Archive of Our Own

Once, in a far away land, there was a ruler with a silken tongue, born of Death herself, who had carved out his kingdom in land not his own. He had called on the help of a mighty warrior, known and feared, a friend of his ancient father. With the warrior on the battlefield, the ruler’s victory was swift.

But the ruler broke his promise to the warrior, that all would be free.

The warrior took up arms against the ruler, enraged at the betrayal. The ruler’s father pleaded that neither harm the other. But using magic that was not his own, the ruler cursed the warrior and he was transformed into a beast and banished to the forest surrounding the castle. The ruler’s father, saddened by the events but not willing to choose, fled the kingdom. Dark magic twisted the trees of the forest as the cursed warrior stalked through it, waiting for the day the curse might be broken.

“Apparently the forest is cursed or something and there’s a monster that eats anyone who goes in it,” said Punz, looking out the window of the carriage as it bumped along the road. Trees with pale bark and twisting roots and limbs lined the road, their branches hanging low, occasionally grazing the roof of the carriage.

It looked cursed. Dream had thought it was colder ever since they passed the border where the fields turned into thick forest. He had never been this far before, had never gone more than a hundred feet past the border. The rational part of his brain said it was because the sickly green leaves blocked out the sun but the animal part of his brain trembled, imagining predators stalking between the trunks and wondering if the old draft horse pulling the carriage could out run anything at all. He shivered and frowned.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that,” he said, finally pulling his gaze away from the window. He started to tugged the velvet curtain closed but that darkened the carriage’s cab and he stopped. “But would they really let people travel through it like this if that was true? I mean, maybe—maybe Wilbur would but still.”

Punz lifted his shoulders in a shrug, still looking out the window.

“It’s the road. They said it’s magic but if you leave it, you’ll never be seen again.”

Dream assumed ‘they’ had been the Bramglen emissary who had brought the invitation. He hadn’t been listening then. The invitation was addressed to the king  from Wilbur himself but George was sleeping later and later each day and Dream knew what that meant. It was never supposed to be his job, the subtle talks over a banquet table, but when the king slept, it fell to him. He pulled back the curtain and glanced out the window, down at the road. Brambles with blue flowers lined the packed dirt and gravel lane which felt appropriate.

“Well, I guess that’s one way to make sure no one would try to attack the castle,” said Dream as he settled back. The castle had been built after the war, before Dream’s time, and the only thing he was looking forward to about this trip was finally stepping foot in it, if only to get an idea of the defenses for when things went south.

The invitation should have been cause for optimism. The king and the rest of the council seemed to think so, leaving the knight as the only one who couldn’t shake the feeling something was off. Months of skirmishes and small clashes followed by meeting at a neutral spot on the border of the two lands as Bramglen pushed those boundaries further, only to extend an invitation to stay in the heart of the kingdom? Dream didn’t trust it. It felt too much like something he had considered doing in reverse. That thought made him uneasy.

“Yup.” Punz’s breath left a circle of fog on the window. “I think we’re almost there.”

Outside, the trees were thinning into scraggly, brown grass dotted with rocks and equally scraggly shrubs. Just as suddenly as the trees had vanished, the wall appeared, its base built out of black stone and lightening as it stretched upward. The gradient was striking and disquieting. The wooden gate was two stories high and stood open. The carriage slowed slightly as they passed through and Dream could see one of the Bramglen escorts that had been riding along with them from the border leaning down from his horse, speaking to the guard at the gate. They would be expected.

The carriage continued at a slower pace as they made their way through the city that sat in front of the castle and Dream abandoned any pretense of disinterest, leaning forward to watch the buildings pass. They were a mix of wood and stone, most of the lighter grey though a few buildings here and there were constructed of the black stone, carved into bricks. Almost all the buildings flew the Bramglen flag and Dream noted the black buildings bore the crest above the doors. People stopped to watch the carriage and Dream resisted the urge to pull back each time.

Like the trees, the buildings began to thin out and the cobblestone road widened. Ahead was the castle, the black spires rising above the stone wall, flags whipping in the window. The castle sat back against the wall that formed the main wall of the city, the forest just beyond, and another section of wall jutted out from that, cutting the castle off from the city. The large wooden doors of the gate stood open, flanked by guards. The carriage passed through the gate and jerked to a full halt and Dream started to reach for the door handle but stopped as the voice of their escort drifted back, telling the guard to check the seal. Dream exchanged a look with Punz who shrugged.

“They obviously know we’re coming,” he said.

“Well, yeah,” agreed Dream because there was nothing else he could say to that.

A new voice rang out, louder than the rest, as if intentionally trying to be heard by anyone inside the carriage.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen, what’s the hold up? This isn’t how we should be treating our esteemed guests, now is it?”

The response to that was muffled and Dream was unable to make out what was being said but the gates creaked open and the carriage jerked forward about a dozen feet then stopped once again. The gate shut with a loud thud. Punz straightened their white tunic emblazoned with the crest of Iridal and opened the carriage door, hopping out. Dream itched to follow but there was protocol to adhere to. He pulled the mask that had been pushed to sit askew on top of his head for the trip here down over his face. He grabbed the standard that had been carefully tied up and clung to it like it was his axe.

Punz announced, “Knight Dream, of Iridal, proxy of King George.”

His breath behind the mask was quick and shallow, condensation already forming on the porcelain inside. Dream hated this. He had his armor but no weapon. There would be no fight, only talking, and he already felt antsy even as he stepped out of the carriage. The cord that held the standard wrapped up stuck for a moment but on the third try, Dream managed to unfurl it, holding it out next to him, slightly in front. The king, even when he wasn’t present, always went first.

“Welcome, welcome.” The voice was the same from earlier and the owner was a short man with jet black hair sticking out from beneath a small feathered cap. Gold adorned his outfit in all the places gold could be placed – buttons and clasps – some where it didn’t seem to fit. He smiled, eyes darting behind round glasses, their lenses tinted dark. “It’s such an honor to have you. Of course, we were all… disappointed to hear that the king couldn’t make it. I mean, that’s almost an insult, if you think about it.”

Dream tightened his grip on the wooden pole of the standard, making it sway slightly, as he tried to remember the man’s name. He had met him before but for some reason, he was drawing a blank. Next to him, Punz opened his mouth but the man waved a hand.

“Don’t worry about it. Things happen, we understand,” he said. His smile was wide and toothy. “We understand so let’s not stand here all day! You’re our guests, so let me do the honor of escorting you inside.”

Something in the words felt off and Dream was thankful his frown was hidden behind the mask. The man turned and began to walk across the courtyard. The polite thing to do would be to ask his name and apologize for forgetting but Dream didn’t care enough for that. He wanted to get through this as quickly as possible. His eyes darted around the courtyard, noting the guard towers on the wall and the stable against the wall with a service gate and what had to be the barracks for the castle guard with a service gate beyond it, on the outer wall. Like the man’s words, there was something about the castle and the layout that felt almost fake.

It's like if someone designed a castle without really knowing how one works, he thought as they walked up the wide staircase. Guards flanked the doors and they moved to open them as the group approached.

Dream’s boots tapped against the polished stone floor. His arm felt heavy from holding the standard. He looked over at Punz who had shoved his hands into his pockets, only giving the inside of the castle a cursory glance. How they were so calm when this was just as far out of their normal duties as it was for Dream, he didn’t know.

The group passed through an archway that was also flanked by guards into a small waiting room. Benches with gold and black cushions lined two of the walls. On the other wall was a door, smaller but more intricate than the castle’s main doors. Guards also stood on either side and behind them hung the flag of Bramglen. In his chest, Dream could feel his heart beat faster; all the lines he had been told to say felt like they were slipping away.

If I fuck up, there’s no way George can blame me. I told him.

The door was opened and the man with the hat lead them inside. The room was all black and gold and white and it felt like Dream’s eyes were drawn in half a dozen different places. There were ornate pillars and colored swags of fabric strung between them at the top. On the walls, set between the pillars, were mosaics. Dream slowed as he passed. The first mosaic showed a figure clearly meant to be Wilbur shaking hands with a man in armor with flowing pink hair, overseen by a winged figure. Another was a battle scene, pink haired man standing atop a pile of defeated enemies. The next scene had Wilbur crying perfectly shaped tears made of lapis as he held a book in one hand, the other outstretched towards the pink-haired man who was being engulfed in light. Their escort cleared his throat and Dream looked the front of the room and the raised dias.

No one was sitting on the chair with its garish yellow-gold cushions but a man Dream recognized immediately was standing behind it, arms crossed along the back and chin resting on top. As soon as he looked at the group he straightened and smiled. It was performance.

“Wilbur, the emissaries from Iridal are here,” said the short man with the hat.

Punz, who had been about to open his mouth and announce them, frowned and turned to Dream. Dream shook his head just a little. It wasn’t worth getting off on the wrong foot.

“Oh, wonderful! I’m just… so glad that you could make it,” Wilbur said as he moved around the chair to stand in front of it. “I was worried that you wouldn’t accept. I know how tense things have been.”

Behind the mask, Dream rolled his eyes. There were so many things he could have said. He wanted to ask why things had been so tense, wanted to watch Wilbur justify Bramglen’s encroachment of their land, the harassment of their citizens, but that’s not why he was here. He swallowed that bitterness down.

“On behalf of King George, we—we thank you for having us and the king sends his deep regrets for not being able to attend,” said Dream and he was thankful he only tripped over his words once.

Wilbur tapped his fingers against the arm of the chair before sitting down, one leg stretched out in front of him.

“Yes, that is disappointing,” he said, “but I won’t lie, I’ve been looking forward to meeting with you, Dream. You’re such an enigma! Really, I’m glad you’ve come. I hope we can accomplish a lot, you and I. But don’t let me bore you with talk, there’s time for that later. I’m sure you’re craving a bit of a rest after your journey. Why don’t you relax, we’ll have a chat over dinner before getting down to the real business. Quackity will show you to your rooms.”

That was his name, thought Dream, with an inward groan that was only partially aimed at his forgetfulness and mostly about the situation in general.

The hope that they could get down to business immediately and each say their piece and that Dream could be on his way by tomorrow morning was dashed. It had never been a realistic hope but that hadn’t stopped Dream from clinging to it. He wondered if there was some excuse he could give to skip dinner that wouldn’t read like an insult and came up empty.

Dream said, “Thank you.”

The room Dream had been directed to was dark, the black stone seeming to absorb all the light from the lanterns. It was lavish with the gold fixtures and silk bedding but exactly the sort of lavish that held no real comfort. Even the chair next to the fireplace was oddly uncomfortable, the back arched in a strange way that made Dream shift constantly as he sat. Punz had been given their own room and Dream had considered going over simply to have something to do but on the way up, he had noticed guards stationed at the end of the hall.

It made sense. Nothing was strange about that but it made Dream wary that any movement would be reported back to Wilbur and his court and over-analyzed and picked apart.

I’m the one over-analyzing right now, he thought, turning his mask over in hands.

Everything was going exactly as George had predicted it would go, as the other advisors had said it would go. This was Wilbur testing them out, seeing how willing they were to come to a solution, and likely nothing more than that. There would be no agreement this trip. He would give the same lines about how they’re not willing to secede their land but perhaps work out trade and travel treaties. They would give the same lines about who had begun to develop the area and if that meant they had the right to govern it or not. Then Dream would go home, give his report, and it would probably still end in conflict. It was just that no one wanted to be the first one to escalate their small skirmishes to outright war.

Dream was tired of it.

Dream was just tired.

The clock above the fire place said it was still a few hours before dinner was likely to be served. He thought about lying down for a bit, wondering if the bed would be as strangely uncomfortable as the chair was. At least the blankets looked truly plush even if the mattress might not be up to anyone’s standards. Instead, he got up and began to pace. As tired as he felt, his mind was racing and he knew he wouldn’t be able to quiet it even for a couple hours of sleep.

He walked over to the dresser that had a pitcher and bowl on top. The ceramic pitcher was cool to the touch and when he picked it up, the water inside sloshed around. Dream poured some into the bowl then dipped his hands in, cupping his palms. He splashed the water over his face, blinking. It didn’t help much. He turned and began pacing back forth, fingers tapping restlessly against his thighs.

Stopping at the window, Dream leaned over the stone sill, nose almost touching the glass. The sunlight made him squint. He could see the castle grounds and the city and beyond that, the dark forest stretching out for what seemed like forever. In a weird mimicry of the castle, he could see two trees that were taller than the others and of the two, one that twisted upwards high enough that it looked unnatural. Dream shivered. He wasn’t one to believe old tales but from this viewpoint, he almost did.

Dream had replaced his armor with a dark green jacket trim with black and gold embroidery. He had buttoned it tightly and tugged the sleeves down as far as they would go. The armor would have been more comfortable but wearing armor to a diplomatic dinner would’ve been rude enough to cause an incident between the two kingdoms. He sighed, running his thumb over the edge of his mask before picking it up. It would also be rude to refuse to eat and he was hungry. Moving to stand in front of the mirror, Dream carefully positioned the mask to sit on top of his head, angled to the side. He tucked the leather strap beneath his ponytail to keep it secure. That would do.

The clock on the wall showed it was ten to six. Someone would be coming soon to escort him down to the banquet hall. It would have raised suspicion if he had left his room and wandered around, looking for the hall himself so instead Dream paced back and forth in front of the door. He paused twice to adjust his sleeves and his jacket, to smooth his hand over the chest and make sure the binder he wore wasn’t noticeable. He glanced at the clock at least half a dozen times and was about to risk breaking etiquette and go down himself, thinking that was better than being late, when there was a knock on his door.

He opened the door so quickly that the lanky person who had knocked jumped back in surprise. It took a moment for them to regain their composure, eyes darting anywhere but Dream. They bowed their head slightly.

“It’s, uh, it’s time for dinner,” they said and then clarified, “I mean, King Wilbur would like you to join him for dinner.”

Dream nodded, trying to remember if he had ever met them before. There was a vague familiarity but he couldn’t place it.

“Right.” He had been so anxious to get going that he had taken one step across the threshold when he realized he had forgotten the standard. He bit down on the inside of his check, mentally cursing himself. The standard was meant to go everywhere he went: it was the physical representation of the king while the king slept.

Muttering a ‘one second’, Dream grabbed the standard and held it at his side, a little bit in front of himself, just like he was supposed to. He nodded at his escort, wondering if there was any meaning behind the duel colored tunic they wore over their clothing. The man with the hat hadn’t worn anything like it.

“Ah.” They looked at the standard but said nothing, turning down the hall. “If you would just follow me.”

Dream started down the hall then paused.

“What about Punz? The person who came with me?” he asked. There had been the driver and the two guards as well but he knew they would be hosted in the guard barracks. Punz had been brought to the same floor as him.

“Oh, I think they’re already downstairs. I’ll check but I was just told to come get you, that’s all.”

Part of him wanted to protest. Dream hadn’t seen the exact room that Punz had been brought to but he knew it was down the hall from his room; he could knock until someone answered because he was certain they were the only guests currently staying in the castle. That would definitely be crossing some sort of line into outright rudeness so Dream swallowed the sarcastic comment and nodded.

“Thanks.” He cleared his throat. “Uh, actually. What’s your name? I don’t think we’ve met.”

They seemed so taken aback by the question that they came to a halt and looked directly at Dream for the first time, their heterochromatic eyes wide.

“It’s Ranboo,” they said and that’s all they said before continuing down the stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs, they turned in the opposite direction from where Dream had come from. The hallway was short, ending in a T-section that connected to a much larger and more ornate hallway. Dream glanced down both directions before following after his guide as they turned to the right. The sound of voices echoed off the stone walls and ahead was a door with the doors propped open and guards on either side. He shook out his free hand, wishing he could do the same for the hand holding the standard – his palm was already sweating – and followed the person into the dinning hall.

The chairs at the table were almost all occupied. Punz was already there, sitting next to a member of the court Dream didn’t recognize and looking uncomfortable. They nodded in Dream’s direction when they noticed him enter. The other people sitting at the table fell silent. Dream recognized some of them: Wilbur, the king with his wide smile and his right-hand man, Tommy, the teenager who snickered when he looked at Dream and Tommy’s friend, Tubbo. All people he had dealt with in the past year more than he would’ve liked. Quackity was also seated at the table and Ranboo hurried to take their seat, near Tommy. Sweat made the back of Dream’s neck damp, pieces of his hair sticking to his skin. He would given anything to be anywhere but here.

“There he is! The man of the hour!” Wilbur spread his arms wide, still seated, then gestured to the empty chair across from him. It was the only one left. “Take a seat, please. Dinner is about to be served.”

Dream looked at the chair and adjusted his grip on the standard once more. He moved parallel to the chair and then turned and walked to the wall, carefully leaning the standard against the polished stone, directly behind his chair. It started to slide and he righted it, hand hovering for a moment until he was certain that it wouldn’t slide again.

“Would you like for me to have a stand brought?” asked Wilbur. There was an undercurrent of amusement to his words that Dream wasn’t fully sure he hadn’t imagined.

“No, it’s—” Pulling out his chair, Dream sat. “It’s fine. It’s the king’s standard since George isn’t here.”

It was stating the obvious and Wilbur smiled and it was certainly patronizing. Dream resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Yes, it’s such a shame that he wasn’t able to join us but honestly, I couldn’t be too disappointed,” Wilbur said. He waved a hand and wait staff appeared from one of the alcoves with bottles of wine on silver trays. “We’ve never really had much of a chance to talk, have we, Dream?”

“Not really,” said Dream, watching as a glass of wine was placed on the table next to the plate. It was a dark, almost blood red color. “Well, to be fair, this isn’t really my job but G—King George didn’t want anyone else doing this.”

There hadn’t been anyone else. Maybe Sapnap could have been the emissary but he wasn’t interested and after him, there wasn’t another good choice. The court of Iridal had always been small.

“Of course he wouldn’t and who could blame him? Who better than his most trusted knight?” Wilbur smiled then took a sip of his wine. “Now, I’m sure you’ve looked over the treaty our people sent?”

Dream pushed his glass away. His mouth was dry and he didn’t want to be tempted.

“I did. It’s still Iridal’s stance that we’re not—We’re not going to give up any of our land. I mean it’s been part of our kingdom since the beginning, before George and me. Before you—before you started your, uh, campaign to expand your kingdom,” Dream said, his stutter growing worse. Everyone at the table was looking at him. “But, uh, since you have people living there with some of our people we can talk about maybe a—a—lease or something.”

Wilbur hadn’t taken his eyes off Dream, even as he drank his wine and set the glass back down. It clinked against the plate. Next to him, Tommy, leaned over and whispered something to Tubbo. They both gave a quiet chuckle. Dream felt his cheeks go hot. He wanted to snap at them, ask what was so funny, but he bit his tongue.

“That is something to consider,” Wilbur said. He leaned in his chair, looking towards one of the alcoves along the wall of the dinning room. He raised a hand. “But perhaps we should eat first before we get into the meat of the subject. I’m sure you’re hungry, what after that long journey.”

A rumble grew in the pit of Dream’s stomach, as if on cue. He had been hungry for awhile but hadn’t noticed, focused on other things.

“Yeah, sure.”

It was a few moments of awkward silence with Dream shifting in his seat uncomfortably and exchanging looks with Punz before castle staff emerged from the doors set back in the alcove, carrying trays. He could smell tomato and onion and garlic. A bowl was set down on the gold charger plate, steam curling off the red liquid. There was a pile of something green and leafy in the middle and grated cheese sprinkled on top of that. Dream reached for his spoon but paused, watching the other people at the table. Tommy had already begun to violently stir his soup but Ranboo was twisting their hands together at the edge of the table.

“Please, you don’t have to wait on account of me.” Wilbur lifted his spoon. “For the moment, consider us equals.”

The wording didn’t escape Dream and he gave a tight smile. They weren’t equals, not strictly speaking, and Dream got the feeling that Wilbur had taken issue with Dream being so out spoken in the past. Out spoken and angry when he saw the way Wilbur and his people seemed to disregard the rules that had been in place in their land for so long. George had told him to keep it cool more than once, even during the border skirmishes. Dream wrapped his fingers around the spoon.

“Of course,” said Dream, fighting to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “I mean, I am technically George’s proxy, so. It makes sense.”

Wilbur smiled. Tommy snickered and whispered something to Tubbo again, both of them looking towards Dream. Tubbo laughed but tried to muffle the sound with his hand. It was getting harder for Dream not to say anything and instead, he took a spoonful of soup and shoved it into his mouth. It was hot and tangy. He took another bite, well aware of how many people were looking at him.

“How was your journey?” Wilbur asked the moment Dream had put the spoon in his mouth.

Swallowing hurriedly, Dream shrugged.

“It was fine. I’ve spent a lot of time out this way, anyway.” The words were pointed. All the conflict had meant that a lot of Dream’s duties had been to deal with the issues cropping up on the border. “So, I’m used to some of the trip already.”

The smile on Wilbur’s face grew with a flash of white teeth but it didn’t reach his eyes. Dream shifted uncomfortably in his seat again.

“I hope this time the reason is more pleasant at least.”

It wasn’t but Dream couldn’t say that and so he smiled and took another bite of soup.

The dinner plates had been cleared.

Dream rolled the stem of his wine glass between his fingers. It hadn’t been refilled, he had been sipping at it the entire time, but he could feel a buzz in his head. He wasn’t sure if it was the strong wine or the stress of having to watch each word he said, afraid it would be taken the wrong way. Dream had always been good at talking – George had sent him here for a reason – but something about Wilbur threw him off and he didn’t like it. Tipping the glass a little, Dream watched the wine slosh around and was debating taking another sip or downing the whole damn thing but someone cleared their throat.

“Sorry, but, uh, did you want me to get the papers now or….?”

Ranboo looked surprised that they had spoken and cringed visibly when Wilbur turned his attention to them. Dream picked up his wine glass and drank until it was empty.

"After dessert, don’t you think?” It was phrased like a question but Wilbur’s tone made it clear that it was anything but. “Or does our guest want to do politics over desserts?”

Clearing his throat, Dream sat his glass down. He felt as if to Wilbur there was an obvious right answer but Dream’s patience had gone and there was the beginnings of a headache in its place. He shrugged.

“I don’t mind. I mean, it’s—it is what I’m here for,” he said.

Someone at the table coughed awkwardly.

“Politics and dessert it is!” Wilbur waved a hand at Ranboo and they scrambled to their feet, head bowed as they hurried out one of the side doors. Turning back to Dream, Wilbur said, “Of course, I had hoped that you would come to enjoy our company while you’re here.”

That’s a trap, thought Dream. There was no good answer he could give. If he said he was enjoying the company, it was an opening for concession. If he said otherwise, he would be painted as hostile and uncooperative. Dream turned over his options in his head before settling on the only thing he could come up with.

“Well, to be fair, it’s barely been a day…”

Tommy snorted.

“Master of the obvious, that one,” he said in a stage whisper to Tubbo.

Dream felt his cheeks go hot. His headache was now full blown and mixed badly with the glass of wine and his low alcohol tolerance. He studiously ignored Tommy, looking in Wilbur’s direction but not exactly at him.

“You do have a point, Dream.” Wilbur turned at the sound of the door opening again but it wasn’t the door Ranboo had gone through. The staff entered the room with another set of trays, this time with carrying what looked like little pies or tarts. Wilbur clapped his hands together. “I guess it’s dessert first.”

The staff member set the dessert plate in front of Dream. He glanced over at Punz, wishing he had protested the seating arrangements. He wanted to be able to lean over and talk to them, have someone he knew at his side. Punz caught his eye and gave a half-shrug before reaching for the pitcher of wine to refill their cup. Part of Dream wanted to follow suit but he knew that he needed to keep a clear head as much as possible. He shifted in his seat, movement from down the table catching his eye, but then Wilbur raised his voice.

“Ah, Ranboo! Just in time,” he said as he leaned back in his chair, holding out a hand. Ranboo stopped next to him, a stack of parchment carried awkwardly in their arms. “We can have politics and dessert, after all. Let me see…”

Wilbur took some of the papers and spread the papers across the table, almost knocking over his wine glass. Ranboo caught it at the last minute. Sitting forward, Dream pushed his untouched dessert to the side and rested his arms on the edge of the table. This was the entire point of the trip. His headache was growing, pounding in his temples, and now it was accompanied by slight nausea and the smell of something burning.

“Oh. Oh, no,” said Ranboo, dropping the rest of the papers they were still holding, eyes on a point beyond Dream.

Something was burning. Laughter rung out.

Dream turned in his seat. The standard was on fire, flames licking up from the bottom. Next to it, Tommy was laughing as if it was the funniest thing in the world. Dream stood so fast that his chair fell backwards. He grabbed the pitcher of wine and tossed it onto the flames. The standard slid and clattered to the ground. Most of them went out and the ones that remained, Dream stomped out. Tommy was still laughing. Without thinking, Dream raised his hand, curled in a fist. The grin on Tommy’s face disappeared.

“Stop!”

Wilbur’s voice was loud, ringing out through the dining room. He was on his feet, as was half the table, including Punz. Dream dropped his arm to his side and stepped back from Tommy, bending to pick up the standard. The fire had spread fast across the mix of silk and cotton and what was left was blackened. Dream held onto the pole of the standard so hard that his fingers hurt.

“Do you—He set George’s—The king’s standard on fire! That’s—That’s a blatant disrespect!” Tommy snickered again and Dream turned to face him. “Do you think this is fucking funny?”

The room was deadly silent.

“We can sit and discuss this,” said Wilbur.

At the same time, Tommy said, “Yeah!”

Dream’s head was pounding. It felt like his thoughts were being shaken around and he couldn’t manage to hold on to one.

“This—This is an-an act of aggression! You basically just fucking threatened the king! That’s our law! You—” Dream glanced around the room, chest rising and falling rapidly, before turning back to Tommy. “I challenge you to a duel. That’s—That’s the only way.”

Punz had made their way around the table, face flushed, eyes constantly darting between Dream and Wilbur. The room was no longer silent but full of murmurs and they had to raise their voice to be heard.

“Dream, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” they said.

It wasn’t a good idea. Dream knew that. He also knew that the only other option was leaving immediately and escalating from small skirmishes on the border to all out war. He opened his mouth to explain that but Tommy spoke first.

“I accept,” he said. “I accept the challenge.”

The chatter in the room grew louder and most eyes had turned to Wilbur, waiting for him to weigh in. He placed his palms onto the table, the papers still sitting there, and gave a deep sigh.

“I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do. The challenge has been issued and accepted. The duel will be tomorrow at noon, if both participants agree.”

Tommy looked at Dream with a grin.

“I do,” he said.

A strange sense of dread that might have been the wine hit Dream but he nodded his head.

“I do.”

The sun was bright, glinting off of Tommy’s armor and making Dream squint. The crowd that gathered murmured quietly as they waited for Wilbur to take his place in the wooden stands. They had been painted blue and red and looked garish from where Dream was standing. He shifted on his feet, toeing at the sand. The arena felt unused, the ground unpacked by jousting matches or heavy, armored boots stomping it down. He would have to account for that in all his movements.

On the other side of the arena, Tommy was joking with someone in the crowd. Dream couldn’t make out exactly what was being said but it was accompanied by more than a few rude gestures so he could take an educated guess. It annoyed him. He wanted to shout, ask why this was all a joke to him, to say that being young wasn’t an excuse for all this but Dream knew it would fall on deaf ears. That’s why he was here, trying to come to an agreement, when the solution felt so obvious to him.

Wilbur raised his arms and the murmur of the crowd fell to silence.

“Welcome, my friends,” he said, pausing for the cheers to rise and fall. Even at a distance, Dream could see he was smiling. “I wish we were gathered today under better circumstances. A challenge has been issued, by Dream, of Iridal, against Tommy, of our Bramglen.”

The cheers turned to boos and jeers. Dream tightened his grip on the sword he had been given; it was poorly weighted and the edges were deliberately blunted. He kept his gaze ahead, unfocused.

“Tommy has accepted the challenge.” At the words, Tommy raised a hand and gave a whoop, the crowd echoing it. Wilbur’s expression of disappointment and the sad smile disappeared into a grin. But only for a moment. “The duel will be conducted by the standard rules and called by the court scribe, Ranboo.”

Dream frowned. He had noticed Ranboo, in the stands on the side, hunched awkwardly and twisting their hands together, but hadn’t thought much of it. If he had been thinking clearer, he would’ve demanded an explanation of the rules and to have Punz also stand to judge the fight. Anger had clouded his judgement but backing out now wasn’t an option; losing would be more honorable.

“Fighters, take your places.”

The red lines in the sand at each end the arena were still wet from the dye. Dream stepped forward, noting idly that the line wasn’t straight. He gave the borrowed sword another couple swings. It had been awhile since he used a sword over his axe, even longer since he used one so poorly made, but he didn’t feel nervous. An odd calmness had replaced his earlier anger. This was something that Dream understood. He knew how to fight.

Wilbur raised a hand, clutching a white handkerchief. The wind made it flap slightly in the breeze.

“May the best man win,” he said and lowered his arm.

It was Tommy that moved first. He crossed half of the arena and Dream noted that while his armor was good, he also held a similarly blunted and poorly made sword. The blade was notched in places. Something pricked at the back of Dream’s mind. He had been prepared for Tommy to be better equipped and the fact he wasn’t felt strange. Shaking away that thought, Dream slid one foot to the side. He had no shield and held the sword with both hands, angling it across his body as he watched Tommy approach, waiting for the first attack.

“Come on, Big D, aren’t you going to show me what you’ve got?” asked Tommy, sword almost vertical in front of him. He stepped to Dream’s side.

Heel digging into the sand, Dream turned to follow him, to keep his sword between him and Tommy.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared? Big man is scared to fight—”

Dream’s strike was quick. It caught Tommy off-guard. It almost caught Dream, who had been waiting to see Tommy’s attack style first, off-guard. The taunt had worked and Tommy had been able to parry but the parry was sloppy.

“What the fuck!”

Tommy stumbled backwards a couple paces and Dream pressed forward. The quicker he could end this, the quicker he could go home. It wouldn’t be fun explaining to George and the others what had happened but he would take that unpleasantness over the awkwardness of another politically charged dinner. He struck again and this time his dull blade met the shoulder of Tommy’s armor. If he had taken his time, the blow might have been the finishing one. Tommy swung at Dream, forcing Dream to jump back out of the way.

It had been a clumsy blow and a clumsy retreat but it emboldened Tommy. He made another swing, coming in high. Dream lifted his sword to meet the strike, the dull blades skittering against each other, and he pushed Tommy’s sword back and away. Neither of them moved back this time more than a couple inches. This close Dream could see the sweat and flecks of dirt on Tommy’s face. For a moment, he wondered if things could have been different.

Things weren’t different.

Tightening his grip, Dream took a step forward and swung low. The sword connected with Tommy’s side, still open from his previous strike. Tommy stumbled. Dream didn’t hesitate. He swung again. The sword hit his chest and moved upward with a screech of metal. It stopped when the flat of the blade hit Tommy’s chin, knocking his head back. His sword flailed wildly and hit Dream’s helmet. The sound made his ears ring. Dream blinked. Tommy hadn’t regained his balance.

I can finish this, he thought.

His foot kicked up sand as he stepped forward. He drove his sword straight into Tommy’s chest. The blunt tip hit with a thud and knocked Tommy to the ground. Dream stepped back, holding his sword at his side. He was suddenly aware of the stunned silence of the crowd that was quickly morphing into boos and jeers once more. Looking up, he could see Wilbur on his feet, smiling. At the sideline, Ranboo was looking back and forth nervously. They started to speak, stopped, then cleared their throat before starting again.

“The, uh, the winner is…” Ranboo winced. “Dream.”

The booing reached a crescendo. Dream had felt some relief at the end of the duel but now his heart was pounding. Wilbur held up a hand for silence and the crowd mostly complied. He was still smiling while Tommy got to his feet. He wiped a hand against his chin, smearing a bit of blood across his cheek.

“You really fucked up, Dream,” he said as he turned to face Wilbur.

Before Dream could ask what he meant by that, Wilbur was speaking.

“Blood has been spilled.” He paused and sighed, slowly shaking his head. “The rules of the duel have been broken. Our—”

The words finally hit Dream.

“WHAT?”

Turning, Tommy grinned at him.

“I told you.”

It felt as if the sand was moving under Dream’s feet. Something was wrong. His grip tightened on the borrowed sword. He looked back to Wilbur, desperate for an explanation.

“Our laws are clear,” said Wilbur. “There is no tolerance for breaking these rules.”

Dream’s mouth was dry, his tongue feeling as though it was too big for his mouth.

“What—I didn’t—You never said that! How was I supposed to know that was the rule,” Dream stuttered out. He glanced around, catching Punz’s gaze. They shrugged in confusion. “That’s not my fault!”

No one seemed moved by his words. Next to Wilbur, Quackity’s smile was all teeth. It made Dream want to scream but he knew that would only make things worse. He waited for the crowd to quiet and Wilbur to speak again.

“You initiated the duel on Bramglen land. You agreed to the rules.” Wilbur turned his hands palms upright. “I’m sorry, Dream, I do hate the way this turned out but you can’t expect me to break my kingdom’s laws, can you?”

Those were his words being thrown back at him and Dream’s hands were shaking. Anything he did right now would reflect badly on Iridal and would spiral into an excuse for all out war and give Bramglen an excuse to invade further. He had walked right into this.

“This is stupid,” said Dream, weakly.

Wilbur gestured to the guards that stood at the side of the arena and they moved towards Dream. For a brief moment, he thought about trying to fight his way out of this. The borrowed sword wouldn’t do much but if he could make it out of the arena, he could run, maybe steal a horse from the stable. Surely they would have a courier horse ready. Then he could ride, as fast as possible, until he was home.

“Don’t make this harder on yourself, Dream,” Wilbur said.

With a sigh, Dream dropped the sword. If he tried to run now, he would be leaving Punz behind and he couldn’t do that. The guards grabbed him roughly by the arms, making him wince as the armor pinched his skin, and they dragged him the arena.

Barefoot and stripped of his armor, Dream paced the cell. It was cold, the stone rough and uneven as he counted his steps – twelve – from one wall to the other. He had been taken to the dungeon by the guards on Wilbur’s command despite his protests. In the chaos, Dream hadn’t seen what happened to Punz and he could only hope that they had slipped away and would be able to tell someone. What would come out of that, he didn’t know. He was trying not to think of that.

Pausing his pacing, Dream tilted his head to the side. It was distant and hard to hear but the sound of a large, heavy door being opened and closed was unmistakable. He rubbed his hands together, trying to warm his fingers, and listened as the sound of footsteps got louder and closer. Dream took a step towards the bars of the cell. At the end of hall, the door that led to the small antechamber was just barely visible. He only moved back when he saw the door begin to open.

He tried to calm his nerves by guessing how many pairs of footsteps were coming down the hall. At least three people, maybe four. His heart was in his throat as the group came into view.

“Punz?”

There were two guards, Quackity, and Punz. Dream’s eyes flicked to Punz’s wrists, expecting to find manacles, but there was nothing; their hands were shoved into their pockets, their stance casual. A cold feeling washed over him. His head felt fuzzy.

“Wha—What’s going on?”

Quackity grinned, clapping his hands together.

“That’s a very good question, Dream, that’s a very good question,” he said, looking at Punz. Their face was impassive. Quackity looked back at Dream. “We have something we want from you – obviously – while you’re here.”

Half a dozen questions began swirling in Dream’s head. Punz was still just standing there, face betraying nothing. Dream took a step forward.

“But—What the fuck, Punz? Are you—Are you working with them now?” he asked though he already knew the answer.

Punz shrugged.

“They paid me better.”

It was stubbornness that kept Dream on his feet. He clenched his jaw and his fists.

“You—You betrayed me, George, the whole—the whole kingdom, for money? You are such a little bitch.”

The stoic expression on Punz’s face finally cracked, flashing with anger for a moment, and then rolling his eyes, the disdain exaggerated. Punz took a half step back and turned slightly away from Dream.

“Whatever you say, buddy.”

Quackity waved a hand.

“Let’s get down to business, shall we?” He was still smiling but it couldn’t hide the hint of annoyance in his voice. “We want something from you, Dream. It’s very, very simple. We have a new treaty that Wilbur has drawn up and you, the king’s proxy, are going to sign it.”

The dungeon was silent. Dream stared.

“No fucking way,” he said, finding his voice. “I’m not signing shit.”

Quackity’s smile grew wider. There was an eager glint in his eyes and without thinking, Dream took a step back.

“Oh, you’re going to sign it,” he said. He held out his hand towards Punz. Punz pulled their hand from their pocket and dropped a small object into Quackity’s palm that Dream recognized immediately. He held it up; a smooth wooden box, stained a deep brown and inlayed with gold. There were no visible seams or hinges. “You’re going to open this and you’re going to sign that treaty, Dream, or you’re going to be very fucking sorry.”

Dream looked at the box, wondering if he was quick enough to reach through the bars and grab it, but it would be impossible from the distance he was standing at. It wouldn’t matter, either, because they had armed guards and he had nothing. He should have hidden better though he supposed that wouldn’t have mattered either. Dream swallowed.

“You can’t open it without me.” The box containing his signet ring was enchanted. Any attempt to force it open would fail. And without his seal, any signature would be invalid. “So…”

The smile on Quackity’s face twitched.

“No fucking shit,” he snapped. “You have two options, Dream. You can either do this the easy way or the hard way. Me personally, I don’t fucking care what you choose.”

Dream believed him.

“I can’t sign it. I can’t. I won’t.”

Quackity shrugged. Punz didn’t look at him.

“You know, I thought you’d say that,” said Quackity. “Tell you what, I’ll let you sleep on it but if I come back here tomorrow and you don’t open this box and sign it? You’re going to be fucking sorry.”

There was no bed in the cell, though Dream didn’t think he would’ve been able to sleep even if there had been. He wasn’t stupid. He knew what Quackity meant by doing things the hard way. He also knew that if he signed that treaty and George didn’t honor it, it would be cause for outright war, and George wouldn’t honor it. Not that he wanted George to honor it; doing so would be giving up on all they had built and fought for to this point. Dream rubbed his hands over his face. 

“I’m going to die here,” he said to the empty cell.

The only answer was the sound of water dripping somewhere and the distant hum of the castle life. It made him feel deeply alone in a way that he couldn’t articulate. Somewhere, his friends were going about their day and they had no idea what was happening to him, not yet. When they learned, Dream didn’t know what would happen.

They might come for me.

It would mean war, but war seemed inevitable. Some part of him was hoping that he would hear news of a mounted rescue. He leaned back against the cold stone wall and stared at the iron bars until his eyes were dry and his vision was going blurry.

The familiar sound of a heavy door falling shut made Dream jerk upright. He tilted his head towards the exit of the dungeon – he had tried to remember everything about his surroundings as he was dragged down – and listened as closely as possible, certain of what he would hear. Footsteps became clear a few moments later and Dream tensed up. People were coming. Quackity’s promise was swirling in his head and his heart was pounding. It felt like an eternity before a group of four guards stopped in front of his cell. One had a different styled tunic over his armor and a ring of keys on his belt. He pulled it off, selected a key, and unlocked the cell.

“Get up,” he said, pulling the door open and moving back, out of the way.

Dream got to his feet. His limbs felt numb from sitting in one spot for so long. He stepped out into the hall and started to ask what was going on but the guard shoved him roughly.

“Move.”

Flanked by the guards, Dream walked down the hall and was stopped in the round room where the stairs leading up to the main portion of the castle were. Another hallway like the one he had come from was on the right of the stairs and on the left was a doorway, the wooden door open. With another shove, Dream was directed into the room.

Quackity was standing by a heavy wooden chair, leather straps on the arms and legs. A wide smile was on his face. Dream’s eyes darted around the room, trying to take in everything and make sense of it. There were weapons lining one of the walls and chains hanging from the ceiling and… things that Dream didn’t have a word for. Constructions of iron and wood with straps and chains and spikes. Dream felt light-headed.

“Dream! Have a seat, have a seat,” said Quackity, gesturing towards the chair, smile still on his face.

When Dream didn’t move, two of the guards dragged him forward and forced him down into the chair. His head and elbows hit the wood, sending spikes of pain jittering through his bones.

“What—What’s going on?” he asked, looking from the guards to Quackity, not sure that he wanted to know the answer.

The guards had moved away, two of them taking position at either side of the door on the inside, and the other two stepping out of the room to flank the outside. Quackity wandered over to the wall with the weapons, hands in his pockets, stance casual as he glanced back at Dream.

“Aw, don’t tell me you forgot already! Dream… I did tell you we’d have to do it the hard way,” he said, turning back to the wall and brushing his fingers over the rack of weapons. Quackity paused for a moment over an axe but then reached down and grabbed a knife with a long blade. He turned it over in his hand before walking back to the chair. “Don’t worry, though, we’ll start slow. We’ve got plenty of time.”

All the words, the pleas and protests that had been on the tip of Dream’s tongue died. Despite everything, he hadn’t truly believed this would happen.

“You—You can’t do this.”

His voice sounded weak and small. Quackity was still smiling as he placed the tip of the knife against Dream’s chest and slowly dragged it down until it was resting on Dream’s thigh. Lightly, he turned it back and forth for what felt like forever, until Dream was certain he was about to vomit, and then drove the knife into Dream’s leg.

“Oh, I can, Dream.” Quackity pulled the knife out with a twist, spraying blood. “I can.”

Dream had been dragged back to the cell, unable to stand, and dumped unceremoniously on the floor. They had poured some of Bramglen’s famed healing potion down his throat, the ones they carved out a monopoly on and were selling to the people of his land at a premium, and Dream was almost annoyed to find that they worked. The potion had stopped the worst of the bleeding, knit together the deepest of the wounds, but blood still seeped onto the floor beneath him.

The blood was sticky when a guard came by the cell again. He heard the rattle and scrapping of something being shoved through the small slot on the bottom of the door, but didn’t turn his head to look. Dream lay there for another moment or two, knowing that when he finally did move, it would hurt. That his limbs and muscles would be stiff from lying in the same position for so long and that all the small cuts still covering his arms and legs would pull and sting. He took a deep breath in and pushed himself up and to the side.

The movement caused some of the cuts to reopen and Dream could feel blood trickle down his arms. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to pass. It wasn’t the worst he had ever been hurt – he had been stabbed and thrown from a horse hard enough to break his arm and half a dozen other things – but something about the cause made this feel worse. Opening his eyes, he looked over to the door.

A tray sat on the floor in front of the slot. On it sat a small, battered tin cup with no handle and what looked like a potato. Dream’s stomach twisted. He hadn’t been fed since being brought to the dungeon and had barely ate the day of the duel. He was starving and so thirsty his lips were cracked. Pulling himself over, he picked up the cup and sniffed it. All he could smell was blood and wet and Dream decided that he didn’t care if it was poisoned or not. The water was the best thing he had tasted in what felt like forever. He held the cup upside down over his mouth and let the last drop fall into his mouth. The potato, on the other hand, wasn’t cooked and had sprouted a little but Dream did his best to ignore that and the bitter, starchy taste. He ate all of it.

I guess it could be worse, he thought and tried to push away the feeling it was going to get much worse before it was over.

The next day (it had to be the next day because Dream fell asleep and woke up but there was no real way to tell), Dream was curled on his side when he heard the sound the door opening and closing followed by footsteps. He didn’t move, watching the dimly light hall. A few moments later, four guards came into view and keys rattled as the door was opened. Two of the guards stepped inside the cell, one picking up the tray. The other walked over to Dream.

“Get up,” he said.

“N-no thanks,” said Dream. “I—I think I’ll stay right here.”

The guard kicked Dream, hard, in the stomach and caught part of his arm in the process. Dream drew in a sharp breath.

“Get up or we’ll get you up.”

Dream knew that it was pointless to resist. The guards would get him up, would drag him to that room, but he wasn’t in the mood to go easily. He was angry and hungry and in pain. He didn’t want to see Quackity’s smiling face as he cut into him.

“I really don’t feel like it,” he said, bracing himself for another kick.

This one caught him in the forehead and jerked his head back. His vision went white and his ears were ringing. When hands grabbed onto him and pulled him to his feet, Dream didn’t fight it. They dragged him down the hall and into the room. Quackity was already waiting, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows.

“Dream! It was taking so long, I was getting worried you didn’t want to spend time with me today,” he said, laughing as if he had told a hilarious joke.

Head still pounding, Dream rolled his eyes.

“Y-yeah, sorry about that, I was sleeping in.”

The smile Quackity’s face became tight, annoyance flashing in his eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry for interrupting your beauty sleep, Dream. I’m so sorry.” He stepped back. The chair was gone, something that Dream hadn’t noticed until that moment. The chains on the ceiling had been unhooked and were hanging down. “Here, how about I make it up to you? They always say it’s important to stretch in the morning!”

Quackity gestured for the guards to bring Dream forward and when they pulled his arms over his head, he struggled, muttering curses under his breath. It didn’t last long; one of the guards put his fist into Dream’s stomach, all the fight going out of him along with the air from his lungs. He gasped as they shackled his wrists, forcing him up on the balls of his feet.

“You—You don’t have to do that,” said Dream. His wrists and arms were already hurting. “I’m fine.”

The guards had taken their place by the door, faces impassive, almost bored, and something about that made a deep fear take root in Dream’s chest. Behind him, he could hear Quackity rooting around, metal clinking together.

“Oh, don’t worry, Dream, it’s no trouble. No trouble at all.”

Quackity’s voice came from right behind him and Dream tensed. He felt something cold and metal at the base of his neck then tugging on the stained and bloody shirt before it ripped. The fabric was torn away, exposing his back and Dream shivered when the cold air hit his skin. His heart was pounding in his throat and he wrapped his fingers around the chains.

Dream didn’t have to ask what was going to happen next.

A moment later, the whip struck across his back.

Dream had lost count of the days.

There was no light in the dungeon cell and the food and water didn’t come regularly enough for him to use that as a guide. He was always hungry and thirsty. A headache had settled on him at some point and hadn’t left. His stomach was sunken and his ribs were visible. The cell stunk, he stunk. Occasionally they would toss buckets of water on him. More often, he would be forced into a wooden tank of freezing water, Quackity holding his head under until his lungs were burning, only letting him up to catch a desperate breath before he was shoved back under.

It was amazing how many different ways there was to hurt a person, how many contraptions the room held that were built just for that purpose. Dream was almost impressed.

The door to the cell opened and Dream lifted his head. He hadn’t heard the big, heavy door that lead to the dungeon open or any footsteps. The only thing he heard was the pounding in his head. He stared blankly at the guards as they approached, one bending to pull him to his feet. He didn’t fight. He stumbled along, out of the cell and down the hall to the room where Quackity was waiting, the expression on his face deeply bored.

 “You look like shit, Dream,” he said.

A small, pained huff escaped Dream as the guard shoved him towards the chair.

“Yeah, well, fuck you,” said Dream. “It’s—It’s not like it’s my fault.”

He had barely gotten the words out before Quackity slapped him. Then slapped him again. His mouth filled with blood as his teeth caught his tongue and Dream spit it onto the ground. Some of it splattered onto Quackity’s shoes which earned him another slap, this one hard enough to bust his lip wide open.

“You know what? Fuck it, I was going to go easy on you today, Dream, but you just ruined any chance of that.”

Quackity held up a hand towards the guards and they stopped in the process of lowering Dream into the chair. A quip was on the tip of Dream’s bleeding tongue but it died when Quackity stopped in front of a device that was shoved into one corner of the room. It looked like an iron tube with hinges and a lock and a small slit around eye height. Quackity grabbed the handle and pulled it open, the hinges creaking. Inside, the surface of the tube was covered with short spikes.

“No—No, you’re not putting me in there. No fucking way,” said Dream, pulling back as best he could.

The bored look was gone from Quackity’s face replaced by a wide, malicious grin and he tilted his head back and forth like he was considering Dream’s words.

“What do you say, Dream? Hm?” asked Quackity.

It wasn’t a question; it was a game and Dream knew he couldn’t win but he had no other option but to play.

“Please—Please don’t put me in there.”

There was a sudden sharpness to Quackity’s smile and to his voice when he spoke.

“Please, what?”

The words were painful in Dream’s mouth.

“Please, s-sir.”

Quackity was silent for a moment and Dream felt a flair of hope. Then he patted the device like it was his favorite dog.

“Since you asked nicely, I’ll give you a tip, Dream. You really shouldn’t struggle. If they have to shove you in there, it’s not going to be fun! Well, not fun for you. It’ll be fun for me,” he said with a laugh.

Dream’s heart dropped. He was right. It looked like there was just enough room inside that a person could stand without being pierced by the spikes. The guards pushed him forward and turned him. Dream tried to keep himself from shaking, tried to keep the tears that were making his vision blurry from falling. He stepped up and back onto the bottom of the iron tube. The metal was cold on his bare feet. Dream held his arms straight at his side, fingers holding onto the hem of stained shirt that was too big for him.

Leaning into Dream’s field of view, Quackity wiggled his fingers at him.

“Try not to move.”

The door to the device swung closed and Dream could hear the lock clicking into place. It was dark, just a sliver of light falling across his face. He was light-headed. He felt like he couldn’t breath. The slightest movement and the tips of the spikes scratched against his skin. Already his legs were trembling a little, the lack of food catching up with him.

“I’ll be back later,” said Quackity and Dream listened to his footsteps retreat.

The only sound was his heart racing wildly and his tiny, ragged breaths.

Dream tried not to move.

When the door to the iron device finally opened, Dream fell to the floor. He was bloody, covered in scratches and puncture wounds. He pressed himself to the stone floor, sobbing and shaking. At some point, he had pissed himself and he wanted to be ashamed of that but he couldn’t form a coherent thought. His thoughts were a jumble of fear and relief, bouncing back and forth between each. The pain from all the tiny injuries that covered almost every inch of his body barely registered nor did the soreness in his legs from standing for so long. That hadn’t been the worst of it either; the tight space, for hours, that made it hard to breathe had been worse than anything so far.

Quackity nudged him roughly with his foot.

“You didn’t listen, huh? I told you not to move. Tsk, tsk, Dream,” he said, voice full of mock sympathy. He knelt down and gripped Dream by the hair and pulled his head up. “What do you think, Dream? Do you think you’re ready to do what’s asked of you and open the fucking box?”

It had been awhile since Quackity had even bothered to ask that question. Most days when he was dragged into the room, there was no request made of him. He was strapped into the chair or chained and cut and beaten and whipped until Quackity was tired, hours later. Wooden splinters had been shoved under his nails seemingly for no other reason than it was something to do. When their demands of him were brought up, it was in passing and Dream always refused.

Dream always refused because he had to but for a moment, laying on the floor, still shaking, being forced to look at Quackity through swollen and red eyes, he wanted to say yes. Dream wanted to tell him that he would do anything they wanted as long as it stopped. It was all he wanted but he shook his head.

“N-no.”

With a noise of disgust, Quackity let go of Dream and he dropped to the ground, hitting his chin on the stone, teeth clacking together painfully.

“Get him out of here.”

“This is your last chance, Dream.”

Quackity was standing right in front of him, blood splattered boots in Dream’s line of vision, but his voice sounded like it was coming from under water, far away. There was a ringing and something wet in his ears. He blinked a few times to clear his vision from the sweat and tears then tried to lift his head. It felt like lifting a boulder and he couldn’t stop his head from rolling uncomfortably to the side. He didn’t try to speak: there was nothing to be said even if he could spit the blood from his mouth and ignore the broken jaw.

I know it is, he thought, but there’s nothing I can do about that.

The last chance Dream had to change his fate had been moments before he challenged Tommy to the duel. After that, it was always going to end up this way. He knew that now. When he didn’t answer, Quackity reached out and grabbed his face, fingers digging into his cheeks. He forced Dream’s gaze upwards. Dream gave a deep, ragged sigh.

“Are you even fucking listening to me?” asked Quackity. At the silence, he dug his fingers in harder, nails cutting into Dream’s flesh, and shook Dream’s head back and forth. “I said, this is your last chance.”

It hurt to move his mouth but after a moment, Dream managed.

“I-I heard you the first time,” he said. The words came out slurred.

Quackity let go of his face with one hand and slapped him.

“Did you? Did you hear me, Dream? Then maybe do what the fuck you’re told and open the goddamn box, huh?” Quackity slapped him again, harder, before letting go completely and taking step back. “That’s all you have to do because if you don’t? This is it. I’m not coming here anymore. You’re fucking dead.”

Blood and drool dripped from Dream’s chin onto the floor. The chains holding his arms up rattled as he shifted slightly on his knees.

I wonder if they actually would’ve let me go. Too fucking late now, he thought.

He said nothing.

The silence dragged on – his painful, ragged breathing and Quackity’s quiet huffs of frustration – until Quackity slammed his fist into the side of Dream’s head. His vision went white as his head snapped to the side.

“Four fucking months,” spat out Quackity. “What a fucking waste.”

A joke was on the tip of Dream’s tongue but his mouth was full of blood and his brain was foggy and when he tried to speak, he almost choked. He shuddered. Quackity moved to the door and whispered something to one of the guards flanking it. The door creaked open then shut with a thud. Dream took a shallow breath. It was all he could manage. Every inch of his body hurt and had since he’d been thrown into this dungeon. His back stung from the whip marks, his fingers throbbed from where his nails had been ripped away. Death would almost be welcomed.

Sometime later, the door opened again. Two sets of boots stepped into Dream’s field of view.

“Try talking some sense to him,” Quackity said.

Dream managed to lift his head. It made him feel nauseous and he almost vomited when he saw Punz standing next to Quackity. They had their arms crossed over their chest, a look of disgust on their face. At Quackity’s request, they rolled their eyes and took half a step forward.

“Seriously, Dream? All you had to do was open the box and sign the treaty.” Punz sighed. “It should’ve been easy. They are going to kill you if you don’t. If you sign, they’ll let you go.”

All Dream wanted to do was say yes, that he would do it. He wanted to go home, for all the pain to stop, to be in control of what was done with his body again, to eat a full meal that wasn’t rotten and shared with the rats in his cell. He couldn’t.

“Fuck you, P-punz. You—You know I can’t do that.”

Punz threw their hands up and turned to Quackity.

“Whatever, I told you he wouldn’t agree,” they said. “Are we done? This was never part of the deal.”

Flicking his hand dismissively, Quackity watched as Punz pushed past the guards to open the door then let it fall shut behind them. Footsteps faded away up the stairs. It was silent once more.

“God fucking damn it,” muttered Quackity. He looked at Dream and began to push his sleeves up further. The white fabric was already stained with drying blood. He moved to the cart that was covered with his tools. His hand hovered for a moment before he picked up a pair of shears, metal blades glinting the torch light. “Well, Dream, since I’m here, how about a little parting gift?”

Dream gave a shuddering breath.

“No thanks.”

A laugh was pulled from Quackity, the grin on his face wide. The thought that if things were very different, they might have been friends, crossed Dream’s mind briefly. Then Quackity grabbed his left hand, put the blades of the shears against his pointer finger and squeezed until bone crunched and snapped. Dream’s finger fell to the ground and he screamed.

“One more, for old time’s sake,” Quackity said, the humor gone from his voice.

Dream kept screaming.

The water was cold but Dream couldn’t find the energy to move beyond turning his head and sputtering weakly. It pooled underneath him, making him shiver. He tried to focus on what was being said but all the words sounded muffled. The guard who had tossed the bucket of water on him took a step back and Dream could see Quackity leaning against the wall of the cell and Tubbo standing next to him, trying not to look at Dream as he shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

“That’s good enough,” said Quackity. “He’s not going to get any cleaner than that. Strip him.”

Two of the guards approached and Dream felt his heart begin pounding in his chest. He pushed himself upright, slipping on the wet stone the first time and hitting his elbow. It made him draw in a sharp breath.

“Don’t—Don’t fucking touch me,” he spat, mouth still full of water and blood.

The closest guard stopped and looked back at Quackity. He straightened, moving away from the wall.

“Then take off your clothes because I want to get the fuck out of here.” Giving a deep sigh, Quackity adjusted his hat. “I’m sick and tired of this fucking dungeon.”

Dream looked at him and then at the other people standing in the cell. Tubbo still was looking anywhere but at Dream, folded white fabric held in his hands. The guards stared at him impassively as if they barely registered his presence. With shaking hands, Dream tugged his stained and torn shirt over his head. He dropped it to the ground, resisting the urge to cover his chest as he pulled his pants down and scooted out of them.

“Put this on.” Quackity grabbed the white fabric from Tubbo’s hands and tossed it at Dream. “Hurry up.”

The fabric was a simple shift, little more than a rectangle with a hole for the head and two for the arms. It was coarse and thin and Dream felt a sinking in his stomach but it was better than sitting here naked and exposed. He did as he was told and put it on.

“Get him up,” Quackity said, waving a hand at the guards and turning. He stepped into the hall with Tubbo following him.

The guards grabbed Dream by the arms and he didn’t resist. His legs were sore and covered with bruises. There was no way he would’ve been able to stand on his own. He let them drag him out of the cell and only when they paused at the bottom of the stairs did he manage to get his feet under him. It felt like it took hours to climb the stairs. Dream’s breaths were shallow, his forehead was dripping with sweat, and he felt light-headed.

Compared to the dim light of the dungeon, the brightness of upper hallway hurt his eyes. Dream thought they were familiar but it wasn’t until he was standing in front of the large doors to the throne room that he realized where he was. Two more guards opened the doors and he stumbled in. On the throne, Wilbur leaned forward.

“Dream,” he said, voice full of sickly sweet sadness. “Dream, it is such a shame that we have to see each other again in these circumstances. Believe me, I take no pleasure in what happens next.”

Dream lifted his head. The whip marks on his back were itching painfully and his hands were throbbing and the rest of his body was a dull ache instead of a configuration of parts and limbs. He let out a huff.

“Y-yeah, sorry, but I don’t believe you.”

Smiling, Wilbur sat back.

“I suppose you wouldn’t but it is true, Dream. If only you had done what we asked….” He trailed off with a sigh. “Now, I suppose you’re wondering what’s about to happen, aren’t you?”

The guards’ hands on his arms was beginning to hurt and Dream felt himself sag slightly. He wouldn’t be able to keep himself upright much longer and the only real thought he had was that he hoped this would be over soon, even if it ended in his death.

“Not really,” he mumbled.

The smile on Wilbur’s face faded. He folded his hands together in his lap and then cleared his throat.

“Each year, to honor the sacrifices that have gotten us here, to remember the hardships we’ve faced, we send one person into the woods. A gift to the creature that lives there, to sate its hunger,” said Wilbur. His expression was somber, eyes moving around the room, before looking back to Dream. “They, of course, never return. It’s a price we must pay. A sacrifice. You will be that sacrifice, Dream.”

The conversation in the carriage with Punz came back to Dream and he thought about the forest they had rode past. The mosaics on the wall of this very room spelled out the story.  He had brushed off those tales but standing here, aching and dressed in the white shift, Dream thought he believed it.

“I truly do hate to see it end like this.” Wilbur waved a hand, nodding to the guards. “Take him to be prepared.”

It had rained the night before and the path was wet. Dream dug his toes into the mud, flanked by two sets of guards, holding censers that smelled of flowers and vinegar. All four wore blue hooded robes and a sheer veil that covered their faces. There was a pang in Dream’s chest, wishing for his mask to hide his own face. It wouldn’t matter soon but a crowd lined the grassy area just beyond the castle wall and he could feel their eyes on him as he swayed on his feet. Behind him, Wilbur was speaking, voice booming out though Dream couldn’t make out the words he was saying. That didn’t matter either. Ahead of him, the dark branches of the forest stretched over the path, blocking out all the sunlight.

Dream shivered, a wave of nausea hitting that was either his shrunken stomach or the fear, he didn’t know which.

I really didn’t think I was going to die like this, he thought and then another thought that bordered on hysterical: I don’t even know how I’m going to die.

A choked laugh was pulled from him and one of the guards turned their head towards him. Dream lowered his head as the guard reached over to tug on the bindings around his wrists. They were for show – the soft sort of rope usually found hanging a tapestry, soft golden brown – as was the guard checking them. He had no energy to run even if he had a way to escape. The edges of his vision had gone blurry.

“Move.”

Another guard was nudging Dream’s back, elbow digging into his spine hard enough that he almost lost his balance as he stumbled forward. It was quiet now. Only a few murmurs could be heard from the crowd that had gathered. Next to him, the guards began to walk forward and Dream followed. Going of his own volition was better than being pushed or dragged. He wondered if Punz was in the crowd watching as he walked along the path but he didn’t look back. The fear intensified as he stepped under the canopy of branches, making his mouth unnaturally wet and his heart race. If there had been anything in his stomach, he would have vomited.

Twenty steps down the path (or was it thirty, Dream was having a hard time keeping track), all the sunlight had faded leaving the forest as dim as evening after the sun set. The temperature dropped and goosebumps rose on Dream’s bare arms. The ground under his feet had become dry and strewn with rocks and roots creeping their way in. Beyond the edge of the path, the forest was completely silent. The only sound was the swishing of the guards’ robes and the soft metal clink of the censers. It was driving Dream crazy and he wanted to ask where they were going and how long it would take, anything to break the silence. But he kept quiet.

Wherever we’re going, it won’t end well for me, he thought.

Dream’s legs were burning and his head was pounding by the time the path widened out and the tree came into view. It was huge, stretching up past the lower branches of the other trees, the trunk twisting up into pitch black. The bark itself was almost as dark and the few leaves that were visible seemed to be tinted blood red. Roots writhed at the base like snakes, arching out of the ground. In front of the tree, a metal spike had been driven into the ground.

One of the guards grabbed Dream by the arm and dragged him forward. They shoved him roughly to the ground and Dream landed hard, scraping his palms and knees. The pain was sharp compared to the dull ache that he had been feeling for months. He winced, biting down on his tongue. He could taste blood. The guard took his hands and hooked the rope binding him around the metal spike. This close Dream could see a hole in the spike, like a needle. A different guard knelt next to him and pulled a piece of the same rope out of their robe. They used it to tie his bindings to the metal spike. Without a word, they stood and all of them turned, hurrying back down the path. Dream twisted on the ground to watch them.

“Thanks—Thanks for fucking nothing,” he called, swallowing spit and blood. The words sounded shrill and panicked and were swallowed up by the forest.

Dream sat on the ground, one leg bent awkwardly beneath him and the other stretched out, chest rising and falling rapidly. It was the first time he had a moment to truly take in his situation. If there was no curse, no monster lurking, he would still freeze to death before the next day dawned. He tugged as hard as he could at his bindings. The spike didn’t budge and the ropes strained a little but held. Dream tried twisting his aching hands around to untie the knot but his nails hadn’t grown back and he had no purchase. He dug his finger into the knot as hard as he could, the scab on the end catching and peeling a little. Blood soaked into the fiber of the rope.

It was useless. It fucking hurt.

Even in the dungeon cell, even being tortured, Dream had tried to hold it together. After the iron tube, he had tried to keep his tears silent, clinging onto hope that he would be able to survive it all even as Quackity cut and burned and tore at his body. He wouldn’t be surviving this. A sob bubbled up into his throat. Dream hunched over. His tears fell onto the ground, wetting the dirt, and the forest ate up his sobbing as well.

Dream woke up cold and stiff and surprised he was still alive. Each attempt at moving caused white hot pain to shot through his limbs, making his vision fade. He gasped and choked, writhing on the ground in front of the tree. His lips were chapped and the corners of his eyes were crusted. He lay there for what felt like ages until what remained of his muscles finally loosened. Dream started to push himself up, arms shaking violently, and then stopped. He held his breath.

To his left, in the trees, there was a rustling. He shifted, trying to turn towards the sound. A twig snapped and it sounded like an explosion. Dream shifted a bit more and looked towards the trees. He was still holding his breath and his lungs began to burn. Branches swayed and cracked as a hulking figure drew closer. The dark of the forest obscured any details except two pinpricks of glowing red. The creature had to stand twice as tall as Dream did. It pushed forward through the trees, bending and breaking them, and stepped into the clearing.

A giant boar stood at the edge of the forest. Its skin was a strange pinkish-beige and marked with scars along the hide. Coarse pink hair covered the ridge of its spine and a tuff of similar hair was at the end of its tail, lashing back and forth. The snout alone was the size of Dream’s head and the tusks that curved from its mouth were as long as his arms. It took another step forward, the hooves crunching rock underneath.

“Sh-shit,” said Dream, voice shaky. “I didn’t—I really didn’t think you were real.”

He didn’t know why he was talking. It didn’t seem as if there was anything else he could do. The boar snorted, stepping closer.

“Which, to be fair, W-Wilbur lies a lot.”

The boar stopped its advance when Dream said the name of the king. It titled its huge head.

“Yeah, he, uh. He had me tortured.” Despite the fear that was making him tremble, he couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice. It had been months and every day, he had been beaten and tortured and he knew that they knew it was pointless after the first few weeks but they kept doing it. “So. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised, huh?”

The words felt like they were pouring out of him. The boar hadn’t moved. It was staring at him.

“They—They only fed me raw potatoes so I’m not going to taste good, either.”

It wasn’t funny but Dream laughed. He had been starved until he could count each of his ribs and then, to finish him off, they sent him to a cursed forest to be eaten by a pig. He stretched out his other leg. The blood on his knees and the mud on his feet had dried.

Giving a loud huff, the boar began approaching again. Dream drew in a deep breath that hurt his chest, the broken ribs contracting painfully. He wanted to close his eyes but didn’t. The boar was close that he could feel its hot breath on his face. It sniffed him and Dream thought it felt as if it was checking to see if he was telling the truth or not.

“Yeah, I probably smell like shit, too,” he said, the laughter still in his voice.

The boar snorted, blowing strands of Dream’s tangled hair around his face. He winced. This close he could see how large the creature’s mouth was and imagined how easily its jaw would break his bones. The thought made his arm throb, the phantom pain of when it had been broken a sharp reminder. The boar lowered its head.

“Just—Just get it over with.”

Moving forward slowly, carefully, the boar hooked the rope tying Dream’s wrists together around one of its great tusks. Dream frowned. It didn’t move. It stayed very still. After a moment, Dream swallowed and began to drag the rope up and down against the tusk. The boar still didn’t move. The rope began to fray, the strange blade like edge of the tusk cutting some of the woven strands. Dream felt as if his heart was in his throat as more of the rope was cut away. Suddenly, the boar lifted its head and Dream was certain he was about to be eaten but he pushed as hard as he could with his feet against the dirt. His strength wasn’t what it used to be and he was lifted off the ground.

The rope snapped.

Dream fell back to the ground and laid there, looking up at the dark branches of the trees, trying to catch his breath and waiting for the boar’s teeth to latch onto him and tear him apart. He lay there for awhile. When he finally sat up, the boar was looking at him. It had taken a step back. Dream began pulling at the knots still tied around his wrists. It hurt, the beds of his nails still tender, and he grit his teeth. He was able to undo one but the other knot had been pulled too tight. He tossed the loose piece of rope away and examined his hands. His fingers were bleeding.

“I’m not sure what you want,” said Dream.

The boar flicked its tail.

“Okay, I’m—” Dream rubbed a hand across his face. He had expected to die, had almost accepted it. Now he wasn’t sure what his fate would be. He blinked, trying to force away the tears. “I’m tired.”

The boar didn’t move. Dream slowly began to push himself back towards the tree. The dirt was softer amongst the roots, decaying leaves covering the ground. He stopped when he felt bark against his back and then pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs. The boar stepped forward and stretched out its neck, sniffing Dream’s hair. He tried not to move. Its breath smelled like blood and fresh dirt and the warmth of it was almost pleasant.

Dream closed his eyes.

When he woke up this time, Dream kept his eyes squeezed shut. He could hear the boar breathing, a low rumble. It had made no move to eat him and Dream couldn’t figure out why. Did it want him to run? Was that why it had gone through the effort to free him? Even if that’s what it was waiting for, Dream didn’t think he could manage to get more than a few steps. He was light-headed and weak. His mouth was painfully dry. The thought of water made him want to sob; he had never been so thirsty. Part of him wished the boar had eaten him as he slept. Finally, he cracked one eye open and then the other.

The boar was asleep, lying on its side, in front of the tree. Dream would have to climb over the roots and around it if he wanted to try to get away. Struggling, he sat up and propped himself up against the trunk of the tree. The sound woke the boar. It lifted its head and sniffed the air before looking at Dream. He swallowed.

“I-I can’t run, if that’s what you want,” he said. His voice cracked. “I need water.”

The boar lumbered to its feet. It loomed over Dream and his heart pounded. He had never seen anything so big. The boar lowered its head and nudged Dream’s shoulder with its snout. It took all his self-control not to scream or try to shove it away. The boar nudged him again.

“Yeah, I hate—I hate to break it to you but I don’t think I can get up.”

Taking a step back, the boar snorted and Dream was certain that he was about to be killed. But just like the other times he thought that, no attack came. The boar turned away from him and towards the forest. Dream watched, confused, as it disappeared into the trees where it had come from.

“What the fuck…?”

Dream waited, wondering if the boar would come charging out at him. It didn’t. The clearing was quiet and empty. This might be the only chance he had to get away. He grabbed onto one of the roots and pulled himself upwards. His legs trembled and his vision swam. Dream pitched to the side, shoulder colliding with the tree trunk. Pain shot through his arm and back and he dropped to the ground with a pained grunt.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

“…fuck.”

Tears welled up in his eyes. He was going to die. The boar was toying with him or else it had left him to starve or freeze to death. Dream didn’t know which one would be worse. He slammed his fist into the root of the tree, the anger boiling over. Death would be better than the helpless feeling that had settled on him. He let his head fall back against the tree trunk with a thud, staring up at the branches above. He stared until his eyes felt sticky.

There was a rustling in the distance and Dream turned to look in the direction the boar had gone. He could see it returning. Dream crossed his arms over his chest. The boar emerged, its head lowered. Something was in its mouth. It approached Dream and dropped the object to the ground. It rolled towards him. Dream reached out, eyes on the boar, and picked it up, turning it over in his hands. The melon wasn’t a type Dream had ever seen before – with yellow skin that felt wrinkly – but he knew food when he saw it.

Wiping the drool from the boar off on his shift, Dream hit the melon against the same root he had hit with his fist. It broke open and the sweet smell hit his nose, making his stomach growl. The thought it could be poison crossed his mind for a second but he didn’t care. He scraped away some of the seeds then bit into the pale yellow flesh. It was crisp and watery and Dream had never tasted anything as good. Juice dripped down his chin as he ate, only discarding each piece when he had gotten to the rind. When he was done, his face and hands were sticky and his stomach ached uncomfortably. He wiped his hands on the white shift and glanced at the boar who was sniffing at the discarded melon rinds.

“Thanks,” he said. The boar looked up at him and Dream fidgeted. “You’re—You were cursed, right? I saw it in some murals, in the castle.”

The boar snorted and dipped its head. The intent was obvious. Dream felt a wave of light-headedness. If he believed the stories, this creature had once been a person and it was supposed to be the death of him. It still might be. Dream looked at the broken melon pieces on the ground.

“Are you going to kill me?”

The boar flicked on ear then went back to smelling the melon. It opened its mouth and snatched up one of the pieces. The rind crunched twice before the boar swallowed and turned its attention to the other pieces, eating each in turn. Dream watched, sweat beading on his forehead. If this was the answer to his question, it didn’t make Dream feel so certain that he wouldn’t met the same fate as the melon.

“R-right.”

Dream sat back. The tree dug into his back painfully; the most recent whip marks still hadn’t healed fully but he was too exhausted to find a more comfortable position. He had slept but it wasn’t restful. It had merely been his body and mind unable to continue. He thought he could sleep for a week straight and still be tired. The boar turned in a circle, taking up half the clearing as it did so, then laid down with a thud that Dream felt in his bones. It looked at him with one eye.

“I have to piss,” said Dream.

The pressure on his bladder had been there the entire time but the pain and fear had overshadowed it. Now that he didn’t seem to be in immediate danger of being eaten by a giant boar, the fear had subsided. Dream struggled to his feet, leaning on the tree to keep himself from tipping over. He stood there for a moment as he caught his breath. The boar didn’t react. Carefully, Dream moved around the tree, one hand on the trunk as he did, to the other side. His legs were still sore but with a groan, he pushed himself away from the tree and walked to the edge of the clearing. There was minimal undergrowth in the forest and Dream squatted behind the first tree.

I guess there’s one good thing about wearing a dress, he thought.

When he was finished, Dream stood, wiped his hands on the already dirty fabric of his shift, and headed back to the tree in the clearing. The boar was still in the same spot and lifted its head when Dream came into view. Without thinking, Dream raised a hand as he sat back down.

“Peeing in a hole is actually better than—than that,” he said because he felt like he had to say something. The boar was watching him lazily and gave a snort at his words. Dream thought it felt like a laugh. The nod might not have been coincidence or a one off. The boar had been a man once and perhaps retained some of his humanity.

“This is probably a stupid question but…” Dream swallowed. His throat felt tight. “But can you understand me?”

The boar blinked slowly and then dipped its head. It hadn’t been a stupid question, after all. That light-headed feeling came back and with it a pounding in Dream’s chest. He didn’t know what this meant for him. The boar had given him food and hadn’t harmed him. Could he plead for his life or had all the time in this cursed forest turned it cruel? Was he being played with for amusement before being killed? He wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. Dream wasn’t even sure he didn’t understand. He thought of the torture and Quackity’s smiling face as he did it all and wanted to hurt someone the same way. It felt like splinters that were stuck under his skin, itching and burning.

“That’s—That’s cool,” he said.

Another snort left the boar, louder than the first. It stared at him for what felt like forever, long enough for Dream to shift uncomfortably and glance away, before it got up. The boar turned towards the same direction it had come and gone from and started off once more. Dream frowned.

“Where are you going?”

There should have been relief at the sight of the boar returning to the forest without having eaten him but it had been so long since he had any company that wasn’t his torturers. Dream wasn’t picky. He didn’t want to be alone in these woods. But the boar didn’t answer. It disappeared back into the woods with a flick of its tail. The sound of it moving through the forest faded and then there was silence again.

Dream gave a shuddering sigh and curled up between the roots of the tree, alone.

Something hot and wet on Dream’s ear woke him this time.

His eyes flew open to see the boar’s snout mere inches from his face, the tusks gleaming in what little light filtered through the trees. Dream bit back a startled gasp. The boar stepped back two large paces and lowered its head. On the ground was another melon and the boar nudged it towards him. Grabbing it, Dream wiped it on the shift that was steadily becoming less white and more brown. This melon wasn’t as firm as the last and it took a few more whacks against the tree to break. When it did, the rind didn’t break as much as it squished.

“Thanks,” said Dream, biting into a piece of melon. He slurped as much of the juice that he could, trying to finally chase away the dryness in his mouth. “I guess it’s stupid to ask if you’re going to kill me, huh.”

The boar flicked one of its ears. It wasn’t a clear answer but Dream had a feeling he had gotten the answer earlier with the first melon. The boar didn’t want him to run. Dream wasn’t even sure he thought he was being toyed with anymore. Like the first time, once he had finished eating, the boar snatched up the rinds. Dream watched as he rubbed his hands against the fabric of the shift in a futile effort to clean them. Spots of blood were left behind, one of the scabs on his fingers having been pulled off. All the rinds had been eaten and the boar turned in a few circles before laying down.

It was much closer to the little hollow that Dream had been huddle in this time, practically blocking Dream in. The wind that had been blowing through the branches of the forest was lessened, the boar’s great mass also acting as a shield from the chill. Dream was still cold. The boar’s side rose and fell steadily, it’s eyes closed. He could feel the hot breath and shivered. Desperation was creeping up. For the first time in months, his stomach wasn’t painfully empty. He didn’t want to be cold anymore.

Slowly and carefully, Dream scooted across the ground until he was next to the boar. His hand shook badly as he reached out and touched the boar’s side. The coarse, pinkish-beige fur was thick and his hand sunk into it, giving the illusion he still had all his fingers. The boar partially opened one eye. Dream didn’t move. The boar flicked its tail then closed its eye again, head flopping onto the ground. A few moments later, a steady, snoring sound came from it. Curling up, Dream pressed against the boar. It was warm.

If it eats me now, I don’t care, he thought. Everything hurt but he wasn’t starving and he wasn’t freezing. Compared to the dungeon cell, this was luxury. A rock was sticking into his side and he dug it out and tossed it away. It landed with a soft rustle in the dead leaves covering the ground and then the only sound was the boar’s snoring once again. As he stifled a yawn, Dream closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

The muffled thump of the boar’s heart followed him into his nightmare.

It echoed through the cell, louder and louder, until Dream thought that his head would explode from the sound. He couldn’t move. The floor seemed to hold him in place, eyes locked onto the ceiling. He could hear the slicing of flesh and the dripping of blood. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see shadows on the wall and hands reaching into his chest. The shadow figure on the wall pulled his heart out, the beating now so loud it was unbearable. Blood splattered across the wall as his heart was crushed.

Dream screamed.

His fingers scrambled against dirt, not stone, but it still took him a moment to realize where he was, each breath ragged and shallow as he looked around. The boar was staring at him. Its head was slightly cocked to the side. Shaking, Dream touched his chest as if making sure it had been a nightmare and nothing more. Beneath the fabric, he could feel the raised scars that marred his skin. His throat hurt from the scream that had been torn from it. The boar stretched out its neck and sniffed him.

“I—It was nothing,” said Dream, still shaking. The boar pressed its large, wet snout against his shoulder. He thought he would be scared – its tusks were inches from his face – but he wasn’t. He stayed like for awhile, with the boar’s snout pressed to him. Dream rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I was tortured and I keep having stupid fucking nightmares about it.”

Dream wanted to the words to sound nonchalant. He would’ve taken righteous anger, too. But the words sounded scared and soft and tired. The anger he wanted to feel at Wilbur and Quackity and the guards twisted around and aimed at himself.

“Fucking…”

The boar nudged his shoulder before getting to its feet. It turned towards the forest and took a few steps. Dream felt a hiccupping breath in his chest. He didn’t want to be alone and he didn’t want to be left alone like this. The boar stopped and turned to him. It tapped the ground with one hoof.

“W-what?”

The boar tapped the ground once more, swinging its great head towards the forest and then back towards him. It took Dream another moment to understand the meaning.

“Yeah, alright,” he said and pulled himself up, using the twisting roots and the trunk of the tree to steady himself. The light-headed feeling was still present but he was able to stay standing without vomiting up the melon he had eaten. It was a close call; he could feel bile rise in the back of his throat. “Where are we going?”

As soon as the question was out of his mouth, Dream groaned inwardly. The boar couldn’t answer. It glanced at him and began walking slowly into the forest. Dream followed. Twigs and rocks poked into the soles of his feet. It was such a minor pain compared to what he had been through but it made tears well in his eyes. He blinked them away, trying to ignore them and the burning in his calves.

Dream made it what felt like three miles but realistically couldn’t have been more than three hundred feet before he had to stop and lean against the nearest tree. He closed his eyes and felt sweat dripping down his neck. It was cold in the forest but he felt hot and sticky. The trembling in his limbs had gotten worse. Ahead of him, the boar had stopped and turned around, nostrils flaring.

“Give me a minute,” said Dream, each word coming out in a strained gasp.

The walk into the forest had been driven by fear and the guards half dragging him. Even with some food and some sleep, Dream wasn’t sure he could go much further. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. The boar blinked slowly. It bent its front legs, kneeling down, with a snort. Dream swallowed. None of this felt real but he stumbled forward and grabbed onto the mane of pinkish hair that lined the boar’s spine. He tried to be gentle, muttering apologies as he awkwardly pulled himself up, slipping twice.

I rode horses all the time, he thought, no way this should be so hard.

Sitting on the back of the boar was very different than sitting on a horse, even bareback. The ridge of its spine was high and arched and it took Dream a moment to find a position that didn’t feel as if he was about to fall. He twisted his fingers into the boar’s mane, leaned forward until his cheek was resting against its shoulder, and squeezed with his shaking legs. The boar stood slowly and Dream tightened his grip, a wave of dizziness hitting as he realized how tall the boar truly was. It began to move through the forest. Branches brushed against Dream, occasionally snagging in his hair, but he was too afraid to let go to dislodge them and as they moved forward, strands of dirty blond hair were left behind. The path they were on seemed well-worn, packed down by the boar’s heavy steps. It wasn’t man-made like the one he had walked on his way in here but an animal trail, carved out over time.

I wonder if there’s other animals. I don’t think I want to know if there are.

This deep in the forest, it was pitch black. Dream couldn’t see more than half a foot past the trail but he thought he could hear the rustling of leaves or snapping of twigs. The boar had been walking long enough that Dream’s legs were tingling. He opened his mouth to ask how much longer it would be when he noticed that the trees seemed to be thinning out. The ground was becoming rockier. Dream lifted his head.

There was light in the distance, pale grey moonlight, brighter than what had been in the clearing with the twisted tree. Dream blinked, letting go with one hand to rub away the crust that had formed at the corner of his eye. He thought it was his mind playing a trick on him but as they got closer he knew it was real. The trail sloped up and Dream had to hurriedly grab the boar’s mane once again before he lost his balance.

The clearing was smaller but set up on a hill, rocks and dead trees that had been bleached white with age jutting out from the ground. One of the rocks formed an overhang; not quite a cave but something that would function well enough as shelter. Dream sat up on the boar’s back as the ground leveled out and they entered the clearing. What he had mistaken for the white roots of the dead trees he realized with dread were bones. None seemed to be whole. They were broken as if something had bit them in half. Dream knew that was what had happened.

I wasn’t the only sacrifice.

I wasn’t the only sacrifice and I let it bring me back here and now it’s going to kill me, thought Dream. 

He had come into this forest ready to die. Not willingly, but a resigned sort of readiness where death would be almost welcomed after what had been done to him. Then the boar had come and fed him and let him sleep next to it and Dream had hope that maybe he would survive. That had all been a trick. The boar had been playing a game with him the whole time.

It’s just like the duel all over again, he thought as that hope drained away and he slid off the boar and hit the ground with a heavy thud.

Dream didn’t know how long he had been out but it couldn’t have been long. The drool on his arm hadn’t dried yet. He wrinkled his nose. His shoulder hurt a little as did his back from being dragged across the clearing to beneath the rock outcropping. Lifting his arm, Dream examined it. The boar had managed to drag him a few yards by his arm and had barely left any marks apart from the coating of slobber and the tiny scrapes from the ground. He wiped his arm awkwardly on his shift (which had to be at least twenty percent boar drool at this point) and sat up.

The boar was sitting on its haunches in the middle of the clearing. In the moonlight, its eyes glinted red.

“Did—Did you f-fucking bring me here to kill me?”

The anger came through in his words now. If he had been killed still tied to that iron spike, he wouldn’t have been angry. He had been allowed to hope and Dream knew that was worse than dying. The boar tilted its head like a quizzical puppy. A sharp laugh escaped Dream. He pointed at the pile of bones.

“You brought me here to kill me,” he said.

Deliberately, awkwardly, the boar shook its head side to side.

The ground beneath Dream felt like it had dropped. His stomach jumped to his throat and hung there for a moment until he swallowed, hard. It could understand him and was answering his question with a no. Dream wasn’t sure he believed that. He thought about the melons and the gentle nudge to his shoulder after his nightmare. Why would it do all this to kill him here and now?

“What the hell do you want from me then!”

The boar stood and Dream flinched back but it turned towards the side of the clearing to where there was another animal trail leading down the small hill. It stopped and looked over its shoulder at him before continuing on, out of sight. Dream frowned. It was an invitation to follow it and he didn’t have anything to lose. He got to his feet and followed slowly, trying to avoid stepping on any rocks.

He heard the sound of running water before he saw it. At the bottom of the hill and around a slight bend, there was a creek. The water looked black as it flowed over the rocks but it was water; he could smell the moisture in the air. Dream stumbled forward, dropping to his knees on the bank, and dipped his hands into the water. It was freezing. He cupped his palms and took two unsatisfying sips that way before he gave up and stuck his face into the stream. The boar was watching him but Dream barely was aware of its presence. He drank until his stomach hurt and his teeth were chattering violently. He looked over at the boar.

“Did you bring me here for this?” he asked.

The boar dipped its head then stepped to the edge of the creek and began to drink. A war of emotions was running through Dream though confusion won out in the end. He chewed at the corner of his lip, trying to ignore the way his stomach was gurgling. He had drank too much, too fast. Dream put his hands back in the water and began to scrub off as much of the dirt and blood as he could. It made the chattering of his teeth worse but he felt dirty and gross and if he didn’t think he’d freeze to death, he would’ve waded into the water to fully clean himself.

The boar finished drinking and gave a snort, its breath rolling out in steam across the water. It turned and began heading back up the trail, pace slow. Dream shook the water off his hands before following. He could feel the water sloshing in his stomach as he walked. The binding still on his wrist was wet and dripped cold water down his fingers. His feet hurt. By the time he had made it back to the clearing, he wanted to sit down for a bit. Dream wanted to sit down forever.

As he walked to the overhang, Dream tried not to look at the bones. The ground beneath the rock outcropping was sandy and soft and he sat down with a deep sigh. He stretched his legs out and began rubbing his calves, trying to work out some of the soreness. The boar sniffed around the clearing for a bit before coming to lay down beneath the overhang as well. It was close enough that Dream could have reached out and touched its snout. It blinked lazily at him.

“I really thought you were going to kill me,” said Dream, not able to keep the tremor out of his voice. The bones had shaken him. He was certain he had seen a human skull in the pile. He watched the boar, not sure what he was looking for.

The boar flicked one ear then laid its head down. It gave away nothing about what it might be thinking. Dream looked down at his hands and the stumps of his two missing fingers. The scars might fade with time but there was no fixing that. He shuddered, too tired for anger.

“Look, this—this is going to sound stupid but… If you are going to kill me, can you just fucking do it? I’ve—I’ve had enough assholes playing games with me. So. Just kill me, if that’s your—your angle.”

The boar raised its head. It stared at him for what felt like forever before it dipped its head. Relief washed over Dream and he rubbed a hand across his face.

“Cool,” he said. He dragged a finger through the sandy ground. “I’m—I’m Dream.”

It made him feel stupid, telling his name to the boar. Dream knew it understood him but that didn’t stop the awkwardness. The boar tilted its head then gave a snort. He got the distinct feeling it was chuckling at him. Rolling his eyes, Dream flicked a small pebble away.

“What’s your name?” he asked, since he was already feeling stupid. The boar blinked slowly at him. “You—You could like…. Try to write it in the dirt with your hoof.”

Once he said it out loud, it seemed like an exceedingly dumb suggestion but to Dream’s surprise, the boar stood. It dragged its hoof back then stepped forward, attempting to make another line. In the process, the line it had made was disturbed by its hooves. It looked down. The marks in the dirt looked nothing like a letter.

“Well, to be fair, I-I didn’t say it would work.”

The boar huffed and the force of the breath blew away the rest of the marks. Dream rubbed his fingers together, feeling the pieces of sand and dirt between them.

“You, like—You know the alphabet, right?”

Lifting its head a little, the boar stared at him. It flicked its eyes to the side before looking back at him and stretching its neck out just slightly. Dream didn’t know much about boars and he had never been good at reading expressions, even on other people, but he had a feeling this was an ‘are you serious’ sort of expression.

“Whatever,” said Dream, wrapping his arms around himself and rubbing his palms against his skin, trying to warm away the goose bumps. “If your stu—if your hooves are too big, maybe you could use a stick? And hold it in your mouth or something?”

Knowing the boar’s name felt oddly important to Dream. He was alive because of it. He owed it something. The boar considered his suggestion for a moment before getting to its feet. It wandered the edge of the clearing, sniffing at the ground. It finally found what it was looking for and returned with a stick, dry bark peeling along its length. The boar dragged the stick sideways in the dirt then down. Dream tilted his head. It was shaking but clearly a ‘T’. The boar stepped awkwardly to the side and began attempting the second letter. Another vertical line with three horizontal lines of varying success. This letter took Dream a bit longer to decipher.

“T E?” he asked, wanting confirmation he had guessed correctly.

The boar looked up at him and dipped its head in affirmation. It shuffled sideways again. The movement of the stick was jittery, no straight lines this time, and Dream frowned. He had no idea what it was supposed to be: a shaky, almost diagonal line that looked as though it had gotten caught on something midway and jumped in the opposite direction. If his head had been clearer, maybe he would’ve been able to figure it out. But sitting here, cold, all he had to focus on was the letters in the sand and the pain. Dream shook his head.

“Sorry, I—I don’t know,” he said. The boar looked down at the letter, eyes widening just a little. It stepped to the side and made one more attempt but this time the stick snapped from the pressure. The boar dropped the other part of the stick and looked up. “It’s—I could call you T?”

The boar blinked and sat back on its haunches. It dipped its head slowly.

“O-okay, cool.” Dream shifted where he sat, looking at the dirt that stuck to his fingers. He wondered if he would get an infection, if a piece of sand might stick to the scab and his nail would grow back over it like some sort of weird pearl. He shook the thought away and curled his hands into fists. “You’re a guy, right? Just making sure, in case.”

That also felt important. The boar nodded his giant head.

“Yeah… Me too.”

Before, when he thought he was going to die, it hadn’t mattered how the boar might see him, how the long hair and white shift dress and lack of chest binding would make him look. It mattered now. Dream’s stomach rumbled, undercutting the serious air. One of the boar’s ears flicked.

“They barely fucking fed me,” said Dream even though that didn’t likely didn’t need to be explained. The gauntness in his cheeks and the protruding bones did the explaining for him.

The boar stretched his neck out, sniffing at Dream’s hands for a moment before he laid down, a cloud of dust puffing up around him. T’s head was less than a foot from Dream’s side. He could see scars on his snout.

“I guess—I guess they screwed us both,” said Dream, with a weird bark of laughter. “So we have that in common.”

T dipped his head with a series of soft oinks and Dream knew without a doubt that he was laughing too.

The sandy dirt was more comfortable to sleep on than the stone floor of the dungeon or the ground by the tree with all its roots and knots. Curled up against T’s side, it was almost pleasant. Dream was able to sleep soundly, no nightmares waking him nor the instinctual dread that told him soon someone would be coming to hurt him. He had gone to sleep with a belly full of melon and woke up stiff and cold but without the heavy exhaustion that burrowed into his bones. Sitting up, he tried to stretch his limbs but gave up when his muscles cramped painfully.

Behind him, T snorted himself awake in intervals, barely lifting his head and opening his eye a sliver, until a particularly loud snort jerked his head all the way up. Dream’s mouth twitched in amusement. Leaning forward a little, T sniffed Dream’s hair, his hot breath tickling his ear then made a sound that could only be described as an oink of disgust. Dream waved him away.

“I know, I stink,” he said. “I thought—I thought pigs liked that.”

T butted his head against Dream’s shoulder, large tusks coming a little too close to his face for Dream’s comfort, but the movement was slow and deliberate. It was friendly, almost teasing. T moved back then lumbered to his feet. He stretched out before walking into the clearing and towards the line of trees. Dream watched him. There were paths going off in multiple directions and Dream had identified some of them: the path to the tree, the one to the creek, and the one T had gone down and returned with another melon. T disappeared down one that Dream hadn’t seen him use before. There was no pause to look back – the indication he was to follow – and so Dream stayed where he was.

It didn’t take long for the underbrush to rustle again, heralding T’s return. He shook himself and then sniffed around the clearing before flopping down on the ground. Dull sunlight had filtered through the trees and T closed his eyes, content. Dream watched the specks of dust float through the beams of light for a moment, trying to ignore the itching sensation of his healing injuries and the dirt and grim that clung to him. He wanted to get clean because he did stink.

“You—You don’t have any extra clothes, do you? From like, the other people?”

T turned his head towards him and blinked slowly.

“Yeah, I figured.” Dream tugged at the hem of the shift. He wanted out of it. He would settle for washing some of the blood and dirt off it. “There’s wood. I could build a fire.”

T tilted his head to one side.

“Because otherwise I’d freeze to death if I even tried to get clean,” he pointed out. It was a thought that had been running in his mind since plunging his hands into the cold creek water. Dream had wanted badly to scrub himself clean right then but with nothing to change into or keep him warm, it could only end badly. “Can I make a fire?”

There had been silence around the tree but this deep into the forest, Dream had begun to hear other sounds. Quiet rustling when neither him or T were moving and the soft trills of insects. The forest held other life; fire and smoke could lure something to the clearing that was unwanted.

In answer to his question, T nodded his head.

Some of the fear that had settled on the base of Dream’s spine since last night faded. A fire was safe. He got to his feet, swaying before steadying himself, and began walking around the edges of the clearing, looking for firewood. Before, he had taken the warmth of a campfire or hearth for granted. It had been months since he had been truly warm and a strange, giddy feeling was stuck in his chest as he picked up sticks. He brought them to the edge of the overhang and dropped them in a pile before going to look for a few decent size rocks.

T had gotten up and was also ambling around the clearing. He nosed at the ground and began pushing a rock with his snout. The rock rolled across the dirt in a somewhat straight line until T had brought it close to Dream’s pile of sticks. Then he turned and went looking for another. With help, it didn’t take long until Dream had a halfway decent fire pit but he was still out of breath and sweating despite the cold. He rubbed his eyes then went back to the edge of the clearing to gather up a few handfuls of dry leaves and grass.

It had been a long time since Dream had started a fire without flint and steel and his hands hadn’t been shaking so badly back then. It would have been easier if he had string or a knife. It would’ve been easier if his chest didn’t suddenly feel like it was being squeezed with each breath. But Dream took one of the larger sticks and then a smaller one and placed the end of the smaller one against a knot and began to roll the stick between his palms. His hands slipped and the stick went flying about a foot.

“Fucking… Shit,” he said, reaching out and grabbing the stick.

T had been watching the entire time and Dream felt his cheeks go hot.

“Look—I’m—It’s been awhile.”

T gave a huff, wide nostrils flaring, and moved behind Dream, flopping down. Dream glanced over his shoulder at the boar but his eyes were already closed. Putting the stick back in place, Dream got back to work, brows furrowed in determination.

The fire was warm and Dream held out his hands. It was almost uncomfortably hot but after being cold for so long, he didn’t care. The flames threw long, menacing shadows across the clearing and the rock wall that formed the back of the outcropping. Every so often there would be a pop from the fire or a rustle in the woods that would make Dream jump, drawing in a sharp breath. Now that the hunger and cold and fear of dying had lessened, he had more room for fear of other things.

Each time he startled, T would lift his head and sniff the air before nudging Dream’s shoulder. The first time, Dream had thought it meant there was something out there he should be alert to but now he understood it for what it actually was; an odd attempt at reassuring him. Dream found himself appreciating the gesture even though he had carefully scrubbed all visible parts of his skin in the creek, doing his best not to get the shift wet, and each time T touched him with his snout, it transferred a small bit of wetness. He resisted the urge to wipe it away.

“I was thinking,” said Dream, finally pulling his hands back and pressing them to his arms, savoring the warmth. “Maybe I could try to find some other food tomorrow? There’s no way you survive just on melons.”

The words were out of his mouth before Dream remembered the pile of bones and winced. He was meant to be eaten but for some reason, T had decided against it. He almost felt guilty for that. T flicked an ear with a grunt as he looked over at Dream. He gave another grunt and dipped his head. It seemed to be a hesitant agreement to Dream’s words but he wasn’t sure. If there were other living things in the forest, there had to food, beyond the same yellow melons.

“I mean, I-I can find something, maybe. The creek might have fish.”

He had been fishing once or twice, with George, what felt like a lifetime ago. Dream remembered how hard it was to bait the hook. Now his fingers shook so badly, so often, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to. Not that there was a hook to bait. He would have to figure out another way. T blinked slowly, looking at Dream, then let himself fall onto his side. His eyes were closed and a few moments later, he was snoring. The sound echoed in the clearing.

Dream sat for awhile by the fire, letting the warmth soak into his bones and watching the shadows dance across the ground, reaching towards the trees. He wondered what sorts of other creatures were out there. He wondered if any of them were watching him from the darkness. Glancing over at T, Dream tried to shove the fear away. Nothing out there could be as fearsome as the giant boar. He shifted a little closer and laid down, back pressed again T’s side, eyes squeezed shut, listening to T’s breathing.

Sleep didn’t come easy but it did come.

Dream woke up to the fire still burning and the clearing empty except for him. Reaching for the pile of wood that he had collected, he tossed a few more pieces onto the fire. It would likely go out eventually but he wanted to keep it burning for as long as he could. Until he got his strength back. Dream hadn’t been counting the days – it had been impossible at first, had slipped his mind later – but even with some food and water and consistent rest, he still swayed whenever he stood. His strength was slow to return.

He hated it; stretching his arm out for the wood had left him shaking. He couldn’t imagine holding a sword like this or even a sharpened stick in an attempt to spear a fish. Dream stretched his leg out, eyes darting around the clearing. There was no sign of T. The boar had left first thing in the morning each time and returned not long after. He waited.

By the time Dream heard the loud rustling from the forest, it had been long enough that his mouth felt dry and his stomach was growling. He paused in the middle of pushing himself off the ground, watching the brush sway as T approached, coming from the direction he went to collect the melons. It wasn’t a melon he was carrying but a branch of a bush, laden with bright red berries and long green leaves, some fading into yellow-orange. The clearing wasn’t small but T crossed it in a few strides and dropped the branch next to Dream. He gently squeezed one of the berries between his fingers, looking up at T.

“Are—Are you sure these aren’t poisonous?” he asked, no longer desperate enough not to care.

T stared at him for a beat before giving a loud huff. A smile twitched across Dream’s face.

“Shut up, I have to ask, I’m not stupid.”

Plucking one of the berries off the branch, Dream examined it before popping it in his mouth. It was tart in a good way. He pulled a handful off, some of the berries squishing in his palm and leaving behind a bit of red staining his skin. He stripped the branch clean, not bothering to remove all the stems. Juice dripped down his chin and his fingers were sticky by the time he was done. Some had gotten on his shift, the red mixing with the blood stains. He wiped his hands off on the fabric and bits of dirt clung to them.

“Ugh.”

T sniffed at his hands and without warning, licked them. Dream’s face twisted into disgust. He pulled back with an exaggerated gagging sound. A rapid series of short oinks sounded from T and Dream glared at him. He knew laughter when he heard it. He started to wipe his hands on the shift but changed his mind at the last minute. He reached out and wiped them on T’s shoulder.

“You’re so gross,” he said and tried to keep the hint of amusement out of his voice.

What Dream imagined was a satisfied look settled on T’s face. He rolled his eyes, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“I—I need to clean up.” The minimal wash he had given his arms and legs hadn’t done the job, especially when the clothing he was wearing smelled of sweat and was covered in dirt. But washing the shift meant he would have to be either wet or naked for hours until it dried. Neither option was appealing. The rational choice was to wash the shift and himself and lay the shift out to dry by the fire, keeping himself from being wet and cold for longer than necessary. “I need to wash this.”

T gave a slow nod, looking towards the path that led to the creek and getting to his feet, tail swishing. Dream wanted to protest except there was no reason to. He was dirty, his scalp itched, and the only piece of clothing he had was almost stiff grime. T hadn’t done anything to harm him. It might be awkward but after what had been done to him in the dungeon, being naked for a bit would be nothing.

Stop being a fucking pussy, he thought. T might’ve been human once, but what’s he going to do now?

Pushing himself off the ground, he followed after T.

The water was freezing. Dream’s teeth were chattering loudly and goosebumps covered his skin. He was sitting in the creek, rocks poking uncomfortably into his boney ass, knees pulled up as he scrubbed himself. The shift was spread out on a rock on shore – the first thing he had washed – and next to it, T was laying on his side, eyes closed. He had settled down and looked away when Dream had stripped and Dream had felt a warm surge of gratitude. It was an almost pointless gesture considering Dream would have to walk back to clearing naked but it was more than he had been afforded in a long time.

Tugging his fingers through his hair, Dream tried to undo some of the tangles and mats. He managed a few but without finger nails, the process was painful and he gave up after a few moments. It would need a brush or scissors. Dream took a deep breath, ignoring the tightness in chess from the broken ribs, and ducked his head under the water. His fingers rubbed against his scalp, trying to dislodge some of the dirt, until his lungs burned and he came up gasping for air. One long stretch was more tolerable than multiple shorter ones, Dream knew from experience.

He gave himself a once over seeing if he had missed any egregious bits of dirt that the running water hadn’t washed away. His fingers had gone wrinkly but he was cleaner than he’d been in months. The rocks under his feet shifted and clacked together as he stood and he had to hold out his arms to keep himself from slipping. On the shore, T raised his head at the sound and looked over. Dream instinctively put one arm across his chest and dropped his other hand down. T turned his head away and began sniffing the ground. A wry smile crossed Dream’s face as carefully moved to the shore. T flicked an ear as he approached. The shift was still soaking wet, water dripping when he picked it up. He wrung it out once more then tossed it over his shoulder.

“I’m ready,” said Dream, trying to keep his tone nonchalant. The cold water dripped down his back and chest, making him shiver, and he pulled the shift off and held it awkwardly instead. “We—We can go.”

T got to his feet with a snort. He glanced briefly at Dream before heading down the path. Dream walked next to him, teeth still chattering. The wind picked up and he shivered violently. He picked up his pace despite the aching in his legs. The trail wasn’t long but by the time they reached the top of the slight incline, Dream was dizzy and reached out a hand to prop himself up against T’s side.

The fire was still going and Dream sighed with relief. The desire to sit by the warmth erased the embarrassment of being naked. He laid out the shift on one side of the fire then sat. The dirt almost immediately clung to places he wished it didn’t but he didn’t feel gross. It was an improvement and he would take it. T circled around and laid down behind him with a grunt.

“Why is it so fucking cold here?” he asked, holding his hands out to the fire, knees pulled up to his chest. The cold felt unnatural. “It—It sucks.”

Behind him, he could hear T shifting. A moment later, his side was pressed against Dream’s back. He tensed for a moment and looked at T but he had already laid his head back down, eyes closed. The coarse hair that covered T’s side itched at his skin but the warmth was worth it.

“If I freeze to death, I’m going to be pissed.”

T stretched his neck out and curled it to the side, head flush to Dream’s thigh. The shivering lessened. Without thinking, Dream put his hand on T’s head, burying his fingers into the tuft of hair between his ears. He fought the heaviness of his eyelids for just a little bit before he gave in and let his head drop.

Dream started counting the days beginning with the day after he had washed himself in the creek.

The next day, when the shift was fully dry, he had followed T into the woods and gathered nuts and mushrooms that the boar had lead him to. He had eaten them raw as he sat in front of the fire and then gone to the pile of bones, trying to push away the revulsion he felt as he sifted through them. He could’ve sharpened a stick but he knew a bone would be better. He had found a good one and a few pieces of the same sort of binding that was around his one wrist still. It had taken him all day to sharpen it with a rock and the first thing he did was cut the rope from his wrist. He used the discarded bindings to tie it to a long stick, to make it into a passable spear.

On the second day, T had disappeared into the woods for longer than usual, long enough that Dream started to worry. When he returned, he was carrying the limp body of a rabbit in his mouth. He dropped it in front of Dream and Dream used his spear to badly butcher the animal (it had been so long since he skinned anything and he couldn’t stop thinking of the dungeon and the knife used on him). But he had done it and cooked the meat over the fire on a stick. It was the best thing he had ever eaten.

The third day, Dream set the rabbit skin onto a rock in the clearing in the morning, hoping what little pale sun that filtered through the trees would dry it out. He went to the creek, with T trailing behind, and tested out his spear. It took most of the day before he was able to spear a small fish. Cleaning it was worse than the rabbit and he decided he was done with fishing when he was barely able to remove the bones and more than a couple got stuck in his mouth. He set a few aside, thinking they might be useful, then T ate the rest whole.

Six days later, the first rabbit hide was washed and mostly dried. It wasn’t perfect, Dream knew that, but it was soft and it would be warm and there were two others setting out to dry, both less torn and ragged now that Dream’s hands shook less. Constant food had done wonders for him. The pain still lingered and his scabs still itched but his finger nails had started to grow back. He was doing better. He kept the fire stoked and slept next to T and sometimes woke up screaming.

He woke up screaming again three days later.

The nightmare had been vivid. Dream could taste the blood and bile in his mouth. He could feel the whip digging into his back. He could feel the hands on him, shaking him. His eyes flew open. Above him, T was looking down at him and after a pause, nudged him again with his snout. Dream sat up, rubbing a hand over his face. The fire had barely burned down; he couldn’t have been asleep for very long.

“Sorry about that,” he said.

“It’s fine, Dream,” said T.

Dream stared. In the dungeon, there were times, laying in a pool of his own blood, that he had seen and heard things that couldn’t have been there. Hallucinations brought on by pain and starvation. This had to be the same. It had to be.

“What the—”

T cut him off.

“Listen, man, I know it’s weird but I don’t have a lot of time,” he said, glancing over his large shoulder and up at the bits of sky visible between the trees. “I can only talk when the new moon is up.”

Leaning forward, Dream also glanced at the sky. There was no sliver of visible moon like there had been on some nights. Part of him thought he might still be going crazy but how much weirder was T being able to speak now than his mere existence?

“Okay.”

Dream didn’t know what else to say so he waited.

“My name’s Technoblade, just so y’know. I honestly can’t believe you couldn’t read my perfectly good letter ‘c’.”

The voice that came out of the giant boar was deep and deliberately flat, as if he was telling a joke. Dream blinked.

“It didn’t look like a ‘c’! It looked like—like some shitty sideways ‘v’,” said Dream, feeling himself getting heated until a realization hit him. “I thought you said we didn’t have a lot of time.”

Technoblade gave a quiet snort.

“I did, I did. Alright, here’s the thing. You wanna get out of here, right?”

“Of fucking course,” Dream answered immediately. He ignored the part of his thoughts that very quietly wondered what he would have to go home to: he had failed in his mission and undoubtedly made things harder for the friends he left behind. If they turned him away, Dream wouldn’t blame them.

Making a sound like he was clearing his throat, Technoblade lifted his head.

“Of course you do. There’s a way but I can’t do it without you. Deep in the heart of the forest, there’s another tree, like the one you’ve seen but bigger. And it’s surrounded by a bunch of stuff I can’t get through but to get out, we’re gonna need what’s inside it.”

Dream thought about the giant tree he had been tied in front of, waiting to die, and shuddered.

“W-what’s inside it?”

There was silence and Dream felt anxiety creeping up on him.

“I’ll be honest, Dream,” said Technoblade after a moment, “I’m not exactly sure. I can’t get close. A stone, I think, that glows blue. You’ll know it when you see it and if we have it, we can cross the boundary of the forest.”

A dozen questions swirled in Dream’s head and he wasn’t sure which one to ask first. His fingers twisted at the edge of his shift, leaving behind smears of dirt.

“Is—Is that why you didn’t kill me?” he asked.

Technoblade tilted his head as if he was considering the question.

“It is an added benefit, I’m not gonna lie. I don’t exactly like being stuck in here myself.”

Dream had been expecting a flat and easy ‘yes’ to his question. He frowned.

“So, why didn’t you kill me?”

A soft oink escaped Technoblade.

“I’ve been here alone for a long time,” he said slowly. “Sometimes I forget myself and everyone who does show up is always screamin’ at me. That doesn’t make it easy to remember. You talked to me. I remembered.”

Without thinking, Dream reached out and pressed his palm against Technoblade’s snout. It was bigger than his hand. Technoblade leaned into the touch before Dream dropped his hand.

“Yeah—I—I kind of get that.” Dream knew the things people whispered about him and how it made him feel. “So, wait, why can’t you get to this stone or whatever?”

Technoblade made a series of soft oinks, like he was chuckling, and looked away.

“Ah, for one, I won’t fit,” he said as he turned back to Dream. “And, look, don’t laugh, but the tree is surrounded by these flowers and the smell is awful. I got close once and it was like I couldn’t breathe.”

Immediately, Dream thought about the censers the guards had carried and the strange floral and vinegar smell that came from them. At the time, he hadn’t thought anything of it – he had been in pain and tired and believed he was about to die – but now he realized it had to have been a way of keeping Technoblade away. Their robes were blue, came the thought. Maybe there was a connection between that and the stone. Hope and excitement flared in Dream’s chest.

“I think I know what you’re talking about, actually. How long will it take to get there? Should we be leaving now?”

Dream had started to push himself up but Technoblade moved forward and nudged his shoulder with another one of those laugh-like oinks.

“Nah, nah, nah, easy, Dream. It’s far and you’re in no shape for this right now. I know how dang stubborn you are but you’re my only chance to get out of here so I’d rather wait until you’re ready instead of gettin’ yourself killed,” he said.

A series of protests were on the tip of Dream’s tongue – it had been two weeks at most, how would Technoblade know how stubborn he was – and instead he rolled his eyes, thinking about the fact he was still living despite it all. Maybe Technoblade had a point.

“Yeah, whatever, Technoblade. That’s—That’s a dumb name, you know that, right?”

Technoblade nudged him with his snout again, one tusk brushing against Dream’s shoulder. Dream held still. He knew now that Technoblade would be careful but his heart still began beating a little faster.

“Says the guy named ‘Dream’.”

The laugh made Dream jerk and he bumped against Technoblade’s tusk.

“You’re so annoying,” he said, a hint of laughter still in his voice. It felt good. It almost felt normal. “How long are you going to be able to talk for?”

Laying down with a small thud and cloud of dust, Techno looked back at the sky.

“Until the moon goes down. Trust me, I know they made it as inconvenient as possible. I can’t even see the moon. I guess that’s curses for you.”

Dream grabbed some wood from his pile and tossed it onto the fire, watching the embers float into the air. He held his hands out and examined his remaining fingers. The nails had almost grown back.

“Can you—Is there a way to break the curse?”

Technoblade nodded his head slowly, one ear flicking.

“That’s why I gotta get out of here. If I can, then I might be able to break the curse,” he said. “Even if I can’t, there’s some people I’d like to have a little visit with.”

The day he was dragged to the dungeon came back vividly to Dream. He remembered the disbelief and the anger and how eventually that had all turned to fear and the fear had faded to nothing, only pain and a desire for it to stop. If he had the chance to get revenge on the people who had done all those things to him, Dream would jump at it.

“It was Wilbur that cursed you, right?”

A deep, rumbling growl was pulled from Technoblade and Dream felt a hint of the fear that he had felt when he first saw him creep back up. There was no doubt that he had been a warrior once.

“It was. He lied to me and used me. I intended to repay him for that.” Technoblade sniffed the air and regarded Dream for what felt like a very long time. “You said he tortured you?”

Dream shuddered a little. He wanted to forget it had ever happened but it was etched all over his body. He put a hand on the exposed part of his leg and traced over the criss-crossing of scars. Almost every inch was the same.

“No—I mean, he had me tortured but he—he didn’t really do anything himself,” said Dream, throat tight. “He visited like, once or twice, I guess, but that was it. It was other people. Q-quackity, mostly.”

The fire wasn’t low but Dream still grabbed another piece of wood to carefully set on the flames, something to distract himself from his thoughts. It felt like his nightmare was still lingering. Technoblade’s tail swished back and forth in the sandy dirt.

“I won’t lie, I’ve got no idea who that is,” he said. “Must’ve been after my time.”

Dream snickered.

“Trust—Trust me, you’re lucky.” He flicked a rock away and yawned, not bothering to stifle it, as he grasped for a different subject. “When do you think I’ll be ready to go get the stone?”

Technoblade didn’t miss the emphasis; Dream could tell by the way he shook his head, like he was shaking a fly from his ear.

“Oh, I’m thinkin’ when you can stand without almost fallin’ over. You need at least two weeks of eatin’ actual meals, man. It wouldn’t hurt for you to make another one of those spears. Maybe a knife. I’d help but the lack of thumbs makes it hard,” he said with a few short oinks of amusement.

Dream wanted to protest, wanted to say he could handle it, but Technoblade was right. He hated to admit it. The months in the dungeon had changed him, broken him down. Once, he had been able to heft an axe and shield with ease wearing full armor while crossing difficult terrain. Now he could barely stand for long and his hands didn’t seem to stop trembling. He blinked quickly.

“What, am I going to have to fight something?” he asked, trying and failing to keep his voice from cracking.

Stretching his neck out, Technoblade sniffed at Dream’s hair. Dream had a feeling it was meant to be comforting but he waved him away and Technoblade complied.

“Hopefully not but ya never know. Besides, when you get out of here, you might need to defend yourself. It’s better to be prepared, I always say.”

He wasn’t wrong and Dream nodded with another yawn.

“Yeah, that’s true.” He glanced over at the rabbit skins, sitting on the rock to dry. “Are there other animals here? Something bigger?”

Techno’s ears flicked back.

“There’s some deer. I could drag one back if you’ve got something in mind,” he said. 

“Well, I thought maybe I could make something to wear.” Dream tugged at the shift. Whenever he wasn’t sitting near the fire, he was shivering with cold and he felt terribly exposed. Anything would be better, even a deer skin he could drape over himself. “This—this thing really fucking sucks.”

It was hard to read Technoblade’s expression but Dream thought his eyes softened. His large nostrils flared slightly.

“I believe that, Dream, I believe that. Tell you what, I’ll go out tomorrow and see what I can find. When you’ve gotten some supplies and put some weight on, we’ll go.”

The plan was reasonable and Dream should’ve felt some excitement or even disappointment that they weren’t going sooner but instead he felt conflicted. The forest, with the fire and Technoblade’s company, wasn’t terrible. It was better than the dungeon. He wasn’t sure if it would be better or worse than whatever was waiting for him when he returned. The uncertainty scared him.

“Y-yeah, that sounds good,” he said, knowing his tone was off. He swallowed, trying to push it away. “How will I know it’s time? We should—We should have like, a code or something.”

Technoblade nodded slowly, his wrinkled eyes narrowing a little in thought.

“You’re not wrong.” He sniffed at the dirt. “When it’s time to go, I’ll bring you a rock. Shouldn’t be any other reason why I’d be doin’ that. Or I’ll just wait until I can talk again.”

Another yawn, this one longer and deeper, came from Dream and he covered his mouth this time. He was tired.

“And—We could do one tap for yes and two taps for no, or whatever. For when you can’t talk.” That thought pricked something in Dream and he frowned a little. It was nice to be able to talk to someone, someone who wasn’t holding a knife or a hot iron or a whip. He didn’t want that to end. “When the curse is broken, you’ll go back to normal?”

Technoblade stretched his neck out and laid his head onto the ground, near Dream. He could feel the hot breath on his leg.

“That’s what I’m hopin’ for,” Technoblade said. “I mean, it’s not terrible, being a giant pig, it does have its perks but I’d like to be a person again.”

Something about the sentiment was familiar, understandable to Dream. He thought about the way, from the moment he stepped foot into Bramglen, people had whispered about him and treated him like a problem or inferior. Dream reached out and put his hand on Technoblade’s snout for a moment.

“I’ll—I’ll help, if I can. I mean, I guess I do owe you for not killing me.”

The offer was genuine. Dream wanted to help. He had time now, to think about the duel and everything that led up to it, and he had put the pieces together. The duel had sealed his fate and if it hadn’t been the duel, it would’ve been something else. Technoblade pressed his nose against Dream’s thigh.

“I’d appreciate the help, man, especially for anything that needs hands,” he said with the noise Dream now understood to be a chuckle. “How about you get some sleep? You keep yawnin’.”

Dream was exhausted. The edge from the nightmare had faded completely but he didn’t want to sleep. He had a dozen questions he wanted to ask Technoblade. He wanted to talk. Stretching, Dream laid down, resting his head on Technoblade’s flank, his bare feet close to the fire.

“I’m not that tired,” lied Dream, looking at the striations in the rock above them. “How old are you?”

Technoblade snorted and Dream rose and fell with the breath.

“Honestly, I can’t remember at this point. It’s been just a little bit difficult to keep track of birthdays in here, just a little. Are you gonna play twenty questions, Dream?” 

Closing his eyes, Dream sighed. He wished he had paid more attention to stories and the history. When Wilbur planted the first flag for Bramglen, Dream hadn’t even been born. The kingdom hadn’t been a threat, it had all been peaceful. Then came the slow encroaching and the fights and George was crowned the new king and he was named the king’s knight and they were no longer playing games in the afternoon. He would carry the marks of what had happened forever and sometimes he wasn’t even sure how they had gotten here.

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about you.”

Another snort from Technoblade made him shake and Dream opened one eye to meet his gaze.

“I could say the same thing about you,” Technoblade pointed out. 

That wasn’t something Dream could argue with so he just shrugged.

“Okay, that’s—that’s fair. What do you want to know?”

Technoblade lifted his head slightly to nudge Dream, tusk brushing against his shoulder.

“When the heck are you gonna let me get some sleep?” he asked.

Dream rolled his eyes and shoved Technoblade. The boar didn’t move.

“Whatever.”

Carefully, Technoblade shifted and turned his head, resting it on Dream’s lap. If Dream had sitting up, the tusk would’ve been right by his face.

“I’m teasin’ you, Dream. What do you wanna know?”

Dream brushed his fingers against the tusk and closed his eyes again. He still had so many questions he wanted to ask and it took him awhile to settle on which one. Then he had to wait for his yawn to pass before he could ask it.

“Okay, well—”

The fire was low when Dream woke up, curled up against Technoblade’s side. His neck was sore from the awkward way that he had been sleeping. Sitting up, he rubbed it, trying to work away the knots that had formed. The pale grey light that heralded daytime filtered through the trees and Dream frowned, glancing over at Technoblade. It was unusual that he was still here – normally, he wandered off as soon as he woke only to return with a melon or bunch of berries – and Dream felt a moment of panic. He put his hand on Technoblade’s side, feeling his hear beating, but still shook him awake.

Technoblade gave a snort and lifted his head, opening his eyes to look at Dream. For a moment, Dream was expecting to hear that deep voice but there was only silence as Technoblade flicked one ear.

“I didn’t—You did talk last night, right?” he asked, despite knowing the answer. He had to be certain.

Technoblade dipped his head before getting to his feet. He gave a great shake, sending dirt and dust flying. Dream shielded his face with his arm.

“I thought I was going crazy for a moment.” Pain flared at the base of his spine and up his back as Dream moved to the pile of wood to add more to the fire. “Are you going to—to go look for a deer today?”

Technoblade tapped a hoof against the ground once, slowly and deliberately. A grin twitched across Dream’s face.

“Cool, do you want some help?”

Dream knew the answer to that question, too. Technoblade sniffed him, taking a deep breath then exhaled hard. He tapped his hoof twice with a shake of his head.

“I don’t smell that bad anymore,” said Dream, trying to sneakily give himself a sniff, just to be certain. It had been awhile since his full bath in the creek and the daily sweat and grime had begun to build up once again. He didn’t know the woods as well as Technoblade; if the deer didn’t hear him coming, they’d probably smell him. He gave a sigh. “Alright, whatever.”

Stepping closer, Technoblade pressed his snout against Dream’s shoulder for a moment. Dream reached up and gave him a light pat on his cheek before Technoblade moved back a few paces.

“I’ll—I can go to the creek on my own. Maybe catch a fish or—or something.”

Technoblade stopped in the process of walking into the clearing and looked at him. His head dipped slightly, eyes locked on Dream. It took Dream a moment to understand the meaning of the look.

“It’s fine, Techno,” he said, stumbling over the other’s name in his frustration born of shame and anger. “I’m not—I’m not a fucking baby, I’m not helpless. I can do things on my own.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Dream felt bad. He knew the forest was dangerous and that he was in no shape to protect himself, not yet. The concern from Techno didn’t feel condescending or like pity, but honest and pragmatic. An apology stuck in Dream’s throat and he looked away. Techno gave a soft huff and dipped his head even further.

“I-I have the fire and the spear, I’ll be fine.”

Technoblade tapped his hoof against the ground once and Dream couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face. The feeling of shame had begun to fade.

“When you first were sent here, was it hard?” asked Dream. He couldn’t imagine that it was – the reason he hadn’t asked last night, during his stream of questions – but he was thinking about the concern and the tone of Techno’s voice when he spoke about the curse. 

It took while for the answer to come but Techno dipped his head low.

Dream had never seen a deer like the one Technoblade dragged back around noon, judging by the pinprick of light directly overhead, through the leaves. The deer was huge, twice the size of a regular deer but still smaller than Techno by far, and its coat was dusty looking, an ash brown color that was almost black around the neck and chest. Its antlers looked like spindly, dead branches. Putting aside the rabbit skin that he had been scrapping the back of, Dream sat up straight.

“You actually got one,” he said, surprised.

Techno dropped the deer carcass a few feet from the edge of the rock overhang then stared at Dream with his head tilted slightly to the side. Dream could imagine him saying ‘are you serious’. He got up, trying not to stumble when he did, and crouched by the deer. It was still warm to the touch. Its neck was twisted awkwardly and foamy blood clung to its muzzle. The force used to snap its neck was clear. If things had gone differently, that could’ve been him.

“I’ve only skinned a deer once,” admitted Dream. He looked down at the bone knife he had been working on. “And—And I had an actual knife.”

The task was daunting but the thought of cooked meat was appealing and he wanted something to cover himself better; the shift rode uncomfortably high when he tried to move around and it was the only piece of clothing he was wearing, leaving him feeling terribly exposed. He picked up the bone knife.

“What happens if I make a mess?”

Techno looked at him and then looked up at the sky, shifting back and forth. The meaning of that particular gesture was lost on Dream and he shrugged. The deer was far enough away from where he slept that he supposed it wouldn’t matter. A few more weeks and they might be able to put their plan into action and they could leave this forest and the clearing behind. He took a breath and pressed the knife to the belly of the deer.

Skinning the deer had been bloody work and Dream was glad that he had decided to wait until after Technoblade returned to go to the creek. Bits of blood and fur had stuck to him and it had taken him awhile to clean it all off. The shift was stained even worse, more ruddy brown than white at this point. It had been laid out near the fire to dry and Dream had awkwardly covered himself with the rabbit pelts that he had cleaned. Before, he hadn’t truly cared that Techno saw him naked but he could hear the boar’s voice in his head and couldn’t help the blush on his cheeks.

Technoblade had done his best not to look, staying back at the clearing when Dream said he wanted to go to the creek on his own. He had nodded and took a leg of the deer in his mouth, the sound of bone crunching following Dream down the trail. Now he sat with his eyes closed as Dream sat with his back against his side.

A pile of broken antler tines were on the ground next to Dream. The deer’s antlers were spindly but strong and the points were sharp. Dream had tried breaking them with a rock but in the end, he had resorted to getting to use his hoof and weight to snap them off. He picked one up and tried to check the balance. His hand still trembled but not as badly. He put that one down and grabbed another, doing the same with more success.

“I think—I think I can make a knife from this,” he said, pressing the tip of the antler against his thumb.

Techno gave a soft oink and Dream glanced at him. His eyes were still closed, the wrinkles at the corners telling him that he was working to keep them closed. A smile settled on Dream’s face and he leaned back, resting his head on Techno, his hair still damp. The clearing was stained with blood and the smell was in the air. He had to remind himself that it wasn’t his blood, that it hadn’t been his flesh he was cutting. He shuddered and cleared his throat.

“I don’t know if it’d be good for cutting.”

The smile on Dream’s face had gone and his voice cracked a little. He hated that so often his thoughts went back to what had happened in the dungeon. He should be over it. They had a plan to escape and all Dream could think about was watching his own blood spill across the stone floor.

This is so fucking stupid, he thought, choking back a sob as quietly as he could. It’s pathetic. I’m pathetic.

Lifting his head, Techno opened his eyes. He swung his head around and nudged Dream gently, hot and wet snout against his cheek.

“I’m—It’s stupid,” said Dream, giving voice to his thoughts, trying to convince himself and Technoblade. “It’s nothing.”

Techno sniffed loudly a few times, breath on Dream’s ear, and it pulled an involuntary laugh from Dream that turned into a yawn. 

“Close your eyes.”

Techno immediately closed his eyes. Dream gathered up the pieces of antler and set them near the side wall of the rock, next to the other supplies he had collected: chert rocks that he could use for tools, small fishbones and larger bones he didn’t want to think about the origins of, anything that could pass as twine or string. Whether or not he would have use for all of the items, Dream felt a sense of pride he had gathered this much to begin with. He moved back to Techno’s side and curled up, shoving the rabbit pelts beneath his head.

“Good night, Techno,” he said and the response was a series of quiet oinks that followed him as he drifted off.

The smell of blood invaded his sleep.  

Dream could taste it. It was choking him. Hands on his throat, blood in his mouth, as his body strained against the cold metal holding him down. The dungeon cell was gone and he looked up at the branches of the trees, waving in the wind. He couldn’t feel the wind. He only felt pain and a burning in his lungs and weight on top of him. Long fingers stretched down from the trees, pulling at his limbs and twisting.

He screamed.

He was still screaming when Techno pressed his wide forehead against him. Without thinking, Dream shoved him away, knocking his wrist against Techno’s tusk and sending a jolt of pain through his arm. His eyes filled with tears.

“Fuck! Fucking— Shit.”

Dream curled his hand into a fist and slammed it into his thigh, over and over. Techno snorted and nudged him again, firmer this time, and Dream dropped his hands into his lap. His breath hitched painfully and he could feel tears falling onto his skin. Only then did it occur to him that he was naked, the white shift still sitting by the fire. He felt hot with embarrassment and shame and put his arm over his chest.

“What—What the fuck is wrong with me?” he asked, voice thick.

Technoblade gave a soft snort and rested his large chin on top of Dream’s head. The weight made Dream sink down slightly. He took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to fight the tears. It was a battle he lost and he pressed his face into Techno’s side, body shaking as he cried. All he could think of was the dungeon and the times he had curled into ball, in pain and trying desperately not to sob. Beneath his hand, he could feel Techno’s coarse fur and he dug his fingers in and held on.

In the morning, Dream’s face was streaked with dried tears and his eyes were swollen and his head hurt. There was a weight on his side that for a brief moment made panic well up in his chest but he could feel Techno breathing. He opened his eyes, rubbing away the crust. Techno was resting his head on Dream’s side and with the fire and soft rabbit pelts under his own head, it was the warmest he had been. His eyes fluttered closed again with a sigh. The shift had to be dry by now and he had to pee and his stomach was starting to growl but the warmth was comforting after last night.

It was Technoblade that moved first a bit later. He stood as slowly and as quietly as a creature of his size could. Dream kept his eyes closed, knees pulled up enough to cover himself, and he could hear Techno pause with a soft snort before this hoof steps faded away. Dream sat up. He could see the branches shaking from where Techno passed down the trail. 

Getting up, Dream brushed himself off as best he could, trying not to pay too much attention to the scars on his body while the cause was still so fresh in his mind. He picked up the shift that was only damp at the seams and pulled it over his head. Then he moved to the rock wall near where he kept his supplies, picked up one of the rocks, and added a tally next to the others. Fourteen days since he had started counting. The days before that were a blur of hunger and pain and fear. He tossed the rock back down.

There was still blood on the ground in the clearing and Dream found himself kicking dirt over it, trying to cover it. He didn’t feel guilty for the deer’s death but he wasn’t sure he could eat the rest of the meat he had cooked yesterday while looking at it. Not when he kept thinking about his blood when he saw the stains. By the time he had managed to hide most of the blood, Techno was returning.

Dream raised a hand in greeting before he moved back to the fire. He added a few more pieces of wood as he sat. Next to the fire, a large stick had been stuck into the ground and skewered on it was a piece of deer meat. Techno had no need to store his food – the rest of the carcass was sitting by the pile of bones and he would finish it when he wanted – but Dream did. He was working with very little at his disposal. Sitting, he pulled the stick from the ground and bit into the meat. It was cold now and the grease had congealed a little on the stick, making his fingers slip. He watched as Techno ambled over to the carcass and looked away as he began to dig into what remained.

Gross, he thought with no real conviction behind it. He had been pissing in the woods for days and had certainly eaten more than a handful of dirt along the way. It wasn’t his place to judge.

Dream ate until the meat was gone and his stomach was cramping, still unused to being full. He tossed the grease covered stick away and started to wipe his hands off on the shift but stopped. As worn down and stained as it was, it was his only clothing. He got to his feet. Immediately the deer meat attempted to come back up but he clenched his jaw and swallowed.

Techno swung his head in his direction. Blood colored his snout and he blinked slowly. One of his ears flicked backward.

“I’m going to the creek to—to get some water and clean up,” he said, holding up his hands as an explanation.

Techno nodded, eyes flicking towards the trail that led to the creek and shifting his weight on his feet. The desire to ask Techno to come with him bubbled up but he felt silly for the thought. He needed to pee and Technoblade would be there when he got back.

Dream had a routine.

He woke up in the morning and added wood to the fire and added a tally to his count. Then he would eat a little, some of the nuts or berries or mushrooms that he had been collecting with Techno’s help, before heading down to the creek for water. Dream had yet to figure out a way to store water up at the clearing; he had tried using half a melon that he had cleaned out but it made the water sickly sweet and never lasted very long before picking up a sour note under the sweetness.

After he returned from the creek, the rest of the day was usually spent foraging with Techno, slowly being able to keep up more often, or working on cleaning the hides or sharpening the antler or bones. He would do a set of stretches and try not to think about how easily he used to be able to touch his toes or how even after all these days, the pain hadn’t fully faded. He would sit on the ground and stare up at the tree branches and the sky beyond them. Sometimes he would talk to Techno about whatever crossed his mind and sometimes they spent the day in silence.

When the forest darkened, Dream would lay down on the pile of animals pelts that he had collected – five rabbit and two weasel – and a moment later, Techno would lay down next to him. It was always cold in the forest but with the fire and pelts, Dream was warm enough. He didn’t need to sleep against Techno’s side. But hearing the steady rhythm of Techno’s heart beat was comforting, a reminder that he wasn’t alone. The nightmares came sometimes but none were as bad as the first two.

Then he would wake up again, neck a little sore, hips a little sore, and start all over.

Dream got up and rolled his shoulders, listening to his joints crackle. He had gotten used to a lot, living in the forest, but there was no amount of time that could pass to make sleeping on the ground truly comfortable. Techno got up and stretched, opening his large mouth in a yawn, before wandering to the middle of the clearing and dropping down to his side. He rolled around in the loose, sandy dirt.

A snort of laughter escaped Dream and he shook his head, mouth pressed together in a tight smile. He added the nineteenth tally mark to the wall. Crouching down, he grabbed a handful of berries. There was still a bit of rabbit meat that he had carefully wrapped up in a large leaf and he finished that off as well. It was better by far than the raw potatoes that had often begun to sprout he had been fed in the dungeon.

Techno got up and shook himself, a cloud of dust exploding off him. He took a couple steps towards Dream then stopped, dipping his head and swishing his tail back and forth. 

“Are you going out to hunt?” asked Dream, knees cracking as he stood. He winced; he no longer lost his balance as he stood but things that had been easy once still took more effort than they should.

Techno tapped his hoof once.

“Okay—I’m—I’m going to work on my stupid belt.”

The belt had been frustrating Dream for days now. He had folded the deer skin over and cut a ragged hole in the middle but it slid and turned constantly. Making a belt had seemed like a simple and easy solution but it was proving to be more difficult than he thought to tie the uncut hides together. He hadn’t wanted to cut them – the knifes he had made could puncture flesh but didn’t cut well, in the first place – because he wanted to continue to use them as a pillow but it seemed he had no choice.

Techno gave a series of oinks that Dream knew was his equivalent of laughter. He rolled his eyes.

“Well, to be fair, it’s not easy,” he said. “Do you have any brilliant ideas?”

Techno tapped his hoof twice against the ground.

“Okay, then, shut up, Technoblade.”

Snorting, Techno stepped up to Dream and headbutted him gently, the giant tusks on either side of him. With another roll of his eyes, Dream pressed his hand to the side of Techno’s head for a moment before Techno stepped back. He turned with a swish of his tail and headed off into the forest. Dream sighed quietly then went back to the overhang to work on his belt.

The belt was passable now. Dream had used one badly cut piece of a rabbit hide and the two weasel skins and a fish bone to pierce the skins enough to thread some of the scavenged rope strands through the holes. His fingers ached terribly and he had stabbed himself the thin, pointy bone more than once, making bright red beads of blood form on the tips of his fingers. But the belt did its job and held the deer skin in place and Dream felt an odd surge of pride.

He had been sent here to die and he lived.

Dream tightened the belt, wondering if he had put on any weight. He couldn’t tell; his ribs were still visible and his cheeks still felt sunken to the touch but he was no constantly longer light-headed with hunger.

From the forest came the sounds of something large crashing through the underbrush and Dream frowned, sitting up and reaching for his spear. He was expecting Techno to return but the boar was never so loud, keeping to the well trodden paths and moving quietly despite his size. Dream’s heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his ears. His eyes scanned the edge of the clearing. A sapling bent forward with a snap and Techno emerged from the trees, a rabbit in his mouth.

A greeting was on the tip of Dream’s tongue, shoulders sagging with relief, but then he noticed the blood on Techno’s side. Techno staggered half-way into the clearing, dropped the rabbit, and then dropped to his side, panting. The panic came back full force. Dream lurched to his feet.

“Techno—What happened?”

Techno lifted his head slightly, the whites of his eyes visible, breathing loud and ragged. A piece of wood, as thick as Dream’s wrist, was sticking out of his side. The end was snapped clean and smeared with blood. Dream winced; he could imagine Techno falling onto a dead branch and having to lift himself up enough to twist and break it. Kneeling, Dream smoothed his hand along Techno’s snout.

“I—I—Fuck. I need to pull this out,” he said.

The sound Techno made was soft and pained. Dream frowned. He stroked Techno’s forehead in apology. The moment he wrapped his hands around the branch, Techno gave a grunt and closed his eyes, head flopping onto the ground. Dream’s frown deepened but he tightened his grip and pulled with all his strength. At first the branch didn’t give but then suddenly it slid out. Blood sprayed across Techno’s side and the ground and Dream fell backwards. Techno squealed, one leg kicking out.

“It’s okay. It’s…”

The wound was slowly oozing dark blood. There were no bandages, no way for Dream to clean the wound or stop the bleeding. He felt suddenly helpless. Dream swallowed and pressed his hand to Techno’s side, trying to see how bad the injury truly was. It didn’t seem as deep as he feared but he knew nothing about giant boar anatomy.

“Do—You don’t think it hit an organ, do you?” he asked, voice cracking despite his best efforts to sound calm.

Techno opened his eyes and slowly dragged his front leg against the ground twice. The sigh from Dream was more like a sob that had died before it could fully form. He leaned forward and pressed his head against Techno’s side. The fear that the injury could have been fatal had been heavy and Dream realized it wasn’t merely because Techno was his way out. In a strange way, that was calming. He wanted out, to see the sun again and not a pale dot in a grey sky through the trees. But if that never happened, he wouldn’t be alone. He would have Technoblade.

“Yeah, that’s—that’s good.” He sat up and wiped at his eyes. “I don’t think I can help you up and—and you probably shouldn’t move anyway.”

Techno lifted his head a little and tried to get his front legs underneath himself. Dream knew what he was trying to do and draped himself over Techno’s side, at his shoulders, using his weight to stop him from getting up.

“Are you serious?” Beneath him, Techno gave up and laid back down. “You’re an idiot. You can never call me stubborn again.”

A soft oink came from Techno as he closed his eyes. Hands still on Techno’s side, Dream sat up and leaned back. The wound was still bleeding. He needed to do something to stop it. Standing, Dream went to the overhang and grabbed one of the rabbit pelts. It wouldn’t be the best and he would have to hold it until the bleeding stopped but it would work. He shook it off, dislodging any dirt, then returned to Techno’s side.

“Just don’t move this time,” he said, pressing the pelt to Techno’s side with one hand. Techno lifted his head again, swinging it towards Dream. With his free hand, Dream stroked the mane of hair between his ears until Techno’s eyes closed and he rested his head on the ground, warm breath on Dream’s leg. Dream kept his hand on Techno’s head and sat there, waiting for the blood to stop flowing.

Dream’s head jerked upwards.

He had dozed off, head dropping awkwardly, and he grimaced. His neck was sore and his hand had slipped, dropping the rabbit pelt that he had been holding to Techno’s side. The boar was sleeping, snoring steadily. Dream shifted, trying to get some feeling back in his legs, and checked the wound. The blood was sticky and had stopped flowing. He exhaled, relieved. If Techno moved, it would likely open back up but he seemed deep in his slumber.

Looking towards the overhang, Dream considered getting up and going to lay down by the fire. The flames were low. His mouth pulled into a frown and he stood as quietly as possible. The pile of firewood was smaller – he had meant to gather some today – and he put on what was left. It would last the night. Dream looked back at Techno then grabbed the other rabbit pelts and returned to his side. The noise roused Techno and he opened his eyes.

“Sorry,” he said and then when Techno began to lift his head, added, “Don’t move.”

Techno obliged, only following Dream’s movements with his eyes. Dream laid down, facing him, and tucked the rabbit pelts under his head. He pulled his knees in. With the deer hide, it wasn’t as cold as he had feared but his feet were cold. Techno’s breath was warm on his face. Dream scooted a little closer and reached out to put his hand on the side of Techno’s face. Techno stretched his neck out and pressed his snout to Dream’s forehead. It was gentle and the warmth on Dream’s face spread to his chest.

Later, he wouldn’t know why he did it, only that it felt right, but Dream tilted his head up and kissed Techno’s snout. His cheeks went hot and he started to stutter out an apology but Techno oinked softly and nuzzled against his face. The noise sounded amused and if he had been able to speak now, Dream wondered if Techno would be teasing him. He thought of all the exaggerated stares and snorts and decided he probably would. A smile pulled at his mouth and Dream rolled his eyes, fingers brushing over the short, coarse hairs on Techno’s cheek.

“Whatever. Just—Just stay still and don’t bleed to death like an idiot.”

Techno stayed very still.

The bleeding had mostly stopped in the morning, the blood forming a large, dark scab. Dream examined it while Techno lay on his side, legs sticking out, and only moving his eyes. It was ridiculous and Dream was holding back laughter, bottom lip quivering slightly. He sat back on his heels and brushed his hands off.

“I—I mean, if you don’t move around too much, it probably won’t start bleeding again,” Dream said, picking up the rabbit hide he had used to stem the blood flow. The fur was stiff from the dried blood. “I should wash this and I need to piss.”

Techno gave a snort and slowly sat up. He sniffed at the wound then sniffed at Dream. Patting his snout, Dream stood. His feet and legs tingled and it took a few moments for the feeling to come back. Techno watched him and only stood when Dream had moved back. When he was standing, he swung his head around to check the wound again. The scab still held. Dream sighed.

Turning, still moving carefully, Techno headed towards the creek trail. Dream frowned, wanting to protest but he followed after him. Half way down the trail, Dream went off into the woods and found a place to pee as quickly as he could. When he caught up, Techno was at the edge of the creek, drinking. He lifted his head as Dream approached.

“Hey,” Dream said, kneeling and dipping his hands into the water, rubbing them together. The scabs on his fingers had fallen off and his nails had partially grown back.  

Next to him, Techno nudged his shoulder gently, water dripping down off his snout. Dream took the bloody rabbit pelt and soaked it in the creek. The water turned red almost immediately and he folded the pelt over, rubbing it together. He continued until the water ran clear then wrung out the pelt. Setting it aside, Dream twisted his hair together to keep it from getting wet – it was too long now with nothing to tie it back – before leaning down to drink. The water was cold and felt good on his dry tongue.

Dream stood. The path wasn’t wide but he walked back by Techno’s side, the rabbit pelt leaving behind a trail of water drops. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, it wasn’t the sort of silence Dream had gotten used to in the dungeon where if he had opened his mouth, he might have screamed and never stopped. The silence was the sort where they both knew everything that might have been said. Dream’s shoulder brushed against Techno’s side as they walked.

At the clearing, Dream tried to ignore the blood that was staining the ground. Techno had lagged behind him slight, breathing heavier than normal. It made Dream frown. Even if the wound wasn’t life threatening, the pain and loss of blood would’ve taken its toll. Dream knew that. The rabbit lie where Techno had dropped it before collapsing. Dream gestured to it.

“You should eat that,” he said. “I’ve got—There’s still some food I’ve been saving and I wasn’t bleeding all over the place.”

Techno looked at the rabbit and then looked Dream with a snort.

“Well, I’m not eating it so it’s your loss or whatever.”

Techno snorted again and if pigs could roll their eyes, Dream knew he would be rolling his. It was a struggle to hold back his grin as Techno sniffed the rabbit. He turned towards the overhang as Techno crunched down the rabbit. The fire was still going but just barely. He would need to gather more wood and soon.

But first, he marked the rock face with one more tally. Twenty days.

It took six days for Techno’s wound to fully scab over. He still had to move slower, a lesson he had learned the hard way on the second day when the wound had reopened. Dream had scolded him, called him an idiot, and Techno had oink-laughed at him, snout pressed against Dream’s side.

On the seventh day, Dream was already awake and restless when Techno slowly got to his feet. He turned to sniff at the injury then sniffed at Dream. The coarse whiskers on his chin tickled and Dream shoved him away before rolling onto his side with a huff of laughter. Pushing himself up, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Techno had given up the game and was already heading across the clearing and towards the one path he took in the morning to do his business. It reminded Dream that he needed to do the same and he got to his feet with a groan.

When he returned, Techno still wasn’t back. A tiny seed of worry pricked at the back of Dream’s mind – if something happened to him, something serious, he wouldn’t be able to help – but he pushed it away and munched down a handful of nuts, berries, and mushrooms. It would’ve been a terrible combination normally but Dream ate it happily, eyes on the trail Techno had gone down.

It was only a few moments before Techno appeared from the forest, branches rustling as he passed by.

“Hey,” said Dream, wiggling his fingers in front of the fire. A smile crept across his face. “So, when—when a boar shits in the woods does—”

He didn’t get to finish the joke. Techno stopped in the middle of the clearing and stared at Dream. Then he shook his head slowly, in a way that Dream could only describe as completely done, and turned around. The display made Dream laugh. He doubled over, breath wheezing and lungs cramping. He was still laughing when Techno stopped in front of him with an amused huff, large head tilted to the side and one ear flicking towards him.

“Come on. You’ve—You’ve got to admit, it was funny.”

Dream’s smile was so wide, his cheeks ached. It had been a long time since he smiled so much, laughed so much. With a few quiet oinks, Techno shook his head again.

“It was funny, Techno,” said Dream, rolling his eyes, the grin still on his face. He felt light. He stretched his leg out and nudged Techno’s hoof with his bare foot. Techno carefully lifted his hoof and tapped the ground once right next to Dream’s foot. He was strong enough that he could turn Dream’s bones to powder easily but he didn’t. Dream nudged him again. “I knew you thought it was funny.”

Huffing, Techno pressed his nose to Dream’s forehead before he stepped back just as carefully. Dream didn’t move, watching. There had to be a sort of irony in the fact the first person to be so careful or gentle with him in months was a man cursed to be a monster.

“I want to go get some berries or something.”

In the pile of his supplies, there was a bunch of berries wrapped up in a large leaf. Dream didn’t need more, not really, but he was antsy. It was the first time since he had been left to die in the forest that he wanted to get up and do something and not simply because he had to for survival. Techno tilted his head, looking at him with half-closed eyes. It felt like a smile. He tapped his hoof once.

“Cool,” Dream said, getting to his feet with a groan. He took a moment to stretch out his limbs – he had lost so much of his mobility and was slowly trying to regain it – before nodding at Techno. “Let’s go.”

Techno turned towards one of the animal trails, walking slowly, so that Dream could catch up with him. The path wasn’t wide but Techno drifted half off it, trampling underbrush beneath him so that Dream could walk next to him, shoulder bumping into Techno’s side every so often. Occasionally an insect would trill or a bird would give a warning call but it was rare enough that Dream felt as if they were the only living things in the forest.

“Was—Was this forest always this way?”

The trees seemed old with wide, gnarly trunks and Dream thought it must’ve been here for ages, even longer than Bramglen’s castle, even longer than the seemingly unageing king with his strange parentage. Next to him, Techno snorted and shook his head, ears flapping. Dream’s eyes widened a little.

“So, it was cursed when you were?”

Techno nodded. It made sense because, somehow, life other than Techno had managed to eek out an existence in this place. Dream felt a weird camaraderie with those who had dug in and refused to leave.

 “Huh,” said Dream and they fell into the comfortable silence that had become so familiar as they walked.

The berry bushes lined both sides of the trail and Techno slowed down a little more but Dream put a hand on his side and kept walking. The trail continued past though he had never been further than the bushes. There had been no reason to. Techno sniffed lightly at Dream, warm breath on his ear.

“Okay, well, to be fair, I did say or something,” he said with a lop-sided grin.

Techno’s nostrils flared as he gave a huff, head dipping to the side and lightly nudging Dream. It was light but Dream still stumbled a little and, without thinking, he grabbed onto Techno’s tusk, still grinning. He felt the strange sharp edge under his palm. Techno went still, red eye locked on Dream.

“I’m fine. I’m not—I’m not fragile, Techno.”

Both of them knew the irony in that statement and they both also knew it was safe for him to be fragile here. Dream was still holding onto Techno’s tusk and Techno shook his head a little, shaking Dream with it and eliciting a peal of laughter.

“Asshole,” said Dream, letting go when he had regained his balance.

They walked in comfortable silence until Dream’s legs began to burn and a part of him was regretting the decision to go for a walk in the first place. His pace slowed, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. Techno stopped and looked back at him.

“Sorry, it’s just—I thought I could go further,” he said, wincing at the admission.

Techno looked at him, lowered his head for a moment, before shuffling a few feet further along the path and stepping off it. Bushes rustled and twigs snapped. Frowning, Dream took a step forward, wondering what he was doing. He was about to call out when Techno backed up. He held what looked like half a bush in his mouth. The thin branches were covered in deep green leaves and dotted with pale pink flowers. Techno stopped in front of Dream and dropped the branches at his feet.

“Did—” A smile twitched across Dream’s face as he bent down to pick up one of the branches. It was covered with small, straight thorns that were softer to the touch than Dream though they’d be. The flowers were flat, made up of five petals, with a white and yellow center. “Did you just give me flowers?”

Techno snorted and jerked his head back a little, a half-hearted denial.

“Right,” said Dream, rolling his eyes. Carefully, he pinched one of the blossoms off and tucked into Techno’s coarse mane. The thorns held it there. “It’s kind of—It’s lame but thanks, I guess.”

With another soft snort, Techno pressed his snout against the side of Dream’s head and Dream felt his cheeks go hot. The smell of rose filled his nose as he carefully gathered a few of the branches and discard the rest.

“Give me a ride back.”

Any other time, Dream would’ve felt embarrassed asking, would’ve tried to make it back to the clearing on his own, but he didn’t. Techno let out a few amused oinks and knelt down. Still clutching the rose branches, he climbed up onto Techno’s back and they headed back to the clearing.

Techno sat at the edge of the overhang, looking up at the sky.

He had been sitting there for awhile as Dream picked around the bones and scales of the fish he had caught earlier in the day. It was a lot of effort for not much food but he didn’t like always relying on Techno to feed him. He wanted to be useful, to do something. For awhile, he had been afraid that he would always be useless. When there was no more edible bits of fish, Dream selected a few bones that looked sturdy with a good point and set them aside before brushing his hands off.

Techno was still sitting in the same spot, still looking up at the sky. Dream frowned.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Techno tilted his head. He got up and began sniffing around the edge of the clearing as Dream watched. It was hard to make out what he was doing but after a moment he turned and walked to Dream. Stopping in front of him, Techno dropped a rock onto the ground.

“I was waitin’,” he answered.

It felt like Dream’s stomach did a flip and his heart began racing. He leaned forward, trying to stop himself from grinning, mouth quivering.

“It’s the, uh, new moon?”

The sky was darker than normal and Dream had added almost thirty marks to the rock since the first night that Techno had spoken. Techno nudged him softly with his snout.

“It is.”

Dream rested his forehead against Techno, reaching up with both hands and placing them on either side of Techno’s face. He stayed like that for a while, until Techno gave a quiet chuckle.

“Yeah,” said Techno, “it’s good to be able to talk to you, too, Dream.”

Heat rose on Dream’s cheeks and he pulled back.

“I didn’t actually miss talking to you,” he lied. Dream had missed it. Being around Techno, even when he couldn’t speak, was pleasant and comforting and he liked it. But he liked hearing Techno’s voice and his deadpan jokes and his laugh, even when he was teasing him. “Maybe a little.”

Techno snorted.

“Oh, of course, Dream. I believe you, I believe you.”

Dream rolled his eyes, laughing quietly.

“Whatever, you’re an idiot.”

Techno nudged him with his snout, making him loose his balance a little, the laughter growing. The hair on his chin tickled Dream’s face and neck. It took a lot of self-control for Dream not to throw his arms around Techno’s wide neck and hold on.

“If you say so, man.” Techno finally stepped back. “Are you feelin’ up to a little adventure tonight?”

The stone and the tree had slipped Dream’s mind. He didn’t know why, only that leaving had become less of a priority for him. The routine was a comfortable one, all things considered, and there were no politics to dance around, no looming war. He missed his friends but there was a little voice in the back of his head that said despite being in that dungeon, being tortured for months, no one had come for him. Dream shifted, finger picking at the deer hide he wore, frowning. Then a thought hit him.

“How do we break your curse? Like, what do we need to do?”

Techno tilted his head, eyes on Dream long enough that Dream thought he was mentally peeling back each layer of him. The soft expression made Dream think he didn’t mind what he saw. Dream blushed and waited.

“There’s a bell in the tower,” said Techno. “I need to be there and it needs to be rung while the moon is full. Not really the most dramatic thing in the world but eh.”

Dream remembered the castle and the tallest tower that stretched high over the rest. Getting up there would be a challenge but he nodded.

“Okay, so, if we go get the stone now, we’ll have…” He narrowed his eyes as he counted in his head. “Fourteen days to get ready to storm the castle?”

Techno made a noise that Dream couldn’t place.

“Hold on, hold on. I’m not sure how fond I am of the idea of you storming the castle, man. Look at you, you’ve barely got clothes, Dream. Nah, we’ll get you out of here and you can wait while I deal with breaking the curse,” he said.

It took a second for Techno’s words to sink in.

“WHAT?” He sat forward. “Are you serious? No, no way, Techno. I’m going to help. You’ll need me. You don’t have thumbs, remember?”

Techno winced before pressing his head against Dream’s cheek. Dream was still frowning, arms crossed over his chest, but he felt himself soften a bit.

“Listen, I really don’t want you gettin’ yourself killed on my behalf. They’re gonna have armor and swords. They’ll hurt you, Dream.”

The distress in Techno’s voice was clear and deep. Dream uncrossed his arms.

“They already hurt me! They tortured me! For months, Techno! I want to do this,” he said, holding one hand up, fingers spread to display the missing digit. His arm was covered in scars and burns that hadn’t faded. “I want to help you.”

Techno leaned back and touched his snout to Dream’s palm.

“Alright, alright. I don’t like it but I’m not gonna stop you because I get it. You’ve just gotta promise me one thing, okay, Dream? If you see him, you point out which one Quackity is, yeah?”

A smile spread across Dream’s face and he ran his hand along Techno’s snout.

“Deal.”

Techno lifted his head.

“Let’s go get a magic rock.”

Techno had insisted that Dream ride on his back. The heart of the forest was a long ways off, he said, and he wasn’t sure exactly what they would find when they got there. Dream held onto his mane with both hands. A makeshift pouch Dream had made out of one of the rabbit pelts was tucked into his belt. Inside, he brought two of his knives and a few mushrooms, just in case. It wasn’t much but Techno seemed satisfied and that put Dream at ease.

“So, you really don’t know what’s inside the tree?” asked Dream. He rocked back and forth with each step Techno took.

“Nope.” Techno flicked one of his ears and glanced over his shoulder. “There’s an opening in the tree, I can see that from a distance but I can’t get past the flowers and it’s too small for me to fit through, anyway.”

Dream snorted.

“Yeah—Yeah, you’re pretty huge. Were you, like, some kind of giant before?”

The mural on the wall of the castle had only shown Technoblade in silhouette, a large figure in armor looming over the battlefield and his enemies, only vanquished by Wilbur at the end. It was a twisted telling of what really happened, Dream knew that now.

“I mean, I wasn’t some slouch, I was decent. I was decent but I wasn’t a giant,” he said, strained amusement in his voice. “I know how they all saw me.”

Dream let go with one hand and smoothed the rough fur on Techno’s shoulder.

“Yeah… Wait, how are you going to get up to the tower? What if you don’t fit?”

Both of Techno’s ears turned back.

“Oh, I’ll make sure that I fit.”

Dream sat up straighter and almost slipped and had to grab onto Techno’s mane to stop himself from falling off.

“Oh my god. See, you do need me! You would’ve gotten there and not even been able to get up to the bell,” he said, triumphant.

A deep laugh rumbled from Techno as he shook his head.

“Alright, you’ve got me there, Dream, you’ve got me there, but I’ve been there as a human and I’m pretty sure I’ll fit. Besides, I’d make it work even if I had to tear the dang tower to the ground.”

The determination in his voice made Dream think he was serious. The muscles that Dream could feel moving beneath him made Dream think that he might have been able to do exactly that.

“Yeah, well,” said Dream, curling his fingers in Techno’s mane and scratching his neck gently. “When we get the stone, we travel to the edge of the forest the day before the full moon. Then as soon as it’s night, we can go.”

Techno hummed in agreement.

“That’s a good plan. It’ll take a bit to get to the border and we won’t want to take the main path. I know from experience they have people watching it. The first couple years, I got a few arrows for my trouble,” he said.

Dream had noticed scars on Techno’s thick hide and had wondered where they came from but that seemed like a question he shouldn’t ask; he desperately wanted to forget what had made each of his scars and thought Techno might be the same.

“There’s a service gate on the side of the wall, it’s probably the best option. I mean, they’re going to see you coming no matter what but maybe it’ll be easier to handle.”

Less guards meant fewer arrows that could be loosed in their direction. The idea to make a shield floated in Dream’s mind but he wasn’t sure how he would manage to hold a shield and keep his balance on Techno’s back.

“Good, good.” Techno nodded his head. “Hold on tight.”

The ground began sloping upwards and the trail become more rocky. Dream tightened his grip and leaned forward. He was glad that he had agreed to be carried by Techno. His strength was slowly returning to him and the hollowness of his cheeks had gone but it would take much longer to undo all the damage done. There was no reason to exert himself.

“Are we getting close?” he asked.

Techno lifted his head and sniffed the air.

“Yup. I can smell it.”

Dream took a deep breath in, nostrils flaring, trying to see if he could smell whatever Techno had picked up. There was a slight vinegar scent in the air and Dream recognized it.

“What do I have to do?”

A sudden wave of nervousness hit Dream. It had seemed like such a simple task – get a magic stone from inside a tree – but now he truly realized what that meant. He was getting a magic stone from a tree that grew in the heart of a cursed forest.

“Honestly, I don’t know what’s going to happen when you get in there,” said Techno, slowly. The ground evened out and he came to a stop, looking over his shoulder. “Listen, Dream, if it seems dangerous, get out of there, alright? As much as I want to get out of here and want you to get out, I’d rather you be alive. Got it?”

His words echoed Dream’s own thoughts. He wanted out but not at the cost of Techno’s life. It was a strange thing to understand, that he would rather live here, in this gloomy forest, for the rest of his life than have Techno lose his. And that Techno felt the same about him. His chest was tight.

“Y-yeah. I got it. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

The smell of vinegar was stronger now, mixed with something floral. Ahead, between the trees, Dream could see a clearing and flashes of blue and white. Techno’s breathing became labored and his steps slowed and faltered. A moment later, he stopped. The tree was now visible, a version of the tree he had been tied in front of that was at least four times bigger, the whole trunk twisting upwards. The blood red tint to the leaves was more intense. A ring of blue flowers with white centers lined the entire clearing in an unbroken line.

“I’m sorry, man, I can’t go any further.”

Techno’s voice was strained.

“It’s fine.” Sliding off him, Dream put his hand on the side of Techno’s head. There was a gash in the tree, a pitch black hole between two of the twisting sections. Dream shivered a little. “You—If you want, you can go down the trail to wait.”

Techno shook his head and then pressed his snout to Dream’s cheek and Dream blushed, taking the action for what it was: a kiss.

“Nah, I’m gonna wait right here,” he said. “Remember, be careful.”

Dream looked at Techno and gave a tight smile.

“I will be.”

The tree felt like the biggest thing that Dream had ever seen. He carefully stepped over the flowers, nose wrinkling at the strange smell, and looked back to Techno. He was sitting there, eyes locked on Dream, and lowered his head a little. Dream returned the nod then swallowed and looked away. Even as he got closer, the hole in the tree seemed to be unnaturally dark, as if even the minimal light of the forest couldn’t penetrate it.

Dream stepped onto one of the roots of the tree and pulled himself up. The bark of the tree was cold and smooth and he slipped once before regaining his footing. There was little purchase as he climbed and the hole was higher than it seemed at a distance. When his fingers closed around the rim of the opening, he was breathing heavily and sweat had formed on his brow. He peered into the hole but all he could see was black.

Carefully, Dream put his hand into the hole and felt around. He could feel the sides and the top but no bottom. He considered climbing back down and finding a rock to drop down but that seemed like too much work and he wanted to get this over with. Reaching into his makeshift pouch, he grabbed one of the mushrooms, pricking his finger on a fishbone in the process and drawing a small bead of blood, then dropped it into the hole. Dream held his breath. A second later, he heard a soft thud.

That was good enough for him. He pulled himself up and swung one of his legs over the edge into the hole. Dream took a deep breath. He dropped down, holding onto the rim to slow his descent. His toes brushed something soft and he recoiled, losing his grip. Dead leaves broke his fall and Dream let out a shaky sigh.

Inside the tree, there seemed to be more light though Dream wasn’t sure where it was coming from, if he was merely imagining it or if his eyes had adjusted. In front of him was a path made of twisting wood. It went about four or five feet then veered downwards sharply. Dream stood. The top of the tunnel was a few inches above his head and he tried to ignore that, ignore how it reminded him of the iron tube he had been locked in. He began walking forward.

The longer he walked, the more his eyes adjusted and the more he noticed a sound that he thought was his own heartbeat but just slightly off. It seemed to come from the walls of the tunnel itself. Eventually, the ground stopped being made of twisting roots and was all dirt and mulch. The roots were now the roof of the tunnel. Tiny tendrils hung down and brushed against the top of Dream’s head. He wondered how deep he was; it felt like he had been walking forever and his legs were beginning to burn.

The heartbeat sound grew louder. Ahead, soft blue light filtered into the tunnel. Dream’s mouth was dry and the palms of his hands were sweaty and cold. He put his hand on the bag at his belt, hesitating for a moment, before pulling out the knife made from the deer antler. Quietly as he could, he continued down the tunnel until reaching an entrance to something, blue light seeping through the mess of thin roots that covered said entrance. Dream pulled back the roots, hand shaking, and stepped inside.

The room was made entirely of roots and they were pulsing, thumping. A black, shiny substance coated the roots and Dream immediately understood it as blood. He was standing in the heart of the tree, the heart of the forest. A literal heart. In the center, there was a cluster of tree branches, all twisted together, with two branches coming from the top like antlers. Dream could see points of blue light.

That has to be the stone, he thought.

Gripping the knife, he stepped forward. The cluster of branches moved. It unfolded, limbs stretching out, and lifted its head. It was missing an eye, the remaining one a bright blue. The rabbit like ears were the same leaves from the berry bush but larger and they turned in Dream’s direction. At the end of its legs, there were stone hooves. In its chest, another point of blue light shone.

“What do you seek?” it asked, voice like rustling leaves.

Dream licked his lips.

“Uh, I—The stone? The one that lets you leave this forest,” he said.

The creature darted forward, quicker than Dream would’ve thought it could move, and looked down at him. Dream was certain it hadn’t been so tall before. It titled its head. This close, Dream could the branches of its empty eye socket had been cut away.

“Why do you seek?”

It seemed like a question with an obvious answer but Dream hesitated, thinking.

“I—My friend – the giant boar? – he was cursed. He lives here or—or, actually, he can’t leave.” Dream stuttered over the words. “He needs it to be able to leave because he can’t break the curse otherwise. I mean, I’d like to leave, too, but I guess that’s the real reason.”

The creature leaned forward until its face was an inch away from Dream’s. The breath felt cool like wind and smelled like dirt. It stood there for what felt like an eternity before it pulled back.

“How do you pay?” it asked.

Dream blinked, frowning.

“Pay? For the stone?” He hadn’t even considered he would have to give something for the stone but standing here, he felt like fool for that. Dream looked at the antler knife and for a moment considered that but instead, he opened the bag and dug out the fish bone. It was delicate and curved and white except for the tiny bit of blood on the tip. He held it out. “It’s—It’s a fish bone. I caught the fish in the creek.”

The creature stared at it, unmoving. Dream’s throat was painfully dry.

“I can give you something else—”

The creature plucked the bone from his palm and turned it this way and that way. It nodded.

“You paid. I give,” it said, slipping the bone into the mess of thin branches that formed its hand. It reached up for its remaining eye and began to dig its fingers into the socket.

Dream felt his stomach drop to his feet.

“Wait, what! What are you doing? I-I don’t want your eye. Isn’t there another way?”

The creature laughed, long arms dropping to its side and swayed like a tree in a strong gust. It turned away from Dream and walked to the wall of pulsing roots. The strange heartbeat grew louder. The creature reached into the wall and pulled a chunk out. It squelched like flesh, not wood. Returning to the middle of the room, the creature stood over where it had been sitting when Dream first entered. There was a hole in the ground, like a wound, with small, throbbing roots stretching out from it. The creature held up the chunk of root then squeezed. Thick black blood oozed out, over its hands, and dripped into the hole.

The pounding of the heart was so loud now that it hurt Dream’s ears. From the hole, there came a glowing blue light. The creature gestured to the hole.

“You take,” it said and Dream thought it sounded oddly pleased.

He stepped forward and looked into the hole. Nothing but light was visible. Crouching down, Dream reached inside, tensing, waiting for something to pull him in or to cut his arm off. It didn’t happen. He felt around. It was like sticking his hand in warm mud. His fingers brushed against something hard and smooth. Dream grabbed it and pulled. His arm came out with a pop and he almost fell back. He wiped away the black substance. The stone began glowing with a blue light, faint but there.

“Thanks,” said Dream as he got to his feet. “Thank you. Do I need to do anything else?”

It felt too easy. It felt like he had been tested but Dream wasn’t entirely certain he had passed.

“Do you need to do anything else?” the creature asked.

Dream thought about the question. He put the blue stone into his bag and pulled out the rest of the mushrooms.

“Uh, you can have these, too.”

The creature tilted its head but held out its hand and let Dream drop the mushrooms into its palm.

“You paid. You took. You go,” it said and this time there was no mistaking the bemused tone to its odd voice.

Dream nodded and turned and hurried out into the tunnel, the sound of the strange heartbeat following him. He only slowed when the sound faded. With a shaky breath, Dream glanced down to his bag and checked that the glowing blue stone was still there. A part of him wondered if he had been tricked but he supposed they would find out soon enough.

The way trip back took longer and at some point, Dream stopped walking because his legs were shaking so badly and started to crawl. He wanted water. He wanted to close his eyes and sleep. But he kept pulling himself forward until he was at the hole in the side of the tree. It was just out of reach and he had to jump up to grab it. The first attempt didn’t work and neither did the second attempt but the third time he managed to grab onto the rim and pull himself up.

His exit was less than graceful. He couldn’t swing his leg over the edge, there was no leverage in the way he was dangling. Dream slid out and barely stopped himself from tumbling out, head first. His arm felt like it was being pulled from the socket and he let go almost immediately. He knocked his shoulder against the trunk of the tree and tumbled to the ground.

“Dream!”

Techno’s voice rung out, full of panic. Dream lifted a hand with a grimace.

“I’m fine,” he called back.

He sat there, at the base of the tree, for a moment to catch his breath and wipe the sweat from his forehead. The pain in his shoulder had subsided and he pushed himself to his feet. A light-headed feeling hit him but he gritted his teeth and began to walk towards Techno.

“Are you alright, Dream?” Techno asked, sniffing him up and down.

Dream nodded and leaned into Techno’s side.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’m just tired.” He gestured to his bag, still leaning on Techno. “I got the stone.”

Techno nuzzled against his neck, careful of his tusks.

“I never doubted you for a second,” he said.

Dream gave a short laugh.

“It—It sounds like you did doubt me.”

Pulling back, Techno pressed his snout to Dream’s forehead briefly.

“Me? Never. I can’t believe you’d accuse me of that.” Techno’s voice was full of amusement. He knelt. “C’mon, get on. The moon is going to go down soon.”

A sharp pang of disappointment twisted in Dream’s chest. He wanted to be able to hear Techno’s voice for longer. His hand went to the bag. Half a month and they might be able to break the curse. Then they could leave and find a place, away from everything, and Techno could talk whenever he wanted.

“Yeah, sure,” said Dream, climbing onto Techno’s back. He dug his fingers into Techno’s mane and laid his head down between his wide shoulder blades. “But I didn’t accuse you of anything, for the record.”

Technoblade chuckled as he headed down the trail, away from the heart of the forest.

The sun had risen by the time they made it back to the clearing. Dream didn’t have to look at the sky to know it; Techno had been talking the entire time they traveled back, telling stories from before, trying to keep Dream awake and keep him from slipping off his back. It had worked and when Techno trailed off and didn’t speak again, Dream mumbled out his own story through yawns.

Techno stopped at the overhang and Dream slid down his side, swaying for a second and using Techno to steady himself. The fire had gone out. Dream sighed. He should fix it now, stir up some of the embers and see if he could coax them back to life but he was exhausted. All he wanted to do was sleep.

“Oh, fuck it,” he groaned, rolling his head back, arms limp at his side.

Dream sat down in front of the fire and grabbed a stick. Stirring the ashes, Dream exposed some of the embers and blew on them. They turned a bright orange. He grabbed a few small pieces of wood and dry leaves from his pile and set them in a little pyramid over the embers. He blew again and kept blowing gently until the fire caught. The fire was burning hot by the time Techno came to lay down behind him. He glanced at Techno as he pulled the bag off his belt and set it aside.

“I’m too tired to even eat anything.”

Letting himself fall back against Techno’s side, Dream closed his eyes. He could feel Techno snort softly beneath him. The corner of his mouth twitched a little and he rolled over onto his side, scooting back until he was pressed against Techno with no room between them. He didn’t even bother getting the rabbit pelts that served as his pillow and instead tucked his arms beneath his head.

“When we get out of here,” said Dream through a yawn, “you and me, we should go somewhere. I—I don’t know where but…”

Techno pressed his snout to the top of Dream’s head. His breath was warm and comforting. Dream’s heart jumped and twisted.

“I don’t think that anyone tried to get me out of there.” It was something painful he had been thinking for awhile and it felt like pulling out a thorn to say it aloud. “So, we could just go somewhere.”

As an answer, Techno lifted his head and rested it on Dream’s side as gently as he could and gave a soft oink. Dream reached up and stroked his mane.

“Good. It’ll be good.”

Dream anxiously counted the days until the full moon.

There were four days left and a mix of emotions swirled in Dream’s chest; excitement and fear and hope and worry. He had sharpened his knives and reinforced his spear. Since the journey to the heart of the forest, Dream had insisted on going with Techno to hunt and to his surprise, Techno hadn’t objected. It had served as good practice, better than attempting to spear fish in the creek. His hands still shook but he had been able to hit two rabbits with a spear toss.

He turned the antler knife over in his hand. A piece of weasel hide had been wrapped around the base, fur side facing inward, to prevent his hand from slipping. It was his favorite knife in part because it didn’t come from another person. But the weight was good and the point was sharp and it had decent reach. Carefully, he balanced it across two fingers. He managed to keep it there for a good seven seconds.

“I’ve narrowed it down,” said Dream, looking up. Techno was watching him, head resting on his front legs. “I can’t bring everything. I barely have any way of carrying what I do have so if I take two knives, the spear, and the stone…”

Trailing off, Dream frowned. He wished he had real clothing and armor and boots. He wished he had an axe and a shield and that his body didn’t ache for no reason sometime. It was as if the pain inflicted on him in the dungeon had burrowed into his bones. Techno lifted his head and gave a soft oink.

“I’m going to be fucking useless like this in a fight, Techno.” His vision went blurry. “It’s so fucking stupid, I—I didn’t used to be like this.”

Techno got to his feet and moved to Dream’s side, nudging him softly on the shoulder.

“I know, I’m being—I’m being a whiny baby,” Dream said, heel of his hand pressed to one eye. He felt ridiculous.

Techno swung his head back and forth slowly with a snort. The disagreement was clear and Dream’s mouth trembled as he rolled his eyes. There was no heart behind the action. He wanted to move, talk about something else, but when Dream opened his mouth, the question that had been swirling in his mind came out instead, “Do—do you think I’m useless?”

Techno tapped his hoof twice, firmly and deliberately, eyes locked on Dream A shaky breath escaped Dream and he leaned forward and rested his forehead against Techno’s side.

“Thanks.”

Dream sat like that for awhile, listening to Techno’s steady heartbeat. The war of emotions were still there but they had faded a little. He reached up and ran his hand across Techno’s hide with a sigh before sitting up.

“Okay, I remember the layout of the yard.” Dream dragged a finger through the dirt as Techno watched. “The service gate is here. There’s guard towers here and here.”

Techno dipped his head, examining the map. A puff of his breath blew some of the dirt away, obscuring the map Dream was making. Sitting back, Dream looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Techno shrunk his head into his wide shoulders with a series of quiet oinks, chagrined. Then he scooted back a foot.

“I’ll start over,” said Dream with a smile.

The morning of the full moon, Dream marked a tally on the rock. It didn’t matter –he wouldn’t be back to count the days if everything went right – but he did it anyway, counting up the all days, wondering if he had forgotten a few. Two months spent living in this forest with Techno and part of Dream would miss it. He wouldn’t miss sleeping on the ground or eating badly cooked rabbit but he would miss the strange peace he felt here. He hadn’t known he wanted something like that until he was here. Dream double checked his belongings, making sure he had the glowing blue stone and the freshly sharpened knives and a few fishbones, just in case. There was no reason to bring food this time because either they would be free or dead but he hesitated at the dried pink roses, still on the branch. They would get crushed, however, so Dream set them carefully on top of everything else he was leaving behind.

In the clearing, Techno sat staring up at the sky. The light that filtered through the trees was paler than usual and Dream thought it must be a cloudy morning. He kicked dirt over the fire, burying it, and dusted his hands off on the deer skin before going to join Techno.

“I’m ready if you are,” he said, trying to sound calm despite the way his heart was racing.

Techno turned to him and stared for a moment, long enough that Dream felt warmth spread across his cheeks. Then Techno pressed his snout to Dream’s cheek and without thinking, Dream turned his head and kissed the side of Techno’s snout. He knew why he did it this time. Techno huffed softly and nudged his shoulder. He took a few steps back and knelt down so Dream could climb onto his back. Dream didn’t argue. He would need all his strength for what was to come.

Pulling himself up, Dream took one last look around the clearing that had been his home for the last two months and Techno’s home for much longer. He threaded his fingers through Techno’s mane, holding the spear awkwardly with one hand.

“Okay, let’s go.”

The journey to the edge of the forest took most of the day. Dream could barely remember his walk into the forest, he had been delirious with pain and hunger and exhaustion. Halfway through this trip, he had become nervous, afraid they should’ve left earlier but he had to trust that Techno knew how long it would take. Even still, it took more self-control than he liked to admit not to constantly ask if they were getting close. He had asked once and Techno had glanced at him over his shoulder then gave a snort, clearly amused.

Dream didn’t ask again.

The air was warmer and the trees were thinner when Techno stopped. He knelt down and Dream slid off him without a word. They were close and he knew it. He held up a hand, palm facing Techno, then gestured at himself and then ahead, towards the edge of the forest. Techno slowly nodded his head though Dream could tell by the wrinkles on his forehead he wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea. Dream gave him a soft pat, took his bag off his belt (the wild fear that the stone would be one time use wouldn’t let go of him), placed it and the spear on the ground, and began creeping as quietly as possible to the border.

At some point, Dream couldn’t really pinpoint when, there was a sensation like walking into a spider web. It got thicker and thicker until panic welled up inside Dream. Backing up a little, he took a few deep breaths to calm himself and focused on what he saw ahead. The wall of the castle was just barely visible through the trees. He couldn’t see the service gate and had to assume that he was too far one way or the other. A guard tower was also visible and Dream closed his eyes for a moment, trying to visualize the layout. The castle sat at the edge of the city, the castle wall becoming the city wall at some point. The service gate had to be to the right. He moved in as straight of a line as possible, eyes watching for any sign of guards. He saw two walking along the ramparts and held his breath, held completely still, until the passed. Part of him had expected more guards and something pricked at the back of his mind but he ignored it.

It didn’t take long until the service gate was visible. There were two guards beside it but both were sitting over turned crates, playing cards in their hands and on their knees. Dream frowned. He wondered how used to the forest the people here were, if enough time had passed that perhaps they didn’t even fully believe the stories. Carefully, quietly, he moved back and sighed with relief when the sticky, clinging sensation finally abetted fully.

Dream backtracked to where he had left Techno and the boar’s giant shoulders sagged a little when he saw him emerge, getting to his feet.

“The service gate is that way, about, like, fifty or sixty feet,” he said. “There’s two guards but they’re not paying attention. Two guards that I saw up on the wall. The gate is big enough for you to fit through but I don’t see a way to open it from the outside.”

Techno shook his head from side to side, tapping his hoof against the ground a few times with a loud huff.

“Yeah—Yeah, you could probably just bust it down.”

This time Techno tapped his hoof once.

“So, you break the door down and then all the guards in the castle will be after us and we’ll still need to get inside and up to the tower.” Techno made a noise and Dream wasn’t fully certain what it meant but he held up a hand. “I’m doing it, Technoblade. We said we would. If—If things get bad, we’ll get out of there.”

Techno nudged him. There was a chance things went south and they didn’t make it out but they would try. They had the element of surprise on their side and Techno’s sheer size and Dream wouldn’t be completely helpless.

“As soon as the sun goes down, we go,” said Dream. He looked at Techno then put his hands on either side of his large head, fingers stroking his rough skin gently. There were a lot of things that Dream wanted to say but didn’t know how to put them in words. He had spoken to Techno only twice but he felt something deep and heavy that he didn’t want to lose. After this, if they got out, he would have all the time in the world to find the words but he needed to say something now, even if it wasn’t perfect. “I’m glad I know you.”

Techno made a soft sound and touched his snout to Dream’s forehead, his version of a kiss, and Dream hoped to anything that might be listening that they would get through this.

Dream sat next to Techno, staring ahead, his fingers twisted in Techno’s mane. They both were watching what little horizon was visible through the trees, waiting for darkness to fall. It was creeping slowly up on them. Techno shifted with a huff and looked over at Dream, lowering his head in a nod. The woods were darker now, dark enough that the sun had to have set. Dream got to his feet, heart pounding and a weird metallic taste in his mouth. He held onto his spear and checked that the stone was still tucked securely into the bag then climbed onto Techno’s back.

Beneath him, Techno’s muscles rippled as he stood. There was no path in this part of the forest and branches and twigs caught on Dream’s hair and the deer hide. He gritted his teeth and ignored it, holding onto Techno’s mane and his spear. He could see the light from the castle walls ahead and just above the wall was the moon, full and bright. His heart was beating so hard and fast that it was painful. Techno weaved through the forest and stopped when the service gate was visible. He looked over his shoulder at Dream, blinking slowly, and Dream nodded in return.

The burst of speed almost threw Dream off but he leaned forward, cheek pressed against Techno’s shoulder. He could hear and feel the trees whipping by, leaving tiny scratches on his arms and legs. The spiderweb feeling was no where to be found, he realized, and a second later the forest was gone and Techno was charging across the open ground, head down. Dream heard shouting and tensed. The sound of bows twanging and arrows whizzing through the air never came.

There was an impact so loud and hard that Dream felt it in his bones. His face smacked against Techno’s back. Blood filled his mouth as he bit his tongue. Dream spat and lifted his head slightly and looked back. The service gate was in ruins, one door hanging off the hinge and the other at least five feet away. The shouting was louder now, a dozen voices rather than two. Techno’s hooves clicked against the stone courtyard and his pace slowed as he rounded towards the castle entrance.

Guards had filtered into the courtyard and Dream could see fear and confusion on their faces and he had a feeling that, like him, they hadn’t believed the stories of the giant boar in the forest. Only a handful had drawn their swords. One man was shouting orders, threats. Technoblade bowled through a group of guards and Dream could hear a sword slash and bones crunch. His grip slipped a little and he squeezed with his legs. Techno’s pace slowed a little more and Dream sat up, letting go with the hand that was holding onto the spear.

The stairs to the castle were ahead and guards were rushing down them. Dream raised the spear, other hand so tight in Techno’s mane the hairs were cutting into his skin. He swung it at the closest guard and the man stumbled back out of the way, losing his footing on the stair. A bubble of adrenaline filled laughter worked its way out of Dream’s throat. The spear might have broke on impact, the point had no slashing capability but the guard didn’t know that. Fear and the unknown was working in their favor.

Techno took the stairs in three huge strides. The double doors to the castle were closed and a group of guards stood in front. Dream felt Techno pick up speed, as much as he could, and leaned forward again, pressing against Techno’s back and holding on with both hands, prepared for the impact. These doors were sturdier than the service gate. They bowed and splintered under Techno’s first blow but held. The guards that had scattered now regrouped as Techno turned for another attempt. Dream sat up, instinct kicking in, and thrust the spear down at one of the guards. The point glanced off his chin then buried in his neck. When Dream pulled it back, blood splashed onto the ground.

The landing was big enough for Techno to turn, giant head swinging back and forth. His tusks caught one guard through the stomach but Techno didn’t pause to shake the body off. He lowered his head and Dream, with his shaking arm, swung the spear out and then grabbed onto Techno, ducking down. Techno crashed into the doors again and this time they broke and he crashed into the castle, pausing only long enough to shake the body from his tusk, sending it sliding across the polished floor in a streak of blood.

Dream squinted. Inside the castle was brighter than anything he had seen in two months and it felt disorientating to be somewhere flooded with light, someplace that he barely remembered the layout of now. Techno’s hooves skidded on the floor as he turned into the main hallway. He paused for a moment, looking both ways, and a sudden memory hit Dream. The tower was over the dungeon.

“Left! Go left,” he shouted.

Techno turned sharply and Dream almost fell off. There was screaming and shouting and castle staff were diving out of the way. The hall was wide enough for Techno to fit but anyone in his path would get trampled. Sitting up, Dream tried to take everything in but he barely had gotten orientated before a guard, almost crushed between Techno and the wall, was grabbing at him. Dream hit him in the face twice with the butt of his spear, clutching it with both hands, and almost was pulled down in the process. The guard’s nails left red marks on Dream’s legs as they fell to the ground and Dream winced, righting himself.

The hallway ended in a ‘L’ shape and Dream held on tighter this time as Techno slid around the corner, crushing a guard against the wall in the process. Ahead, the hallway was clear but ended in an antechamber containing stairwells and doors and it was full of guards and faces Dream recognized. Quackity and Ranboo, standing next to each other. Bile rose in the back of his throat and it felt like his heart had stopped. Techno had come to a halt.

“What the fuck is this shit?” Quackity looked as though he had been in the process of getting undressed when he was summoned. Quackity looked as if he was staring at a ghost. “The fuck—Dream?”

Dream’s head felt light and he dug the fingers of his one hand into Techno’s mane, holding onto the spear with a trembling hand. He almost threw up. His mouth was uncomfortably wet. Techno looked over his shoulder, blood streaked across his tusks and face. The nod Dream gave was barely perceptible but Techno understood. He lowered his head, took a few steps back and began to charge. It almost threw Dream off but he held on and lifted the spear. There were no coherent thoughts in his mind he could pick out, only panic and instinct from a hundred fights in the past. He threw the spear and it hit a guard in the shoulder.

“Go get Wilbur! GO!” Quackity practically shoved Ranboo, who stumbled and then ran off down the nearest hall. “Fucking kill them both!” 

Techno was picking up speed and the one clear thought Dream had was that he would hamper Techno in this fight. He let go and slid off Techno’s back, tucking his elbows in as he hit the floor. It hurt but he had had worse in this castle. By the time he got to his feet, the guards that were still standing after Techno’s charge had begun to surround the giant boar. Dream reached into his bag and pulled out the antler knife. Bare feet smacking against the floor, he ran at the nearest guard’s back and drove the knife into the base of his neck over and over until the guard dropped to the floor.

A roar shook the antechamber and Dream looked up. A sword had been plunged into Techno’s shoulder. His heart jumped into his throat and his own cry of anger echoed Techno’s. Dream rushed towards him, slipping a little on the blood on the floor. He held the knife with both hands and threw his entire weight behind the thrust. It skittered across the armor then found a gap between the breast plate and the cuisses and Dream drove it in as hard as he could. The guard fell back and Dream fell with him. He pulled the knife out and raised it for a final blow.

Someone grabbed him by the hair and dragged him back. The knife was wrenched from his hand and he heard it clatter on the floor.

“I fucking knew I should’ve killed you myself, you piece of shit,” said Quackity, free hand forming a fist and connecting with Dream’s face.

Dream hit the ground hard and before he could do anything, Quackity was on top of him. He felt like he couldn’t move, like he was back in the dungeon. Anger was twisting Quackity’s features and an apology was on the tip of Dream’s tongue, with promises that he would be good if it would just stop. Quackity slapped him. Dream’s arms lay limp at his side, trembling, as Quackity wrapped his hands around his neck and began to squeeze.

“I’m going to fucking kill you and I’m going to cut your head off.” Quackity’s nails dug into his neck and he lifted Dream slightly to slam him back down. “You and that fucking pig. I’m going to put both of your heads on pikes!”

Dream could hear the commotion going on around him; Techno’s hooves on the stone floor and shouting and grunts. He felt for his bag, digging his fingers inside, trying to find the other knife. His vision was going black, legs kicking involuntarily. I’m going to die, he thought and then his fingers closed around one of the fishbones. He pulled it out and shoved it into Quackity’s right eye. Quackity screamed, hands flying up to his face. The moment he let go, Dream twisted beneath him and crawled away. There was a sword one of the guards had dropped on the ground nearby and Dream grabbed it, pointing it towards Quackity. He was light-headed and his breath was ragged and it took him a moment to realize that Techno was behind him. His bloody snout touched Dream lightly on his shoulder before stepping forward.

A look of terror and realization crossed Quackity’s face as Techno approached him. His hands and feet scrambled against the floor, trying to get away but it was useless. Techno lowered his head.

“No! No, no no no! Dream! DREAM! Tell him to fucking stop,” shouted Quackity.

Dream shook his head.

“No. Sir.”

Techno lunged forward, lifting his head. His tusk pierced Quackity through the lower jaw. Dream didn’t look away. Quackity’s body hung there for a moment before Techno dropped him, pulling backwards to dislodge him from his tusk. He turned to Dream. Still holding the sword, Dream got to his feet unsteadily and did his best to throw his arms around Techno for a brief second.

“We need to hurry,” he said, taking a glance around at the bodies on the ground. Some were still moving, groaning, and there were shouts coming from down the halls.

Techno nodded and they turned towards the stairs.

Every few steps, Dream looked behind him. He was surprised Techno fit on the spiraling staircase though part of his girth seemed to hang off over the edge and his hoof slipped once. He was more surprised that no one was charging up the stairs after them. Techno had gone last simply because if he didn’t fit, Dream could still go on ahead and attempt to ring the bell. In one hand, Dream held the sword he had picked up from one of the guards and in the other, he held his antler knife. It had been awhile since he held a real weapon and his arm shook a little. His legs shook a lot as he tried to climb the stairs as quickly as possible.

They passed a landing and voices drifted towards them from behind the door. There was no way to barricade or lock the door and Dream felt worry grow. The adrenaline had worn down and Dream felt fear and shock but he pushed those feelings away. Soft moonlight was filtering down the stairs. The top of the tower was in reach, he could see it. Dream grabbed onto the low, stone railing that lined the stairwell opening and pulled himself up, stepping onto the landing.

Wilbur stood there, flanked by guards, with a smile on this face. He looked disheveled in the way he was dressed – like Quackity, it was clear he had been in the process of getting ready for bed – but he carried himself as if this was routine and expected. He spread his hands, the smile only faltering when Techno stepped fully off the stairs. Dream’s eyes darted around the room and immediately clocked the location of the bell, cast of gold, behind Wilbur and the guards.

“If I had to guess anyone would make it this far, I would have put my money on you, Dream,” said Wilbur, a smile on his face and cold fury in his voice.

Behind Dream, Techno snorted quietly, amused. Wilbur’s eyes flicked to him and his smile wavered.

“You know I can’t let this happen, Techno.”

The sound of footsteps climbing the stairs came from below. They would be outnumbered even worse than they already were the more Wilbur was able to stall them. Dream slid his foot forward, getting ready to dart towards the bell.

If I can just get there, then—

“Don’t you want to know what happened to your friends? To George and Sapnap?” Wilbur asked, suddenly. He pulled a partially squashed roll of parchment from inside his shirt.

Dream froze. He had tried not to think of that, of the reason why no one had ever tried to get him out of that dungeon. If they even knew or had considered him a lost cause. If something had happened to them while he was locked away, being tortured. Wilbur unfurled the parchment and from the short distance, Dream could see George’s signature and his seal on the bottom.

“He abdicated the throne, willingly. He gave it to someone we both agreed on – Eret, you know – and then he left with his new knight, Sapnap.”

A grin had spread across Wilbur’s face, eagerness in his eyes, and Dream knew he wanted that knowledge to hurt. But it didn’t hurt as badly as Dream feared it would. Mostly, he felt relief. They were safe, gone from here, and George no longer had to play the role of king, a role that had been wearing him down. Dream exhaled, the sound almost like a laugh.

“Good,” he said, and then darted towards the bell.

Shouting filled the room and Dream could feel the weight of Techno thudding against the floor as he tried to move with the smaller space. Two of the guards reached towards Dream but he threw himself onto the ground, sliding across the stone floor, the skin of his knees burning. He lost the grip on the sword but held onto the antler knife as he slammed into the wall. He looked over to Techno just in time to see him kick out with his hind legs, sending the guards ascending the stairs tumbling back down, swinging his head to keep the other guards at bay. Blood poured from a wound on his chest, staining the pinkish-beige skin vivid re.

“Stop him!”

Wilbur’s voice was full of anger and panic as Dream scrambled to his feet. A guard struck out at him with his sword. On instinct, because it was the only thing he had, Dream parried with the antler knife. The sword blade caught in the antler and stuck there, surprising both the guard and Dream. The guard slammed his fist into Dream’s face, knocking him back. He felt blood pour from his nose but the bell was an arm and a half’s length away. Letting go of the antler knife, he lunged towards the bell. He felt something slash across his back, the deer hide taking most of the damage, at the same moment his fingers hit the golden surface of the bell.

The chime was unnaturally loud. The bell swung and the moonlight from the windows seemed to reflect off it and brighten, filling the room. Everyone stopped. The movement of the bell had slowed but the sound grew, the light grew. Dream was staring at Techno. His head was down, eyes closed, and the light seemed to reflect off his hide the same way it reflected off the golden bell. The light grew so bright it was almost impossible to keep looking but Dream tried. He could see the silhouette of Techno bend inwards and shift in a strange way. Then it seemed as if the whole large shape of him collapsed, like a tent without its poles.

A moment later, the light faded and the bell was silent.

“Techno?”

Dream’s voice felt small after the loud ringing of the bell. No one else spoke. The guards exchanged frightened looks. From the pile of hide on the floor, something moved. A hand spread across the floor, pushing upwards. The hide fell away. Techno’s shoulders were broad and muscled and bleeding. Pink hair fell across them and his face and Dream realized his skin had a pink hue to it. Techno lifted his head and looked at Dream. His eyes were soft and brown and full of relief, a smile crossing his face. His nose was shaped like a boar’s snout and small tusks still poked out from the corner of his mouth but the man was there.

“Look what’s become of you,” Wilbur said, tone somewhere between disgust and glee.

Techno straightened and looked at Wilbur.

“I could say the same to you.” Techno glanced down at himself, turned his hands over, then ran one over his face. The realization hit him and he winced. “Heh? Y’know, it’s fine. It’s fine.”

Techno got to his feet and the first thought Dream had was that he was taller than he would’ve thought and the next was that he was naked. That also seemed to occur to Techno and he looked at the hide on the ground and then the guards, standing armed and confused. There were more important things to worry about. Dream glanced around, noting where his knife and the stolen sword had fallen. More guards were coming up the stairs.

We’re screwed, thought Dream. We’re not getting out of this.

He caught Techno’s gaze and there was still a soft smile on his face. Dream’s shoulders sagged and he nodded. The guards were at the top of the stairs and Dream tensed, ready to lunge to the nearest weapon, but Wilbur raised his hand and the guards stopped.

“All those years ago, I made a promise to my father I wouldn’t kill you, Techno,” he said, motioning to the nearest guard to hand over his sword. Wilbur tested the weight. “I’m truly saddened to have to break that promise now, I am.”

Wilbur stepped towards Techno and Techno took a step back, glancing behind him. There was nowhere to go, only the short railing and the stairwell. Techno took another step back.

“Alright, alright, at least let me put some clothes on before you murder me,” he said.

It wasn’t really funny. They were likely going to die but Dream almost laughed. He bit it back because it was clear they had all forgotten him. He looked at the weapons on the ground. The sword would rattle when he picked it up and Wilbur was raising his sword. Dream bowled past the guards, head down, and threw his shoulder against Wilbur’s lower back. They both stumbled forward. Wilbur’s thighs hit against the stone railing and toppled over it. There was no scream as he fell. Dream squeezed his eyes shut, prepared to feel himself go over the railing as well. Someone grabbed the back of his deer hide tunic, the collar jerking hard against his neck.

“I’ve got ya,” said Techno.

He did. Dream let out a shaky breath as Techno pulled him back.

From below, there were screams. Techno turned to the guards, hand still on Dream.

“Look, your king’s dead, alright?” There was a hint of grief in Techno’s voice, his fingers tightening on Dream’s shoulder for a moment. “So, what’s going to happen is, one of you is gonna give me your cloak and then we’re -gonna walk out of here.”

The guards didn’t move, faces pale, looking around for someone besides Techno to give them orders. Dream moved from Techno’s side and grabbed the sword he had dropped earlier, keeping an eye on the guards, then paused for a second before deciding to grab his knife as well. There was a notch in the antler but it would do for now. He handed the sword to Techno.

“Thank you, Dream.”

He held the sword with ease despite the visible awkwardness in the way he let his other hand hang down in an attempt to cover himself. 

“Believe it or not, I really don’t want to have to kill anyone else tonight,” said Techno.

Wordlessly, one of the guards took off his cloak and tossed it in Techno’s direction. He grabbed it, still holding the sword aloft, and very awkwardly tied it around his waist. It took two tries and Dream had started to help when Techno gave a soft noise of triumph.

“Welp, I think we’ll be going now.”

Dream held his knife aloft and backed up towards the stairs. He wanted to run out of this castle but his legs felt like jelly and his face was sticky with blood that had run down his neck and chest. Next to him, Techno held out his hand and Dream took it without hesitation.  

“C’mon,” said Techno and started down the stairs.

“Thank fuck,” Dream said and followed him.

At the bottom of the stairs, Wilbur’s body was splayed out like a ragdoll in a pool of blood. Dream stared at it, remembering the duel and Wilbur having him dragged away to the dungeon. If he had the energy, he would’ve laughed. A crowd of people had also gathered at the base of the stairs, guards and castle staff and Tommy and Tubbo. At the sight of Tommy, Dream tensed, his grip on his knife tightening. His palm was sweaty.

“He’s fucking DEAD, Tubbo! He’s—” Tommy finally noticed the hush that had fallen when Dream and Techno stepped off the stairs and turned towards them, face going from shock to rage. “Technoblade? You’re helping Dream?”

Techno snorted.

“Well, it’s more like he’s helpin’ me, if I’m honest,” he said, tone confused. He looked uncomfortable, caught off-guard. “But listen, I’m sorry about Wilbur, but we just want to leave. No one else has to die tonight.”

Tommy’s face was as red as the shirt he wore and he sputtered for a moment, breathing heavily, before he got his words in order.

“How could you? He—Wilbur used to tell me stories about you! You were a hero and his friend! Did you do it? Did you kill Wilbur?”

The question was practically shouted and Dream knew that Techno was going to say yes. The uncomfortable look was still on his face, undercut by confusion and something that looked like guilt. Techno opened his mouth but Dream spoke first.

“No, I—I killed him. I killed him because he—he was going to kill Techno! And we just wanted to leave!”

The hatred on Tommy’s face when he looked at Dream was intense, visceral.

“You killed him? You—” Tommy pointed a finger at Dream, chest heaving. “You fucking killed him? You’re—You’re a monster, Dream.”

It wasn’t the first time he had been called that. It had stung back then, on the battlefield, but this time Dream laughed, tired and unsurprised and angry.

“Me? I’m the monster? Wilbur had me tortured! For months! And I’m—And I’m the bad guy?”

Dream didn’t expect an answer. He didn’t get one. Tommy’s features were still twisted in anger, he was still breathing hard. Everyone gathered was either staring awkwardly at the floor, trying to avoid looking at the bodies strewn about, or looking around for someone, anyone, to tell them what to do. With another deep, shaky breath, Tommy finally spoke.

“You ruined everything, Dream! You could’ve just let us be!”

Dream wanted to scream, to shake him, and ask how when Bramglen had been creeping into their home, trying to tax the people they had promised peace to. It was useless. In some twisted way, they wanted the same thing. Dream thought about the cursed forest and the months he had spent there and the odd peace he had found. Techno’s hand was still wrapped around his and he squeezed Dream’s gently.

“So could you, Tommy! We just—I just wanted it go back like it was, when everything was—When it was peaceful,” he said, stuttering over the words. It wasn’t what he wanted to say but it was good enough.

Tommy shook his head.

“That can’t change things now.”

Dream wanted to laugh again. It couldn’t change things. He was missing fingers. His body was covered in scars. Wilbur and Quackity were lying on the floor, dead. Nothing could change that. They couldn’t go back and Dream didn’t want to go back anymore.

“No,” he agreed.

The antechamber was still quiet, murmurs and Tommy’s breathing the only sounds. Techno shifted, his hooves clicking against the floor, and lowered the sword just a little.

“Welp, we’re leavin’, alright?”

Techno nudged Dream a little and Dream followed his lead, moving towards the hall they had come down. A few of the guards stood their ground but some, confused, began to part for them. Tommy stepped forward.

“You killed Wilbur! You can’t just get away with it!”

Leaning down, Techno opened his mouth to whisper something to Dream and Dream knew, without a doubt, that he was going to tell Dream to run while he held them off. The months spent in silence meant Dream had learned Techno well. Dream shook his head and mouthed the word ‘no’. Techno smiled then straightened.

“Listen, Tommy, right? You could probably stop us. You’ve got the numbers. I promise, though, if you don’t let us walk out now, people are gonna die,” he said, the smile on his face still there but with a cold edge to it.

The bodies on the floor emphasized his point, still and bloody and broken. A wave of nervousness went through the crowd gather. Even Tommy seemed to be unsure now. He looked towards Tubbo.

“Tubbo?”

Tubbo shook his head.

“Does it matter anymore?” he asked, gesturing helplessly with his hands. “Let it go, man. It’s not worth it. It’s not worth dying.”

Dream held his breath. He had thought he would die a hundred times over in the past year and then been surprised when he lived. If he died now, at least it would be of his own choosing. That was fine with him. Techno held the sword like it was an extension of himself, ready for the fight. No one else looked ready. Tommy was still staring at Tubbo, the betrayal clear on his face.

“I can’t believe this…” He turned back to Dream and Techno. “Just fucking go! Go and if I ever see you again…”

It was an empty threat that Tommy didn’t even care to finish. They all knew that Dream and Techno would never come back, that if they did, it wouldn’t be lightly. Dream was suddenly more tired than he had ever been and without a word, began walking towards the hallway. The guards moved out of the way. The hall was marked with the destruction of their arrival; the floor was streaked with blood and bits of broken ceramic from the busts that used to line it and pieces of armor that had gotten dragged along with Techno’s charge. Dream stepped over a body that had been almost flattened and heard Techno wince softly next to him.

“Almost there,” said Dream.

The castle exit was ahead, doors broken and hanging open, and no one tried to stop them.

Dream felt the cool night air on his face and took a deep breath, savoring it for a brief moment. The full moon still hung in the sky, right above them, and sky was full of stars. It had been so long since Dream had seen stars. He let out a shaky, ragged breath. There was still shouting coming from the castle but it was distant. Techno let go of Dream’s hand and touched his back.

“You alright, Dream?” he asked.

He wasn’t but he would be and Dream nodded.

“Y-yeah, but I want to get the fuck out of here.”

Techno grinned.

“Oh, same. Now, where the heck is the stable?” When he glanced at Dream and saw the questioning look on his face, Techno clarified. “We’re gonna steal a horse.”

It made sense but the absurdity of the statement, after everything, made Dream give a bark of laughter. He looked around the courtyard then pointed towards the building with the straw roof that was built against the outer wall.

“There,” he said, starting across the courtyard. “They—They should have a courier horse ready, in case. I think.”

No guards stood outside and Dream had to imagine they had rushed to the castle when the alarm was raised. Techno grabbed the large sliding door and pulled. It rattled opened and the smell of hay and manure wafted out. Dream made a face and started to step inside but stopped. He was still barefoot and didn’t fell like stepping in horseshit. Techno brushed past him, looking in the first stall that had a stool set in front of it and a pack of supplies hanging on the side. Grabbing the pack, Techno handed it to Dream, who glanced inside: a canteen, hardtack and jerky, and other basics. It was more than they had had to work with in a long time. Dream closed the flap.

“Looks like you were right, Dream.” He opened the stall door, taking the reins of the horse inside. It lazily followed him out, sniffing at the ground. “They’ve got our ride ready to go.”

Dream smiled. It hadn’t been much of a reach to think they would have a horse ready – there was always the chance that urgent news would have to be delivered at any moment – but he felt a sense of pride that he had been right. He slung the pack over his shoulder and followed Techno out into the courtyard. They both kept looking towards the castle, wondering if Tommy would change his mind and send guards after them. Techno grabbed onto the pommel and lifted himself easily into the saddle. The stirrups were awkwardly short for his long legs but it would work. He reached a hand out for Dream and Dream grabbed it, letting Techno hoist him up.

Swinging his leg over the rump of the horse, Dream settled behind the saddle and wrapped his arms around Techno’s waist. The horse shook its head, one hoof tapping against the ground. It knew what riders meant. Techno pulled the reins, turning the horse towards the direction of the service gate and nudged the horse’s side with his knees. It started at a slow walk, as if it was still waking up, but another nudge sent it into a trot. The sound of hooves on stone was loud and comforting. They passed the wreckage of the service gate and then through it.

Techno pulled back on the reins a little and the horse slowed.

“Where are we goin’?” he asked.

Dream hadn’t thought about the answer to that question, he hadn’t even thought about the question. The fact they had gotten out of there wasn’t something he had planned for, really. He pressed his palms against Techno’s stomach.

“I—I don’t know. I don’t care,” he said, breathing out and leaning against Techno. “Anywhere.”

Letting go of the reins for a moment, Techno put a hand over Dream’s.

“You’ve got it, Dream.”

Techno pressed his knees into the horse’s side and it broke into a canter and the castle fell away into the distance behind them, the moon light turning the grass silver as they rode through it.

The moon had moved across the sky and there was an edge of yellow-orange light at the horizon. The land had given way from forest to plains to sparse forest again. Nothing looked familiar to Dream; they were traveling west, away from both Bramglen and Iridal and Dream was surprised he didn’t feel the urge to tell Techno to angle northwards. He had spent months wanting to go back but now he didn’t care where he was going. He turned his head against Techno’s back, ear pressed close, and listened to his heart beating. It was steady and deep.

The horse slowed to a stop as Techno relaxed the reins. It dipped its head down, sniffing at the grass. Dream lifted his head and looked around. They were in a small meadow lined with trees that had bright green leaves. Tall purple flowers were mixed within the grass.

“I dunno about you but my behind could use a bit of a break,” said Techno through a yawn.

Dream gave a chuckle, trying to stifle his own yawn. His ass was sore and his legs didn’t feel much better.

“Yeah. Yeah, I could stop for a bit,” he agreed, looking down. The ground seemed softer, or softer than what he was used to, and Dream swung his leg around and slid off, knowing that Techno couldn’t dismount with him still on.

A moment later, Techno slid off. He nodded in the direction of a large tree, its wide branches spread out and hanging low to the ground.

“That looks pretty good, doesn’t it?”

It did.

Techno lead the horse over and looped the reins around one of the branches while Dream found a good spot at the base of the tree. He dropped the stolen pack on the ground and carefully sat with a wince next to it. Techno didn’t sit immediately, standing with the leaves brushing against his head, looking up at the sky. It was turning pink and orange as the sun rose and to the west, the sky was still dark and dotted with stars.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a sunrise,” said Techno after a moment. He turned and sat down next to Dream, stretching his legs out. “I bet it’s the same for you, huh?”

Dream tried to think of the last time he watched the sun rise and couldn’t. It must’ve been the day of the duel but he didn’t remember much of that day, not anymore. The dungeon had made everything before blurry.

“Yeah, it’s been awhile,” he said.

There was a stretch of silence as the morning broke across the meadow. Techno drew in a breath, slowly rubbing a hand over his face.

“Y’know, I didn’t used to look like this.” 

The murals in the castle foyer had depicted Technoblade as fully human, a pink-haired figure with pale skin and certainly no tail and no triangle shaped ears on top of his head. It had to be shocking for Techno himself but Dream had only known him as the giant boar that first emerged from the forest. Simply being able to see Techno’s face and hear him speak was enough for Dream. He shrugged.

“I kind of—I kind of figured,” he said with a small smile. “I think it suits you.”

Techno snorted, his own smile wide.

“Are you sayin’ that me being a pig is fittin’? Woooow, Dream…”

A giddy sort of laugh bubbled up in Dream’s chest, his cheeks pink, and he elbowed Techno in the side.

“That’s not what—That’s not how I meant it! God, what is wrong with you,” he said, still laughing. It felt good to laugh and he didn’t want to stop.

Techno was watching him and Dream didn’t miss the look of affection in his brown eyes. It made his blush deepen. Techno’s fingers found his and wrapped around his hand.

“Listen, we’ve got plenty of time to go over all that later,” said Techno. He rubbed his thumb over Dream’s knuckles. “It’ll take a bit of time to get used to the nose but I gotta admit, it’s nice havin’ hands again.”

It is pretty nice, Dream thought. He squeezed Techno’s hand, feeling the callouses on his palms. He had known Techno’s hide as a boar well after all that time in the forest.

“Now that you have thumbs, you don’t need me anymore,” he said, tilting his head to look at Techno with one eyebrow quirked upwards.

With a huff, Techno leaned into Dream’s side.

“True, true, but I’m actually kinda fond of you so I might as well keep you around.” Techno dipped his head down, breath warm on Dream’s face. “I mean, if you’re alright with that.”

Dream didn’t have to think about it. There was no telling what would happen next, where they would end up, but he liked the thought of figuring that out with Techno. After everything that had happened, that they had been through, he knew it would be okay. It was the first time he had believed that in a very long time. Dream smiled.

“I guess that’s alright,” he said.

“Good,” said Techno.

The word sounded relieved, as if he thought Dream might have given a different answer, his shoulders sagging slightly. He started to move back, to say something else, but Dream closed the gap and kissed him, short and soft the way he had that first time in the forest. Techno’s eyes widened for a brief second and then he lifted his free hand, tangled his fingers into Dream’s hair, and kissed him back, deep and long. When he stopped, he pressed his forehead to Dream’s.

“Not gonna lie, I’ve been wantin’ to do that for awhile.”

Dream let himself fall against Techno and turned look at the sun, the sky pink and pale blue, and the golden light that was coloring the meadow and the dots of flowers, in purples and white and yellows. All they had was a pack with basic supplies and a horse. Neither of them even had proper clothing. But Dream felt oddly at peace.

“Well, you can do it whenever you want now,” he said.

Techno wrapped his arms around Dream, resting his chin on the top of his head, stubble catching in Dream’s messy hair.

“I’ll be takin’ you up on that.” Techno leaned back against the tree, his fingers running over Dream’s arms, carefully tracing the scars that marked his skin. “So, we’re still going anywhere?”

“Yeah. If—If it’s us together, it doesn’t matter where we go.”

There would be stories told, years and years and years later, about the knight and the boar. How the knight was sent into the cursed forest to be devoured by the boar but survived against all odds and returned one night, looking half-wild, riding on the boar that was supposed to be his doom. How they stormed the castle, fought their way to tower, and broke the curse and killed the king.

Some stories would paint them as villains, others as heroes righting an injustice done to them.

But all of the stories ended there, the two riding away into the night.

None of the stories told of after the escape from the castle, how the two traveled for days, stealing clothing and scavenging food. A family would pass down a small stone that glows blue and tell of how they traded two silver pieces for it and how it always brought good luck but the meaning of the stone  and who had offered it in trade had been lost at some point. There would be no story of a small cabin built in a pine forest or the peaceful mornings spent watching the sunrise or long nights spent in front of the fireplace, a notched antler on the mantle and an old deer hide as rug in front.

They were fine with that.