he was choosing this horse with the full knowledge that it would likely end up being Dream’s horse once Ranboo left for Snowchester. He intentionally chose a horse he thought could handle Dream and him. Niki had already acquainted herself with a brown pinto in golden armor, even offering it a carrot-- and Phil hadn’t really cared so he’d chosen the remaining horse. 

     Technoblade returned on Carl, the only horse sporting diamond armor-- which was fair, given how hard it was to come by and how precious Carl was to him. “Mount up,” Techno said, all intimidating authority covered head to toe in netherite that radiated magic, atop his large steed. “We’ve got a jailbreak to do.”

Chapter Text

     “ Tubbo~!” Ranboo called in a playful, sing-song voice, despite his nerves. “Tubbo, where are you, I know you’re in here somewhere.” 

     He paused, waiting for the inevitable. Sure enough, there was the faint sound of Michael’s giggling, quickly followed by a similarly faint “No I’m not! Go away! I’m busy!” Ranboo rolled his eyes with a huff, and followed the sound to Michael’s room. Empty. Or so it seemed. Hmmmmmmmm. 

     “Hmmm,” Ranboo said out loud. “Nobody’s here. That’s strange.” 

     He paced around the room, “looking” for them, muttering things like “hmm not under here” after picking up a solitary stuffed animal on the ground that they definitely could not hide under, deliberately keeping his head high and non-angled so he didn’t accidentally see them. In reality, he could hear both Michael and Tubbo, trying to stifle their giggles, with the occasional whispered “Shhh, he’ll never find us under here, he’ll never find us under here” from Tubbo to Michael. 

     “Well!” Ranboo declared, once he had “searched” the “entirety” of the room. “My husband and son aren’t anywhere. I guess they really are gone. Hopefully nobody kidnapped them. I mean, I definitely can’t eat all these candied golden carrots on my own.” 

     Ranboo paused again, full grin on his face. “He’s lying,” Came Tubbo’s whispered voice, “He’s a big fat liar. He absolutely could eat all of them.” 

     There was a quiet sort of sniffle-snort from Michael, who then whispered “But he wants to share!”  

     A moment of silence passed, and Ranboo started tapping his foot in a dramatic “thinking” pose. He figured Tubbo had shaken his head “no” in that time-- “It’s totally a trap,” he heard Tubbo explain.

     “Well, I guess I’ll just have to go to Uncle Tommy’s house on my own-- I know how much he loves candied golden carrots anyway. I bet he can help me eat all of them.” 

     From under the bed came a noise of hooves scrambling against carpeted floor, and Michael shot out from underneath it. “Wait I’m here I’m here! You’re goin to Uncle Tommy’s? I want some golden carrots!”  

     Ranboo grinned down at Michael. “Michael! You’re here! Hello! Want to go to Uncle Tommy’s with me?” Ranboo bent over at the waist-- he was very bendy-- and tilted his head to look at Tubbo, who was also stowed away under the bed. “Hello, Tubbo,” Ranboo crooned, and Tubbo just pouted at him. 

     “You’re a ba-- a big meanie,” He said grumpily as he wormed his way out from under the bed. Ranboo just laughed at him, knowing full well what he wanted to say but couldn’t due to Michael being in range, and when Tubbo extended his arms, Ranboo slid him out until he was just laying face-down on the carpet. 

     Tubbo stood up and brushed himself off on his own, and Ranboo handed Michael a candied golden carrot with a sly grin, which Michael looked at it with wide, awe-struck eyes. 

     “Since when are we going to Tommy’s house? I don’t remember planning anything with him today,” Tubbo asked with a slight frown, confused. 

     “I figured we could surprise him,” Ranboo explained. 

     “You’re suspicious,” Said Tubbo with narrowed eyes, and. Well. That was true, wasn’t it? But Tubbo wouldn’t not play along anyway. 

     “Since when do you not want an excuse to visit Tommy?” Ranboo countered smugly, certain that Tubbo could sense that he was up to something anyway. But it didn’t really matter, did it. Because Tubbo would go with him. 

     “ Please can we go visit Uncle Tommy now? You said you were goin!” Michael asked, tugging on Tubbo’s pantleg gently. 

     Tubbo groaned. “It’s such a long walk,” He whined, but ultimately conceded. 

     They opted to row across the short stretch of water that separated Snowchester from the mainland instead of taking the bridge, because it was both safer and faster. Ranboo was a little too big to squeeze into the boat, even alongside Michael, who was tiny-- so he had to take his own. Obviously, this meant they raced-- and Tubbo won. 

     “That doesn’t seem possible,” Ranboo remarked, while Michael cheered with aggressive joy and did a small victory dance. 

     “Hey, just because you have longer arms doesn’t mean they’re stronger arms,” Tubbo countered proudly. 

     Ranboo groaned at the rhyme. “Ah. Good one, good one,” He conceded. 

     They steered clear of the Dreamon Hunting Camp, electing to take the long way around--  inactive though it was, and even though that way led to the Prime Path sooner, it was too close to the prison-- they tried to make sure Michael didn’t catch a good view of it, either. Ranboo’s nerves were alight. Too close. They were too close. 

     “Whoahhh,” Michael remarked as he happened to glance backwards and notice the blackstone building in the distance-- Tubbo and Ranboo both grimaced. “Who lives there?” 

     “A very bad man,” Tubbo answered gravely. 

     Michael frowned. “What did he do?” 

     Ranboo tried to usher him along the path faster, tried to turn his head away from it all just in case. Just in case. “He hurt your Uncle Tommy,” Ranboo explained. 

     “I’m gonna blow him up!” Michael declared. 

     Tubbo grinned at him. “Yeah, big man?” Michael nodded, and Tubbo simply ruffled his hair. 

     He was smiling down at him, but when he glanced at Ranboo his eyes were full of concern. Ranboo tried to shoot a look back that said “I know.” He mouthed, “Later,” And Tubbo nodded. They took turns carrying Michael the rest of the way over the rough and rocky shoreline, coming in around the back of Puffy's territory until they were able to reach the oak-laden trail of the Prime Path. (Normally they would’ve taken the easier route past the hotel, but… they were both very on edge. For no particular reason! Imagine that!) 

     Tubbo sang an “angelic” song that was very likely just the Halo The Videogame theme song as he set Michael’s feet down on the path. “The holy ground, the holy grounnnd,” He said with a snicker. 

     “Daaa-aaaad,” Michael whined, and skittered out of Tubbo’s grasp as soon as his hooves touched the oak.

     Michael skipped around freely now, enjoying the tippity-tap sound of his hooves against the holy oak, and Ranboo felt he could relax a little with the prison out of view, even if only barely. 

     “And now we have to go back up, ” Tubbo huffed, “To your Uncle Tommy’s house.” Tubbo shot Ranboo an aggravated, exhausted look. “Remind me again why we’re visiting?” 

     Ranboo stared blankly at him. “To… hang out? And share my candied golden carrots?” 

     Tubbo furrowed his eyebrows. “You’re tellin’ me you actually had candied golden carrots this whole time?” He shouted. “Gimme!” Tubbo made snatching and grabby motions. 

     Ranboo procured the carrots from his bag and stubbornly held them aloft. “Ah-ah. You have to wait and share,” He tutted. 

     “I’m gonna kill you in your sleep one day. When you’re vulnerable.” Tubbo grumbled. 

     “You are a bad influence on our child,” Ranboo chided. Not like Michael could hear. He was hoofing it up those stairs, holy cow. “Don’t trip!” Ranboo called, not that it slowed him down.

     “I’m just glad I removed all the traps I’d set up a few years ago,” Tubbo remarked. 

     Ranboo turned to him. “The hm? Excuse me, the-- the whatnow? ” 

     Tubbo started stuttering out a laughing blatant lie of “nothing”, but he got a quick excuse to move on as soon as they reached the top gate. Michael was dancing anxiously in front of it, waiting for his parents. 

     “Thanks for waiting, kiddo. Good job,” Tubbo said, patting his head lovingly. “Excuse me just one moment, gentlemen,” Tubbo said graciously. They stepped aside as he stood in front of the gate, wondering what exactly he was going to do. He opened his mouth. 

     “ HELLOOOOOO! BIG-MAN TOMMY!” Tubbo belted out from the top of his lungs. 

     Ranboo just stared at him. “Ow, ” He remarked. 

     Michael didn’t seem to have the same sensitivity he did though because he decided to join. “ Uncle Tommy! ” 

     Satisfied with the announcement of their arrival, Tubbo opened the gate and stepped aside. “After you,” He said with a smug grin. 

     “Where did you get those lungs?” Ranboo asked as he slid through the gate after Michael, who instantly went running through Tommy’s yard to try and find him. 

     "Wouldn't you like to know," Tubbo muttered smugly. 

     The sound of chatting wafted through the air as the pair strode casually toward Tommy's house, content to let Michael run ahead and amok since the area was fenced-in and safe. The door opened as Tommy came out to greet them-- honestly Ranboo would be more surprised if Tommy somehow hadn't heard Tubbo's shout-- and Michael popped his head out from the garden furrow, saying "I found him!"

     "I'm not sure you did, buddy, I think he kind of just came out on his own," Ranboo said fondly, while Tommy startled and said "Hello there little man! Where did-- where did you come from? " with a laugh. 

     "Uncle Tommy! Hi!!!" Michael exclaimed, scrambling out of the garden and running to hug his leg. 

     Tubbo and Ranboo stood by patiently to let Tommy and Michael get all the surprised and delighted "hellos" of a sudden visit out of the way, when an unexpected voice said "I didn't expect to see you two here, let alone with Michael." 

     Ranboo whirled towards the sound. "Hello sibling," He crooned in a faux-affectionate, teasing tone. 

     "You prick," Wilbur scoffed, but it was in fond exasperation like how he acted to Tommy rather than the initial vitriol he'd had when they first met. Ranboo was rather proud of that. His mind was also racing somewhat, though. Wilbur was here. That wasn't part of the plan. But then again… it made things easier, didn't it? In its own way. A thought in the back of his head whispered that Wilbur would be easier to corral if he had to focus on Tommy, and Ranboo pretended to ignore that thought while secretly making a mental note of it.

     "But seriously. What brings you 'round for a visit?" Wilbur asked. 

     Tubbo turned on Ranboo immediately, with a slight side-eye. "Yeah, what gives?" 

     Ranboo looked at Tubbo incredulously. "Tubbo, I already told you why-- I have extra candied golden carrots and I thought it'd be nice to stop by and say hi since I know how much Tommy loves them." 

     Tommy shot up from his spot on the ground. "Well well well, did I hear this right?" He asked, cocky and self-assured. Ranboo and everyone else was used to this posturing, however, so he just nodded, and held some out of his bag for his sorta-sibling to take (using his other hand to prevent Tubbo from snatching them all).

     “Ooooohhhh Ranboo you shouldn’t have,” Tommy said in a pleased falsetto, confusingly letting out a noise that was almost a purr?-- and took several more candied golden carrots than were actually offered. 

     “Okay, that’s--” Ranboo was going to say that’s enough, but reconsidered. Especially given what was yet to come. “That’s fine,” He finished lamely instead. “Wilbur? You want some?” 

     Wilbur waved his hand dismissively. “No, thank you.” 

     Tommy merely scoffed at him. "You're in a huff again Wil. Please, calm yourself, have a carrot." Wilbur rolled his eyes, but clearly something about the phrase softened him up, because he did indeed, though very quietly, take a singular candied golden carrot from Tommy.

     "You are all so spoiled," Wilbur said as he begrudgingly enjoyed the carrot Tommy had given him, "Not only are these candied but they're also golden carrots. Don't kids these days snack on regular carrots?" 

     Tommy puffed his chest up, indignant. "For your information, Wilbur, these were offered to me." 

     Tubbo rolled his eyes, munching on one of the carrots Ranboo had let him snatch. "Yeah, I think honestly you picked the wrong guy to tease about that considering Tommy has a literal garden full of just carrots." 

     Wilbur and Tommy both opened their mouths to speak (or more accurately, argue), before being abruptly cut off. They were interrupted by a sudden, mechanical wail that screamed loud in their ears even from far away. It was a repetitive drone that locked the previously lively group in place, frozen in fear. It was coming from down the Prime Path, beyond Tommy’s hotel, beyond Bad and Skeppy’s mansion. Unmistakable.

     The prison alarm.

Chapter Text

     “Ohhh, shit,” Wilbur cursed. Tommy and Tubbo said the stronger version of that in unison. Michael covered his ears and scrunched up his face in pain, and Ranboo tried desperately to not panic, to not let his brain turn into static as a familiar tune wormed its way into his head, matching itself with the rhythm of the siren. 

     “I-- I have to--” Tommy stuttered out. 

     “Inside,” Wilbur interrupted commandingly, putting his hands firmly on Tommy’s shoulders and walking him backwards into his own house. 

     Ranboo shook his head to clear it and followed Wilbur’s lead, ushering Tubbo and Michael. “Go, go, ” He urged, as quietly as he could over the sound. The wail was quieter once indoors, but not by much. Ranboo was struggling to not panic, and Tommy was flinging things every which way out of his chests, looking for stronger armor.

     “I’d better go check it out,” Wilbur said with a frown, and Ranboo opened his mouth to protest but Tommy spoke first. 

     “No, Wilbur, don’t,” He pleaded in a desperate voice-- “Please.” 

     Wilbur hesitated, and then looked at Tommy-- who looked terrified and desperate and in need of an older brother. The look bore a startling resemblance to the one he wore during his exile, and it was clear that Wilbur recognized that too because Ranboo saw the hesitance in his eyes and the need to protect drown out all else. 

     “Okay,” Wilbur said softly. “I’ll stay.” He sat down criss-cross applesauce on the floor, nearest the door-- and Ranboo knew why without asking-- he intended to be a distraction or even sacrifice if Dream came knocking. He wondered if, in its own way, it was cathartic for Wilbur to actually be able to help this time around. Ranboo looked over, to check in on the rest of his family.

     Tubbo was crouched over Michael, shielding him physically, with his hands over both Michael’s ears. Michael looked mostly confused, with a brow deeply furrowed and giving him the wrinkles of an old man, but Tubbo-- Tubbo was for all intents and purposes simply protective. But he was horribly stiff, and staring straight ahead, trying not to squeeze his own eyes shut. Braced for impact. And Ranboo noticed Tommy was trembling-- He. He wanted to help. 

     Being safe wasn’t enough. They needed to feel safe. Gently, carefully, Ranboo put pressure on Tommy’s right side as he was crouching, until he was forced to readjust again and again-- “Fuck off ,” Tommy snapped violently, pushing Ranboo away this time.

     But it didn’t matter. Tommy was in range of Tubbo now and… instinctively, Tommy and Tubbo grasped hands, squeezing them until the knuckles turned white. Though he still breathed shaky breaths, Tommy stopped trembling, and even if he was still giving a thousand-yard stare, Tubbo’s face stopped being screwed together quite so tightly. It had worked; It had worked. 

     Ranboo silently took Michael, who was handed off by a grateful Tubbo, and assumed the same shielding position over him, covering his son’s ears. He looked at Wilbur, desperate for validation that he had made the right call. Wilbur nodded silently, and Ranboo breathed out in relief.

     The wail of the sirens didn't stop. Seconds ticked away into minutes until eventually even the fear and anticipation became monotonous. “This sucks ass, ” Tommy complained, and scoffed at Tubbo when he shot an automatic look of disapproval at him for the cursing. “What? His ears are covered,” Tommy said, nodding towards Michael-- hm, fair point. 

     "Is there somewhere quieter we could go from here?" Ranboo asked, and Tommy shook his head frantically. 

     "Not without-- WAIT YES! THE WAR ROOM!" Just how Tommy managed to achieve ear-shattering volume even over the world's loudest siren, Ranboo would never know. 

     Coiled anxiety finally giving way to action, Tommy sprung upward, and Tubbo, still holding his hand and rather alarmed, shot upwards right after him. 

     "This way, this way, follow me!" Tommy urged, so Ranboo hoisted Michael up and held him against his chest with one arm (still covering his good ear with the other) to follow. He noticed with a keen eye that Wilbur cast a suspicious glance at the door, almost as if he intended to stay, or fight, or something, but Tommy called "Wilbur come on! Hurry!" and well, with the desperate pleading of his brother the choice had been made for him, so he followed after Ranboo through the very solid, very hidden trapdoor.

     Ranboo had never actually seen the inside of Tommy's basement before. He observed silently as the wailing grew quiet, muffled by the trapdoor and stone of the mountain the home was built into. Labyrinthine was not quite the word to describe it, but there was an unlit, massive arena that looked to be an unfinished gym behind a half-wall and dusty glass, as well as a second carrot farm (had he known about that?) and actual storage units. 

     Tubbo, sensing Ranboo's confusion and clearly knowing where they were going already, took Michael from Ranboo, no longer needing to cover the little tyke's ears because the noise had gone from painful to uncomfortable. Ranboo immediately pulled out his notebook and wrote some things down. 

     "Ranboo, come on man," Wilbur urged, and Ranboo startled, realized he was being left behind and Tommy and Tubbo with Michael had disappeared. 

     "There's more? " Ranboo asked, but he went to where Wilbur was and sure enough, another trapdoor. 

     Wilbur waited once more until everyone else was safe, before following and carefully latching the door behind them. There was a look in his eye that Ranboo was wary of. Not for danger reasons, for Lethe in charge of safety reasons. Wait. What language had his notes been in? … Which notebook had he written in? He tried to shake it off-- it didn't matter right now. Safety, safety. To the war room. Wilbur was following, because Wilbur was prioritizing Tommy. Things were working out exactly as planned.

     As Wilbur latched the trapdoor above and Ranboo's feet hit the floor, the wailing of the siren all but stopped. It was there, a constant background noise, but quiet now that it could easily be drowned out. Not so easily ignored, by the looks on everyone's faces but Michael, but drowned out. 

     "What's happenin?!? " Michael asked in a loud whine, tired of being the only one confused. 

     There was a resounding silence as all the adults in the room realized just how hard the situation was to explain. Ranboo, with the least concern and the most information (not that anybody else knew that, he hoped), crouched down to speak with his son. 

     "Sirens go off when something dangerous is happening," Ranboo explained. They didn't exactly have tornados or tsunamis in this region, but… it was kind of the same principle, more or less. "When something dangerous happens, you have to stay inside to make sure you're safe." 

     Michael frowned his cute piggy frown. "But why is it so loud?" 

     Wilbur piped up from where he stood by the ladder still, a twitch in his bones that Ranboo alone noticed. "So that everyone can hear it no matter how far away they are. If we were farther away from the siren, it'd be quiet, but we'd still be able to hear it and know there was a danger." 

     Michael huffed. "So what's the danger?!?" Well, he had them there. How did you explain an abusive war general to a kid? 

     "It's probably nothing, and just a false alarm," Tubbo said, at the exact same time that Tommy said "It means a very scary man is loose in the server." 

     Tubbo shot Tommy a look and a sharp elbow jab in the ribs, but Tommy just winced quietly and Tubbo's gaze softened. "I probably shouldn't've built the place outta blackstone," Tommy mumbled pathetically, eyes glancing over the bricks all-too-similar to the prison. 

     Their silence only served as a reminder to the situation they were in, their talking no longer drowning out the wail that could still be heard through stone and doors. It was unbearable. But more importantly, Wilbur looked like he was about to murder somebody or something. And Ranboo would not fail. He would not let Wilbur endanger himself or others or Dream by going off and doing something self-destructive. There had to be a solution to the nerve-eating silence, the pressure and terror of the droning sound. 

     "We should play music," Ranboo said suddenly. The phrase alone was enough to shock a little bit of fear out of the group. 

     "What?" Tommy asked. 

     "We should play music," Ranboo reiterated, "It'll drown out the noise." 

     Tommy looked hesitant, Tubbo looked confused. Wilbur on the other hand was thinking. 

     "I dunno, Ranboo, what if-- what if he hears it? What if he hears it and finds us?" Tommy asked.

     Ranboo paid close attention to the look on Michael's face at that. He was such a thinker, taking after Tubbo. His heart ached that Michael was in this position, but he was safe. They were all safe. He wasn't sure how to reply to Tommy, though. Not after everything. So it was to his shock when Wilbur spoke up.

     "Nobody's going to hear anything over that siren," Wilbur pointed out. 

     "Yeah, not to mention we're three floors down under solid stone," Tubbo added. "He'd have to already be in the basement to hear it, and at that point we're fucked anyway, so." Tubbo shrugged. 

     " Hey!" Michael shouted, aghast, and Tubbo flushed. 

     "Sorry Michael," Tubbo apologized, flustered. 

     "Well… what disc should we listen to then?" Tommy asked uncomfortably. He was giving the idea a shot. This was good. Things were working. Everything according to plan. 

     "What do you have?" asked Michael, eager to do something that wasn't standing around being confused-- frankly, Ranboo was with him on that. 

     Tommy did his best to put on a brave face for the little piglin. The war room, of course, mainly had a table and some chairs (although nobody was sitting), but Ranboo knew that there were hidden chests everywhere under the floorboards. There was also an enderchest in the corner, and Tommy looked through it now to tell Michael the options. "We have Cat, Blocks, Mellohi, uh… Pigstep…" Tommy read aloud to Michael, who was peering over Tommy's shoulder to stare questioningly into the enderchest. 

     "I don't see anything," Michael said disappointedly. 

     Tubbo patted the little guy on the shoulder. "It's magic," he explained simply, which for a little kid was enough to go "Ohhhhhhh " and just accept it. 

     "We should play pigstep," Wilbur suggested, leaning against the ladder and pretending he wasn't stressed, "Because it's upbeat and fun." 

     Michael shot him a look. "Uncle Tommy asked me ! I get to decide!" 

     Wilbur blinked. "Good point, sorry kiddo," he said softly, "What do you want to play then?"

      Michael scrunched up his little piggy nose, thinking very hard about this super serious decision. "I know! We should play pigstep, because it's fun." 

     Wilbur tried his hardest to not look incredulous at the audacity, as Tommy replied "Good choice, little man." 

     Tubbo, Ranboo noted, had been unusually quiet, but when pigstep started playing and Tommy started dancing with Michael, the two of them forced Tubbo to join in and even if he was the world's most stoic dancer in that moment, he bobbed his knees enough to sate the two and hopefully keep himself distracted. 

     "Come on, Tubbo, dance a little harder," Ranboo teased, sidling up to the man and sliding a hand around his waist. Tubbo rolled his eyes and swatted Ranboo away, so he did it again until Tubbo caved. 

     Michael ran laps around the room and decided to try to teach Wilbur of all people some of the traditional piglin dance moves that Technoblade had shared with him. Ranboo scribbled down in his notebook that it softened Wilbur up to be included that way, that even he was now distracted.

     They played Pigstep on repeat about three times, and by the third, everyone was a little tired of dancing to the same song. They also noticed something. The siren was gone. 

     "Do you reckon it's safe out there now?" Tommy asked, "Or just that it's worse?" 

     They all thought about it for a moment. 

     "I bet it's safe now," Ranboo said, confident. Because he knew the answer. But they didn't need to know that, now did they. The why wasn't important. It was the fact that they were safe that was important. 

     "Maybe we should go back up and check," Wilbur said, suspicion coloring his voice. 

     "I'll go," Tubbo immediately volunteered, and Wilbur stiffened, likely assuming self-sacrifice as a motivator. "I have a bloodlust in me about all that and I'd like to get to do something about it." 

     Ranboo frowned a little at that. Well, alright, it made him swoon a little, he had to admit, but Michael was right there! "I wanna come too!" Speaking of.

     "Aw, no, it might still be dangerous Michael," Tubbo said, tone instantly switching. Ranboo's eyes shifted from his husband and son. Wilbur was already up and out the trapdoor. 

     "Wilbur beat you to it," Ranboo pointed out. 

     "Hey no fair!" Tubbo shouted up the ladder. 

     Wilbur, predictably, did not dignify that with a response. 

     "I don't really wanna stand around here waiting to find out one way or the other," Tommy huffed, almost resigned. "May as well go out there and get it over with."

     Tubbo gaped as Tommy started climbing the ladder after his brother. "So we're all just going up anyways?" He grumbled. 

     "Seems like it," Ranboo said, trying to keep a smile out of his voice from the affection of the way his ridiculous family operated. His family didn't know it was safe the way he did; he didn't want to make light of the situation, for their sake. 

     Tubbo let out a massive sigh, Michael tilting his head at the sound. "Alright, well. Boo, do you wanna stay down here with Michael while I go up with the others?" 

     "Not really," Ranboo said bluntly-- "But that's because I'm more worried about you guys being unsupervised than I am Michael here." Michael puffed up proudly and giggled a bit at that, and Ranboo sent him a small smile. That was the truth, even if he'd phrased it funny. He didn't want any of them to go crazy with bloodlust and attack the cornered animal that Dream had become, because that would just lead to everyone getting hurt, and it would be stupid. 

     Besides… he hated to admit this to himself, but having Michael with the group would keep them all a little on edge and a little less willing to do self-destructive things. 

     Tubbo looked at Ranboo funny for a few moments, trying to figure him out. With a jolt, Ranboo realized just how small the man looked in this moment. Some of it was trauma, some worry, but Tubbo looked physically small-- Ranboo hadn't realized that he had been standing at his full height, hair brushing the ceiling every now and again. Tall and confident. Full of memories. 

     "I trust you," Tubbo concluded eventually, and started up the ladder-- "Come on Boo, Michael." 

     Michael jumped with glee at finally being out of the weird place and weird situation. "I'm with you, buddy," Ranboo agreed-- "Up you get." 

     "Hey!" Michael squealed in giggling protest as Ranboo hoisted him most of the way up the ladder before he could even try to climb it. "I'm right behind ya." 

     Up the ladder and out the front doors, nothing appeared different than it had when they'd gone into the bunker and the war room. Wilbur was standing and staring at the prison in total silence, and Tommy was pacing around his yard. Tubbo was trailing behind him like a nervous duckling. 

     "Why is everyone bein so weird? " Michael asked with a confused little snort. "Everythin looks fine to me." 

     Ranboo couldn't help it, he laughed at that. "You're right, sorry," Ranboo explained, "You're right. It does LOOK the same." 

     He couldn't figure out how to articulate what he wanted to say, so instead, he crouched down. "Michael, I want you to stay in Uncle Tommy's yard right now, okay? Don't leave the fenced area, stay where we can see you-- no hide and seek, I mean it-- and yell at the top of your lungs if you see a stranger. Other than that, I think you're alright to go play if you want." 

     Michael considered this for a moment before nodding seriously. "Okay!" The little piglin immediately ran off to Tommy's garden to inspect all the carrots one by one and look for bugs.

     With Michael distracted, Ranboo turned his attention back to the other adults with a sharp gaze. Noting how everyone was reacting and acting, looking for twitches and urges that would need to be quelled. He did notice a lot of other people milling about on the prime path-- there was a murmur filling with the air, people discussing in hushed voices what the siren could've meant and why it could've stopped. 

     Ranboo was facing the way the front doors of Tommy's house faced, looking down the hill, down the prime path, and keeping an eye on the yard. He wasn't looking in the direction of the prison. 

     He should have been. 

     Apparently, in the brief few moments his back had been turned, Michael had moved from the garden to try to climb up the hill Tommy's house was built into, because that's where his squeal of alarm came from.

     Tubbo's sword shot out as Michael ran to shove his face into Ranboo's leg. 

     "Easy, fellas," A familiar, smooth voice said, and the hair on the back of Ranboo's neck prickled. "It's just me," said Sam, eyeing up Tubbo's sword with what was clearly disdain. 

     "I told Michael to yell really loud if he saw a stranger," Ranboo explained to his husband and also Sam by proxy. Tubbo grumbled and put his sword away, but he still looked at Sam very warily. Sam noticed Michael hiding and crouched down a little. 

     "Hey buddy," the creeper hybrid said sweetly, "I'm Sam. It's nice to meet you." Michael said nothing, only gripping Ranboo's leg tighter. Sam sighed, almost disappointed, before standing up to his full height again. "Back to business then I take it."

     "And what is your business?" Tubbo grilled. 

     " Yeah, " Tommy piped up, "Why are you here, and not, y'know," he made a wide gesture with his hands, "Out looking for Dream? " 

     Sam looked at Tommy coldly, and the man shriveled under his gaze. "That is why I'm here. I was thinking that he might come here, come after you, so I wanted to make sure you were safe." 

     "Oh," Tommy said meekly. 

     Sam's gaze flitted to Wilbur and Tubbo, and then Ranboo. "I was going to check on you two next," Sam said of Wilbur and Tubbo, "But it's very interesting to me that you're all here in one place already." 

     "I guess it was a lucky coincidence," Ranboo offered. "I mean, I'm glad we had eachother while those sirens were going off." Murmurs of agreement from his family members backed him up, but Sam stared him down. 

     "I see." Sam paused, casting a glance at Michael, before staring at Ranboo again. "Ranboo, there's no easy way to ask this, but… do you know where Dream went?" 

     No. He'd explicitly asked to not be included in that part of the discussion-- at least for now-- for this very reason. "Why would I know that?" Ranboo asked in his best impression of confused. "I don't know, obviously, but still." 

     The Warden stood there, in full netherite armor that bristled with dangerous enchantments and adorned with thorns, staring down the enderman hybrid. Down being a relative term. Ranboo was at his full height, after all, because even if he had let the static overtake him, let his memories wash away in a flood of guilt and shame and contradictory emotions, he refused to back down against this man. Especially knowing what he'd done. 

     He-- he wasn't supposed to know what the creeper hybrid had been accomplice to-- but in this moment, standing there with his family behind him, both literally and figuratively-- he didn't think even the Warden had the guts to try anything. Michael squeezed Ranboo's leg so tight he knew it was going to bruise later. 

     Sam backed down.

     "Well…" Sam said slowly, "Alright. I'm glad everyone is safe. If you know anything-- anything at all-- please tell me immediately." 

     "How are we supposed to do that if you're out running around trying to find the convict?" Wilbur piped up with a sniff. 

     Ranboo had to hand it to his brother-- the man's confidence was unrivaled. Or maybe it was hubris. But still. He didn't shrink or stiffen in the presence of the warden, just seemed bored with the posturing. It was honestly kind of thrilling to see it applied to a man so feared and respected. 

     Sam rolled his eyes. "You go to the prison and tell one of my guards. We're taking shifts between searching and sitting watch, so it may be me there instead. Just tell somebody if you know something, okay?" 

     There was an awkward moment where everyone just stood around before Sam pointed out: "I have to pass through Tommy's yard if I want to walk down the Prime Path, you know." Tommy nodded with a puff of pride at that, and they all let him through. 

     Sam passed one final glance at Ranboo before he walked away. He said nothing, but something about the gaze made Ranboo shiver. He didn't like the way Sam had looked at Michael when questioning him, either. It made him uneasy. Could nobody else see that Sam was more dangerous than Dream? 

     "That guy was scary," Michael muttered, finally letting go of Ranboo's leg. Those little hooved fingertips could hurt when they wanted to, holy cow. 

     "He didn't used to be," Tubbo quietly spoke. 

     Nobody said anything more, so Michael prodded. "But why is he now? Does he have to be?"

     Tommy furrowed his brow in thought and Wilbur looked up to the sky, thinking on how to answer. 

     "He thinks he has to be mean and scary now," Ranboo explained. "Because he thinks that being mean and scary will keep other mean and scary things away. It doesn't really work like that, but that's what he believes." 

     Michael wrinkled up his cute little piglin nose in an imitation of Tommy. "Well I think he should be nice!" 

     Somebody sighed in remorse, somebody giggled. Ranboo wasn't really sure anymore. The static was taking over, stress from the day finally winning out. He wrote something down in his journal; it was in a language he wouldn't be able to read later, at least not for a little while.

     "I heard he used to bake pumpkin pies," Tubbo said thoughtfully. "And handed them out to everybody. You got a whole bunch if you'd just moved in." 

     Michael squealed, astonished. "What! Well he should do that again! I want pie!" 

     Wilbur squinted, in a hang-on-a-minute sort of way. "You just had candied golden carrots, kiddo. Shouldn't you have some real dinner first?" 

     "But those are carrots, Wil," Tommy objected, "They don't count. They're a vegetable, innit?" 

     Wilbur looked at the man, incredulous. "Pumpkins are a vegetable too you stupid child." 

     "Uncle Wilbur that's mean!" Michael pouted, poking him sharply in the ribs. 

     "Ow-- hey-- ow!" Wilbur protested as Tubbo joined in the jabbing just for kicks. 

     Things were okay right now. Everyone was relaxing. It would be hard to keep them all this way, but for now, Lethe's job was done. He could relax. Ranboo could spend time with his family.

Chapter Text

     "There you are!" Punz hissed as soon as Ranboo was out of sight of the main portal, grabbing their arm and pulling them into the side tunnel. They immediately blocked it off before rounding on Ranboo again. "What took you so long?!?"

     Ranboo sighed, leaning against the wall and doing his best to not tower over Punz. "My husband and child were still terrified," he explained simply. "They wouldn't sleep. I finally managed to convince them to drink some tea and got them to pass out so I could sneak out."

     "You drugged them?" Punz asked with a raised eyebrow, sounding impressed.

     "Yeah, with honey and chamomile."

     Punz rolled their eyes. "Alright, fair enough. Come on, this way. And drink this. You'd better be you right now because I do not want to go back to this shitshow alone."

     Ranboo's mood went from relieved to see his friend to deep concern, but he didn't hesitate in taking the swiftness potion Punz had handed them. "Well that doesn't sound good. Is it about the plan?"

     "Or something like it," Punz muttered. "When isn't it about the plan?"

     Ranboo wasn't sure whether or not Punz had meant for him to hear that second bit, so he said nothing, instead following along at the quick pace that the mercenary had set. Which was pretty easy to do with his long strides, potion notwithstanding.

     The tunnel only lasted a short amount of time, and suddenly they were on the other side of a netherrack divide and facing a long stretch of soulsand at midway up. The "soul speed" enchantment did a lot of heavy lifting here. With the souls trapped in the grainy substance pushing them away instead of trying to pull them in, combined with the swiftness potion they'd taken, Punz and Ranboo were making time at a dizzying pace.

     "Nobody's going to be looking for him in the Nether," Punz explained as they travelled, "Because every idiot in the region thinks he's out looking for Them, Specifically. So it's fine to travel in the open in the nether, as long as we're fast and cautious. Philza's words, not mine."

     "Definitely fast," Ranboo agreed. And Phil's logic was always pretty sound.

     There were a few times here and there the two needed to go through a basalt delta instead of the wastes, making hops and jumps over the terrain instead of smoothing it down (that would be far too obvious), but it didn't last long and still wound up being fairly straightforward. Finally, at the edge of a crimson forest, Punz stopped and caught their breath. "We shouldn't stay out here like this long," They explained, "But it's right through here-- let me move this shit outta the way."

     Ranboo stood back and allowed themselves their own little rest break as Punz cleared away some netherrack to reveal a second (but much briefer) tunnel. 

     "Philza said we're next to this biome because piglins are territorial and won't like anybody coming to hunt on their land," Punz explained as Ranboo stepped through and they began sealing them in. "Not that I blame them. Food is really hard to come by here. But anyways-- it just means we get an early warning system."

     Ranboo nodded in pride. It would be Philza to find a way to alert them to potential danger without even needing to set a trap-- a trap would, after all, confirm that they were there. This way, it remained ambiguous.

     "It's further out than I thought it would be," Ranboo said idly.

     Punz nodded. "That part was my idea, actually. I didn't want Sam or Quackity finding him, even if it is a temporary location."

     With a gesture, they both headed deeper into the tunnel, and a small room greeted them, the portal itself filling the whole wall.

     "The portal leads into a regular cave to also reduce suspicion," Punz clarified before they entered, "And then we hollowed out a section of stone to make the temporary base. Dream is…" they sighed, trailing off.

     "Panicking, right?" Ranboo finished for them.

     Punz nodded. "Yeah. That's an understatement."

     "I can't stay long," Ranboo reminded them.

     "I know. Just… see what you can do?"

     Ranboo nodded, and together they stepped into the portal.

     "Ranboo. Ranboooooooooooooooo. Boo get up. Boo it's past your wake-up time wake uppppp, " Tubbo whined from his place standing over the bed, shaking Ranboo back and forth by his shoulders.

     "Okay, okay, I'm up," Ranboo mumbled, rolling over and shoving his face further in the pillow, very much not up.

     " Ranboooooooooooooo! "

     Grumbling a little, Ranboo rolled back over and swung his feet off the bed. "Okay," he said with a massive yawn that dislocated his jaw, "I'm up. Geez, it feels like I didn't sleep at all last night."

     "Should've had tea with Michael and I then," Tubbo snarked as he took Ranboo by the hands and pulled him to a standing position. Well, fine. Now that he was up, Ranboo grabbed some clean clothes from the closet and began getting dressed.

     "If you're quick there might still be breakfast," Tubbo enticed.

     "Are you threatening to eat all the cereal?"

     "No. I made pancakes," Tubbo replied with a sheepish grin.

     "Without burning the house down? Impressive."

     Tubbo huffed. "You don't get any if you keep that up."

     Ranboo laughed; "Alright, alright, I'm coming," and, hopping into his pants, he followed Tubbo down the stairs.

     Sure enough, there were pancakes, and they were only partially burnt. Michael had already eaten, and Ranboo could hear him playing in the room next-door.

     Sitting down with a fork and his plate of slightly-burnt pancakes, Ranboo opened his journal to read while he ate. He frowned; a few of the more recent pages were in the language he only used while sleep-walking. But there was also a scribbled note about "training with Techno in the afternoon", which he noted aloud to Tubbo:

     "Seems like I promised to meet Techno today to do some training or something."

     Tubbo, who had been in the midst of grabbing Ranboo's empty plate and fork, paused.

     "I heard a rumor that Techno was involved with Dream escaping," he began cautiously.

     Ranboo thought a bit, swallowing his last bite. "Who started the rumor?"

     Tubbo grinned. "Quackity."

     Ranboo snorted. "Well there you go, then."

     "Yeah," Tubbo agreed; "Yeah." Though he sounded uncertain.

     "Well I won't get hurt," Ranboo promised, "And I won't let anybody else get hurt either." And then, against his better judgement, he added: "I'd be more worried about Sam."

     Tubbo sat down across from him, folding his arms on the table. "Yeah? Why Sam?"

     Ranboo swallowed nervously. "I… I think he looked at Michael funny the other day when we were talking to him and he asked us if we knew where Dream was. It didn't feel right."

     Tubbo's expression grew dark. "I'll keep that in mind, boss-man."

     Ranboo nodded curtly. "Good."

     He stood up to leave, about to go to Technoblade's, but Tubbo stood up too, rounding the table corner fast, and grabbed his arm. Ranboo turned to look at his husband, and his eyes and heart softened.

     "Ranboo. I'm scared."

     "I know, Tubbo," Ranboo answered quietly as the man took a shaky breath in.

     "I'm scared that-- I'm on my last life. You know that. And Michael-- and Tommy and--"

     "I know," Ranboo said again, love and empathy in his voice, reassurance in the grip he placed on Tubbo's palm as he gently removed it from his arm.

     "But I promise, I promise, that everything is going to be okay."

     "But what if-- something stupid-- they all--"

     "Tubbo," Ranboo shushed gently. "Phil gave Wilbur a Grand Talk yesterday. Really drilled it into his head, from what I understand, that Wil's main goal is to stay alive and keep Tommy from making stupid decisions. And I think Wilbur took it to heart."

     Tubbo nodded, eyes watering, listening.

     "And Wilbur has agreed to house with Tommy for the time being, in case Dream decides to go after him. And," he continued with a breath, "I'm not doubting Tommy's fears, here, but if Dream was going to do that, wouldn't that be the first thing he'd do?"

     Tubbo nodded with a shaky sigh. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right."

     Ranboo drew his husband into a deep hug, and Tubbo allowed himself to relax in Ranboo's arms.

     "It's gonna be hard, Boo," Tubbo mumbled from his place on Ranboo's chest. "It's gonna be hard."

     "It is," Ranboo agreed quietly. "But I promise you, everything is going to be okay. We'll find a way." I'll find a way, Ranboo thought. The Syndicate will. No more war, or torture, or death.

     Tubbo allowed himself one small more moment of reprieve before he pushed himself off of Ranboo's chest and out of his hug, wiping his nose on his sleeve with a sniffle. 

     "Right. Today I'm just gonna, stay home with Michael. Puffy was gonna babysit but she backed out so she could do in-house sessions with Tommy. That was a good choice though, I agree with it. Michael and I will work on our piglish and english reading and shit. Maybe do some arts and crafts."

     Ranboo nodded. "That's a great idea. I'm gonna go meet with Technoblade to train-- if we are worried about a fight, it wouldn't hurt to practice."

     "Stay safe please," Tubbo urged.

     "I will," Ranboo said, and then once more, with the confidence of The Syndicate behind him, knowing they were behind him in every move-- "I will."

     "Ranboo! There you are!" Techno called out as Ranboo stepped through the fence gate. For some reason he got a feeling of deja vu. 

     "Here I am," he replied lamely. He flipped through his memory book as he walked to greet the large piglin, who was donned in his full netherite attire. It looked like it had been recently mended. "My book said we were sparring today?" He asked, seeking clarification.

     Techno ushered him inside in response, looking around and over his shoulder nervously. "Somethin like that, somethin like that." He shut the cabin door behind them, and Ranboo stood inside, confused.

     "Hey, where's Phil?"

     "Faaarrr awayyy," Techno said, "Don't worry about it, don't worry about it. Look, you haven't seen Sam or Quackity anywhere, have you?"

     "Not since the day Dream escaped," Ranboo confessed, adding: "Though it was only Sam I saw then. He seemed suspicious. Well, I mean, he was suspicious, obviously, but he seemed suspicious that I was hanging out with Tubbo and Michael and Wilbur at Tommy's place." He thought for a moment. "And… I worry he might threaten Michael."

     "That's good, that's good," Techno mentioned absently. "--I mean, it's not good that he threatened Michael, but it's good that you haven't seen him. Or that he hasn't threatened you directly, I mean," he clarified.

     "Mhm," Ranboo nodded, confused. There was an itch in the back of his brain. He was forgetting something. Well, he was always forgetting something, but this seemed important.

     "Did you bring anything with you?" Techno asked nervously, rummaging around in his chests. Usually that was indicative that he was panicking in some way. Was there something to panic about? Sam and Quackity, his brain answered; Duh.

     "I mean… I'm wearing my good armor, with thorns on it, so we can spar," Ranboo replied-- "And I have… let's see… a bunch of golden carrots, a lot of steak, my tools…" He frowned as he brought out his axe to inspect. He thought he'd brought his regular one, but… this was the axe The Council had given him, the name on the handle engraved in a language that was familiar and yet somehow… not. "I have this axe," Ranboo finished lamely.

     "Good, good, yes. Mmmplanning mmmdefinitely nothing going wrong mmm," Techno said, and then he started tossing potion bottles at Ranboo from out of his chests. "Here, just-- just take these, okay, take these. Fire res, instant health, invis, instant damage-- don't drink that one-- let's see, let's see-- strength--"

     Ranboo was struggling to catch and pack all of these. "Hang-- hang on, Techno, wait, I have to--" Techno did not stop tossing him potions, so Ranboo just dumped his pack on the floor and then started shoving things back inside, piles of debris be darned.

     "--Annnnd that should do it. Unless-- do you want potion of the turtle master? Nah, nah, that's too much, that's too much."

     "Technoblade," Ranboo interrupted, exasperated, "What's going on? " His thumb brushed against the engraving on the axe handle, familiar. This axe was heavy, new, and gleamed with a single purpose. It made him uncomfortable. The weight to it was also metaphorical, radiating duty and obligation. His brain was buzzing.

     Technoblade finally paused, looking up at Ranboo. "Ah, right. The memory issues."

     He then immediately went back to looking through his own potions. 

     "Are we expecting a fight?" Ranboo asked, grip on his axe tightening. "I mean, a real fight."

     Before Techno had time to answer, there was a knock on the door. That was an answer in and of itself. Straightening up, Technoblade went to the door, and Ranboo got ready to pull his axe out.

     It wasn't even three seconds later, Techno had barely moved to the door, before they heard muffled voices-- 

     "Wellp, looks like nobody's home, guess we gotta leave."

     "No we do NOT have to leave. This was your idea! We aren't leaving until he hears us out."

     Anticipation and anxiety about an impending fight was nigh immediately replaced with confusion and wariness, and Techno opened the door normally. " Hullo?"

     Badboyhalo and Antfrost stood on the porch. They were in armor, but it wasn't the gleam of off-the-shelf standard prison armor, it was their personal armor.

     "So Sam is sendin his goons after me?" Techno asked, tense, Ranboo easily peering over the man's shoulder.

     Ant laughed lightheartedly. "He'd love to, I'm sure, but we aren't his goons anymore . We quit." Ant quietly and casually removed a bottle of applejuice from Bad's hands.

     That gave Techno pause, but for some reason it made perfect sense to Ranboo.

     "I don't blame you," he piped up, making himself known but feeling no threat in the situation. In fact, he was starting to feel hopeful.

     "I don't think Sam was even feeding him," Bad slurred out, distressed, and Ant patted the demon on his shoulders.

     When it became clear that Bad was too apple-drunk to continue, Ant sighed and spoke for the both of them:

     "We came here to help."

     "HEH?!?"

     "We did!" Bad protested, "Honest!" He lifted his hand up to his mouth, presumably to take another swig, and then frowned at the lack of drink in his hand. Ranboo had to stifle a giggle as Ant shot Ranboo a knowing look and shook his head; no snitching .

     "The working conditions sucked," Ant explained, as Technoblade let out another "Heh?!?" 

     "I think I heard screaming," Bad added, voice trembling. He then attempted to straighten his posture, determined. "So-- so listen-- whatever you're doing, whatever you're-- you're planning-- we want in."

     "I mean… I…" Techno looked at the two former guards, and then to Ranboo, and then back to the two guards. "I'm not gonna lie-- I was not expectin this, like, at all. A fight, sure, but I wasn't expectin to make allies here. --Obviously I won't complain about that, but-- uh."

     Techno gave Bad a once-over. The demon had apparently drank most of a bottle of applejuice, and Ant quietly tossed the half-bottle off the porch and to the side of the cabin, where it sunk into the snow without a sound. Ranboo was certain Ant would pick it up later. 

     "Y'know-- I'd usually ask how I could trust two foRMER GOONS to be in on a plan-- assumin I have one-- but I get the feelin this is genuine. Badboyhalo, if you could please refrain from drinkin applejuice on my property, I'd appreciate it."

     "It's just applejuice," Bad muttered in protest, but obliged.

     "I think they're being honest," Ranboo offered.

     Techno sighed. "See, that's what I was afraid of. That means I have to invite them in so they don't freeze."

     "I mean, it'd be nice to not freeze, yeah," Ant said, very tip of his tail twitching in amusement.

     "Fine, fine, but tell me the whole story once we're in. I wanna get to the bottom of this."

     "Deal."

     "Here," Ranboo offered, handing Bad a healing potion as the four of them retreated into the warmth of the house. Techno still seemed rather on edge, but mostly his fight-readiness had been replaced with confusion, and he'd decided to hear out Antfrost as Ranboo helped the demon.

     Bad drank the healing potion with surprisingly little suspicion, hiccuped once, and then went flushed in the face.

     "I uh… sorry about that. Overworld foods can sometimes be…" Bad coughed awkwardly. "Sometimes food that isn't from your home dimension can give you weird reactions. Sapnap never had any trouble with it. I don't know why it works that way." He sighed, and put his head in his hands.

     "Do you want to talk about it?" Ranboo asked, and the demon looked up at him. "You were employed as a guard for a long time. Why did you only just quit?"

     Guilt was written all over Bad's face.

     "Only just… I was… under the influence of The Egg. I didn't pay attention to anything, because I wasn't myself. I think something about it, or me, made me the perfect candidate for its plot. It had Skeppy, it-- it had Skeppy-- and-- I couldn't think about anything else. I couldn't afford to."

     Ranboo nodded; he thought he understood, at least a little. If anything happened to Tubbo or Michael… he wasn't sure what he would do. He wasn't sure he'd be any better than Bad was when Bad was under the power of The Egg.

     "Dream…" Bad speaks, the words choking themselves on his emotions. "He wasn't my son. But he was friends with mine, and I-- I watched him grow up. I don't know what happened, or why he wound up that way, or why Sam--" 

     The emotion really was too much for the demon now, and he broke down sobbing. Antfrost came to sit beside him, wrapping his arm around him. 

     " Cringe emotion, criiiiiiiiiinge, " Technoblade heckles, and it works to lighten the mood as Bad shoots him a look.

     " Ay!"

     "Look, Bad, it's gonna be okay now," Ant says, taking the opportunity to reassure him. "He's not in prison anymore. "

     Bad's lip quivers. "Yeah but-- but-- when he was in there--" The demon once again puts his head in his hands. "Why didn't we do something?" He mumbles, distraught.

     "We couldn't have even if we'd wanted to," Ant replies simply. "I mean, have you seen Sam lately? And even if we'd killed him, he's still the only one who has access to anything in the prison. He could've locked us up too and then we'd be less help than we can be now."

     Bad wipes at his eyes with his sleeve and sighs. "Yeah… you're right. But I still hate it."

     "I do too," Ant affirms.

     "So, I'm glad we're havin this nice little chat instead of a big messy fight with the prison goons in my front yard, but, ah, remind me again why you're here exactly?"

     Ant and Bad both straighten up, sending a piercing gaze to Techno. Ranboo shivers a little, his enderman instincts not quite reacting but disliking it all the same. 

     "Because it's not over. Sam and Quackity are planning something else. And if you're gonna need all the help you can get, we want to help with it," Ant says with fire in his voice.

     "We owe it to Dream," Bad adds.

     "I'm not gonna lie, I really coulda used a man on the inside," Techno says awkwardly, and Ant flushes a little, embarrassed. 

     "We uh… we weren't thinking that far ahead when we quit," he offers lamely. "Just thinking about how shitty the whole thing was."

     " Language!"

     Ant rolls his eyes. "I could see if Sam would take me back, but I kinda doubt it. Still though, I'd be willing to try." He shoots a look at Bad, as if knowing what the demon is about to say.

     "I don't think I could," Bad says, deflating a little. "I don't think I could do that again. I'm uh… not the best at hiding my emotions."

     "Not to mention you were drunk," Ant adds smugly.

     "I was not--!" There was a pause. "Not on purpose!" Bad pouts.

     The other three laugh, poking fun but not in a mean way. Ranboo looks at Techno; his mentor should know what to do here. Ranboo certainly didn't. The sincerity in the ex-guards' faces was obvious, though. As was the fear and guilt and rage and sorrow. Especially sorrow. It didn't surprise Ranboo that Bad had turned against Sam, not when the demon was so strongly emotional. A texture memory tingled at Ranboo's fingertips-- waxy paper, not quite a map. He couldn't place it.

     Techno had begun pacing around his cabin again, but less anxious this time, deep in thought. Ranboo noted with mild amusement that Ant's tail was twitching, as was Bad's.

     "Look, can we be in or not? We want to help," Ant says firmly, impatient and slightly anxious.

     "I'm thinkin', alright?" Techno huffs as a reply, but then sighs. "Alright, alright. Listen. I don't know how you'd be able to help yet. I can't exactly confirm your motivations. Where-- where do you guys even live?" He asks; it's a lead-up to another question with a proper answer, but there is pure curiosity in his voice.

     "Uh… well I live on my farm," Antfrost replies.

     "I don't think he knows where that is, Ant," Bad mutters to Ant, amused.

     "Oh. Right. But-- y'know, for the next few days I think I'm gonna stay at Bad's place. At least for now." He turns to Bad. "You have spare rooms, right?"

     "It's a mansion, of course I have spare rooms," Bad replies smugly and indignantly.

     "Riiight. How could I forget," Ant rolls his eyes, and stands up. "Anyways. Bad's mansion is pretty close to the prison, actually. Should be visible from the Prime Path."

     Techno nods. "Ahyep. So if I want to contact you…"

     "We'll be there," Bad affirms, standing as well.

     Techno claps his hands together. "Right! Well, thank you for visitin, I'm glad I didn't have to deal with corpses on my lawn, I'll find you if I need you."

     Bad protests the insinuation that he would've lost the fight as Ant, holding onto the demon's shoulders, pushes him backwards out the door. His parting words are "I hope you do." Ranboo stands up to follow, stretching tall, peeking his torso out the door and waving. Ant scoops up the bottle he'd tossed and Bad almost immediately tries to snatch it back, to no avail. They're very quickly out of sight.

     "I can confirm their motivations if you want," Ranboo offers to Techno as soon as they are. Techno raises an eyebrow at him.

     "Sam told us to tell the guards stationed at the prison entrance if we saw anything. I could make a false report and at the same time, inquire about where Bad or Ant are."

     "I dunno, Ranboo… that sounds kinda risky."

     Ranboo hums. "Maybe. I'm not usually a good liar. Except for when I am."

     "Ah yes, of course," Techno smirks with a guffaw. "I'm bad at it except for when I'm good at it."

     Ranboo laughs as well-- "Okay, well, when you put it that way--" He looks inquisitively at his axe. Axe Of The End, it reads. Built for a single purpose-- and one he knows. "Don't worry though. I remember now. Which means I also remember how to lie." He shoots a sly grin at Techno, who seems to register that Ranboo is no longer slouching and uncertain.

     "Fair enough, fair enough. Well… just be careful, yeah? You've set your stasis chamber, right?"

     Ranboo is re-adjusting his armor so it sits right with decent posture, and hums and nods his affirmation. "Yup!" He adds, just to clarify. "I don't want to use it unless I absolutely have to, though. It'd raise suspicion to teleport out of a regular fight or whatever."

     " Ayyyy that's my disciple!" Techno puffs out his chest with pride. "You know how to play 'em. Alright, Ranboo-- go get 'em."

     Ranboo's hand is on the door when he hesitates, just for a moment. "Techno?" He asks, feeling out of place and too-tall in his own body. "I've been… sleepwalking a lot lately. Take care of Michael and Tubbo if anything happens, please."

     Technoblade looks at him strangely, but he nods. "I will, Ranboo, I will. I promise. I swear on the blood god. "

     Feeling relieved, Ranboo nods, and when he steps outside and stretches to his full height in the morning sun, he wonders why he was ever worried at all.