Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

What Dream remembered happening went something like this:

The Warden pulled him up off the floor of his cell, furious and ranting about something that Dream couldn't understand. There was a potion poured over his skin, his skull throbbed (had it been slammed against the wall again? he couldn't remember. there was too much dried blood on his body to tell), and after that everything got fuzzy. He had faint memories of water, of choking on liquid, and of feeling helpless.

At some point after that, his arms and legs were bound. He was on the Warden's back, and there was something in his arms. It moved sometimes. Dream wasn't a fan of that. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered why the Warden decided to act like a horse instead of just getting one to carry his prisoner. It was one of the few coherent thoughts he could pick out of the messy haze of travel.

He'd been blindfolded, or maybe it'd been a sack over his head. Whatever it was, it removed his vision completely. They must've gone outside, he still had faint memories of wind on his bare feet. Part of him wished he hadn't been blindfolded. It would've been nice to see the sun again, however briefly.

And then, at some point, they'd arrived at their destination. Dream found himself in a cell once more. The Warden had lightened up on the potions steadily, so he had relatively clear memories of laying on the obsidian floor for what must've been hours. Unable to even lift his head to take a look around.

The Warden came back frustrated. Never a good sign. All four of his feet stomped around the room as he rearranged things. Dream could do little but lay there and wait for the Warden to hurt him.

To his shock, after being moved around several times, Dream found himself being dumped onto a bed. An actual bed. With sheets and blankets. He almost didn't recognize the feeling. Before he had time to try to puzzle that out, his head was being tipped up and milk was poured down his throat. He did his best not to choke on it, but only managed to swallow about half. Regardless, it did the trick. His head cleared, and his could feel his limbs start to respond again.

It only took seconds for him to want the numbness back, everything ached and he honestly couldn't tell if the Warden had bothered to feed him at all since he was first knocked out. He didn't have the luxury of agonizing over it though. The Warden was in front of him, arms crossed and posture expecting. Forcing himself to his feet, Dream dropped his gaze and awaited instructions. The ground under his feet felt wrong. Why was it soft? When had it become soft?

"The original prison was compromised thanks to the escapee. I've moved you to a new location, and it has a lot of work to be done to increase security. Since I'll be busy fixing the problems you caused, you're in charge of watching him so I can work safely. If I find out you've hurt him, I'll kill you. Do I make myself clear?"

Him? What? The move- Ugh. He probably should've seen that coming. Hopefully it wouldn't take too long for Technoblade to follow the Warden's tracks. The secondary location might be easier to break into too? Just as long as Techno found his way here. Surely, he would. The Warden was hardly known for his stealth.

"Do I make myself clear?"

Fuck. Quickly, Dream forced himself to nod. He was surprised he didn't get hit for his absent-mindedness. What had the Warden wanted again? He racked his brain but it was too stressed out to process the situation.

Thankfully, his agreement was all the Warden needed to huff and leave. The solid metal door of the cell clanged shut behind him, and Dream let out a sign of relief. He waited until he heard the whir of redstone and the sound of the Warden's footsteps echoing down the hallway that must be outside, before he finally let himself collapse backward onto the bed behind him.

For a few moments, he let himself breathe. Techno would be here soon. He'd be out soon.

And then- He bolted upright. There was something- someone else in his cell. His first thought was Quackity, and his body surged with a panicked adrenaline. Across the room, a small pink shape flinched back. Confusion overtook the panic in under a heartbeat.

Was that-

Was that a fucking toddler?

Dream could only stare, eyes wide behind his mask.

What the fuck.

He had to be hallucinating. There was no fucking way. Blinking quickly to try to clear his vision, Dream looked away and then glanced back. Nope. Against all odds, there was what appeared to be a toddler. A piglin toddler? The thing was covered in bandages, half its face was wrapped up in them. But it was definitely a piglin. Didn’t look like a hybrid either.

It had to be a trap. Some kind of trick to get information out of him. Dream wasn't falling for it. He curled himself up on the bed, keeping his face toward the toddler. Minutes ticked by before the toddler seemed to settle on the same arrangement. Curled up against the wall. Shaking and-

Fuck. The kid was crying.

Dream forced himself to not react. Sam must be watching right now. It was a ploy. Any second now Sam was going to come back and...

Uh. Yell at him? Or something? Reveal this was actually a prank?

The longer Dream thought about it, the less sense it made. There was no good reason for a toddler to be in his cell, but as far as he could tell, one was not only here, but it was crying. Dream didn't know what to do about any of those facts.

Minutes ticked by. Nothing changed. The child was still crying.

Eventually, the reality that the Warden wasn't coming back set in. For whatever fucked up reason, this was something that Dream had to deal with.

Examining the room they were in, Dream immediately realized that there wasn't a second bed. The child was currently on the floor and pressed up against the obsidian walls. There was also the matter of all the bandages all over the child's face clearly implying some seriously fucked up injuries, but that wasn't something he was qualified to handle. Realistically, he wasn't qualified to handle any of this.

In any case, Dream made a quick decision.

Standing up was terrible, his entire body ached and swayed. It had to be done though. With the coordination of a drunk man clubbed over the head, Dream stumbled across the room. The toddler jolted up, clearly scared of him. It wasn't ideal, but Dream didn't have much motor control at the moment. He let himself drop against the wall, not next to the child but close. Closing his eyes, Dream took a moment to breathe.

When he opened them again, the child had moved. They had switched sides of the room, now next to the bed. If there was any clearance between the bed and the floor, Dream was sure they would've hidden under it. Couldn't blame 'em. Hiding under a bed sounded really nice.

There was more Dream wanted to do, more he wanted to say. But it seemed his trip across the room had sucked what little energy he had left. Hopefully the kid would take the hint and use the bed... tonight? Maybe. They'd need it. He'd be just fine on the floor. It was even soft now! The Warden would probably fix that soon, but for now he could enjoy it. That was his last thought before he drifted off.

-----

Dream woke up in a very familiar manner. His body being slammed against the unforgiving obsidian wall. One of the Warden's hands was around his neck, the other was pinning his shoulder. A clear threat. As if Dream was going to be able to do fucking anything. Dream's could faintly understand that the Warden was talking, but any specifics were beyond him. The Warden decided to remedy this by slamming his head against the obsidian, something that fixed nothing. The room spun faster if anything. No more than thirty seconds went by before Dream was slammed into the wall again. This time, he felt something crack. Not his skull. His ribs maybe? It was hard to tell. Most of his body ached.

Pain had become a funny thing for Dream since Quackity started his visits. At some point, he'd found a way to know the pain was there, but not really feel it. At least in the moment. It was like the rush of battle, but extended, and unlike in battle, it made his body less responsive rather than more. Everything just felt floaty. It was nice. Or as close to nice as he could get these days.

It seemed that the Warden finally realized that slamming Dream against the wall wasn't going to accomplish anything. He must've felt the crack too. Dream vaguely registered his body being dropped and crumpling to the floor. Yeah, it was a rib that cracked. The added pressure made him acutely aware of the damage. That was going to hurt like a bitch later.

Dream expected to be left on the floor. That was usually what the Warden did when Dream was too far gone to pay attention. He'd come back later, there'd be more pain then, but unlike Quackity, the Warden wasn't fond of... unproductive activities.

Much to his surprise, Dream found himself pulled up again, the world spinning until he found himself on the bed. His shirt- he had a shirt.

Huh. That was weird. It’d been a long time since he had a shirt.

The shirt had been yanked up and the Warden was pushing at the cracked rib, shoving it in ways that hurt. But the pain eased as a familiar pink liquid was poured over the injury.

Ever so slowly, the rib stitched itself back together. It still felt a bit off, but it was certainly better than before. Taking a deep breath, Dream could feel oxygen rushing back into him. Had he stopped breathing? That might've been part of the problem. He kept taking deep breaths until the world slowly came back into focus, even though each breath was a fight, as if he was halfway underwater. It took a lot of effort, but he managed to force himself to pay attention to the Warden.

The Warden was angry, that much was obvious. Dream couldn't fathom what he was so upset over though. Still, he tried to indicate he was paying attention, tilting his head upwards and slightly to the side in question.

"What did you do to him?"

Dream had no fucking clue what the Warden was talking about, but he needed to respond. He opened his mouth to try-

Ah. He found himself convulsing and throwing up blood instead. Right. Resetting the rib wouldn't undo internal bleeding. That may've been why it was so hard to breathe. Luckily, the Warden seemed to realize that as well and despite an exasperated sigh, he helped turn Dream onto his side so he could cough up the rest of the blood. It took nearly a minute before Dream's lungs felt clearer and he was able to breathe easier.

Once he could breath, Dream finally managed to refocus on the world around him. The Warden- The Warden had asked him a question. Confusion wasn't going to win him any points, but confusion was all he had.

"I'm sorry- I don't- who?"

The Warden's brow furrowed and his hands tightened. Not good. But there was no immediate violence. So that was something?

"Michael. You were told to take care of him. I came in and found him crying."

Who the fuck was- wait. Dream's brain chose that moment to remember that there had been a piglin toddler in his room. What the fuck?

"I- the toddler? I didn't- I didn't do anything to him. I wasn't- I tried to check on him, but I couldn't walk. There's- something's wrong with my leg."

That was the wrong thing to say, the Warden's hands shot out, yanking Dream to his feet.

"Don't lie to me, Prisoner. You can walk-"

As he spoke he let go of Dream, likely intending for him to stand on his own two feet. Dream honestly made an effort to catch his own weight, but he crumbled instantly as a searing pain shot up his left leg. Fuck. Something was really wrong.

The Warden figured that out too, cutting himself off and stepping back a bit in shock. Unsure of himself. If he could speak through the pain, Dream would've tried to offer an apology, but it was all he could do to keep breathing.

Shuffling, the Warden eyed something in the corner of the room before making a decision.

"Stay here." As if Dream could go fucking anywhere. And then the Warden shuffled off to-

Holy fucking shit, had the toddler just been here the entire time? What the actual fuck was wrong with the Warden?

A lot of things, apparently, but he seemed to have finally caught on to the fact that this shit wasn't cool for a fucking toddler to see. The child darted to the other side of the room when the Warden approached, putting Dream in between the two of them. Not that Dream offered much protection.

The Warden was obviously frustrated, but unwilling to fight with the child.

"Michael- fine, go to the bathroom. I need to handle things here."

The Warden gestured to the wooden door, taking a step towards the child when they hesitated. That was all the motivation the toddler needed to run into the bathroom and slam the door.

Okay. Alright. No more toddler. This was fine.

With that settled, the Warden stepped over and pulled Dream back up, dumping him back on the bed. It took everything Dream had to not scream in pain. The lack of breath helped. The Warden didn't waste any time in pulling up his pant leg-

Ah. The Warden flinched back. That wasn't a good sign. It took a lot to make the Warden flinch these days.

Dream managed to lift his head just enough to take a glance at his left leg. A glance was more than enough to tell him something was very wrong. The bones were bent wrong, and the flesh around an old wound Quackity had left him with was swollen, oozing, clearly infected, and probably rotting. Hm. He hadn't been able to shift in quite awhile, so it wasn't that surprising. He'd need to do that after the Warden left. That’d take care of the infection, even if it wouldn’t heal the damage it had done.

"Should've known better, Quackity never cleans up after himself..." The Warden grumbled, and without another word he grabbed at Dream's leg.

This time, there wasn't a force on earth that could've stopped Dream from screaming. The Warden didn't stop. He never did.

It took eons for the Warden to... reset the bone? Maybe. Probably. Hardly matters. But once it was set, a shimmering dark red potion was poured over it. Regen was a very rare sight. It was a hell of a lot more effective than yet another healing potion. Dream could feel his body stitching his leg back together and watch as some of the swelling receded.

The process took nearly five minutes, while the Warden grumbled and stalked around. Dream wasn’t even sure if he was doing anything or if he was just too angry to be still. After his body settled down, Dream looked to the Warden for further instructions.

"You don't have any excuses now. Do your job and take care of Michael, I don't have time to deal with your shit."

And that was all the Warden said before he stalked out of the room.

Well. Okay. Okay. This was-

It wasn't really fine but it was something that Dream could work with. He could handle this. It was- it was a toddler? That Sam had, uh, found? Somewhere? Probably? Dream didn't really remember what the kid looked like but he was relatively sure that it wasn't Sam's kid. Like, biologically.

Only one way to find out.

Dream hauled himself to his feet and with some effort (and a bit of pain), made his way towards the bathroom. He was fairly sure that the Warden had left the kid there. The door was flimsy and wooden (dream was already trying to figure out how easy it would be to shape the wood into an axe or a sword. it wouldn't be particularly strong, but it would be something which was more than what he currently had), and easily gave way when he pushed it aside to reveal- well. A bathroom. It was bare and simple, a poor excuse for a bathtub taking up most of the room and a sink firmly set into the wall, plus a toilet at the end of the room. But it was something. Hell of a lot better than Pandora's Vault. And in the bathroom there was what Dream had come here for- the toddler- Michael. Right? That was his name? Who was just sorta- fuck did Sam really just put a piglin toddler in a cold bathtub? Not even a goddamn blanket on him? With those flimsy overalls and a half-tattered t-shirt? Alright. Well, the kid was crying. That wasn't a good sign but it also made sense.

The toddler was watching him, Right. Okay. Dream held up his hands in a pretty universal sign of surrender. Fuck, did the kid even know Common? Like, the kid was a piglin. Right? They didn't learn Common as standard. And sure, Dream spoke some piglin, but it sure as fuck wasn't very good and his head was still aching like hell. He tried to piece together some of what he could recall Techno teaching him during their shared time in the cell.

"Hello- tiny- strider? strid -no, fuck- pig-lin?"

Okay, might've gotten two words mixed up there, and shit, he shouldn't be cursing in front of a toddler. Although, in fairness, he was pretty sure that was the least of the kid’s problems.

The toddler- well the toddler had stopped crying? He looked surprised? Maybe? It was pretty hard to tell, what with how messed up the kid's face was. The bandages didn’t help much with that. Might also be why the kid was crying to be honest. Or at least part of it. It'd be hard not to cry if you were a kid and dealing with that.

Still, the toddler didn't respond, he just watched Dream curiously. So, Dream tried again.

"Are... you... emergency?"

Fuck, he couldn't remember the word for injured and he didn't want to say ‘bad’ so that would hopefully do? A kid would get that, right? But despite the toddler clearly paying attention to his words, the kid wasn't.. uh, he didn't really seem to get it? His little head tilted to the side. Recognizing that Dream was saying something, but not reacting to it. Which was weird. Dream admittedly hadn't met many piglin toddlers, but the kid looked old enough to understand words, like at least a little bit. Bastions were good about-

But this kid wasn't at a bastion. Right. Okay.

"Uh, do you speak Common? Sorry, I just realized you might not even speak piglin."

That got a reaction, the toddler nodded, and seemed to perk up at the word "piglin". He nodded again, and then waved his hands around a bit as if trying to indicate something. Dream tried to follow the kid's motions, but it didn't read as any sign language he knew, so he had to assume it was just a gesture.

"Piglin?" He tried again, just the word this time. Again, the kid nodded, excited before a flash of pain put a stop to that. Okay, so maybe- "You are a piglin?" Dream tried, and the toddler nodded again, notably less excited now that he had recalled that his head hurt.

Well, okay, Dream could work with that. He'd kinda already guessed as much though. Clearly, the kid understood Common which was useful.

"Okay- that's- that's cool. Piglin toddler who speaks Common. I've known a few piglins that speak Common, or piglin hybrids anyways. The guy I know, he's super cool. You'd love to meet him. Might get to soon. Maybe. He'd probably like you." Dream was rambling, and he knew that, but it seemed to distract the kid. Slowly, he pushed himself off the door frame and ambled closer to the bathtub. God, he probably looked like a zombie. Wouldn't blame the kid for thinking that he was one.

When the kid didn't panic, or at the very least didn't start crying again, Dream made his way to the tub and offered a hand to help the kid get over the rim. The hand was looked at with suspicion, and not taken instantly, not great. But the kid wasn't freaking out. So progress?

"I- I'm supposed to take care of you. I guess. I'm- I'm gonna be honest, really not sure what the fuck is going on here. But I bet that tub isn't comfortable, right? So why don't you come on out? We could go to the bed and get you a bit warmer? There's blankets- I think?" As much as Dream was trying to keep his voice even, the pain of his leg was starting to get to him. He really hoped the kid just came along soon so he could take the weight off of it.

The toddler still seemed hesitant, but the promise of warmth won out. He shuffled up to his feet and using Dream's hand for leverage, clambered out of the bathtub. No shoes, so of course the kid flinched at the feeling of cold tile. Ugh. Okay. Just hurry him along. Dream pulled the toddler from the bathroom back to the carpeted... bedroom? Main cell? He wasn't really sure which applied here but both were close enough. Should probably keep calling it a bedroom for the kid though.

Speaking of the kid, Dream helped him up onto the bed and wrapped him up in a couple of the sparse blankets that had been provided. It was hardly perfect, but it'd do for now. That and-

Looking down, Dream saw the plate of food that The Warden must’ve left on the bedside table. Bread, some dates, a bit of what looked like beef and some carrots. It was more food than Dream had seen in a very long time.

A desperate part of him wanted to just shove it in his mouth, wanted to devour it, but he knew better. He knew better. He did. He fucking did.

It would only make everything worse, not to mention the kid needed food too. Plus, if Dream was being entirely honest the pain of the infection and subsequent healing process had taken a lot out of him. He was still hungry, he was always hungry, but the unpleasantness of all that had dulled the hunger. There was a good chance anything he ate now would just get thrown back up.

The kid was probably starving though. Dream carefully reached over and grabbed the beef, thankfully already cut up into small, bite-sized pieces. Perfect. This should be fine for a piglin toddler, right? Dream was hoping so. His faint memories of talking with Technoblade told him that piglins were omnivores, so it should be fine. The Warden wouldn't have like, given him something that could poison the kid. Probably.

The little beef chunks were taken without complaint, although the kid did seem to have some trouble with chewing them. It might have something to do with the bandages wrapped around the kid's face and neck. He probably needed to check on those actually. Why the hell Sam hadn't just given the poor kid a healing potion was beyond him.

Still, Dream held off until he'd gotten the kid to eat some of the bread and the dates, plus half the carrots before he tried to broach the topic of the kid's injuries. It was slow work, but the kid was clearly hungry and by the time he started refusing the food, the toddler had calmed down significantly. Enough that Dream felt comfortable giving it a shot.

"Uh, kid, any chance you'd be okay if I checked on... whatever the hell hit you?" The kid didn't seem to fully understand the question so Dream hid one of his own eyes with one hand and mimed pulling it off with the other. That got the message across and after a few moments the kid nodded. Good enough.

As delicately as he could with his shaking hands, Dream reached over to peel up the bandages and-

Ah.

Well that explained why Sam hadn't given the kid any healing potions.

What in the actual fuck was Sam doing with an infected piglin toddler? Was this some fucked up experiment? Some method of trying to keep Technoblade away? Dream really, really wanted to believe that Sam wouldn't have infected some random piglin's kid just for that-

For one, he had to know it wouldn't work. Technoblade was a hybrid, he was immune to the fungal infections which overtook piglins that got too close to the overworld. For two... Well, The Warden had proved him wrong several times, but he still wanted to believe that Sam had limits. Had lines that he wouldn't cross. And he'd hoped hurting some random toddler to seemingly no useful end was beyond that.

Dream didn't really like that he wasn't sure. Not anymore.

Not a good time to dwell on that thought though. Alright. Kid had a flesh eating fungal infection. Dream needed-

Fuck, he needed a lot of things. None of which he had. He could maybe do a little to ease the pain with some warmth, the bathtub or sink hypothetically could spit out hot water, but that was about all he had. Surely, The Warden would come take the kid for treatment? Right? That must be what the plan was. Dream would just need to take care of the kid for now, and the Warden would come by and give him whatever potions he'd need.

Taking a deep breath, Dream replaced the bandage as gently as he could. The kid would need a warm bath relatively soon. Just in general, what with the dirt and grime now visible on the kid’s skin, but particularly if Dream wanted to keep the fungal infection under control. But he could do that later. Right now...

Right now, the kid seemed tired, and Dream was hard pressed to disagree. Healing had taken out most of what little energy he had, and getting the kid over here had taken the rest.

"Let's get some sleep, okay? You can take the bed, I'll just nap on the floor.”

The toddler nodded in agreement, and Dream stayed awake long enough to make sure the kid laid down safely before moving himself to the floor to rest his eyes. Everything would make more sense after some rest. He'd figure out what the fuck was going on and what he needed to do to fix it. He just needed a nap first.

As it turned out, sleep did not, in fact, fix all of Dream's problems. When he woke up, he did so to the sound of muffled sobs. Fuck. The toddler. Okay. Dream hurriedly pushed himself upright and tried to look around- it was dark? It was dark. Okay. Interesting. Lights must be on a timer of some sort? That wasn't as important as trying to figure out what was wrong with the kid though. Dream blinked, the complete lack of light making it exceedingly difficult to see what was going on.

The Warden wasn't... wasn't nearby. There didn't seem to be cameras installed, at least not yet. And even if they were, they wouldn't be able to make out any detail with the lack of light here.

Dream made a snap choice and lifted his mask from his face, just ever so slightly. Not enough to completely disable it's magic, but enough that his features shifted ever so slightly towards his true form. His pupils narrowed, and his vision sharply improved. Enough that he could make out the shape of the piglin toddler curled up in the corner of the bed, sobbing.

Slowly, carefully, Dream made his way up onto the bed. The toddler noticed the movement and froze. Dream couldn't tell if that was- and nope. The kid was crying harder than before. Okay. So that was worse. He needed to- He needed to do something. Probably. Something.

"Hey kid, uh, it's okay?"

Alright, well that was weak as fuck. Fucking nobody was believing that. Literally not even the actual baby that probably didn’t even understand what a lie was. Try again. Maybe, uh, right, the kid had a name.

"Michael, hey, Michael, are you okay? Do you need help?"

That sounded a bit stronger, and the kid reacted to his name. Freezing again, but this time not out of fear. Hopefully. So that was actually the kid's name? Michael? It was very much a human name, which was weird given that the kid was very obviously not a hybrid. Although if the kid was infected it might make some sense. Piglins wouldn't keep an infected toddler around, no matter how much it hurt them to cast one out. Some kind of human must’ve taken him in? Or did Sam name him that? Given that the kid reacted so strongly to it, it can’t have been just given to him. So the Warden would’ve had to have been keeping him in secret? Somehow? Ugh, thoughts for another time.

After several moments without a reply, Dream carefully moved to lay down next to the toddler. He was running blind here, but maybe the kid was just scared of the dark? The nether didn't really have the whole day/night thing. It was probably freaking him out. The toddler- Michael didn't move any closer, but he also didn't pull away from Dream, which Dream considered a win.

"It's- don't worry about the dark. It's-" normal felt like a lie, none of this shit was normal "-Well it's fine. The lights will come back on later. It's just to make it easier to sleep. It happens outside too. In the overworld. There's uh- a moon. And stars. They're pretty cool. They do this normally, so, it helps?"

Well he felt really stupid, but the kid's crying had calmed down a bit. There were still faint sniffles though. And now that Dream was closer, he could see the kid was clutching at the bandages on the side of his face. Shit.

Dream moved just a little closer to the kid. Not touching though. He didn’t want to touch the toddler for any number of reasons, not the least of which was that he didn’t want the Warden thinking he’d gotten attached. Plus he had no idea how to not just make everything worse. And his hands were shaking badly enough that even if he did know what to do he wasn’t confident that he could actually do it. But he could be close, and maybe that could provide some comfort?

"I know buddy, it sucks. I got it. Just- just hold on for a bit longer. Next time the Warden comes by- I'll- I'll make sure he knows that you need medication to make that stop aching." The Warden would have to be by some point relatively soon. If the lights were anything to go off of. Dream was hoping that he intended to keep giving Michael food at the very least. And that would require in person visits given their new location. Michael would just need to hold out for a bit longer.

"No, absolutely not."

Of all the responses Dream had expected when he informed the Warden that Michael needed medical treatment, that- that really wasn't one of them. He hadn’t expected it, hadn’t prepared himself for it. Was too fucking exhausted and off balance to control his temper.

Dream couldn't help himself, he spoke without thinking.

"What do you mean- do you want him dead?"

It was too loud, it was an accusation, and impolite, and Dream knew he fucked up, but he couldn't really bring himself to regret it, even as the Warden's hand flashed out and he was slammed up against the wall. Only-

The constricting hands vanished much quicker than they should've, The Warden seemed caught off guard by-

Ah, Michael had started crying. Okay, okay, Dream could work with this, He could fix it. The Warden moved to shoo Michael into the bathroom, and that bought Dream enough time to fall to his knees and try to fix things.

"I'm sorry, Warden." Start with an apology, eyes down. "I'm not trying to imply that you want to hurt Michael." He wasn't sure the Warden even cared enough about the kid to want to harm him, given that he'd dumped him in a prison cell with Dream of all people. "It's just- I'm not sure you understand the gravity of the situation. I- it's not common knowledge outside of piglin communities, but- the fungus is- it's a very nasty infection. He needs treatment. Or he'll die. There's- there's books on it. If you can find a bastion or a trained cleric, either could give you the proper formulations-"

"I don't have time to go hunting for a bastion or some cleric. I already cleaned his injuries with a disinfectant, that should take care of any fungi."

Okay, well, ignorance was less difficult to handle here than malice. Maybe. Actually, malice might be easier since at least the Warden would know how fucking stupid he sounded.

"That won't- the fungi is internal. It's an infection. Once the spores take root it's usually incurable. But it can be kept at bay and managed. He can't- he can't have any healing or regen. It just feeds the fungi. But because of how the fungi absorbs potions, it means that harming and weakness can work in tandem to slow progression of the infection. I don't- I don't know the exact ratio for a toddler, but for an adult they usually need two harming potions a day and topically applied weakness."

The Warden glared at him, Dream tried to do everything in his power to show he wasn't lying. Fuck, The Warden could look this up himself. Should just look this up himself. But noooo, apparently not. Apparently, the child with fucking mold growing out of his flesh was totally fine, actually, and Dream was the one that was wrong

"Absolutely not. I'm not stupid, Prisoner, I'm not giving you access to harming potions or weakness."

Oh, okay, that was fine, Dream would actually love to have those, but if that was all the Warden was objecting to then he could clear that up.

"I didn't mean- I don't need them. Michael needs them. Probably just one harming potion and half a weakness applied given his size. You could just give them to him directly, You don't- you don't need to involve me at all."

Somehow, that wasn't good enough for the Warden.

"No, I don't have time. Thanks to your little stunt with Technoblade, I have to rebuild an entire prison. Your job is to watch Michael, it's not like you have anything else to be doing. Take care of it."

What the actual fuck did the Warden expect Dream to do? Magic? Suddenly invent a fucking cure for a disease that had been ravaging piglins for nearly two hundred years now? Still, Dream bit his tongue and did everything he could to keep his tone steady.

"Warden- I'm not- I understand you're busy. But there's really- there's really nothing else that can be done. He needs treatment. It won't- natural healing just doesn't hold up to something like this."

It seemed Dream had reached the end of the Warden's patience, and although the creeper hybrid didn't physically attack him (yet), he did shift his posture in a way that made it very clear he was done arguing.

"Figure it out. If it's really so important then I'll see if I can create a diluted weakness potion that you can apply to deal with this fungus. But that's it. I'm not an idiot, I won't be fooled by your pathetic tricks."

And with that, the Warden strode out of the room. Leaving Dream with a plate of food and a toddler stifling his sobs into the bedsheets.

Well, fuck.

Alright, so Dream had a toddler with a flesh eating fungal infection and not a single damn thing to treat it with, and he was in a prison cell likely deep underground with a maniac for a Warden. A maniac that didn’t know the first fucking thing about piglins or toddlers or the flesh eating fungal infection that Dream was supposed to deal with. Somehow. How badly could this possibly go?

Pretty fucking badly, as it turned out. Dream had no idea what to do with a toddler, let alone a sick one. And worse, as the time wore on, Dream found himself doing the thing he'd promised to himself he wouldn't do. He got attached.

Michael was- well, Michael was in a lot of pain. But he was also a toddler. And sometimes, when the pain faded into the background, the toddler would laugh and giggle and do stupid kid stuff. The kid couldn't talk, his Larynx was eaten through by the fungi. On the worst days, the kid struggled to breathe, so yeah, talking was out of the question. But Michael was still quite expressive. If the toddler wasn't in so much pain, Dream would've taught him sign. It was clear that the kid had a lot of thoughts that he wanted to get out, but no way to express them.

Still the two of them worked out a rough system where Dream would list options and let Michael nod when he hit the right one. It let them communicate a bit. Not a ton, but a bit. There wasn't really that much to talk about anyways. They were stuck in a prison cell, Michael was in constant pain, and everything fucking sucked. But still, Dream found himself enjoying having some form of company.

And Prime, Michael was clingy. Dream wasn't sure if it was more or less than an average toddler. He was quite sure he'd never been this clingy, but that was hardly saying much. Once the kid warmed up to Dream he was toddling everywhere after him, grabbing at Dream’s hands and trying to sit on his lap. It broke Dream's heart to have to push him off, but Dream had to be strong. He tried to explain it to Michael; that it wasn't safe. That if the Warden saw that sort of thing it could get Michael hurt. That being close to Dream wasn't a good thing.

Michael didn't care. He kept trying to cling to Dream with all the muscle that he had left in his little body. And Dream- fuck- Dream had more and more trouble pushing him away.

It didn't help that Michael was getting sicker as time went on.

Dream tried, Prime, he fucking tried. He gave Michael baths, scrubbed as hard as he dared against the wretched green mold. Ran the baths as hot as Michael could take, even when the water was burning his own skin. That helped a little bit, although not as much as he would've liked. He tried to keep Michael well fed. Hoping that maybe it would somehow stave off the fungi.

None of it really seemed to do much at all. Time wore on, and Michael grew worse and worse. Eventually, and only after watching Michael's condition visibly deteriorate, The Warden finally agreed to actually bring Dream a weakness potion. And for a moment, Dream had hope. Sure, the Warden had said it would be diluted, but maybe, just maybe this was it. Something that would actually help. Dream had applied it with baited breath, hoping and praying to gods he didn't believe in and gods he believed in the existence of but thought were assholes.

Five hours later, Dream had to accept the truth.

Michael wasn't going to make it.

The weakness potion hadn't done shit. Not that Dream had really been expecting much- it was basically just water. But he'd been holding out hope for-

Fuck, He didn't know anymore.

Michael was in his lap. He'd given up on keeping the toddler away. The Warden wasn't going to be back today, so no one was there to see it. Dream felt like he owed the kid this much at the very least.

The fungi was winning. Without proper treatment, there was nothing to keep the infection at bay. At best, Michael might have a few days left. His breathing was getting worse and worse.

From his lap, a sorrowful snuffling drew his attention. Michael was crying again. Pitiful soft noises pulled at the rotten strings around Dream's heart. Sighing, Dream moved his arms to cradle Michael closer. It didn't help.

"I know buddy, I know." It was all he could say. He couldn't promise it would get better. That would be a lie. Was it better to lie here? To make a false promise that everything was going to be okay? Did it matter? Dream didn’t know. Prime knows he’d told so many lies, what was one more? But- but he didn’t want to lie to Michael. He wanted to have an actual answer. A solution. Something. And yet here he was.

It was strange, out of all the torture he'd been put through, this was the first time Dream found himself feeling completely and utterly helpless. There was nothing he could do to help here. Nothing he could do to change the inevitable course that nature would take. At least with Quackity he could beg, he could read the man’s mood and try to sway things. But here he could do nothing. Nothing except-

His eyes drifted to the dresser. While the wood wasn't strong enough to do much against an opponent like the Warden, Dream could fashion something sharp enough to do a little bit of damage. He could end it all. Really, he'd just be saving Michael a lot of pain. At some point, wasn't it the moral thing to do?

But- If he did- the Warden would kill him. No doubt about it. At least if Michael passed from the infection, the Warden would blame Dream but his anger would be lessened. And-

And Dream didn't want to. He didn't want to take Michael's life.

It was selfish, but Dream had been through so much goddamn shit. Hadn’t he earned the right to be a little selfish? Just once?

Dream let out another sigh. Even a revival wouldn't help. Revival wouldn't cure something like a fungal infection this deeply rooted into someone so fragile. At best it'd buy another few weeks. If it worked at all. XD might not be willing to bring back someone who didn't have any human in them. The god had said the book wouldn't work on animals, and Dream wasn't sure how he felt about piglins.

Wait.

Oh fuck, he was so fucking stupid. The revival book.

Hurriedly, Dream scrambled to get to the bookcase, using one hand to hold Michael to his chest. The Warden had left blank books for him. Somehow, that was the one constant in Dream's life. Blank books and ink, the only reason he was left alive. The only use the Warden hadn't managed to cut out of him. He grabbed the book and the pen, shifting Michael so that he could write. The toddler whined in protest.

"Sorry, sorry. This is important. I need to do this. There's a chance he'll help you. I have to- I have to try.”

With the book propped up on his leg, Dream began to write. His hands were shaky, and some of his fingers felt fundamentally wrong still, but it wasn't as bad as it could be. Sure, the pain was there, but Dream was used to far worse. He could push himself through it. He had to.

Shaky symbols fell into place. One after the other. Dream let himself fade into the motions. He knew them by heart. The pain, the shaking, the soul wrenching ache all were left behind as he drifted from his body as it worked. Michael's labored breathing was the only thing tethering Dream to reality, keeping him bound just enough to keep pushing forward. He couldn't decide if that chain was a good thing or not. The temptation to drift called his name with such softness, but he'd learned not to trust soft things a long time ago.

Dream couldn't tell how long had passed, but at some point he blinked and his work was done. The book was written. Dropping the pen, he took a deep breath in. Rushing back to himself.

Fuck, his hand hurt.

Body jerking against his will to curl in at the sharp stabbing pain, Dream barely avoided waking Michael. As it was, the toddler snuffled and twitched in Dream's lap. Dream tried to let out soothing noises, but it was hard. His breath kept hitching as the pain in his hands grew in waves. Fuck. In retrospect, he probably should've tried to space out the writing a bit. Or take a break. But then the Warden might've discovered what he was doing, and Dream didn't know how he'd react. The book wasn't complete, but the Warden might consider it good enough and just kill him.

That thought was enough to push him to finish the task, despite the pain still reverberating through his hands and arm. He couldn't get his fingers to uncurl, so he did his best to work with it. Gently, he shook Michael awake. A protesting whine made him smile despite the pain, and once one hazy eye opened to look at him, Dream spoke, voice low and as controlled as he could manage.

"Hey Michael, I know you're hurting, but you gotta get up. We're trying something."

With a bit of prodding, the toddler sleepily got up and stumbled to sit near the doorway. Within line of sight, but far enough away that Dream had space to burn the book. Speaking of which-

For several seconds, Dream focused on sound. His hearing had gotten better over the past year. Despite the numerous blows to the head, which sometimes left his vision blurry for weeks at a time, he'd been fortunate enough to keep his ears sharp. Oftentimes it was the only sense he could trust. Now he was trusting the dead silence of the prison to mean the Warden was asleep. Good. Dream had to do something very risky here. The book was thick and leather bound, not easily burned. There was no lava to toss it into, and no way for him to get a strong enough fire to burn it with the limited materials and time he had. Not without changing the game in his favor. Not without taking a risk.

Pulling off his mask, Dream let his hybrid form flow fully into existence. The process used to hurt, but these days his bones extending and flesh stretching out felt more like a relief than anything else. His wings flared out behind him, much to Michael's delight. Little hands waved in excitement, former sleepiness forgotten. It pulled a soft laugh from Dream. Only for a moment though, then he had to focus. It'd been so long since he'd done this. Hopefully his throat could take it. He had to be very careful where he aimed too. While he didn't think his fire would hurt Michael (the singular benefit to the fungal infection was in how it reversed the effect of damaging magic) Dream would still rather not risk it. After several deep breaths, Dream felt the familiar spark of magic in his throat. He gave it everything he had, pushing his energy towards it and from his mouth came a dark jet of purple flame, curling and twisting as it rushed to engulf the book on the ground. The moment it touched the book, the flame caught, the tome crackled and vaporized in a flash of light.

For a heartbeat, the air was stilled, not stagnant or still but stilled like it’d been flash frozen in place.

XD's appearance was blinding but silent. Thank fuck. Light spilled out from the god's form, hurting Dream's eyes to look at after so long in the dim light of distant redstone lamps. Dream wished he could put his mask back on, but his hands refused to consider the notion. It wouldn't do much anyways. He settled for looking at Michael instead. The toddler was in awe of the god in front of him, a wary awe, but awe all the same. When Michael turned to look at Dream for guidance, he offered what he hoped was a reassuring nod. XD was safe for the moment. Hopefully. Or, rather, XD was uninterested in Michael. Which was basically the same thing.

The god himself was taking in Dream's current state. Unlike Dream's mask, XD's shifted to show emotion, and the judgment in the god's expression was clear. Dream tried not to squirm under the expression, waiting for the god’s inspection to finish. After several long seconds, the god finally noticed Dream's wings and perked up, breaking the silence.

"Ah! You've found your wings again! And your scales! They look so nice attached to your flesh! You should wear them like that more often."

Alright.

That sure was a sentence.

Dream suppressed the shiver going down his spine, doing his best to remain calm. XD wasn't a hunter. He wasn't going to try to take his wings or teeth. Keeping that in mind, Dream took a deep breath to steady himself before speaking, voice level and soft so as to not spook Michael.

"Thank you. I needed this form to burn the book for Michael."

As he spoke, Dream tilted his head towards the child, redirecting the god's attention. XD swiveled, looking the toddler over, expression darkening as he did so. Michael's face scrunched up as best it could, trying to mimic the expression of the mask. After a few moments of their little staring contest, XD turned back, lifting up one hand to hold his chin in a mimicry of thought. That was new. Dream only had a moment to wonder where the god had learned the gesture from, before XD spoke.

"Well, he's not dead yet. Technically speaking. Well on his way though."

"I'm aware." Dream winced at his own sharp tone. Fuck, he didn't want to ruin XD's mood, but his hands hurt and his body was exhausted. With another breath, Dream collected himself and moderated his tone. "I- I didn't know what the book would do after he died. If it would just bring him back like this? I thought- I thought maybe you could do something now. Save the trouble of having to resurrect him too?"

XD processed that, nodding in thought, and turning back to Michael. Two of XD's hands reached out to touch the toddler, something that Michael thankfully didn't reject. It just got a soft whine out of him, which was most likely from the aches still plaguing his body. With touches that looked gentle, XD moved Michael's limbs and pushed aside bandages to inspect the exposed bones. When the toddler whined again, XD hushed him and a soft green glow spread from the ghostly hands to Michael's body. Michael's singular eye got a hazy look about it, and the little piglin allowed XD to finish his inspection before the god turned back to Dream, a frown on his mask.

"The infection is quite far along. He’s young and it’s a very nasty infection. The only way to get rid of it completely would be to remake him. He’d have no memories, and his prior personality would be gone. I'm capable of that, but it would be the same as swapping him for another. I could just do that instead? Go get you an undamaged one? There’s lots of them out there and they’re quite easy to steal. Is that what you want?"

No, that sounded terrible. No different than death. And Dream certainly didn’t want another goddamn toddler dragged into this. Dream quickly shook his head, and thankfully the god continued.

"I suppose I could also just repair some of it? I can get rid of most of the infection itself, patch up the surface flesh and fix up some of the internals. Not perfect, but an improvement. Some of the infection will still be there, it’s part of him at this point, but most of it would be gone. And he’d keep his memories and what not. He'd live for a while longer, most likely, unless you drop him into lava or something. He’d still be damaged, but not quite so badly."

Perfect. As long as Michael lived, that was all they needed. Or close. After a moment of thought to make sure he hadn’t missed a hidden condition, Dream nodded, adding a request.

"If it's possible, can you make sure he's not in pain? Or at least, not a lot? And uh- I don't really know much about this myself, but Techno said when piglins get the infection it changes their scent. Other piglins reject them as a result. If the infection's progression is halted, then will that fix his scent? So he can go back to a bastion?"

XD hummed softly as he considered the statement, Michael was being slowly moved around by a total of four hands now. After several seconds of inspection, the god gave a nod.

"The pain should be numbed. Not gone entirely, mortal creatures need pain I’m told, but far less than he Is now. The smell of infection should fade within a few days. He might smell different, but what parts of the infection remain will be part of him. Different, but not of infection, and not capable of infecting any other piglins."

The tension bled from Dream's shoulders as if a thick blade had split the flesh there apart (god that had really fucked sucked, thank Prime Quackity had only done it once). He could barely speak, but he forced relieved words out.

"Yes- that'd be perfect. Thank you."

XD's mask grinned, and with a nod a green light spread out from his hands once again, this time growing in intensity until the light was so blinding that Dream had to shut his eyes and duck his head. Even without sight, he could still feel the magic in front of him. Warm, pulsing, alive, and dangerous. Time ticked by at an impossible to track rate. It might not actually be passing by. From prior experience, time was strange when XD came by.

Eventually, the deed was done. The warmth receded. Dream opened his eyes to see four hands carefully cradling Michael, hiding him from sight. XD's grin was still in place as he held the now-sleeping toddler out with a bit of a wiggle, as if he was proud of what he'd done. With shaking hands, Dream reached out to take Michael.

The toddler looked league's better. For starters, there was no longer any exposed bone. A layer of what looked like scar tissue was covering the formerly visible eye socket. Michael's left eye was still gone, but his left ear was back. The green tint was gone from his skin, and the smell of rot was no longer permeating the room. At least as far as Dream could tell. Most importantly of all, Michael was taking long, slow breaths in his sleep. Soft, huffy, and free of pain. Thank god.

Or, rather, thank one specific god. Dream turned his head back up towards the deity still standing in the room. While XD had always unnerved Dream, and Dream still didn’t trust the god’s intentions, maybe- just maybe, the god wasn't so bad after all.

"Thank you. He's- This is better than what I was hoping for. I- Thank you."

XD brightened up, hands wiggling in a familiar motion. Dream used to do that himself when he was proud of something he'd done. It relaxed him, to see such a similar movement. That relaxation vanished the moment one of XD's hands reached out to brush the tip of one of Dream's wings. Fuck. Fuck no. What-

"I have to be going now, but it was nice to see you again. Next time we meet, it will be like this." The god paused, retracting his hand before he finished his statement with a tone Dream couldn't discern. "You shouldn't be hiding from me."

With that, the god vanished. The room was dark once again. Dream was alone in a prison cell with a no-longer dying toddler. Not a situation he particularly wanted to be in, but so much better than it'd been before. His body was shaking, from fear or exhaustion. It didn't really matter. He'd hit that tipping point once again, where his brain overloaded and he just shut down and did. It was a nice place to be. In a way. Until he had to leave it.

Dream pushed himself to his feet, unsteady but moving on autopilot. Every bone in his body ached, but he pushed through it. A few shaky steps and he was on the bed again, Michael held carefully in his arms. He didn't even bother to pull the blankets over them, his head hit the pillow and that was all he could take. As his world faded to black, he could only hope that any nightmares would be left until he woke up.

When Dream woke up, he was no longer stuck with a dying toddler, and that brought some changes.

The first concern had been hiding Michael's recent miraculous healing from the Warden. At the time, Dream had just been desperate for Michael to live. He hadn't really been thinking things through. Things still worked out surprisingly well for him.

Or, like, relatively well. All things considered.

For the first few days he hid Michael away in the bathtub as he'd learned to do when the Warden stopped by, so the Warden wouldn't see him, and kept the bandages in place to hide the healed flesh. He reported to the Warden that the potion had worked quite well and Michael appeared to be recovering. That was the right thing to say, since it prompted the Warden to give him another to ensure the progress kept up. Dream carefully hid the potion in a little spot he'd started carving out behind the dresser. It really wasn't any much better than water, but since the Warden hadn't thought to ask for the last bottle back, the glass might still make a decent weapon. Dream might also be able to strengthen the potion somehow.

He kept that up for a few more days, waiting for a day when the Warden seemed particularly tired to ask to bring Michael out, to show the progress that the potions had made. The Warden was obviously not really in a mood for it, but agreed all the same.

When Michael toddled out without a limp, moving mostly on his own two feet, even the Warden's mood seemed improved, and when Dream was able to peel off the bandages to reveal healed flesh he held his breath. Anyone who knew anything about zombie fungi would know this was impossible. An absurd recovery that if it happened at all should’ve taken years. But-

"Excellent. I knew my potions could take of the infection. You should've know better than to argue with me." Thank fucking Prime that the Warden was such a fucking moron.

Dream nodded easily. "I'm sorry Warden, I'm glad he's recovered now. I don't believe he'll need any more, but I'll alert you if the infection reoccurs."

That was it. Somehow, Dream got away with that absolute bullshit excuse of a lie.

Which just left him stuck in a prison cell with a toddler. Right. Okay. Toddler wasn't dying. This wasn't Pandora's vault. It didn't have the elder guardians, the security features, any of the big build up that had kept him so tightly locked up before. He had a chance to escape on his own here.

Given, he wasn't entirely sure if he needed to escape on his own. Techno had- Techno had promised he'd get him out of Pandora's Vault. The thought almost made Dream laugh. In a way, Techno had. When he disappeared, Dream sure was fucking out of Pandora's Vault, but he wasn't where he wanted to be.

Part of Dream wondered if Techno considered that enough. Considered their deal fulfilled since Dream was no longer in the Vault. Or had just flat out given up when the Warden had taken them off to wherever they were now.

It didn't seem like something Techno would do, but Dream had learned his lesson about trusting other people. As much as he hoped that Techno was still coming for him, he couldn't count on it. Particularly since it wasn't just him here anymore. He needed to at least try to escape, and for that he was going to need a plan.

O

Chapter Text

The first step of Dream’s absolutely functional and well thought out plan was teaching Michael sign language.

Given, Dream could've probably kept making do with their makeshift gestures and guessing, but he really needed a way to communicate with the toddler silently, and in a way that the Warden wouldn’t notice. Luckily, he still remembered quite a bit of what he'd learned from Callahan, and if he made some of it up, then there was nobody else here to correct him. Sam had never bothered to learn any sign language, which made it safer to teach.

That just left the actual matter of teaching, which was… complicated.

XD's healing had improved Michael's hearing, and the little piglin now had a slightly wider range of grunts and sniffs, but his throat was clearly damaged beyond repair. His vision was a bit better, but still his weakest sense. What with the whole 'only having one eye thing' and all.

Obviously, his vision being damaged made teaching sign language a more difficult task. But still, Michael could see, and he could hear Dream's instructions and seemed at least mostly fluent in Common. So they made it work. Dream made sure that he was facing Michael when he was teaching, and on Michael's good side so the toddler could clearly see the movements. They started slow, just some basic signs, finger spelling, and emergency signals. It was going better than Dream had been expecting it to.

Only, well... it was hard sometimes. Michael was very eager to learn and once he got the hang of the basics he was very hungry for more. But as Dream quickly realized, he could only offer so much. Not for lack of knowledge, but because his fingers weren't quite so fond of having to bend into complicated shapes anymore.

More than once he considered just rebreaking them himself. He could pick a fight with the Warden afterwards. Bait him into a physical altercation. The Warden could lose his temper quite easily, it was getting worse by the day. And afterwards he'd be forced to use healing potions which /should/ set the broken bones correctly.

Dream really did consider it, and if he'd been alone he might've gone through with it. It wouldn't be the first time he'd pulled that trick to fix a misplaced bone.

But... Michael would panic. Dream hadn't found a way to explain the little piglin that it wasn't a big deal if Dream got hurt. That he was used to this. That he was used to a lot worse. No matter how many times he tried to offer those reassurances when the Warden left him bloody, Michael refused to listen. And Dream really didn't want to scare the toddler like that if he could avoid it.

So, Dream put up with the broken fingers. He adjusted signs, made up new ones when he had to. And they worked through it as best they could.

While Dream's sense of time wasn't perfect, he was pretty sure that it was a month after Techno left that he'd summoned XD in the new cell, give or take a week or so. After that, it was another three weeks of teaching Michael sign language before he ran into a new roadblock.

Micheal got better.

Before, the toddler had been effectively dying slowly, constantly in pain and rotting away inside. Dream was glad he wasn't doing that anymore, but now that the toddler wasn't actively dying, he had a lot more energy to do kid things like run around and play. Energy that Dream didn't have quite as much of.

In fact, as Michael got better, Dream found his own condition slowly getting worse.

See, there was a problem that he hadn't really foreseen with this new arrangement. The Warden stopped by at least once a day, generally twice. Which was good for a lot of things. Food, for one. Most days they were fed at least something. Even if Dream couldn't eat every day, Michael almost never had to go without. Which was good. It also meant that Dream could stash food away for their escape. Not much, but a slowly building stockpile.

But The Warden’s constant visits meant that Dream couldn't shift into his hybrid form anymore. Not for days on end like he used to be able to back in the Vault. Between Techno showing up in the Vault and ending up as his roommate for... a few weeks? a month? maybe two? He wasn't really sure. That whole thing, plus his relocation, and the Warden's new attentiveness, he’d been mostly locked to his human form.

For most of Dream's life, that was hardly an issue. He spent most of his time in his human form anyways, mask firmly in place. Held by magic powerful enough that not a goddamn thing Quackity had tried could get it off.

Except, Dream had kinda sorta been removing it a lot more recently to... cheat? That seemed like the wrong phrase, but it was all he could think of. Because his hybrid form was so different, the destructive magic that ran through it usually took care of any sort of infection or illness that set into him. The few sicknesses it couldn’t clean he could handle by bringing his body temperature up to a boiling point. Something that had been easy to do when he’d been surrounded by lava.

It'd saved his life in the Vault, but the purgewasn’t instantaneous. The longer he was sick, the longer it took for the magic and high temperatures to cleanse him. If he got too sick, it wouldn't be safe to shift at all. His mask wouldn’t come off, a safety measure he’d implemented after a particularly nasty shift had almost killed him as a young teenager.

In the Vault, with Sam seemingly vanishing for weeks on end, this hadn't been really been problem. Quackity had been a bigger concern, but still there’d been breaks just long enough for him to clear his system out.

Here and now, Dream could hardly spend an hour in his hybrid form safely. He was slowly trying to catch up on lost time, but it just wasn't enough. He could feel himself getting sicker. Could feel the infection slowly taking him in. It ate away at his energy, and Michael really did try to behave himself, but Prime, it was so obvious that the kid was bored out of his mind.

Toddlers needed, like, shit to do. They needed toys, and a caretaker that wasn’t spending half his time struggling to sit up. Dream couldn’t fix the second half of things, not yet anyways, but he wished he could do something about the first. If he’d bad more supplies to work with, maybe he could’ve, but there just wasn’t anything he could safely cannibalize for toys. He could tell stories when his voice held out, but those stories could only go so far. And while he tried to teach Michael about the stuff he remembered, he only remembered so much.

One day, Dream broke.

"Uh, Warden?"

Dream had tucked Michael away in the bathtub. It'd become an unspoken agreement between him and the Warden. That Michael was best left out of whatever was happening between them. Dream preferred it that way, even if he could feel the heavy weight of Michael's sorrowful eyes watching him every time he had to leave the kid there. Not knowing if he'd be back in a few minutes or limping in several hours later when he regained consciousness.

Today, he was hoping things would go over well and he'd be able to go get Michael soon. The Warden's mood seemed to be... decent? Not actively hostile which was a marked improvement over the two days prior.

Good enough that Dream wasn't instantly hit for speaking up, and instead just given a firm glare that was as close to permission to speak as he was going to get.

"I know you're busy, and I'm not trying to impose, but... Michael's getting bored. He's a toddler, and I'm trying my best, but he really needs toys. And books. Or something to do. I've- I've been trying to teach him stuff, but I only know so much and I don't want him to fall behind on his education just because I don't know something."

To Dream’s surprise, he wasn’t instantly shot down. The Warden’s glare softened just a touch and he seemed to glance around the room for the first time. Somehow only now realizing that there really wasn’t much of anything for a toddler to do. Several moments passed before the Warden responded, reserved, but not angry or upset.

“I’ve been busy updating the prison’s security measures, but yes, education is important, and I suppose he would need some toys to play with. I… I’ll find something. I have some old textbooks he can use.”

At this point the Warden was mostly talking to himself, and Dream let his shoulders relax and just nodded politely. Not wanting to speak and risk upsetting the Warden’s mood.

The next day, as he’d promised, the Warden brought by a set of old blocks, a few tin figures, and a set of worn books. Science textbooks mostly, with an old guide for writing in Common. Not perfect, and well above Michael’s age range, but it was something that he could work with.

“Here, this should be more than enough to keep him busy. I couldn’t find any storybooks, but you should be able to take of those. You write nonsense all the time.”

Rude, and kind of ignoring the fact that Dream had given up writing after he got his fucking fingers broken for the third time, but whatever. Still, a lot more than Dream had been hoping for.

So, books in hand, Dream started teaching Michael some of the basics. He showed Michael how to stack the blocks and tried to teach him some of the letters. He taught him about the stars, about how you could navigate based on them in the overworld, and some of the stories they represented.

Michael, of course, wasn’t very interested in navigation but was fascinated with the stories. He was always clamoring for more. And that… that was something Dream could provide.

It started off with the historical stories that Dream could remember. About how humans found the overworld, about the first contact between piglins and humans. The stories of wars he could recall and a few things he made up to fill in the blanks.

Quickly though, he ran out of history. So he turned to more personal stories. Michael was particularly interested in stories about piglins, and Dream quickly found himself going through old stories of him and Techno, how they’d met, Techno’s entire stupid potato war. Winning a tournament together. Working together on the SMP.

Those were definitely Michael’s favorite stories, and Dream didn’t mind telling them. They didn’t bring back too many bad memories. Techno hadn’t hurt him, not like the others had. So stories of him were fine. Dream wasn’t concerned about Techno ever hurting Michael either, if he happened to find out about the tiny piglin’s existence.

Michael’s sign language was improving too. The little piglin had learned some of the basic animal signs, and he’d finally figured out how pronouns worked. It meant that the two of them could actually talk a bit, something that was both a blessing and a curse.

“Chickens-Michael-misses-sad”

It was a little comment. Apparently, Michael had had chickens at some point. He didn’t seem to remember much about where he came from. Or, if he did, he wasn’t telling Dream about it. But when Dream had drawn him crude pictures of farm animals, Michael had almost instantly recognized the chickens and gotten excited.

While not impossible for chickens to live in the nether, they were a very uncommon sight. It’d narrow down the possible bastions that Michael could’ve come from for sure. It must be one that was close to the overworld. Maybe even one with a few hybrids making regular trips back and forth?

Whatever the case, Michael loved chickens. And he missed them. Dream tried to put it out of his mind, the Warden would lose his mind if Dream asked him to go find a living creature just to make Michael happy. It wasn’t something Dream could fix. Hell, of Michael’s problems, it was relatively small. The toddler just missed chickens. Compared to the fact the toddler had been kidnapped and was currently missing an eye, that should’ve matter so much less than anything else.

Except, fuck, Dream got it. He still missed Hope.

So, he… improvised.

He’d been working for awhile to scrape away at the back of the dresser. During the brief periods he could use his true form, his talons let him make deeper cuts and pull out chunks of wood. It took a few tries, but he managed to get out just enough wood to make a crude sewing needle.

Thread was picked out of the sheets, and he took scraps of fabric from the corners of the sheets and pillowcases. Michael’s pants needed to be trimmed anyways, so he took the extra fabric off that too.

It wasn’t much, but it was just enough for him to loosely stitch together something that vaguely resembled the shape of a chicken.

…

Well, to a child that was half-blind, it probably looked like a chicken?

This was dumb, Dream was an idiot, he should just-

And then Michael tugged at his sleeve, clearly curious about what Dream had been working on for the past hour. Without thinking, Dream lowered the scrap plush for his inspection and-

Oh.

One little eye went wide with delight and Michael was reaching out with his little hands to grab the plush, squealing in a way that was clearly delighted. The piglin was so delicate in how he clutched the plush in one hand, pulling the other free to sign with.

“Chicken? Michael’s?”

Well, apparently it was good enough for Michael.

“Yeah, he’s a chicken. And he’s yours, bud. You can take him wherever you want.”

Michael-

God, the kid started doing a little victory dance, the sort that Dream usually saw piglins doing after a successful hoglin hunt. It was adorable, and Dream couldn’t help himself, he threw his head back and laughed at the kid’s antics.

At least he could manage this much. It felt- it felt good to be able to do something right.

Speaking of doing something right, Dream wanted to teach Michael to read. It wasn’t as important as basic survival skills, but it still felt important to him. Reading was one of the few skills he’d had that had let him learn how to fit in. That let him advance his knowledge of the world. And for all that bastions had fairly robust education systems, piglin was only a spoken language, and the odds of a bastion having a means to teach reading common were quite low.

So, Dream took it upon himself to teach Michael to read as he worked towards their escape. The textbooks that Sam had given him were all written in tiny text that was impossible for the half-blind piglin to read, which left it up to Dream to make up the difference.

He started simple, replicating a picture book that he remembered reading once upon a time. A little story about a fox that stole from pillagers and how it befriended an iron golem. It was fairly short, and it took him nearly two weeks to get through just the lettering. The pictures took another week, and his hands were aching by the end of it.

But the end result was something that Michael could read, and the little piglin delighted in sitting in Dream’s lap as he slowly read through the story. He had the toddler trace the pictures and the words, trying to connect the two in the child’s brain.

Dream had to take a week’s break after the first book, his hands ached too much and a cough had started in his lungs. But as soon as he felt well enough, he started on a second book.

This time, it was a shortened (and nicer) version of the story of how overworlders met piglins again. Michael was more than happy to watch as Dream did the lettering this time, and even copy some of the letters down in his own clunky handwriting.

The Warden-

The Warden was constantly in flux. Sometimes he just came by to drop off food. Sometimes he was upset. Sometimes he was upset enough that Dream had to pay for it. Dream tried not to dwell on it too much, but it was hard when Michael got so upset every time a new set of bruises was left on Dream’s arms.

Inspection days were always a coin toss. Michael was… getting more and more upset with the Warden as time went on. And the Warden wasn’t trying to hurt him, but he wasn’t exactly gentle with the toddler either. Dream had tried to explain that he needed to be gentler and had gotten backhanded for his troubles.

More recently, inspection days had included the books, basically as soon as the Warden had noticed Dream was writing them again. The story of the fox was brushed through and given a nod of approval. The history book-

“What is this?”

The Warden had gotten to one of the last pages, a page featuring several piglins from history. His finger was pointing towards a piglin with a royal cape and golden crown. Ah.

Dream had included Techno without thinking, but it was hardly surprising that the Warden was upset about it. Right. Okay. Dream could handle this. The Warden didn’t know shit about piglins.

“That’s King Sol-in-fe. He was the first of the piglin bastion leaders to establish a proper trading route and safe passage for adventurers from the overworld. I thought it’d be good for Michael to learn about him.”

It took a lot to not shiver under the Warden’s glare, but Dream did his best to keep his voice innocent and body free from tension. It was only partially a lie, that was indeed what King Sol-in-fe had done, but the piglin wasn’t known for wearing a cape.

Still, it seemed like Dream got away with it? The Warden grunted and moved on to the unfinished pages.

“Fine. I suppose he should know his history. Just be careful what you’re teaching him. I don’t want him getting any.., ideas. Or idolizing bad actors. He should remain unpolluted from that nonsense.”

The Warden dropped the book and quite suddenly snagged Dream’s shirt, one hand going straight to his neck. There was only a half a moment where Dream could breath before the hand was clamping down and-

Honestly, he had no fucking clue what the Warden was saying because the lack of air started off a coughing fit that he couldn’t seem to stop.

After nearly a minute, as it became apparent that the coughing fit wasn’t going away, the Warden eased up on his neck. A few seconds longer and he had dropped Dream back on the bed, moving him and-

A healing potion wasn’t a great solution for coughing, but it was dumped all over him. And that seemed to be just enough for his chest to pull some air back into it.

By the time that he got his breath back, he could feel the warden moving him around. Feeling at his forehead which was probably pretty flush by now.

“… are you getting sick, Prisoner? You never got sick before.”

Dream could only shrug his shoulders in response. He certainly wasn’t about to tell the truth. The most he could muster was a half-hearted answer.

“…it’s colder ‘ere. Might be why.”

The Warden didn’t seem particularly convinced, but didn’t press the issue. Instead he rummaged through his inventory for… another healing potion?

This one wasn’t topical so it held up to him rather than being splashed all over him. Dream didn’t dare protest. He brought one hand up and slipped the mask slightly to the side, just enough that he could chug the potion. His breathing eased further, and he felt his body cool off a bit.

“You don’t have time to be sick, you need to be watching Michael.”

That was all the Warden said before he left, leaving Dream feeling a bit better but knowing the relief was temporary. Healing potions and regen could clear an illness temporarily but they wouldn’t actually fix anything. The Warden was going to have to either keep feeding him them or put up with him being out for a few weeks. And eventually the Warden would get sick of having to fill him with potions.

Hopefully by then they’d either be free or the Warden would have time to actually take care of Michael. And have bothered to learn how to take care of Michael.

As much as Dream wanted to hope, he was going to have to angle for the first one, since it was the only one he had any real control over. In the meantime, he went back to working on Michael’s books. It was all he could do for the moment.

Time wore on in the cell. Dream kept making books. He kept teaching Michael. And he kept preparing for their escape.

If they were going to get out, it was going to have to be through the nether. Dream knew that much for sure. He’d convinced Sam to let him have a little sewing kit, not much, but enough to keep their clothing in decent shape. The needle wasn’t built for leather, but Dream had plenty of time to guide it through, and hour by painstaking hour he managed to put together some very rudimentary shoes from the leather of a blank book. One set for him and one set for Michael.

They were hardly pretty, but they would keep their feet mostly protected from the harsh stone of the nether. Michael could honestly probably be fine barefoot, but his hooves were soft from having spent so long on carpeting and Dream didn’t want anything slowing them down.

The shoes were hidden away in the lining of the mattress. Alongside a mixture of water and ashes in the empty weakness potion bottle, which he could use to dye their clothing before they ran. Black would stand out a lot less than the stark white of their current outfits.

Dream had been feeling fairly good.

Well, okay, not actually. He’d been feeling fucking awful. He’d been sick and exhausted and barely able to stand up on the days when the Warden didn’t give him a healing potion. His head was always pounding, his bones ached, his leg still hadn’t been set right, and he could barely life Michael anymore.

But escape wise, he’d been feeling almost ready.

And then the Warden decided that whatever work he was doing on the prison, it was good enough.

The day had seemed like any other. The Warden had asked to see Michael, and Dream had dutifully retrieved him from the bathtub. Only-

The Warden then left without another word. Michael hadn’t even had time to grab Chicken. Dream hadn’t-

He hadn’t known what to make of it. It wasn’t time for Michael to go to the nether. Nothing had happened that he’d known of. Michael was there, and then he was gone and the Warden was gone with him.

This… this was going to complicate their escape. Dream wasn’t- he wasn’t going to leave Michael here. Not after everything that they’d been through. Was this the Warden’s plan? Had Dream been falling for his trick the entire goddamn time?

Dream wasn’t sure, all he knew was his body was exhausted. The Warden hadn’t bothered giving him a healing potion before he left, and all Dream could bring himself to do was lay back on the bed and try not to cry.

When he woke up, it was violently. It’d been awhile since he was woken up with his head slamming against the wall. He still didn’t like it very much. The Warden was angry about something, but Dream couldn’t be bothered to give a shit. He already felt like his entire body was on fire and nothing made sense. What was a bit more pain?

After being slammed around a few more times, the Warden moved one hand to strangle him and jerked back. Clearly alarmed by the high temperature of Dream’s skin. He was dropped back onto the bed, and a healing potion splashed over him. A few seconds passed by before another one was dropped. First one must not have done much. They’d stopped doing much a few weeks back.

Still, two was enough for him to have some sense of focus back. He blearily looked up the Warden.

“What did you do?” Came the angry accusation. Dream was hard pressed to give a shit.

“Reall’ can’ do much here. Kinda’ jus’ layin’ aro’nd.”

It wasn’t the right answer, but the Warden held himself back which was a bit unusual.

“What did you do to Michael?” And for a moment, Dream’s heart stopped. Had the Warden finally figured out that Dream had used the book? Had someone told him that an infection like that shouldn’t just recover? Then the Warden continued, tone growing more and more angry. “He won’t listen to a word I say, he’s constantly crying and trying to bite me, I know you did something!”

Ah. Okay. So the Warden was just being fucking stupid. Fuck, Dream had tried to explain this shit to him. But apparently he hadn’t listened.

Dream should placate. He should calm the Warden down, try to be able to speak to Michael and get the toddler to behave at least a little more.

But fuck, Dream was so fucking tired, and he wasn’t thinking straight. That was his excuse anyways.

“Have you considered that maybe you just fucking suck with kids?”

He expected the pain that followed. Dream was halfway to dissociating anyways. It wasn’t that hard to just fade out of his body for a bit and come back after the Warden had finished. Whatever happened there wasn’t really his business.

When he came back, he was bloody and laying on the floor of the cell. It’d been awhile since the Warden had left him in this sort of state. Guess that would be happening more often now that there wasn’t a toddler there to witness everything. His arm was still broken too. Oh well. He’d deal with that later.

Dream had been expecting to be left alone for awhile longer. He’d been expecting to be left with blood pooling and his fever ramping up until the Warden got angry enough to visit him again.

What he wasn’t expect was a regen potion being splashed over him. The stronger magic surging through him and stitching him back together. His eyes blinked open and he saw-

Well that was definitely the Warden, but something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

It took several seconds for Dream to puzzle out what was different now. His brain clicked it into place just as the Warden turned, ranting about something or another.

The Warden’s armor was no longer shining. It no longer had the glimmer of enchantment and the magic had been stripped from it. That was… odd. The Warden wasn’t one to remove any kind of protection, let alone his armor’s enchantment. Netherite wasn’t anything to sneeze at on it’s own, but lacking any of it’s magic… well it would certainly make escape a hell of a lot easier.

Dream tried to tune into what the Warden was saying, but all he could make out was something about ‘not having time for this’, and then the man was storming out.

Okay.

Okay, Dream could work with this.

Dream could-

And then the cell door was slamming open again, and the Warden was shoving Michael into Dream’s arm. The little piglin was- well he was snarling and growling until he noticed Dream. And then he’d forgotten all about the Warden in favor of frantically trying to check Dream over.

Likewise, Dream forgot all about the Warden in favor of trying to make sure that Michael was okay. The toddler was certainly stressed out, he was tense but seemed…

Well, Dream was going to say unharmed, but the magic burns along the kid’s mouth and hands said otherwise. Several things clicked into place at once. He let out a long sigh.

“Buddy, we talked about this, you can’t attack the Warden.” No wonder the Warden had to strip his armor, if Michael wasn’t stopping when the Thorns burned him then he must’ve been near feral.

Michael growled and shook his head, he made several aborted gestures before finally settling on two.

“Dream-hurt.”

As if that explained everything.

Dream shut his eyes and took a deep breath. Opening them again, he looked up to see that the Warden had left without a word. Likely not wanting to risk being around Michael any longer.

“I get that buddy, but it’s not your job to protect me. I can handle myself. I need you to handle yourself and keep yourself safe.”

Previously, Michael would’ve nodded, if reluctantly. Now… now it seemed like that wasn’t going to work anymore. The little piglin stubbornly shook his head. Little arms crossed in defiance.

This… this was going to make some things harder and some things easier.

One thing was for certain, they had to get out. If the Warden’s armor was disenchanted then that was going to be their best shot. Enchanting took time and resources, but Dream was certain it wouldn’t stay that way for longer than a week.

One week.

Dream could do this.

The first thing they needed was a backpack. Dream had set aside leather from book covers, but he hadn’t done the stitches yet. It was too much of a risk if it was discovered. The shoes he could excuse. A backpack he could not. It took him almost a full night of work, but he took advantage of the regen still flowing in his veins to get it done.

It fit just about everything he was going to be able to carry. He hide it away just minutes before the Warden came by.

He tried to get Michael to go to the bathtub, he really really did. Michael wasn’t having it. Chicken was safely tucked in the bathtub but Michael refused to go. Michael stayed firmly by his side. The Warden was obviously wary of the toddler, unable to get any closer than a few feet before Michael started growling. The Warden just dropped the food and a healing potion on the dresser and left.

The next day, Dream got the backpack packed up. He hid the healing potion, the regen having given him just enough to get through to the next day without it. Again, the Warden came by, again, Michael refused to leave. Another healing potion was dropped off. Perfect.

That night, Dream took out the bottom drawer of the dresser and splintered it. He got enough wood to make a big stake. Not a perfect weapon by any mean, but good enough for what he was planning. The weakness potion the Warden had given them all those months ago was retrieved. Back when he could still safely shift, Dream had mixed it with a bit of his breath in hopes of strengthening it’s effects. The potion certainly seemed more potent, particularly after having been left to age.

With a whispered prayer to nobody in particular, Dream poured the potion over the wood and let it sink in. Hopefully it would be enough.

Finally, Michael.

“Buddy, hey, I need you to listen to me.” Michael already looked defiant, Dream was going to need to win him over. Alright. Cards on the table here.”

“Michael, it’s time to leave.” Now that got the baby piglin’s attention. Good. “I’m going to have to kill the Warden for us to get out though, and I need you to be ready to run. I need you in the bathroom, with our backpack and your shoes on. When I call for you, then you run. But you have to stay there until then, okay?”

As much as the piglin was clearly not fond of the idea, he nodded, and that was all Dream needed.

Two hours to go, Dream got Michael set up in the bathroom. It was earlier than usual, but he could never be sure when the Warden would come by. Then he got himself situated. He covered his clothing in the soot he’d saved, he hide the stake under the sheets and pulled on the shoes he’d made.

When he heard the footsteps coming down the hallway, he chugged the two healing potions and took a risk.

His body was far too sick to manage a full shift, he knew that much, but with two healing potions running in him, he could manage a partial shift. Just enough to give him his claws and a bit of extra muscle. Taking a deep breath in, he laid himself out on the mattress and waited.

When the Warden entered, he knew something was wrong. Dream did his best to appear out of it, and with Michael no where in sight, not to mention Dream’s ever present mask askew, it was impossible for the Warden not to investigate.

The Warden had grown so used to Dream’s sickly state that he didn’t question it as he moved across the room. He even vanished his weapon into his inventory as he opened his mouth to-

Before the Warden could say anything, Dream reared up and with all the strength he could muster, thrust the stake into one of the Warden’s exposed eyes. The harming and weakness magic flared to life, and the Warden couldn’t react quickly enough to stop him.

Dream heard his scream as if it were far away, it wasn’t important right now.

The layout outside was unfamiliar to him, but he followed scuffs and dusty footprints down from their cell to a main area. Michael seemed to recognize it, quickly signing

“Michael! Now!” A little pink blur followed him as Dream darted out of the room. The Warden hadn’t even closed the door in his rush. Dream grabbed the backpack from Michael as he slammed the cell door shut and flipped the lock. The Warden was screaming but Dream couldn’t give a shit.

“Home-portal-nearby”

Perfect. Dream was incredibly glad the little piglin knew where the nether portal was since that saved them some time. He paused only when he saw Sam’s brewing station. He only had time to grab three potions, strength, fire res, and an extra regen, and then they had to move.

Grabbing Michael’s hand, Dream let the little piglin lead him to the nether portal. The purple glow had never been so beautiful. The two of them stepped forward into the swirling mass, and then-

They were out.

O