Chapter Text
Philza stopped dead in his tracks. Dream had taken out his axe, only to point it at Tommy’s throat instead of him. The gentle glow of magic illuminated the boy’s face, only further defining the circles beneath his tired eyes.
Tommy watched his father evaluate his options, calculation turning to desperation as his actions stuttered. Tommy didn’t move, he didn’t have the energy. He closed his eyes and focused on the burn of netherite against his jugular; the buzz sent through his body by the tight grip on his shoulder. It wasn’t unfamiliar, in fact, it was the only thing that felt real. He had died twice now to that axe, to those hands. What was one more? Other than the end to the cruelty he had faced until now.
No one spoke, no one moved. Any sudden change could be the catalyst for catastrophe.
Dream however, did not need to be provoked.
In an instant, Dream threw an ender pearl towards the Eastern treeline, wrapping his arms around Tommy’s gaunt frame. He gasped at the sudden motion, only to have the breath knocked out of him as the pearl hit the ground with a crack, pulling Dream and Tommy with it.
He struggled to keep his balance when Dream let go. Tommy could hardly register what had just happened. The world tilted on its side, and though the smoky haze was now behind him, a blur still skewed his vision.
“Tommy!” Philza spun towards where the pearl had fallen. It seemed to have landed just beyond Tommy’s tent. Though he couldn’t see his face, his son looked dazed and unbalanced.
“Dad?” Tommy looked back when he heard his name, his own voice a quiet rasp. He hadn’t called Phil that since he was little, but right now that’s who he needed, his dad . He could see Phil running away from Logstead towards him, for him. A flicker of hope and clarity appeared in his mind before a rough hand grabbed his wrist.
“Cmon’.” Dreams voice rattled his brain, conscious thoughts colliding like spinning tops.
Tommy stumbled as Dream pulled him away from his saving grace.
“W-wait-” Tommy pleaded “Dre- Dream please-”
“Shut up. Just run.” He interrupted, not looking towards the boy’s frightened gaze. Tommy’s mouth automatically snapped shut, but Tommy was angry. Clarity was just coming back to him, and in a last act of defiance, he pulled himself away from Dream’s grasp, the masked man unprepared for resistance. Lurching away from the treeline and towards his father, Tommy felt weightless. For a moment he was free, in flight, unbound by his exile, and eyes turned towards his father’s concerned gaze and open arms.
As he ran, Tommy felt an abrupt stab of pain in the back of his head, and collapsed face first onto the grass. His head throbbed with the beating of his heart, but the gentle green beneath him cushioned the ache. Eyes half lidded, he considered that, maybe, he could just… stay here. Tommy felt himself being lifted off the ground as the world darkened at the edges, the shouts of his father fading into the distance of his quickly fading vignette.
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In a distant snow biome, a pigman hybrid grunts in frustration. The voices had, seemingly unprompted, filled his previously calm mind. They whispered incessantly, voices of all kinds of beings, killed by the hand of the Blood God’s vassals, urging him to visit Tommy. It could mean something, or could be his own guilty conscious catching up to him in the quiet of retirement.
He wouldn’t give in. Techno was resolute in his choice not to contact Tommy. He might have been his brother, but he was also an insufferable menace. Not to mention traitor and government sympathizer. If Phil came back, insisting he had changed, he might trust his father’s opinion, and consider dropping by Logstead to see him.
Until then, however, Technoblade sighed as he set his book down and stood up from his comfortable seat, lifting the Axe of Peace from its place by the door. He would just have to distract himself from the noise.
The chilled wind rushed to greet Techno as he opened the heavy front door. His steps crunched as he left footprints in the newly fallen snow. He stood for a moment in the clearing in front of his cottage, taking in the tundra air with a deep sigh, face turned up to the cloudless cerulean sky. The voices were quieter, but he knew it was only the cold fighting for control of his senses.
Techno continued away from his house, making his way into the rich forest. Nearly all the trees in the area surrounding the Dream SMP had been chopped down by its residents, leaving resources scarce. Reverence for the L’mantree was a pitiful testament to the devastation of the surrounding forests. Not here though, never here. He and Philza always replanted, and he hoped this continent would never know what those lands knew.
Techno wasn’t in the forest with an axe to chop down a tree today, however. He just needed to get his frustration out and hopefully quiet the voices. He stopped at the base of a large tree, perhaps one of the largest in the area. It already had many gashes in its side from days before when it had become too much, not even just the voices, the pressure, the unfairness of it all. He lifted the axe behind his head, hands empowered by the enchantments rippling through the axe head and down through the handle. He brought the blade down with considerable force, ensuring that he placed each ounce of bottled up rage into the swing.
A gentle hum interrupted his endeavor, and Techno halted his swing just centimeters away from the bark of the spruce tree.
“Damn it.” He sighed and let his axe hand rest at his side, using the other to pick out his communicator from the miscellaneous items in his inventory. Phil had contacted him. That was unusual, he knew he wouldn’t be able to convince Techno to-
Techno read the message, and his breath caught in his throat. He had made a grave mistake.
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He couldn’t believe this! Dream’s protege, his tool, had tried to get away. Just when he thought he had the kid in his grasp, he proved too stubborn for his own good. No matter how many times he had taken his things, berated him for meaningless things, even raised his hand to him, he still wouldn’t listen. In a bout of frustration, Dream punched the wall, knuckles aching from the contact. Where had he gone wrong?
Dream turned towards the center of the simply furnished room with a sigh, running his hands through his unkempt hair. Tommy would be afraid if he had seen that, but thankfully he was still asleep in the room set aside for him. He had been trying not to scare the kid. They’re less likely to run if they feel safe. But maybe things would have to be different. Who knew how many months of work had been undone by just a brief visit from Phil?
What if he believed his father loved him? Was that spark of defiance he had seen here to stay? He’d have to break him all over again. Tommy was a masterpiece in the making. If Tommy was going to be his weapon, maybe even replace him one day, Dream couldn’t have mercy.
Dream sat on one of several wicker chairs in the room. Despite what Techno had to say, Dream really did have a home. It was right here, thousands of blocks to the South East of Logstead, further than he was sure anyone in the SMP had traveled. He carefully removed his mask, scarred features finally able to breathe. The man held the porcelain plate carefully in his work-worn hands. His teacher had gifted it to him, and someday he hoped to give a similar one to Tommy.
Dream carefully inspected the edges, hardly chipped despite many battles, and painted smile still vibrant despite hundreds of years of sun. No surprise that it had held up for this long though, there was no doubting the handiwork of the gods. His mentor had supposedly crafted it with aid from Dream XD himself. Despite having been named after the benevolent deity, Dream had never actually believed in the pantheon. Technoblade’s potential involvement with Blood God, and the influence of Lord Prime over his own SMP however, had been changing his mind as of late. Despite the cruelness of this world, maybe there was something greater, perhaps-
A thud from Tommy’s room interrupted his thoughts. Dream quickly secured the mask onto his face, his eyes no longer seeing the world for him. The wooden floors creaked as he stood.
It was time to start his evaluation,
and for the boy’s sake and his own, Dream hoped he wouldn’t have to start over.