Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The moment the sky opened everyone felt it.

Like lightning coursing through the earth, a booming crack echoed across the land as if the end of the days was coming. Those who looked outside could see the day darken fast, purple clouds and mist circling a beacon of light. It came from a great crater, what was once a great nation to ones, a parasite to others. No matter which of the two, the hole that was meant to be and remain empty through the foreseeable future was alight with supernatural energy, and everyone knew that something wrong was happening.

So they followed the light.

“Please, I don't understand it well myself!” Ranboo raised his arms, attempting to make themself as small as their long and thin legs allowed them. It wasn't really helping them much.

“Explain.” Sam, The Warden, took a step forward, trident in hand, making him as menacing as possible with his full attire and mask in place.

He in turn took a step to block his path to the frightened enderling, more on instincts than in a conscious choice. Ranboo still gave him a grateful and nervous smile, they didn't know where that behavior came from after all.

The Warden stared at him and he feels his face contour in an aggressive snarl, his eyes challenging to try . Sam retreated and he felt Philza’s arm around his own, a silent ‘don’t’.

He retreats reluctantly.

“Why were you there?!” Tommy jumped next to the tall teenager, gesticulating wildly with his arms to the vague direction of where Lmamburg used to be. “Why?! How?! Did you know that Dream came back?!”

He could see everyone in the room looking at each other, bewildered eyes roaming amongst temporary allies since, well .

A rift was opened in the sky. And the culprit was an entity that everyone both knew and didn't. Afterall, most people know of DreamXD by name, but few know them personally. The elusive god, Guardian of the End, was something of an enigma to most people, of his powers and his ‘peculiar’ resemblance to a particular member of the server.

That member has been missing for almost a year since his daring escape from Pandora's Box. No one knew where he went, where he was. Not The Warden, whose failure was quickly followed by a search party formed from the most concerned with ‘security’ and ‘peace’ that apparently when as far as their maps reached. Not the common people, some of them gearing up to wait the eventual confrontation, listening intently for any scrapt of information that came each day. Not the ones who helped him escape, the last of them that saw him…

Technoblade takes a deep breath.

He shouldn't have closed the door.

“Bossman!” Tubbo made a beeline to the still stressed enderling and hugged them tightly, lifting them up in the air in an impressive show of strength for such a short boy. At least the people around them decided to concede a break for the married couple.

Ranboo had died after all. They came back, was revived.

Technoblade takes another deep breath. The arm hooked with his own tightened.

“I’m so glad that you're back!” The ram placed the enderling on the ground, squeezing them a final time, making them squeak not unlike a dog toy. “But seriously, what happened? Did you just get revived?”

Ranboo takes a deep breath, their face full of shame and regret. He drags a hand through his black and white locks, negative color strands on the wrong side of the chromatic balance. “No, I was revived some days after dying.”

He can see how everyone in the room looks at them, to pry for an explanation of what they see as a betrayal. And Ranboo, in a burst of braveness powers on, with the confidence of a man who has died and wasn't impressed with the results.

“Dream revived me with the help of DreamXD. They're working together, as, well, you know.”

All the people present in the room went out to investigate the lights in the sky, reuniting accidentally on the place where Doom’s Day occurred not long ago, the victims and the perpetrators minus one. On normal days everyone would be at each other's throats for the transgressions committed that day, but all that seemed less important went a tear in space and reality was being opened before their very eyes. And more with the scene unfolding before them.

That enigmatic god was in the air, purple energy coursing through his body as if his very bones were power. His hands, big and white with a gradient fading to his warm skin, were plunged in the rift and opening it like he was tearing cloth, the sound not unlike the explosion that desecrated the place below. He was laughing, maniacally so, apparently lost in bliss and happiness.

At the base, where the beacon of light originated from where three people. Next to them there was an arrangement of ender crystals that were behaving weirdly, floating in an erratic way and proyecting a beam of light that was capable of burning. Next to each ender crystal were endermen, as supervisor or protectors, who's to say?

The most shocking part was the three men inside the array, one with a book in his hand floating slightly above, open and pages flying wildly among runes and letters. He was talking, his voice both booming and intelligible, his words traveling the air as if they were a physical entity. He was being supported by the other man, steady hands on his shoulders. The other was far from them, but still inside the strange contraption.

He felt how at the moment his lips moved, forming a name, but unable to say it.

He didn't feel like he had the right.

“So you were working with them?” Sapnap was angry. That seemed to always be his natural state, but it was clear it was his way to mask how lost he was, his eyes wandering to George at his right and Karl at his left.

“Yeah.” Ranboo straightened a little, showing a little confidence in his words, looking around him not longer to appease but sizing everyone up, looking for threats. “He helped me, both of them. Not only with my, uh, death. My memory issues are gone.”

A beat. “That's great!” Tubbo’s chirp made the enderling smile at his husband. “Wait, how's that possible?”

“That's not important.” Sam seems to be itching for action, but he remains in place, wisely. “Dream is a danger to this server, he needs to return to the prison.” He hits the ground with his trident, the sound echoing on the receiving hall of Pandora's Box.

They needed a place to meet and discuss things, and the community house still remained ruined.

 Technoblade remembers golden locks with white stripes, dirty and tangled.

He takes another breath.

“That's not going to be possible.” Ranboo argues, glancing shifty eyes searching for protection from the man that killed them. “If you have a complaint, argue with god, be my guest.”

He had tried to when they first saw Dream. His single minded focus reached the borderline obsessive behavior when he made a beeline to the man clearly in the middle of a ritual, the revive book on full display and emitting light like the ender crystals around it.

He didn't even take five steps when an otherworldly voice spoke.

“A new era has come!” DreamXD crackled with delight, ripping the tear in reality until it remained open on its own. The sound shocked the earth, making the people below except the two men on the middle brace for impact or lose their footing. Roars and screams could be heard from the hole, from the other side. “Look upon the birth of a new nation! My kingdom from beyond!”

The entity flew down, placing himself on the direct path of The Warden, clinging to his trident to remain upright. Sam was big, one of the biggest people on the server, and he was made small by the imposing figure before him. His halos, his height and his wings made him stand tall and dwarf the warrior as if he was but an infant.

He blocked anyone's line of sight with the unmasked fugate. The message was clear.

“Now. I have work to do, and my son and I would hate to be bothered by petty disputes. So.” He put a hand on Sam’s shoulder, talking sweetly like a caring grandfather. He couldn't fool no one when the creeper’s hybrid muffled a strangled cry as his hold cracked the shoulder pad like glass with minimal effort. “Come back another day, okay?”

No one dared to approach, the sensible thing was to retreat and discuss.

Sam was making a great effort to not show how his shoulder was dislocated. But everyone knew.

“What was that about Dream being his son?” Puffy blurted out of the blue. She was clearly transfixed on that fact the most.

“I don't know, they didn't explain it to me either. But he is, somehow.” Ranboo took a deep breath, exhaling heavily. “Look, I shouldn't even be here, I’m trying to warn you all.”

Confused noises passed among the people. It was clear everyone was in shock, still reeling from what happened outside. It’s no wonder that when everyone was trying to puzzle out what just happened, the appearance of the teenager thought to be dead surprised everyone.

“Wait, you can't stay?” Tubbo clinged to the enderling, desperately willing them to remain.

Ranboo did look ashamed of it. “I'm sorry. I know he won't hurt me but…” They looked eyes with the piglin for a second, and he felt a sinking feeling in his gut, bracing him for the worst. “DreamXD is very mad. With everyone.”

“But, we didn't do anything to him?” Nikki took a step forward. She had a pensive look on her face, analyzing the information on her head.

“No, but in his eyes you all hurt his son.”

A pin hitting the ground could be heard with the oppressive silence that their shock created. He could see confused faces, betrayal, hurt and shame mixed among the expressions.

He knows his own face shows his regret.

“I wasn't told what happened.” Ranboo picks up speed, sensing the mood change and trying to get the information out as soon as possible. “But apparently DreamXD was following Dream this whole time? He saw each infraction as an attack, and he really really cares about him, he’s always fussing about everything.”

“If he cared so much, why didn't he show up before?” Phil unhooked his arm with Technoblade’s, asking not unkindly. “Before, this.” He makes a gesture with his hands, pointing out the room. The prison.

Ranboo lowers their ears, looking briefly in the piglin’s direction. “He said that at the time Dream had people to rely on.”

He remembers scarred fingers clinging to charred wood. Cracked nails digging on the obsidian that became their temporary home. Calloused hands from a warrior trembling slightly from the cold despite the lava.

“They didn't tell me what changed, just that he was abandoned.”

He remembers snow, blood and rage. He remembers looking at the dead eyes of the teenager talking. He recalls his trembling hands, furios about the injustice of it all. Rage at the prison for trapping him for so long. Rage at The Warden that believed himself oh so noble for trapping a man like a monster and killing his help in cold blood. Rage at himself for not being strong enough to protect those who were his chosen people. Rage at the man that lived because another died in his place.

Rage at everything.

He remembers demanding armour back that he didn't need. He had plenty of resources to make more. But he still did, feeling the chill of the tundra on his fingers as he grasped for the metal.

He remembers a dirty orange prisoner jumpsuit standing out among the snow paradise. He remembers how his dirty hair still stood out on his mind, the strands of white only creating a more otherworldly appearance with his winged ears at the side of his head, his smooth tail with a tuft of fur at the end. He remembers thinking for a moment of how tired and hungry he looked before he recalled green and red dead eyes.

He can remember the sound of the door behind his back, blocking the cutting wind from entering his house. He didn't look to see if the man left his front porch, he didn't look to see him limp away. He didn't want to see the betrayed look in his eyes again. He only spared a last thought to the man that should have been with him, because they both lost someone that day.

‘I hope he gets frostbite.’

He closes his eyes in shame.

He remembers how two great warriors cuddled below a red fluffy cape for warmth. He tucked the smaller man under his arm, willing the world to become a little warmer for the man that suffered alone inside these four walls. His hair tickled his cheek, his breath giving him goosebumps on his deck. He remembers how Dream looked at him in wonder, like he hanged the sky and stars. He felt silly at the time.

He just feels hollow now.

Voices rise around him, he can hear George arguing his case, Dream was the one who abandoned them. He can hear Tommy screaming about the evil that is the blonde. He can hear Sam repeating his speech of ‘the good of the server’. He can hear Phil, trying to bring some sort of order to the discussion.

But he isn't listening.

He now feels the absence of his cape like an ache in his heart. He doesn't remember giving it to Dream, maybe that's why he didn't also ask for it back. The moment he realized he was already preparing to go to bed, so there was no point in dwelling on it. Now it's probably a pile of ashes.

He can see the face that Philza makes when he reaches for his pocket, retrieving a small wooden figure. A pig, minimalistic and amateurish, the wood has charred portions around his face. When he passes his thump above it he feels the cuts on the wood, sharp angles made by inexperienced and trembling hands with a dull rock. He remembers that there were seven attempts, and this one was the best of them all. When he touches the crooked snout he remembers a crooked smile, bashful but happy when he accepted the gift. Even with the exhaustion, the hunger, the scars, he remembers how brightly he shined. Despite everything, there was a man that knew how to smile behind the monster.

And he killed that man.

He could dress in riches few could ever know. He could drape himself on the most expensive of silks, soft cotton or cold metal and no one could do a thing about it. He burned that dirty jumpsuit the moment he could, burned the bandages that covered his injuries when they healed, burned everything that made him remember . He wanted to forget, he wanted to clean his skin raw from the months trapped in that box, peel his scars away as if they were stains on his flesh, to come out shiny and new, not broken. He wanted to forget .

But depth down he’s a liar, a coward, a man that can't let go of the things that burn him.

He presses the red cape against his cheek. It's dirty and it smells disgusting from sweat and blood, but he can't will himself to clean it. The material may become damaged, he doesn't know how to wash it carefully and he doesn't want to ask Punz to do it for him. He can't bear to… explain .

He can't. He doesn't know how to explain it to himself.

Despite being dirty the red color stands out as vividly as he remembers. The cape around his shoulders is put on him by gentle hands capable of breaking bone. Red blood eyes looking at him softly as if he was, for once, someone that deserved to be taken care of. A warm body against his own when the chill of the cell became too much. A warrior-

A warrior that turned his back at him.

He should burn this damned thing, he didn't want to remember.

When he knew that he couldn't stall any longer he folded the cape and placed it under his bed again.

He took a deep breath, DreamXD will call for him any moment. He can do this. He was once king of the DreamSMP, ruler of these lands. He knew how to lead, how to rule, he knew what the people wanted, what people expected of him.

Being Prince of the End wouldn't be so different.

Chapter Text

In a flash of white and purple, the lanky teenager was gone. There was a tense silence that no one seemed eager to break, because the moment someone did, hell would break loose. There were so many things to discuss and plan, they would probably need to stay the night here.

Shivers run down his back, he had enough with three months to last a lifetime, thank you very much.

Though the hall at least is nicer than the obsidian box.

“They looked different.”

“Uh?” Tommy turned his head to look at his friend, who had a deadpan stare.

“Ranboo. I dunno, they look… new?”

“... I guess??”

Now that he mentions it.

Ranboo from the start was a weird fellow. They were part enderman, that was clear, but the other part was always unclear, since they had characteristics that were all over the place, to being really decisive when determining the other half. And their memory issues weren't helping either.

They didn't have a mouth, for example. At least not visible, since when they talked or ate it opened, and disappeared moments after. They had a weird anatomy, from head to feet, hands, talons? Weird stuff, things neither him nor Phil had ever seen before. The tail wasn't really nothing to bring home to, a slender scaly tail with a tuft of hair at the end. The weirdest thing though were their ears, or well, whatever the hell were the things on their head. Instead of ordinary ears, or ears in general, they had little feathers coming from the side of their head, like crooked or broken wings. Phil always said that they freaked him out since it looked to him like deformed hatchling wings, ones that came out wrong and no one bothered to right to let them heal properly. Guess it was a hit too close to home with his burned wing.

The teenager that appeared before them was different, ‘new’. Somehow with only black and white skin they looked with more color, like they had seen some sun. Their hair that always seemed static, suspended in air, was fluffier, healthier, even the little tuft of hair on their tail. Their anatomy was more… standard, humanoid. They still had claws and those weird feet but mitigated, like an in-between. Their mouth was visible, barely there but he could see them emote properly. And the things on their head, those were wings, now grown and properly tended. They were very small, like baby wings, with white and black feathers that matched their whole monochromatic aesthetic, and the feathers traveled down their neck and fading to nothing before reaching the collar of their suit.

And now that he thinks long and hard about their appearance, especially those wings on their head…

It looked vaguely like Dream. And, likewise, like DreamXD.

…What the hell is going on.

Drama!

Glad to see someone is having fun, many thanks.

“This is pointless.” The Warden’s voice cuts his internal dialogue. It seems in the time that everyone was screaming at each other, passing the blame around while Ranboo tried to find a spot to flee, Puffy took pity on Sam’s arm and patched it up, putting it on a quick sling with some cloth she had. It looks bothersome and clancky, especially since the proud man refused to take his armor. “We’re talking and screaming but there's a criminal on the loose and we need to take him down.”

“That's the problem, smartass.” Sapnap raises his voice, hoarse from screaming before and ready to go for round two. “No one can do shit about it. You heard Ranboo, and you in particular got a taste of the consequences.”

“Sapnap is right.” Niki raises her arm, blocking the man that probably doubles her in size to stop the idiots from murdering each other. Since Ranboo spilled the beans with Dream’s state in prison Sapnap has been pretty snappish, which he can understand that it comes from guilt, Dream told him himself what was going on and he didn’t believe him. He understands. But he will let him drown in that guilt for all he cares, he could have visited him, investigated, hell, searched for him instead of stewing in his hurt ego. What an excuse for a friend.

Hypocrite, you could have searched for him too. 

Shut it.

“-we don't know what they're capable of, not only DreamXD but Dream as well.” He focuses on the conversation at hand. He can't afford to space out like that. “It seems they weren't joking about the kingdom so they must have soldiers, probably a proper army. And whatever was roaring through the portal, we can't fight them head on, put down the sword Tommy.”

“Come on!”

“Mate.” With a stern look in his direction the blond teenager lowers the sword. Which, ah. He forgot that Tommy after the confrontation hoarded Dream’s equipment as his own, armor, weapons and all. Looking at it, after seeing his state in prison makes him sick.

“No fighting. We can't win, period.” After Niki says that he can feel eyes on him. It makes sense, he’s arguably the best warrior in the room. If he agrees, it makes it clear that this is something that they can't win against with brute force. And he agrees, he’s not stupid. DreamXD alone could mangle his corpse and leave him unrecognizable, you can't win against a literal deity. Especially with an army and an unknown danger. That's suicide, plain and simple.

“Try to fight him, be my guest. Well try to peel your corpse from the ground after.” He smiles, feeling his joking tone a little more blunt than usual. When he feels the eyes leaving him, Phil takes a step closer to him and places his hand on his arm.

It feels cold, like death.

“If we can't take him by force then what? It doesn't seem he would respond well to ask him to return the prisoner.”

“That's not what we have to worry about, Sam.” Niki has been trying to be the voice of reason and be imparcial, in no one’s side, but she seems too to be at her wit's end dealing with these idiots. She places her hand on the bridge of her nose.

“Dream is free, what else could we worry about?”

“The rampaging god! Why are you so calm about a god going around like it's nothing? Especially one we don't know much about! I thought DreamXD’s name was just Ex-Dee. What?!” Jack, quite understandably, starts to freak out. “He broke Sam’s arm like it was a fucking twig! Dream can suck my ass, there's a god in the loose to worry about!”

Jack’s scream and Sam growls are starting to make his head hurt. A growl builds on his throat but he tries to reign it in, there's no point to fight, they need a solution. Plan now, blood later.

“Oh, they you are!” The warm voice makes everyone tense up. They all look at the source of the voice. At the entrance of the prison, the portal, comes BadBoyHalo, his hair a mess, his trousers torn to shreds and breathing a little heavily, like he just ran in here. He has a bag on his hands and a similarly exhausted AntFrost behind him with handfuls of fur torn off his legs and paws, holding something that he can't see from this angle. “I was looking for all of you, we were wondering where everyone went when that portal opened up.”

Apart from the obvious signs of disarray, he looks fine, better than, well. Since Dream escaped people were so concerned with finding him that other problems were put aside. The Egg, for instance, was just left there, growing in its cave. Bad and Ant seemed content with becoming hermits, even though Bad should have been on the search party, being a guard and all. In the end, just like Dream, people just did not see Bad or Ant at all.

Until now.

“Oh hey muffin-fucker.”

“Language. Anyway, look at this.” As nonchalantly as he corrects Tommy’s mouth he grabs the bag he was carrying and dumps its content's on the floor in front of everyone. It’s dirt. Just… dirt.

“... Ah?” Phil stays rooted in place, pleading with his eyes for Bad to elaborate.

“Wait, what's this?” Puffy takes a closer look, kneels before the dirt and picks a handful. Among the dirt she picks something small, inspecting it closely.

“Exactly, that. I don't know.”

“Bad, words. What's this?” Niki also takes a step, looking at whatever Puffy picked up from up her shoulder. “Uh.”

Now curious he marches to the pile of dirt. The people that have picked on his mood scramble from his path, making a hallway for him. He takes a handful of dirt and feels like some sort of shards inside. He picks one and inspects it.

It's really small, the size of seeds. They also look like seeds, but pointy and rocky. It has the texture of grainy pebbles, white with yellow accents. It looks like nothing he knows of, organic or inorganic. He takes a quick whiff, but it smells of nothing except dirt and grass. It oddly reminds him of bone shards, but this clearly is a rock and not some type of fossil.

“I, um.” Bad takes a gulp of air. His tail moves anxiously, and his body blocks Ant and whatever he’s holding. It seems deliberately. “The portal did something to The Egg. I don't think it's dead but, it did something to it and I can't hear it anymore. No one of us can.”

That's a relief, they already have enough problems as it is.

“But before the, connection? Was severed it led us to the portal. I guess to try to destroy it but, well. There were endermen everywhere, we could barely escape. But before we left The Egg instructed us to recollect, uh, data? Samples? Things around the portal. So, here.”

“Wait, this is dirt from near the portal?”

“Almost under it, yeah. I don't remember how we managed that. The dirt around the crater that remained from Lmamburg is the same as this as far as I know.”

“So there are tiny rocks growing on the dirt?” Puffy drops the dirt and rock shards on the ground, cleaning her hands as she thinks. “That's weird.”

“It's alarming.” Bad takes a step aside and Ant shows himself with a… sheep in his hands. At least what it used to be a sheep.

“What the fuck?!” Tommy and Tubbo shout, and he doesn't blame them. First of all, sheep don't have fangs, least of all fangs that fuse with their mouth like some type of monstrous reptile. Its eyes are purple, completely purple with no white in sight, just the black pupils and purple void. The wool seems to be growing bone shards like the dirt, but these shards are lilac, and seem to grow in a pattern, accumulating around its neck and base of the legs. The hooves look sharpened, like piglins feet, and the skin seems painted with blotches of black ink like a kid went to town with it.

Phil looks disturbed, but not surprised.

The rest scream.

Can I pet that dawg?

“Wait wait wait! The portal corrupts the environment?!”

It seems people are not so concerned about Dream being free anymore.

“How are you holding out, mate?” 

After the revelation that the portal that god created was more dangerous than it seemed in the first place it was impossible for order to reign in. Nikki, Puffy and even Phil got sore throats from screaming at everyone to calm down, but to no avail. It was clear they had to talk about this tomorrow.

Sam looked like he sucked on a lemon, but he offered the prison’s hall for everyone to sleep since it was already pretty late, and he said that danger could lurk near now that Dream is free. It was clear it was a tactic to feel reliable, but poorly done. The only saving grace was Bad vouching for him, who was a little more warm, though everyone knows about his egg’s business. But it really seems like these are strange times and they have to work together for the time being.

Unfortunately.

Some people took Sam’s offer to stay in the prison for protection in the fortress and in numbers. Others, like him, said fuck that noise, he has enough nightmares as it is, he want to sleep and actually rest. Tommy dragged Tubbo out of there the first chance he got, loudly declaring that tomorrow they would hatch a plan that would solve their problems and put Dream back where he belongs.

He makes no comment, he can punch his pillow later.

The moment that thought crossed his mind he turned around, looking for Phil to get out of here. At that moment he crossed eyes with Puffy, who probably had the same idea to just leave as soon as possible. Something flashed through her eyes, and the next thing he knows she circles her arm around his and drags him across the room. She's tall for the ladies in the server, but that means nothing compared to him. But she's strong, or stubborn enough, to drag him. Just like a certain blonde.

Focus, bed first.

Puffy finds Phil among the crowd, talking briefly with Bad. He reaches to hear about his concerns with the shards on the dirt and the monster sheep, eating some hay Ant provided, before they reach him. Just like Techno, the elder gets trapped from the arm by Puffy and dragged across the room, input disregarded. Bad gives them farewell like everything is alright, both men giving each other looks above Puffy’s wooly hair, though Phil has to tiptoe to be able to look at Techno properly.

“Niki!” They both get dragged before a barely-holding-it-back baker, who tries to smile when her name gets called but looks to be half baked. Once she sees who calls her she drops the smile, not trying to hide how weary she feels from trying to reign the previous conversation.

“Hi. Sorry for yelling earlier but, ugh.”

“Tell me about it.” The women don't even acknowledge the fact that the piglin and elytrian are just there, hostage, to whatever is happening. “Do you have plans for later?”

“Planting face first into bed, why?”

Puffy steels herself, looking behind her back briefly. Both Sam and Bad are helping the ones who agreed to stay here with accommodations, and the ones who were against staying are already gone.

“I don't want to stay here but it's true that no place is truly safe now. Not with… everything going on. Do you wanna stay at my place? At least for tonight?”

“Does the proposal extend to us too?” Both women turn to look at the elder, who smiles calmly while trying to get his arm back. There's no budging.

“Of course, strength in numbers.”

“This is the weirdest kidnapping I have been part of.” Chat seems to agree.

Niki smiles, sighing heavily.

“Yeah, I prefer your house to this cursed place.”

This is how the four of them huddled inside Puffy's home, which resembles the flower shop both women had, but smaller. Technoblade is not… great with words, especially with emotional words, it's easier to joke around and let the meaning just, slip out. He knows there's history around both women, for how tense both are in the presence of one another, but staying near each other. Phil gives him knowing looks, but no, Phil, he doesn't know shit. He never asked Niki, he never thought to, her problems and secrets are her own, she knows better if she wants to share them with the syndicate.

Apart from that , Puffy left them on the sofa with tea for both of them while she and Niki retrieve mattresses and blankets, since the baker knows her way around the house and both men are considered ‘guests’.

Whatever that means.

Wait, Philza said something to him, right?

“Huh?”

Phil rolls his eyes, but sits closer to him, putting his hand on his knee, something to calm him down. “I said, how are you holding out, mate?”

“Ah! Good good. It's all good. Yeah it's-” As que talks he brushes his hand against his trousers, as if trying to smooth them out. He feels a bump on his pocket and he knows what's in there, he can feel the charred wood under his finger just thinking about it. His breath hitches for a second from the remainder of- of-

But he takes a deep breath.

“Mate-”

“It's kinda chilly, isn't it?” He removes his hand from his pocket and grabs the hot tea mug with both, letting the heat seep in. He grabs it tightly. It hurts a little. It's grounding.

A black wing circles his back, drawing him closer to the elder. 

“Maybe if you picked a new cape you would be less chilly.”

True, but he doesn't want to. It doesn't feel right to just replace it when… well, Dream probably burned it already, but…

It doesn't feel right.

“Tech-”

“I don't want to talk about it. Not now.”

Phil doesn't look happy, but he concedes, just holding him for the moment. He feels hollow from the experience, with everything. After the shock now he has time to think . The prison, the people that tried to kill him and Dream, Dream, all of it . He was such an idiot, he could have searched for him, he’s a man of action. He didn't wait, why did he wait now? With this? Was he still mad, deep inside? Was that why he just… abandoned him? Left him for dead?

He's an idiot.

“Okay, here take this.” The moment the wing leaves his back is when he notices the women have come back. They easily move the table and sofas aside, leaving only the tiny couch that Techno and Phil were sharing, and put the mattresses in the middle of the room. With Phil’s help they arrange the blanket and pillows. He should probably help but… getting up seems pretty hard right now.

“Many thanks, but we don't need so much space for just the two of us.”

“Oh no, we’re all sleeping here.”

“Pardon?”

That gets a little snort from Techno, who finally gets up. He should deal with this, there's no point in feeling bad right now.

Not with public.

“You dragged us all to your house to plan, right?”

Puffy smiles, big and warm and deceiving all at once. She's Dream’s mother afterall. It feels like a trap, an emotional one. The resemblance, the memory that she casts.

Everything feels like a memory.

“I know you, Phil and Ranboo got Dream out of prison, and I have a suspicion that Niki was helping you.”

“Okay. So?”

“So, you are the last that saw Dream before today.”

Phil takes a step to block Technoblade from view as well as he can, just in time to hide his face. She said it so nonchalantly, which is fair, she probably wants answers, but it's too raw for him. He doesn't cry, but Prime he wants to. His eyes hurt, his head hurts.

“We were, yeah, about a year ago.” Phil talks for him, which he’s grateful for. Doesn't stop him from feeling guilty.

“Oh.” Puffy probably senses the change in ambience. He can see from the corner of his eyes Niki giving him a sad look. He feels worse now.

He takes a deep breath, clenching his jaw. He needs to focus. Focus .

“Why do you ask?” His throat feels hoarse, but he powers through. He places himself at Phil’s side, not hiding anymore. Focus .

“I…” Puffy deflates, sitting down on the mattress with all her weight and bouncing a little. She massages her head with both hands, sinking in her wool-like hair.

The syndicate sits down with her.

“I guess I just wanted to confirm. What Ranboo said about what happened in the prison and… Prime, he had so many scars .”

When everyone saw Dream on that weird pedestal under the portal, he was wearing weird clothes, very revealing with ribbons, frills and flowy things that he probably wouldn't be caught dead wearing before. It left nothing to the imagination, and didn't look comfortable. But it was revealing, showing almost all his body beside the chest and legs. Each scar was visible, each burn, each lash, each cut, each abuse he suffered while in the Warden's care. Is why Sapnap demanded to know what happened, there was no denying that he was hurt, tortured. Surprisingly Sam didn't drop Quackity under the bus, keeping his name out of the discussion. He was tempted to spill the beans, but he felt… ugh.

He knows the scars, has seen pretty much all of them. There's no modesty in a tiny box, Dream has seen him as well, no biggie. He even felt some of them when he was trying to cheer him out, letting him in turn feel his. Trying to get his mind out of it with his stories of each scar. Hell, he even told him about the embarrassing scar he got on his leg.

“No way!”

“Don't look at me like that! I was impressed, man.” He had to control his voice, Dream’s laugh was always contagious. “You can just flip in the air with two swords and make it look easy. I had to try.”

“You can't just go from zero straight to backflips with swords , Techno!”

“I know that now .” It's not a big scar, the size of a finger. It would probably fade in one more year or less, but it made Dream laugh, so it was worth it.

He's slipping again. He can't keep focused for some reason.

“I should have been there, I should have. Been. There .” Puffy seems to also be losing it a little, beginning to ramble. “I’m his mother . I don't regret helping the kids but I should have also helped my kid ! I didn't even visit!”

“Puffy, you did what you coul-”

“No, Niki! I didn't! I just believed what everyone thought of him, what he thought of himself! I should know better!” Puffy grabs a fistful of her hair and pulls at it. He remembers Dream doing the same when he got stressed.

“We both made mistakes.” Puffy raises her eyes to look at Technoblade. He grabs her hands, he knows when the blonde got really vicious he would rip strands of hair. It didn't help that his hair became brittle from lack of care and starvation, so maybe he didn't have to worry so much, but the mirror image isn't helping his own nerves.

Like mother, like son, uh?

“Now we… have to amend. Somehow.” He drops her hands awkwardly when she stops gripping her hair so tightly. He feels even more aware of his own volatile feelings for a moment, the way his sorrow and guilt could rip him in two from the inside out. But feelings don't matter right now, they're not helpful.

“I… yeah. Even if he, um. Even if he hates me now.” Puffy takes a deep breath, willing herself not to cry. “Even if he doesn't want to be my son anymore, I have to right what is wrong.”

Niki cofs, receiving everyone's attention. She looks perturbed, but nonetheless sympathetic. “What’s important right now is the whole ‘DreamXD being mad at us’ thing. He's dangerous and we can't fight back.”

“That's right.” Phil speaks, looking relieved by leaving the heavy topic behind. “He also mentioned building a ‘kingdom from beyond’, whatever that means. If he plans to bring all the endermen from that portal, we could have problems. Especially with the thing that roared from it. And whatever is going on with that ‘infection’.”

Puffy and Techno share a heavy look, deciding to leave the talk they wanted for later. This was important.

“Phil, you're the one who knows most about gods and The End, any info?”

The elder removes his hat, making himself comfortable. Oh boy, this is going to be long.

It's weird looking around. The work in progress, the people talking and walking, bringing construction materials, tools and whatnot around. In the past he laid this place to rubble, with the intention of nothing ever growing here ever again. But now this is the place where it begins anew, a new nation. Ironic, if a little funny.

He walks amongst the foundations of a new castle, from which he is prince. Literal foundations, it's only day one since they claimed this place fully, before only bringing the necessary materials needed to open the portal to avoid raising suspicion in the span of several months. Now a monumental work force of several endermen are running around, bringing what's needed, teleporting when needed and working together to drag the heavier items. They work like an ant hive, coordinated, efficient, trained for the work. They are useless using tools, though. That's going to be a problem soon.

He can't stand how the endermen stop whatever they are doing when he passes by and bow. He made Eret king that one time to avoid this type of shit. And George was better with the indifferent face of a monarch, like he was above everything, ignoring everything. He can't stop to think if his mouth looks weird, if he's smiling too little, or not at all. Does he even have to smile? And he can't feel the right corner of his lip, damn the fucking scar. It could be twitching again for all he knows. How did George manage this shit?

He misses his mask. But that was from the Dream from the DreamSMP. He's not that person anymore.

Instead he uses the wings in his head. He never knew how to move them, at least not without a conscious effort. He didn't bother to practice, they were going to be strapped to his head to hide them either way, the same as his tail, wrapping it around his waist and tapping it tightly with belts to stop it from twitching. It's weird to let it do its own thing. Now he is thankful that he never carried his plans of cutting them off, they're big enough to cover both his eyes and most of his face, only his mouth and chin peeking out of the feathers. And he is thankful that they're not crooked from all the times he squished them under his mask without a care of the fragile bones and avoided the worst damage from that place .

Small mercies.

What's better is that he can actually see under the wings, just a little move and he can see how the enderman at his right squirms from his stare. They hate being stared at, but they don't dare retaliate with him, for obvious reasons. He can antagonize them as much as he wants and no one can do a damn thing about it but brace for impact. He wonders if he could kill one right here, right now, and let the others watch, set an example, make them realize how powerless they all are.

It should make him feel powerful. Finally, he can get his power back, he can be feared again.

He moves his wings, blocking the view.

It makes him feel sick.

“Ah! There you are!”

Oh, joy.

He didn't even notice when he reached the center of what's supposed to be the throne room in the future. The only thing that's installed is the stone floor, made of chiseled stone bricks, just like the ones in the stronghold they've been living in for the last year while planning to open the portal. Minus the moss, thankfully. Besides that, apart from the marked places where walls, pillars and other structural things will go, there's a chair that could be called a throne, though it is just so DreamXD can sit and determine how things will look from his point of view. There's a smaller chair at its side, intended for him.

He hasn't sat on it yet.

Speaking of the devil, the deity is among two endermen, who have taken steps to the side to let the tall entity come to the blonde, smiling from ear to ear. Literally, his toothy grin extends far more than what common sense would dictate, the visible portion of his face enlarging just to make room for it. But he's been living a year of this Lovecraftian nightmare, so he just raises his eyebrow before his antics. He chuckles, knowing his expression even behind feathers. He notes that when he laughs his four winged ears flutter slightly.

“How are things going along?”

“There seems to be some scuffle on the south exit, but it was some hours ago already. Since nothing is on fire, I guess everything is fine now.” He could have checked more deeply, but each time he tried to question anyone about anything they would bow and stutter their responses. He got fed up with the fourth witness and sent Punz to recollect the statement himself.

“That’s good. What about you? Like the new place?”

“Uh, it's not even done.”

“No, not yet. But you can imagine it! The pillars, the statues, the windows, the arcs, the-”

“Please don't tell me you are serious about the statues.”

“But you would look so cute!”

“Ex-Dee for th-”

The almighty deity makes a face, a mix of a pout and a snarl. He sighs heavily, already done with this.

“ Dad .”

He's all smiles again. Manchild.

“For the love of Prime, don't make a statue of me, please .”

DreamXD chuckles again. He takes a step closer and puts a hand on his head, petting his hair.

“Okay, I won't. I still think it would be cool, we can get one for Ranboo and your hound too.”

“I don't think Ranboo would like that. And stop calling Punz ‘hound’, he’s not a dog.”

He can feel the look his eldritch father is giving him. He knows this is a lost battle.

“Dream! I found something!”

Punz, you're not helping your case either when you come running like some pet with a new toy in their mouth to show their owner!

Both god and demigod turn around to look at the mortal. Dream can't get used to seeing Punz in anything but white and gold. Green doesn't really suit him, even if he's surrounded by it with the way all the endermen dress and the decorative carpets that have been laid down. The blonde had an easier time changing clothing style, he just had to mirror DreamXD’s attire and, beside the obvious difference with halos, porcelain white wings and skin, golden freckles and a massive height difference, they look nearly identical, so whatever looks good in his father will look at least decent on him. It's uncomfortable with how much skin it shows, especially his arms and hips. It was even worse before, showing his entire legs bare . He could at least convince the god to tone it down and put some leggins. It feels a little better, even if he still feels exposed.

He hates how much it shows his scars, but he's better now. He's a prince now, show strength, not weakness. These are marks of survival, that’s what Tech-

Forget it.

Punz now has ditched his white clothes for the same green and black with gold accents. It's more practical than the godling’s clothes, but is more flashy than what he usually wears, especially tight around his waist and chest, hiding it a little with his black cape with an eye of ender clip on it. It still feels weird, even if it accentuates his figure, Punz is meant for practical clothes only, not for fashion. At least he kept his medallion.

“Here.” Punz stops just in front of Dream, dropping on his extended hand… black torn fabric and… brown fur? “Apparently two individuals were found around the area of the altar. They were chased away on sight, so we don't know what they were doing. This is what they kept from the attack.”

Now that he thinks about it, there's really no other that has brown fur on his body except…

“Antfrost. And Bad, from association, right?”

“I guessed as much. Is this a thing from The Egg?”

“If it is, then we have a big problem.” He wishes he took better care of that damn egg. With Tommy and the presidency, the butchers, Doomsday and the prison, he never thought to look more into it, just sending Punz to investigate what he could. Now that could come back to bite him in the ass.

“What egg?” Both men turn to look at DreamXD, who’s tilting his head to the side like a confused animal. If said animal was able to curl onto itself like bones were a mere suggestion. It seems that he thinks it makes him look cute.

“Um.” Punz hasn't been that close to DreamXD in this last year, mostly away to get materials or information, so he still gets weirded out by the god’s antics. He doesn't even blink when Dream does it, though. It's funny. “There's a parasitic entity in a cave, it looks like a giant red egg that controls people with vines.”

“Uh. Oh, oooh! That thing? Yeah it was rather annoying, wasn't it? It kept singing an awful melody too! I shut it out, so its melody shouldn’t bother anyone anymore.”

Both men are silent for a moment.

“You… got rid of The Egg?”

“Not really? I didn't know if those people were using it or not, or if you wanted to keep it, so I just stuck it on a box for delivery.”

“... Anyway. It seems there's nothing to worry about.”

He should feel relieved.

He, instead, feels disappointed.

He takes a step backwards, turning and looking around. Looking at the kingdom in construction, the one that he's his eternal prince. He can do whatever he wants, and nothing at all. He's never going to be king, that's what DreamXD is, and he doesn't yearn for being more than what he already is, besides trying to usurp the throne would be absurd since he's already as close as he will ever be. He has the control that he wanted, everything, everyone here obeys his command.

Except Ranboo. He knows he went to warn the others, but that's fine. Better, in fact. That way no one will get hurt, they can keep their distance, everyone will be happy.

He should stop thinking about the people of the server as his people. They aren't, and never were, they made it pretty clear.

He doesn't care.

He hears heavy footsteps behind him. A hand on his shoulder, bigger than his entire head, touching him with the utmost care. He still flinches, after a year. What a joke.

The hand goes away.

“Talk to me, what's on your mind?”

DreamXD has always sounded powerful, ethereal, like a being above everything and anything. That's what a god is after all, and that's what he's always been. His voice comes with layers, ripples in the air and the ground, his words shake the earth as it stands, warm and cold at the same time, like hellfire. He speaks with mirth and mischief, like some short of chaos avatar. He took endless joy taunting The Warden when he broke his arm. He could hear his laugh as he announced his new kingdom before the rest of the server, knowing full well that there wasn't anything they could do about it.

But his voice now is warm, like sunlight. It's the voice that he uses only with him. No matter if they are alone or if someone is present, his father never uses that mocking voice with him when he sees him… like this. 

Weak, pathetic. Being unable to stop a fucking twitch after a fucking year .

“I’m going to make sure no one can enter here again.”

He leaves the both of them behind, making plans already of some sort of wall to keep the pests away. He needs to make himself useful, worthy of the Prince of the End title. Some nightmares won't stop him. Some bad memories won't stop him. The memory of a traitor inside a dirty cell won't stop him.

Nothing matters, he needs to be stronger, be better. He's not Dream from the DreamSMP anymore.

He's not someone that can be as easily cast aside. Not anymore.

Chapter Text

“I know there was a cult around him, but I don’t really remember where I looked it up or something, and then-”

“Phil.” He can’t feel his legs. He decided to kneel above them to try to keep awake as long as possible. He can feel the exhaustion of everything crawling from his feet to his shoulders, wanting nothing more than to rest. But he can’t, not only because there’s a lot to do, but also because he knows he won’t really rest, not with all the feelings in his chest that are trying to claw their way, carving the piglin from the inside like a pumpkin, spilling his insides for everyone to see. “We don’t care where you found this information, just tell us what you know .”

He feels bad for being so harsh to the elder, but they need to keep this moving.

At least Philza looks a little sheepish from rambling without reason.

“Alright. You know the pantheon of the gods, Prime, Lady Death, the usual, right?” The three people around the blonde nod. Both Niki and Puffy are sitting, in uncomfortable positions probably to also stay lucid. It’s past midnight, afterall. “After them there’re the minor gods, ranging from the typical domains like wisdom, chaos, war, and then more specific domains like farming, smithing, science, etc.” From somewhere Phil gets an empty book and ink. He puts the glass container on a solid surface and he plucks a feather from the back of one of his wings that seemed loose, cutting it a little with his claws so the tip is pointy but round, dipping it in ink and starting to draw and write while he talks.

All extremely extra, thanks Chat.

“And each god lives in one of the three dimensions, the Overworld, the Nether and the End, right?” He divides the page in three sections, labeling them as the respecting dimension. The Nether is at the bottom, obviously, the Overworld is in the middle and the End is at the top, represented with floating islands. He knows pretty much nothing about the End, like most people. It was Phil who identified the strange structure that ended up being their table as enderling architecture, but nothing more. To this day they don’t know what it was, and DreamXD certainly didn’t make things easier when he broke the damn thing and rebuilded it haphazardly.

“Have you been to the End?” Niki gets a little closer to look at the page better.

“Once, not very long, and it was by accident. I was waiting for someone.” Phil sends him a knowing smile. Yeah, better not talk about her wife now, uh?

“How was it?”

“A lot and… nothing at the same time. It was empty and barren, with no plants, only rock and towers made of obsidian. at least where I ended up landing. Like I said, it was an accident and I got out minutes later. But enough to know that whatever DreamXD is trying to bring here is… big. City sized at least .”

Whatever roared from the portal for sure sounded big.

“Anyway, like I said, gods and their domains. Lady Death rules the End, er, sorta. Let me…” He takes the book and changes to a new page, drawing symbols. He starts with what looks like a heart at a first glance, but with enough details that it also resembles a skull. A more detailed drawing of the sigil on his chest. “So, death. A mysterious process that, for the most part Lady Death controls, and, as far as I know, happens in the End. Now, while Lady Death lives in the End, the real owner of the End as a domain is our friend, DreamXD.” Next he draws a circle with an X crossing the superior part of it, and then a horizontal line on the lower half. It resembles… a smiley face? Like it’s laughing, but with a cartoonish grin, exaggerated and demented.

Is… is Dream’s mask supposed to mirror that ?

“So Lady Death is the Goddess of Death and lives in the End, but DreamXD is the God of the End?”

“Basically, but he doesn’t use the title much, he prefers Guardian. Mainly because his other domain is, well, life.”

“Hold on, all life ?”

“I think so?” Phil looks conflicted. “As a god he’s probably one of the most reserved deities. Practically nothing is known about him, and I only know this much because I know what concerns Lady Death.”

“It’s okay Phil, this is already a lot.” Puffy looks at the symbol that represents the God of the End, probably also seeing Dream’s mask. She has a troubled face, like she's realizing something at that very moment.

“I can look for more, but it's going to take time.” Phil sighs heavily.

“But, isn’t Prime the God of Life? And that’s why he’s The God ?”

“God of Creation means a lot of things, creating life could also be his domain, but usually the more specific domains have their own Gods to handle it, even when a more generic god can also do that.”

“Is there something more that you could tell us?” Technoblade makes sure to commit all this information to memory, even a little scrap of information could be valuable in the future. Though he doesn’t know how to use it yet.

Phil crosses his arms, humming to himself. “He seems to have the command over endermen, which makes sense with being the owner of the place they live in. You all already know about the revive book with, well.” Phil extends his hand and circles it in the air, referring to, everything, really. From the moment Dream revealed its existence to save his last life, to seeing Ranboo alive and well with their own two eyes.

Technoblade is probably, excluding the literal God that created the thing, his son (It’s so weird to think about Dream as the son of a God ) as its owner, and Punz as the second owner, the one that knows the most about the book in this server. At least about how it works, how to use it and what happens if you try to mess with it.

Which.

Guilt claws at his throat, bleeding so much that he has to swallow to try not to choke. Ranboo’s words reach his ears again, about DreamXD being mad at them, at him , because of what they did to his son. And he feels this guilt in his gut, but also this enormous, incomprehensible rage . Because he. Was. There .

They tried to use the book on himself, a living being, and DreamXD appeared. Yeah, he wished for a bell, but, hell, it’s not like he was hiding the blonde’s state from the God, he saw how he was. Why didn’t he do something then? Why blame it all on them ? On him ?

He’s blaming himself enough for the two of them anyway.

The air tastes like blood and smells like ash. He sees black, purple and red.

He can feel heat in the air like lava.

“I’ll be outside.”

He needs to leave now .

The piglin ignores the concerned calls behind him, marching to the door and stepping outside, not caring about slamming the door open in his haste. The spring wind is like a balm to his skin, heated like a furnace. His steps take him to the back of the building, where a barren plain can be seen while he leans on the wall. He takes deep breaths, letting the chill bite at his throat and lungs.

Anything better than blood and ash.

He tries to grab behind himself, forgetting again that he doesn’t have his cape. It's gone. He really needs to get a grip on reality, on his new reality. He can’t get like this anytime he remembers Dream, for god’s sake. He needs to focus, this type of outburst doesn’t help anyone .

“Um.”

He draws his sword, which he didn’t remember even bringing with him. He probably didn’t even remove it since he got to the house. The tip of the weapon is placed just inches from a black and white neck. He looks up to cross eyes with mismatched ones, red and green, fear and panic naked to anyone who would see.

He lowers his sword.

“ Prime save me .” The teen wheezes, all their body releasing the tension like a spring, all but collapsing on themselves. He lets them a moment to breathe while he inspects them and their new… attire, if it can be called that.

The little wings at the side of their head flutter with their movements, more alive than the stiff broken things they were before. Their eyes look… shinier? The red one is a deep crimson, probably a lot like his own eyes, but bright instead of deep like ever consuming void. The green one… he doesn’t really want to name who it reminds them off. They’re taller, somehow, less lanky but still pretty much a stick of a teenager. He can see meat on their bones at least, which means that they must be eating well and exercising. And, just like he saw before, they look more alive, their hair fluffy and their skin with colour, as much color as monochromatic skin can show. They have freckles, like dots of dust on their cheeks that cover the lower part of their face like an eye mask, inverted according to the half they are in.

Their clothes on the other hand are, as far as he has seen, an exact replica of what Dream, and from extension DreamXD, was wearing, except Ranboo has a deep green cape that ends just above their ankles and cover all the, let's say ‘windows’ of skin that were on display on both God and demigod this morning. The cape is closed, only revealing Ranboo’s arms when they extend them, making the attire more modest. Though he takes notice that they don't wear leggings, their legs bare.

The teen takes a final breath and they straighten themselves, looking at the piglin with a small smile.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. You probably didn’t expect me of all people.” Techno chuckles quietly, and Ranboo’s smile gets smaller but much more sincere. Their eyes get a little misty.

Their hands are trembling.

“I didn’t want to leave so fast before. I wanted to see you again and…”

He can feel his throat closing up, his eyes hurting a little. He knew Ranboo was alive, he saw them this morning. But seeing them now, here, in front of him, it makes it so much real. His mistake is a heavy, heavy burden that won’t ever lift up, but at least the teen is now okay. Thanks to Dream.

“I’m sorry. Sam said that he had Michael a-and I didn’t- I didn’t think that he-” Techno doesn’t let Ranboo finish. He extends his hands to the other and drags them close, hugging them tightly. He isn’t used to being the shorter one in a hug, but he doesn’t care right now, tiptoeing just enough to bring the teen’s face on the crook of his neck, patting their hair while the enderling circles their arms around his shoulders, breathing heavily. His shirt starts getting wet, he just pats their back, feeling above the clothes with his fingers a big scar on their back, just where the sword that Sam trusted on the teen entered. He knows exactly where it exited, just through the stomach, splashing the ground with blood and viscera when The Warden removed it. When that man killed them.

He places his hand on their back, feeling their breathing, the strong beating of their heart.

“You're okay. Both Tubbo and Michael are okay, too. I-”

“You helped, I know.”

“Though I-”

The enderling separates from him, their eyes shiny from tears, not boiling skin in sight. Their little wings spread, mirroring the way Dream’s used to do when he got surprised or excited. Or agitated, mainly when he had a lot of energy.

They… do look a lot like Dream. Uncomfortably so.

“Michael was already safe when you got to him, right?”

“... Yeah.”

When Ranboo died, Technoblade swore to bring their child to safety, no matter what. His animosity with Tubbo, L’mamburg's former president, responsible for his attempted execution and in general bane of his existence meant nothing when it meant rescuing the kid of one of his closest allies, one who could call a friend. And Tubbo had a similar idea, leaving the past in the past for a common goal.

Both of them grew enough to leave the past for this one thing. And Techno can respect that.

Which in the end meant nothing. The prison was easy to enter once the principal prisoner got out. It was child’s play to find where The Warden was keeping the kid, what kind of security they were dealing with, and what to expect.

But they didn't expect to find in the office of The Warden said kid, safe and sound, dropped there, from the account of Michael, some hours ago.

Technoblade had his suspicions of who dropped him, seemingly from thin air and just before they arrived. Now it seems this is confirmation.

“It was you, wasn't it?”

“No. I mean, I helped but I didn't pick him up, probably one of Ex-Dee’s personal endermen did. I was… busy.”

“Oh.”

Ranboo dips their head low, their hair bouncing a little. “I’m sorry Techno.”

“Hey, you didn’t ask to die, man.”

“No, it’s, well. I guess I should say ‘I’m sorry, Protesilaus’.” His ears stand a little from surprise. “I don’t know if I was already out of the team from, well, death. But if I wasn’t, I guess this is my formal letter of resignation.” They’re smiling, but it looks sad.

“Ran- Lethe. You can still be on the team, it’s been a long year without you but you’re welcome, always.”

“I want to, truly. But I can’t. I’m… already tiptoeing the line just by being here .” The teen looks at the sides, as if expecting something to jump from nowhere, to materialize from thin air and attack them.

He lets a deep breath leave his nose, willing his throat to not produce a growl. “We can protect you.”

“It’s not that!” Ranboo raises their hand, probably smelling what Techno is thinking right now. “I’m not in danger… I think.”

“That’s reassuring.” He deadpans.

“It’s complicated, I don’t know. DreamXD is really confusing.” Techno raises his eyebrow and the teen just collapses on the ground, limbs rearranging themselves in an awkward position. Technoblade reluctantly follows, flopping to the ground with a grunt. “Like I said, I had to leave fast this morning. But I will try to tell you everything so you can tell the others.”

“Everything?”

“As far as I know. It’s a lot so please don’t interrupt much.”

Well, what better answers than from the man on the inside?

The first thing that they felt after the burning pain around their chest and hands was emptiness. Immeasurable, ever consuming, monumental, ethereal emptiness. A void that would never be filled, a maw that would swallow, swallow everything, until nothing remains.

That void sunk its teeth on their very essence. They felt the pull, the gnawing of teeth on ethereal bone, a leg that wasn’t really there being dragged like a dog with a corpse. A thing that was going to eat them, and make of them nothing more than void itself.

But then a hand. They didn’t have a face but they felt the caress nonetheless on their cheek. It was warm, when everything around them was nothing. They felt the hand grab them, pulling. They didn’t feel pain, but they did feel the struggle of the teeth on their leg and the hand on their throat, pulling like they were some type of toy between two unruly children. It didn’t hurt, but it did something that made them want to tear their own leg off to escape it.

A voice sounded from nowhere, cold but not uncaring. It sounded like a woman, but they weren't sure. The voice mumbled something, between a laugh and a question, garbled enough to not make any sense in their head.

“I’m sorry.” A second voice, distinctively masculine, rumbling from where the hand was grabbing them from the neck. From the tone, they know he's not really sorry. “This one is mine.”

“You're overstepping.” The woman's voice sounded amused rather than mad. The teeth gnawing at their leg released their pressure, though they didn't let go, keeping them in place, suspended on the void.

“Like I said, this one is mine.” A second hand patted the top of their head, the action somehow foreign and familiar at the same time. The masculine voice seemed rather relaxed, his words always with the hint of a smile and a laugh at the tip of their tongue. It sounded powerful, as if nothing could ever hurt them. “You probably know how it is, family and all.”

“Oh sush. Like you need an excuse like that.” The voice laughs, a very nice laugh. She sounds like she's talking with a close friend, like this conversation is more a game than a real discussion of… ownership? They don't really understand what's happening, to be honest. “I do say they have a lot to return to, so try to keep this one in one piece this time, okay Ex?”

Now the masculine voice laughs. They don't like that laugh. Is inoffensive, without any malice, but it sounds demented, chaotic, like someone who revels in mayhem.

They're very constractings voices, one masculine and one feminine, one cold and the other warm, one peaceful and serene, the other full of mischief.

Two opposites.

“I think my kid is getting a little angsty about the ritual taking so long, so I will be going, okay?” The hold on their neck tightens, it doesn't hurt, but it's uncomfortable.

“I haven't had the chance to say it but, congratulations. I know how much he meant to you. And… I’m sorry for-”

“Hey, Kristen, you know it wasn't your fault. It was mine.” For a moment, both the hold on their leg and their neck release, leaving them suspended in the void like their floating on the ocean. The voices whisper, sorrow and reassurances on their tone and words, too mangled to really make out. With their time floating on this place they have gotten their bearings in order.

Specifically in the sense that they're dead.

Is this the afterlife? Are these voices… gods? Why are gods talking about them?

“Do remember how mortals are.”

“I know how they are. Don't worry.”

The voices get close again. They feel a pressure on their shoulders like two hands grabbing them and lifting them up. They want to speak, but nothing comes out.

“Seriously, I know you're mad.” The hands freeze in place. The woman’s voice takes an edge, like a blade ready to cut flesh. “And I understand it, probably better than anyone. But don't interfere directly.”

“... I know.” The hands move their body easily, cradling them like a little kid against a cool surface. It feels like stone, maybe marble? With gaps between the rocks, like some kind of segmented body, if that makes sense. It's hard to see, and their sense of touch can just guide them so far. The male voice rumbles from under it. “If I have another question I will probably talk to you later.”

“Please don't make my job harder as it is.”

“No promises.” The woman sighs, exasperated while the male laughs their chaotic laugh.

They feel more aware of their surroundings. The skin under their fingers is smooth, tan and white merging on some type of picture with golden dots adorning what they can see as arms circling them protectively, also segmented like the body under their cheek. It's dark, but through the darkness they can see a figure in black and purple, a big dress like a jellyfish and a big hat like a witch, with a veil and wings so black like the void and so big that seem to encapsulate the whole void, dotted with stars that emit no light.

“But.” They raise their head, to look at the entity that's holding them. Halos of light and energy circle a round head, like a white ball with a central turquoise eye, big and always seen, surrounded by smaller eyes, which are still massive compared to their tiny self. The eye glances at them and they feel in their blood the full force of the entity's attention above their shoulders. They freeze, in the eye of a predator, and the God, because there's nothing else this thing could be, chuckles at their reaction, the ball forming some kind of upper jaw and nothing else, patting their head with a third arm with big segmented claws while looking at the figure in black again. “I don't have to do anything if he hurts them, right?”

The entity with a woman's voice pauses, seemingly understanding something that Ranboo lacks information and context for. The white statue that's holding them doesn't have a mouth, only teeth, and they feel its smile, menacing and full of rage. A promise, of something awful about to come.

“Ex-”

“I will see you again, Miss Death. Lovely conversation.”

And then they woke up.

(“So you saw Lady Death and DreamXD?”

“I guess? I know DreamXD. The woman I thought was Death but I wasn't sure.”

“Sounds like her, appearance-wise.”

“Hope I made a good first impression then.”)

The moment they opened their eyes, the whole world tilted to a weird angle, making their head spin, their limbs weak and their breathing irregular.

They turn to the side and puke.

“Ew.” A roaring goes through their ears, making it near impossible to really pick any sound. The only reason they even hear the noise of disgust is because, for one, it comes from right next to them. For two, their voice, the same male voice from the void, is really loud. Not in volume, the entity probably meant it more as a commentary to themselves, but in sheer presence . With an aura like that it is hard to go unnoticed.

They feel cold hands reach and grab their hair, combing it and pushing it back to keep out when Ranboo is puking their guts out, nausea making it hard to really think about anything. The help is nice, though, and the hands are cold.

“Bring a bucket and something to clean it, it stinks.” The powerful voice commands someone outside the room, they assume, they don't have the capacity to turn around and see at the moment. Their head is clearer at least, as they can see the floor under them and the smell is starting to register to their senses.

“Is not the worst I smelled.” A voice comes from behind them, quiet and raspy, sounding like an attempt at a joke and falling flat. They assume it is from who is holding their hair, now patting their back to see if more bile is coming out. Fortunately it seems their nausea has abated for now, only coughing a little through their battered throat. “Bring something to drink, and maybe a towel too.”

The cool hand places itself on their forehead, bringing a really nice feeling against their heated skin, practically making them pass out on the spot. The other hand prevents them from going far, keeping their head from dropping and from them getting more dirty than they already are, his chest a little dirty from the vomit and… blood?

Dry blood, there isn't any trace of blood on the puke itself, and the blood is only on their clothes, coming from a big hole around their stomach, the fabric torn to shreds.

Oh yeah, they died, didn't they?

They remember the conversation between the… gods? Not really sure if it was a couple days ago or a mere seconds, but this is normal for them, not being able to make sense of their memories and the passage of time. It is actually surprising that they even remember the conversation in the first place with how out there they were.

“Ranboo, are you there?” The voice behind them speaks, now registering the tone of concern. It's not exactly warm, but is nice, a little husky as if from a cold. Though, the moment a little raspiness passes at the question, they realize that is a voice that they recognize.

A very distinct, very menacing voice.

They turn their head a fraction, just enough to look from the corner of their eye at the man holding them to make sure they don't dirty themselves further, and also possibly to stop them from running away.

An orange jumpsuit, dirty and bloody with torn fabric around the arms and legs, as if the man travelled through dense woods or with dogs nipping at his heels. A big, fluffy red cape drapes around their shoulders, the majestic clothing a little soiled when instead of enlarging the person, it makes them look smaller and meek, dragging on the floor. It is actually impressive that it is not that dirty, which speaks of the care of the person who made it and the person wearing it.

(“...”

“Did you say something?”

“Nha, forget it. Continue please.”)

Green, deep and menacing eyes observe their every move, like a predator waiting for their prey to make a fatal mistake. Their breath gets caught on their throat at the sight, not only of eyes but also sharp teeth from a mouth a little open, as in confusion, from skin so scarred that it would be inconceivable to think that it wasn't scarred once upon a time. Not only that, but wings, a little grey around the edges, come out from the side of his head, framing their face as if a mortal looking at a god.

Before the jailbreak they didn't see Dream’s face, ever. They were new, and apparently no one had seen his face since L’mamburg’s conflict, so many years ago. And look, it's true that this is not really the first time they see it. As they said, jailbreak. But a lot was going on at the time so they didn't really process what they saw then, the scars, the wings, the green, a tail? It didn't matter, they had to get out alive.

Which, apparently, they didn't. But they're here now, with the most dangerous person holding their head, concerned.

And, look. To them, jailbreak was yesterday, maybe a couple of hours ago. But they know, especially with the dry blood on their chest, that that's not the case.

The only thing their body decided to do at that moment was to freeze and let themselves at the mercy of the hounds.

(“Don’t laugh!”

“What? You basically played dead as a defence mechanism.”

“I- well yeah, but I was really overwhelmed!”

“L. Couldn't be me.”)

“Huh.” The powerful voice came close. From their positions they could see white barefoot feet with a fluffy tail coming their way. Dream changed his hold on them, propping them on their back while he gently cleaned their face with a wet cloth. They see movement from the side, and someone dropped to their knees and started to clean the mess on the floor, giving them their back. “Quick, the smell is really bad.”

Dream’s face is close to them, and they can't help but stare, to analyze it, now that (it seems) their life isn't in danger, and their voice doesn't seem to be working either.

Scars, everywhere. A big one across their right eye that would probably blind another person, but the eye itself seems fine, as shiny as the other and moving just fine. That scar crosses to their lips, raising it a little to expose pretty sharp teeth. A scar across his jaw, another across their nose, a big nasty one through his neck, as if someone just went ham with an axe, and the rest hidden under clothes and the big cape. Hands covered in tiny scars, from shackles and scissors, work on their face, feeling a little more alive now that they're at least more clean. The moment a hand brushes the side of their head both stiffen, Ranboo on alarm and Dream as if hesitating, before retreating.

When Dream takes a step back, Ranboo can see the person that kneeled before, now standing up with a dirty cloth. They open their mouth in surprise.

It's an enderman.

Before they can say anything the mob hurries away, leaving from a wooden door, placed on a bricked stone wall, cracked around the edges and with moss covering the surface.

“Did the ritual… work?” Dream’s voice makes them jump, looking up as the blonde gets up, looking at the figure that Ranboo registers immediately as the owner of the powerful voice of before. Because certainly, no one else could have another voice with an appearance like that .

Big, tall, broad shoulders with a lean build. Distinctively masculine with golden hair and freckles around their tan and white skin. Two pairs of wings come out the side of his head, flapping absent-minded around, moving halos circling them around their axis. A white and plain mask is placed on their face, hiding it all except their mouth that smiles at Dream when he sees him approach. A pair of big fluffy wings spread at the action, bigger than anything they have ever seen.

The man is the biggest person they have ever seen. But that's the thing, he’s not a person.

“It worked perfectly! It's just a little tweak that made them a little woozy.” He moves like he’s swimming, his clothes, doing so little of covering his actual body, trail behind him like an afterimage. Looking at him move around feels like dreaming, in a confusing and nauseating way. He has an eye of ender for a clip, keeping his cape shut around his shoulders. That eye, strangely enough, seems to be his actual eye.

“A little twea- Why didn't you mention this before?!” Dream practically explodes in anger, the wings at the side of his head spreading suddenly with a mighty flap. The feathers are crooked, they remember that Phil said that's what happens when you don't take care of preening them often.

“Because I didn't know it needed to be done.” Ranboo stiffens when both men turn to look at them. This time, however, their body responds, curling unto itself, their tail literally between their legs. 

It's clear that they died and was revived with Dream’s book. The god… probably has to do with that. And Dream is wearing Technoblade’s cape, so he must be around somewhere, right? Phil too, maybe Niki?

But looking around, this place doesn't look like Technoblade’s cabin, the Syndicate’s quarters or any base or house they know off. They can't hear anything beyond this room, and it looks more like an abandoned ruin than a proper base. Plus, they don't know how long they have been dead, how long their body have been moved around, unaware of whatever happened to them or their friends and allies.

“H-how…” Their voice sounds raspy from disuse, which doesn't make them calm down. “How long have I been dead?”

“Hm…” The entity places their hand on their chin, an exaggerated gesture to signal thinking. Dream just seems confused by it, but makes a dismissive gesture, turning to grab something from around the corner, scorching marks on the ground. “Around two weeks, probably.”

“Two-”

“The ritual began a week ago. Which is why I ask, what the fuck did you do?!” Dream speaks with a soft voice to Ranboo, a little comforting. But the moment he directs his words to the god, he screams, pointing a finger to the tall man. Ranboo is a little nervous for how much the blonde seems to like to scream to the clearly deity being in the room. Who just takes it, for some reason.

“Well, you have already seen it, no?” Ranboo scrambles behind them, their back hitting the foot of the bed they apparently have been resting for the past week, while the entity advances to them nonchalantly, reaching with a hand and putting the hair that falls around the side of their head back, revealing the side and-

Look, they know the little… wings? Broken, shredded, deformed things at the side of their head are not really a pretty sight, but having them exposed like that feels like some kind of violation.

But Dream looks… not surprised, but confused. At least not disgusted.

“They have healed nicely, don't you think?” A finger brushes against them and… they feel it.

Wait, what?

“It looks like baby wings.”

Ranboo brings their hand to the other side of their head, feeling the feathers of their wings. It feels like wings, properly, not just chunks of broken bones and flesh with skin that should grow feathers if it didn't come out wrong.

Well, the shape of it at least. The “feathers” feel as coarse and stiff as ever. They don't feel like Phil’s wings, soft to the touch. But maybe this is what unhealthy feathers are like.

“What?” They can't help their exclamation, the tall man before them chuckling at their reaction while he takes a step back.

“You were born wrong.” Okey, rude. “Since I was already bringing you back, may as well fix you up. Can't have my sloppy work running around.”

The words hurt, but they do feel… better. Their head is clear, for a chance, thoughts going around smoothly and memories at a grasp instead of all over the place. They feel weak from being sick, and probably from being bed bound, but they also feel energetic, their limbs stronger. And the broken wings are healed nicely, starting to grow properly. They are… fixed, yeah.

“I didn't know you could do that.” Dream looks at Ranboo with a small smile, but also with something in his eyes that feels like gnawing at their skin.

“I mean, this is a special occasion. Since I made it I can unmake it.” The god flicks a lock of their hair out of the way.

A beat of silence passes innocently between the three of them.

“What do you mean you made them ?” Dream is so beyond angry that he can't scream anymore, which makes it more scary.

Instead the entity coos at him like one would to an angry kitten, picking Ranboo so fast that gravity feels like it has been flipped and presents them to Dream like some type of pet, grabbing under their arms. They curl their feet and tail to make themselves as small as possible, not unlike a cat.

“I told you we would be a big happy family! Well, this is your sibling, say hi to Ranboo!”

(“My head hurts.”

“Fair, do you want a moment?”

“Yeah. Just, what?”

“The explanation isn't… better.”)

First of all, this God, entity, eldritch abomination that can barely pass as human is apparently DreamXD, Ex-Dee, Guardian of the End and God of Life. Which, huh? This guy?

Yeah he looks like a God, but more like a chaos god, not The God of Life, all life. They expected more resemblance to maybe the endermen, with being their guardian, purple or black skin instead of white, maybe claws. Though, having in mind that this is probably a toned down form to look more approachable, maybe all that is hidden away.

They remember that in the void there were more arms and more halos, but they didn't dare look more before they woke up, so that's for another time.

Second, Dream is this god’s son. Like actual, biological son. How does that even happen?

“Well when a mother and a father love each other very much-”

“I’m going to stop you right there.”

Dream was the one to explain… barely. Because he also didn't know how it worked, and DreamXD utilized terms that flew over both their heads, something about milk and stars.

So, Dream was created, like someone creates a statue from a block of marble and starts carving. There was a process, magic, power, stars and milk and whatever that means that gave life to a bundle of things that Ex-Dee put together to make a son, his only son. Or so he thought.

“Yeah, in the process there was residue, excess that I just threw away. I assumed it wouldn't do anything but I guess that mixed itself with an enderman infant or something. Explains the split down.” DreamXD talks about their birth so nonchalantly that it gives them whiplash. It is jarring, to know that they were… literal leftovers. “Don't know how you ended up here though, I closed all the End entrances since Dream disappeared, and you're younger than that.”

And third, the End, the most mysterious dimension, home of the endermen and other lost creatures is going to open again. Forcefully and with the destruction of the Overworld in mind.

“Okay, that's a little too extreme to say. It would probably wreck the area where the portal is going to be, but that's all!”

“How big of an area?” Dream crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow and looking down the God, his father, like a parent catching their child on a lie.

Said God touched his fingers together in a cutesy gesture that seems so out of place in the menacing figure that Ranboo feels like they're still dreaming.

“Maybe… five hundred feet of radius?”

They feel like passing out.

“... We'll talk about this later.”

And finally. Since Ranboo is also DreamXD’s son, Dream’s sibling, they're supposed to help them with all this madness.

“What?!” They can feel their little wings flutter, the movement small but so comforting when releasing the stressful energy in their body.

“We are a family, and family sticks together.” The smile that this entity shows them is not nice, never nice. It's like he's talking to a bug that he finds fond of, but nothing more. Just with the difference in how they talk to Dream and to Ranboo they know whose child he likes better, which is fine for Ranboo because they won't be part of this strange relationship.

“I already have a family, with my husband and child.” And, oh god Michael . Sam has him, they died and Sam has Michael and Tubbo is probably so worried . They have to get out of here and get to them now .

“Ranboo! Breath!” A hand places on their chest, while another places their own on a rising chest, breathing in and out. They mimic the moment with difficulty, each breath coming painful, but they keep going, over and over until the black spots around their vision disappear, leaving only Dream with them.

He looks so concerned, and with a knowing look too. They always heard of how perceptive the blonde was with everyone, that keeping a secret from them was akin to hiding blood from a shark.

“We can help you get Michael back and bring him to a safe place.” Ranboo can't speak, but Dream powers on, answering their multiple questions as if reading their mind. “We can search for their whereabouts, distract the wa- distract Sam to get him out, make sure Tubbo is safe too. You can't do this alone.”

“What about Technoblade? Where is he?” Because that's the thing, among this insanity they haven't seen a lick of the piglin. It has been two weeks so they must be also worried about their state, with Dream being the one who knows about how resurrecting someone works and being this concerned. The entity hasn't even mentioned him or Phil once, and they were there on the day of jailbreak, so what gives.

But the moment he uttered that name something in Dream changed. His soft eyes hardened, looking at the ground for a moment, his wings fluttering to cover them like a mask, shutting them down, shaking a bit like a wave.

“... He's not here.”

And Ranboo’s blood ran cold.

“Is he hurt? I didn't know, was it Sam? I-”

“He's gone, he left us behind.” Dream raises his head, but the wings block his eyes, only being able to see the movement of his mouth. “He's at his cabin, probably with Phil.”

Ranboo can't help but look at the cape on the blonde’s shoulders. It doesn't seem right.

Not, it doesn't, Technoblade talked extensively about Dream’s condition in the prison, that they needed to get him out, safe, that he needed a safe place to stay and heal and rest . He couldn't just leave, just like that! Not with Dream looking a wind away from dropping. God father or father god, Technoblade wouldn't give a damn.

“That can't be right.”

“It's the truth, we're alone in this.”

“Hold on, no, what happened? Techno wouldn't -”

“You died .” The teen retreats a step, the force of Dream’s voice making their hair stand on edge. His voice just now sounded like…

It sounded like how the voice of Ex-Dee ripples the air around it. Like nature bending the knee before a stronger presence.

“You died, and he's gone. He left us behind.”

And with that, all was clear as day.

“Oh. He left you .”

And they hate their confused mind for blurting that out.

There was no noise, no gesture, no action. Just Dream raising his head a little, to make it clear he was looking at them. But it felt like a blade was pressed on their throat, inspecting where to stab to make them bleed out as long as possible. This man that looked starved, scarred, probably with four hours of sleep in the whole week, a cape that dwarfed him to the point of childish.

This man looked like the whole world was at his fingertips, he just had to squeeze enough.

No wonder he’s the son of a god.

“I guess that's right, uh?” He smiled. It was awful .

“I’m really sorry, I didn't mean it-”

“It's okay.” Dream puts a hand on their shoulder, like a friend, but it burns. They can imagine the smoke coming from the contact, but their voice refuses to scream, to beg, to even open. “That's all in the past now, it doesn't matter, nothing of that does.”

When he removes the hand the pain is gone, just an illusion.

Or more like a vision of the future.

“Either way, you should rest. You can make your decision later, but I assure you we can help you, and you help us.” Dream walks out of the room, the big cape trailing behind him like wind is running in the tiny bedroom, just like how Ex-Dee’s clothes moved before. With his presence gone, the room feels bigger, but they lack air.

DreamXD smile is dangerous, with a hint of pride. In a blink he’s there, in the next he’s not.

(“Sorry.”

“Uh?”)

He puts his hands on his face, begging for every single god that is out there to hold on and not break down right here and now. Not in front of Ranboo, the kid has had enough already.

“A-are you okay?”

Hands touch his back, and he heaves. They retreat in alarm.

“Is- is something I said? I-”

“No no, don't worry, just-” He tries to control his voice. He breaths, in and out. Tries to calm his heart, to stop this, this…

Regret

Ranboo stops, their hand hovering over Techno’s figure, like they're figuring something out, debating what they should do. In the end, they put a hand on their back fully, the pressure comforting.

The next minutes pass in silence, just someone struggling to breathe.

“Technoblade?” Ranboo tentatively asks, checking him over. He feels like his voice can work again, but opts to nod instead of speaking. “I… I wanna ask you something, if it's not too much.”

The piglin has a hunch of what they wanna know, and he really doesn't want to respond. He nods anyway.

“What Dream said… about you leaving him, is it true?” Ranboo's expression is a mixture of hope and disbelief, like they can't make sense of what they're saying. As if it was pure insanity. But the tone of the question, the final tone, has a little despair, like his reaction was enough confirmation of the worst.

He breaths. In and out. ‘It will hurt less this way’, he tells himself.

“It's true. You died and I left him. Alone.”

Ranboo blinks.

“Was… was DreamXD with him when you-”

“No.”

No Ranboo, he didn't know he was going to get rescued by his godly father. Because Dream is a survivor, but it's insanity to think that he could have lived alone with nothing but a cape on the tundra. It was a death sentence. Plain and simple.

He left him to die.

Ranboo… doesn't react much. More like they didn't hear him. The only indication that they're present is a movement on the corner of their eye and their hand clenching around their cloak, the knuckles white.

“That's… not true.”

“It is.”

“But…” They look… dejected. Probably disappointed with him. Which is fair, they probably had an image of him that he just shattered by being a stupid, stupid moron. His hands tremble a little bit, half from the chill, half from the emotions on his chest. “Why?”

“I was mad.”

Ranboo seems to be waiting for more, but that's it. He was mad and sentenced Dream to death. There's no excuse, no real reason.

“I’m sorry.”

It feels like the only thing he can do now is apologize.

“... Did you try to say that to him?” The piglin raises an ear, and the teen gets closer, more frantic. “Did you try to apologize?”

“No, this morning was the first time I’ve seen him in the last year since… that.”

“Ah.” After that declaration they seem to mellow down from their manic state, looking more troubled than anything.

“Guess it is too late for that, uh?” He goes for a smile, but it comes back crooked, wrong. It feels like it is tapped to their skin, so he drops it immediately.

“It's… well, it's not fine but at least it's better than what I was assuming.” Ranboo laughs, small and boyish. Damn, he missed that laugh.

He missed Ranboo. He can't help going for another hug.

“It's okay, yeah. It's not the end of the world, it can be fixed.” Technoblade hums, not really paying much mind to what the enderling is mumbling to themselves.

He feels their heartbeat. He thanks Dream in his head for this, even if he probably won't be able to talk to him again. He knows how much Dream can hate someone. He ignores Ranboo’s rambling, about fixing things, he knows there's nothing that can be fixed here, not anymore.

Though with all of this he can't help but ask.

“I thought you were, how to say it, scared of him?” Ranboo separates from him, blank face, and the piglin feels awkward about that reaction. “You know, the whole panic room and the dreams you had? That you told me?”

“Oh, that. Um.” Ranboo doesn't look uncomfortable, more like confused on how to explain themselves. “Okay so, the whole thing going on with me was part of being ‘created wrong’ that I mentioned before. Is… weird, I’m still finding out things about myself but, since I’m a sort of… clone? Of Dream? Yeah, I could hear him when I shouldn't. That has stopped since Ex-Dee has put me back together. It has been a long year.”

“Oh. That's… neat.”

“Yeah!” The teen’s tail begins to wag in excitement. “I can teleport now, pretty far away too. And it doesn't hurt when I cry anymore, and the, well, these.” Ranboo flicks a lock on their hair to reveal the healed baby wings at the side of their head. Which, yeah, the feathers look really weird , not like normal feathers should be at all. Healthy or not.

He has an urge to pluck one for examination. But that would be rude and Phil would beat him with a stick if he found out.

Besides, he can't take the eyes out of a particular braid now revealed, with a green and purple ribbon. It looks nice, like someone made it with care.

“About Dream though…” Ranboo gives him an uncomfortable look, probably because of what he's done. It's fair. “He has helped me, a lot.” The teen fidgets with the edge of their cape, not looking at him at all. “I… at first I didn't want to be there with them, but I was… a little kidnapped? I didn't know where I was and I was too weak to do anything anyway. So Dream took care of me, told me about what they were doing with the portal and, well. He… cared. About me, my well-being. When I knew DreamXD didn't. I know he doesn't care that much about me, even now.”

He can see how the rejection hurts, even when they try to put a strong face.

“He only tolerates me because Dream cares about me. And, I don't know why? If I was for myself, just being here and talking to you would make DreamXD mad, no doubt. But he also acts like it’s not a big deal, and makes other things that don’t really matter like the end of the world. But he also pretends to care, sometimes? Other times I think he wants to tear my skin off. But Dream bouches for me, all. The. Time. No matter what.”

That… sounds like Dream alright. One thing that he is sure of is that he cares, immensely. The piglin got Ranboo killed, but so did Dream, and he probably blames himself for that too. It sounds like a way to repay that debt, even if reviving them should have been enough, for most people.

Ranboo probably doesn't understand that kind of repayment from him, when they were basically strangers, even enemies, not long ago.

“So I…” The enderling takes a deep breath and looks him in the eye, a determined expression. “So I've been helping them with their portal. Dream promised to make it as harmless to everyone as possible, so that's why it was opened in the hole.”

Smart. It's already bedrock anyway, not much left to destroy and very far from anyone in the range of the blast. And nothing important for anyone to care about.

“And I don't regret it. It was rocky at the start but… Dream is my brother, and I stand by it.”

It feels like Ranboo's testing him. Leaving the Syndicate, talking about helping ‘the enemy’ and declaring themselves an ally of the biggest threat. It feels like they're determining how much they can trust Techno, or if nothing at all.

“... Are you happy?”

Ranboo looks surprised, like they didn't expect that question.

“Besides DreamXD, are you happy with him?”

“I…” The teen drops their tail. “Not really.”

The piglin raises his eyebrows.

“It’s… ugh.” The enderling drops their arms in frustration. “Is the situation. Like I’m happy being with Dream but it's not enough. I… I try to help him in turn, but I don't know how to make him less… not sad, but, dejected I guess? And when he isn't just staring at nothing he wants to tear things apart. Literally. I started to make training dummies for him, but it doesn't seem to help much.”

And, well, what can he say about it? He listens, without really taking the information.

“I wanted to see Tubbo and Michael so badly but I didn't want to leave Dream to… that. The only ones that seem to do something to him are Punz and DreamXD but it doesn't seem enough . Especially DreamXD, I… I don't trust him.”

It sounds really concerning. But, does it really concern him? Hasn't he lost the right to care about Dream? Why is Ranboo telling him all this? Probably to vent out their frustrations.

“I… I sneaked out to talk with all of you and I still feel guilty for leaving him behind. And I know he won't tell me anything about how he feels. I hate it .”

Hasn't he done enough harm already? He can maybe advise Ranboo, but Phil would probably be better for that. Niki too, hell even Puffy. He… doesn't know how to help them with this.

“So, I’m going to help him with you.”

Ah?

“Hah?”

“I… I wanted to ask you about what you did because he acts… weird. When you're mentioned. Not mad, well, he gets angry, but also sad? More like overwhelmed and then nothing at all. I never got a straight answer from him because of that. So I wanted the whole story.” Ranboo’s little wings flutter, looking at him with hope. “And you are sorry for it.”

“I am, but it doesn't matter.”

“It does, because I know he would want an apology, for his own pride’s sake at least. And also because your name is the only other thing that makes him react at all .”

He feels… something on his chest. Something that he can't name, but it hurts. It hurts so much that it reminds him that he's still alive.

He doesn't want the hurt to stop ever .

“It will be hard, because Ex-Dee is always watching him, and I doubt he would let anyone near him, especially you. But I know it will work. We can help him.”

“Are… are you sure?” He hates how small his voice sounds. The hope of maybe, just maybe, he can get the right to stand with Dream once more. Of maybe getting to talk to him again, to look at him again. Even if the prison’s days were dark, so dark, they were also bright with what Dream could be with him. To him. That wooden pig statue burns in his mind, so small and so very present in his being.

“We have to try.” And Ranboo sounds so full of childish hope. It should be dumb, but he can't help but smile.

“I’ll take your word on that, Lethe.”

Ranboo laughs. He missed that laugh.

They get up, flexing their knees and stretching their arms out.

“I should go, I want to see Tubbo and Michael. I will talk to you if anything more happens. For the most part we’re just building the castle.”

“Castle?”

“I wasn't kidding with ‘End Kingdom’. That's not its name, it doesn't have one currently but DreamXD wants Dream to name it and he refuses, so that’s the name at the moment.”

Grunting reaches his ears, moans of pain and people begging for a break. Finally, found him.

He takes measured steps, making them as soundless as possible while also walking normally, the perfect picture of tranquility. He doesn't have to fear being attacked here, but it doesn't hurt to be always prepared, especially when here looking someone in the eye by accident is a sure way to get on someone's shit list.

Even if they can't do anything about it. Better safe than sorry.

He crosses the corner, passing the door that leads to the training ground. Just as he peaks around the frame of said door, he sees a body flying and hitting the wall with a mighty bounce, the poor enderman heaving heavily from the lack of air on their lungs. Their hands reach to their chest, having nothing to grab since everyone's attire in this cursed place is basically non-existent. It's probably hot in the End, where they come from, or endermen just can’t feel cold at all, but here all that skin showing is just impractical and extra beyond belief.

“Ugh. You can rest.” The enderman wheezes something unintelligible on ender, and the man that launched them like a ball sighs.

Dream stands in the middle of the arena, posture on edge with pent-up energy needing to be released. He's wearing baggy clothes, a hoodie and some pants for a change, with his hair tied back and his tail wrapped tightly to his waist. He's barefoot, like always, and his arms are covered by arm guards that seem to be both light and durable, the metal unknown to Punz. His wings look to be recently preened, though he can begin to see broken feathers around the edges of the connection between the wings and the neck, probably from scratching.

“Looking for a sparring partner?”

The blonde immediately perks up, his feathers standing on edge at the sound of his voice and shaking a bit with little vibrations. He can't help his smile when he feels the warrior’s attention on him, only a feeling since his eyes are covered up, as always.

“Yes, finally.”

“Your retainers can't keep up, I assume?” Punz looks to the side, observing how the poor enderman that was launched like a ragdoll is helped up by another one, much more taller than any one he has ever seen, and made to sit at the side on the floor. Among them, a third one looks from the side, smaller than them and absolutely relieved that they don't have to set foot in the arena.

He notices that the tall one has a limp, so probably they already tasted Dream’s beating.

The man grunts as an answer, which, fair enough. These three enderlings are the last demand imposed by his almighty father that pissed him off this hectic week. In name they're bodyguards, but seeing that they're guarding Dream of all people, they are more like nannies, probably to appease Ex-Dee’s concerned mind about his ‘little baby boy’.

Sometimes he wonders if he even knows how condescending that sounds. Specially referring to Dream.

The blonde removes his arm guards, revealing marked and scarred skin, a testament of what type of man he's dealing with. A survivor.

The only thing he gets to do is remove his cape before Dream comes to him with a vengeance.

Dream is strong. Dream was strong. He has always been strong, from body to mind. But he's different now, a different type of strong that, even though he doesn't have to, he fears nonetheless.

He raises his arm to block punches and kicks, feeling like someone wielding a war hammer instead of naked fists and barefoot kicks. He feels as if attacked by three assailants instead of one. Cornered by steel and fire instead of just the might of one man.

He gets kicked on the side of the leg and braces for impact. He doesn't get to touch the ground, the arm on the back of his robe prevents it. He gets choked when his friend raises him to a standing position.

“You're slow.”

“You're just too damn fast, man.” He has been perfecting his mask since his first job, especially this last year. It feels like second nature to hide the limp. “Anyway, you didn't even let me warm up, is that how you greet me?”

“I’ll make sure to send an invitation beforehand. Want a rose with it, too?”

“Make it a poppy.” Punz sits in the arena, careful to not land on his wrong foot.

He's stronger, like a storm is strong. Naturally strong, instead of strong from training. Dream has been living hell on earth in the prison, he knows that. This strength, even after a year recovering, is abnormal.

He fears that Ex-Dee did something to him while he wasn't looking. He fears that…

Dream smiles. A tiny, shaking thing, as if he has forgotten how one does so. And in an instant, is gone, replaced by that serene but empty expression, only his mouth visible through feathery wings that represent his divinity. He hasn't seen his smile in some weeks now, and it has lasted even less than the last time.

He fears that he's losing him. To what, exactly, he isn't sure.

“Come join me, let your little friends rest.” He pats the ground next to him. An invitation.

Dream doesn't even look at the three enderlings, all perked up and terrified by being acknowledged. Those three are always shaking on their boots, everytime the blond so much as breathes in their direction. If he were a lesser man, he would think that Dream beats them on the regular, but he knows he usually takes his rage on those dummies that Ranboo seems hellbent on producing daily.

He probably has run out of them today, and since the teen isn't here to make more or take his mind to other things, he has turned to the last thing he had at hand.

Speaking of.

“Ranboo isn't here?”

“No. Probably seeing Tubbo and Michael.” The blonde sits on the ground, his legs and knees bending ominously. He was expecting a crack somewhere, to be honest. “Since they warned everyone this morning I guess now they are just making sure everyone is okay.”

“Are you… okay with that?”

The demigod shrugs. “DreamXD isn't bothered by it, more amused than anything.”

“That wasn't my question, though.”

Dream stares at him, as much as he can with his eyes covered up. It feels like a wall between them, when even the mask was incapable of that.

It's a horrible thought, but he sometimes regrets talking him out of cutting them off.

“It's fine. They are… nice. They probably can't stomach feeling like they're hurting anyone. They’re… soft.” He can see the way Dream had to formulate his words and change them. How he definitely meant to say ‘weak’ instead. He only changed because he was referring to another person.

“They are quite sentimental, uh? Maybe too much.”

He closes his mouth the moment he feels eyes on him. Even if he can't see them, he knows the look Dream is giving him.

He has tried to warn him about Ranboo. They're a liability, and can't be trusted. Even if they can now follow orders better and their ender powers are really useful, they can do more harm than good. DreamXD is too self-assured, and the rest of the endermen are too scared to do anything behind his back. Dream is the only one who has any power to do something about them.

But it is not use. Is like talking to a wall.

… Most of their interactions lately is like talking to a wall. A wall that resembles his friend.

“How’s the castle going?” Better to change the subject for now.

They both are great tiptoeing around problematic subjects.

“Too slow for my taste.”

“That's pretty broad of a description.”

Dream grunts, annoyed. Punz just smiles for the both of them.

“I’m… concerned about Bad and Ant getting near the portal. With the castle builded, that won't happen.”

“Yeah, that was… something. But I’m more concerned with the egg being… gone. Just like that.”

The blonde hums, moving their head to the side a little, the only sign of being pensative.

“If DreamXD has truly taken care of it, then better for us, I guess.”

The hint of doubt is the only sign of being… maybe doubtful of the entity's methods. He never was comfortable in leaving the work for others, especially without looking at the results himself later.

But this ruins, the castle, this work in process is his golden cage, so he can't leave to check

These training grounds are one room from the dozens that make a system of underground tunnels of enderling ruins. Is where they have been hiding this last year, planning and working until the portal could be opened. It’s very, very far away from the Dream SMP, and the only way to reach this far and this deep is through teleportation.

So, if one would want to leave, without this ability, they would need someone else to carry them. And Dream is the prince, not the king. He won’t be getting out of here unless Ex-Dee lets him go.

So not happening anytime soon.

“... I could check it for you?” Punz is deemed so irrelevant to the god, that he has free range to leave as he pleases. It feels like it should be the other way around.

“... Don't worry, it's not worth it.”

But Dream doesn’t want him to leave. Not now with everyone knowing they're working together. He's fine staying here, if that's what Dream wants, but if even he doesn't want to be here then… what's the point?

His hand under the glove itches, but he leaves it, ignores it.

He hums.

Is a simple melody, a lullaby, just to fill the silence that, once upon a time, Dream would have filled with chatter. It feels like he's working for the both of them, like he's feeling something for the both of them.

He really, really wishes he took Dream’s hand that day that he saw him after the prison, his stare so lost and heartbroken in a tiny room, and ran with him far, far away from here. No cities, no countries, no favours, no gods.

He wishes, even if it's cruel, that Dream had no father.

It's better than this.