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Someone was in his room. At this point, Dream had just about mastered the art of waking up quickly, and keeping his eyes closed. It gave him such wonderful opportunities as this, hearing someone he didn’t recognise move around his room.
They were humming. That irritated him, actually, reigniting a spark of rage that had burned down to an ember while he’d been asleep. Mostly tuneless, absent minded humming, along with a gentle swishing as they moved around.
They paused. A small, excited, squeaking noise. A thud.
“…dammit…”
They were probably picking it up. Dream really hoped they hadn’t broken anything. No, actually, what did he care? If they were a spy sent by the Angel, he hoped they’d broken something. He’d get to complain to the emperor about his sloppy surveillance.
It didn’t sound like a spy though. It sounded like a child, judging by the pitch of the next mutter Dream didn’t quite catch, and the way they seemed to be bouncing around the room. More swishing. Something clinking, slightly. Hold on, they’d better not be taking anything.
“What- Fundy?”
Now that was Niki. He knew that voice. Fundy? He didn’t know who that was. Dream didn’t like it. Two strangers, in his room.
Fundy- apparently- seemed to freeze, and something hit the floor with a thump.
“Oh- hi!” He whisper-shouted, a mockery of trying not to wake the supposedly-sleeping prince. “Uh…”
“Explain. Or I’m telling Wilbur.”
“I- uh… was checking for weapons?”
Dream smiled coldly into his pillow. Fundy wouldn’t be having any luck there. He had two knives left, and one was under his pillow while the other was hidden in a book he’d ripped the pages out of during a particularly violent evening.
“Uh huh. Does Philza know? Or anyone?”
“No… but look! I found-“ Fundy quietened himself, continuing in a stage whisper. “-shiny things!”
Niki sighed.
“Put those back, Fundy, they’re his. You shouldn’t even be here, much less going through his personal things.”
Dream made a mental note that maybe Niki was alright.
“Now get out, I don’t like you being in here, even if he is asleep.”
He crossed out the mental note violently.
“But-“
“I don’t care. Get out, before I have to explain to the Angel why the monster his son is so fond of killed you.”
Dream swallowed hard. Monster. That was good, surely. At least someone around here was still scared of him. Still- he wasn’t sure he liked the way Niki said it.
Fundy made a disappointed noise, and there was the sound of someone scurrying around the room for a few minutes, probably returning everything he’d stolen. Dream could feel Niki’s eyes on him. He tried to roll over inconspicuously, just so he didn’t feel so exposed under her gaze.
“Is everything back where you found it?”
“Yep!”
“Good. Come on, you should still be asleep anyway. Do you want to go to Wilbur’s room?”
“No. I’m not five.”
Niki’s response was lost as she closed the door with a click.
For a long time, Dream didn’t move. He wanted to write it off, just another irritating, ridiculous thing the ridiculous people in this castle did. But…
Monster.
There was something in his throat. He hadn’t done what he’d done to be called a monster. He’d been called a murderer, a genius, a tyrant, a brutal king or a brilliant warrior, all to his face or behind his back. Just not that. That one… was new.
Slowly, after he was good and sure they were long gone, Dream sat up. A glance towards the curtains verified that Niki hadn’t been lying, it was still too early for anyone to reasonably be awake. All the better.
With cautious movements, he got to his feet, pulling on his cloak and taking stock of everything Fundy had moved. Oh.
The thing in his throat shifted a little, teetering on the edge of gratitude to Niki, no matter what she’d called him. Fundy had been touching his things, the few things he’d had on his person when he’d been captured. A brooch, a blunt dagger he carried for luck- useless, clearly- and the simple crown he wore in battle. No mask. He still hadn’t gotten that back.
Dream forced himself to move on, even if he grabbed the dagger first, tucking it safely into the belt of his tunic. Niki was just doing her job, making sure Fundy didn’t disturb anything. But he wasn’t sure he could have beared to have lost any of this.
Then, silent as he could make himself, Dream slipped out his door- still unlocked, that was generous of Niki- and found himself in the corridor.
On the surface, it was just a corridor. Rich carpet underfoot, ornate windows lining the walls on one side, paintings and heavy wooden doors on the other. But Dream couldn’t just see it like that. The darkness outside the windows was cover, the carpet could hide blood, or just his footsteps, and the painting’s eyes seemed to follow him. Always watching. They just couldn’t leave him alone, could they?
Dream stared at one for a long moment, some dramatically painted landscape of the view from the castle, looking all the more picturesque in the moonlight.
Pulling his knife out again, he walked over, and stabbed through the centre of the canvas. It was messy, and ripped around the blunt metal, but he managed to drag the knife down, tearing a jagged gash through the disgusting thing.
For a moment, he surveyed his work. That would do. For now, at least. The destruction felt good, like if he couldn’t tell someone else how to fight them, he could do it himself, from the inside.
Dream padded silently down the corridor, assured Niki and Fundy were long gone. He was alone. No one would disturb him now. Just him, alone in a castle, in the dead of night.
He used to do this. Back home. George would already be in his room, and they’d meet Sapnap halfway down the corridor. They’d climb the walls, sit on the roof, raid the pantry, and laugh.
That was what he wanted back. He didn’t want this, this fake family Techno had fallen for so easily. He wanted to go home. Where he belonged.
Still, it was nice here. Now. When there was no one around. Sort of beautiful, to be honest. Dream had spent so long strategising how to destroy this, he’d never quite considered who he was destroying. Not that that would change anything. No, as soon as he got home, he was going to burn this place to the ground.
But first, he had the whole night before him, and an empty castle.
Almost empty.
There was a flicker of movement, at the end of the corridor, and Dream pressed himself against the wall, breathing hard.
A second passed. Two. Three. He wondered if he’d imagined it. Surely not.
“Hello.”
The voice was barely above a whisper, a quiet breath that carried in the silence. Dream was frozen. Two children, in half as many hours, somewhere he really didn’t want them to be disturbing him. Still, the child carried on.
“I’m just heading to Theseus’s room. I’m invited, don’t worry.”
Dream wished he could say the same. Then again, Philza hadn’t exactly told him he couldn’t sneak around in the middle of the night.
“Who are you?”
A monster, apparently. That was really sticking with him, it seemed, a persistent itch in the back of his mind. Dream didn’t reply.
“I think you know me. Most people do.”
No. He didn’t know anyone. Techno probably would. Techno probably knew everyone in this castle on sight. Dream was getting carried away.
“Oh…” The child crept closer, his whispering voice turning curious. “You’re one of the Esempi princes, aren’t you? You’re not Wilbur, or Fundy, definitely not Tommy. Not Blade either, Ranboo already told me about him.”
So everyone knew everyone. Dream swallowed his bitterness, still standing with his back against a wall, hoping the kid would somehow just walk past him.
“Dream then. Am I right? I’m right. Wilbur told me about you. A lot of people tell me a lot of things. They think I’m not listening.”
Dream felt his lips part, then he pressed them together, mind still racing. A friend of Theseus’s. Not exactly a friend, but at least an acquaintance of nearly everyone else he knew of. A servant, maybe.
“…you’re right. What’s your name?”
He spoke in a murmur of his own, eyes tracking the dark shape creeping down the corridor, going still when they heard his voice.
“Tubbo. Nice to meet you, Dream.” Tubbo sounded like he was grinning, quietly contained glee in his voice. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Everyone’s talking about you and Blade.”
Of course they were. Dream sighed inwardly, stalling for time as he searched for something to say to this strange child.
“What are they saying?”
There was a note, just a playful twist of sardonic humour, the most Dream had heard from himself in a while. Tubbo chuckled back, the noise low and dangerous beyond his age.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He considered, for a moment, tilting his head from the shadows, then nodding. “I’ll trade you. What’s it like in Esempi?”
Smart kid. Dream sort of respected it. Of course, the way his night and captivity and life had been going, Tubbo was probably going to shove a knife in his gut as a final goodbye. But, with both of them hidden in shadows, it felt like the perfect time to strike some sort of deal.
“Hard to say. I haven’t seen much around here. It’s more organised, and not everyone knows each other. Bigger, too, but not so much nicer.”
It was strange, how easily the remarks came. Dream had to make sure to keep his voice a whisper, not wanting to disturb the silence still heavy around them, like a blanket of dust.
“We have more traditions, but less teamwork. There’s always new faces. It feels like home. I can always hear my friends laughing, even from the other side of the country.”
Something felt so odd about this, laying out his every secret, his last ties to his home, for this strange child in the middle of a darkened corridor. Dream carried on, after a moment to breathe.
“But it’s a lot like here. We all just want to be safe. And we care about family, just like you.”
He doubted he’d be so magnanimous n the morning. But there was something electric in this, slicing out thin strips of his heart to be examined in the moonlight, something dreamlike about this strange encounter.
Tubbo didn’t reply for a moment. Dream wondered if he’d vanished, stolen away back into the shadows while the elder was distracted. But no, the shadowy silhouette was still there.
“Ok. Not bad. I’ll bear it in mind. You wanted to hear what people said about you?”
Tubbo dared to creep closer, and Dream didn’t take a step away. Just nodded, and spoke barely above a breath.
“Yes, please.”
“Tommy says you’re scary.” Tubbo didn’t hesitate, didn’t stutter. Just spoke in that same slightly frank, whispering tone, matter of fact and assured. “He thinks there’s something weird about you. Niki hates you. Wilbur wants to understand you, but he didn’t tell me that. Phil thinks he can fix you. I don’t think you need fixing. Boo says you’re all Techno talks about.”
Then he was done, this strange little child who’d rattled off a list of other people’s opinions like he was reading off a census. Dream smiled to himself, turning it all over in his mind. Nothing he particularly didn’t know. Theseus thought he was scary, which was nice.
“Hm. Alright. Thank you, Tubbo.”
“No problem, bossman. See you around!”
Tubbo hurried off, a blur past him in the corridor. For half a moment, the moonlight silhouetted him perfectly, and Dream couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows. Horns. A sheep hybrid.
He only knew one other, his Captain, back home. Just another reminder of what he was going to get back.
Dream realised he hadn’t said goodbye. He wasn’t even sure if he’d recognise Tubbo, in the daylight. Well, he’d probably never see the kid again.
Turning away slowly, he crept back out into the hallway, and carried on walking.
How long was this corridor? Maybe he could keep walking forever, until he made it out or just somewhere he never had to see any of these people again.
Or maybe he’d keep meeting people, new people fading into old, until he couldn’t tell reality from dreams. That had happened before. A few times, when he was a child. It was why Techno was his general, would always be a general, because he was the only one that could tell him what was happening was real.
Dream came to a junction, and stopped dead. Back home, their layout was different. Simpler. Here, the corridors seemed to ramble on forever, with nothing clearly marked, all steeped in trophies and oil paintings of random, war torn scenes.
Shrugging, he went left. It wouldn’t matter. The knife slipped back into his hand, like it belonged there, looking for the next thing to break. He passed a mirror, and dragged the metal alone the reflective surface, gouging a deep scratch across the pane. It felt good, watching the thin line slice his dim reflection in half.
There was something strange, about the twilight. Dream knew that if he’d been in quite his right mind, if his actions had been picked out by the light of day, he’d be being more cautious. Keeping to himself, finding a corner to plot in. Hiding from consequences, trying to keep this limbo going so he didn’t have to choose anything here.
But, as it was, everything he did seemed muffled by dappled light and a so-slowly rising sun. Nothing was real. None of this would matter. He was a ghost, wandering a castle he was never meant to be in.
Another turn. Another one he didn’t think about. It would have scared him, how easily he’d stopped caring about control, if any of it seemed to matter.
Because nothing mattered here. Even if he was in control, it all felt like a game, interrogations in a child’s library, fighting with a prince for no reason at all. Dream heard a laugh slip out, slitting the throat of the silence trying so hard to conceal his actions before he pressed his hands over his mouth to muffle himself.
Still, he carried on laughing, footsteps seeming to echo as he carried on down the carpeted corridor. It was funny. Hilarious. They were just children, all of them, why did any of them think they could do anything? Nothing they did seemed to matter.
This place was doing something to him. He didn’t trust anyone, he didn’t even trust Techno, he hated Techno, he needed to get out. He wanted to go home, because he was just a scared child, really, and he didn’t like new places. He didn’t like new anything. He just wanted his friends back, his home back, be back somewhere where things made sense.
Dream had to move his hand pressed over his mouth to wipe his eyes, because he wasn’t crying, but he couldn’t breathe either, and that was making his eyes water. He didn’t know where he was going anymore, because he didn’t know anything, he was just turning wildly at every junction, maybe he was lost, maybe he’d just disappear in this castle and he’d never have to see any of these people again. He must be going in circles. He was going in circles, spiralling downwards until he’d lost sight of who he’d been.
One last turn, and he was in some sort of room, no more doors, the end of the line. Dream froze for a moment in the centre, dragging his hand down his face to try to wipe away every trace of weakness on his skin.
Windows. Lots of windows, lining the outside wall in a smooth curve. He must be in some sort of tower. Nowhere else to go. And- desks, not many, just three or four, in the centre of the room. Bookshelves on the side he’d come in from. Planters under the windows. A chalkboard, sitting just to his right, a piece of chalk sitting in the tray along the bottom.
Dream blinked, slowly, hysteria rising and falling in his throat. None of this was real. Because he’d had rooms like this, not quite as open, not quite as welcoming, but rooms lined with books and maps, where he and Techno and George and Callahan had grown up, avoiding work where they could, which was always, because they were being raised to rule the world.
There was a small heap of pillows tucked against the wall, and Dream was collapsing into it before he really thought about it, biting his nails desperately. This couldn’t be real. They were kids, really, just scared children who still didn’t understand the world. He definitely didn’t.
He didn’t understand anything, really. Even as he turned his dagger over and over, feeling the nick where he’d been pretending to fight Sapnap and accidentally stabbed the wall, the handle Alyssa had carved for him when they were little. He missed his friends.
Dream let out a quiet, hollow sob, confident in his isolation. No one would find him here. Not as he curled up in the pile, dagger held tight, not as he let his memories of home wash over him in endless, drowning waves.
Not even as he fell asleep, hoping silently he’d wake up, and this really would have all been a dream.
——————
A boot nudged his side, not quite gently, but not with any actual intent to cause harm. Still, it woke him up, and Dream mumbled something about talking to Techno instead.
“Ugh. Wil! Found him.”
There was such venom in the him that Dream was certain she’d meant to say it. She? Niki. Whoever Niki was. He was pretty confused by everything. It didn’t matter. None of this mattered. He giggled softly.
“Oh, joy, he’s actually insane. Come on, mein verrückter Prinz, come collect your…” She kicked him again, sniffing in disdain. “Hund.”
That wasn’t a language he recognised. Strange, given he’d had more of a knack for languages than Techno. Where was Techno, anyway?
There was no sound of approaching footsteps, but Niki took a step backwards, and Dream felt some other presence in the room too. Then he spoke, and Dream felt every part of himself tense.
“Oh- thank you, Niki. Much appreciated.”
Niki hummed, unconvinced that Wilbur’s thanks made any of this worth it.
“Am I dismissed?”
“If you want to be.”
Cryptic as ever. Dream curled up a little tighter, aware of the ache in his muscles, and the fact that whatever he was sleeping on was decidedly not a bed. Wilbur was crouching beside him now, he was sure.
“Heya, Dreamie. Niki found you, isn’t she nice? And she told me about Fundy going through your stuff, so you don’t need to worry about that anymore.”
It was too bright. It felt like there was light everywhere. Dream turned over, waving Wilbur away vaguely and mumbling something even he didn’t understand.
“Are you sure you will be safe with him, my Prince?”
Niki’s voice was too stiff, discomfort evident in her every word.
“Talk to me like what I am to you and maybe I’ll listen~”
“Friends. We’re friends.”
“Sure.”
Wilbur said it magnanimously, an easy allowance to a peasant. Niki huffed, dropping her composure in a heartbeat.
“Wil, I don’t like you being near him.”
“Well, I like being near him.” Despite his promise to listen to Niki, Wilbur parried her argument without hesitation, matter of fact to the point of being irritating. “It’s been ages since I found someone this like me.”
“He’s dangerous.”
“He’s interesting.”
Niki apparently had the patience of a saint, because she just sighed heavily, paused for a moment to think, then spoke bluntly.
“I can’t let him hurt you.”
“And he won’t. Phil promised them, and so did I. Neither of them are allowed to hurt themselves, and hurting me would hurt him.”
Dream had many questions regarding that logic, but he swallowed them in favour of quietly seething at Wilbur. For no particular reason, either, just pure frustration and emotions spilling over.
“That… you know that doesn’t make sense.” Niki’s voice had a certain edge of exasperated acceptance that suggested she was on the verge of giving in. “Fine. But I’m staying here. I don’t trust him.”
“Nor should you. You don’t trust me, do you?”
Dream could practically hear the look Niki gave Wilbur.
“Prince Wilbur, I trust you because it’s my job to trust you, and somehow you haven’t gotten me killed so far. But, on a personal level…” Niki sighed, sounding exhausted already. “No. I don’t trust you.”
“Wonderful. Continue to not trust either of us, it’ll keep you safe.”
Niki had no response to that, it seemed. Wilbur giggled, tapping Dream’s temple like that was a remotely normal way to wake someone up.
“Dreamie, darling, I’m sure you’re awake.”
“He’s what?”
“Shush. Sorry. But- shush.” Wilbur turned from Dream to Niki, then back again, nails digging into his shoulder. “Come on, wake up, unless you’re dead. Are you dead, darling?”
“Ugh- sadly, no.” Dream could hear his own voice, slightly hoarse, a little more casual than he was comfortable with. “And stop touching me.”
Wilbur moved his hand away immediately, probably shooting Niki a smug look that resulted in her sigh a moment later.
Dream, having truly given in now, sat up, expression unreadable and staring into Wilbur’s bright eyes.
“Good morning.”
“Morning! You fell asleep in our classroom, in case you didn’t know, which is adorable-“
Dream punched Wilbur. Nothing fancy, no right hooks, just a solid punch aiming for his face. The brunette caught it millimetres away from his nose, and Niki sucked in a sharp breath, taking a step towards them before Wilbur held up his hand.
“No. He’s angry, aren’t you, darling? I’d love to know why.”
“Wil, I can’t-“
“Yes, you can. Look, you want me to be safe?”
Wilbur grabbed the blunt dagger out of his lap, and handed it to Niki without taking his eyes off Dream, who tried not to let its loss show.
“…I want that back.”
His voice was even, and Wilbur grinned, actually giddy with excitement
“Of course. I wouldn’t dream of taking anything else from you. Now come on, darling, try to do some damage this time.”
Dream wrenched his fist out of Wilbur’s hand, and swung again, only to have to drop back and defend as the brunette somehow moved faster, grabbing his hair and forcing him into the pillows.
Niki made an audible noise that sounded like a muffled scream of frustration, but Dream was busy being suffocated, and abruptly switching from any kind of blows to merely grappling. He got onto his back, although his shoulder hurt like a bitch, and kneed Wilbur hard enough in the stomach to knock him off.
The Antarctic prince tried to pin his legs, but Dream kept kicking, rolling over slightly to try to scratch Wilbur or something, he didn’t care, because it felt good to be fighting. It felt like he was fighting for something, even if it was just the satisfaction of saying he’d beaten someone, and even more so if it was Wilbur.
At some point, he met Wilbur’s eyes, and was struck by how human he looked. Wild, determined, looking like he was having the time of his life. Dream had a horrible feeling he looked the same.
Swinging his leg over the Antarctic prince, Dream pulled his arm back, and got one good punch in before Wilbur’s claws raked bloody lines down his cheeks, and he felt strong hands under his arms, pulling him back with maximum disgust and dumping him on the stone floor.
“Absolutely not.” Niki kicked him, hard this time, glaring between the two of them. “Are you ok, Prince Wilbur?”
Dream stared at Niki in unrestrained disbelief. Guards didn’t touch him. They definitely didn’t throw him on the floor like he was nothing. With one hand over his eye, Wilbur grinned, and nodded.
“Oh yes. Very ok. Dreamie?”
Dream was still slightly beside himself with outrage when Niki kicked him again, right in his side, hissing with all the anger in her heart.
“Answer him. I shouldn’t have let you even touch him.”
In fairness to him, Wilbur had definitely touched him first. Who threw the first punch was another matter, but Wilbur had started to actual fight too.
Dream’s chest ached as he struggled for air, his anger stuttering out into an exhausted kind of satisfaction. Ignoring the pain in his side, he lay on his back, staring at the high ceiling and taking deep breaths.
“Yeah. I’m alright.”
A large part of him wanted to ask Wilbur if Niki was allowed to do that, but he wasn’t quite sure how to phrase the question without giving the brunette the satisfaction of getting to help him. Wilbur’s eyes lingered on him for a moment anyway, and Dream once again had the unsettling feeling that he could read minds.
“Please don’t touch him again, Niki.”
“He was hurting you, Wil-“
“Yes, and that’s what I wanted him to do. Don’t touch him.”
Niki huffed, shooting Dream a scathing glare the likes of which he’d rarely experienced.
“Fine. But I won’t let him hurt you either. He’s dangerous, Wil, I don’t know why you let him get close.”
Wilbur just chuckled, moving his hand away from his face to reveal a blossoming black eye. Dream unconsciously reached up to wipe away the blood from his own face, sticky in the scratches left by Wilbur’s nails. He had a feeling he just smeared it across his cheek, to be honest. Like last time, it felt like all his emotions had fled, leaving just a humming sort of triumph.
“Good question. I’d say it’s because he’s scared. And his kind of anger is so rare around here.”
“I’m still here, you know.”
Dream spoke through gritted teeth, sitting up despite the ache in his stomach, the stone floor of what he was realising was a conservatory turned schoolroom digging into his palms.
“Shut up.”
“Careful, Niki.” There was a light warning in Wilbur’s tone, just the slightest edge of superiority he hadn’t had before. “He’s still a prince, and a prisoner of war at that. Don’t be rash now.”
Niki scowled. Wilbur smirked, shooting Dream a look like they were on the inside of the same joke. It was making him uneasy, the brunette’s thinly veiled cruelty to someone he’d called a friend.
“Feeling better?”
The same thing he’d asked last time. Only, it was different now. Dream hated that it was different, because that proved something here was changing him. He knew Wilbur now. He knew the calculation behind the question, the endless categorisation and games playing out in his mind. He knew, because the same thing happened in his.
“As ever, you fight like a street cat.” Dream sniffed, pulling himself to his feet using a desk. “But yes. Somewhat.”
“Ooh, look at you.” Wilbur clapped, standing up without the help of Niki’s outstretched hand. “Someone’s found his fire again, darling.”
Dream levelled the coldest glare he could manage at Wilbur, confidence settling in his chest. His lips pulled into a cold smile as he studied the Antarctic prince, for the first time, like a real opponent.
“I’d say so. Where’s yours? Or is all you have games?”
“Oh, I’ve got far more than that, darling.”
Dream just nodded, filing the information. He owed Wilbur. They both knew it.
Good thing the Antarctic prince still had a place in the plan forming in his mind.
Gods, it felt good to have a plan again.