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The people Dream met were temporary. He knew that.
He knew, with each glance at his friends, taking in their faces that would soon be gone from this earth, their legacy lost to time, that they wouldn’t last.
But he had thought that maybe, the bonds he had formed, the relationships he built, the bonds that grew and strengthened with every day could last.
He could keep something with him when the people were long gone, to remember them by years later, when their faces faded from memory, and he could no longer recall the sound of their voice.
The memory of who he had once been, in another life, another time, comforted him late at night. When the world was wide and the silence deafening and everything became too much, Dream could always look back on the friends he had made, for if not his lifetime, at least it lasted through theirs.
He kept his friends close, but his family closer.
Dream would do anything for them, the people who saw him, alone, mind clouded with memories of people he had once been, and they took him in anyways.
They showed him what it meant to be loved, in a way the gods never had.
(Dream thinks that, held in the arms of one of the first humans he had ever met, truly met, was when he finally understood humanity.
There, a god, filled with power even he couldn’t comprehend, Dream felt human.)
But then Dream saw war, and famine, and death and loss and grief and pain and fear and anger and everything he had wanted to ignore but he could never escape.
That was when he learned what humanity really was.
It was never about the soft touches or softer words. Humanity wasn’t the home he was welcomed into, or the people he met or the memories he shared.
Humanity was the pure agony he felt, when it was inevitably torn from him in the blink of an eye.
The first time he watched someone die before him, Dream could feel a piece of him wither with them.
(One of the first people he had met in this strange, terrifying, loud world. They had seen him stumbling through a world too large for the boy he had been, and they had smiled and asked if he had found what he was looking for.
The answer was always ‘not yet.’
Those were the same words that fell from his lips, a record destined to repeat over and over as he clung their quickly failing body to his chest.
It was too soon. He had only just begun. Why did they have to leave?
Not yet, he begged, but the gods watched him weep from their thrones built on the belief of fools, and they let him weep.)
After that night, blood cooling on his skin, the body already cold at his feet, Dream kept the friends he made close to his heart, praying that, once they were dead and gone, he could keep part of them with him no matter how far he strayed.
He threw his trust into the people around them, and relished in the praise and love and loyalty he would be shown in return.
It had never been like this with the gods. He had been taught that, in the end, nothing mattered more than his own life, because it was the only one he lived.
But humans had taught him that, caring about the lives of others around you, watching them grow and flourish and live because of you, felt better than a life of guarded solitude.
(The inevitable fall always hurt more, but Dream had years before he had to think about that.)
Dream hoarded relationships, he clung to as many people as he could, hoping that one of them would last.
They never did, but at least, at the beginning, when they did start to die, he wouldn’t have to suffer through it alone.
Call him selfish, he would wholeheartedly agree.
But there were only so many times a man could watch his family die, left alone as the sole victor of a game he hadn’t known he was playing.
The friends he made in each life, as each version of himself that was born from the broken remnants of the last, were the most important thing Dream had.
Which was why, their betrayal hurt more than their deaths ever could.
Dream knew he was in the wrong. He knew what he was doing was awful. That he was a villain.
He just couldn’t find it within himself to care.
The wars came and went, each one roaring with the strength of everything the previous battle was lacking, raising the stakes each time.
War was all Dream knew at this point. After years of chasing after it, its release forever just out of reach, growing more and more reckless with each battle, Dream had no other plan.
(He hadn’t realised how it had affected his friends. His family. At times, he forgot they were humans and he wasn’t, and that no matter how much he wished he didn’t, he would always have a natural advantage over them all.
Dream didn’t see how it slowly chipped away at all of the relationships he had spent so long building and nurturing, cherishing each and every one with his entire being.
He hadn’t noticed how anger built beneath their skin, a fire raging behind covered eyes, rebellion slowly building as the threat of war loomed yet again.
He never saw it coming, until it was too late.)
They struck at midnight.
Dream, for everything people said about him, about his constant vigilance or his ability to hear someone coming from a mile away, was caught off guard.
He sat at the shore, legs stretched out in front of him, the waves gently brushing against his bare feet, his boots left discarded somewhere behind him.
“Dream,” Sapnap said from behind him, the god flinching at the sudden noise, whirling around in shock, eyes wide beneath the mask.
There, surrounding him on the beach, stood his family.
(His family for this lifetime at least.)
The moon shone above them, casting an ethereal glow on the beach, light reflecting off of the water, emitting a soft glow.
It would’ve been beautiful, if not for the circumstances he found himself watching it in.
“We’re done, Dream,” Sapnap had said, shoulders squared and eyes hard, any sign of the man he had once loved gone, hidden beneath layers of pain and hurt and armour built around himself.
It was so different from Dream, who left his heart open and unguarded, eager to love others as he craved to be loved in return.
“But time isn't up,” Dream said, watching everyone he had loved from the beginning standing against him, weapons drawn and faces carefully blank, “I have years left.”
“No Dream,” Tommy said, stepping forward, “we’re done with your bullshit.”
That, that fucking hurt.
Was he truly so easily thrown aside? Did their time together mean nothing? Was he that easy to discard, forgotten before they have the chance to mourn him?
(Did he truly leave the gods of his own volition? Did he choose to live among the humans, to become one of them even though he would never be human?
Or were the gods simply eager to get rid of him, throwing him to a world so unfamiliar, so unlike what he knew, and slamming the door behind him?)
“Oh come on now,” he said, hands raised in a show of innocence, a display of trust he still held for the people surrounding him, “after everything? You’re just gonna give up?”
“Yes.”
Dream wasn’t sure who had answered him, but it didn’t matter in the end, because each one of them shared the sentiment.
He gasped for breath, panic building in his chest as the people he had considered family advanced, weapons raised, ready to attack at a moment's notice.
Dream had never been left. Never like this. It was always him, taking a final glance before turning away, regret a heavy blanket across his shoulders, the memories of whoever he had just lost weighing him down, calling him back to the life he once knew, but would never see again.
He had never experienced loss of this kind. He was so used to people living, loving him, and then dying.
They never left because they wanted to.
(Dream wished he could follow them. He wished he could sink into the earth and let the void swallow him whole. He was surrounded by his family but he had never felt more alone.)
“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, Dream,” Techno said, facing the god head on, not a hint of fear in his blood red eyes.
You should be afraid, Dream thought, body trembling, mind racing, you don’t know what I am, you don’t know how much I’ve held back, you don’t know me.
If that was true, then why was he the one afraid?
Dream faced his friends in the dead of night, nothing around him but the sounds of the ocean and the family he had lost months ago.
Humans were so weak, their bodies so fragile. How could Dream fight them, knowing the true power that coursed through his veins.
“What do you want?” he asked, and Dream prayed his voice didn’t sound as broken as he felt.
Tommy stepped forward, Techno glancing at the teen, his sword glinting in the moonlight, red eyes immediately locking in on Dream again.
“The end of an era,” Tommy said.
Dream looked at Tommy, the teen who had grown so much more than a child should have, who had seen so many horrors and lived through so many tragedies.
“Then an end I will provide,” Dream said.
Dream knew this was a fight he wasn’t going to win. He swung his sword, blocked hits, ducked and weaved through the crowd of people, but he knew it was never meant to be.
He knew, when it came to war, he could never truly win.
The only way he would ever emerge from battle victorious would be in death.
It never did come for him.
There, on the beach, drenched in blood, armour destroyed and mask cracked, a god fell to his knees, at midnight beneath the moon.
(Midnight was their time.
“I love you,” Dream said, voice even. He had said the words so many times to so many different faces, he knew it was coming eventually, why should he wait?
Sapnap, George, and Bad turned to look at Dream, their eyes wide in shock at the statement.
They had only been friends for a few weeks now, slowly building a home that would become so, so much more in the coming months.
Dream spoke so openly that night, beneath the moon, the stars shining down, their light licking at their faces as they watched the sky.
He knew it was too soon. He knew humans didn’t trust nearly as easily as he did. They had so much to lose, they couldn’t afford it.
“I love you too Dream,” Bad said, taking Dream’s hand in his own, smiling up at the masked god.
“Yeah dude, I love you!” Sapnap said, voice loud but comforting in the dead of night, wrapping an arm around Dream’s shoulder and pulling him close, Bad giggling on the other side of the man.
“Yeah, me too, or whatever,” George said, eyes staring intensely at the ground, a soft blush dusting his cheeks beneath the moon.
Dream looked at the three men with wide eyes, frozen in shock at how easily they had opened their hearts for him, just as he had for them.
He pulled them close, wrapping his arms around the three of them, shutting his eyes and just living in the moment.
There at midnight, beneath the stars, Dream felt safe in the arms of his friends, warmth seeping into his bones, filling his chest with something he hadn’t felt in such a long time.)
Dream’s hands were chained together beneath layers of enchanted netherite chains, the metal rubbing the skin of his wrists raw, new blood mixing in with what had already been spilled.
“I never wanted it to come to this,” Bad said, walking next to Dream, gently leading him by the arm, making their way towards a boat waiting by the shore, Sam moving ahead to get it ready to sail.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and Dream didn’t know what exactly he was apologizing for, but he knew he had to say it anyways, no matter how much it hurt, or how badly his betrayal stung.
Bad sighed, brushing a bloodstained strand of hair from Dream’s face, thumb gently rubbing against his cheek.
“It’s okay Dream,” he said softly, white eyes meeting green, “I get it. Or at least I like to think I do. I may not forgive you, not yet, but I get it.”
Dream felt tears making their way down his face, washing away the blood that coated his skin, Bad’s thumb wiping them away as they fell.
He turned to look at George and Sapnap, walking a few feet behind them, eyes filled with regret, a guilty look on both of their faces.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, eyes meeting theirs, for once not as a good, but as an equal.
“We know,” George said, voice strained and eyes rimmed red, his goggles now broken atop his head.
“I love you,” Dream said. He had to make sure they knew, no matter what happened, he would continue to love them just as he had the day they met.
“We know,” Sapnap said, fists clenched at his side, unshed tears gathered in the coroner of his eyes.
Dream turned around, having said everything he needed to.
They made it to the boat quickly after that, the rest of the server keeping their distance from the four men, giving them this moment of privacy. It was the least they could do.
Dream stepped up onto the boat, the rest of the server following suit, making their way onto the ship as Sam took the helm, hands holding the wheel in a white knuckled grip.
The chains that encased his arms rattled with every step, blood slowly dripping down the metal with each movement, pulling painfully at his wrists.
They knew, even if he was free, Dream wouldn’t do anything. There was no point. It was over.
The chains stayed on though, and Dream didn’t say a word.
They rode the boat in silence, the ship gliding silently through the waves, cutting through the moon’s reflection in the water with ease.
He wasn’t sure where they were going. He wasn’t going to bother asking.
Dream knew no one would tell him.
After twenty minutes of sailing, Sam slowed the boat to a stop, pushing an anchor over the side of the ship, keeping it in place.
“Dream,” he said, motioning for the man to walk forwards.
Dream obeyed, making his way to Sam without complaint, turning back to look at his friends once more before meeting his fate.
Sapnap muffled a sob with his hand as he watched Dream, Bad and George on either side of him, offering what little comfort they could.
“It’s okay,” Dream said, a grim smile gracing his lips as he stepped closer and closer towards the executioner he had longed to meet since he stepped foot in this world, awaiting a punishment fit for a god.
Sapnap just let out another cry, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears that now fell freely.
“It’ll be quick and painless, Dream,” Sam said, Punz walking up next to the man, placing something on the ground at their feet, “it’s the least you deserve.”
Dream frowned in confusion. What were they doing?
“Hands forward Dream,” Sam said, and Dream was too confused to protest, hands held out in front of him, panic slowly building beneath his chest.
Sam pulled out more chains, attaching them to whatever lay at their feet before looping the excess through the chains that contained Dream’s hands, tugging on the metal a few times to make sure it was secure.
Punz picked up the block again, balancing it precariously on the edge of the boat.
“Step to the edge Dream,” Sam said softly, “please don’t make me force you.”
Dream looked down at the weight attached to the chains around his wrist before looking up at Sam, his eyes widening in realization.
“Wait, Sam-” Dream said, but was cut off when the man in question grabbed his arm, dragging him to the edge of the boat.
“I’m sorry Dream,” Sam said, hands holding tightly onto Dream’s arms as he stood there on the edge.
He looked back, at all of the friends he had made, people he had freely claimed as family. He watched them all stand there, letting this happen.
They thought this was kind. They thought this was merciful.
It was anything but.
Dream shut his eyes, blocking out the tear stained faces of the family he had lost, tears of his own making their way down his cheeks, dripping into the water below.
“Goodbye Dream,” Sam whispered as he pushed him over the edge.
Dream hit the water with a splash, the weight attached to his hands landing next to him, pulling him deeper and deeper below, the light slowly fading as he sunk.
He watched the faces of the people he thought he had known so well fade from view, bubbles rising to the surface as the air escaped from his lungs.
Dream fell, further and further, an odd feeling of floating settling over him as he shut his eyes, trying to push down the panic in his chest.
He opened his mouth to take a deep breath and collect his thoughts, when his eyes shot open as water flooded his lungs.
Dream tried to cough it up, mouth opening instinctively, but there was nothing he could do but choke on the liquid as it filled his lungs, choking on it as he thrashed, chains digging into his skin as he was pulled deeper, blood staining the water around him.
His eyes watered and his lungs burned and Dream couldn’t help but think that maybe, this time it would stick, and he could be free for once.
He could hear his heartbeat in his ears as he choked on the water that now surrounded him, the tears leaking from his eyes mixing in with the ocean around him.
His vision faded to black as he hit the ocean floor, hair floating around him in a mockery of the halo he had once held within his grasp.
The boat above travelled silently back to the land, no one aboard daring to say a word.
Dream woke with a gasp.
Or as much of a gasp as he could muster, water immediately filling his lungs yet again as he blinked the spots from his vision.
Dream’s feet had sunk slightly into the ocean floor, darkness creeping in on all sides, a bone deep chill settling in around him.
He may have lost his family, but down here beneath the sea, in the void humanity had never bothered to explore, Dream was never alone.
Dream felt something brush against his exposed cheek, blending in with the shadows, gone before he could see what it was.
Seaweed and coral wrapped around his legs as he stood there, his body joining the life beneath the sea the longer he stayed there.
Minutes turned into hours turned into days turned into weeks turned into months.
And Dream stood there still, gaze empty but mind still present.
He was stuck in a torturous cycle, trapped in a watery grave that would never hold a corpse, forced to live eternity below water.
Dream’s lungs filled with water, his throat sore and blood spilling from his lips as he screamed, sound muted by the liquid that surrounded him, his chest burning with a hot, blinding agony.
He breathed in the water he had been confined to, the plants around him slowly claiming his as one of their own.
Seaweed and kelp had wrapped around his broken limbs as they grew, a cruel mockery of the chains that kept him trapped here, stuck on the ocean floor as he could do nothing but live no matter how much he wished for death.
Fish and other creatures swam by him, the scent of blood drawing them near, but the glint of an eye in the darkness, sharp teeth bared in defense was enough to fend them off.
The ocean slowly claimed him as it killed him, over and over and over again.
Each time the water filled his lungs and his vision started to fade, darkness taking over, Dream thought about his friends.
He hoped they were happy. He hoped that they could move on, now that he was dead to them. He prayed they could move on like he had all those times before.
He didn’t want them to stand at his grave and weep, because what were tears to a dead man?
(Not that he was dead, but to his friends he may as well have been.)
Dream suffocated, choking on salt water and bile and blood as he stood there, his skin cracking in different places, pieces of his flesh peeling off, lost to the void of the ocean.
The bags under his eyes only grew, deeper and darker until they matched the world around him, swallowing everything they met whole.
His bones were visible beneath his skin, his body more reminiscent of a skeleton than a human (which was accurate in a way that terrified Dream to his very core), muscles weak and joints stiff.
He missed his friends. His family. The comfort and warmth they brought him.
He missed being around people. Here, beneath the sea, he was left with nothing but his own mind and the darkness on all sides, whatever creatures that lay within it keeping their distance.
If he closed his eyes and pretended hard enough, the plants that slowly made their way up his body, tangling around his limbs and in his hair which had lost all of its pigment, would feel like a body pressed against his, holding him gently, caressing his decaying skin with a soft grip.
If he listened hard enough, beneath the echoing silence he could hear his friends calling his name.
They were here for him. They had realized their mistake and they were here to bring him back, to free him from the hell they had believed their ‘mercy’ had saved him from.
Dream choked on the water, a smile on his face, eyes shut as if he was merely asleep, and not drowning every second of every day.
His friends never came.
Dream didn’t know how much time had passed, the light unable to reach this deep, leaving him in constant darkness.
He knew it had been a while though. His hair was longer, tangling with the seaweed that grew, floating gently around his head. His skin was thin and his bones were frail and there was a near constant tremor in his hands that hadn’t been there before.
Dream thought that maybe, after all this time, the ocean and the chains that kept him here had become part of him, fusing with his bones, growing beneath his skin, finally becoming part of him.
It was the only source of comfort he could find, and he clung to it with what little strength he had.
The cold metal chains that had at one time restrained him, now comforted him, a reassuring pressure around his wrists, keeping him grounded.
(He could pretend that it wasn’t cold metal. He could pretend it was Bad, or Sapnap or George, holding his hands in theirs, telling him he would be alright.)
Dream could feel his mind slipping away from him, day by day. His thoughts were jumbled, losing his train of thought with each inhale of water, the salt water eating away at his throat.
He was sure that, beneath the cuffs, the bones of his wrist would be visible, all of his flesh torn away over time, metal tearing at skin until there was nothing but bone left to scrape.
It had been what Dream could only assume was years. The earth beneath him shifted and grew over time, eating away slowly at everything he had to offer, taking his flesh and blood along with his sanity and the breath from his lungs.
His chest ached constantly. The feeling of liquid within his lungs was a constant, the ever present feeling of wrongness chasing him into the void of temporary death, always there to greet him when he wakes.
(Oh how he wished he didn’t wake up. He longed for the void to take him for good.)
Over the years, the soft glow of the enchantments gracing the chains that confined him dulled, before going out entirely, going dull before his very eyes.
Then, to Dream’s surprise and relief and horror and shock, the metal began to rust.
It groaned and twisted and aged beneath the water, the protection the enchantments had once offered him now gone, leaving behind simple metal chains in their wake.
If Dream was at full strength, if he hadn’t suffered years of starvation and death and isolation, he would’ve been free in the blink of an eye, already swimming up towards the surface.
But now, body weak and chest throbbing in pain every second, Dream could only wait as he stood there, watching the metal rust and decay day by day, just as he had. As he still was.
Dream hadn’t even realised it when the metal first broke, finally freeing him from the block of stone that kept him trapped on the ocean floor.
Only why he felt the seaweed around him shift and tear, pulling at his hair and the skin it had latched on to painfully, but not enough to draw blood, did he notice what had happened.
Dream stared at the broken chain with a distant melancholy, eyes blank as he felt his body slowly rising, making its way back towards the surface.
What was the point? What would be waiting for Dream on the surface that was different from what he faced below the water?
If Dream had the strength to move, he may have reached out for the broken chain, floating just out of reach, taunting him as he died once again, body continuing to make its way upwards.
He wasn’t sure how long it took, he wasn’t conscious for a majority of the journey, stuck in a weird limbo between death and the void his mind escaped to when the reality of his situation sunk in.
Dream broke the surface, actual air stinging his skin, the sun blinding him beneath the broken mask.
He coughed, water and blood spilling from his lips, taking in his first breath of air in what had been years.
Dream shook, body trembling as he barely managed to keep himself above water, stiff joints and weakened muscles screaming in protest at the movement after years of dormancy.
In the distance, he saw a small boat making its way towards him, squinting his eyes against the light of the sun as he tried to see who was on it.
Dream gave up trying to identify whoever was moving towards him, shutting his eyes against the blinding light, his sore body coming to a stop as his head began to sink beneath the water yet again.
Maybe I was always doomed to fall Dream thought as his head was submerged yet again.
The last thing he saw before his vision went black was a boat a few feet away, heading straight for him.
The last thing he felt was the call of the ocean, dragging him back under, the familiar hold of its grasp and its comfort dragging him back down.
Dream’s eyes fell shut as he took a breath, letting the salt water fill his lungs yet again.