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ufuckingpastry · 3 years

Text

These Bonds We Keep

AO3 Link (this fic is very long btw)

This fic is based on the characters in the DreamSMP, not the content creators. Any views expressed in this fic are not a reflection of the content creators in any shape or form.

Relationships: Dream/Technoblade - Kismesistude/Rival Shipping Technoblade/Philza - Moirallegiance/Platonic Relationship

This is a continuation of Where Gods and Monsters Meet, but it not necessary to read that to understand this fic.

@meepishme

CW: graphic depictions of violence, hallucinations, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt (based on game mechanics), self harm

Summary: I have all the time in the world to wait for you, Blood God. And, one way or another, you will become mine.

Technoblade could hear the triumph in the egg's voice. Like the slow, smug flicking tail, the egg felt victory against its opponent. Because he was trapped with it and he had nowhere to run. And yet… Technoblade smiled despite it all. And he could feel the egg's shock, faint and unnatural as it was. Because he knew this game. He knew what it took to be patient in the face of an unwavering enemy and still come out the victor. He knew what it would take. So, he settled in, grinning at the ghost of red before him, and breathed out. The red parted and he took solace in that, at least.

"If the mind is willing, the flesh could go on and on without many things," he recited quietly. "You underestimate me. And that will be your downfall."

The whooshing of the portal faded as Technoblade descended the steps towards the community house. Someone had recently built it back up, even nicer than it was before. But the holes in the dirt still belied what had turned it to rubble. He recalled Ranboo telling him and Phil, his hands twisting and tapping in uncomfortable motions, that he blew it up. Later, after Dream had been locked up, Phil mentioned that Dream had done it as they sat by the fire. They discussed why Ranboo might believe he had blown it up instead. That conversation left an uncomfortable sting of acid in Technoblade’s stomach. That kid didn’t deserve any problems thrown his way. He thought about when Ranboo gifted him a new netherite axe. “Rent” they called it. Payment for living on his property. But in recent weeks, Technoblade found that the kid was growing on him. They explored maps of distant places, arguing over golden apples. The last time they had gone into a woodland mansion, Technoblade found him backed up in a corner. Technoblade hadn’t remembered much after that, but he remembered Ranboo afraid, but steeling himself against an unwinnable fight. He jumped in alongside him and they cut down their foes together. As Technoblade passed through the community house and out the other side, he wondered if Ranboo was fixing the house up out of misplaced guilt. He pressed his lips together and made a note to talk to Ranboo about it soon. The kid was brave, but he was also real jumpy. Technoblade dutifully described his visit to Dream when he returned home a week ago. Ranboo seemed relieved that it was the same as Tommy's retelling, but it felt as though he was still hiding something from them. That might be Technoblade reading too much into it, but still… Caution was the thing that kept them safe. Phil always reminded them of that, especially when Technoblade got a little too bloodthirsty that he forgot himself. He made a note to remind Phil to be there when they talked with Ranboo. Phil was much better at reading social situations than he was.

Technoblade hiked the axe up on his shoulder as he walked, his thoughts straying from Ranboo as he scanned the area. He frowned, eyeing the vines. They grew more every time he came through. He cut away some of the vines that were in his way, though he never lingered around them too long. It was hard to tell in the fresh air like this, but something smelled off about them. The voices in his head seemed to agree. He tossed away the vine blocks at the voices’ request. As he walked further, he saw Ranboo delightedly hugging a grass block. Technoblade’s shoulders relaxed at the sight of a genuinely happy Ranboo. He stepped up close to the kid and waved.

“Techno!” Ranboo greeted. The nickname made him smile. He usually only let Phil or Dream call him that, but he wasn’t about to cut Ranboo short. If it made him happy to call him that, then who was Technoblade to stop him?

“Hey, Ranboo. What are you up to?” They caught up for a bit, walking around a few steps as Ranboo placed grass and picked more up. He found it nice to talk to him and he relaxed bit by bit. After a while, as the sun reached and passed its highest point, Ranboo made noises about having to go soon. Technoblade rested a hand on his shoulder. “Hold up. Phil’s making some stew tonight. He always makes too much, if you want to stop by. We’d be glad to have you.”

“Oh, uh, yeah! Sounds good!” Ranboo smiled and Technoblade felt his chest warm at the sight. He waved Ranboo off. He turned around and started for the Prime Path, but paused. Bad was standing on some of the vines, the ones he had chopped up, watching them. The vines glowed gently and grew just under Bad’s feet, completing the chain again. Technoblade’s smile faded as his gaze flicked back up to Bad. His hood was white, which… Wasn’t it red? Technoblade adjusted the axe on his shoulder. Bad started walking towards him. The voices in his head rose to a steady thrum, conflicting as always, but this time it set him on edge. He rolled his shoulders as he watched Bad’s approach.

“Good afternoon, Technoblade,” Bad greeted warmly. Technoblade raised a few fingers in response, but remained otherwise silent. His gaze did catch on movement in the distance behind Bad. Antfrost was also approaching now, making a beeline for their small group. Technoblade’s silent response didn’t seem to deter Bad. “Lovely day out, isn’t it?”

“There something you want, Bad?” Technoblade asked. He didn’t really want to be sociable more than he had to at any given point. He had already spent long enough here and he had things he wanted to finish before he went back home for dinner. But Bad seemed like he genuinely wanted something from him. At his question, Bad’s face brightened.

“Well, yes, actually. What do you know about the egg, Technoblade?”

---

The first thing Technoblade noticed when they entered the cave was the smell. The cave smelled of blood. Putrid, poisoned, diseased. It was a sickness that made his stomach roil. He swallowed bile as he looked upon the egg, stepping carefully over pits of lava and magma as he followed Bad. The voices, usually a cacophony of conflicting desires, now grew in a chorus of one word: RUN. He eyed the egg, used to ignoring the voices. The vines were annoying, but to be here, in the presence of the thing causing their growth, he genuinely felt unsettled. He glanced at Bad, at Antfrost. Their faces, drawn toward the egg, were ones of devotion.

“So,” he started, breaking the silence. “I take it this is the egg?”

“Yes!” Bad clapped his hands together and grinned brightly at Technoblade. “It offers people what they desire, be it power or strength. Anything.”

“Power?” Technoblade asked with a considering tilt of his head. “The power to lead nations? Like a government?”

“No, no, no, not like that. We,” Bad gestured to himself and Antfrost. “We don’t want more governments. All they’ve done is cause war and destruction. The egg doesn’t want governments.”

“You literally have a bunch of signs that say ‘Join the Eggpire’,” Technoblade pointed out. Bad’s expression tightened, as if frustrated. But it vanished and he smiled brightly again. He dismissed Technoblade's point with a wave of his hand.

“That’s just some catchy phrasing. The egg doesn’t want governments.”

“Uh-huh. Then what does it want?”

“Well,” Bad and Antfrost glanced at each other, their smiles growing. They turned back to him simultaneously “Why don’t you listen?”

“Listen?”

“Yes! The egg speaks to all those who will hear it. Listen so that you might hear what it wants.”

Technoblade pressed his lips together, unconvinced. But Bad looked so excited by this idea, so on board with the literal everything going on, that Technoblade decided to humor him at least. He sighed and closed his eyes, focusing on the voices. He brushed past their yelling, down deeper, down to voices he couldn’t hear as well. And, he realized, there was one. It was a small voice, quiet, barely above a whisper. But now given attention, it grew to something recognizable.

Blade. I know you for what you are. God of Blood, God of Vengeance, God that has been Betrayed and Used. Know that I can grant you the power you seek, the power to keep you, make you whole again.

Technoblade stilled, opening his eyes. His gaze focused on the pulsing red of the egg, trying to ground himself even before he realized what was happening. He blinked, red winding its way across his vision. It coiled into images that shifted into shape before him. He saw L’Manberg, burned and blasted, the hole ever expanding. He saw the vines taking root, filling the pit like blood spilled. Overflowing, he saw it, as the voice whispered ever on, slowly overtaking the other voices.

Blood for the Blood God. Nourish me of their flesh and I will return their blood to you tenfold. Blood for the Blood God!

He saw bodies strewn about before him. Thousands, millions, tens. Ever changing, ever flowing, ever beating with his heart. Each one torn apart. Ribcages steaming in the sun, skulls shattered with gray matter strewn across the way, bodies broken, twisted, ruined. Bleeding without a care, without purpose. He saw himself step through them, inside and outside his form all at once. The blood drenched his hands, his clothes, his crown, dripping in vines of freshly spilled blood. He saw himself stop, drop down, and nudge a head up to the sun. Tommy’s eyes, blank, cold, and dead stared past him, horror and betrayal plain in his last moments. As he looked up, he saw them. He saw them all. Their names passing by, their faces turning toward him, their eyes on him as they bled out. Bled out for him. Niki, Punz, Ranboo, Tommy, Tubbo, Jack, Puffy, Sam… He lifted his gaze and saw two bodies strung out for him, their bodies opened and spilling out blood and entrails, and he saw their faces plain as day. Horror, pure terror flooded his system at the sight of these bodies. These bodies, the bodies of those he most cared for, of those he would stop at nothing to fix the suffering they experienced, or aid what he could not fix. Those he felt tied to and those he would be tied to the end of days. Phil's body, wings broken and ruined. Dream's body, gutted and empty. He could hear the egg singing worship at the scene, calling it sacrament… The implication that he… that he had done this…

Technoblade stumbled back from the egg, eyes wild and teeth bared. His breaths came in pants, his axe in his hand. He saw movement next to him. He lurched towards it, aiming to strike, aiming to maim, to kill!

Bleed them! Bleed them for me!

Technoblade stumbled at the voice, the red in his vision vanishing. Bad and Antfrost stared at him, their own weapons at the ready, their eyes wide. Technoblade realized himself and he forced his breath to slow. Once he felt calm, calmer, he hooked his axe on his back once more. He shook his head in an attempt to rid the egg’s voice from his head. He had to get out. He had to leave, leave, leave, RUN! Technoblade took a step back from them, from the egg. His ears twitched back, flat against his head to block out the voice even though he knew it would do nothing. He took another step back, nearly stumbling over the magma block behind him.

“No, nope. No, not today. Not this. Nope.” He looked up at the egg, its disease burning his lungs, and turned on his heel. He heard Bad call out and he heard him running after him, words stumbling on his tongue to slow down. Halfway across the room, the exit in sight, Bad grabbed his cloak. Technoblade turned so fast Bad flinched back, releasing the cloak to reach for a weapon. Technoblade’s eyes burned with rage and it was with a snarl he silenced both the egg and Bad’s protests. “I will destroy this place,” he growled, his voice trembling in his rage. “I will. Destroy this place. I will destroy the egg. I will fill this room with TNT and I will burn this place to ash! To bedrock! What I did to L’Manberg, I will do to this place a thousand times over!” Technoblade straightened and looked down upon them, a wrathful god barely held in check. “And I would suggest you stand aside before I burn you too.”

Bad pressed his lips together, thinking fast. Technoblade could almost hear the gears turning in his head. He held his hands out in a staying gesture, a rare sign of surrender. Technoblade did not trust him, nor the words that would soon spill from his mouth.

“I feel like there are some misunderstandings here. How about this? We go and talk. Away from the egg. Above ground. Before we do anything too rash, let’s talk.” Technoblade’s eyes narrowed. He knew a bad idea when he saw one. But his position would not change. And if Bad wanted to try to talk, to placate him… He would let him try, if only to see him tremble beneath his failure. Technoblade unhooked his axe and gestured for him to lead the way.

Bad led them above ground, led them to a suspiciously egg-shaped building. Technoblade stopped outside the building, eyeing the blood vines growing over the structure. He tilted his head, listening. The egg’s voice still haunted him, but it grew faint. He assumed it wouldn’t leave completely until he went back home.

He hoped.

“Before we go in,” Bad started, hands in front of him. “I would like to talk without the threat of weapons and armor.”

“No.”

“Here, as a show of good faith.” Bad started to remove his armor, then glanced at Antfrost and gestured sharply with his head. Antfrost followed suit, though his limbs seemed to shake more in front of the still very armed Technoblade. Bad put his items into the chest at the door and gestured for Technoblade to do the same.

“You must think I’m some kind of idiot. I threatened you with decimation and you say you simply want to talk. And now you’re asking me to remove my gear in the name of good faith?” Technoblade snarled at him. Bad smiled, bright eyes and a challenge in his voice.

“Are you cowing away from us, Technoblade? We are unarmed and you still consider us to be a threat? A snake without venom is no more a threat than a gust of wind.”

“Venom is ultimately a defense. You are a virus, an attacker. A disease that must be burned clean.”

“Take off your armor, Technoblade. And let us talk.”

Technoblade considered him. He didn’t know Bad well, had never taken the time to get to know him. With this egg business, he didn’t want to take the time. He adjusted the axe over his shoulder, making decisions and plans. He should have messaged Phil. He’ll be late for dinner.

“Let me search you, and I might consider leaving behind my weapons.” Technoblade said, letting his axe drop off his shoulder. Bad’s expression was tight, the fingers stilled. Then he opened them and lifted his arms.

“Alright. I can promise you I have no tricks up my sleeve.”

Technoblade grunted, not convinced, and searched him. He found nothing on Bad: nothing to harm, nothing to heal, nothing to poison. Just… nothing. Technoblade stepped back and gestured Antfrost over so he could search him as well. Antfrost’s inventory was much the same, though…

“Bruh,” Technoblade said, holding up the maid outfit. Bad had his head in his hands, muttering quietly to himself as Antfrost bounced on his heels nervously. “You know what… I don’t want to know.” He gave Antfrost the maid outfit back, feeling… settled was the wrong word. But it seemed Bad had not lied. Technoblade still did not trust him, but perhaps… He had thorns on his armor and they would not be fast enough to equip in time if they decided to attack him. He preferred an axe or a sword in his hands, but he had enough experience in hand-to-hand combat that he didn’t think the lack of one would be a problem.

“Alright. No weapons.” He removed his weapons, his tools too, in a show of “good faith”. When Antfrost went to pick them up, he growled a warning. Antfrost jumped back quickly, his fear scent keeping Techno from relaxing all the way. “So,” he said, turning to Bad. “You wanted to talk?”

“Yes, inside.” Bad lead them into the building and Technoblade took a second just inside the door to scan his surroundings. There wasn’t much to the building. The most notable features were a chest and an obsidian table. It briefly reminded him of the table Phil and him found in the stronghold. His was better than this obsidian mess. His table was unbreakable. Technoblade took a spot closest to the door, not sitting, his muscles tense to run back for his weapons at the first sign of trouble. Antfrost waited at the side, watching. For the first time, Technoblade noticed his eyes were red. Strange. Bad was gesturing again and Technoblade's gaze snapped sharply at the movement. Unperturbed, Bad continued with his talk.

"All the things that have happened to us has been because of governments and the people who blindly follow them, looking for a leader. What we offer, what the egg offers is stable ground in a chaotic world. It offers power to those who seek it and guides them in ways if they are struggling to find it. The egg does not want government. It wants land that will nourish it and, in return, it will nourish those who protect it. Technoblade, for every battle you have fought here, for every person who has recruited you, they have seen you not as a person, but as ‘The Blade’. They have seen you as a weapon to be used and abandoned once your purpose is fulfilled. But we are not them. We see you as a person, Technoblade. We see what you can become when you are treated as one.

“What we want, what the egg wants, is for you to be its defender. The egg has many enemies. Enemies who would strike it down without further thought. You are here, even though you threatened to become one of those enemies. You are here of your own accord and that is all we are asking for.”

Technoblade listened to Bad speak and he found… If Bad had started with this, if he had waited to show him the egg, then his decision might have been different. Bad’s words were moving and they pulled at him. They were true. Very few people here had treated him as a person. And those who did, he held onto tight and fast, unable to allow them to stray too far lest they disappear into the wind like ghosts. If Bad had started with this…

But he hadn’t. And Technoblade’s decision was not going to change.

He tilted his head and lifted his lip up in a snarl. “What sort of fool do you think I am, Bad? The egg simply wants me to be its defender? Bullshit. Do you even know what the egg promised me?” Technoblade asked. Bad’s expression didn’t change, though there was a brightness in his eyes that Technoblade did not like. He stepped up onto the table, forcing Bad to look up at him. “You talk about the loyalty people have shown me and how little it mattered to them. And yet, you think the egg shows unfailing loyalty to you? For your blood, for your flesh, it promised me power. It switches sides for whoever it decides will serve it best.” He stopped in the center of the table, growling now. “Even if no one else does in this miserable place, I will stand by my word. I will destroy that thing. I will blow that room up, deeper than the pit that was L’Manberg, wider than the stars reach across the sky! And I will burn you too if you stand in my way.”

Bad’s expression twitched, but it was still that unreadable smile. Technoblade could taste Antfrost’s fear and feel his quivering breath. He was afraid, but Bad…

“I’m sorry to hear that, Technoblade. And I’m sorry you feel that way.” As Bad spoke, he shifted to the side. Everything in Technoblade went cold as the home Phil waited in for him. There was a button behind his back, one hidden throughout their whole conversation. “But I can’t let you do that.”

Bad slammed his fist back on the button. Technoblade lurched forward, but it was a second too late. The ground fell away beneath his feet and he threw out a hand. Hooved hands caught on the cracks in the obsidian table, his body dangling above a pit. The egg’s voice surged up to meet him at the same time Bad’s foot stomped on his fingers. Technoblade cried out as pain shattered down his arm. He glared up at Bad from his place beneath him.

“I think you need to spend some more time with the egg, Technoblade. At least, until you start to see things our way.”

“I’LL REND YOUR FLESH FROM BONE, BAD!”

“Oh, shut up, why don’t you?” Bad smashed Technoblade’s fingers beneath his foot, then kicked him away. Technoblade fell into the pit, landing with a sickening CRACK! Technoblade’s vision went black for a moment as he dropped to the floor. He was not dead, but almost. Fuck. He felt over his leg, tearing off armor to get at the bone sticking out of his leg. Fuck. Technoblade tore a piece of cloth from his shirt, stuffed it between his teeth, and worked on snapping the bone back in place. This was not the first time and he knew how to do it so it wouldn’t heal wrong. The pain was still the same, almost enough to make him black out. At first, he thought he did, with how dark the pit went. A look up revealed that they had close the table up again. He could just barely hear Bad and Antfrost’s voices talking together. He was too far down and…

Technoblade took stock of his surroundings, horror drilling him deep to his bones. He was above the egg. Directly. Above. Trapped in obsidian and no tools to save him. And the voice, that damned voice, was whispering again. Welcoming him back home. It embraced him like an old friend. When he threw himself back from it, only the cold obsidian caught him. Its voice crept like fingers over the back of his neck, gentle caresses along his ears, playing with him, toying with him. Like a cat who's cornered a mouse and batting it along because it thinks it's funny. He snarled at it, bared his tusks and teeth. If he was a mouse, the least he could do was to blind that son of a bitch. And the voice

The voice parted. It parted like soil beneath a hoe. But unlike soil, it flowed back into the space he made between them. He could almost see it. See it like red in his vision, blood in the water, like Phil's tea as it steeped. Idly mixing with the air around him, only growing violent when agitated. Technoblade realized with dawning horror that the egg was no longer digging its claws into him, unrelenting in its attack lest he escape and flee. No… now he had no escape, nowhere to turn and run. He was trapped. And the egg knew. It knew and it had changed behavior.

I have all the time in the world to wait for you, Blood God. And, one way or another, you will become mine.

He could hear the triumph in its voice. Like the slow, smug flicking tail, the egg felt victory against its opponent. Because he was trapped with it and he had nowhere to run. And yet… Technoblade smiled despite it all. Despite the lingering pain from his fall, despite the scent of blood filling his nose, despite the darkness and the heat, he smiled. And he could feel the egg's shock, faint and unnatural as it was. Because he knew this game. He knew what it took to be patient in the face of an unwavering enemy and still come out the victor. He knew what it would take. So, he settled in, grinning at the ghost of red before him, and breathed out. The red parted and he took solace in that, at least.

"If the mind is willing, the flesh could go on and on without many things," he recited quietly. "You underestimate me. And that will be your downfall."

And so, the war with the egg began. It was a mental war, a test of wills, and it was one of the most grueling wars he had faced. The egg sometimes grew malicious, striking at the heart of him. He witnessed visions of his friends suffering, the people he knew hurting in ways almost unimaginable. Sometimes the egg offered him the power to fix this suffering and sometimes it offered the power to cause it instead. Sometimes, he would wake bathed in blood and gore, knowing intimately who it had come from. Sometimes, he would wake wrapped in vines, never knowing where he ended and the egg began. And sometimes, he would wake and he would see Phil, reaching for him. And, in the weak times, he would reach out and Phil would fade like smoke around his fingertips.

Sometimes, the egg would leave him alone. He knew it was gathering strength. He knew it was feeding from the ground, from the creatures that got too close. He didn’t know when it happened, but one day he felt immense pain and he lashed out. His fingers caught on the obsidian and he realized, in panting breaths, that he could feel when someone cut the vines. He hugged himself, breath shaking, and the voice returned.

It hurts, doesn’t it? When they hurt us, we can feel it. When they feed us, we no longer hunger. We can survive upon the ground, but we hunger, don’t we? Blood God of mine, we hunger.

“I am not yours,” Technoblade hissed. “I will never be yours.” The voice faded into laughter and Technoblade saw nothing but visions of death and blood again.

He could not keep track of time down in the cave. He did not know how long he sat, how long he waited. He knew at one point he woke and his armor was gone. He had nothing to protect himself, besides the cloak that he hugged around himself. His stomach twisted in pain. He ran out of food long ago. Water was scarce too, and the heat felt close to that of the nether. He was so thirsty… He opened his eyes and saw the ghost of blood again. It never had a face and its body wavered like smoke. But this time, it lifted its arm. Technoblade, weary from the fight, didn’t realize his body was following suit.

Drink up, my friend. God of Blood, mine. Drink and be nourished.

Technoblade’s mouth watered and he bit down. Flesh gave way under his teeth and liquid flowed onto his tongue. He lapped it up like a dying man in the desert. He could not taste it, as far gone into his head as he was. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw golden streams dripping down. And he felt, suddenly, something dripping down his skin. His flesh burned, faintly, and he wondered why. Why did he hurt, even as he drank?

He watched idly as the golden liquid splashed down at his feet and onto the egg. The ghost shivered into light, keening in joy. His ears flattened and he flinched back from the deafening crash. There was a feeling of tearing and Technoblade winced. His fog cleared and found he felt pain, intense pain, and he

Technoblade released his arm in horror, staring down at the wound. The wound burned, his golden blood dripping down the length of his arm, down the corners of his mouth, down to the egg where it rejoiced at the offering. He snarled and ripped off his shirt to wrap it around his arm. Slow the bleeding, cover it and protect it from infection. His gazed snapped back up to the red ghost, but it dissipated before he could growl. He hugged himself and slumped down. He could feel himself fading again. The egg was a powerful influence in his head, easily overtaking the other voices. Even those faded into almost nothing now as the egg left him alone. It was strange to not hear them, to not hear their faint buzzing. But what use would they be to him?

He could not run. He could not escape. He would die down here. Die or belong to the egg. He lifted a shaking hand to his cheek and felt over the lines in his flesh. The corruption was already taking root, breaking through his skin. Vines twisted around his heart, around his lungs, until every moment, every breath, was controlled by the egg. His hand stilled and

He considered it. Technoblade considered his death. He had escaped it hundreds of times. Technoblade never dies! But here… maybe. His hand twitched and he glanced down at it, considering. If he died here… he would wake up in his bed. Back home. He would wake up to the light spilling in through his window, to the sounds of Phil and Steve below. Steve's soft growls as he tried to eat whatever breakfast Phil was preparing. Maybe Ranboo would stop by too, dance around the polar bear as he eagerly showed a new map. And they could go together, shove playfully into each other as they searched for new adventures. Phil would stay home, watch the stasis chamber for when they wanted to come back. And he would be down a life, but maybe… if it meant the ghosts he saw were nothing more than ghosts and not proof of his losing battle…

Technoblade tested it, pressed his fingers into the wound on his arm. It would be easy to find a vein to rip--

NO!

Technoblade jerked back, the feeling of hands on his skull, hands on his arms and fingers, stilling him, freezing him in place with the strength of the egg's will. He stared, wide eyed, into the burning pits of the red ghost.

You are MINE and I will not have you escaping!

And Technoblade

Technoblade filed that reaction away, in the depths of his mind where the vines could not reach, for later. The egg didn’t want him to die, to escape. It wanted him near, to finish corrupting him. He was weary from the fight and he was losing. The egg knew this too. It hummed with victory. It burned bright with sickening delight. He could hear it chanting, singing praises that they would wipe clean this world until all that left was blood. Blood for the true blood god. And he knew that it would make him its puppet. He was already bound in its vines. But…

If he could escape…

There was no totem of undying in his hands this time. But if it feared his death… If it feared him escaping through death, then perhaps…

Perhaps, he still had hope left.

The next time he woke, Technoblade heard voices. With how faint they were, he assumed it was simply the familiar buzzing coming back to poke and prod, see if he was still alive. But they came closer, armored footsteps clacking against stone and muffled as they stepped on and around the vines. So not another hallucination either. His eyes were kept closed, but he tilted his head to listen, to pinpoint their location. The voices quieted as they climbed up next to the egg. Then, one of them spoke again, directed at his cage.

“Hello Technoblade,” Bad greeted. Technoblade could hear the smile in his voice. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Technoblade inhaled through his nose, eyes still closed. He didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to be reminded of the one who trapped him here in the first place. He heard Bad equip something and tap the metal bit against the obsidian walls. A pickaxe, based on how the sound echoed.

“How do you feel about the egg, Technoblade?” When he didn’t answer, Bad slammed the pickaxe against the wall. “Answer! Or we’ll leave you here again.”

Technoblade huffed a laugh. He lifted his head up towards Bad, his eyes opening. He peered through the holes in the obsidian, staring at Bad’s face. He wanted an answer, huh? Then he’d give him one.

“Heed,” Technoblade said, his voice hoarse from disuse. His hand reached for the obsidian he’d broken from his earlier attempts at escape, closing around the sharpened point. Bad’s face contorted in confusion and Technoblade pressed on. “Heed, ye mortals. Heed the words of your prophets, lest they be true. Ye people, fearful of death and stillness, heed!” Technoblade stood as he spoke, eyes bright and wild. The words were an old speech he and Philza made together. Old friends aiming to strike fear and wonder in their enemies. “Your end beckons! The Angel of Death comes, his sword sharpened and called to your blood! His wings glow bright and his mercy has faded. Woe to thee, ye peoples laid low by sin and hate! Repent before him, and your deaths will be swift.” Technoblade stepped back, his hands raising before him, his golden blood dried and stained down the one arm. He revealed the obsidian blade, turning it towards his neck. Bad’s eyes widened in growing realization and Technoblade grinned at him. “I will soon rest my head in holy arms and he will rain fire upon you! HEED! FOR THIS IS YOUR END!” His movement swift, he aimed the blade straight for his neck. Bad lurched forward, a cry on his lips, but it was too late-!

NO!

The blade dropped from Technoblade’s hand and he slapped his hands over his ears. The egg shrieked, louder than anything, louder than explosions and withers, and he dropped to his knees. Its rage and fear shattered through him and his voice joined the cacophony in his head. His scream tore through his throat until he tasted blood.

Bad and Antfrost flinched back from the force of the egg’s shriek. Bad risked a glance back through the obsidian and saw Technoblade screaming with his hands over his ears. Bad’s breath came quick and he squeezed his hand around his pickaxe. They had to stop him, they… Someone would hear. Someone would hear! Bad cut away the obsidian and grabbed Technoblade by the cloak. He hauled backwards, dragging Technoblade’s body out of the cage. At the movement, Technoblade jumped up and aimed fingers curled like claws at Bad’s face. Bad reared back and dropped him. He crumpled to the floor of the cave. Even now, even with blood on his hands from where his flesh cut on the blade, even after three days in isolation, he looked like a wild beast. He snarled like one, struggling to stand to his feet. Bad pointed the pickaxe at Technoblade.

“Why won’t you stop! The egg has you! We’ve won!” Bad shouted.

“Won?” Technoblade laughed. Something sounded like it was bubbling out of him and Bad watched blood drip down from his lips. He coughed and laughed and coughed and laughed and then launched at Bad. He tackled him to the floor, knocked the breath out of him. Bad felt heat near his face as Technoblade forced him closer to a pit of lava. Suddenly, the weight lifted off of him. Bad sat up, coughing air back into his lungs. Antfrost had grabbed Technoblade and dragged him back. Like a beast, the piglin turned back on him, snarling as he aimed his tusks for Ant’s face. He blocked him with his shield, shoved him off. Unarmored and lacking weapons, Technoblade was still dangerous. He looked insane, the corruption evident on his face, but he still looked whole.

Bad heard a growing cacophony as the egg hissed and chanted. He missed some of the words, but it sounded like… It sounded like the egg was urging Technoblade on, urging him to kill Antfrost. Bad’s head snapped towards the egg, betrayal spiking through him like the prongs of a trident. He saw his plans unraveling before him. He couldn’t think here, not while his friend was in danger, not with the egg’s voice deafening them all with its desires pouring forth. Someone could still hear them! They could come down and stop them!

Bad jumped to his feet and ran to a chest. He dug through it, risking a glance back at Antfrost when he cried out. Technoblade had clawed his face, the blood dripping down his cheek. Ant swung his sword at Technoblade’s head and Bad called out in time to the egg.

“No! We need him!”

Technoblade ducked, but just barely. His reflexes were slower, his movements jerking even as he fought back. He had to be close to death! Bad couldn’t let him die! Not here! He turned back to the chest, digging through its contents until his hands closed around his prize. Bad spun on his heel and threw the potion of slowness at Technoblade, then leapt towards him with the rope. Technoblade tried to react, tried to claw him too. Bad dodged the blow, then caught him with a punch to the chin. Technoblade stumbled back, doubling over. Taking his chance, Bad looped the rope around Technoblade’s throat, a noose, and hauled back on the rope. Antfrost threw his body against him and pinned him to the ground. Bad pulled a muzzle out of his inventory and secured it around Technoblade’s snarling mouth. Technoblade coughed and choked and Bad loosened the rope just enough to let him breathe.

“What,” Antfrost panted, glancing up at Bad. “What are we going to do now?”

Bad licked his lips, panting in time as he glared back at Technoblade. There weren’t too many people around tonight. They hadn’t seen anyone hanging around. They had time. Not much, probably, but they had time!

“We’re taking him back to my place. We’ll force him to change his respawn point. And then we’ll make sure he loves the egg.”

---

Philza heard the polar bears shuffling outside and a shocked little “Oh!”. Footsteps up the stairs, then a shifting of weight, then a tentative knock. He sighed, touched the sword at his side to remind him it was there, and opened the door.

“Puffy?”

“Oh! Phil! Do… do you live here?” Puffy asked, quickly glancing over her shoulder. She was decked out in full netherite. Worry and determination dripped off her like rain on feathers.

“Yes.” Philza let her in. It was cold this afternoon, even colder without Technoblade around. “Puffy, how did you find this place?”

“Oh, well, Tommy mentioned when I asked.”

Of course, he did, Philza thought with an annoyed huff. He gestured for her to sit, but she didn’t take the opportunity. “Are you… okay?” He asked, slowly turning towards her as he grabbed his mug of tea. It was peppermint, to soothe the nerves. It was Techno's favorite.

“No, not really.” The honesty was strange to hear, not because he assumed to hear a lie, but because Philza had grown used to trying to decipher Techno’s tone when he was trying to be sincere, or when he was hiding things. Puffy was still talking so Philza turned his attention back to her. “Bad tried to take me out and I was looking for Technoblade because I wanted his help.”

“His help?”

“Phil, what do you know about the egg?”

“The thing that’s causing all the red vines to grow? What about it?”

Philza listened to Puffy and her story. He listened to how they found the egg in the pit of L’Manberg, their decisions on what to do with it, and the effects it was having on people. The more she talked, the more his horror grew. His wings puffed out with his growing dread.

“Sam had only been in there for a few hours and it made him start eating his own flesh! It has to go, but I don’t know who I can trust anymore. I wanted to talk to Technoblade and see if we can’t do something about it ourselves. Have you seen him recently?”

“No, I… I haven’t. He’s been gone for three days and I’m starting to get worried. No message, no warning, nothing.”

Puffy opened her mouth when the doors slammed open. Puffy jolted up, sword already drawn, and swinging to face the attacker. Ranboo jumped back with a chirp, hands up in the air.

“Sorry, uh, I tried to open it and the wind caught it.” Ranboo glanced at Puffy, then at Philza, who was busying himself with his cup of tea. “Did I interrupt something?”

“No, you can come in,” Philza said before Puffy could say anything. “He lives nearby and I invited him to dinner,” he said as explanation. Puffy slowly sat back down, her weapon sheathed. A thought came to him and he turned to Ranboo. “Ranboo, have you seen Techno? He was passing by L’Manberg the last time we spoke.”

“Oh!” He opened up one of his memory books and flipped through the pages. “Yeah, I saw him over there. Uh, three days ago?”

That matched up with the timeline, but…

“No sooner?”

“Nope.”

Philza frowned, his fingers tapping on the table as he thought. He had tried messaging him the other day, worry eating at his edges when Techno didn't come home for dinner. But all he received was static. That happened sometimes, when Techno was too far away, but he couldn't have made it that far in a day, even if he used the nether portals. Sometimes they’d get interference, but that was too hard to track. Something was up and Philza was determined to get to the bottom of it.

"Did something happen to him?" Ranboo asked, standing far from Puffy.

"We don't know for sure yet. But this is strange behavior, even from him." Philza tipped back the rest of his tea and pushed up from the table. He rummaged through the chests, equipping his gear in silence. When he turned back, he rested his hand on his sword to remind him it was there. "Let's go find out."

Philza led them through the nether portal, striding across the cobblestone path with purpose. Puffy followed him, her stride matching his, while Ranboo took up the rear. They weren't in the nether for long when Ranboo made a familiar chirp of Ender. Philza stopped and turned towards him, quirking up his eyebrow as he waited to hear what Ranboo remembered.

"I saw Techno, Bad, and Antfrost go into that weird egg building too. You know the one?"

Philza did not, but by the way Puffy stiffened, she did. That kind of reaction did not bode well.

"Technoblade went in there? With Bad?" She asked, growing panic seeping into her voice. At Ranboo's nod, she swore. "That's the place they trapped Sam in! We have to get to him!"

Philza felt something sharp twist in his chest. That was the place? Where Sam had been trapped and made to eat his own flesh? Philza's mind was racing now with the implications. Sam had only been there for a few hours, but if the worst had truly come to past and Techno had been down there for three days…

They had to hurry. But something kept him there, still and indecisive. He glanced at Ranboo and felt that same sharp twisting in his chest. The kid was shaking, minutely, but shaking. Philza remembered just a few days ago, when Ranboo was fixing up his house, he admitted some of his fears. He didn't want to get dragged into more stuff. Not after everything that happened. The quiet in the snowy biome was good and safe. He looked so relaxed and happy. He did not look that way now, not with the way he was inching towards the portal to run. Philza was determined to protect him from suffering any more than he already had. The decision was made even before he finished thinking it, as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Ranboo, go back to the house." Puffy cried out in protest, but he overruled her. "We might be wrong. Go back to the house and message me the second you see Techno, if he comes home before us." Ranboo straightened and hurried back through the portal. Puffy watched him go with a mix of frustration and confusion clear on her face.

"Do you really think that--"

"No," Philza replied immediately, not caring that he had interrupted her. "But that kid doesn't need to be dragged into any more shit."

Puffy looked back at the portal and nodded, finally. Philza started back down the path, but when he didn't hear her follow, he turned back. She raised up a hand to shush whatever he was about to say, tilting her head in that way that meant she was messaging someone.

"Hey, Sam?"

Dream watched Sam set down the bowl of soup on the netherite wall between them, eyeing it hungrily. Sam opened his mouth to say something, but crackling filled the space between them and the words were lost forever.

"Puffy?"

Dream hummed, inching towards the wall impatiently. He watched him intently as he had a conversation right in front of his dinner. He wasn't allowed to grab it before Sam stepped back, in case he tried to do something rash.

"Technoblade? No, I have not seen him since he visited the prison last week. Why?"

At the mention of his partner, Dream blinked and stepped closer, analyzing Sam's face as he frowned. Sam shook his head, taking a step back. Panic was winding tight around him and it set off old alerts in Dream’s brain.

"With Bad? No, no, that's not- nothing good will come of that."

"Sam, what's going on?" Dream asked. The mention of Bad was… it made his heart twist sharply. He missed him, but why was Technoblade with Bad? Sam didn’t respond to him, instead shaking his head slowly.

“Puffy, I would come and help, but…” He glanced at Dream. Dream knew the look of someone considering decisions and watched Sam make up his mind. He turned away from Dream, stepped back, and crossed the lava pit. The netherite wall didn't lower, not even as Sam deliberately walked to the levers. Before the lava came down, he heard Sam's voice echo through the prison.

"INITIATE CODE 7 LOCKDOWN." Dream blinked, pressed close to the wall. Lockdown? Total lockdown? What the hell was happening? And why did it involve Technoblade?

And it was in that moment, as the lava dripped down, that he heard screaming.

Dream went still. Sam wouldn’t hear it, couldn’t hear it. But Dream could. He could hear Techno screaming. Technoblade could shout, growl, snarl, but Dream rarely heard him scream. He closed his eyes, pinpointing the location. Deep underground, nearby. The sound echoed; he was in a cave. But… Where! His jaws dropped in, a growl starting low in his chest. That was a scream of pain. It was not a sound he had ever heard from Techno and to hear it come from his mouth sent Dream’s body transforming before he could slow it. He ripped off the mask, let it clatter to the side. His clothes went next; they never survived the transformation. A wild glance at the netherite wall made him pause for only a second. Then he grabbed the clock and brought it close to his chest. Breaking the wall first would take too long and he would need the netherite next. But the lockdown meant it would not go back down until Sam decided it could. And he needed to get out. He felt his flesh change slowly. It was too slow, far too slow. He could no longer hear Technoblade screaming and he did not know whether he preferred it that way. He willed his flesh to change to gold. It would be better, easier to slip over the wall if he was already malleable. Finally, finally, it was enough. He tossed aside the clock, heard it shatter against the obsidian as he squeezed over the wall. Pain shot through his system like fractures as a rib broke under the pressure. It didn’t matter. It didn’t MATTER!

Dream gave himself a moment to breathe through the pain once he was on the other side. Belatedly, he realized his soup was splattered across the floor. It didn’t matter. He pressed his back to the netherite wall, willing his flesh to change again. Netherite was harder, but at least he was already gold. That helped. That helped. When he was fully netherite, he glared at the lava, panting. His body had finished the transformation and he felt old and new at once. It had been far too long since he took this form. It had been far too long. Already, he could feel himself slipping. Slipping away from Dream, the mastermind of this realm. Away from Dream the prisoner, away from the name he had given himself in an attempt to hide the worst of him. To hide the nightmare he was.

He pounced into the lava, the heat immediate. But netherite did not burn. Netherite would protect him until he got to where he knew he could break out. He knew the plans for this prison, he had helped Sam design it. He knew where weaknesses lied and where he could push through, even weakened as he was. He swam up to the ceiling, hooked his claws in between the cracks, and began digging.

---

Technoblade stumbled forward, his vision swimming. Antfrost pushed him forward again with the tips of his trident. He glared behind him, growling still. They had dragged him up from the cave to the surface. They were taking him to Bad’s house. To force him to respawn there should he die. His attempt to escape worked, but only just. He was out, away from the egg, but he was restrained. The muzzle around his mouth was secured tightly, the noose around his neck choking him every time his steps trailed. He felt so weak from his time with the egg. His broken leg felt wrong, given little time to heal before he was back on it. Another push from Antfrost sent him crumpling to the ground.

“Get up,” Bad said from above him. Technoblade didn’t feel like he had the strength to. When he didn’t move, Bad’s foot kicked into his side. “I said, get. Up.” From his place on the ground, Technoblade started laughing.

“What if I don’t?” he asked past the muzzle, turning onto his side to breathe. “Are you going to kill me?”

“You know I can’t do that. Not before I know where you’ll spawn.”

“And what’s your plan after? Give me to the egg? Even when I come back I won’t love the egg! You and it can rot with me!”

Bad growled. He dragged him up by the cloak and shoved him forward again. Technoblade stumbled a few more steps before turning around.

“Your plans failed!” Technoblade shouted in crazed delight. He twisted even as the noose went tighter. He dug his hands under the muzzle and, with the last of his strength, he ripped it off. “They have failed and they will fail over and over again! They—” The three of them froze as a dark shape passed over them What the hell? Technoblade lifted his head, eyes widening when he found the shape. He saw it high above them as it hovered, the poison green of its eyes just barely visible. His grin widened and he turned to Bad. With a voice hoarse from screaming, he hissed, “Repent, mortals.”

And then the shape crashed in between them.

---

Finally, finally! Netherite claws burst through obsidian. Dream pulled his body free, the night air cold like ice as lava dripped from his skin. He exhaled a breath, hot steam rising through the chilled air. It was odd to not have the heavy presence of the obsidian surrounding him, feel it cold under his feet. He shook off the rest of the lava, stretching much like a cat as his tail flicked off the rest of it. Time for the last of his transformation, to see if he still could do it. Otherwise, he would have to scale down the wall and risk the warden hearing. Dream focused, rolling his shoulders, until a loud crack split the air like thunder. A wing opened up, heavy and dark like his flesh. Then, the other wing opened. It hurt, after spending so much time hiding them. He stretched them out and groaned low into the air. His mouth didn’t work right in this form, his mouth unable to speak more than a few words of the language of those around him. He remembered briefly how long it took him to learn the language, how much he struggled until he learned how to hide his jaws. He shook his head, refocusing on the task at hand.

Dream opened his mouth, tasting the air. He had to find his rival, his soulbleeder. Wind blew into his face, flowing down his body, and he breathed it in. All his senses lit up as he tasted the blood of his soulbleeder on the wind. His claws dug into the obsidian, a low growl rolling in his chest. He would ruin those who dared to hurt what was his. He leapt off the prison wall and took to the air. It felt like home, even after being grounded for so long. But he couldn’t reminisce. He had to find him. He had to.

The buildings below him looked familiar, but he disregarded them. A lurch of movement caught his eye as he passed over. He studied them briefly, eyes scanning the short shape that dove to the ground and the tall shape reaching for its sword. But neither of them was the one he searched for. He ignored them. Then, like a stain upon this world, Dream saw the demon among them; the wolf in sheep’s clothing. He pulled up, passed over them as he watched. A flash of red, a flash of tusks, and a muzzle ripped free. Dream’s vision tunneled to the figure struggling to stand, but still fighting. His chest twisted, recognition folding his wings, and he dropped to the ground like a stone.

The crash of his impact was deafening. A memory flashed before his eyes: withers reigning terror upon the souls who thought themselves greater than they were and the TNT he dropped upon them for that mistake. This moment reminded him of then. He lifted his head and first looked at his soulbleeder. Techno blinked, recognition washing over his face. Dream rumbled fondly at him, a rare softness. Techno stepped forward, his mouth opening to speak. But he dropped. Dream checked him; he was breathing, just passed out from the effort and strain of his battle. A body stumbled back behind him and Dream swung his head around immediately. His lips lifted in a snarl as he positioned himself between Techno and those who wished to harm him.

The smaller one stumbled back in his fright, netherite sword falling out of his hands and into the dirt. The other, tall and demonic, his tail lashing, smelled… strange. Familiar. It made his chest ache and he didn't remember why. All he remembered was his soulbleeder, his rival. No one else. The demon tilted his head, staring down at the nightmare, paling as recognition hit. Dream's jaws opened, tasting his fear, dropping into a stance to pounce, to go for the throat, and hold until the body stopped thrashing.

"Dream?" came a voice and it halted Dream's motion. He blinked, snarl faded into silence. "Dream? Is… is that you?" Bad asked, voice trembling.

He blinked and

Dream blinked and breathed in deep, tasting the air. Bad, Bad, his friend. Close enough of a friend that he had once almost considered him starfated, if he had known what it meant. Dream's mouth closed and he stepped back from Bad, poison eyes watching him. He reached for Techno, his heart yearning and aching so much he wanted to lay down and whine. Speaking was hard, but he was not so far gone that he couldn't shift his mouth to speak.

"DON'T FOLLOW," Dream growled. With Techno firmly in his claws, Dream took to the sky once more. He did not look back as he flew him home.

Bad watched Dream fly away, his hopes flying away with him. He pressed the heels of his hands to his face and screamed his frustration. It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t FAIR! With a growl of his own, he picked up his trident. The first drops of rain fell on him. With a begging prayer to any god who wouldn’t forsake them, he dropped to a knee to shake Antfrost.

“Come on, you muffin head! We have to go!”

“You’re not going anywhere!” Bad spun on his heel at Puffy’s voice. The rain began to pour when his gaze landed on her, her sword and shield raised at the ready. “Where’s Techno?!” She shouted. Bad started to stand when he saw the figure behind her. His face paled and he took a step back. Technoblade’s warning came back to mind. Heed, and repent! Philza, the Angel of Death, stared down at him, hand on the hilt of his sword. His expression, cold and enraged, made Bad’s heart palpitate with fear. He took another step back, nearly stumbling over Antfrost. He risked a glance at him and urged him to stand. He was shaking as he took to his feet, looking ready to flee. A glance back at Philza told him why. The man had stepped forward, his sword now unsheathed. They couldn’t fight them, Bad knew that in the depths of his soul. Even alone, Philza stood leagues above them. Bad took another step back and Philza followed him. Bad’s breaths were coming fast, panting with his growing panic. He couldn’t die here. He couldn’t die now!

“Bad!” Puffy called. “Tell us what you did with-uh.” Her face contorted as if she was biting back her words. Philza turned his head to her, his expression softer and gentle. She stepped back, holding up a hand. “Sam?”

It was only then that Philza realized he could hear the crackling of the call. He waited patiently for her conversation to end, only half listening. Something moved out of the corner of his eye and he snapped his face back to Bad. Bad and Antfrost were backing up, though Bad was looking at Puffy with an intense expression that Philza did not recognize.

“Sam, uh, can you wait a minute? We-We’re kind of in the middle of-“ Puffy’s words trailed off as her face paled. “No…” she whispered, eyes drifting towards the prison.

“Puffy?” Philza started. More movement from Bad had him looking back at him. Bad had a feral look in his eyes, trident in hand.

“Don’t follow us!” He hissed before he and Antfrost flew away with the tridents. Philza growled, his wings spreading so he could gain speed and follow them.

“Phil, wait,” Puffy said, holding her hand out.

“They might have taken Techno somewhere, Puffy! We can’t just keep stalling like this!”

“No, Phil. Sam, he,” she paused, licking her lips as she hesitated.

“What is it?”

“It’s Dream. He’s gone.”

Philza felt the lightning before it came, felt the crack of thunder long before he heard it. Even that was silent compared to Puffy’s reveal.

“He… What?”

“Sam didn’t find him in his cell. The prison was in total lockdown so he could come help us and he still got out!”

Philza squeezed his hand around the hilt of his sword, indecision taking root again. If Dream was gone… Why now? Why now?! And where was Technoblade? He had been with Bad, but they just found Bad and he wasn’t here! Where???

“Phil?”

Philza closed his eyes and swallowed his hesitation. He straightened and leveled his gaze with Puffy. “Go see if you can help Sam. I’ll go find Bad. I’ll go find Techno.”

“Are you sure? What if they try to take you too?”

"I'd like to see them try," Philza said. His voice had dropped into a deep growl. He reached for his trident-

"Phil?" Ranboo's voice came crackling through the communicator. His voice was shaking, afraid of something, and Philza forced himself gentle before he spoke.

"Ranboo, this is a bad time. Can we talk later?"

"No, uh. You said to call you when I saw Techno?"

That caught Philza's attention. "Did you see him?"

"Well, no, I-I don't really know. But this big dark shape flew overhead and… I-I-I think I saw him. It crashed in the hills."

"Dark…" He thought of Puffy diving to the ground earlier, instinct taking over to hide. But nothing flew here, not without rain. And nothing that big. "Ranboo, get a torch ready. I'm coming back."

Philza turned on his heel, trident in hand, when a loud crack of thunder made him flinch. He eyed the sky, eyed the lightning storm above him, and put away the trident. He'd be slower, but he wasn't about to risk death here. For Techno, yes, yes, he would in a heartbeat. But he was useless to Techno right now if he was dead. Philza broke out into a sprint, weaving through buildings and vines until his feet hit wood. The wind and thunder roared in his ears in time to his heartbeat, in time with his racing footsteps. His wings flared out and caught a gust of wind. When he landed, he slipped on the stone. Pain burned through his skull from the slice in his hand and he pushed himself to his feet. Come on, he had to. He had to go! If there was a chance that Techno was safe…! If there was a chance he was okay!

Philza slid through the portal. The rain evaporated off him in an instant as he bolted down the path. He knew the nether well enough, knew this path enough to know how to use his wings to catch him, to stop him from falling. He would find Techno. He would save him. No matter what dangers he faced, he would save him. No matter what horrors his friend faced, no matter if the egg corrupted him, he would save him! He would. He would!

He would.

Philza couldn’t stand to see his friend suffer. He couldn’t stand to be part of any more suffering. If he had to, he would take Techno far away. He would take his friend far from them all. From all the pain and suffering. He would take Ranboo too. Gods above knew the kid had suffered enough. He would fix it. He would keep them safe.

He would.

He ducked into the portal and was met with air so cold it burned his lungs. He coughed, the cold already seeping in through his armor, through the remaining heat of the nether. He wrapped his wings tight around him and glanced at the sky. There was no storm here. Just the icy light of the moon. He hurried towards home, hurried towards torchlight. Ranboo was waiting outside, torch burning in hand. As Philza approached, he touched the sword at his sword to remind him it was still there.

---

Dream squeezed Techno's arm, willing his skin from netherite to flesh, willing his body less into nightmare. Techno was cold, barely breathing in the snow. He was still unconscious. Dream could smell that his throat was still raw and reeking of blood spilled wrong. Seeing his soulbleeder laid low like that sent everything inside Dream still tethered to this world asunder. He would have killed them, slaughtered them until the grass was black with their entrails. But his name, whispered in fear from the mouth of someone who still looked like his friend, dragged his head out of the sea he drowned in. It was enough that Dream picked up Techno, heavy and limp like a corpse, and flew him back. Dream flew back to the snow and cold of Techno's home, until his body gave out under the weight of his own flesh. They were still too far and Dream felt so weak. He would never make it there and back to the prison without rest. But he could not rest in the snow, not while Techno might be suffering, still under the egg's influence. No, he had to get him home.

The schling of a sword unsheathed was Dream's only warning. The blade halted just under his chin and he was forced to look up. Torchlight flickered behind Philza, the dim light barely illuminating his face. But Dream didn't need the light to see him, to see the expression. He could taste Philza's fear from here.

A soft gasp pulled Dream's attention away from the shaking sword from his throat, his gaze flicking to the one who held the torch. Ranboo thrust the torch forward to help Philza see better and Dream flinched from the light. Too used to darkness, the light burned.

"What are you doing here?" came Philza's voice, his worry cracking like jaws through a turtle shell. Dream gazed up at him, at his disgust, his anger, his terror. Dream breathed it in, willing his aching body back to life, back to movement. He turned his head towards Technoblade, and for one brief chilling moment, he thought his partner dead. A weak, shaking breath revealed the worst had not yet come to pass.

"Ranboo," Philza started, the name spoken sharply. The sword had begun to waver, but now snapped back in place at Dream's throat. "Take Techno back to the house." His gaze focused on Dream, briefly leaving the monster to hiss his order at Ranboo again. Ranboo startled and dropped the torch. A soft chirp of Ender left him as he hurried to pick up Techno. He stilled when he got close to Dream, a single step from panicking. Dream eyed him, his hand curling tight on Techno's arm, until finally releasing him. Ranboo dragged him onto his shoulders and hurried away from the two, leaving them in flickering darkness.

"Dream," Philza said, pressing the blade closer to his throat. Dream lifted up his gaze, his inhuman eyes blinking at the man. Philza had never seen the man without his mask on. To his knowledge, none of them had. Seeing his face now, after everything he had done…

He could now see him for the monster he really was.

"Why are you here?" Phil asked again, struggling to keep calm.

“They were going to kill him, Phil.” The sentence should have been an explosion of sound, a scream, a snarl, a roar! But it came out of Dream like a whimper, bitter anger and helplessness. It was a mirror of the helplessness Phil felt when he realized his old friend was in danger and the terror of not getting to him fast enough. It was a kinship, he felt suddenly. Phil set his jaw firm and hardened himself against that thought. He did not want to feel kinship with the monster before him. Dream continued, his head hanging away from the sword.

“I… I don’t know how long he was down there, but,” he bit his lip. Phil could see glimpses of the emotions racing across his face and he was struck by how open Dream was. His voice, even, held open desperation. “Phil. I could hear him screaming.” Phil went cold, so cold he swore his heart stuttered to a stop. The implications flooded his mind until it was all he could see. Techno trapped above the egg, its voice the loudest thing in his head. He wouldn’t have been able to mine out of the obsidian. They had found his gear locked in a chest. Techno’s hands had been bloody, hadn’t they? It was hard to see in the dark, but… Had he tried to claw his way out? They assumed three days, but how long had he really been there? How long had he suffered alone?

“So, I brought him home. To you.” The way he addressed Phil was full of venom, but also… It sounded like a concession, an admittance that he never wanted to speak into existence. What? That Philza was better equipped to take care of Technoblade? There was also a hint of…

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t run you through on my blade,” Phil said, guiding both his thoughts and Dream’s head back to the matter at hand.

“Because if I die, then death is permanent?”

“A different one,” Phil hissed. Dream contemplated him, like he didn’t have a sword inches from his throat. The torchlight died, plunging them into darkness. As Phil’s eyes adjusted to the cold moonlight, Dream’s voice came, whispered like a corpse’s dying breath.

“Because I don’t know if Techno’s going to survive the night.”

“Is that a threat?” Phil asked. His voice did not waver, but he felt his fear settle in again. If he killed Dream here and Techno died before he could get back… But if he ran now, it meant letting Dream roam free. Phil couldn’t live with himself if he was the cause for more suffering. His indecision trapped him. His sword twisted in his hands and he focused on Dream again. Dream’s jaws opened, teeth reflecting the moonlight as he dragged himself to his feet. His hand braced around the edge of the sword and he leveled his gaze with Phil’s.

“What do I gain by threatening you here, Phil?!” Dream yanked the sword back to his throat. Phil expected to see more snarls, more teeth, more threats. What he saw instead froze him in his tracks. Dream’s eyes, wild and poison green, were tear filled and feral in his desperation.

“Why do you care!” He shouted back. He ripped the sword out of Dream’s hand, his wings flaring behind him. “Techno hates you! Why would you save him?”

Dream’s eyes widened. He stumbled back, dark blood dripping onto the snow as realization cracked across his face. “He never told you,” he said softly, as if to himself. Before Phil could respond, Dream stepped forward and continued with a voice as hard as bedrock. “Techno is the last thing tethering me to this world.” Phil blinked. He took in Dream’s expression, the unshakeable truth to his words. But…

“What about Tommy?”

“Tommy?” Disbelief danced across Dream’s face. A sick laugh bubbled out of him. Dream hugged himself as he laughed even harder. “Tommy?!” Once his laughter subsided, Dream grinned wildly at Phil. “Tommy is just a toy to be used and played with.” His grin faded and he hugged himself tighter. “Techno is different.”

“Different?” Phil shook his head and sighed. He couldn’t deal with this. He didn’t understand what Dream meant and the longer he stayed out here, the longer Technoblade was left without help. Ranboo didn’t know how to take care of a body, to heal and make it whole again. Technoblade could be dying and Phil wasn’t by his side. He had to make a decision and he had to make it now. “So, what even is your plan here? Save Technoblade and you think that makes up for everything you did? Do you think you can just roam free now?”

“No, I—“

"Then what?" Phil asked, hilt of the blade humming familiar violence under his fingers. Just one stroke.

"I’ll head back," Dream said, caught by a shiver wracking his body. He lifted his hands up in a staying gesture. "Just as soon as I can. I mean, hey," he shot Phil an exhausted smile, something that should have been cavalier, would have been, if Dream was acting like he normally did. "It was made for me, after all. May as well."

“It… what?”

Something lit up in Dream’s eyes and he tilted his head. “The prison. Was designed to hold me. Of course, I belong there.”

Philza didn’t want to think about the implications of that. It was cold, the moon drifting higher in the sky, and he was exhausted. He didn’t want to give up this easily though. He gripped his sword and opened his mouth to say something at Dream.

“You know what?” Dream started, taking a step back. “How about this: you let me go back, alone, and I’ll owe you a favor. Anything you want. Anything at all.” Philza eyed him for a long moment. Then, with a soft sigh, he sheathed his sword and took a step back. Dream smiled and gave him a nod; their deal agreed upon. His body cracked as his wings opened again and he started to turn away from Phil.

“Dream,” Phil called, a hand outstretched as if to stay him. “You need to understand one thing first. If you ever hurt Technoblade, I’ll run you through on this sword myself.” Dream turned back and leveled his gaze with him.

“If I ever hurt Technoblade, I’ll let you.” Dream turned on his heel, and started to walk away. Phil started to turn away, his thoughts shifting to Technoblade in their house and how he was going to fix him, when something dropped in front of his face. The enchanted sheen of the god apple shone up at him from the snow.

---

Sam tapped his foot, his anxiety crawling around like spiders as the lava slowly crept down. Somehow, somehow, Dream had escaped. Escaped into the night and no one around knew what happened. He didn't alert many people. Just Puffy, who had called about Technoblade and the egg. She told Philza, since he had been with her. She rushed over and he gave her temporary access to help him search the prison for break ins or weaknesses. The only thing they had found were some blocks placed wrong in the ceiling. Above several stories of lava. The mining fatigue curse was still in place. There was no sign of tools, no sign of potions. The only thing different about the cell was that damn clock was broken again. And Dream's mask and some of his clothes were in the chest. Which was… strange. The last person to have visited Dream was Technoblade almost a week ago. And Sam searched him! Searched his crown even! And there was nothing! Sam was going to check the cell again, praying that he had somehow missed something to explain Dream's escape.

The lava receded into the floor and Sam looked up to the cell and froze. He blinked several times, even rubbed at his eyes to rid what must be a sleep deprived hallucination. But the scene before him didn't change.

Dream, his back pressed against the far wall, sat with his knees pulled up in front of him. The mask was back on, all his clothes on, and he looked as though he was writing in one of his journals. It was a scene that Sam had grown accustomed to seeing when he brought Dream his meals. But…

"What?!" He shouted across the expanse. Dream looked up at the noise. Seeing Sam, he waved. He got up, put away the journal, and stepped close to the edge of the cell.

"Hey, Sam," Dream called.

"Where did you go?!”

“Out.”

“How did you get out?!”

"There's a little weakness in the blocks up there that you might want to check out," Dream explained, pointing up at the ceiling. Right where Sam had found the blocks placed wrong.

"How did you get up there?!"

Dream shrugged and stepped back from the edge. "Do you think you could get me a new clock?"

Sam narrowed his eyes at Dream, stepped back, and flipped the lever to bring the lava back down.

#technodream #technophil #dream smp #technoblade #dream #philza #dream smp fic #dsmp #mystuff #this has been a pain to tag cuz i just keep blanking on it #these bonds we keep #this fic is almost 13k words so tbh read it on ao3 #i also worked sooooooooooo hard on this fic #hope you enjoy it

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