Chapter Text
The Farlands
Staying in the cell was somehow more miserable than it’d ever been before. His fingers were raw from the hopeless clawing at the unmoving mask, his voice hoarse from shouts that had gone unacknowledged.
He deserved this – Tubbo knew he deserved this. He had fucked this up, just like he always fucked everything up. All because he couldn’t just leave things alone.
After what could’ve been days or maybe mere hours, he heard footsteps outside the cell. He curled up at the head of the bed, instantly on edge as he tucked in his knees and folded his arms. He held his breath, entire body trembling, waiting for the door to burst open and be greeted with threats or yelling.
Instead, the door opened slowly, creaking as it swung wide to let Dream into the room. His face was calm, emotionless, and all around far more horrifying than any of his outbursts had ever been. He dragged a chair in behind him, the wood screeching against the stone floor, before sitting down to wait in silence.
Minutes passed, neither opting to break the tension. Tubbo stayed curled in the corner, cautious eyes trained on the hunter opposite him, like the prey he’d become.
“So.”
The sudden noise made him flinch, as if the single syllable could lash out. He nodded once, sheepishly, watching as Dream sat patiently in wait.
“Are the expectations clear?”
He nodded again.
“Good.” He stood, pushing the chair to rest against the wall as he walked out the door.
Tubbo didn’t react fast enough apparently, mind frozen and caught off guard by the chance to leave, as Dream turned back around once across the threshold with a sneer. “I guess expectations are not clear. I shouldn’t need to tell you to follow or what to do. You should be acting before I even think about ordering you. Now get up, I’m not going to repeat myself again.”
Tubbo quickly recovered and got to his feet, closing the gap to dutifully fall in step behind him.
“I said you would be one of my weapons.” He led them toward a section that, last he had explored, was nothing more than an empty hallway. “But I do not use weapons that have not been optimized.
“That being said–” He stepped through the door into what could best be described as an obstacle course from hell, turning to face him with the same bone-chilling apathy. “You’re going to prove you’re still worth my time or you’ll be discarded.”
Tubbo opened his mouth as if to reply but a resounding smack echoed through the room as the teen stumbled back after being struck.
“Weapons don’t speak. Now move.”
Every word died out, his survivalist panic overriding every aspect of his function.
I’m sorry, I can still be useful, I promise, please don’t throw me out, please.
Forgoing any verbal response, he crossed the threshold as well, cautiously scanning over the laid-out environment for any traps or hidden mechanisms.
“Start.”
As he completed run after run of the course, Tubbo had to adapt to his new reality.
Rather than receiving compliments on his improvements, the only feedback given was pain and admonishment for mistakes. Even the smallest missteps resulted in some sort of criticism, while the larger slip-ups were met with more aggressive hostility.
He quickly learned to prefer the silence that followed a job well done. Silence was good, silence meant no pain. Anything more would be a sign of some fuck up. There was no praise for success, no joy in his progress. This was a matter of survival, and old habits from days he’d thought long past started clawing back to the surface.
After a week of the torturous routine and daily accosting, Tubbo was desperate.
He had an idea. A fucking horrible idea that had almost no chance of succeeding, but at this point, he was willing to risk everything because he could feel himself failing, cracking at the seams under the pressure Dream was putting him under.
He had been standing behind Dream one night in the study while he had been going through some schematics and caught himself thinking, ‘Tubbo would have liked those.’
It was… terrifying to realize that he was identifying ‘Tubbo’ as something other than himself, as if that wasn’t him, as if his body and mind were something else, someone else .
He was going to run, if he could just get to the portal undetected, he could maybe, finally be free.
Who was he kidding, it was fucking pointless, really. He knew Dream would find him and it’d end with a blade in his chest, but he carried on anyway.
He managed to slip out one night as Dream hadn’t bothered to lock anything since putting the mask on him, the silent threat of punishment more than loud enough. He reached the obsidian frame without issue, suspiciously so but Tubbo didn’t care anymore. Not bothering to check for traps, he stepped through the shimmering curtain of light, the heat an unanticipatedly odd feeling as with the Dreamon’s ability to teleport, it wasn’t often they traveled through the hellish dimension anymore.
He went to wipe the sweat from his brow that had begun to form but was met with the dragonbone mask for the thousandth time. The urge to scratch at it rose up again, his breathing speeding up in familiar panic, but he pushed through the sensation and moved forward.
Lock it away, don’t feel, unpack later.
He navigated the jagged cliffs of netherrack, cursing himself for not grabbing any food as the numerous falls and sprints started to take their toll. Regardless of the setbacks, what he needed more than anything was to leave. If he could find a crimson forest, he could hunt some of the hoglins and be set, yet as he traveled in one direction, it was soul sand valley as far as he could see.
He didn’t know how long he had been traveling, hours? Days? He didn’t remember so much soul sand here before?
Eventually, he had to stop. Reaching an alcove, exhausted from the slowed movement of the sands as if there had been hands trying to drag him under, he almost cried with relief at the unlit portal within. He knew Dream wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave the portal unlit without a means of powering it in an emergency. He hissed in pain digging around in the soil with scabbed fingers until he managed to find a hidden barrel buried one block below.
It was risky stopping here, seeing as he didn’t quite remember which one this led out to but knew he had passed several rest stops already.
As long as he got out, he’d be fine; he just… just needed to sleep and get some food, then he could continue his way home.
He struck the flint and steel together, producing a few pitiful sparks before a burst of flame erupted from his hands, swirling in to fill the frame with purple energy.
Here goes nothing, Tubbo thought, and with exhausted resolve, he stepped through.
As if mocking his complaints of the heat, the portal exited into the middle of an iceberg. Chill hit his skin immediately, seeping every last bit of heat from his bones and nearly sending him into shock with the temperature change alone. Without a proper coat to counter the frozen surroundings, his best bet was to get to the rest stop and hope the blanket would be good enough.
Each step became labored, his teeth chattering and echoing throughout the tunnels of carved ice. For once, he was thankful for the fur on his lower legs, though the sweat remaining from the nether was cooling rapidly, limiting its usefulness.
By the time he reached the repurposed igloo, he all but collapsed onto the rickety mattress, the cold metal frame creaking in protest. Pulling the half-decent covers over himself, Tubbo curled into a shivering ball and let the exhaustion lead him to sleep.
He woke up in a daze to warmth and comfort rather than chill and dull ache. It was only when his mind had begun to catch up that he felt panic seize within him. He tried to sit up but felt his body was too heavy, the familiar effects of a weakness potion fatiguing him.
A firm hand held him prone and before he had more time to process what was going on, a voice rang through the empty room.
“Awake?” Dream asked.
Shit. He tried his best to pretend to still be asleep, hoping it might delay any confrontation, but the ruse had been ruined. He looked up to see the familiar, smiling mask staring down at him, freshly carved from a piece of dragonbone that Dream had traveled to the End to collect.
A piece of visibly stale bread in hand. “Eat.” It wasn’t a question.
Just like old times, he thought bitterly, gingerly reaching up to take the food. Even though it was less than ideal, it was enough to rejuvenate him, albeit ever so slightly.
Dream waited, unspeaking and unmoving. There was an expectation lingering there, but like before, he didn’t voice it. Tubbo finished the bread, careful to wipe the stray crumbs off the blanket. Even though Dream couldn’t see his face, he kept his eyes lowered.
The two sat in silence for a moment before he noticed Dream tilt his head to the right, the same way Clay would have when raising an eyebrow with a question. A wordless order.
“Oh, uh… t-thanks.” He stammered out, shrinking under the stare.
His head tilted to the left. And?
“A-and I’m sorry.” He added, shrinking back even more.
“It seems I need to make some changes to my training methods.” Dream placed a hand on his shoulder and Tubbo felt a shiver run down his spine. “It seems I haven’t put enough emphasis on obedience .”
Without another word, the familiar tug of teleportation brought them back to the Farlands.
The moment they appeared in the main hall, Dream dragged him toward the back of the mansion, eventually arriving again at the obstacle course. “You’re making me repeat my expectations.”
“Sorry.” He muttered and Dream came to a halt.
“I didn’t tell you to speak,” Dream warned. “I don’t want to hear another word from you unless I specifically order you to speak, understood?”
“Yes, I und–”
“Did I ask for a verbal response?”
He shut his mouth and shook his head.
“Fucking pathetic.” Dream scoffed before turning away and Tubbo felt a deep sense of shame.
You disappointed him but then again what else is new. That’s all you’re fucking good for anyways, can’t fucking do anything right. Couldn’t escape, couldn’t follow orders. What the fuck is wrong with you?
“Nightmare.” Dream said after a moment, that same unspoken expectation lingering.
Tubbo nearly asked what he was waiting on, but caught himself in time. Looking between him and the room around, the best conclusion he could come to was returning to training.
The lack of punishment for his escapade put him on edge but he couldn’t think about that right now. Without any further input to go off of, he began running through the stages once more. The course had changed slightly, platforms moved ever so slightly, gaps a few inches farther, obstacles imperceptibly lowered, all enough to cause him to stumble.
Dream had stayed quiet the entire time. No criticism, no physical correction. The silence he had learned to signify as success was now only feeding into his dread. He kept an eye on Dream throughout, doing his best to read his body language and predict which section he was supposed to work on next but he was giving no indication of what he wanted.
After half an hour, Dream stepped back and sat on one of the spare bales of hay. Tubbo continued, thinking he was just tired of standing, but a quick clearing of the throat caught his ear. He looked back and, upon noticing the slightest tap to his foot, hurried over.
“Do you want to stop?” Dream asked.
Tubbo was taken back.
A choice? A trick?
Dream tilted his head.
That’s not an answer.
“Ye–”
His head tilted the other way.
A warning. Hush.
Nightmare nodded.
Dream stood and walked around him, once, twice.
Circling, like a predator to prey.
Tubbo stayed still, looking straight ahead, stopping the trembling in his hands as his instincts screamed at him to run, fight, do something.
“I think there’s still one thing left to cover.”
Tubbo dodged back before he realized what he was doing, moving out of the way of the hands as they darted out toward him. Dream’s shoulders tensed.
Angry. Mad. Furious.
He forced himself not to move as Dream kicked his legs out from under him, grabbing the front of his shirt in time to leave him suspended in his grasp.
The familiar axe appeared, glimmering blade catching the lantern light in the most ominous way it could. As it swung, Tubbo tensed, body curling in on its own to protect itself.
As the flat of the axehead collided with his right arm, a sharp pain raced through him from wrist to shoulder, though dampened slightly by the nerve damage. Beneath the mask, he winced, but no sound escaped his lips.
“No matter what,” Dream continued, his voice dangerously low as he pulled him closer. “ Never try to stop me.”
Nightmare uncurled himself, forcing every muscle to remain still as a second hit collided.
“Better.”
With that, he let go, dropping Tubbo to the ground. He lay there, unmoving, hoping that staying still would be enough to spare him any further ‘lessons’.
“We’re paying someone a visit tomorrow,” he announced, stepping over the crumpled form. “You will cooperate.”
Nightmare nodded in response.
Morning came just as gracelessly as it had in recent days, his fitful rest interrupted by the sound of the cell door creaking open. Dream waited at the door as Nightmare roused himself, dutifully falling in lockstep behind him as they exited into the entryway. He was expecting to either train or teleport right away, but instead, Dream headed toward the central stairs.
He stopped at the first step, memories of the last time he’d ascended these very stairs marking the end of his peaceful life in the mansion. It didn’t take long for Dream to notice the lack of his shadow, arms crossed before he even turned around to see the frozen figure. “Is there a problem?”
Nightmare quickly pulled himself from his thoughts, head shaking as he caught up. They walked an old, familiar path, eventually ending up in Dream’s room. A host of questions came to mind, but he knew better than to ask them.
“There’s one thing left to do before we go.”
He watched with mild confusion and growing unease as Dream pulled a stool into the bathroom. When he remained standing, expectantly waiting, Nightmare hurried to sit, closer to eye level than he’d ever been.
His eyes drifted to the countertop, eyes landing on the file that sat out of place amidst the other pieces of clutter. The file Clay had used – the file Tubbo had gotten him to stop using. The fond memories of that friendly moment sat in his chest like an ache as he watched Dream reach toward it now.
He didn’t take the file. His hands reached past it, pushing aside the painful metal for a pair of scissors. Beneath the unmoving mask, his brow furrowed, eyes darting between them and the one that held them. They didn’t seem particularly sharp and were certainly nowhere near as well-used as the file, but his stomach sank nonetheless. As they drew closer, he forced his eyes shut, terrified of what might happen next.
Snip.
He opened his eyes slowly, not knowing what to expect but fearing it nonetheless. He looked over his reflection, trying to see what might have changed when he realized his hair had been… cut. One lock of hair, resting over the top of the mask, was now missing the brown and blond ends that had stubbornly remained after all his trips to Limbo.
Snip. Snip.
His confusion was swept away as he watched Dream cut piece after piece, realization dawning as one of the last few remnants of his past life got torn away. He’d never been particularly attached to his hair – sure, he could remember the comfort of the brown locks being brushed out by Phil and it had been fun bleaching it to match Tommy, but it wasn’t something he’d ever really held great pride or importance in like Techno or Wilbur. Watching Dream cut it now, though, it filled him with a complicated emotion he couldn’t quite place.
Snip. Snip. Snip.
He stared, paralyzed, as his image was reshaped against his will once more, once again left without a say in how the world would see him.
After this, the only parts of ‘Tubbo’ left would be a broken horn and a collection of scars he never wanted.
Snip.
When the last chunk of brown and blond fell to the floor, leaving only deathly white, Dream set the scissors down and dusted his hands. He stood for a moment, scrutinizing his handiwork in heavy silence, before stepping forward. Nightmare did not move as he put his hand on his shoulder, the familiar tug of teleportation pulling them away from the pieces of who he’d been.
Arctic Commune
"Tommy, I don't know how else to tell you this, but you need to stop," Techno called behind him.
"Or what," the teen scoffed. "You'll send a Wither after me?"
"At least then it'd be quieter."
Tommy ignored the comment. "I'm not giving it back, y'know."
Techno turned around to face him, looking over the unarmored and somewhat shivering human that stood about a foot shorter and was probably just a third of his weight. "I mean, I know you have it. I could just kill you," the piglin threatened, entirely monotone.
"Wh– no, I- I–" Tommy started to back up, an awkward smile on his face. “Hey, c'mon now!”
"You know what my sword is called, Tommy?" A faint smirk began to make its way onto his face, as he jokingly reached for the weapon on his side. " Do ya? "
"PHII-IIILLL!"
The familiar green and white hat leaned out the window. “What?”
“Techno’s gonna kill me!”
He chuckled. "Techno, mate, don’t kill the kid," Phil replied, no weight to the reprimand.
“You’re taking his side? Oh, the betrayal, I can’t believe this.” He looked between the two with mock offense. "He's the one that took my axe–"
"YOU GAVE IT TO ME!"
"Yeah, before I knew you were gonna go runnin' back to L’manburg."
"Well, no takebacks. It's still mine," Tommy declared, finality in his voice as he pouted.
"I– this is, what, the third time you've–"
"Hey, uh, Techno?" Phil nodded his head toward the other side of the yard, looking out across the snow. "Think you're being summoned."
Turning his attention towards the mountainside, he could see Ranboo waving him over. "Hold your horses, Mr. Main Character , I'll be there in a bit." He faced Tommy once more. "You touch Steve, and I am not responsible for what he does."
"Steve loves me!" Tommy retorted indignantly. “Right Steve?”
The polar bear opened one eye at the mention of his name before yawning and going back to sleep.
"Yeah, sure. See if you still think that when he mauls half of your face off."
"... Phil, you won't let Steve maul me to death, right?"
"I–" Phil sputtered. "How did this become my responsibility?!"
"Take care of the kid, Dadza ," Techno replied with a laugh before making his way toward the patient enderman.
As he approached, Ranboo moved inside, taking a brief look at the two arguing figures across the field before closing the door behind Techno as he entered. “So, uhm… remember when I said that I hear a voice sometimes?”
He blinked, caught off guard by the choice of topic. “Dream’s, if I recall.”
“Yeah, uhm… well, it kinda maybe is, y’know…“ He coughed. “Actually him.”
Techno’s brow furrowed. “Oookay?”
“Well, earlier, uhm, he said he–” He shifted awkwardly. “He said he wanted to speak with you–“
“He told you that he wants to see me? ” Techno clarified.
"Well, yes?" Ranboo swallowed a lump in his throat. "He's also, well, uhm..."
"I figured it'd be nice to talk in person."
Techno looked over at the masked figure as he walked out from the shadowed corner beneath the stairs. “Bruh, why are you harrassin’ my pupil to set up your meetings? You couldn’t have just, I dunno, messaged me? Sent a letter? Use your weird freaky magic to astral project or whatever it is you can do?”
His head tilted ever so slightly. “If I were you, that wouldn’t be my biggest concern right now.”
“...Are you threatening me, Dream?” The piglin’s eyebrow raised. “You know I don’t take kindly to threats.”
“ If you fight, can it at least be outside? ” Ranboo quietly chimed in.
“Nah, this’ll be too easy.” He looked over as the enderman shifted nervously and let out a sigh. “Don’t worry, Ranboo. It’ll be fine.”
“You going soft, Techno?” Dream asked with amusement.
“Look, he’s been a good kid, alright?” Techno looked at the visitor over again, more carefully this time. There was a figure mostly hidden behind Dream, lurking in his shadow. He could recognize the horns from a mile away but his heart squeezed uncomfortably that the face was now covered by an oddly similar mask – although cracked in some places and missing a section. “Besides, you’re one to talk.”
“And what do you mean by that?” Dream replied, voice hardening.
“Splash instant health pot on your belt,” he pointed out, attention drifting back to the hunter before him. “So either you’re worried about someone–” He nodded toward Tubbo. “–or you’re losin’ your skills.”
Dream bristled. “That is not –”
“Haaaaah,” Techno mocked. “So much for Mr. I Don’t Have Attachments.”
Dream set his shoulders and pulled the bottle free. “I don’t.” Without looking, he tossed the bright red liquid over to Ranboo, who barely managed to catch it. “You can go.”
The enderman glanced between the potion and the hidden figure, trying his best to give a shaky smile before disappearing into the snowy yard.
Techno leaned back against the wall, gaze remaining pointedly aimed at Dream. “Now that you’ve ousted my pupil from his own home, what do you want?”
“Just want to talk,” he replied, hands calmly raised in mocking defense.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve deciding to ‘talk’ like this,” he huffed, eyes briefly flickering to the cowering kid. “What is it?”
Ranboo walked out the door cradling the potion in his hands, mind racing with everything he’d seen. Dream had been waiting for him, casually sorting through his chests and organizing them like it was his own home. He didn’t make a scene or get aggressive, simply asked for him to call Techno over. It wasn’t until Techno pointed it out that he even noticed Tubbo hiding in the background, and his stomach plummeted when he saw the repaired mask covering most of his face.
Wandering out into the yard, he was quickly waved over to the cabins by Tommy.
“What’d you need Techno for?” Phil was plucking something from the feathers of one of the many crows that patrolled the area. “Would’ve thought you two would come back together.”
“It’s, uhm…” He froze, panicking as he realized he had no cover prepared. “It’s nothing much, just s-something a bit more complicated than I thought and he knew how to fix it. He’ll be done soon, though.”
“Yeah, but what is ‘it’?” Tommy pushed, leaning over the railing and kicking his legs. “You can’t just take him away while I’m in the middle of winning an argument and not tell me why.”
Phil snorted. “You were not winning.”
Tommy stuck his tongue out before looking back to Ranboo. “Well?”
“...would you believe me if I said it’s a surprise for later?”
“Ranboo, mate, it’s alright.” Phil reached up and took his shoulders, though his eyes remained focused on the knot of his tie. “Just tell us what’s happening.”
“It– it’s nothing particularly–”
Tommy walked over, face serious now that he recognized his friend’s genuine distress. “Ranboo, what’s goin’ on?”
“It's fine, it’s just…” Ranboo took a breath, trying to steel himself. “Yeah, it-it’s fine.”
A crow landed on his shoulder, letting out a series of squawks directly next to his ear. Phil thought for a moment then sighed. “I didn’t want to do this the hard way, but…”
He tightened his grip, and before Ranboo knew it was coming, he was pulled down and met with painfully discerning periwinkle eyes. The memory of Punz’s piercing blue glare boring into his skull immediately came to mind and he couldn’t help but wince. “Tell me what is in there or I will go see for myself.”
Despite there being no hostility, he still immediately withered under the look, pulling back and turning away. “I–”
“What the fuck has gotten into you?!” Tommy shouted, forcing himself between them. Ranboo nearly thought he was yelling at him, perhaps intending to join in on the questioning, but quickly realized he was directing it at Phil. “Don’t fucking ever do that again.”
Tommy’s attention shifted, and with it, his tone calmed. “Although, I’m not gonna lie, bossman – you are stressing me the fuck out right now.”
This time, he met Tommy’s eyes, trying to convey without words how sorry he was he couldn’t explain. Instead, every one of his reasons petered out into pitiful excuses, and his gaze dropped once more.
Eventually, he managed to mutter, “...it’s… it’s Tubbo.”
“I was wondering if you could help me with something,” Dream mused, his casual confidence an oppressive presence in the air.
Techno’s eyes darted to Tubbo again. “Calling in your favor?”
“Nothing quite that serious.” He waved his hand. “Just thought that maybe you could use a bit of sparring.”
“Ah, so you want to put another loss under your belt.” Techno crossed his arms. “That can be arranged.”
Dream shook his head. “No, not for me.”
He paused. “You’re not sayin’…”
“I mean, given your shared history, I didn’t think you’d have much objection.” Dream stepped aside, bringing Tubbo to the center of attention. “Nightmare?”
Both Techno and the kid froze staring at each other. Techno couldn’t see his eyes, hidden behind what he could now clearly tell to be a repaired version of Dream’s old mask, but he knew the expression of terror that hid behind it. The kid he once knew stepped forward with a blade in hand. Techno could see the slight tremble to his hands.
“No.”
Dream tilted his head, genuine curiosity when he asked, “Why not?”
He could feel the voices growing, could feel the red-eyed anger setting in and he didn’t care to stop them. “I said–“ His voice dropped into a growl. “No.”
“Well, that’s unfortunate.” Dream idly examined his nails, tone dispassionate. “If you don’t want to spar, then I suppose there are alternate options.”
Fury emanated from Techno as his lip curled back. “I’d be careful with what you say next, Dream.”
“I may not know much about the so-called Death’s Champion, but if rumors hold true, I’d say Phil is still a worthy opponent, even as broken as he is.” Dream turned his attention. “Wouldn’t you, Nightmare?”
That was it. Favor or not, this was going too far. His annoyance had skipped past anger and was now boiling over into rage, the voices’ chants and calls for violence only stoking the flames. The familiar, comforting weight of his axe was in his hands before he knew what he was doing, and–
The slamming of iron on stone snapped everyone’s attention to the entry, in which stood the imposing and almost haunting silhouette of Philza, wings both pristine and destroyed outstretched, blocking the blinding white of the snow outside and sending long shadows into the room.
Dream smirked. “Speak of the angel.”
It didn’t take long for the elytrian’s eyes to settle on the kid. His entire presence shifted, the old hermit now radiating what could only be described as a sense of doom and despair.
“You green little–“
The overall intimidation of the moment was quickly lost as Tommy came stumbling in behind him, pushing past his uninjured wing before skittering to a halt at the sight before him.
“And of course, here comes Tommy, ruining everything once again!” Dream’s amusement from before pivoted to sarcastic enthusiasm. He grabbed Tubbo’s arm and pulled him away from the group, his other hand summoning his axe. “I’ll take my leave now, but we’ll be seeing you soon enough.”
There was half a moment of delay, before the two disappeared, that Tommy locked eyes with the shattered mask across from him. He reached out, trying desperately to reach him in time, but a cloud of particles left the residents behind in a heavy silence.
“WHY THE FUCK DID YOU JUST STAND THERE?!?” Tommy screamed.
Techno turned towards them, an unreadable look in his eyes.
Phil’s voice, while softer, was far more terse, a terrifyingly level tone for the burning behind his eyes. “Techno. Mate. I’m going to need you to give me one good explanation for why I just saw what I did.”
Techno looked to the ground, unable to meet his companion’s eyes. “That wasn’t Tubbo in there.”
The elytrian’s face fell, a cold and hollow absence replacing what had moments before been nearing a blazing inferno.
He continued, gaze still averted. “Whoever that was… it wasn’t him. Not anymore.”
Phil slammed the door as he left.
It was Tommy’s turn to sit in silence, and he did for a while – long enough Techno almost thought he’d shut down completely – before the quietest voice he’d heard from the kid asked, “...I thought you said you wouldn’t let that happen. That- that you weren’t going to let him turn into a puppet.”
The piglin rested his hand on his shoulder, an apologetic sigh his best condolence. “Tommy–”
“No, I want to know why.” He shoved the hand off, volume raising, but it was obvious his mind wasn’t all there. “Tell me why you couldn’t fucking save him. With everything you can do, in one tiny little room, you can’t keep the one fucking promise you made me.”
“I didn’t promise anything,” he corrected. “And I’m not some all-powerful god that can just solve every problem or win every fight. I’m just… I’m just a person, Tommy; as much a person as you are.”
“Well, I’m not the person that stood by for who knows how fucking long while the friend I’ve been trying to save for months was standing right in front of me, now am I?!” He glared up at the piglin, not shying away despite the foot difference. “You said you were sorry for not saving him at the festival, that you should have stepped in. So please tell me, Technoblade – Why didn’t you step in now? ”
I should’ve chosen to fight. Every rebuttal he’d been prepared to shout died in his throat. Tubbo paid for that mistake. He looked down at his hands, weaponless and blood-free. It’s not a mistake I’ll make again.
“...I’m sorry.”
Tommy stared, his anger simmering as no argument was put forward in response. “That’s it?!”
“I don’t have an excuse, except that I failed. Even after I said I wouldn’t.” He sighed. “So, I’m sorry.”
“Well, that doesn’t just–” He huffed. “Don’t think everything’s fine just because you apologized.”
Techno shook his head. “I wouldn’t expect it.”
The teen stormed out of the house, obviously frustrated there was no fight to be had.
With a sigh, the piglin made his way out as well, watching Tommy shove past and ignore Ranboo as he went to sit in the dog pen. He walked over, patting Ranboo on the shoulders as he warbled in distress. “We’ll talk later. But Ranboo – because I know how you are – I don’t blame you for this.”
“I just- I–” Ranboo let out a quiet keen.
“Why don’t you go to the SMP and collect Michael from Eret?” Techno suggested. “And before you ask, I’m not kicking you out. Just think it might be a good idea to take some time away from here while tensions are high.”
Ranboo sighed. “Y-yeah. I think I need to clear my head anyway. Thanks Techno.”
Techno watched as he left towards the portal, waiting until he was over the small hill that separated the gateway from the rest of the cabins. He moved to go into his home but something in him paused. Before he could think too much about it, he found himself knocking on Phil’s door.
“Come in.”
Even from outside the door, the tension was suffocating. Techno hovered in the entryway as Phil sat in his chair, back to the door and hat resting in his lap. The familiar yellow, black, and green beads rested between his fingers, cradled with a delicateness that so few of his things were.
“...I forgive you.”
Techno’s breath caught in his throat, gaze drifting to the silhouette of his companion’s face. There were tear trails on his frost-reddened cheeks and an absent sorrow haunted his long-lived eyes. He didn’t turn to face the piglin, focus staying on whatever distant horizon they’d found.
“Phil–”
“It’s not easy, making those calls.” He chuckled, a wet and sorrowful laugh with no mirth behind it. “She knows I’ve had to make it many times.” His other hand drifted to the other string of beads, and no words were needed for him to know exactly what he meant.
The Farlands
“First you hide the mask, then you try to stay behind while teleporting–” Dream all but threw him into the cell. “If I didn't know better, I’d think you've forgotten your place in all this.”
Nightmare stayed where he’d stumbled to the ground, not bothering to sit up or look at him. Dream stormed into the room and grabbed his shirt, holding him aloft like he was nothing.
It reminded him of that time, what felt like so long ago, back in the End. His mind wandered back to the Void, to Trixtin, to the oddly comforting half-dreams that melded with his waking moments.
“Well?” Dream demanded, the shout pulling him out of his reprieve. “Have you?”
Nightmare shook his head.
“Say it.”
“N-no.”
“And what are you?”
He swallowed, painfully aware of the tears he could not wipe forming behind the immovable mask. “A means to an end.”
His feet touched the floor as Dream lowered him to the floor, satisfied with the answer, before all but dragging him into the entryway.
Nightmare no longer felt the cold trickle of fear run down his back as Dream marched him to the lab. He didn’t even have to be ordered to lie down on the experimentation table. Staring at the ceiling, a bittersweet relief washed over him, a reprieve from the pain and fear he’d felt coiling around his mind like a serpent.
He felt a numbness take over his senses, his mind slipping away as he lay there. He didn’t notice that the axe was lined up higher than usual, nor did he care to notice the pain in his neck as it hit its mark. All he knew was that he seemed to fall.
At least there was kindness in the moment of Death, right before Limbo. As his world went black, he wondered how long he’d get to rest this time, clinging to the naive hope it’d be forever.
The hauntingly familiar voice slid into the back of Ranboo’s mind, a shiver down his spine as it whispered,
I’m disappointed.
