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“Hello, Dream. Bet you didn’t expect to see me here.”
“No no no no no no no more. Please please please—Please no more.” Dream flinches in response, mumbling incoherently desperate from the corner, eyes squeezed shut.
His breathing is fast, too fast and his whole body is trembling from the effort. He doesn’t seem to be lucid or aware of the situation. Tucked in the corner, knees to his chest and arms around his legs in a position that protects the most vulnerable parts of his desecrated body, he just continues pleading hysterically, voice hoarse and almost undecipherable.
Dream seems much worse than when he last saw him, though it’s not a complete surprise. Techno wasn’t sure what condition he’d find him in to be honest. He knew Quackity would be pissed when he disappeared and he knew Dream would face the consequences. It was rather terrible timing for his escape, convenient for him not to be murdered and all. But Quackity being present and in a fit of rage he fueled is not a scene he wanted to leave Dream in.
Still, Dream seems to be in one piece (more or less) so he’s grateful for that at least. He hates that, that is one of the best case scenarios, given Dream is currently losing himself to panic in the corner. But he’ll take what he can get. He just hopes he is able to walk and hold his own in battle. Fighting the entire server with a mangled Dream in his arms doesn’t sound particularly fun.
Brushing that scene out of his head, he studies the cell, evaluating the situation to form a plan. Obviously when he arrived the first thing he noticed was the glass wall separating them, casting the cell in an even darker haze. But now that he’s paying attention he sees blood on the walls, on the floor and a large dried puddle on the chest where a dog used to be. It makes his stomach tighten, in rage or dread he’s not sure.
It’s concerning to say the least because he knows Sam usually cleans up after Quackity. Dream said as much anyways and the cell was relatively clean during his stay.
Not that he’s overly shocked by the sight. He just prays it’s only from the day he was last here and not any days after. Though Dream’s current state does little to assuage his fears.
Deciding that he has to make a move at some point, he places TNT and lights it, cringing at the reaction it’ll get from Dream. But he came here for a reason and he’s going to keep his promise, even if it’s more challenging than anticipated.
The explosion goes off with a loud bang, flinging dust in the air that consumes the small space. As he predicted, Dream jumps and lets out a cracked shriek noise he suspects would be a scream if his vocal cords weren’t shredded. It makes him wince (more than he’ll ever admit to anyone) the sound opening a rift painfully in his chest.
Then the alarm goes off, ringing throughout the prison, obsidian distorting the noise, oddly not as loud in the main cell as perhaps it should be (not that he’s ungrateful of course). It was expected, but it still causes worry to pump more adrenaline through his system. Tactfully ignoring it, he slowly walks forward towards Dream and then crouches down at a comfortable distance in front of him.
“Dream?” He whispers softer than he’s ever been.
Dream completely halts his nonsensical begging. Staying silent and unsettlingly still.
“Dream—Dream it’s me, it’s Techno. Can you hear me?… I came back, nerd. I’m sorry it took me so long alright.”
No response.
He continues, “Listen man, I hate to cut short your angsty main character moment an’ all but the thing is—the alarms are going off and we really need to act fast if we’re gonna get out of here.”
“T—Techno?…” Dream breathes out, so disbelievingly quiet it’s almost inaudible. The tiniest hint of hope lining his apprehensive tone as he looks up, his cloudy jade eyes meeting with Techno’s.
Techno offers a small smile and sighs relieved, “Bruuuh, you scared me for a second there, I thought I’d have to carry you out and—not gonna lie to ya Dream, I feel like that’d kinda ruin your whole ‘scary villain’ brand.”
At that, Dream snorts, but there’s no humored amusement in it. Holding back a pained wince, he then unwraps his arms, uncurling his body to sit up a bit as a sliver of tension leaves his frame.
Timidly, Dream half smiles back, voice breaking and hushed, “You—you came?!… You came back.”
“Of course nerd. Of course. I repay my favors.”
(Techno doesn’t say that he’d have come anyway. That he’d save anyone who’d been tortured for months. That he’d planned on destroying the prison anyways. And he really doesn’t say how he’s fond of the green teletubby. That he missed Dream these past few months of planning. That Dream is his friend and he never abandons his friends.
To say that would be to admit that he cared. And while his jokes imply that he does, it’s hard to actually be serious about. He’s a stoic mighty warrior after all, he’s not supposed to get attached to some broken homeless dude.
Yet here he is anyway, come to free his friend from hell. Not because no one else will. Not because of a favor. Not because of his disdain for unjust institutions. But because he cares about Dream, even if he’ll never truly admit as much.)
“Did you really doubt the great Technoblade?” He puffs up his chest, Dream chuckles back but it’s wet like he obviously did doubt it and that further widens the vast crack deep within Techno.
Brushing it off he says soft but spirited, still trying to change the mood, “Now come on you green teletubby, it’s jail break time!”
Techno offers his hand. Dream takes it and Techno pulls him up with far too little effort, letting go when he’s on his feet. Dream sways a bit before steadying himself. Techno wrinkles his brow in obvious concern.
“I’m fine—I’m fine.” Dream insists adamantly, noticing Techno’s worry.
“Right.” Techno mutters incredulously, eyeing Dream with calculation.
Dream stays standing, so Techno turns around, places an enderchest down and begins rummaging through it for supplies.
“Alright. Here, take these.” Techno mumbles causally as he begins handing the man behind him ender pearls, potions, golden apples, anything helpful for a fight and netherite armor Dream hastily straps on.
Then he pulls out a netherite axe, its enchantments making it glitter with an orange tinge from the lava. Dream recoils, stumbling back at the sight.
“Dream?” Techno let’s out confused, turning toward Dream who didn’t take the axe.
“Oh god, I—umm… Techno, I—I…” Dream stammers, his voice quivering along with his body as he stares unblinking at the axe, a faraway look in his eyes.
Techno peers down at the axe, searching for what might be wrong with it. Finding nothing he looks back up at Dream and examines him for the source of fear clearly written all over him.
He sees pearly, strawberry blond hair made all the more red by the blood sticking several strands together. Green eyes flaring with fringed panic. Crusty chapped lips bleeding as he bites down on them. All set on a paper pale face lightly freckled and canopied with diversely patterned scars that skirt down his neck, disappearing under his shirt just below the purple hand shaped rings around his throat.
For three months it was one of the only things Techno had to look at, so it’s hardly a new sight, though the vibrant coloring of injuries that weren’t there the last time don’t go unnoticed. He tries not to feel guilty about them, but it’s not helped by the unfiltered terror plastered on Dream’s unwillingly exposed face. The basis of which is explicitly detailed across every inch of his body.
It leaves no room for the imagination and makes Techno shudder, knowing that what he witnessed was infinitesimal on the scale of Dream’s prison experience.
Now understanding, he looks down at the axe again and grimaces, resisting the urge to wipe a hand down his face and voice a long ‘bruh’ at the cruelly ironic and frustrating situation.
“Dream, look this is for you—okay?” Techno insists, trying to hand over the axe again, but Dream staggers away.
Techno sighs, “The thing is Dream, the whole server has been alerted to your escape by now. So, you’re gonna have to—you’re gonna have to help me out in fighting them off. Alright?”
Reluctantly, Dream takes it with trembling hands and stays glaring intensely at the sharp blade. But not one second into holding the axe, it falls from his hands landing with an extraordinarily loud clatter that echoes painfully in the small space. Dream crumbles with it. His knees, digging into the obsidian. Anger, embarrassment and pure hopelessness dropping in large tears down his face to land on the axe’s shiny head.
Stupefied, Techno frowns. He wasn’t quite prepared for that. For Dream to just give up and quit on him. He wasn’t ready for tears. He only saw them once before this. Falling like glassy stars from his green eyes as Quackity dug his shears in demanding the book. Tears were also streaming down his face then. After all, it’s what happens when the body is in excruciating pain.
But this is different. This isn’t physical torment. This is the embodiment of a man unequivocally defeated. But not broken. Broken would be a death sentence for Dream, and Techno has a life debt to pay off. A favor is a favor and he’s not about to leave Dream here to die. He’s not about to give up on his mission. To give up on Dream.
“Nah nah nah nah don’t you give up on me now nerd. Don’t you give up.”Techno offers his hand, but Dream doesn’t take it, instead just keeps gazing at the axe now laying on the blood stained obsidian.
Techno exhales, the sarcastic irritation sounding a little too genuine, “Bruuuh do you know how long it took me to gather all these supplies—and then break in?”
“I’m s—sorry.” Dream voices quietly, thoroughly disconsolate, sounding more like an apology to himself then to Techno.
“Well chat, that kinda backfired…” Techno grumbles to no one in particular, joining Dream on the ground.
“Dream, look at me.” Techno requests, wincing when Dream obeys immediately, tears streaking down his red face, saturated in despondence and wretchedness.
Slowly, while Dream watches him, Techno delicately reaches up and lifts his crown off his head with both hands to rest on his lap.
“You know, I—I have always worn this crown…” He starts, noting the brilliant jewels and gold reflecting the fiery warmth of lava behind him.
“So, it seems like—it seems like something people would ask about right? I mean it is part of my brand and all.”
Dream goes silent, his breaths and sniffles barely discernible amongst the prison ambience as he drinks in the sparkling crown.
“But the thing is, Dream—the thing is, they don’t have to. They don’t have to ask or question it because it just belongs. Those that see it—see a gaudy symbol of power and strength that demands respect… They don’t doubt that a crown belongs on my head. They don’t doubt my ability and worthiness to wear it ‘cause my reputation and skill back it up. That’s what makes it clutch. I mean, no one really questions the status of a king—no one’s gonna question the mighty Technoblade.”
Carefully, he places the crown on Dream’s head, who looks at him utterly bewildered.
Matching Dream’s glossy eyes, Techno states sincere and firm, “Yeah, and you know if I wear a crown. Well then, I think—I think my almost equal outta wear one too—alright?”
Techno smiles, observing his work with satisfaction, “I’m just saying, Dream. It’s time your green teletubby look got an upgrade. You gotta look the part, you know? You gotta remind them why they put you in a maximum security cell in the first place.”
Dream doesn’t say anything, just keeps surveying his trembling boney hands.
Then with a grunt Techno stands and extends his hand again, “Come on man, if you don’t come fight with me you know it’s gonna really tank my audience retention.“
“Okay.” Dream breathes out before determinedly reaching for the axe.
With one hand tightly gripping the handle and the other grabbing Techno’s hand, Dream stands.
For a moment, they just stay there taking in the horrid cell for the last time, then Techno splashes some fire resistance.
“Alright, Dream. Let’s go kill some nerds.”
Smirking like they’re ready to wreak havoc on the server, they both dive into the lava wall and do just that.
Dream still isn’t quite sure what came over Techno. Even when he asked for his armor back later, to Dream’s surprise he didn’t mention the crown. Dream still doesn’t understand why. But he wears the crown everyday anyways. He knows it’s dumb, childish even and yet he can’t make himself take it off. Somehow it does make him feel strong, powerful, confident, able to persevere through another day (even if he’d never admit it).
Even later, when Dream loses his memories he still doesn’t take it off. He doesn’t know why, but it feels important somehow, like it belongs. It feels right. It feels like an old friend is forever watching his back until he ends up dead.
